#(as I am SEVERAL days behind 😅)

[blackbrightweek]

Good morning everyone! For the final (ish!) time!

We've made it to the final day of Blackbright Week! And what a blast it's been-- but it isn't over yet!

Today's theme is Summer 🌞 How does our dynamic duo deal with the heat? Do they stay indoors with the AC on? Do they go to the aquarium-- or the beach? Is Simon even capable of getting a tan? So many questions just waiting to be answered!

[softspace-fics]

Hiiiiii I just read your new loki fic with a disabled little and I was amazing to read especially when it's relatable like that I have a bad relationship with my health 😅

If your comfortable with it I really feel that a stucky x disabled little would be a perfect match cuz bucky is disabled (just in a cooler way with the vibranium arm) and iv been reading how you write bucky and Steve and they just want what's best for they're little so I need to read them helping the reader be more comfortable with they're disability.

You can ignore this but I just wanna say I love your blog and I hope your having a great day

-🦄

Hurts.

Masterlist - All my work!

A/N - hiii! I am so sorry your request took a little bit because I wanted to make it similar yet different to my story "It's hard." because everyone's experience with pain and why they don't feel comfortable with others when in pain, or for why they have bad relationship with their health is completely different. I wish I could include everyone in each post, and if you'd like to share your story with me I'd love to know, your never alone in your battles. If you have any feed back please let me know!

Warnings⚠️: mentions of rough family life, parents saying meds should fix the pain, ignorance of how pain affects someone, negative regression, mentions of bucky in hydra but nothing significant, please let me know if I missed anything!!

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader

___________

Bucky understood what it was like to be in unbearable pain, feeling like your entire body was being ripped to shreds. He had been stuck being experimented on for how long? When he told Steve about how he felt on a daily basis even after not being experimented on for a while, Steve did his best to learn how to help him out when the pain just made it unbearable.

This meant that steve tried hard to figure out the best ways to help anyone who was in severe amounts of pain. He tried epsom salts, different type of ointments, mental care, anything he possibly could think about to make bucky comfortable. 

So when they met you, you didn’t seem out of the ordinary for them, to them you were seen as such sweet person and you were pretty confident. When people would talk to you, you helped them out if you could, or were polite in saying you couldn’t. 

You had originally met the two in a library when Steve and Bucky were looking for different types of books to try and learn more about the world today. You were trying to reach for the book on the highest shelf, and pain was shooting through every fiber in your body. You were exhausted and uncomfortable when you saw Steve's shadow behind you and got spooked. You jumped and nearly fell over from moving too quickly off your tippy toes. He gently grabbed your arm to stabilize you before smiling at you and apologizing for scaring you.

He asked if you needed help with getting the book off the shelf and you quietly said yes. It was one of your favorite childhood books, you read them sometimes when you regress, although  he didn’t need to know that. You felt bad making him do it for you, even though he asked. You know it wasn’t anything significant but you had never been able to accept help. 

Your family barely paid any attention to your pain, you were thrown on meds that did nothing when you were a kid and they stopped caring. Everytime you said something you always got “Well, did you take your meds?” “Your meds worked yesterday, don’t lie to me” Meds this, meds that. It got to the point you stopped taking meds and never asked your parents for help with your pain. 

When you were able to finally get into doctor offices by yourself you got meds that helped somewhat, but you still never felt as if you could rely on anyone else to help with your aches and how you felt on the inside. You had meds which meant that you should be fine and learn to deal with the pain on your own. Right?

You had seen the duo in the bookstore quite often after the first interaction, learning they were together and they were shocked when you told them you had no clue who “captain America” or the “winter soldier” was. You never really payed attention to the world outside of your bubble, you couldn’t relate to a lot of people so you shut off a lot of the outside. 

Eventually they asked you out, and from then on is history. But something you still hadn’t told them about was the chronic pain, and the regression that came from it. You had times where getting out of bed was the worst idea ever, showering was beyond out of the question, and regression was the only option your brain had.

You’d regress young enough that you could toddle and make it from point A to point B, but past that you had no survival when you were in so much agony. This means there became times you didn’t eat for hours, you’d sleep longer than you should, and there would be times you didnt respond for hours to anyone.

Bucky and Steve got super worried on days you never replied, they tried to let you have your space, thinking that it was something that you just did, but when you didnt show up for a date at their place, they ran over, thoughts racing.

They knocked on your door which woke you up, but you had no energy to attempt in getting up. Not knowing it was them, you assumed it was a package and tried to go back to sleep when they knocked louder.

Steve continued to knock while bucky prayed that you had left a key outside to your apartment incase you lost yours. He looked under a brick and practically ran to get your door open. Thank god that he remembered people put keys under rocks.

When they got in the apartment, the quickly rushed to find you. Scanning and worridly running around.

“Y/N??” Steve shouts, checking the bathroom.

“Sweetheart?!” Bucky yells as he opens the door to your room, where he finds you crumpled in pain, your room darker than a cave.

“Please, stop screaming.” You mumble quietly, you clutch your stuffie to your chest, your regression starting to set in after being brutally awaken.

Bucky quickly comes and sits by your side, helping to pull the blanket away from your face, looking at you with complete and utter concern.

Steve eventually comes in with some things in his hands, bucky looks at him puzzled before connecting the dots.

See, Bucky found you, but Steve found your regression and safe room. Where you had soft toys and padding everywhere. It was something you had filled with everything that you could need for when your regressed, and when it hurt too much to move.

The two knew what age-regressors were from tony, seeing as him and Stephen were the proud caregivers of Peter and Wanda. So when Steve saw your pacifier and heating pads, and anything else that might help, he grabbed it all.

“Baby, can you tell us whats wrong?” Bucky softly asks, tucking your hair behind your ear, Softly rubbing your thigh with his thumb.

“Hurts.” you mumble out softly, you slowly flip over, and bury your face into bucky's stomach. His scent fills your lungs, and he slowly starts to rub your back, holding you closely. 

Steve comes up behind Bucky, his face contorted to a face of his own pain. He hated seeing you so upset, and mowing you were trying to fend for yourself, by yourself, hurt him.

“Do you want your pacifier darling?” Steve gently asks, he wasn’t sure if you knew he had found your room, and wasn’t wanting to freak you out.

Hearing him ask that question, you looked up from bucks embrace with pure terror. How did he find it? Why was he so calm about it?

Bucky softly cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead before pulling you back into his embrace, rubbing small circles on your back before he speaks calmingly.

“Doll, we know about regression or age-dreaming, there's nothing to be afraid of, we promise.”

You relax into his hold before slowly nodding. Steve hands you your paci and you slide it between your lips and just rest against bucky, the pain minorly subsiding with the extra pressure of his hug.

“Baby, I know that the pain can be hard to handle, but you don't have to go this alone, you'll never be alone now that we're here. Whatever we can do, we want to do it. Please never feel as if you have to fight this battle alone.” Bucky manages to barely whisper out, fighting his own emotions.

Your tears begin to fall, hearing words you've never heard before. You’ve had to fight by yourself for so long, that maybe them knowing wasn't for the worst.

“Your not alone anymore, never alone. We're with you now. The pain doesn't have to be suffering anymore, let us help.” Steve sits next to you and buck, rubbing your back and leaving little kisses on your head.

You slowly nod, wanting someone to be there, maybe this time, you'll be able to accept the help. The right help.

[catt-leya]

Hi babe!

I saw that your requests were open and I jumped on the occasion lol.

I am a sucker for the jealousy trope, so I thought of something along the lines of like; Rick and reader are not together, but everyone knows that they like each other and there is like an unspoken band between those two. They arrive at Alexandria and there is someone from there who has eyes on the reader. They like idk do everything so that the reader has to work with them and so on. From there on u can choose what happens! But jealous Rick is a need at this point lol.

Thanks babe, have a lovely day!💖

Sucker For Pain (18+++) || Rick Grimes

The fic has gotten a little out of control 👉🏼👈🏼😅 (14 pages sweeties 💗) have fun 💗💗💗

Trigger: Mention of spanking, dirty talk, oral sex, choking (?), breeding (?) and my usual smutty stuff

Gently, you push the door of the barn shut behind the others and remain alone with Rick and the new one.

Concerned, you look over at the bound man, who has introduced himself as Aaron. 

Not because you think he's a danger to you, but rather because you think Rick is a danger to him.

Aaron gave you the opportunity to find a community and instead of listening to him and giving him a chance, Rick punched him in the face and knocked him unconscious.

Now he's awake again and it doesn't look like he's doing badly, but you're not a doctor either and can't really tell.

Sighing, you avert your eyes from Aaron and look to Rick, who is looking in a bag in the back of the barn.

He's bending over and the old brown shirt is straining against his shoulders, which is probably proof enough that he's changed not only mentally, but physically as well. 

When you met him, it wasn't lanky, but being forced to do a lot more physically than before hasn't passed him by without leaving a mark, and you have to force yourself not to gape at him as you slowly walk in his direction. 

Immediately he senses your presence and straightens up to his full height so that he towers over you significantly and you have to tilt your head slightly back to look at him, "Knocking him unconscious wasn't necessary."

Rick watches you put your small hands on your hips and is once again fascinated by how small and almost dainty you seem to be next to him. 

He's also well aware that you make an interesting contrast when you reach for his dirty hands, as you are doing now.

After the long time outside without a solid roof over his head, he probably looks like a Neanderthal, and you're reaching into his beard and pulling out a dry leaf makes him blink several times before he answers more hoarsely than intended, "You're worried about him?"

You can see him trying to classify whether you're worried about Aaron or simply don't approve of his actions, so you wrinkle your nose and put your small hands on his shoulders. Even through the fabric of the shirt, you can feel the sheer force underneath. 

You love the way his body feels under your hands, and you know he likes it when you touch him, too. 

He's never flinched before, and seems to really puff up when you reach for his hand at times, or let your hand slide over his torso. What you don't know is that Rick is electrified every time you are this close to him and is addicted to showing others that you are his. 

He is careful not to tell you that he sees you as his property and he is aware of how primitive it sounds, but it is just a switch that flips on him as soon as another guy looks at you or you show interest in another.

Simply to prove it to himself and your unwilling visitor that you belong to him, he leans over and puts his hands on your hips as he whispers in your ear, "Are you afraid I'm going to punch him again?"

Your whole body reacts to this sudden closeness. 

You move closer to him and can only hope he doesn't hear how unnaturally rough your voice is, "Just don't do it."

You notice how he seems to hesitate for a moment before he breathes a small kiss on your neck and then moves away from you, nodding slightly, "If he doesn't give me a reason."

The spot his lips touched feels like it's on fire and you clear your throat softly as you let your hands slide off his broad shoulders, "Him looking at me is not a reason, understand?"

Your voice shoots up in a way that makes Rick laugh, "Depends on how he looks at you." You don't suppress the urge to roll your eyes, "Rick!"

Surprised that he's suddenly so eager for physical contact, you wince slightly as he presses another kiss to your cheek, "I get it, baby."

It's not until he pulls the barn door shut behind him that you realize he called you ‘baby’ for the first time and you're stuck in place. 

He probably just said it as a joke because you pushed him like an overprotective wife. 

Yeah, right. 

That must have been it. 

You're not the kind of people who give each other pet names like that. 

It's different between you.

Quickly shaking your head to get the thought out of your head, you see Aaron smiling broadly, "You make a cute couple. How long have you been together?"

Your eyes dart back to the door Rick disappeared through, and you're sure he's not far away and will probably walk back in the door any second, so you quickly say, "I don't think we're a couple."

He raises his eyebrows and even before he says it he knows what he's going to say, "You think?"

Sighing, you take a step in his direction and drop to the ground with enough distance between you and him, "I don't know what we are."

You can clearly tell Aaron is much more relaxed since Rick left the barn, which also seems to loosen his tongue, and he looks at you with interest, "Feel free to correct me, but didn't he call you 'baby'? I'd call my boyfriend that, but definitely not someone I just get along with."

You look up at the ceiling, "I'm sure he meant that as a joke because I was acting a little wifey."

He opens his mouth, but closes it immediately as the door is pushed open and Rick comes back in. 

Immediately his eyes are on you and you smile at him, "Are you okay?"

Hesitantly he nods, "The others are back and we're going to his camp. But on my terms."

…

Rick's conditions turn out to be quite dangerous, but since no one contradicts him, you pack your things and follow his instructions on who goes with whom.

As you might expect, you ride in the car with Rick, and instead of putting you in the back seat with Michonne and Aaron, he pulls you into his lap in the passenger seat. 

You don't claim that you don't like being this close to him, and Rick would have to be a total idiot if he didn't enjoy the way you lean relaxed against his chest, your pretty butt resting on his thigh.

He doesn't really think about it as he puts his left hand on your thigh and watches you play with the wedding ring on his hand. 

Just months ago, it bothered you that he still wears it even though his wife passed away and he assured you several times that he was over it and doing well. 

You didn't want to tell him at the time that it somehow bothered you that he was still wearing the ring anyway, but he noticed it himself and gently pulled you to him. 

Your back was pressed against his chest and he whispered softly in your ear, "I only wear the ring as a reminder of who I used to be. That's all it is."

Now you're ready to accept it and swallow that little ounce of jealousy towards a dead woman.

Lost in thought, you turn the ring on his finger and notice something on your back. 

Blindly, you reach back and graze the spot on your back. 

The feeling disappears and you run your finger along the veins from his forearm to his hand, that's when you notice it again and when you realize what it is, you cry out. 

Glenn, who is driving the car, hits the brakes full on. You are pushed forward and Rick is immediately wide awake, "What is it?"

Frantically trying to get to your back, you shriek perhaps a little too hysterically, "There's something crawling on my back. Oh my God."

You fidget around on Rick's lap and Glenn, shaking his head, starts driving again, "If that's all it is."

As calm as Glenn is, the more hysterical you become, and in a panic you press against Rick, who is frozen in his seat, until you whimper helplessly, "Make it go away. I beg you…make it go away."

At the way you sound scared, his heart softens and he reaches for your shirt and pulls it up over your back. 

Gently, he puts a hand on the back of your neck and pushes you forward a little so he can see your bare back and runs his hand over it, "Shhhh. I'm doing it."

At your reaction, he was expecting a cockroach the size of your hand, but it's just a small spider, which he just tosses to the floor of the car and then says softly, "It's all good again."

You turn your head and look back over your shoulder at him, "You sure?"

Without taking his eyes off you, he runs his hand slowly down your back one more time and now you can't hold back the goosebumps.

He releases his hand from your neck and you take a deep breath. 

The critter is gone and you don't even want to know what it was. 

Actually, it's sad that you're more panicky about creepy-crawlies in this world than you are about a single walker, but you didn't choose it.

Still sensing how tense you are, Rick slides his hand from your bare back to your stomach and pulls you back against his chest. 

He is well aware that it would be more appropriate to leave his hand on your shirt, but he can't bring himself to remove his hand from your warm skin and the shame of taking advantage of you disappears when he notices how you rest your head on his shoulder and your breath regularly hits his neck. 

It doesn't seem to bother you and you even enjoy it, feeling so safe in his arms that you even close your eyes and slowly doze off.

Unfortunately, this peace doesn't last long as a jolt goes through the car and Rick yells, "Go, go, go!"

You tear your eyes open and see a huge horde of walkers blocking your way. 

Glenn has run over a few, but not nearly enough to keep you safe, and when suddenly a light shoots into the air in the middle of the forest, everything happens very quickly.

Aaron, who had been sitting in the back seat a few seconds ago, was gone. 

Rick, who immediately wanted to be in control of the situation, pushes open the door and pushes himself out of the car with you. 

You stumble to a halt and he grabs your hand. 

He clasps it tightly and with Michonne and Glenn in tow, he pulls you into the woods. As you run, he hisses, "Stay with me. I want you to hold my hand the whole time and don't you dare let go of me, understand?"

Completely disoriented, you nod and let him drag you deeper into the forest. 

Because he, being right-handed, clutches your right hand with his left, you can't reach for the knife and trust that Rick knows what he's doing and won't kill you that way after all.

Behind you and Rick, Glenn and Michonne are running, and you flinch when you hear Rick shoot and turn to face forward again. Everywhere you look there are walkers and you tug on Rick's hand, "Let go of me. I want my knife."

Reluctantly, he lets go of you and looks down at you. 

His hair is falling in his face and as inappropriate as it may be at the moment, you have to remember that you really need to give him a haircut, Rick says harshly, "Stay near me. Please."

You quickly look around, but the walkers are still some distance away, so you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him briefly on the cheek, "I promise."

The moment you put distance between you again, there is a strange vibe between you. 

You get the feeling he's about to say something else, but anxiously you interrupt him on whatever else he was about to say, "Shit, where are Glenn and Michonne?"

Rick jerks his head around and shoots the nearest walker, "Keep going."

Over and over you call out for Glenn and Michonne, but you can't find them and with all the walkers around you and to top it off you run out of ammo and Rick fires the signal pistol he took from Aaron earlier as a last resort.

The forest around you glows a deep red as a result and if it wasn't such a horrible situation you would find the light really beautiful, but this last shot makes your situation that much more hopeless.

Panic rises in you as out of nowhere Aaron appears behind you, "Come with me."

Immediately Rick stands in front of you and tries to shield you from him, which he comments impatiently, "If you want, put my shackles back on, Rick. But then do it quickly."

Rudely, you shove Rick in Aaron's direction, "Just go, Rick. You know he doesn't need them."

Reluctantly, he lets you push him forward, and you fight your way through the woods with Aaron until you come to what used to be a residential area. 

Skeptically, you slow your pace until you can make out Daryl some distance away.

You can hardly believe that everyone is waiting for you inside safe and sound, and you don't hold back on the hugs either.

You fall around each one's neck and even with Aaron you don't hold back, murmuring softly in his arms, "Thank you."

Gently, he strokes your back and asks you softly, "You didn't tell Rick I had a boyfriend did you?"

Confused, you back away from him, "No? Why would I? There are plenty of people in relationships."

Laughing, he shakes his head, "Because he looks like he's about to rip my head off."

You let go of Aaron completely now and spin around to see what Aaron can see over your shoulder. 

Rick is standing with Daryl and Carol and they're both talking to him, but his blue eyes are on you. 

When you catch him doing it, though, he quickly turns away and Aaron calls out behind you, "Rick? I want you to meet my boyfriend."

Your eyes dart to Aaron and then you close your eyes with a sigh. 

The evening has clearly been too long and you don't have the strength left to even deal with another announcement, but you shuffle past Rick and mumble indistinctly, "I'm going to sleep."

Before you're out of his reach, he reaches for your hand, "Are you okay?"

At first glance, Rick always acts like he's bursting with strength and could do anything and everything in the blink of an eye, but now after the fiasco on the road and the long time without a real home, you can tell how exhausted he is. The wrinkles in his face are getting deeper and the fact that he looks like a man who has never heard of haircutting unfortunately only makes it more obvious how much it is tearing at him. 

Plus, you have to admit that he's no longer in his early 20s and certainly didn't envision his life with a group of humans and a horde of walkers breathing down his neck. But then, who has?

You look to Aaron and say, "Is it okay if we all meet in the morning? I want our fearless leader to get some sleep and unfortunately, I have a feeling he won't sleep at all unless I personally take over this task and force him to get some rest."

You know Rick is going to disagree with you, so you squeeze his hand as hard as you can: "Say anything other than 'yes' and I'll put you over my knee."

Aaron chokes on his own laughter and the glint in Rick's eyes, makes you sway slightly. 

You tell yourself you're tired and imagining it, but he looks at you like he's about to throw himself at you. 

Dangerously slow, he releases his hand from yours and clasps your wrist, "Yes ma'am, but are you sure I shouldn't put you over my knee?" His voice is rough and sleepy.

Normally he would hold back the words or regret them after the fact, but he can barely keep his eyes open and his mouth is faster than his head because of it. 

He's also aware that you absolutely didn't mean it sexually and were really just trying to help him, but it was an easy template for him and seeing your pupils get huge and your breasts press against the fabric of your shirt as you take a deep breath was clearly worth it.

He'd probably kick his ass for it tomorrow, but he leans over and murmurs softly in your ear, "Shall I?"

A jolt goes through your body and he resists the urge to pull you closer to him.

You can't believe what he's said. 

It's common for you to be close, but hearing something so overtly sexual from him is new. 

So unbelievably new that you can't bring anything past your lips. 

At this moment it wouldn't even have to be something clever and a simple sentence would suffice, but you just stare at him.

The room suddenly seems much too small and Rick much too big.

Rick's thoughts wander into areas that are completely inappropriate in the current situation and when he notices how his pants are getting tighter, he takes a step back and clears his throat: "We'll di everything out tomorrow. I really should go lie down."

Because you're still frozen, he puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you into an adjacent room, "Daryl said there's a couch here. You can sleep there."

He takes it upon himself to pretend the conversation about your ass doing wonderfully under his palm never happened and pushes you further toward the couch, "Get some rest."

Your gaze slides around the sparsely furnished room and you quickly realize that there is only this one narrow couch, "Let me guess: I'm supposed to sleep on the couch and you're going to lie down on the floor next to me, right?"

The stiffness breaks away from you as you walk toward the couch and look back over your shoulder at him, "That was your plan, right?"

He stands in the doorway with his arms crossed and you can't help but stare at how well he fills the spot with his broad shoulders, "Right."

Blinking, you shake your head to get your thoughts in order: "No way. We always sleep next to each other anyway, so we might as well squeeze onto the couch."

You groan in satisfaction as you drop down onto the couch and see Rick wince. 

Things have been very intimate between you for months now, and he didn't think he'd hit the ceiling like that right away at your soft moans. 

His cock in his pants becomes wide awake and he just can't imagine sleeping on the couch pressed so close to you. 

Sleeping with you on the floor is fine, because he can avoid you well when you once again press your butt against his crotch in the middle of the night. But on this narrow thing you'd have to practically lie on top of him and it would be almost impossible not to get a boner.

So he shakes his head, "That's okay."

He watches you kick your shoes off your feet and kneel on the couch. 

As you do so, you bend over a bit and, without thinking, squeeze your breasts together with your arms, which Rick doesn't miss. Standing stiffly, he forces himself to look you in the face as you pout, "Oh come on. I'm certainly not going to let you sleep on the floor, and I won't leave you alone until you're lying with me."

Rick sends a shove prayer to the heavens, hoping you don't see how tight his pants have gotten.

He's been in the most hopeless situations, and yet he could swear that nothing has ever felt as dangerous as lying down next to you right now and not moaning as you lay your upper body on top of him, your soft breasts pressing against his chest.

He stares at the ceiling above you, yet a 'holy shit' slips from his lips as you slide one leg over his and get dangerously close to his balls.

You've always liked sleeping with Rick, and even now being close to him makes you happier than the soft couch you're lying on for once.

Your head rests on his shoulder and you murmur sleepily, "Good night."

The only thought Rick has, however, is 'I think my balls are falling off.'

It seems like a miracle that he was able to fall asleep next to you, even though you kept pushing on top of him in your sleep, and even the morning after was soaked in preparations and plans.

… 

The whole trip has ended up being so elaborate that you're jittery with excitement when you finally arrive at the gates of Alexandria.

As soon as the car comes to a stop, you get out and look up at the walls surrounding this community.

Aaron didn't promise too much when he said that nothing could enter without their consent.

It is tremendous and for a long time you have not had this level of hope in your heart.

Aaron leads you inside the community and you don't even have to turn around to know Rick is following you like a shadow.

Your gaze travels over the people gathered around you at a wide distance and your eyes linger on a handsome blond man who is looking at you with open interest. 

He looks so clean that you notice the blush rising in your cheeks from embarrassment at how run-down you must look.

With your group, you didn't care because you all look worse than the next, but his golden hair, which looks like liquid gold in the light, only makes you more aware of how your hair must look and yet you can't take your eyes off him.

It's unusual these days to see such pure beauty. 

Not that you don't think other men are beautiful, but it's usually a rugged beauty, like Daryl and Rick's, and not as dazzling.

You don't even realize how long you've been staring at the young man as he slides his gaze over you and wince when Rick grabs you unaccustomedly hard by the upper arm and turns you away from the man, "I want you to go first." His voice is rough and unusually low, causing your eyebrows to go up, "Why me?"

He hisses, "Because I'm telling you to." 

Normally Rick never talks to you like this and you notice yourself getting snappier at his tone as well, "And I'd like to know what I'm supposed to say at the big interview anyway, if you'd be so gracious as to tell me."

Rick turns you so that he's shielding you from the audience with his body and rules you again, "The woman in charge here just wants to know what we used to do and how we met. So tell her about your studies and that's it."

You can no longer hold back your laughter, "My studies? Are you kidding me. You know perfectly well that I was only in college for one semester before I ended up with you. I worked as a stripper for years to be able to afford my studies and because of that shit it wasn't even worth it. The only thing I can contribute to convince the woman is a lap dance and an offer to set up a stripper pole here so I can entertain the people here, Rick."

You don't even flinch as his eyes darken and he pulls you close to hiss in your ear, "Don't you dare give even one person in this goddamn world a lap dance."

You try to pull away from him, but he won't let go, so you grit your teeth, "Or what?"

His body shakes with tension and you don't understand why he's so upset about it, when you did it for years before and now you don't even really mean it. So you force yourself to stay calm and ask something you've been wondering for a long time, "How come you never asked me?"

The question catches him completely off guard, "What?"

You tilt your head slightly and don't take your eyes off him, "I told you right at the beginning what my job was and you never asked me for a lap dance. Not that I think you're that cock-addled, but I wouldn't have held it against you. So why didn't you ever do it?"

To be honest, not once has he had to think about what it would be like if you did that for him, but then once the thought has wandered on, to the other men you've danced for money, he'd love to chop his dick off. 

Silently, he looks down at you and you sigh softly, "If you're not going to answer me, at least let me go so I can talk to Deanna."

You don't have the strength or much desire to deal with Rick's moods any further and pull your arm out of his grip.

You only get two steps before he calls after you, "Do you want me to ask you?"

Sluggishly, you shake your head. The problem with Rick is that he knows exactly what he wants in every way, only when it has to do with you, it seems like he's always just vacillating back and forth without committing. 

Also, the fact that he asks you if he should have asked you just gives you an unnecessary headache, and you say quietly enough so that only he can hear, "Do it or don't. You can do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want, but please remember one thing: make up your mind, because someday it will be too late. I can promise you that."

Rick is incredibly important to you, but at some point, this insecurity with him just isn't enough for you. 

You never know what he's serious about and if some things just slip out because he doesn't think about it.

Slowly, you walk to the house you've all been pointed to, feeling Rick's gaze at your back with every step.

It's not until you enter the house that you can take a breath and are actually happy to be talking to a new person.

During the whole conversation you have the feeling that the people here seem to be okay and when you are allowed to leave the house, the blond man you were staring at so shamelessly before is waiting on the porch.

Jerking to a halt, you just stare at him as his full lips part, "Hey, I'm Ron. I was wondering if you wanted me to show you around? You're here with a larger group, but I was hoping you might still like to look around with a local" he winks at you.

You look over his shoulder where you can see Rick practically stabbing him with his eyes and then you look back into Ron's warm brown eyes, "Yeah, I'd love to."

You try not to think about how awful you must smell, and about how you look, it's best not to even get started.

But he doesn't complain and is so incredibly nice to you that you quickly warm up and you're not just talking about Alexandria. 

You learn that he studied law and was housed here in Alexandria from the beginning when all hell broke loose. 

You find it hard to believe that he's barely left the protected walls, and you're about to ask if he's even killed a walker before he points to a pretty house: "That's where Deanna put you and your friends up."

Incredulous, you look at him, "A whole house?"

Your face makes him chuckle softly, "You'll be assigned more, but for the first night you'll have to share it. The others are still being fixed up for you."

His gaze is on you as you look up at the house and he says softly, "You're beautiful."

Smiling, you lower your gaze and look down at your feet. 

Every once in a while Rick has told you that you're beautiful, but otherwise it's been forever and you don't quite know what to answer than you say simply, "Thank you."

Quietly, Ron clears his throat, "Is the big bearded guy who looks so gloomy your boyfriend?"

You can no longer contain yourself and have to hold your stomach in laughter, "Bearded? Gloomy? Oh my God...you mean Rick..."

Usually Rick doesn't wear his beard this long, but there wasn't much shaving going on in the woods, so that's what he looks like, and you can't stop laughing as you think about what Rick must look like to new eyes. 

Compared to that, you probably look like you just flew in from a modeling job.

Giggling, you grab his arm and squeeze lightly, "Rick? No, he's not my boyfriend." 

As you say this, you realize that this is the first time you've really said it clearly and not titled it with an 'it's complicated'.

As you stand laughing with Ron in front of the house, Rick stands in the shower with his head leaning against the cold tiles. 

He has no idea how, in the space of a few hours, he managed to get himself into such a mess that you took off with the blonde toddler.

He groans in frustration and can't help but think of how you lovingly pulled the leaf out of his beard in the barn and pressed up against him that night. 

He thinks of how you laugh softly when he stumbles and how your eyes light up whenever you look up at him.

He lets out a "fuck" and bangs the flat of his hand against the tiles.

Your face pops up in his mind the whole time and he can't get rid of it. 

His breathing becomes erratic and he releases his hand from the tiles to reach for his cock. In gentle movements he runs over its length, thinking of how your small hand would feel on his body. 

How you would look at him full of innocence and stand on your tiptoes to breathe into his ear how much you love him.

A jolt goes through his body and he moans your name softly.

His whole body is tense and in steady movements he brings himself moaning to climax and still it's not enough for him.

In the meantime you have arranged to meet Ron tomorrow and go into the house where the others have already gathered.

Most of them are freshly showered and you go in search of the bathroom. 

You're about to turn the corner when you collide with a half-naked Rick. 

Before you can land on your butt though, because the guy is like a wall, he holds you by the shoulders and saves you from kissing the floor.

He looks at you like you're an apparition and you don't know that just a few minutes ago he was moaning your name as he came twitching in his own hand.

Silently you want to push past him, but he grabs your hand, "You were out with the toddler."

You want to pull away from him, but his grip is too strong, "None of your business."

There's a brief silence in which you just stare at each other before Rick whispers hoarsely, "Deanna told me that some have never really been behind that wall, and I bet you your lover never has either."

Quietly, you hiss, "Even if he wasn’t. What difference does it make?"

He straightens up to his full height and slides his hand from your arm to your hand, "Do you really want to start something with such a guy?"

You allow him to slide his fingers between yours, "Jesus Rick. I've known him for 3 hours and even if I did, you couldn't care less. What the hell is wrong with you?"

With a flourish, you pull your hand away from him and he grits his teeth, "I just don't like it."

Desperately, you throw your arms in the air, "So what?! Why do you care so much?"

Again, silence falls between you. Exasperated, you dig your finger into his chest, "Get your shit together, Rick."

With those words, you storm off, slamming the door behind you. 

Breathing heavily, you lean your back against the wooden door and take a shaky breath. 

The fact that he's acting out like this causes a strange mixture of excitement and anger to flare up, and you let yourself slide to the floor by the door.

Angry at you and himself, Rick stomps to the door and growls, "You better not lay anywhere near me tonight. You might as well run off to your lover."

It's completely irrational of him, but his jealousy boils over and he hears you yell from the other side of the door, "Like I'd even think about laying down next to an asshole and I'm telling you, don't you touch me one more time."

The whole house must hear it as Rick stomps to the stairs and hisses loud enough for everyone to hear, "Before I'd chop off my hands."

You're both lying and you know it, but neither of you would give in, which is why you spend the night at the other end of the room and disappear from the house early in the morning before everyone else to meet up with Ron.

…

Ron is passionate about botany and has led you to a flower bed to show you the plants and explain their properties, that's when you hear Rick's deep voice coming closer and closer some distance away.

You try to focus on Ron, but you just can't ignore Rick's broad southern accent, and when he suddenly stops, you know he's spotted you. 

You don't dare turn around as you hear him approach again and his deep voice thunders over your head, "Flowers?"

Immediately Ron straightens up and smiles openly at Rick, "Yes, aren't they beautiful?"

You close your eyes, knowing full well that Rick will ridicule it and Ron is such a pure soul that he won't even notice what Rick is doing, so you interject as a precaution, "Yes, they're beautiful."

Ron smiles even wider at you, "So are you."

When Rick saw you with the idiot, he already thought he was going to puke, but after those words, he just sees red, "Keep your hands off her."

Surprised, Ron looks at him, "Please what?"

Quicker than expected, you turn to him and hiss, seething with anger, "You shut your mouth."

He just can't stand to see you with the toddler and points his head toward the house, "Can we talk?"

Immediately you shake your head, "What for?"

Rick looks you firmly in the eye, "Please?"

In that moment, it's like it always used to be and you nod slowly, "You have 10 minutes."

Rick walks back to your house and you turn to Ron and say, "Sorry. I have to go sort something out with him for a minute."

Rather reluctantly, you follow Rick inside and stop in the middle of the empty kitchen, "What do you want to tell me?"

Only now do you see that Rick has cut his beard shorter and he looks as hot as ever again. He seems to be thinking about what he wants to say to you and you start to get impatient, "Either there's something coming now or I'm leaving because you can't stand me near you."

Quickly he reaches for your hand and you hiss, "Don't touch me."

Instead of letting go of you, he pulls you to him with all his might and says softly, "I don't like it when you talk to the flower guy."

Oh my god. 

He's going to freak you out. 

In disbelief, you snort, "Holy shit, Rick. Why don't you just let me do what I want? You can't tell me who to like and who not to like. This has nothing to do with you."

He takes a deep breath, "I just don't want it. Can't you just do what I ask you to do?"

You can't believe what he's saying and slap his chest hard with your free hand, "Are you out of your mind?! I couldn't care less whether you like it or not. Especially not with this more than shitty reasoning. You have absolutely no idea what you want in life, Rick. One second you're telling me you don't want me around, and the next you're trying to - what, actually? Protect me? From a young man who loves spending time with me and appreciates it? From a man who is so sweet that you seem like a prehistoric man marking his territory? And for what? If you should not know it: I am NOT your property! You can't push me back and forth as it suits you and you have no right to me at all. Especially not if you don't know how..." and then his fingers are in your mouth.

Surprised, you fall silent and stare at him with huge eyes.

He doesn't know, himself, exactly why he did it, but you wouldn't stop talking and your full lips were so inviting that he just did it.

Actually, the second you stared at him with your eyes wide open, he was expecting you to just bite his fingers, but when you let your tongue slide over his fingers, he gasps in surprise.

Your body shakes with adrenaline and it's like a knee-jerk reaction as you take his fingers deeper into your mouth and moan softly muffled by his fingers.

The situation between you is completely absurd, especially after you actually want to slap him, but you allow Rick to press you against him at the waist and walk you backwards until he can lean against the kitchen counter and you close your eyes, fluttering, as you feel his hardening cock against your belly.

You don't look at him again until he slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you let him have it with a soft 'plop'.

The tension between you is palpable and Rick knows exactly what he wants at this moment. What he's always wanted.

So he leans down to you and presses his lips greedily to yours. 

He's had enough of deliberately choosing not to make the next move with you over and over again, and he'd rather risk you hitting him than lose you without a fight to the idiot with the flowers.

The fact that you don't pull away from him, but pull him even deeper to you at the back of his head, makes his heart beat that much faster and he buries his fingers in the soft skin of your hips.

He's felt your body against his before, but never have you clung to him like you do now, and he already knows he'd never forget it. 

Never could he forget the way your moans sound in his ears and the way your body rubs against his.

You don't care how needy you act as you release your hands from his hair and reach for the buttons of his shirt. 

Gasping for air, you pull away from him and whimper, "I want you."

Rick beautiful blue eyes are dark with desire, "Fuck, yeah."

In one fluid motion, he turns you around and lifts you onto the counter he was leaning against earlier.

Now that he has you pressed against him by your thighs so that your middle is pressed down on his cock, you tremble in his arms and whisper, "That took a long time."

Breathing heavily, Rick takes your chin in his calloused fingers and pulls you close to his lips again, "I'll make it worth your time, baby."

You put your hands back on the buttons of his shirt and undo one button at a time, "You called me that before."

His voice is rough with arousal, "Oh really?"

You press closer to him so your lips graze his, "Yes. In the barn you called me baby too. I thought it was a joke."

His hands slide down your thighs and his thumbs brush over your insides in such a way that you have to force yourself to focus on his words, "I didn't even realize it."

Smiling, you press your lips to his already swollen lips again and tug at the last buttons. 

The bottom two give way and fly across the kitchen, and you pull his shirt over his shoulders so you can finally feel his bare skin under your fingers.

His muscles tense the closer you get to his waistband, and before you can reach for his belt, he breaks away from your lips and takes the hem of your top in his hands.

Unresisting, you raise your arms and because you hate wearing bras, Rick's gaze immediately settles on what you yourself think are your beautiful breasts, "You're going to kill me."

He immediately lowers his head to cup your nipple with his lips and you have to hold onto his shoulder to keep from toppling backwards. You can't tell he has no idea what he's doing as he takes your other breast in his hand and keeps pinching the tip as he gently bites down on the other side.

Gasping, you take a breath as Rick murmurs against your skin, "You probably don't even know how many times I've had to think about what it would be like to fuck you."

Heat moves between your legs and you try to rub against him, which isn't so easy as he plays with his breasts, driving you crazy.

He loves to feel your body react to him and he eases off your breasts to kiss your belly, letting his tongue dance across your belly button.

Gently, he places his flat hand on your chest and pushes you down until you're lying flat on the kitchen counter and he can take off your pants, including your panties.

It's not the first time a man has knelt between your legs, but with Rick it's something completely different. 

Never before have you been so physically and emotionally attracted to someone as you are to him.

Sure, Ron is a nice man, but he doesn't even come close to Rick's engaging power and his attraction to you.

Your breathing is erratic and you notice your pussy tighten as his breath meets your wet center, "It's kind of pathetic that you're already this wet for me and I barely had to do anything."

He breathes a kiss on your pussy and you cry out softly, making him chuckle, "But I'm not complaining."

Rick lets his gaze slide over your body, which is sprawled out in front of him, and he knows he's the luckiest man in the world right now. 

His dream girl is letting him take her on a kitchen counter and your twitching pussy is begging for him to finally bury his face between your legs. 

So he slides your legs over his shoulders and follows your silent request by licking once over your wetness from bottom to top. 

As he expected, your whole body rears up and he has to squeeze harder with his free hand to keep you on your back as he presses his nose to your clit and licks you the way he's wanted to do for months.

Moaning, you squirm on the table and gasp, "Rick...oh my God..." 

Blindly you grab his hair and pull on it, making him moan against your pussy and as he shoves his tongue inside you, you think you're going to die of a heart attack.

His beard scratches your thighs and again you try to sit up as he hisses from his kneeling position, "If you move again, I'll stop."

When he talked to you like that when you were arguing, you hated how cocky he sounded, but in this situation it only turns you on more and you gasp, "Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah."

There he is sucking on your clit and you tighten your thighs around your head as you come trembling and moaning on his tongue.

How violently you respond to him is reward enough for him, and he reaches to unzip his pants because it's so tight he can't take it anymore.

He waits until you're lying weak as a doll on the counter only then straightens up, holding your legs on his shoulder, "Didn't you want to go back to Ron?"

He knows full well you wouldn't go in your condition, but the venomous look you give him is worth it, "You're so jealous of him."

Caught, he winces, but tries to cover it up, "Why should I? Whose cock is about to be in your pussy? His or mine?"

To emphasize his question, he tilts his head and presses his cock against your wet entrance, which makes you gasp, but still you bring out, "Because I like him."

Warningly, he pushes forward a bit and with your legs still on his shoulders, you're even tighter than you already are and he growls, "He can be your friend, but you're mine. Your pussy is mine and I swear to you he will never have you."

You try to be angry at his possessiveness, but all you can think about is the tip of his cock pressing against your pussy and you pant softly, "I don't belong to anyone. I told you that before."

Firmly he grips your throat and you tear up as he squeezes. 

Not so tight that he'll cut off your air, but tight enough that you're embarrassed to admit that your pussy is twitching again and he notices, "So? How bad do you want my cock inside you?"

He doesn't want to admit that he probably wants to fuck even more badly than you do, but as he sees you squirm, he's sure he's going to get what he wants.

You try to press your butt against him so that his cock finally slides inside you, but his grip is tight and you close your eyes in defeat, "I'm yours."

Rick exhales deeply, "You always have been."

Slowly he stretches your pussy with his cock and you reach for his hand, gasping for air. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours and feels like drowning as he is completely inside you.

Your grip on his fingers is surprisingly strong and he lets go of your throat to brace himself against the counter

He pulls back a little only to thrust into you again and your body rears back, "Rick...please...harder."

Rick pushes further between your legs and kisses you messily on the lips before fucking you the way he's always wanted to.

Forced to let go of your hand to hold your hips so you don't get pushed higher with each thrust, you place his hands on his cheeks instead to keep him with you and gasp hoarsely, "All I ever wanted was you, Rick. Only you."

You don't care how pathetic you sound at those words or if he's going to rip your heart out, and that's when he says something even more surprising, "I love you."

You press your breasts against his torso and allow him to kiss your neck as he is gasping over and over, "I love you. I love you so much."

You close your eyes and realize how he starts sucking on your neck, hitting the deepest point in your pussy over and over again. 

Unable to do anything but moan his name, you stroke his sweaty back. 

Still preoccupied with your neck he reaches for your hand and runs it over your torso, pressing it to your lower belly with his hand. 

He licks over your pulse to your ear and purrs, "Can you feel how deep I am inside you? How I can ruin you?"

His cock feels so good that you keep tightening around him, whimpering softly, "I'm about to cum...Rick...I can't hold it back...please..."

With a kiss, he muffles your pitiful sounds and breathes, "It's okay, baby."

That's all you need to melt trembling beneath him, clinging to him like he's all you need.

Your pussy clamps down so hard, around his cock, that he growls, "Fuck, I need to pull out."

Panicked, you cling to his face, "No. Please don't."

A wave of arousal slips into his cock at the thought of coming inside you, but he gasps again, "You sure?"

Hectically, you nod, "Yes. Cum inside me."

Groaning, he pushes himself deeper inside you again and you feel his whole body start to shake and his cock twitch inside you.

The primitive thought of marking you like this drives him further and further, and he fucks his way through his climax before collapsing on top of you, gasping for air, and burying you underneath him.

Your sweaty bodies cling to each other and Rick struggles to push himself up so he doesn't crush you, reaching out his hand to help you up.

You watch him pull his pants over his narrow hips, but leaves them open and bends over for your clothes. 

The muscles under his shiny skin move in a mesmerizing way, and as he straightens back up, you say softly, "I love you, too."

Surprised, he raises his eyebrows and you chuckle softly, "Don't act so surprised. Of course I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

The surprise drains from his face and is replaced by a grin, "Then we're not fighting anymore?"

I roll my eyes playfully, "Just because I love you doesn't mean I can't be mad at you. But right now, it's all good."

Rick bites his lower lip, "I hope you don't hit me for this, but you forgot something."

Skeptically I look at him, "And what would that be?"

Gently, he kisses you on the lips and then says softly, "I must have been fucking you for longer than 10 minutes."

Irritated, I ask, "Could be. Do you want me to praise you for that now? Please don't tell me you're one of those guys who expects a reward for lasting longer than thirty seconds."

Laughing, he shakes his head, "No, baby. Your flower boy is just outside safely waiting for you."

And that's when you think of it again. 

You just left him outside and then just forgot about him. 

Quickly you jump off the counter and snatch your clothes from Rick's hand, "Oh fuck."

As you get dressed, Rick leans against the kitchen counter with his shirt off and his pants still open and crosses his arms in front of his chest, "And I'm supposed to be jealous of that guy? All I had to do was stick my fingers in your mouth and you forgot he existed."

You raise a finger and wave it left and right, "It was totally inappropriate to do that."

He watches you pull your top over your head, "And you thought it was hot."

"Oh gosh," you moan, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "I'll see you later."

Smiling, you walk to the door and he calls out, "I love you."

Quickly you turn to him again and throw him a kissing hand before disappearing to the door, "I love you too Rick."

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @acciocarlgrimes

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 🤭)

[penny00dreadful]

So... some of you may have noticed my fics have come to a screeching halt the last couple of months which is not like me and I am here to explain myself.

Babygirl, I have been preparing.

The end of this month is my 1 year anniversary of posting in this fandom, of posting any of my work online after not doing it for like fifteen fucking years and it has brought me so much incandescent joy, I decided I had to do something for it.

(I've also hit like... several milestones which is fucking insane like you all know I'm just some cranky bog witch, right??)

I have been working on my WIPs for over the last two months. All... holy mother of god... like nine of them???

Some of these have been completed, some I am still writing and some are mostly done.

So starting from my anniversary date, 23rd October, every second or third day, I'll be posting a chapter of something.

I have so much material built up this shit could go on until 2024

@hbyrde36 called it my own personal Penny00Dreadful BigBang... and yeah kinda! 😅

I wanted to do this to show just how much I love this community. Your kind words, your support, your unhinged ramblings, your obsessive love, your talent (for free??) it's all amazing it's so amazing and I wanted to explode forth with my love for it so I figured why the fuck not do this stupid idea??😅

All of these will be posted both to tumblr and AO3 so subscribe over there to keep updated or follow me here!

OH! And let me know if you wanna be tagged! If you wanna be tagged for a specific fic or for everything I'll add you, whatever you want.

You've made me so happy and so warm for the last year. The way I know if I'm having a bad day I just need to hop onto this side of tumblr and everything will be peaches and gravy again.

I love you guys so much. 😘🖤

Updated Schedule - (18th Feb 2024)

Fic list with blurbs below the cut, this will (roughly) be the order they're posted in:

Return of The King - COMPLETE

Steddie Vampire AU with a twist! Vampire Steve comes back after falling to the bats. There is two more chapters left and those chapters have been completed.

Comeuppance - COMPLETE

Dustin just wants Steve to be happy. So he tries to parent trap him with Nancy. Clearly they should be together. But Steve's heart doesn't even seem to be in it at all! How is he so bad at this? And Eddie is being less than helpful

Rookie Mistake - COMPLETE

My Steddie Established Relationship Spies AU oneshot that will have a multi-chapter prequel fic coming very soon after!

Eddie is "retired" and Steve has been injured on the job, so he's supposed to be taking it easy. How hard could a walk to the gas station be?

Before He Cheats - COMPLETE

Songfic! Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

I literally have no excuse for this one. The rotted brainworms were behind the steering wheel with this one.

One evening, Eddie gets a call from some guy named Steve dropping the news on him that his boyfriend has been cheating on him. With this Steve person and Steve had no idea up until that day.

And Eddie rarely takes that shit lying down.

Steddievember Smut - COMPLETE

No Nut November is here! One can play however he wants. The other just has to wait for December to roll around. I have no other words to describe what this will be, it does what it says on the tin. I blame the STWG discord server. Currently we're looking at four little ficlets for this.

Cat and Mouse - COMPLETE

The Steddie Spies AU Prequel! How they got together and the extreme ups and downs their enemies/rivals to lovers journey goes through. I had so much fun with this one.

And They Were Roommates! - COMPLETE

omg they were roommates.

Steve and Eddie don't hate each other exactly. They just... tolerate each other. But one night Eddie doesn't come home for hours. Long after he's supposed to and it's not like Steve is worried or anything... he's just... concerned for a fellow human being... that's all.

Through The Valley - IN PROGRESS

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Eddie, Dustin and Nancy have a nice little community of survivors outside of Hawkins that they take care of, surviving day to day. Everyone's a little broken, missing the rest of their Party just hoping that one day they'll find each other again.

Devotion

Dungeons and Dragons AU. Steve is the golden boy of the small town of Hawkins. Harrington in name and now a Paladin with his very own oath to hunt down the Bard, the witch Eddie Munson and bring him back to justice under High Priest Henry Creel.

[the-vegetarian-artist]

Asking you about your ska troll concept! They look so cool and I would love to learn more about them

@shadow-ray4 thank you for asking, genuinely was positive that no one would ask 😅😣 but I am HAPPY to share! To start here are the full refs I've done so far and explain as much of the concept as I've developed in my brain lmaooo (ALL MAJOR DEETS undercut cause its gonna be LONG)

@goldendaydna also helped with this and lowkey a concept we are semi working out since her sona Golden Tempo is an Urbano Troll (a recently named concept lol)

Ska Trolls are Big, Bright, and BOLD. Together, these elements create an energetic, highly danceable, highly vibe-able troll genre. They also explode into confetti and confections when excited or surprised. Dont worry they pop back up as if nothing even happened leaving a pile of candy and crepe paper on the ground. (Ska trolls are super popular with the kids.) They practically live for the music, known for dancing for several days straight with hardly a rhyme or reason to stop.

*Like even the smallest of surprises just make em POP! (Bonus Branch doodle cause why not??)

Adara, my sona, is a 4th Generation Ska Troll (her father being a 3rd Gen while her mama is a punk rock troll) so TECHNICALLY shes Ska-punk, but she still has the appearance of your standard Ska Troll so it's more a music specific.

Her great great grandparents being a reggae leaning funk troll and a rocksteady leaning funk troll who formed The Underground after being seemingly left behind along with other alt/subgenres of the main 6 kingdoms when they split. A place for alternative trolls like herself and her friends could live and PARTY HARD without micro judgments against their music. It's a haven for other trolls who feel they dont quite fit a specific genre or even one at all, but also HELLA secluded from the rest of the Trolls so they look different and SOUND different. (Cave acoustics and all) The surface likely gets trimmers and even earthquakes from their raging parties. (I'm still fleshing this out but I have this piece of "concept art")

*Its literally a bioluminescent shroom town. Like glowing mushroom homes, food, ect- glow worms on the cave ceiling like stars in a night sky. All the various alternative genre of trolls have like a glowy eye thing that allows them to just see naturally in the dark too-

*these were some posters I took heavy color influence from for Adara's pallet (I know they arent all ska, but punk, reggae, and rocksteady aesthetics were an addition)

Obviously I took most inspo from pinatas, party/confetti poppers, and the sorts mainly because the funk trolls poop...well. baked goods and I wanted to play off that but lean into the crazy evolution the trolls have canonically in the universe that foam at the mouth for 👀 🤲 But I wanted to make sure her colors and patterns gave off not just Funk influence, but also micro subculture influences that are within The Underground. (This including but not not limited to, how closely Ska Trolls were to the Urbano Trolls communities within The Underground)

*Exchanged tassels and stringy fur textures for more paper textures. Like literally walking, talking, breathing pinatas fr

*Queen Essence I love yuuuu

They are bigger than the average Funk troll and have very similar features to them, but texture and color wise are very different. They much more vibrant and staturated. Giving a mix of felt and crepe paper. They have tails as sortve as an evolutionary trait but also it gives maximum party mode as it can hold objects and act as an extra hand. Their ears are also longer and slimmer, making it harder for them to lift or perk up so they stay droopy unlike their funk counterparts. They are all naturals at brass instruments (mainly trumpet) and ALWAYS have a hop in their step.

*edit if the pics keep messing up... imma have to just remake the post 😭

[aritsukemo]

Paradise | Chapter Three - Sabito and Makomo | KNY

Summary: Sakonji Urokodaki's grueling training begins!

Warnings: Nothing much. Tanjiro, Y/n, and Sumiko are in pain for the majority of this chapter.

A/N: Here's chapter three that's been sitting in my drafts for like two to three months now! This is my first time doing a first pov so I hope my lack of expertise doesn't show too much!😅 I'm going to re-remind everyone once the next chapter comes out, but chapter four will be posted alongside the first oc profile! You'll only be able to read it over on Wattpad, but I hope everyone goes to give it a quick read whenever I post it! :D

Tagging: @overluvsick, @nursedflowers, @jspidey5 + anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

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Third Person Pov

Crickets and other noisy bugs converse loudly during the night. Tanjiro sits at a small table, a singular lamp by his side as his soft hand holds a brush—which bristles already stained in ink and are coloring symbols into the once clean sheet. The brush glides across the page until it comes to an abrupt stop and  goes back to the start, hovering over the next clean area of the paper. Tanjiro looks behind his shoulder. Nezuko sleeps peacefully on the futon behind him. Y/n sits propped up against the wall with one of her legs kicked up, her eyes closed, and silent snoring coming from her in steady breaths. Sumiko leans against her, also fast asleep.

Guess it's finally time to get some rest. After all, his first day of training begins tommorow.

Closing the book, the light shines on the book cover. It displays in big symbols and clean, black ink, "Journal" with his full name written in smaller characters below that. Tanjiro's hands leave the book at last after spending his final free day writing for hours without end..

First Person, Tanjiro's Pov

 "The Demon Slayer Corps has around several hundred members. It's an organization unrecognized by the government, yet it has existed since ancient times and continue to hunt demons today. As for the one leading the Demon Slayer Crops, however, that remains a mystery."

 "Demons. They mercilessly kill and feed on humans and their flesh. No one has a clue where or when they first appeared. Their physical prowess is remarkable. Wounds heal in the blink of an eye. Flesh is restored no matter what damage comes to it and limbs that are hacked off can easily regenerate. Some demons can shapeshift, others have otherwordly powers. The only ways to kill these heinous creatures are via sunlight or decapitation with a special sword."

 "The Demon Slayers battle demons with their mortal bodies. Since they're only human, they're wounds are slow to heal, and once lost, their limbs never grow back! Even so, they continue to selflessly fight to protect other humans!" Those were the first words Mr. Urokodaki spoke to us when our training to become demon slayer swordmen first began. As he was explaining everything, I couldn't help but look at her from the corner of my eye.

Y/n's face hid everything from me like an iron wall. Her scent opened a window for me to peer into, but whenever it did, it always left me puzzled. It always contradicted her in some way and that fact worries me.

I want to ask her so many questions. About these contradicting feelings, about her past that she for some reason refuses to tell.. I want to have a heart to heart with her like a brother and sister would..

But now's not the time for questions. For now, I need to focus on becoming a demon slayer so that I can start finding a cure to turn Nezuko back into a human!

 "I am a trainer. I literally train swordsmen," Urokodaki said to us that early morning, "There are many trainers like me all over Japan, and each of them train their pupils with their own regimen in their location."

 "To join the Demon Slayer Corps, you must survive the Final Selection process held on Mt. Fujikasane. Whether or not you're eligible for Final Selection is up to me," He explained. I remember thinking at the time, "Simple enough."

How naive I was..

 Starting today, I'm going to keep a journal for Nezuko.

 I'm decending the mountain again today. I'm going to train my hardest so that I don't die during Final Selection!

 After repeatedly descending the mountain, day after day, I'm starting to learn how to avoid most of the traps. I've become stronger and I'm even more adept at detecting scents than before. Even so..the traps are getting more and more difficult. At this point, I'm starting to believe he's actually trying to kill us! I nearly fell into a hidden pit of knives today..

 Despite the increase in difficulty, I seem to be the only one struggling to keep up. Y/n and Sumiko have cleared the mountain a couple times without problems. At first, Sumiko would trigger traps left and right fearlessly and would just narrowly dodge them. She really worried me for a while, but after some scolding from Mr. Urokodaki, she started trying to dodge them at last. I'm relieved that he stepped in before she got seriously injured.

 As for Y/n, she seems to be on a whole different level! She's quick on her feet—quicker than both me and Sumiko—and her natural senses manage to keep her from triggering most of the traps on the mountain. In only half a day, she had already managed to make it up and down the mountain three times! Seriously, how does she do that?

I run down the mountain as fast as I my legs can take me and leap over an oncoming rope. As soon as I planted my feet back onto the ground, a log comes swinging right at me! I barely dodged it and stumbled a bit. Because of that, I nearly triggered a trap..

Mr. Urokodaki's scent hits my nostrils and leads a clear trail to the next trap ahead. Knives fly from the trees and I find myself stopping to look. My heart skips as I swing my body out of the way, just bsrely dodging as the knives dig into the tree behind me.

My legs felt like jelly and I wobbled right into an obvious trap. I nearly twist my ankle catching myself before I fell completely into the hole—thank goodness for that, because under me were sharp knives, threatening to cut me open with even the slightest touch.

I gasped out in horror without realizing. But really, is a pit of knives really necessary?

As this was happening, Y/n and Sumiko shoot past me. Y/n is ahead, her face still like a stone as she hopped over ropes and other traps without so much as pausing for a breath. Sumiko mimcks her, taking wide leaps over everything until her foot steps down on her demise. A snap is heard and I suddenly see her dangling in the air by her foot.

 "Ah, Sumiko!" I manage to maneuver myself out of the way of the hole and crawl to my feet. I jog up to my little sister in need only to realize that the rope was just out of my reach. Oh no.

In the end, I accidentally triggered a trap trying to help her down and got myself stuck as well. Mr. Urokodaki had to cut us down and we both got a scolding for our slip ups..

 I made my descent down the mountain again today, sword in hand, but it really hampered my movements. I can't stop getting ensnared by traps! Sumiko seems to be having as much trouble as I am, if not worse. Her sense of balance has been thrown off entirely and she can't seem to dodge even the simplest of traps..

 Y/n started only a few days before we did, but she's already gotten the hang of her sword. She truly is amazing!

I run down the mountain, large sword hanging heavy on my hip and Sumiko by my side, and we simultaneously hop over a rope tied low to the ground. Urokodaki watches us in silence, arms crossed. And, although I can't see his face because of the mask, I know he's judging our every move.

Each trap I hop over, Sumiko lags behind, just barely being able to mimick my movements. She leaps after me, but she doesn't make it high enough to avoid a rope. I hear intense ruffling along with a small yelp and look over my shoulder to see that Sumiko's gone and there's a large pit where she used to stand.

 "Sumiko!" I find myself sliding to a stop, "Don't worry, I'll—" And then another snap echoes throughout the forest; a warning that I didn't process fast enough to heed. I fall back, but I wasn't even able to hit the ground before I'm snatched into the air..

We were kept stuck in our traps until Y/n finished her descent through the mountain. What makes things worse is that when Mr. Urokodaki cut me down, I fell right on my head..

 I swing my sword today. Well, it's not just today. After descending the mountain, I, along with Y/n and Sumiko, swing our swords until our arms nearly fall off. We do this every day.

 "Nine hundred ninety-one.. Nine hundred ninety-two..!" Numbers were shouted out in unison by all three of us as we stood side by side in a clearing at in the mountain. The evening glow shines down on us and our blades which causes them to gleam every time we swing downwards.

Every inch of my arm throbs with each tense of my muscles that are caused when I swing my sword. I've been clenching my teeth for so long that I'm scared they'll shatter if I don't ease up, but how am I supposed to do that? Even though they're beginning to numb over, my arms hurt so badly!

But at last, I can finally rest, "One thousand!" We all finally yell out, but immediately after we said that, Urokodaki gruffly follows up with his own shouting, "Five hundred more!" He told us.

And just as that demand reached my ears, I felt my tired soul completely shatter into pieces..

 "Swords break easily," That's what he told us beforehand. Though it's strong vertically, it's weak horizontally, so you need to apply the force straight along the blade. The blade's direction and the direction in which you apply force must be exactly the same. And that's when Urokodaki added, "If you ever damage the blade, in other words, break it, I'll snap your bones as well," in a very threatening tone of voice. Just thinking about it, makes me nervous all over again..

 Today, we did nothing but fall. We started training to break our falls and get up quickly from any position.

 We wield our swords, charging at Mr. Urokodaki, really trying to kill him. In contrast, Mr. Urokodaki is bare-handed and unarmed. Even so, he's ridiculously powerful! He flings me away and I roll on the ground every time..

 Even someone like Y/n seems to struggle when up against Mr. Urokodaki. She starts off good, getting up faster than me and Sumiko and manages to get a few swings in. None of them ever hit him, however, and in the end, she's always flung away just like me.

 Sumiko seems to have it the worse since she tends to charge at him with the intent on fighting bare-handed. Her sword gets in her way and she's always flipped or tossed away quicker than either of us. Every time it happens, my heart skips a beat thinking she'll accidentally land on her sword and hurt herself..

We stand before Mr. Urokodaki, swords in hand. I merely blink and in an instant, my world is flipped upside down! ..Literally. Before I even had the time to process that my feet were no longer planted on the ground, my face was already sliding against the gravel and my nose was already being invaded by the strong, muddy smell of the dirt that I had begun to grow used to.

As I crack my eyes open again, I spot Y/n running towards Mr. Urokodaki. She had already managed to regain her senses after the temprorary lapse and got up. How does she do that?

With her face scrunched in conentration, she charges forward and swings her blade when she's close enough. She immediately follows up with an upward slash attack after her intial strike misses. The movements of her swings are sharp, but I get the sense of aggression towards the tail end of every single strike. It's passive-aggressive which contrasts Mr. Urokodaki, who's movements are pretty lax as he dodges the majority of her swings by simply moving out of the way of her blade.

That relaxed air around his being leaves him for a mere moment as he goes on the offense. He suddenly charges forward and Y/n immediately raises her sword. She swings downwards with the intent of landing a singular strike, but he sidesteps her attack and I find myself having to tense and squint my eyes as to not miss Mr. Urokodaki's next movements. While she's still focused on her previous attack, Mr. Urokodaki steps behind her and lands a kick to the back of one of her knees which causes them to fold. She falls on one knee and Mr. Urokodaki waste no time in kicking her in the side and sending her tumbling away.

Both me and Sumiko get up at the same time, but I attack first. I run as fast as I can, mouth open and yelling as I hold my sword above my head..

And in less than a second, my view of the world was flipped upside down again and spinning like a wheel. I couldn't feel the ground anymore either which made it finally dawn on me what just happened; Mr. Urokodaki had flipped me into the air and the momentum of his throw had me rolling midair!

The revelation hits at the same time that I hit the ground. I land right on my chest which knocks the majority of the air outta my lungs in a loud gusp. Quickly after that, I hear light groans that signal Sumiko's defeat.

 "Again!" I hear Mr. Urokodaki demand and I catch myself groaning softly as I peel myself off the gravel. I don't know how long I can take being tossed around like this..

 Today, we learned breathing techniques and some forms. We'd get yelled at for not bracing our stomachs and clobbered to a plup..

 "Total Concentration breathing?" I questioned, my head instinctively tilting to the side a little.

 "That's right," Urokodaki said, "And I'm going to teach you three all ten of the Water Breathing forms."

 "Remember to take a long breath so the oxygen flows into every cell in your body," He told us, "This will enhance your body's natural healing power, and both stabilize and energize your spirit."

 "Relax your upper body.." He instructs and we do as he tells us to the best of our abilities, all of our shoulders' slumping, "..while bracing your lower half," I tense up my legs and feet. Y/n and Sumiko do the same.

 "All right, now breathe!" My head tilts back, and at a turtle's pace, I suck in as much air as I can. I exhale just as slowly, my whole body slumping..and then, bam! My eyes shoot open as pain shoots through my entire body and spit is propelled from my mouth and shot out in all directions.

Mr. Urokodaki had smacked me in the stomach and it felt horrible!

To try and ease the pain, my body curls into itself. I'm hunched over, shaking with my arms wrapped around my stomach and my knees bending when I hear Mr. Urokodaki yell, "Wrong!" And I hear groans. I guess Y/n and Sumiko had met a smiliar, painful fate.

 "Next! Forms!" Mr. Urokodaki shouts and we have no choice but to straighten back up. He didn't give us much to go off of, but I was determined and struck a pose anyways.

 "Right! Like this?" I ask, "Wrong!" He yells. And so, I snap into a different pose.

 "Like this?" I ask again only for him to repeat, "Wrong!" I change poses once again and promptly ignore the sideway looks of confusion, dissaproval, and embarrassment I get from my sisters—the latter two more apparent in the look Y/n gives me; the former one more accurately represented in Sumiko's dot-eyed expression—and yell out, "This?"

In an instant Mr. Urokodaki had popped me in the stomach once, then twice, then a third time, and unfortunately a fourth, fifth, and sixth which elicited a loud, whiny moan from me.

 After that, he told us to become one with the water.

We stood fairly high up on one of the ledges near the mountain we descend every morning as a warm up. Before us was a large waterfall that was so noisy that we struggled to hear each other despite standing side by side with one another. It loudly flowed it's abundance of water down to the bottom, which I couldn't really see all that well due to the constant stream blending together and crashing down producing a light steam at the bottom from the sheer coldness of the water..

And then, our demise rings out in the form of Mr. Urokodaki's voice, "What are you waiting for? Get in there!" And we're suddenly kicked off. Off instinct, I try to run away from my fate, but all it does is prolong the inevitable until gravity finally hits me and I go falling along with Y/n and Sumiko.

My stomach flutters in an uneasy sorta way at the airy feeling of falling from such a high vantage point. I scream, going to call out for the first person that pops into my head, "Nezuko..!" I drawl until I finally hit the water with a loud splash!

After a moment of floating along the stream, we all manage to pick ourselves up and huddle under the waterfall. As the heavy water comes relentlessly crashing down onto us, we stay firmly planted with our hands mashed together as if we were praying.

 "Nezuko..!" I find myself yelling, my voice being carried in the wind. Echoing and bouncing off the rushing waterfall, "I...! ..Am...! ..Water..!"

My constant yelling must've really irked Y/n, because after a while, she shouted at me, her voice strained but angry, "Could you..! Shut up..! ..For one second..?"

 As of now, it's been six months since Nezuko was last awake. Mr. Urokodaki summoned a doctor right away and had him examine her, but he found nothing wrong.

 But it's not normal for her to stay asleep like this.. I'm scared. Scared that one morning, I'll wake up to find her dead. Not a day goes by that I don't worry..

 Sumiko had begun staying up later and later at night. I think she's also worried about that possibility and it's causing her to fear sleeping. I try to soothe her nerves as best I can, but I fail to do much.. At least she seems to be getting along with Mr. Urokodaki well. I sometimes catch them talking late at night when they assume everyone's asleep. I have no idea what their talks could be about, but soon after their late night talks began, Mr. Urokodaki had started supplying her with books. She tends to stay up all night reading them now and it got to the point where catching her fast asleep, face first in a book was a common sight we all saw of her in the mornings.

 Whenever we talk about Nezuko, Y/n's face scrunches and she always says that it's only a matter of time. It upsets me badly to hear that she has no faith in Nezuko ever awaking up again, but now that I think on it, this is probably her way of coping with the situation herself. I think she's trying to be overly pessimistic in case of the worst happening so that she doesn't fall apart. Looking back on it, she acted like that for a while when dad's health started to decline and he ws bedridden..

 My descents are getting more dangerous and the air's even thinner since we've started descending from a higher point in the mountain. Time and time again, I think I might die, but at the same time, I've felt that, not just I, but all three of us have gotten stronger! Under Mr. Urokodaki's steady, stern guidance, we've all grown and I was sure at the time that we'd reach unspeakable heights with his help! ..And then it happened.. }

 "As of today, I have nothing more to teach you. The rest is up to you!"

 A year after we arrived at Mt. Sagiri, he told me that all of a sudden after I descended the mountain. I remember that initial feeling of surprise that struck me followed quickly by fear. After all, when he said that, it was just me there. I was the last out of the three of us to make it down the mountain. My first assumption was that this was some kind of punishment because of my own shortcomings, but then he told me to follow him. We walked for a long while—long enough for the air around us to grow colder and the snow to finally start falling—before we finally made it to a wide clearing with..a boulder in the center of it..

I found myself staring on in awe. Before me, was the largest boulder I had ever seen in my life. It was taller than both me and Mr. Urokodaki and wide to boot! That being said, it was surprising to see that a rope with long shide attached to it was wrapped all the way around it.

 "If you can slice this boulder, I will allow you to enter Final Selection," Mr. Urokodaki said after a while of my gawking. Without blinking, my eyes glide over to look at him and I only move my head a little to gaze at him for a moment before my head slid back in place and my eyes found itself on the large rock again.

I found myself thinking, "Is a boulder, especially on so big..even capable of being sliced with a sword? ..I don't think I can.." I barely noticed it, but my hand had made it's way to wrap around my sheathed katana, just under the hilt, "My sword will snap, no question!"

During my silent distress, Mr. Urokodaki stayed just as silent. Without any advice or tips or instructions, he turned on his heel and began walking away from me, "Mr. Urokodaki, please wait! ..Mr. Urokodaki!" I called his name again and again, but he just kept walking without turning back or saying anything to acknowledge my calls, leaving me alone with the tough boulder and the soft snow falling around me.. 

 After that, Mr. Urokodaki never taught me anything again. Not just me, he apparently did the same thing to Sumiko and Y/n, taking them to one of the many designated clearings in the mountain and giving them the same task before leaving. That thought comforted me a little knowing that I wasn't alone in this.

 Every day after that, I practiced what Mr. Urokodaki taught us over and over by myself. I was able to go over the basics like holding my breath and flexibility without trouble thanks to the notes I'd written down in this journal. But, even after six months had passed, I still couldn't slice the boulder. I felt frustrated. I wasn't training hard enough and it showed every single day I failed..

 But, just when the despair of the situation started to set in, he appeared..

A loud clank rang, echoing my failure throughout the area. I stood there with my sword laid against the boulder after having smacked my blade against the thick rock. My head hung low under the evening's bright, yellow glow and I huffed softly, unable to catch my breath.

 "Am I hopeless?" The thought stained my mind like ink on paper. It spread, inviting similar thoughts into my head until it plagued my brain entirely.

 "Have Y/n and Sumiko already sliced their boulders in half? Will they go on to become demon slayers without me?"

 "Is Nezuko going to die without ever waking up?"

Those thoughts made me anxious which made it hard to shake them away easily. They were dark, like black paint and had smeared itself all over and made it hard to think of anything else aside from this heavy feeling that had already begun to sink to the bottom of my gut; that depressing feeling of self-dissatisfaction.

But I can't give up! I've spent all this time training! It can't all be for nothing! I won't allow it to all be for nothing! This is for Nezuko!

Using those small pebbles of determination, I clench my teeth, move my sword out of the way, and headbutt the boulder. All while yelling words of encouragement into the air.

 "Keep working, Tanjiro!" I told myself, "You can do it! You have to!" And then landed another headbutt to the boulder. That seemed to anger it, because after that second headbutt, it screamed at me, "Shut up!"

..Wait, that wasn't the boulder. Looking up, my eyes immediately lock on a fox mask and I feel my brows scrunching from confusion. Sitting atop the boulder with his leg kicked up, was a kid seemingly around my age. His pink hair reminded me of a ripe peach and blended well with our surroundings, which were colored in orange and yellow to match the sky above. That said, his kimono top and calf leggings were covered in clashing, bright, yellow and green shapes that had me racking my brain from how familiar the pattern was.

 "A man shouldn't whine. It's unseemly," His voice caught me off guard because of how much deeper it was compared to my own. However, it wasn't gruff like Mr. Urokodaki's and still held this certain smoothness of youth that kept me from thinking he was older than me.

His sudden appearance raised questions that temporarily shushed the loud, disheartening thoughts screaming and running amok in my head. There was no scent to him which formed some of my biggest questions. Never in my life have I never been able to catch the scent of someone. Never.

 "No matter how much your suffer, a man should always bear it in silence," He got to his feet, and that finally made me take notice of the wooden sword in his hand, "That is, if you call yourself a man," And with that, he gracefully lept into the air. His plain, white haori raised, floating in the wind just like his hair. It distracted me, and because of that distraction, I wasn't able to process the shift in the air when he flipped. If it wasn't for my instincts, I would've also missed the raising of his wooden sword before it was brought down onto me with a sudden force.

His blade clanged against my metal hilt and before I was able to take in the fact that he was suddenly attacking me, the boy landed another attack on me. This time twisting to land a kick to my chin that had me flying back and landing on my head.

 "Slow. Weak. Immature. None of those are qualities of a man," He said and I found myself growing angry. Not because of his petty insult, but because of the fact that he attacked me without reason.

 "What are you doing?" I asked him only for him to mimic me and ask, "I'd like to know what you think you're doing."

 "What do you mean? I'm training," I told him, but he replied with a mean, "Hardly."

 "Now, how long do you plan to sit on your butt and not take a stance?" I don't know why, but when he said that, my body immediately moved. The authority in his tone was terrifyingly familiar so maybe that was the reason.

In so many ways..he reminds me of Mr. Urokodaki. I guess that's why my body jumped to do as he said.

He raises his hand and gestures me closer, "Come on. Come at me," He said, but I found myself hesitating.

 "But I have a real sword and you don't! What if you get hurt?" The question made him pause. I thought that was because it finally dawned on him how crazy he sounded for suggesting me to attack him wih an actual sword, but that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, his shoulders—no, his entire body shook and he threw his head back, laughing as if I had said the funniest joke in the world.

 "Well aren't you considerate! Thank you for worrying about me," He said, but the way he said it didn't sound the least bit grateful. He then said, "So, you think you're actually going to injure me?" And then he was suddenly in front of me. I stepped back on instinct with my blade raised halfway—a good move on my part, because he immediately brought his blade down on me and I was fast enough to meet him the rest of the way and block him.

He was strong. Even though he was fighting me with a wooden, practice sword, I still found my body shaking, quivering under the power he's putting against my actual sword. I remember it shocked me along with his next words, "Well, you have absolutely nothing to worry about!" He so confidently said to me, "I'm far more powerful than you! After all, I've already sliced my boulder!"

Those words echoed in my ears as they were slowly injested. He..sliced a boulder? The thought shocked me as much as it sparked hope in me. The fact that it's not impossible made a tiny weight lift off my heart.

But I had no time to dwell in that feeling, because the masked boy jumped into the air. As dust kicked up where he previously stood, I found my eyes closing—an almost deadly mistake. I was lucky enough that time to feel the shift in the wind. I turn at the last second, just fast enough to throw my sword up to block the boy's incoming attack from above. It didn't faze him at all. He jumped back and immediately jumped into the air again.

His speed was incredible. I could just barely catch the aftermath of his jumps as he zipped around me. I could only assume that he would touch the ground whenever he passed a tree because I could never catch him touching the ground. It was almost as if he was flying and it left me looking around like a chicken without its head.

Then suddenly, he was right beside me. I was able to see him at last, but him being right at my shoulder didn't process fast enough. In the end, all I had time to do was turn my head to look at him—with a look that probably told everything I was thinking in that moment—before the thunder of my first defeat was sounded and I was suddenly on the floor, my face and body stinging and shaking a little..

 "You've learned nothing," He stood behind me, totally composed aside from his voice that sounded pretty upset, kinda like Urokodaki when he used to scold me for my mistakes, "You haven't mastered a single thing! Certainly not the breathing technique taught by Mr. Urokodaki; Total Concentration Breathing!"

That caught my attention most out of everything else he said. It made waves of confusion and surprise wash over me and temporarily redirected me from the pain he inflicted on me, "He knew Mr Urokodaki? The breathing technique too?" Were the questions that intially surfaced, but his identity is still on the top of my list of questions for him.

As I turned my body to face him and sat up, he continued, "All you did was memorize it as fact!" He lifts his sword and points it at me, "Your body has no clue what it needs to do!"

 "Just what the hell were you doing for a whole year and a half?" The question rang out extra loud just as his sword clanged against my steel, "You need to slam it into your flesh!" He shouted as he broke away as did I only to immediately clash our blades again.

 "More!" As he picked up speed, I tried to do the same, trying my hardest to replicate his movements. Thankfully, I was just fast enough that his blade met mine continuously instead of my battered skin, "More!" I took the defensive, staying strong as he slammed and hammered his blade against mine in a quick succession, "More!" A particularly strong hit sends me back but I plant my feet into the ground and manage to still myself before he closes the distance and I was forced to go on the offensive once again, "So that you become the embodiment of what Mr. Urokodaki taught you!"

He sends me back again and I recover quick enough to watch him ready his next attack and swing it at me, all while screaming at me, "Pound it all into the marrow of your bones!" 

 "I'm trying!" I found myself crying out the next time our blades met, "Every single day! I'm trying with everything I got!"

 "..But I'm not making any headway!" As my own words sunk in like a rock falling to the bottom of a lake, I found my voice slowly cracking apart just as my resolve has been these past six months, and I finally admitted aloud, "I just can't go any further!"

Despite that all he did was tell me as he lunged at me, "Don't 'try', just do it! If you're a man.." And then he quickly landed his attack on me, smacking me in the chest. I clench my teeth as the striking pain begun to spread and my feet left the ground for just a moment before they're forced back down as he harshly slammed his sword down onto my arm, "..If you call yourself a man!" And just as I raised my sword to attack him back, he spins and his sword hits my chest again, but at an angle this time.

 "There's no other way to go but forward!" I stumbled back, my feet uncomfortably light which made me tip and sway in different directions. The boy followed after me as if he was chasing down a fleeing wild animal. Our blades clashed again and he shouted, "Bring it on!"

 "Show me what you're capable of!" He swings at me, but this time I'm quick enough to completely jump out of the way. His words had an extra surge of adrenline shoot through me and I found my mouth falling open and letting out a loud scream of my own. No words, just a strong yell that came from the core of my chest—from the depths of my heart—where all my pent up frustration resided.

But then I miss my swing and my second defeat is sounded in an instant. It's painful, moreso physically as I watched his arm swing up and I felt his wooden sword collide with my chin. It was an extra powerful swing, one that had me flying several inches off the ground when it hit me. My entire jaw immediately numbed over in a desperate attempt to soothe the searing pain that shot through it and up my cheeks.

And then, suddenly all I could feel was that pain as my vision slowly faded. I had passed out, but what made matters worse was that I hadn't even hit the floor before everything went black..

The next time I opened my eyes, I was met with the sight of the crescent moon peaking through cracks made by thin clouds. All the pain in my face had dulled aside from my chin which stung like a bad bee sting. Everything around me had a blue-tinted screen over it that matched sky, signalling that nighttime had arrived. My eyes widen at the realization.

 "Are you alright?" A voice asked. It was soothing to my ears, kinda like putting a cool cloth on a bad bruise. It was nothing like his voice.

I shot up, immediately turning my head to be met face to face with eyes that match the night sky above. Despite her sudden presence, the only question I asked her was, "Did you see that?" She tilted her head, signalling to me her confusion but I continued regardless, my eyes blown wide.

 "That was an incredible blow! Not a single bit of unwasted motion! It was beautiful!" I praised. It really was amazing and my words could hardly explain it in a way that gave it proper justice which is probably why I started moving my hands and shaking my head to further exaggerate my point.

Now that I look back on that moment, I probably looked really silly to her.

 "I want to become a swordsman like that!" I exclaimed and then I asked her, "Do you think I can become like him?" And I watch as her lips widen into a smile. One without a hint of underlying doubt or hidden skepticism. It was a completely pure and trusting smile that she gave me as she spoke in a soft voice.

 "I'm sure you can..since I'll be looking after you from now on," She told me. And it was only then, when her thick eyelashes fluttered and her eyes closed, and that pure, trusting smile of hers widened that I realized just how pretty the girl before me was..

But who was she? It was then that it dawned on me that I didn't even ask. And so, with my cheeks tingly and warm and my heavy jaw having my bottom lip hung low, I mumbled out, "Who are you?"

 That night, she told me her name, Makomo, as well the name of the boy I sparred with, Sabito.

 Makomo points out the defects in my style. Throughout countless days, she corrected my unnecessary movements and my bad habits.. I found myself wondering, why? Why is she doing this for me? Where did she come from? I once asked her, but she didn't tell me anything. Something in me refrained me from asking the others about her or Sabito..

 Speaking of which, Makomo often said, "We love Mr. Urokodaki very much." It was her favorite phrase. She said that Sabito and her weren't siblings and that Mr. Urokodaki raised them after they'd been orphaned.

 "They're other children besides us. They're always around, watching you, Tanjiro," was something she said to me once. You see, I've come to realize that Makomo is a bit of a strange girl. Her way of speaking is abstract and dreamy and she says things in a weird way..

 "See, Total Concentration Breathing accelerates your blood circulation and your heart rate. That causes your temperature to shoot up and makes you strong like a demon despite still being human," She explained, "You expand your lungs and bring lots of air into your blood and when it gets excited, your bones and muscles scurry to heat up and grow stronger!"

 "..Huh?" Was all I could say, my face twisted into a puzzled expression. Maybe it was the words she used to explain it, but I didn't understand the majority of what she said. And so, I asked her, "How can I do that?"

And she looked at me with that kind, angelic smile and told me in the nicest voice ever, "Train to death. At the end of the day, I don't think there's anything else you can do."

 I swung my sword over and over so hard until my arms and legs felt like they were going to fall off.. Until my lungs were ready to burst into flames, I did that for so long..but even then, I just couldn't beat Sabito.

 I would train hard under Makomo's gentle guidance until it felt like I was going to just kneel over and die on the spot, but he still always got the better of me. It was only until six months later, and six months after Y/n cut her boulder, when the snow coated every speck of grass and every wilting tree in sight..

I stood before Sabito once again. The sun was out, but you wouldn't be able to tell by looking due to the thick clouds that covered it and made snow fall in all ways and directions. The wind was icy against my dirtied skin—colder than when I first stood before him and the boulder—but I didn't flinch even when it blew so strong that my hair flailed it's grown out lengths wildly.

 When I challenged him that day, Sabito was wielding a real sword..

 "After six months, finally, you have the look of a man," I watched his movements as he gripped the scabbard and used his other hand to grab ahold of the hilt. The eerie sound of the steel sliding out didn't scare me and neither did the sight of his blade gleaming under the dim lighting as it was pulled out and pointed at me.

I had long pulled my sword from it's scabbard and gotten into my stance, my brows creasing downwards and scrunched into my dirt-covered skin, "Today's the day I win!"

 The head-on battle was simple. Who ever was stronger and faster wins.

My mouth opens as wide as a small crack—just wide enough for air to enter my mouth. Slowly, I breathe in. My chest steadily rises as my lungs swell with air. I then close my mouth, my grip tightening on the hilt of my katana..and dash forward at the same time Sabito does.

 The battle was over in an instant..

We immediately found ourselves closing the gap. Both of our swords were raised the entire time, and it was in that fraction of a second that I swung down with all my might..

 On that day, in that moment, for the first time, my blade reached Sabito first.

With a hollow clack, his mask split and fell on either side of him, suspended on the sides of his neck by that thick, red rope that was tied to it. His face..didn't match anything I had pictured originally. His eyes were a foggy purple and gentle like the falling snow around us. It contrasted that peach pink hair of his which barely covered the sides of his face so I saw that large, spiky scar that hiked up at an angle and covered the majority of his otherwise smooth skin. And his smile.. That smile that he gave me as his brows scrunched together..was so full of relief.

 That moment I won, Sabito smiled. It seemed like a sad smile to me at the time, but looking back on it, it seemed more proud and reassuring than somber..

 "Tanjiro.." I was so encaptured by him and that smile of his that it took Makomo's gentle voice to pull me back down to earth which, seemed much foggier than when I left it a mere moment ago. I find myself blinking, as if what I was seeing was an illusion or hallucination, but the thick fog never disappeared.

 "You did great," Her praise is what made me finally turn my head her way. Her body was steadily disappearing in the fog and I found myself looking on in silence, at a loss for words for what I was witnessing..

 The next thing I knew, Sabito and Makomo were gone..

 "Don't forget what you just did and win against them, okay? Beat that guy too," And she was gone, disappearing into the shrouding fog as if she was never there to begin with..

 ..And my sword, which I was sure had slashed Sabito's mask..

I turn my head back, but Sabito was gone too. Leaving me to gaze at the thick fog and watching as it slowly cleared away into nothing. Sabito and Makomo were still nowhere to be found, but that wasn't what made my eyes widen. What made my eyes grow wide like a bug's was the fact that I was gazing through a rocky opening  just narrow enough that only my blade could slip through.

 ..had sliced the boulder in half.

Y/n Kamado | *Arms crossed* So, you actually managed to do it..

Tanjiro Kamado | *Smiles with hands on his hips* Yeah! I was shocked, too! I never imagined I'd be able to cut a boulder like that! I couldn't have done it without Sabito and Makomo. I can't thank them enough.

Y/n Kamado | ..Who are they?

Tanjiro Kamado | *Speechless by his own slip up*

Y/n Kamado | ..Well? Who are—

Tanjiro Kamado | *Panicked* Uh- Now, It's time for a Taisho Era Secret!

Y/n Kamado | Wait, you haven't answered my—

Tanjiro Kamado | *Leans in and whispers* Why does Mr. Urokodaki wear a mask? I heard that's because demons used to make fun of him for looking too kind.

Y/n Kamado | *Visibly irked* Hey! Don't ignore me! Answer—!

Tanjiro Kamado | Everyone, we'll continue working hard to find a cure for Nezuko! And Ms. Ari, I hope that you make a full recovery soon!

Y/n Kamado | Who the hell is that? And who are you talking to—

Tanjiro Kamado | Next time, chapter four, "Final Selection"! Bye everyone! *Runs away*

Y/n Kamado | Tanjiro..! Get your ass back here and answer me! *Runs after him*

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Hi😊 i hope you're having a nice day!

Could i request a Larissa/21-22 Student reader(young teacher if you're not comfortable writing it with a student)fic with prompts 1 and 50 please? (Smut)

R have a big crush on Larissa. One night, she was walking past Larissa's room when she heard moans, she couln'd believe what she was hearing, she stopped and decided to take a peace of paper and write #50 on it with a 💋 with her lipstic (yea she's dumb like that), not writing her name and slip it under Larissa's door and ran back to her dorm. Larissa had no idea who could've wrote that and she was very embarassed that someone heard her..yk... The next day when Larissa walked past R in the hallway, she thought she saw a weird look in R's face and then she saw the lipstic, that lipstic, and it just clicked in her head. She always thought R was a bit of a tease with her but she never thought anything about it, but now.. Larissa decided to go to R's dorm, not knowing what she would do when she'll reach it. And what she heard throught that door, she thought that maybe she could pay R back for what R has done to her.😉 She openned the door slowly so R won't hear her and closed the door behind her, then she wispered #1. And then it would end up full of smuth, you can add as many kink as you want, even toys if you like, please?😊 (was this request too specific? I hope not😕)

Thank you if you decide to write it, i really love your fics and i really wanted to ask one too! And thank you even if you don't, for reading this!💋

A way too shy anon😅

i took some liberties with your request, i hope you don't mind! i made reader a 27yo phd student and it's a non-magical au! also..... i know i was probably expected to write a short, smutty thing, but before i knew it had a plot and it was 4000+ words whoopsie please don't hesitate to leave a comment on ao3, it makes my heart sing! <3

without further ado, enjoy some larissa x reader smut :) tags: car sex, mommy kink and idk how to tag adkjfshgd

You walk through the dark, empty corridor that leads to Professor Weems’ office. Most people have retired for the evening — it’s late, way too late for an official meeting, but given that lately you’ve been getting rather friendly, you hope she will excuse the informality. You know you will probably find her there, as she often works long into the night — and you really need her help with this chapter. The deadline for your PhD is rapidly approaching and you are still nowhere near done. 

She truly is a great mentor — always happy to meet with you and answer any questions you have, ready to spend hours going through your work and analysing materials you brought her. You somehow always end up spending a lot of time together — more often than not ending up in deep and heated discussions about various subjects (that sometimes relate to your work, and sometimes don’t) after you’ve finished discussing your thesis. You feel like you could talk to her the entire day without getting tired — she is remarkably intelligent, knowledgable on many subjects — her taste in art exquisite, and her takes are often unique. She always leaves you with several book recommendations (“Read this, darling, I am very curious what you will think about it,” she usually says and writes down a title or two, “read it when you find the time for it, of course — you have a thesis to write,” she winks — you somehow always find the time, sometimes sacrificing those few precious hours of sleep). 

Larissa Weems is also very, very attractive. She is an unusual looking woman — very tall, imposing, with platinum blonde hair and a peculiar fashion sense — she dresses like a movie star from the 1940s — but she is ridiculously charismatic, expressive, charming. Her laugh is contagious, her eyes bright and sparkling — you can’t be blamed for being absolutely enamoured with her.

You thought about asking her out once you get your PhD— age difference be damned. You are a 27 year old woman — you are free to do as you please. It’s just that, well — she is your mentor,  at least for now, and even if she wasn’t, she is just way out of your league. You don’t even know if she likes women, (probably not, knowing your luck) — and if she does, there is no way she would like you (even if you did have a very interesting discussion about sapphic undertones in The Marriage of Figaro — that scene between Susanna, Countess Rosina and Cherubino is rather… sexually charged — she seemed to share your opinion).

Lately, you feel your relationship has reached a deeper level — your meetings would almost always end in a nearby bar, where you’d relax with a glass of wine and continue your conversation late into the evening. Last time, she got slightly tipsy and became rather touchy-feely (she seems to be one of those people who are get very affectionate when drunk)— putting a hand on your shoulder, brushing against your leg under the table (then immediately apologising and pulling away), and when you got back to campus, she hugged you before parting ways. You can still recall very vividly how warm and soft she was and how she smelled faintly of sweet perfume and red wine. Since then you can’t stop imagining her touch — in very inappropriate ways. You try your hardest not to get too invested, though — she is your mentor, first and foremost. 

For all those reasons, you conclude she won’t be terribly upset at you if you barge into her office at this late hour. Worst case scenario, she tells you she’s too busy right now. 

You are just about to knock on her office door when something stops you dead in your tracks — a sound.

A moan.

You stand in front of the door. You hear nothing for a couple of seconds and almost knock again, certain you’ve imagined it (because why would anyone be moaning here at this hour?), but then you hear it once more.

It’s coming from her office. Is she with someone (your heart sinks at the thought, and you immediately scoff at yourself — as if you ever had a chance)? 

You know the appropriate thing would be to leave immediately, but something keeps you there, standing in front of the door, listening. 

The moans continue, and there is no doubt about it — that is her moaning, and there is no one else with her. It’s very clear what she is doing.

You should leave, but you stand there, frozen, listening. You don’t really want to go. 

Her moans sound heavenly — they send delicious jolts straight to your core. You can’t help but wish you were the one making her moan. 

Later, when you get back to your room, you don’t know what possessed you to do what you did. Might have been sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose, or lack of proper meals from days of working on your thesis non-stop, might be that she is the most attractive woman you have ever had the pleasure of knowing and her moans were just too much for your tired brain to handle — but you take a piece of paper out of your notebook and write a very inappropriate thing on it.

I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong — it's your moans.

You stare at the note for a couple of seconds. The moans coming from her office are getting louder — she must be getting close to… 

…your brain short-circuits at the thought.

Without thinking, you place a kiss on the piece of paper, leaving a coral-coloured lip-print on it. 

Inside her office, Professor Weems keens. 

You slip the paper underneath her door and run back to your room. 

You continue working through the night, falling asleep on your desk around 5am. You wake up at 8, and by then the whole episode feels like it might have been a fever dream.

You still need her help with the chapter, however, so you send her en email asking if she could squeeze you into her schedule today. You get an answer almost immediately.

I am terribly busy today, but I could see you during lunch break. We could eat out together and go over the chapter, if you’d like. Please send it to me beforehand so I can read through it and make notes! :-) 

Sent from my iPhone

(You find her boomer smileys very endearing.)

You try your best not to think about last night’s events. You are lucky she can’t recognise your handwriting, given that you always write everything on your laptop. 

You steal an hour of sleep, take a shower and put on some lipstick and mascara before leaving to meet her at cafeteria for lunch. If you’re lucky, you will succeed at pretending last night never happened.

You are not lucky.

You can’t stop staring at her mouth as she talks, as she chews her lunch, imagining all types of lewd sounds coming from it. It’s downright erotic, the way her lips move — no one should look that sexy chewing food.

“Darling? Are you with me?” she asks, making you snap out of your inappropriate daydream.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit spacey today,” you answer, embarrassed, wondering if she caught onto your staring.

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, darling?”

“Uhm… in the last three days, I think I got about ten hours combined.”

“You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know, but there’s just so much work to be done,” you sigh. “Is it supposed to be this hard to get your PhD?”

Professor Weems chuckles (the loveliest sound). “I’m sorry to inform you that it is — at least if you want to do it properly.”

“How was it for you? When you were getting your PhD, I mean? It’s hard for me to imagine you going around disheveled and sleep deprived. You always look so put together.”

“Ah, darling, it’s one of the perks of reaching a certain age — you can finally afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as sleeping six to eight hours a nigh. However, I absolutely did go around disheveled and sleep deprived. I was living off of caffeine and salted crackers — I was a rather pitiful sight. I’m glad I did it, but I’d never go back.”

“So you’re telling me life is easy in your forties?” you tease.

“I said easier, not easy. I do still get terribly stressed about things. I was rather stressed yesterday, as a matter of fact. I have so many things to do today, and I will be working late again.”

“And what do you do to relieve the stress?” you ask before you can stop yourself. You know very well what she did yesterday to relieve the stress.

“Oh, this and that. Usually I watch something that takes my mind off work.”

(“Porn?” you think.)

“I think we should get going though, darling — lunch break is almost over. Let me just fix my makeup,” she says and pulls her signature red lipstick and a compact mirror out of her bag. She fixes the edges of her lipstick expertly.

“Do you need to fix your lipstick, darling?” she asks, handling you the mirror.

“Oh, I might, actually. Thanks.”

Only when you’re done fixing your makeup and you hand the mirror back to her do you realise she has just watched you put on the same lipstick you used to leave a lip-print on that wildly inappropriate note you slipped under her door. 

You look at her, your stomach twisting with anxiety, searching for any sign of recognition on her face.

Her face is unreadable, but you wonder if she holds eye contact with you a little longer and a little more intensely than usual. You might just be imagining things, though — you are terribly sleep deprived.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, giving you a bright smile. “Shall we?”

The cafeteria door is a bit narrow, so you step back to let her pass first, but she puts a hand on your waist and gently pushes you past her. Your shoulder brushes against her as you do so. Being this close to her makes your heart beat faster and your limbs turn to jelly.

You look up at her (she is so tall). She’s smiling at you. It’s a bright, toothy smile that makes your insides melt and your brain become mush. 

“I will be working late tonight, so if you need any help you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“I can spare an hour for my favourite PhD student.”

“Your only PhD student.”

“You should just accept the compliment, darling.” She squeezes your shoulder and winks. “Good luck with your research. Try to squeeze in an afternoon nap. Ta-ta!”

She turns around and walks in the direction of her office, leaving you standing in front of the cafeteria like an idiot. As she walks away, you stare at way her hips move in the tight skirt pencil skirt she’s wearing. After a couple of seconds, you realise your mouth is open, so you quickly close it before anyone notices you are behaving like a horny teenager. 

You slowly drag yourself to your room. As you sit down and start going through the notes she gave you during lunch, your thoughts keep drifting to her ass in that pencil skirt. You sigh.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time evening comes, you are nowhere near finished with the chapter that was giving you grief yesterday. You know what needs to be done and you have finally found the right source to support your argument, but you have a hard time concentrating, and that makes you work in an excruciatingly slow manner. Your thoughts are scattered and you keep thinking about the deadline that looms over your head. Stress and sleep deprivation are truly starting getting to you (it also doesn’t help that your thoughts keeps drifting to Professor Weems and her tight pencil skirt). You wonder if you should take a quick power nap, but you are so caffeinated and anxious you doubt you could sleep if you tried, despite being exhausted, so you continue to push through.

It’s around 9pm that you hear a knock on your door. Before you can react in any way, the door opens and Professor Weems is standing in your room.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, darling. I just wanted to check how you’re doing before I retire for the evening.”

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I am nowhere near done with this chapter. I know what I need to do, it’s just that it’s going so painfully slowly.” You bury your head into your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being so whiny about this. I am just so stressed.”

Professor Weems approaches your desk and sits on it. Her thigh is just next to your head. You look up at her.

“Darling, you are working yourself too hard. I would tell you if I thought you are terribly behind with your research, but I honestly think you’ll make it. Don’t forget, I have to sign my name on your work — I would never lie to you about your progress to make you feel better — so trust me when I say you should let this go for tonight and come back to it when you’re less sleep-deprived.”

“But—”

“No buts. Come on, I am taking you out for a glass of wine. You should relax. It’s painful to watch you like this.”

You would never decline a glass of wine with Professor Weems, so before you know it you are sitting in that bar near campus having a glass of red wine (that turns into two and then into three glasses). The alcohol is getting to you, since you haven’t eaten that much today — you feel warm and fuzzy and slightly drunk.

Professor Weems seems to be getting tipsy as well, because she is getting very touchy with you again. She laughs at your stupid jokes (her laughter is one of your favourite things about her — loud and unabashed and melodious) and touches your shoulder often, sometimes letting her hand linger way longer than necessary. At some point in the evening her leg touches your own underneath the table.

She doesn’t move it, nor does she apologise. 

“You were right, Professor Weems, I did need this,” you say. “I’ve been feeling really out of it for the last couple of days.”

“Oh, I told you already, call me Larissa, darling. Professor Weems is so formal.”

“Are you big on formalities, Larissa?” you ask. You decide to try and push your luck — your confidence is not that high, but you are not an idiot. You are pretty certain she is flirting with you, unless you are completely delusional because of sleep deprivation. 

“Usually yes, but as you’ve probably already concluded by my taste in literature, I do think life would be terribly boring without letting the irrational, passionate streak in us win sometimes. As is the case in many literary classics — the plot simply couldn’t move forward without one of the characters disregarding propriety and doing something reckless and passionate.”

“I agree. I often wish I had the courage to do something like that in real life — my life would be so much more interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. I do think you have what it takes.” She gives you a big, bright smile. “Oh, wait a second, darling, your lipstick is smudged. Here, let me.”

She leans forward and takes your chin in her hand, then brushes along the corner of your lip with her thumb. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body hot with desire.

“That’s a lovely colour, darling. Coral suits you very well.”

She knows. She must know. 

She leans back into her seat. You decide to be bold.

“You know, I am still feeling a little bit tense. You said you like to watch something to relax — but I prefer more physical ways of relaxation. Do you have anything to recommend in that area?”

“Do give me an example, darling, what do you do to relax that’s physical?”

“Oh, I’m afraid what I do wouldn’t be appropriate to engage in at my workplace.”

There is a definite red tinge to Larissa’s cheeks.

“What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Very boring, I suppose.”

For a couple of seconds, there is silence. You are looking at each other, both of your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The tension in the air is thick and heavy.

The next thing she says takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect her to be that forward.

“Tell me, darling, did it turn you on when you heard me yesterday?”

“I—” you open and close your mouth like a fish. You can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth — to hear her say something like that is something straight out of a wet dream, something that would only happen in your wildest fantasies. 

“I usually do it to relax — it’s a purely physical thing, but lately I have found myself thinking about you,” she continues. “Tell me, do you think of mewhen you touch yourself?”

You look her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

You look at each other for a moment. Desire lingers in the air. She is first to break the silence. 

“Before this escalates any further, I want you to know that the last thing I’d want is to put you in a difficult situation or make you feel like you are obligated to do something. If you don’t want this, just say the word and we shall never mention it again.” 

She pauses. She seems nervous — you’ve never seen her nervous before.

“And please know that whatever you decide, it will not affect your thesis in any way. I would hate for you to be under the impression that this is transactional. I am genuinely interested in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, but I am ready to put that aside and prioritise our professional relationship if that is what you want.”

Your heart breaks as you decide to do the right thing.

“Maybe we should wait until I finish my thesis, and then… continue with this,” you say. “As much as I’d like to, it really wouldn’t be professional of us.”

“Of course. That would probably be best.”

She moves her leg under the table so that it’s no longer touching yours —- you can’t help but feel disappointed. There is a moment of awkward silence. She clears her throat. “We should probably go then, not let this escalate any further.”

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

The walk to campus is silent and awkward. 

“It’s rather late,” you say. “I do hope buses still drive. The night lines are scarce in this part of town.”

“Oh, I can drive you home, if you want,” she says quickly. “I didn’t offer because I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I mean, if you want to. We will have to spend time a lot of time together until I finish my thesis, we might as well practice not being awkward around each other. Not that I wasn’t awkward before,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “You always made me nervous.”

She chuckles and the air seems less heavy. “I didn’t know I was so scary.”

“You’re not,” you say, but you don’t elaborate further (what you want to say is you look like a movie star, you are intelligent and absolutely brilliant and I am nervous because I have a huge crush on you — but that would be inappropriate given the circumstances).

The drive to your apartment is silent. The tension that built in the bar didn’t dissipate into thin air when you decided not to act on it — instead it intensified — it lingers around, hot and heavy, clouding your judgement, making you sweat even though it’s a chilly night.

She parks in a free spot just in front of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry, I acted very unprofessionally,” she starts. “As your mentor, I should have ignored your advances, but instead I flirted with you and encouraged you.”

Her red lips move in the most delicious way as she speaks, and you find yourself staring again. You remember the sound of her moans. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“I feel terribly ashamed. I promise I will maintain a strictly professional demeanour from now o—”

You pull her into a bruising kiss. She squeaks (you find that adorable).

Pushing you away, she tries to be reasonable. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“What’s life without a little excitement? What a novel without the protagonist disregarding propriety and pushing the plot forward?”

“I—”

“Please, Larissa, I believe you when you say my thesis won’t be affected. We are both adults. We want this. Tell me, do you want me?”

She looks at you. Desire dances in her eyes.

“Yes.”

That is all you need. 

You kiss her again, then climb over to her seat, somehow managing to straddle her lap. She abruptly pushes the car seat backwards to give you more room — you gasp in surprise and she swallows your gasp with a hungry kiss.

The way she kisses you is passionate, ravenous, desperate. You grind against each other, your hands are everywhere, and her skirt is already bunched up around her hips (the sight of her soft, white thighs in garters drives you crazy). It’s hot, it’s dirty, and it’s not something you thought a put together woman like herself would ever be caught dead doing.

“I never imagined you’d enjoy a dirty car fuck, Larissa,” you whisper into her ear as she kisses your neck. She bites it and you gasp. 

“And I never imagined you’d be such a naughty slut, grinding your pussy against my thigh, but here we are.” 

She makes even something that cheap and filthy sound delicious. It shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, continuing to grind against her thigh.

“You like it when mommy calls you a dirty slut, hm?” 

She grabs your hair with one hand and slides the other one down into your trousers, feeling your drenched underwear. 

“Mmm, fuck,” is the only thing you can say.

“So wet and needy for me already, darling?” she coos at you. “Tell me, did you imagine me doing this to you as you touch yourself, hm? Fucking you with my fingers, fast and hard, like a common whore?”

She slides her hand inside your underwear and pushes a finger into you, then, when she feels how wet you are, two. You whimper. She curls them and you cry out. “Say I’m mommy’s little whore. I want to hear it.”

“I— I’m mommy’s little whore, fuck—”

She starts fucking you, fast and hard, and there are no coherent thoughts left in your mind. She is grunting and groaning with you — it make you delirious with desire. You want to make her moan like she did last night.

You somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to bury your own hand between her soft thighs and feel her wetness. She moans as you circle her clit and her fingers lose their rhythm for a second, which allows you to put together a coherent sentence.

“Like that, mommy?” you breathe out. “Did you imagine this when you touched yourself yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whines, “please, don’t stop.”

You have no intention of stopping. You continue to circle her clit even as she starts to fuck you harder. Her moans are obscene and loud and for a second you remember that any passerby could see you, and probably hear you, but you don’t care. If anything, that turns you on even more.

What sends you over the edge is her orgasm. Her body tenses up, her moans become hoarser and strangled, and a combination of swearwords and moans mixed with your name leave her lips as she tips over the edge of ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. She tries to fuck you through her own orgasm, but she doesn’t manage to keep the relentless, steady pace she had set before. It doesn’t matter — you grind on her hand and cry out as you ride out intense waves of pleasure that make your limbs tingle.

She gently pulls her fingers out of you. You stay still for a while, wrapped around each other, breathing heavily, your faces buried in each other’s necks. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you say after a while.

She nods against your shoulder. “It was.”

“Wanna do that again sometime… mommy?” you pull away, looking at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“If you call me that any time we aren’t fucking, I will end you.”

You laugh, and after a second she laughs as well. 

She is so pretty when she smiles — you love how those little lines around her eyes become more prominent.

“I should probably go, though. We are in the middle of the street and it’s like, 3am,” you say.

“Yes, you probably should.”

Before you go exit the car, you kiss goodnight. It’s the sweet and soft — it makes your heart flutter.

“Good night, darling,” she whispers as you get out of the car.

“Good night, Larissa,” you whisper as you watch her drive away.

As you brush your teeth, take a quick shower and get cozy in your bed, the only thing you can think about is Larissa. When you fall asleep, you dream of her sweet kisses. 

When you wake up in the morning, you feel well-rested for the first time in weeks.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Hi, could you write something about Sihtric rescuing a princess (Alfred's daughter) and they both falling in love for each other despite the princess is about to marry somebody else.

Princess

Pairing: Sihtric x reader

Authors note: I must admit this request is already for some time in my inbox. I really hope you are still here to read it, dear Anon. Besides that my real life is a bit demanding right now (I mean it positively), I hesitated to start writing as I thought there are already so many fics about this. But when I finally started, there was no stopping 😅.

Warnings: mention of death, violence, and murder, fluff, angst and, yeah, I got a bit horny at the end, so SMUT, 18+, loss of virginity, sad ending. I am sorry, lately I am not good at happy endings.

Word Count: 7,904

Part 2 Good wife

You were sitting by the window in your room, gazing out at the courtyard. The entire palace buzzed around reminding you a bustling anthill. It had been today as your father had announced your betrothal, and the wedding was swiftly arranged to take place within a week. Such haste was quite out of the ordinary, but there was a compelling reason behind it. Wessex was bracing itself for an impending war. Harald Bloodhair, the recently emerged Danish warlord, was gathering his forces near the borders. Each passing day new warriors were joining him, and his army already exceeded thousand men. Alfred was eager to confront him before his army grew even stronger, but he needed allies. Wessex alone couldn’t bring up the sheer number of skilled and trained warriors necessary for the confrontation.

Lord Ethelwold, one of the wealthiest nobles in East Anglia, had long harboured intentions of marriage with you, but Alfred had thus far deemed him an unsuitable match for his youngest daughter. Lord Ethelwold was notorious for his lack of restrain when it came to drinking and whoring. He was arrogant, reckless, and rude, but he was wealthy, and he had men. His household troops alone numbered around three hundred men, but he could rise much more by rallying his vassals. The shift in circumstances had prompted a swift change in your father’s stance. The decision about your betrothal to Lord Ethelwold had been taken without hesitation and the revelation of it reached you on the very day it was announced in the church—namely, today.

You heard a gentle cough from behind, and a familiar voice greeted you “Good evening, Lady.”

Startled from your reverie, you turned your head slowly and discovered Sihtric standing there.

“I apologize if I have disturbed you. I simply wanted to inform you that I shall be on watch this night,” the soft yet resolute tone of your guardian angel’s voice brought a faint smile appear on your lips.

Sihtric had assumed the role of your bodyguard for the past two months shortly after Alfred's spies had confirmed the lingering rumours—namely, that Bloodhair had dispatched a bunch of warriors to Winchester with a cunning plan to abduct a hostage from the royal family. That was when you had first encountered Sihtric, one of Lord Uhtred’s most trusted warriors and a Dane himself. He had been appointed to ensure your safety, along with several other warriors sent by their respective lords at Alfred’s demand to provide protection for all members of the royal family. It was impossible not to notice the tall, robust, and muscular warrior with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, scars tracing his forehead and right cheek and the intensity in his big, mismatched eyes created an indelible impression. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness and strength emanated from him. You caught yourself thinking that if your life were indeed under genuine threat, you would undoubtedly prefer him by your side. There was an undeniable aura of reassurance surrounding him as he bowed and extended his greeting in that gentle yet unwavering voice of his: “My, Lady, the honour is mine.”

From that day onward, you were consistently accompanied by at least one of the guards, and during the night a sentry always stood watch by your chamber’s door.

To say the least, you found little enjoyment in this new arrangement. It was a nuisance and an additional burden, further restricting your already circumscribed life as a princess. You were not allowed to move around freely anymore. The guards frequently denied your requests to visit certain places if they deemed this too dangerous. While it was undoubtedly much easier to ensure your safety within the secure walls of the palace, this had inadvertently made you a prisoner in your own home. To you the guards were simply your prison warders, with one strange exception – Sihtric.

The calm and composed Dane appeared to be the only one to understand how you felt practically locked up in the palace. You quickly noticed that the other guards and even the servants regarded him with suspicion, sometimes even with feud. However, it seemed not to bother the young warrior who did not let his demeanor falter at the strange and suspicious glances others were casting at him. You were curious beyond borders about him, particularly since you had never seen a Danish warrior before. Yet you couldn’t deny that he had somewhat intimidating effect on you, especially considering all the different tales you had heard about Danes and their heathen ways. You had expected him to be harsh, surly, perhaps ill-tempered, or even rude and insolent. Instead, you found yourself profoundly taken aback by his gentle, respectful and humble comportment in your presence.

It was Sihtric who willingly joined you on your journey to your cherished spot by the river, where you enjoyed reading while he patiently leaned against a tree, waiting. He didn’t object when you desired to gather flowers from the meadow, and what was even more important, he agreed when you asked him to accompany you to the small orphanage maintained by the Convent of St. Cuthbert’s Sisters. This was a place you used to visit quite often before. You went there to see the children, to read something to them, to play and sing with them. This was a part of your life you were absolutely unwilling to give up. The children's bright eyes would light up upon your arrival, and their fondness for you was evident as they clung to your dress and hands, eagerly awaiting the small toys you always brought or the captivating tales you told them. It was something that filled you with deep joy as you felt needed and loved.

All your other guards had staunchly opposed your visits. The narrow street leading to the orphanage was obscured by barrels, hay bales, and other stuff. It was hidden from the sight of the patrolling guards overseeing the marketplace and the entrance to the palace. It was a perfect place for an ambush, they had explained to you, when you tried to insist. Yet, you kept asking, hoping that someone would consent to your heartfelt request. Then it was finally Sihtric’s turn to accompany you from the church to the palace and you silently prayed that he would understand you as he had done already before.

“There’s an orphanage just around the corner behind the church. It would mean a great deal to me if you would accompany me there,” you asked with a slightly trembling voice as this was apparently your last chance.

“An orphanage? The Lady wishes to visit an orphanage?” Sihtric's gaze held a mixture of surprise and inquiry, his raised eyebrows signalling his astonishment at your request.

“Yes, please. Would you come with me?” there was something in your voice that drew Sihtric’s attention–the pleading tone, suggesting how important it was for you. Curiosity piqued him as he wondered why a princess would want to visit an orphanage, so he nodded and followed you to the narrow street.

You spent what felt like two or more hours there. The children's joy at your presence was palpable, and you couldn't bring yourself to depart earlier. You had brought two small wooden toys – a horse and a warrior and you played with the children and told them stories about how knights in shiny armour fought dragons and rescued princesses in the past days. They were dirty, their clothes nothing more than rags, but that did not stop you from embracing them and cradling the smallest among them on your lap.

You laughed with them and sang with them and when it was finally time to leave, tears shimmered in your eyes. The sisters were doing their best to provide the children with shelter and meal, but there was never enough silver for that. To ease their burden, you contributed as much as you could spare. One might assume that being a princess meant being rich, but in truth you did not have your own silver and needed to seek your father’s approval for any expenditure.

Throughout your visit, Sihtric leaned against the door frame, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that, at times, made you slightly uncomfortable. However, you were deeply grateful that he had granted you this moment of joy.

“That was very kind of you,” you thanked him as you both returned to the palace and ascended toward your quarters.

Sihtric raised an eyebrow, a touch of surprise in his gaze as he regarded you.

“You are the first among the guards who allowed me to go there,” you explained, “But I truly miss the children… and…” you hesitated unsure how to approach him with your next request, fearing he would reject it as too dangerous.

“Would you mind accompanying me to visit the children more often? You’ve seen them–you must understand…” you struggled to find the right words to explain the depth of your feelings, but you did not need to. Sihtric's gaze held an understanding that needed no words.

“Lady, I would be delighted to accompany you,” he nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. To your surprise he arranged for himself to be your companion on every Saturday and Sunday, attending the morning sermons and thereafter visiting the orphanage.

Following another Sunday morning sermon, Sihtric walked alongside you as you turned onto the narrow street behind the church. You should have known that something was wrong from the very first steps—the children's usually audible voices were conspicuously absent today, but even if you were oblivious of the threat, Sihtric instantly noticed the change. Without warning his hand took hold of yours, slowing down your pace.

“Lady, we need to turn back,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Why? No, Sihtric, we can’t, you know…” you couldn’t finish your saying as suddenly a figure sprang before you from the rooftop of a nearby building with an unsheathed sword in the hand. Sihtric instantly shielded you, pulling behind him.

The man raised his sword and lunged towards Sihtric with a loud shout, but Sihtric had already anticipated his move. Stepping aside, he evaded the strike, causing the man’s sword to go down meeting no resistance. The man stumbled slightly, but that was enough for Sihtric. Seizing the moment and using his loss of balance, Sihtric’s hand closed around the man’s throat, while his other hand swiftly drew his dagger, fastened to his back. In a heartbeat the man dropped to his knees, chocking, his both hands pressed at his throat in a futile attempt to stop the gushing blood. You screamed in fear, and, in the next moment, more men materialised from the shadows of the small houses. Sihtric positioned himself again protectively in front of you.

“Lady, please remain behind me, I will protect you. Don’t run, as I don’t know how many men might be waiting further down the street,” his voice exuded a calm certainty that was both reassuring and astonishing. To your surprise you felt your breathing steadying and the dread that had already almost completely consumed you receding.

The subsequent events remained a fragmented blur in your memory. The men lunged at Sihtric, their weapons drawn, stabbing, chopping, and shouting incomprehensibly. It seemed to you that the time has slowed down as you watched how Sihtric danced around them parrying their attacks, kicking at them with his heavy boots, throwing them to the ground and chopping at them with his battle axe. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Sihtric turned to you, his face, armour, and hands stained with blood, as he took a step closer, concern etched into his features.

"Lady, are you unharmed? Are you injured?Please, speak to me!" he inquired, but you just stood there immobilized, eyes widened in sheer horror, gazing upon the lifeless forms strewn upon the street, blood pooling around them. It seemed to you that there was blood everywhere. You shivered, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. An eerie chill coursed through your body, rendering you frozen, uncapable to move, consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread. You felt Sihtric grabbing your hand, and as you still did not show any reaction to him, his strong arms wrapped around your trembling shoulders, pulling you close to his chest.

“It is over now,” he murmured into your ear, his gentle voice nudging you back to reality, “You are safe, I promise, I will not let anything happen to you,” his soft voice slowly began to lift your paralysis, gradually rousing you from your frozen state. His rough fingers caressed your hair, anchoring you in the present moment.

“Look at me, lady! Please, look at me,” he cupped your face in his palms, lifting your head until your eyes connected, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks, and Sihtric’s embrace tightened, your face pressed against to his wide chest, as you started sobbing uncontrollably, your face buried in his armour.

“Hush, hush, my little princess, my love. Everything is going to be fine,” his words resonated in your consciousness, piercing through the fog of fear, and leaving a burning sensation in your mind as you tried to grasp their meaning. You don’t know for how long you were standing there before you finally regained control over your sobs and became fully aware of your surroundings. Sihtric still held you in his strong arms, soothingly stroking your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. Suddenly, a profound sense of safety enveloped you, and as your tear-streaked face turned to meet his gaze, a faint smile tugged at your lips before your legs gave way and you lost your consciousness.

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

It all had happened exactly two days ago. It is remarkable how swiftly everything can be turned upside down. A mere day ago, you were hilarious, brimming with joy and gratitude to the fate that had brought Sihtric into your life. You were sure that without him, you wouldn’t have survived the assault. Yet, now, as you sat by your window, observing the people busying around the yard below, you wished that the kidnappers had succeeded. Anything seemed better than the prospect of marrying Ethelwold, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Thank you, Sihtric,” you responded quietly and turned away in an attempt to hide your tears, but it was too late. Sihtric had already noticed you had been crying. His big, mismatched eyes filled with sympathy as he took a step closer.

“Lady, I regret deeply what happened. I’m sorry that you had to witness it. I assure you that you are safe now. I will not let anything happen to you,” Sihtric’s voice was filled with compassion and genuine care. His words were soft, laced with reassurance, and you found no reason to doubt him. After all, the young warrior had found a special place within your heart long before the dreadful incident.

Initially it was pure curiosity, that made you feel drawn to him, evolving into a genuine awe, that eventually grew into tender affection and sweet longing. The shift happened gradually as the thoughtful and quite warrior slowly opened to you, revealing different layers of his personality – the loyalty, the warmth, the kindness, all concealed behind the rugged exterior. The realisation of your own feelings for the handsome young Dane came even more slowly. You had never felt anything like this before and not to forget – you were a princess. Falling in love with a Dane, heathen and warrior, was out of question for you. But the longer you tried to deny your feelings, the stronger they grew with each passing day. Still, you successfully managed to suppress them until that dreadful assault in the narrow street. You did not know what unsettled you more – the close encounter with death or the emotional surge that overtook you as Sihtric’s strong arms enveloped you, pressing to his chest and caressing your hair. All you wished for was to prolong that moment indefinitely, to remain cradled within Sihtric’s embrace, melt into it, and let the world around you fade away. The realisation that most probably this will never happen again as you were going to be married in a week time, made your heart ache in almost physical, tangible pain.

“Oh, Sihtric, please! There’s truly no need for you to apologise. I am immensely grateful for what you did. It’s me who should be apologising to you for my foolishness, for doubting that the threat was real. If I hadn’t insisted on visiting the orphanage, if I had remained within the palace, none of this would have happened,” your voice was barely audible as you spoke.

You wanted to scream, to beg him to save you once again, to take you away from this palace and your wretched life as a princess and now even worse – as a peace cow to be married away to the most disgusting man you have ever seen. Yet, you remained silent as you knew that it was not in his power to free you from your destiny.

You continued to gaze out the window, ignoring Sihtric, who observed you with a perplexed expression. Something was certainly wrong; he just couldn’t figure out what it was. First seeing your sad and teared eyes, he thought you must be still startled by the events the day before. However, your composed response hinted him that something else had happened in between.

Initially, when Sihtric was assigned the role of a bodyguard for Alfred’s daughter, he was far from being pleased. He was a warrior and not a babysitter. Nonetheless, Uhtred insisted and Sihtric presented himself before Alfred, hoping that the king might reject him anyway. Much to his astonishment, that did not happen. Perhaps, Alfred deemed it prudent to have a Dane among the guards of his daughter, as it was reasonable to expect that the assaulters will probably be Danes as well. This however did not make the others trust or even like Sihtric. Not that this surprised him; he was used to that. What did surprise him was your non-judgemental attitude. He had expected you to despise him, even to hate him. After all, what else could he anticipate from a princess brought up in a place where everybody seemed to hate Danes. His awe knew no bounds when you greeted him on that very first day with a warm and genuine smile.

Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and nothing in your behaviour made him feel despised or unwanted. Quite the opposite. Swiftly, he found himself growing fond of you – his little princess, as he called you in his thoughts. You were cheerful, full of energy and treated everybody around you with equal warmth and kindness. Your liveliness was contagious, and Sihtric noticed how his mood inexplicably lifted in your presence. Your genuine interest in him, without a hint of suspicion or prejudice, touched a chord within him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and for the first time, he felt at ease sharing with someone fragments of his life. Your unpretentious and unburdened smile was the last thing that lingered in his mind before he drifted off to sleep each night. Sihtric thought you beautiful, not only in your physical appearance, but in the very essence of your being. Beautiful and utterly unreachable.

The first time Sihtric consciously noticed that his affection had evolved into something more profound and powerful was during your visit to the orphanage. Standing in the doorway, he leaned against the frame, watching you playing with the children. A profound and unexplainable warmth filled his heart, captivating him. His gaze remained locked on you, as if he were drinking in the aura of the love and tenderness that radiated from your being. In that moment, a realisation struck him that he would willingly do anything to witness your unbridled happiness. But even then, he managed to dismiss the feeling as being foolish, naïve, and impossible. Falling in love with a princess appeared to him as the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

The moment he knew he had utterly lost his inner struggle, when he could no longer deny the intensity of his love for you, occurred in the aftermath of that brief battle. The mere thought that you might be injured and hurt terrified him to the extent that all rationality left him. In that moment he completely forgot everything as he enfolded you in a protective embrace, drawing you close to his chest, cradling and soothing you. The memory of that moment remained etched in his mind. The sensation of oblivion enveloped him as he tenderly stroked your hair, breathed in your delicate aroma, and felt the velvety touch of your skin against his fingertips.

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

“Your services will no longer be required after one more week,” Sihtric was caught by surprise by the sudden announcement from the chief guard. “The lady is soon to be wed and will depart for her husband’s estate.”

“The lady is to be married?” Sihtric repeated in surprise as the news slowly sank into his consciousness. His “little princess” was getting married. He had always known his feelings were impossible, a sheer madness beyond comprehensible, he was fully aware of the unlikelihood of them being reciprocated. However, he hadn’t anticipated this fairy tale to end so swiftly and abruptly.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. It was meant to end anyway. Better sooner than later, before the last remnants of my common sense have faded away,” he thought to himself, clenching his fists tightly, his chuckles turning white under the strain.

The remaining week leading up to the wedding passed for Sihtric in somewhat like an indistinct haze. He found no opportunity to speak to you or even to see you. The walks by the riverside had ceased, no more flower-picking in the meadow, not even strolls within the garden. You remained within the palace, always surrounded by attendants, your mother – the queen herself – a constant presence at your side, willing to discuss every single detail of the upcoming wedding, be it the attire, jewellery, floral arrangements, or the feast. Oddly, Sihtric couldn't help but think that this was perhaps a blessing in disguise. What could he possibly say to you? Confess his imprudent feelings and elicit a pitying smile? That wasn't what he wanted. The only sensible thing to do was to maintain distance and to leave the palace as soon as possible, before his emotions would grow stronger, as they were already inflicting considerable pain.

Finally, all was settled. With Alfred’s consent Sihtric was set to depart on the morrow - the day before the wedding. In truth Sihtric was relieved, as he was glad, he would not have to watch the ceremony. His meager belongings were packed neatly in a saddlebag, resting upon a chair within his modest room at the tavern. He had not been given a room in the palace and had stayed at the tavern his lodging paid by the king. He was ready to retire for the night; his leather armour draped across a chair, his weapons arranged upon the table.  It was in this moment that an unexpected knock echoed through the room, startling Sihtric. He hesitated as he was not expecting anybody at such a late hour. The knock repeated, prompting him to pull the latch and swing the door open with an annoyed look on his face, only to be met by a silhouette hidden beneath a dark cape.

“What the hell…” he exclaimed in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching for his dagger on his back, only to discover it was not there this time, laying on the table amid his other weapons.   

“May I come in?” the voice emanating from beneath the cape sent Sihtric's heart racing. It was a voice both familiar and cherished, a voice he had believed he might never hear again.  Overwhelmed by disbelief, Sihtric took a step back, allowing the cloaked figure to enter his chamber, and then quietly closed the door behind.

“I heard you are departing,” the voice spoke with a hint of reproach, as two delicate hands took off the hood revealing the bearer of the voice, his “little princess”. To say that Sihtric was surprised would be an understatement. He stood frozen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as if attempting to dispel a dream, an impossible illusion conjured by his own fevered mind. Your eyes studied Sihtric, registering that he was shirtless and barefoot, clad only in his breeches. You swallowed hard as your eyes traced the contours of his bare chest. Awkwardness hung heavily in the air, a palpable silence enveloping the room as neither of you moved or uttered a word. Regret, like an unwelcome visitor, began to creep into your thoughts. What were you even doing here? A royal daughter, a princess of Wessex, standing alone in the presence of a half-dressed man – a Dane and a heathen, no less.

The sheer absurdity of the situation struck you, making you shiver in embarrassment under the cape.  

"I've been dismissed, my lady. With your father's approval, I am returning to Cochem," Sihtric finally broke the silence, his voice striving to remain casual, though it was almost impossible.

“You didn’t even wish to bid me farewell?” your eyes continued scanning Sihtric’s appearance, seeking something within his demeanour, a concealed sign, any trace that would hint to you, that your impulsive decision to come here might not be as foolish as your common sense suggested. Your gaze lingered on his arms, recalling how they had embraced you, before moving to his hands. You could almost feel the tender pressure of his fingers against your skin, his touch caressing your cheek. There had been an undeniable gentleness in his actions, a softness and affection woven into his words. Or had you just imagined it all? You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. There was no rational explanation for your presence here; you were merely making a complete fool of yourself.

“You were preoccupied with wedding preparations, my lady. And besides, who am I to encroach upon your precious time? I apologise if I have offended you; that was never my intent. I merely did not wish to bother you,” it took Sihtric all his inner strength to maintain his composure and stay calm. Yet there was something in his voice that caught your attention.

“No, no! No offence taken! It’s just… I wanted to express my gratitude once more for saving my life,” you stumbled over your words, your voice growing almost inaudible as you added, “And I won’t forget what you said to me afterward.” 

Sihtric raised his eyebrow, well aware of what he had said to you. He had been berating and cursing himself for his impulsive words ever since they left his lips. He had felt relieved as it seemed that you had been too shocked at that moment to register his words, but now it was evident that they had not gone unnoticed. Sihtric’s expression changed instantly, his gaze dropping to the floor in an attempt to escape the contact with your eyes, but not fast enough as you caught a glimpse of the mingled pain and humiliation shadowing his features.

“Lady, please believe me. I never intended to be disrespectful toward you,” Sihtric’s voice trembled with emotion as he continued to avoid direct eye contact with you, “Please forgive me if my words, spoken in a moment of deep concern for your safety, made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no! No, they didn’t. I just needed to … I wanted to ask if you truly meant what you said,” your heart raced within your chest as you took a hesitant step closer, reaching out to clasp Sihtric's hand, as though afraid he might vanish before providing the answer you so desperately sought.

“Lady, please don’t,” Sihtric’s voice wavered as he tried to withdraw his hand, a mixture of apprehension and longing in his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me say something, I’ll regret for the rest of my days, even if it’s true.”

“Sihtric, I am losing my mind all this week, thinking that it all was merely a cruel creation of my imagination,” your own audacity startled you. You were almost confessing your feelings to a near stranger, a man you hardly knew and would likely never see again.

“My little princess, my love,” Sihtric slowly repeated the words with a heavy sigh, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours, “I meant every single word, my lady. There’s no escape for me. Regardless of where I go or what happens to me, I will always love you,” the pain laced in Sihtric’s voice was palpable. He loved you, knowing that there was no future for you both. Worlds separated you – a Saxon princess destined to wed an East Anglian nobleman, and him - an outsider, a despised Dane, a heathen, and a warrior with nothing to offer apart from life in perpetual danger and suspense. Despite it all, he found himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from you. Unconsciously, his fingers entwined with yours as you still hadn’t let go of his hand, and his forehead drew near slowly touching yours.

The world spun around you, the weight of Sihtric’s words finally sinking in, a burning sensation coursing through you, just like the first time you heard them. He loved you. It was neither a dream, not a cruel gameplay of your overheated mind. He loved you. In this very moment it was all that mattered. Those few words had changed your entire universe.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in and pressed your lips to Sihtric's. The kiss was tentative, your inexperience evident in the gentle brush of your lips against his, but it made all the last remnants of common-sense crumble in Sihtric’s mind as he responded with a fervour of a starving man savouring a long-awaited feast. His lips and tongue melded with yours, an intoxicating dance of desire and need. Sihtric’s kiss was soft, yet demanding, his lips brushing, sucking, and gently biting yours with ravenous eagerness and passion, leaving you breathless. Your head was spinning, and dizziness enveloped you as you yielded to his passion. You closed your eyes and your lips parted in a soft moan against his mouth. Sihtric's tongue slipped into your mouth, a hungry exploration that set your heart racing. His hands found your waist, drawing you closer, the heat of his touch searing through your skin. The kiss was an inferno of love, warmth, and raw emotion that left you gasping for air, lost in a realm of sensation you had never experienced before, and you wished for it to continue indefinitely.

Reality crashed upon Sihtric like a tidal wave, jolting him from the whirlwind of desire. With an abrupt motion, he broke the kiss, pulling away from you. His hand cupped your chin, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to regain his composure.

“Princess, this is madness,” his voice trembled, his eyes shut, his breath ragged. “Please, don’t do this to me. Do not awaken hope when there is none. You must leave, now, before your absence is discovered.”

Your gaze remained locked on him, your heart pounding, unable to say anything or even gather your thoughts from the intensity of emotions that swirled through you. Slowly, you reached out, your hand grazing his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his skin. Being this close to him made you shiver.

“I can’t…, I don’t want to,” you whispered, your voice a delicate plea. “Sihtric, please… This is my last night of my already so limited freedom, and I want to spend it with you. I want you to be the first man to touch me, to make love to me. Please, don’t reject me.”

There it was, laid bare before him, the true reason you had come, the decision you had made, dismissed and taken again during the last sleepless nights until it had transformed in firm resolve.

Your life had always been predetermined and dictated by obligations and duty; your choices limited by being a king’s daughter. You had accepted that. You knew that the alliance with Lord Ethelwold was necessary for Wessex to stand up against the Danes and you were indeed willing to bring that sacrifice by marrying him. However, there was one decision in your life that you were not willing to allow to be taken from you. And that was the reason you had come, driven by a fervent hope that the man you had irrevocably fallen in love with might feel the same way.

Slowly you untied your cape and let it drop to the floor, your gaze locked with Sihtric’s. His pupils grew wider, and his breath fastened as you placed your hands on his bare chest, letting your fingers travel down to his stomach in a tender brush. You hesitated a moment when your fingers reached his waist and the hem of his breaches and Sihtric quickly seized your hands and raised them to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on your palms.

“Princess, please, stop before it’s too late,” Sihtric leaned in closer and buried his face in your neck breathing in your scent, his fingers intertwining with yours “I am flattered, I truly am. But you don’t understand what you are asking from me.” Sihtric closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on your neck and then another one on your jaw, feeling painfully strained in his breeches. He desired you, no, he craved for you beyond imaginable. Your smell, your breath against his skin, your soft lips, and the feel of your body so close to him and yet so unreachable and forbidden drew him to madness. His mind told him to step back, to let go of you, but he couldn’t. With all his willpower he tried to suppress the urge to kiss you again, knowing that if he did, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself anymore.

“I am asking you to save me from misery and grant me the freedom of choice. I want to feel love and desire, even if that’s only for one single night. My future husband is far away from being a fairy tale prince. Can you imagine what will be my first night with him? I can, I am not that naïve as you think of me, Sihtric,” you pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, making Sihtric groan loudly, lust and desire consuming him.

Sihtric’s lips found yours and crushed against them with the same unsatiable hunger as before, setting your mind on fire. His hands moved down to your waist, holding you firmly pressed against his muscular body, and you were melting in his strong embrace, feeling a shiver going down your spine and your legs getting week and wobbly. He made a step forward pressing you against the door, his lips traveling down to your jaw and then further to you neck, placing greedy wet open-mouthed kisses on their way, while his hands started tugging the laces of your dress with fumbling fingers. You couldn’t help but smile in anticipation as you helped him to untie and unlace everything until the dress slid down your shoulders and dropped to the ground, revealing your naked upper body, and leaving you only with your ruffled silk underpants. Sihtric’s eyes studied your body for a moment, drinking in all the small details, lines, and curves and then his lips were back on your neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, placing soft gentle kisses down to your breasts, licking and sucking gently at your hard aroused nipples. A strange burning sensation settled in your lower body and slowly consumed you, blurring your mind and vision, making you whine in pleasure your fingers trailing Sihtric’s back.    

“Princess, are you sure, you want this?” Sihtric’s hoarse voice reached through your dizzied mind. You wanted to say something, but not a sound came out of your dry throat, overpowered by the overwhelming sensation of Sihtric’s touch on your body you just moaned tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Say it! I need to hear it,” Sihtric demanded, whispering in your ear as his hands slowly trailed down to your waist and started untangling the lace that was holding your underpants.

“Yes, I want it. I need it. I want you,” you finally managed to form the words, tugging harder at his hair. Your answer sounded like a desperate plea. You were already flying from the touch of his lips and hands on your body and were eager for more. You wanted him. You burned for him. You loved him and trusted him. A lustful smile curled on your lips, hearing Sihtric groan as he kneeled before you, pulling down your legs the last remaining peace of clothe covering you and revealing you completely naked before him.

“My princess, my sweet little princess, you are so breath-taking beautiful. This must be a dream, but I don’t want to wake from it,” he murmured against your skin pressing his nose to your cunt, breathing in your smell, and placing a soft kiss on it. Waves of heat washed all over your body. You had never felt anything comparable to this before.

Sihtric rose to his feet and lifted you in his strong arms with no effort at all. He cradled you to his chest and carried to his bed, placing you gently down and positioning himself beside you, his hand touching your cheek and turning your head to face him.

“If you change your mind, princess, if you want me to stop, just say it. You can stop me anytime. This is all about you tonight. You are in charge, don’t forget it,” Sihtric said quietly, but seriously. “Do you understand? Tell me!” he insisted, locking his gaze with yours.

“Yes, I do. I trust you,” you whispered back, cupping his face with both hands and leaning closer to kiss him. You started by moving your lips gently along his and in the very moment Sihtric’s lips parted as he answered your kiss, your tongue slid into his mouth. Eager to show him what a good learner you are, you licked hungrily into his mouth, your tongue finding his, curling around it, sucking at it, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Sihtric kissed you back with the same passion, setting the world around you in spiralling motion again. He broke the kiss, earning a disappointing whimper from you, a lustful smile on his lips.

“I want to show you something, my love,” he purred in your ear, moving his body over yours, parting your legs and positioning himself between your thighs. His mouth started travelling down your neck to your breasts and further down to your stomach, placing soft kisses all over your body on its way. He did not stop there, his body moved further down between your legs, his mouth continuing to place soft kisses on its way now reaching your inner thigh. You stiffened from the unfamiliar sensation that filled you.

“Relax, my little princess. You will enjoy it, believe me,” Sihtric murmured, his lips moving closer and closer to your core until his wet tongue slid over your clit, licking further through you folds. You moaned heavily, digging your nails in the bedsheets, grabbing them with full force and arching your back off the mattress in obscene pleasure, as Sihtric continued devouring you, his tongue circling your clit, licking and sucking it. His soft moans against your core let you know he was enjoying it as much as you did. Your hips started to move frantically, uncontrollably against his tongue, your climax building up quickly and just as you thought there can’t be any rise in the pleasure washing over you, you felt Sihtric pushing a finger inside you.

“Oh my God!” you whimpered.

“Does it feel good, my princess?” Sihtric murmured.

“God! Sihtric! It feels divine,” you cried out as he continued to move his finger in and out of you, his tongue never leaving your clit. It was the last bit you needed to reach your peak. It washed over you in an overwhelming wave, making you cry out Sihtric’s name, pure bliss pulsing through your veins. Sihtric’s hands took hold of your hips, holding you steady in the place, his tongue continuing licking and sucking at your already over sensitive pearl. You wanted to escape him, to move away from his tongue, but he did not let you, holding you firmly until you surrendered yourself to him feeling another wave of pleasure building up and washing over you even more intense as the first one.

“Common, little princess, you can make it one more time for me. You can be loud. Don’t be afraid. I adore those wonderful sounds you make,” Sihtric hummed, pushing two fingers deep inside you and continuing to fuck you slowly with his fingers his mouth never letting go of your pussy. And you came again against his tongue and fingers, with your lips parted as you screamed out your pleasure.

“I think you are ready now. I am so sorry. It might hurt, my love, but I will be gentle,” Sihtric breathed in your ear, undoing his breeches, releasing at last his stone hard cock and placing it at your entrance.

“Princess, do you want me to?” he asked.

“Yes, Sihtric! Yes! I want to. Please, take me,” you begged. Receiving your permission Sihtric started to push slowly inside you, his thumb circling your clit. It hurt, he was so big, stretching you painfully. You buried your fingers in the bedsheets, trying to hide the pain, not wanting him to notice, but a pained whimper escaped your lips. Sihtric stopped immediately.

“Do you want me to stop? Princess, look at me! Just tell me to stop, and I will,” his voice so full of genuine concern made you want him even more. You craved for him and wanted to pleasure him just as he did it for you just before. You shook your head.

“No, I want you. Just give me a moment to adjust,” you pleaded and Sihtric leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

“I love you, my little princess. I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that,” he whispered, as his lips descended on your nipples, sucking gentle at them, and setting you on fire again.

“Sihtric, take me! Don’t hold back. I need you! You are the best, that could ever happen to me,” you murmured, placing your hands on his hips and trying to pull him towards you.

Sihtric resumed his movement pushing further inside you and you screamed out shortly as you felt him forcing into you until the very end of his length, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Husch, my love. That’s it, you have me,” Sihtric whispered kissing away your tears as you felt something warm dripping down your thigh. Before you even managed to register what had happened, he pulled out and pushed slowly back again into you, and then again and again, his pace slow and gentle in the beginning, but fastening with every thrust, transforming still lingering pain into absolute, indescribable pleasure as his length stretched and filled you, making you mewl and whine under the movements of his hips against yours. Your nails were digging into Sihtric’s back as you tried to hold onto him, and your hips started to move against his making him thrust even deeper into you.

“You take me so good,” Sihtric groaned, continuing his movements, his breath getting faster, “You are perfect, just made for me and I love you so much!” he murmured softly against your mouth, kissing you jerky.

“Oh my God, Sihtric! It feels so good! You feel so good!” you breathed out, wanting to praise him, to let him know how good he was to you, your breath getting faster and shallower with each trust, your obscure moans filling the room and mingling with Sihtric’s grunts.

“Cum for me, little princess. I want you to cum on my cock, screaming my name.” Sihtric hissed, locking his gaze with yours, “Let yourself fly! I am holding you,” his hips kept rutting against yours, his breath heavy and unsteady, being close to his own high. He wetted his thumb with his tongue and moved it to your clit, rubbing it gently and with that last touch he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm, the fourth and the most intense in this night, hit you like a heavy storm. You felt your inner walls clench around Sihtric’s cock as the waves of pleasure and relief washed over you, making your body shake and tremble against his as you came moaning loudly, arching your back and crying out his name in pure bliss. Sihtric continued to fuck you slowly through your orgasm, letting you savour each and every wave of pleasure, his eyes drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath him.

“You are so good to me. I am so close, my love,” he whispered, “I will not cum inside you if you do not want to,” he whispered his nose nuzzling at your neck.

“Sihtric! My love! I want you, all of you, everything of you,” you moaned grabbing his hips and pushing yourself against him. This was all he needed, a few more thrusts and he came instantly with a loud growl, spilling himself deep inside you, pressing you into the mattress with his weight as he collapsed over you, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. You stayed so for a while, your arms around him, your fingers brushing through his hair, his lips placing soft kisses on you neck and shoulder. With a heavy sigh Sihtric pulled out and laid beside you, his arms still around your waist, pulling you closer to him, cradling you in the crook of his body.

“Stay with me,” he purred into your ear, his voice dripping with longing “I know this is madness, princess. This entire night is a whirlwind of madness.”

“Sihtric, I can’t,” you replied, your voice a fragile whisper. “I love you, and that will never change. But I can’t. My father… Wessex … we need that alliance,” your heart ached at these words.

“I love you too, my little princess,” Sihtric’s voice was hoarse. “There will never be another in my life. I am all yours, and I will be waiting for you,” the seriousness and confidence in Sihtric’s voice made you shiver. You turned to face him, your lips trembling as they met his in a tender kiss.

“I can’t ask that from you,” you whispered, cupping his cheek.

“That’s not just a promise; it’s a certainty, my love,” Sihtric's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. “I will wait for you, and whether in this life or the next, you will be mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you rested against his strong chest, feeling the truth of his words echoing in your mind.

Part 2 Good wife

[evans23]

Daughter of mine

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : When a mere acquaintance of Judge Turpin announced to him that he had a daughter, The Death's Judge is flabbergasted.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Abandonment. Neglectful mother. Mention of prostitution.

A/N: Hello dear 😁 I wanted to try something else with Turpin. Hope you'll like it. No proofreading because I am lazy 🫠😅

Part II

Also read on AO3

Richard was walking briskly through the court corridors, a bunch of papers under his arm, his wig still on his head.

"Richard ! Richard !" he heard shouting behind him.

The sound of the irritating voice makes him walk faster. The Beadle wasn't here, having got a leave of absence for personal matters. 

Personal matters... harlot matters, thought Richard, chewing the inside of his cheek while his pursuer continued to call him. Due to the absence of his minion, he will have to talk to this clodhopper of a lawyer. He knew who it was just by earring the far too sharp voice of this incompetent. Matthew was his name and he was an abomination, bringing opprobrium to his respectable profession. 

"Richard !"

Turpin halted at once and turned towards Matthew with a severe look, one that only the Judge Turpin has the secret of.

"Yes Matthew," he hissed, ready to tear out the eyes of the poor man running behind him with a little spoon. 

"Richard !" said again Matthew when he eventually reached the Judge.

If he said my name one more time, I would judge him for anything suitable would come to the mind of The Beadle, thought fiercely Richard.

"Yes ?" said Richard frowning his eyebrows with disgust at the view of the reddened pudgy face of his non-beloved colleague.

"I need to talk with you. An urgent matter."

"No more case today, I adjourned the court, I have some important business to attend to."

Without waiting for an answer, Richard began to walk again but Matthew held him back by grabbing his sleeves.

It asked Richard all his masterfulness not to slap the poor lad in the face. After all, he was a respected judge, always controlling his emotions. He was the fucking Death's Judge fucking Turpin, he thought vehemently. 

"Richard, believe me, you want to hear it." told the little man, totally oblivious to the anger which was boiling into Richard.

"Well, what is the matter ?"

"Not here. It is too personal. Come to my office."

"No, mine !"

His command doesn't leave any room for an objection from Matthew but the joyful man wasn't offended at all by the behavior of Turpin. After all, his reputation preceded him and the young lawyer wasn't easily deterred from his optimistic good mood.

"Well, I listen really attentively to you," said Richard once he had closed the door of his office. 

He sat gracefully on his chair, denying the right to do the same to Matthew by not inviting him to do so. 

"Richard, I don't know how to say that," began the lawyer taking a seat anyway.

Turpin sighed inwardly, more than annoyed. Yes, definitely, this young fella was in to lose his eyes.

"With simple, short words and in a very economical way. No more than three or four words," said Richard without an ounce of sarcasm.

He wanted to go home and read the new book he had made come from India. 

"You have a daughter," said straightforwardly Matthew.

If Richard was caught off guard, he didn't show any signs of it. 

"I beg your pardon ?"

He didn't know if he should laugh or keep his straight face while threatening the man in front of him with an upcoming hanging. His hanging !

A bit taken aback by his bluntness, a thing he didn't know he was able to, the lawyer fidgeted on his chair for the biggest displeasure of Richard.

"Boy, I don't have the day. If you have something to say talk, otherwise leave me alone !" thundered his voice.

"Richard. I am serious. I have been called last week to acknowledge the will of a dying woman in a poor house in the outskirts of London. The woman claimed that her daughter is yours."

"Well, if a dying woman has claimed that her bastard is mine, then it is certainly true," he responded sharply, "are you really as daft as you come across when one's meet you the first time ? Even though you come across to me as stupid and incapable each time I have to process a file in which you are working. You are nothing of a lawyer," he chided severely, his nostrils almost spitting fire.

“Yeah, actually I was forced by my father to follow his steps, however, I wanted to be an art…”

“Matthew !” Cut off Turpin, his anger threatening to erupt any time soon.

“Yes, sorry,” answered the poor man, putting himself together before going on. 

“Well, the lady, plagued with a terminal disease, asked me to draw up a will. She didn’t owe much but the few jewels have been entrusted to me to be handed out to her daughter in due time. She was afraid to have it stolen by the nurses after she would have passed away.”

He stopped, waiting for any reaction from Richard which comes with a gruff comment. 

“I don’t care about the pieces of jewellery. Who was the so-called lady and what about her bastard, who she claimed to be from my seed.”

“Yes, yes, to the point Matthew,” tried to brace himself the lawyer who began to flicker under the unyielding piercing eyes of Turpin, “her name was Elena.”

Turpin went pale. It was a long time since he had heard this name. Seven years, almost eight to be precise. He couldn’t deny having known this girl as he had almost married her. But it was another story. A sad one.

After having lost the only one he has ever considered as his soulmate, he had set his sight on a girl named Lucy, the barber’s wife of the poorest quarter of the town. He was desperate to forget Elena and he thought getting that pretty little thing would help him to get rid of his sorrow. 

As a matter of course, the barber’s wife didn’t accord him even a glance and, mad with rage and grief, he had almost perjured his honourable position as a Judge by charging his husband with a false crime on the purpose of sending him away in a barren land called Australia, but he came back to his senses just in time, releasing the barber and swearing to himself to never ever falling in love. Women were nothing else but suffering and betrayal. 

“Elena,” repeated unconsciously Richard.

“Yes, Elena Bryant. She must have been a really beautiful lady when she was at her best because I could notice the beauty of her fine features even with the illness making her face break out.”

“Yes, a real beauty, indeed,” whispered Turpin.

“Her daughter is nothing short of a beauty herself. A real little doll.”

Turpin shook his head, retrieving his mind.

“My acquaintance with this girl doesn’t mean I am the father of her undesirable burden. And believe me, this woman was nothing of a lady. She came from a poor family with no proper upbringing. It was a miracle that she could read and her writing was as awkward as the one of a young kid.”

“Yeah, well, apparently she wasn’t too dull because she taught her daughter to read. She is a lively child, intelligent and so on. She has been sent to an orphanage nearby here.”

The lawyer stopped, gauging Turpin who stayed totally indifferent or at least he guises himself to look as if, yet inwardly his mind was racing.

“How old ?” He suddenly asked.

“What ?” asked Matthew, puzzled.

“How old is the girl, Matthew my patience lay thin !” said Turpin with a thunderous tone.

“Oh, six years. Almost seven. Quite soon, actually.”

Richard could have fainted with how his head was spinning. Six years, almost seven. Was it possible ?

“Her name is Catherine.”

Turpin grabbed the edge of his desk with so much force that is knuckles turned white. Catherine. He had told Elena once that should he have a little girl, he would like her name to be Catherine like his late and beloved grandmother, the only person in his life to have shown him genuine affection and taught him what love was, at least until Elena. 

“And what will be the destiny of the little bast… of the little girl ?” asked Turpin between clenched teeth.

“The mother would like you to have her custody. After all, according to her, you are the father.” 

It remains unproven, thought bitterly Turpin. After all, after having left him, she went from one man to another, living a depraved life, selling her body to earn a living. Richard knew it as a fact after having had a glimpse at her beloved Elena while he frequented a well-known brothel. The sight of her disgusted him through his bones and he had to keep his nerves under check not to drag her outside by her hair and require an explanation for her awful betrayal. He had reasoned himself, reasoning his injured soul that doing that would give the girl too much importance. An importance she didn’t deserve even less now than she wasn’t more than a disgusting whore. 

The daughter could be from any moron but him. Yet, now was ingrained in his mind a slight doubt. 

“What should I do ? For the little girl ?” asked Matthew.

Richard thought for a long time before answering that The Beadle would take care of it. Matthews acquiesced, uncertain if he was satisfied with Turpin’s answer, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, leaving the Judge’s office with a nod.

The next day, The Beadle was assigned the task to find the girl and… well, make a report. Turpin didn’t want to spread out the rumour he could have a bastard in the nature and even if The Beadle had his trust, he preferred to wait before taking action.

“Sir,” echoed The Beadle’s voice.

Startled while he was deeply lost in his work, Turpin acknowledged his presence with a nod and a frown eyebrow.

“I have seen the little girl,” he said carefully.

“And ?” growled Turpin.

He was almost expecting The Beadle to tell him she was his spitting portrait, that even if he didn’t know why he had to meet that child he had immediately understood when he saw her. Unfortunately, his answer was quite disappointing.

“She is very short for her age but she has a pretty face. A little doll, a future beauty,” said The Beadle with a glint of envy in his eyes.

The Judge felt the urge to threaten his assistant to put him under arrest for talking like that of a little girl but he retained himself, instead, he asked him to tell him more.

“She is a polite little darling, not really interesting due to an obvious lack of education.”

The Judge nodded, not quite satisfied with the report of The Beadle.

“My lord, may I enquire why this little girl has caught your eyes ?” asked honeydly the rat-face man.

“No,” was the cold answer of The Judge.

What was the matter of having an assistant if he had to do the work himself ? He thought angrily. Yet, after all, one was better served by himself than by someone else.

And so, the next morning, his carriage hit the road for the orphanage. The venue was a gloomy old building almost in ruins. The roof was leaking, the windows let the wind go through the immeuble and the floor was dirty. 

The headmaster of the orphanage, a hunchbacked old woman with a severe face, which could have matched Turpin’s straight face, wasn’t agreeable at all but when she recognised The Judge, she became nothing more than kindness and bowing. Unimpressed, Turpin asked for Catherine. 

While walking along the corridors, he noticed the famished children, filthy and wearing rags. The old woman stopped in front of an almost unhinged door.

“The girl is here. Doesn’t speak a lot. In need of a good beating if you want my opinion.”

“No, I don’t,” answered Turpin without paying more attention to the headmaster.

The Judge knocked at the door then, as no answer was coming, he entered. Sitting on the bed with what looks like a stuffed wolf in her arms. His stuffed wolf ! The one he had as a child and he had offered to Elena at the beginning of their relationship for the girl having him at her side every night. 

“May I sit next to you ?” asked Turpin to the girl who hadn’t looked at him yet.

She nodded, keeping her head low and didn’t even moved one toe when Turpin took place beside her.

The tiny room, which was more a cupboard than anything else, was as filthy as the rest of the orphanage. The sheets were filthy. Probably they haven’t seen water for ages, thought Turpin.

“What is your name, girl ?” asked Turpin even though he already knew the answer.

“Catherine,” whispered shyly the girl.

“Quite a pretty name.”

If she had heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it. Apparently, being silent was her biggest skill.

“I have been told that you were a well-behaved lady but let me tell you that a lady looks her interlocutor in the eyes when she is talked to.”

And for the first time, she tilted her head up, her awfully beautiful green eyes meeting The Judge’s. And he knew. 

Richard had thought he would know if the girl was his only if she had a bit of him etched in her face. The truth was she wasn’t looking after him at all. No hooked nose, hazel eyes or even blond hair. No, she had the black curls of her mother, the small button nose of her mother, the magnificent features of her mother and the eyes, the incredible, beautiful, unforgettable beautiful eyes of his Elena. Definitely, she didn’t look like any Turpin he knew, but deep inside him, deep into his heart, he knew. The girl was his.

He left the room without a word, asking his coachman to go to the courthouse fetching Matthew and at the end of the afternoon, the girl was officially under his protection. 

She wasn’t very talkative but the truth was that she was rather impressed by the charismatic presence of The Judge. On the other hand, Richard didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to talking with a child even if the said child was his and he shouldn’t feel nervous around her. 

However, he wasn’t sure if he was in front of an innocent child. Her mother sold her body, what her daughter could have seen ? But he had something worse rattling his mind. Does Elena could have committed the sin of selling her owndaughter ? Richard didn’t know how to broach such a topic without shoking the child, even less should the girl be utterly oblivious of her mother's profession.

“Where are we going ?” asked a little voice, interrupting his running mind.

Sitting on the bench in front of him in the cramped carriage which was bringing them back to Richard’s house.

“Turpin’ Manor.”

“You live in a Manor ?” asked Catherine, whereas she was trying with all her will to not sound too excited.

“Yes, dear. And you too now,” answered Turpin with an amused look on his face. “You are going to live a very different life now. You will get a proper education, food thrice a day, a warm, clean bed, proper clothes for a little lady in your position and a name. Believe me, you will want nothing in your life from now on.”

He could see the flabbergasted expression on the girl’s face at the mention of a warm bed and food put every day on the table. Unable to hold it anymore, he asked the question that was burning his lips the more diplomatically he could.

“What did your mother do to earn money ?”

Catherine shrugged indifferently.

“When a lady is asking a question, she must at least acknowledge her interlocutor and at best give him an answer,” he scolded gently, yet with a growling tone. 

“She was a waitress,” answered the child without looking at him. 

“A waitress ?” repeated Richard.

“She worked at night for a rest… rest… I am not sure of the pronunciation,” confessed Catherine, fixing her gaze on his.

“A restaurant ?” suggested Richard.

She nodded while hugging tighter her little wolf.

“And who was looking after you ?”

“No one,” whispered the girl, her eyes filling with tears. “I was alone every night from 6 in the afternoon until 8 in the morning,” she added, crying now.

“Hush, hush, no need to cry child,” said Turpin, holding out his large hand to squeeze awkwardly the small and almost fragile one of Catherine.

“Why are you crying now ?”

“It was frightening, being alone every night. I hate being in the dark but mom couldn’t afford us to let a candle burn all night.”

Turpin’s face softened. Catherine was so mature and skilful in her way of speaking that he had almost forgotten she was only 6, almost 7. 

“Well, you will have all the light you need during the night. No one will mind. Stop crying now.”

“You promise ?” asked the girl with bright eyes.

“Yes, I promise. A servant will kindle all the light you need in your room to sleep well far before your bedtime,” said Turpin, trying to mask his irritation. 

The happiness of the child for such a little promise made his previous irritation fade away and he could almost feel his heart melt at the view of a so genuine gratefulness.

“And… did your mom have a husband ?”

He swallowed his saliva with difficulty, hoping to have a definitive answer about the innocence of his… of Catherine.

“No. I have never seen a man in our house. Mommy told me she would never bring a man in our house because her heart was broken and she couldn’t love anybody else but me.”

“So never had a man lay his hand on you ?”

“No. Mommy would have killed anybody who would have hit me.”

Richard let out a sight he didn’t know he was retaining. So, Elena had at least succeeded in protecting the child from the depravation of the world. Of her world.

“And I would never let anyone hurt you in any way,” said Richard, the promise of a terrible fate for the one who would dare to just stare at the little girl.

When the carriage stopped, Richard stepped out before helping Catherine to go out. He held her without difficulty in his arms to put her on the ground. She was far too skinny, thought Richard. She weighed nothing in his arms and he had felt her bones protruding through the meagre fabric of her dress. Something that wouldn’t last now that she was living at Turpin’ Manor. She would be fed properly and never where he would tolerate to see her shiver because of a gust of wind. She will have all the clothes she needed to stay warm. Definitely, the life of Catherine was going to change for the better. 

After a quick introduction to the staff, composed of a cook, a butler and only two maids, he made her visit her new house, jubilating when the girl gawked at his impressive library and then laughing genuinely at her happiness to discover a huge, beautiful, warm and already lit room. Her own room was far more bigger than the dilapidated house where she had lived with her mom.

She sat on the bed, her wolf still in her arm, looking at Turpin with a mix of gratitude and something else he couldn’t decipher.

“Happy ?”

“Yes,” was the simple answer of Catherine but her eyes were telling so much more.

Thank you, I feel safe, I am happy, I think I know who you are. 

“Good. You will have your own maid who will help you to get dressed every morning and night. She will do your hair and starting next week you will have tutors teaching you everything a lady should know and even more. I expect your best behaviour and assertiveness in your study, understood?” said Turpin with severity.

The girl nodded once before biting her lower lip.

“Something amiss ?” asked Turpin, frowning an eyebrow.

“How should I call you ?”

Father was is first thought but he could be a bit overwhelming for the child. After all, she didn’t know yet and he didn’t want to rush her with the truth. First, he wanted to win her trust. Maybe even her love. 

“Well, my name is Richard and when it is only the both of us, you can call me so. In public, you will call me Lord Turpin like a proper lady should do.”

The girl didn’t answer him, instead, she looked intensively at him as if she was trying to discover the secret of his soul, which he hoped, she would never be able to do so.

“Are you my father ?” she asked abruptly.

Caught off guard, Turpin gawked at the boldness of the child, impressed by her perspicacity. Lying would be stupid but saying aloud the truth was overwhelming for The Judge who was still trying to proceed with the novelty of his paternity and the fact that he had now a child living under his roof.

“Your wolf… has it a name ?”

“Merlin. Like the wizard.”

“Well, Merlin was mine when I was your age.”

He hoped this answer would be enough but Catherine was only a child and the subtlety of the world escaped her.

“So I am right, you are my father ?”

Richard swallowed with difficulty and almost shocked when the girl took his large hand into her little one, her eyes bearing hope and gratitude.

“Yes kid, I am your father,” he eventually answered not without emotion and a mix of new feelings invading him deeply through his heart and soul.

Catherine offered him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

Definitely a Turpin smile, he thought proudly, recognising in her smile his. 

“Yes, I am your father and from now on you will be known as Catherine Elena Victoria Turpin.”

Catherine squeezed his hand and weren’t he so awkward and reserved about his own emotion, he would have hugged the child. His child. His daughter. 

“Everything will be fine now, daughter of mine,” he whispered as an everlasting promise. 

[ms-rampage]

Anything For Khaleesi

John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language. Some fluff.

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I am a firm believer that Soap has a crush on Game of Thrones character Daenerys Targaryen (or Emilia Clarke in genral), and refers to her as his wife. So Y/n decides to exploit that crush. Also, lots of Game of Thrones talk, sorry to those who don’t watch the show. I had only recently started watching it myself. 😅😅😅

****

So you've been working with the 141 Task Force for not long, you're an operator. Ever since your arrival Soap had taken a liking to you, but of course he would never admit it.

He played it off as being friendly, since he's that way with everyone, but you were 100% sure he has a crush on you.

One time you were going to his room because he had borrowed some laundry detergent. Oh the irony, you hope he hadn't used all of it since you bought it in bulk and was expensive.

When you approached his quarters, you knocked on the door. "It's me!." you say before being allowed entry.

"It's open." you hear him respond.

You enter, and hear the sound of a dragon, and people screaming coming from his TV.

"Game of Thrones?." you ask, turning to look at what he's watching.

"Mhm." he hums, not looking away from the TV.

"Do you still have that laundry detergent I let you borrow last week?." you ask, turning to him, but his full attention is on the television.

"It's over there." he answers, motioning to the shelf behind you. Taking it from the shelf, needing to get some laundry done before you're stuck with piles of paperwork for the next few weeks.

"Catching up?." you ask him, on his status of the show.

"Rewatching." he replies, still not paying attention to you.

You could've walked into his room naked and he probably wouldn't even notice, or naked with a baby dragon on your shoulder.

"Your eyes are glued to that damn tv." you joked, trying to break his concentration.

To your surprise, he actually looks away from the TV to look at you.

"You watch the show?." he asks, sitting up slightly in his seat.

"I’ve only watched up until season 4. Mid season 4." you tell him, "Haven't caught up since."

He chuckles, "You're a few seasons behind lass." He has that cute little side smirk that made you fall for him, but you’d never tell him that. It would cause a lot of teasing from his end.

You sigh, "Yeah, I know, but I have laundry to do, I'll catch up at some point. I gotta get going, I’ll see you around.”

“See you later lass.” he says, before leaving his room.

Fast forward to several weeks later, a few weeks away from Halloween. You assumed no one dressed up for the day. The occasional decoration here and there, some candy, but nothing serious.

You chuckle, as you knock on his door, “You alright in there Soap?.” You don’t know, but he actually jumped as you knocked at his door.

Ghost scared you on a mere daily basis, especially when he would turn up unexpectedly as you walked down the hall. So that can count as a Halloween scare. Walking down the same hall as Soap’s quarters, which is in the same building as yours. You hear the sound of moaning coming from his room.

Getting up from his seat to open the door, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” he says, trying to keep his cool, and himself collected.

“Alright, cause it sounds like you’re watching porn in there.” you joke which makes him turn red.

“I’m, uh, watching Game of Thrones.” he mutters, “It's at a-.”

“Sex scene?.” you finish his response, “I figured. Well I won’t interrupt, enjoy your sex scene.”

That response makes him laugh, “You’re welcome to come in, since you need to catch up on the show.”

You decided to take him up on his offer, “You know what? Sure, I’ll watch it with you.” That put a smile on his face.

You can’t tell, but he’s internally doing flips, and cartwheels because Soap does, in fact, have a crush on you. Gaz and Alex being the only ones who know this, Ghost doesn’t really interfere in that sort of thing, and Price suspects Soap has a thing for you, but not it being mutual.

“What season are you on?.” you ask him, taking a seat on his couch.

“Finishing up season 7.” he tells you, “Am I gonna rewatch it again? Yes.”

“I got to season 5.” you tell him, “So spoilers are ahead of me for this season.”

“I got you.” he grabs the remote, and changes the episode to season 5, “What episode?.”

“I believe episode 9.” you tell him, “I’m getting to that one.”

He changes it to season 5, episode 9. The Dance of Dragons. It gets to the part where they’re in the fighting pit, and the Sons of the Harpy are attacking, surrounding Daenerys, Missandei, Tyrion and Jorah, then Drogon comes to save them, taking Daenerys to safety.

“Daenerys and Missandei are totally in love with each other.” you say, “Either that, or they’re really really close friends.”

“Both, possibly?.” he says, “She’s had many lovers, Drogo, Daario, and spoiler, Jon Snow in the later seasons. If I had a woman like her, I’d never let her go.”

Now that makes you throw your head back in laughter, “You think you’d have a chance with the Mother of Dragons?.”

“Absolutely!.” he tells you in a matter of fact tone, “I would definitely have a chance with her.”

"You got a crush on her? Or Emilia Clarke?." you ask, shifting in your seat.

"Both." he responds, "She's my wife."

That really makes you holler out. He's ridiculous, and an idiot but he's your ridiculous idiot.

You two continued to watch the rest of season 5, then all of season 6, and you made your way into season 7. At some point you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder. He felt butterflies in his stomach seeing you asleep. You looked so cute, and he didn't want to move, not wanting to wake you. A whole episode later, you wake up. Forgetting where you were. “Shit.” you mutter, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey sleepy head.” he teases youu, “You missed a few episodes of season 6.”

"How long was I asleep for ?." you asked, sitting up.

"An hour, you missed half of episode 2, and the first half of episode 3." he tells you, "Or at least I think you did."

You checked the time on your phone, and it was starting to get late. "I should get going, it's after 11."

Soap checks the time on his phone, "Shit, we really did watch a whole season. Well I did at least you fell asleep".

You sleepily laugh at his comment, "Shut up." Followed by a yawn.

You both get up from the couch, he opens the door for you while you gather your things. "Goodnight." you tell him.

"G'night." he responds as he closes the door.

A few days later, you're in your room doing some paperwork, taking a minute or 2 away from it. You search online for any Daenerys Targaryen outfits and a silver wig. You wanted to test the waters and see how Soap would react to you dressed as his so-called 'wife'.

You found a few of them, you were wondering what outfit would he like the most.

You settled with the blue dress she had worn season 3.

The silvery blonde wig, you wanted it to be real hair so it'll be easier to braid, but synthetic hair is slightly cheaper, and nearly similar. So that is what you went with. You ordered the dress, shoes, the wig and other accessories. Making sure you got the right size and measurements, even if it was a little big, you can always hem it, but if it was too small then you'd have to DIY your own dress after spending so much money on the one you purchased for one day, or somehow lose a ton of weight for it to fit.

With Halloween being a few weeks away, you hope it came sooner rather than at the last minute.

A week passed, and your items had arrived. You went to check for your mail, and everything came in a box. You looked like a gremlin going from the mailroom to your quarters with a semi large box in your hands.

Making it back to your room, you open the box and the dress is beautiful, from looking at it. It looks like it'll fit you.

The silvery blonde wig, now it won't suit you, but hey, it's only a costume, not a permanent look.

You had it prepared, and ready for Halloween, the wig you kept on a lamp that you never used. You hoped no one saw it, so you kept it at the far corner of your room covered by a stack of boxes.

You and Gaz were hanging out in the base's lounge area.

"Does anyone ever dress up for Halloween?."you ask him.

"Not really, with Ghost wearing his mask all the time, it feels like Halloween all the time." he tells you.

You let out a soft laugh, "Yeah, I can imagine."

"Price and Laswell usually have bowls of candy here and there, but nothing too major." he continues. "Why? Are you planning on dressing up?."

You shrug, as if you didn't spend money on a silvery blonde wig and a dress, "Probably not, wouldn't know what to dress up as anyway."

Some time later you walk down the hallway towards your room, and surprise, it's Soap man coming from the opposite direction.

"Y/n!." he calls out.

"Hey." you greet back to him.

"Haven't seen you for a while." he tells you, "Laswell keeping you busy?."

You let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah, she's been keeping me busy. Paperwork that I still need to get done."

"I'll let you get back to it." he tells you, hand on your shoulder. "See you around."

And that day has come, Halloween. 7am. You took a shower before getting dressed, you put on a little bit of makeup before you got dressed. You carefully put the blue dress on, so it wouldn't get stained by your makeup. The cloak that came with the dress, the dark pants and boots.

This could be an everyday outfit for you, without the cloak though.

Finally, the wig, you had styled it the night before. Taking 2 small pieces of the hair making it into one braid, then taking 2 more pieces and making them into one braid. It sounds complicated, but the image helps out when doing it.

Luckily the wig came with a bald cap, keeping your actual hair away, and in place.

Having the whole outfit intact, you almost didn't want to look in the mirror out of embarrassment, but when you did, your whole face turned red.

"Oh my god." you hold back your laughter, one hand over your mouth. This color of hair did not suit you.

"Oh fuck, Y/n. What are you doing?." you tell yourself. Oh that's right, you wanna know if Soap actually has feelings for you, and so you dress up as The Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen for this holiday to get a reaction out of him.

Just go about your day, don't even acknowledge the fact you're wearing a very silvery blonde wig. It suits Emilia Clarke, but not you.

You gather your stuff and go on with your regular route on base. Soap probably isn't in his room, he's probably in his office, or chatting with the other members of the 141.

Your regular route involves going by Captain Price's office, and so you made a quick stop at his office. He's usually there, plus you had to give him some files that Laswell had you working on the past week.

Once you get to his office door you knock on it even though it's open slightly.

"Come in." he responds, looking down as he fills out some paperwork.

"Captain, I have the paperwork Laswell wanted me to give to you once I finished." you tell him as you enter.

"Set them down Y/n." he tells you. Setting them down on his desk.

"Was there anything else Laswell wanted me to do for you?." you ask him, still waiting for him to look up at you in this ridiculous wig and blue dress.

He sighs, "No, not that I-." He cuts himself off when he sees you in this costume. "Know of." He lets out a breathy chuckle that makes you burn red.

"Did you attend to the dragons, Khaleesi?." he asks in a joking matter, but playing along with whatever is it that you're doing.

You can't help but burst into laughter, "I did, and they're growing everyday. Soon they'll be able to feed themselves."

You both share a laugh for a few seconds.

"I think you're the only one who dressed up." he tells you. "That's if the others dress up."

"I would say Ghost too, but then he looks like that all the time." you tell him. "I think it'll be a tied costume contest if there's one."

You two chat for a bit, getting a few compliments from a few other soldiers walking by.

"Soap is gonna lose his mind when he sees you." Price tells you, "I know you and him are fans of the show."

"I'll know it when he sees me." you tell him, "I'll see you around Captain."

You continued down the hall, your usual route that you do everyday. You hear Gaz and Soap's voices coming from the lounge area. You stop in your tracks, fix your dress, and wig before proceeding.

Soap sat with his back to you while Gaz turned his head as you walked in.

"Hey guys." you greet them as you walk in. Keeping your cool, and trying to act like you're not wearing a costume.

"Uhh hey, Y/n." Gaz greets back. Soap hasn't looked at you until you sat in the chair in front of him.

"Hey Soap." you say, taking a seat in the chair across from home, looking through a book that is on the table in front of you.

"Hey Y/-." he stops as he is completely hypnotized by your appearance. Hand placed over his mouth. You can't tell if he's laughing, or crying, or both.

But his change of mood, makes you do the same.

"What?." you ask, putting on an innocent tone "What's wrong??."

"What are you doing?." he asks, if you didn't know any better you can tell his eyes were heart shaped right now.

"I'm doing anything." you say innocently. "Just reading." You flip through a page in the book you're 'reading'.

He knows what game you're playing, and it's a dangerous one. "You're a tease. You know that lass." he tells you before getting up from his seat and leaves.

"Am I a tease?." you ask Gaz.

"You planned this? Didn't you." he answers your question with a question.

"In a way." you respond. "Didn't mean to give him an awkward boner.". Making you two laugh.

Towards the end of the day, you've gotten many compliments on your costume. Hell, even Ghost complimented you, it's not unusual, but somewhat rare.

You're heading back to your room, right when you pass Soap's room his door immediately swings open, and he pulls you in. You didn't even have time to process what just happened, it was very quick.

Locking the door the second you're in. Pinning you against the door, both his hands on either side of your head. Your hands are down to your sides, flat against the door.

"You cheeky little minx, you thought I wouldn't notice lass." He tells you, his eyes dark and feral.

"I don't know what you're talking about Johnny." you tell him still playing the innocent card. His face inches away from yours.

"I think you do." he whispers in your ear, his whole body pinned against yours. You can tell your cheeks are red by the burning sensation you feel. Feeling a slight poke at your inner thigh.

"You wanted to get a raise out of me, did ya?." he growls, moving a strain of hair from the wig out your face.

A smirk now on your lips, "I know how to get you. It's quite easy."

One of his hands snakes to the back of your neck, the other on your waist. A growl comes from the back of his throat, "You know how to get me going, especially dressed like this."

His lips clash with yours, a moan escapes your mouth. One of your legs snakes around one of his. Both your hands on his shoulders.

His kisses are rough, and aggressive. His hand squeezes the back of your neck. Making your legs weak. Seeing this, he grabs you by your thighs and lifts you up. Carrying you towards his bed, dropping you onto the bed, breaking the kiss, letting you catch your breath.

"Fuck." you pant, biting your lip, looking up at him. He chuckles looking down at you, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Gotcha where I want you Khaleesi." he says with an exhale, before kissing you again. His lips hungry, and wanting more of you.

You hand trails up his shirt, he grabs your hand, stopping you from going further.

"Not so fast." he chuckles, breaking the kiss, "Since you decided to tease me. You're gonna take it like a whore."

His words made you wet down there. You can feel it. You love this feral side of Soap.

"Strip." he commands you, taking a few steps back to give you some space.

You start with the shoes, once those were off you got to the pants, lifting up the dress slightly to remove them.

Once those are off. You unclipped the cloak, tossing it aside, same with the necklace. You stop for a moment.

His eyes still dark, even more dark than from a few minutes ago. "I didn't tell you to stop, did I?."

"No." you mutter in a soft, naive tone. Grabbing the dress but it's hem, you pull it up and over your head. Your bra and panties, matching the same color as the dress. You notice the bulge in Soap's pants.

You're about to remove your wig when his words stop you.

"Leave the wig on." he orders you. There you are standing in your sargeant's room in your matching bra and panties on Halloween. He can't help, but take in your beauty. He's had a crush on from the day he met you. The only thing in common you two have is this damn show, probably other things too.

"You're.. so beautiful." he tells you, feeling butterflies in his stomach. Cupping both your cheeks, and placing another kiss on your lips. Your hands gently touch his neck, one of them, tracing down to his pants.

His movements are fast, he quickly spins you around, forcing you to bend over on his bed. Knocking the wind out of you. "Shit." you mutter under your breath.

You hear the sound of his belt being undone, followed by a zipper. His rough, calloused hand giving you smack on your left ass cheek causing you to yelp.

He yanks down your panties, the only thing that was covering how wet you are. Running two of his fingers down your wet folds.

"Khaleesi, wet for me already, huh?." he teases, followed by a chuckle and him sucking on his fingers. You feel the tip of cock, teasing your entrance. Causing you to whimper and squirm.

One of his hands gripping your shoulder to keep you place, while the other is on your hip. Enjoying how you try to get away from him.

"Just like how the Dothraki fuck their women, huh?." he whispers in your ear, forcing his cock into your wet core.

"Fuck!." you exclaim, grabbing the bed sheet as he rocks his hips against yours. "Oh. Fuck."

Letting you adjust to his cock before pulling down, and shoving it inside you at a more aggressive pace. Your tight walls squeezing his cock as you push yourself back against him. Back arched.

Abusing your poor hole, stretching you out completely. You feel him put his hand on your stomach.

He chuckles, "Looks like I'm inside you, lass." Going back to his fast, rough pace.

You're holding onto his blanket for dear life, balling it up to muffle your screams into. He was ready to get you to cum over and over for the rest of the night.

Once he's done abusing your back hole, he turns you over onto your back. Both of you are sweaty, and out of breath, but he was determined to get you to cum.

Somehow your wig stayed on during all that. He kicks his shoes off, shirt already gone as well as his pants, and boxers. He stood naked before you, while the knky article of clothing you had on was your bra.

Trying to catch your breath, he attacks your neck with bites, and soothes them with kisses. Leaving his mark on you.

"Johnny, please." you beg, feeling your makeup run from the sweating you're doing.

A shit eating grin on his face with one hand on your waist, "Please what doll?."

You let out a pathetic moan, "Please fuck me."

Letting out a devious little chuckle, "Anything for Khaleesi."

He lines himself up with your soaked velvety entrance, and shoves himself in you. Pinning you down, grabbing both your wrists with one hand while the other remained on your waist, giving him a better advantage to rearrange your insides.

"Fuck." you cry, arching your back.

"You take me so well baby." he groans, snapping his hips back and forth against yours. "You know how to get me going."

Hoping no one hears the pathetic noises you're making, but at the same time you wouldn't really care, especially if he was making you feel this good.

You begin to feel yourself come undone.

"Fuck.. J-Johnny." you whimper, "I need to-." Followed by the most pathetic whimper you've ever produced.

"C'mon lass, use your words." he teases you yet again.

"I need to… cum." you cry, tears running down your face, "Please.". Your toes curling, feeling like you're losing control of your limbs.

"I want to cum with you." he tells you, one hand on the back of your neck again, "Together, can you do that for me?."

You let out an incoherent moan.

"Use your words, love." he places a kiss on your forehead that turns you into putty.

"Y-yes, Johnny.. I can." you try your best to mutter out. He continues to fuck you at an aggressive and rough pace, like he's trying to catch up with your euphoric climax. By the time he knows it, he's ready to release himself.

"Where?." he asks, holding back until you give him permission where to release himself.

"Inside.. please." you plead.

He raises his eyebrows, "You sure?."

Nodding, "Yes, please."

His movements become sloppy, and start to slow down. "Please, I need to-." you beg yet again.

"With me, my love." he tells you, foreheads touching. You both cum at the same time. The feeling of release, makes the both of you nearly pass out of pleasure. Soap drops himself on top of you. Breathing heavily, sweaty and needing to take a shower.

"You okay love?." he checks on you, moving the strain of wig hair out of your face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." you respond, "You were amazing." Bringing a smile to his face, "You were better.". He places another kiss on your lips. He takes in the image in front of him.

You naked in bed with him, and dressed as the Mother of Dragons, or what is remaining of your clothes.

"I'm not sure how this wig stayed on during all that." you joked, taking it off for a second to fix it. Soap laughs at the fact you're wearing a bald cap to keep your actual hair intact.

"Nice bald cap lass." more teasing from the Soap man.

You let out a soft chuckle, before putting it back on "Shut up."

You two proceeded to stay in bed a little longer before showering, but you two ended up staying in bed for the rest of the night.

[ritz-writes]

@asleepyy so sorry for tagging u twice in one day and i hope im not bothering u with my brain rot 😅

but yes, i did actually dissect the lyrics. yes, i am actually insane. and yes, i love this au quite a lot.

here are my notes and what i think each song represents, tho its mainly just the vibes i get. i made notes as i listened to them (note: i see songs almost always in animatic form. idk if that will effect how i imagine what each song means, but i thought it might be worth mentioning)

join me as i lose my mind over the course of an hour and a half

say what you think: def making me think of them both in heaven and jophiel wanting to ask questions.

running up that hill: AHH this one hurt. very obvious as well. jophiel seeing that azazel shouldnt be a demon. "And if I only could I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get Him to swap our places." i am sobbingggg

what difference does it make?: at first i was going to say its jophiel wanting to figure out what went wrong but azazel makes them promise not to, but i think its better suited for azazel understanding hes a demon, but he cant help but still have faith in the almighty

please please please let me get what i want: fuckkk is this about azazel being a demon but still wanting to do good 😭 short but still painful

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've): my first reaction to the title alone was like the second image of the kambucha girl meme. anyway i think this one is about them becoming friends (or more?? 👀) but knowing its seen as wrong. "And if I start a commotion, I run the risk of losing you and that's worse" makes me also think of jophiel talking to the metatron and realizing he shouldnt ask about azazel lest he risk the poor thing being smited.

nothing critical: ohhhh this one gives hella vibes of jophiel not trusting heaven and knowing "something isnt right here" in regards to the fall-- HOLD UP "I know, someone had to go, If not him it'd be me instead" HELLO??? aziraphale asking for jophiel??? is this like after he finds out what azazels name used to be??

flowers never bend with the rainfall: hmm... i feel like this is a plot point song. not sure why. but "And I hide behind the shield of my illusion" makes me think it pertains to azazel

bird in space: oh this ones a bit tricky. i think ive reached the songs that no longer fit the lore we've been given thus far. so the only thing i can think rn is jophiel enjoying earthly pleasures? not rlly sure

angel, won't you call me?: oh fuckkk is this about a fight they have? "I fled at the face of my rival. When I felt his breath at the back of my neck. Angel, won't you call?" theres no way that isnt about azazel saying smth and then leaving, only to be scared he severed his tie to the only person thats been nice to him.

the stranger: first of this is a bop and im loving it. very groovy. the first thing that comes to mind is the "choose your faces wisely" prophecy. ooo is this about jophiel trying to convince azazel hes still meant to be an angel? that he wasnt meant to fall? also, the last verse is sticking out to me... not sure why

all i think about now: fuckkkkk this is giving me the vibes of jophiel finding out azazel Fell cuz of him and feeling guilty about it. "If I'm late, can I thank you now?" FUCKING OW?? oh yeah for sure this is about jophiel finding out and being sucker punched with guilt

ill be your mirror: oh goddd this song. i know crowley listens to this song but i cant remember what its about so lets see. AH SHIT YEAH THATS RIGHT. okay so jophiel reminds azazel that he is inherently good, regardless of if hes a demon. thats what im getting from this (also just tihnking of that ask i sent about the reflective sunglasses bthwjegkrw)

me and my husband: okay all im getting from this is "they r down bad". they r very very very much in love. getting vibes of this being after they stop the apocolypse. or maybe their feelings developing thru the centuries

time in a bottle: oh man this song always gets me. okay so, this and the last song r giving the oh-shit-i-might-be-in-love vibes. but this one is with jophiel's pov, while me and my husband is azazel's

ritz note: the last couple songs have been cute and lovey and i am now terrified of what the next ones r gonna be. cuz i know this fandom. and i am not ready for the pain. i am afraidddd

lonesome town: i fucking called it i knew the happy wouldnt last 😭😭 they had a fight didnt they. yeahhh they had a fight. FUCK why is this so sad but so pretty

across the universe: is this one sad too??? hang on theres a bit thats not in english, what does that mean... "Hail to the Heavenly Teacher." okay so i assume this is an azazel song. this is just making me think of the bookshop fire, but its azazel thinking jophiel died 😭 ....i am staring at the lyircs. i am glaring at the lyrics. this song MEANS something. i just dont know what. but its important. im squinting at it very hard (note: i came back to this song and am STILL glaring at it. its like. its like im seeing it covered in sand but i know theres gold underneath. i cant SEE the gold, but i know its there. this is driving me nuts /pos)

no wonder i: hm.. im not rlly sure with this one. OH?? is this azazel finding out heaven isnt that good?? "Suddenly I'm not so sure. That intentions can be pure." hmmmmmmm

what do they know?: holy shit okay this is a completely different kind of song than the others. im.... glaring at these lyrics too. feels like a plot point but cant tell what it is. i think its about jophiel? maybe heaven too?? idk im grasping at straws with this one

sea of love: oh yay a happy song again 😌 okay this is just short and sweet. gives me forgiveness and/or confession vibes.

who are you, really?: this one sounds important and i am glaring!! makes me think of "we dont need heaven we dont need hell" and also "a demon/angel that goes along with hell/heaven as far as he can". also just makes me think of jophiel speaking.

the moon will sing: i fucking love this song but i dont think ive ever looked at the lyrics so lets goooo. right away i see "I could have been anyone, anyone else. Before you made the choice for me" and think of aziraphale asking and falling for jophiel, and in a way making the choice of jophiel staying an angel. "Instead, I made a bed with apathy" jophiel trying not to care about a random demon. "I shine only with the light you gave me" jophiel giving azazel ideas on how to do "good" while being "bad". also with that line, thinking of azazel saying that to god and being sad about having fallen AUGHH i have a whole animatic in my head with this song and im losing my mind

matephor: hnnnn another important sounding song. jophiel vibes. fight song perhaps?? "Don't look too hard 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me" azazel vibes??? this one is elusive to me but i love it. okay im slowly getting more azazel vibes. like azazel trying to convince jophiel that he is a demon and fell for a reason

providence: right away getting "heaven and hell r bad" vibes. OHH okay okay this is giving me hella jophiel vibes, but specificly snarky and sassy jophiel vibes. of being like "oh yes heaven is oh so great, we kill children! but its for the greater good, of course. gotta beat hell and all that, even at the cost of innocents. all for the almighty and her ineffable plan." (this song is a bop omg)

earth angel: oh i know this one but only with crowley and aziraphale, so im excited to listen to it with an oopsie omens mind set. omg wait why does it hit HARDER. love sick azazel is such a cute image 🥺🥰

what more can i do: hmm.. them being in love but knowing its "forbidden"? cant tell who i imagine with it more

starman: this is just them. classic good omens song, regardless of the au. love to see it 💖

a pearl: AH FUCK ANOTHER SAD ONE. mitski whyy. hm.. azazel song? jophiel?? i think jophiel... tho my mind might be turning to mush at this point so im not sure. one of them is sad

duvet: oh def azazel vibes. oh maybe some jophiel vibes too?? i can see it swaping povs. i think it fits azazel more tho.

ritz note: OKAY the next song is in a different language and for a split second i legit thought i was having a stroke when i pulled up the lyrics ngl bgkewrrkjq

différent de toi: no idea what this song is about but its pretty 😊

oh thats all of them! i think the first half is more coherent observations, while the second half is just... rambling a bit lmao. idk if any of this makes sense. i might also be looking for things that arent there with these songs, but oh well. this was fun!

and now, after looking back at them all, i really does just slowly derail near the end lmao

[gravity-falls-fanatic89]

Never really thought to properly introduce myself, so I figured I'd make a little bio:

Name: Laynee

Age: 35

About me: I became a huge Gravity Falls fan towards the beginning of 2022, and hold it very close to my heart for everything it has brought me in my life. It has been my comfort show through severe diagnosed depression and severe anxiety.

My comfort character is Stan, but that's been well-known for awhile. I would absolutely marry him in a heartbeat, even if I'm already married with 2 small humans 😂

I also like Bob's Burgers and The Great North, but don't watch tons of TV. I love collecting GF merchandise, art, and keychains, and anything obscure that catches my eye.

I try to support all of any orientation, gender, and race, and prefer to maintain a "mom" mentality if I can help. I don't do NSFW and mature with under 18, but will always be a listening ear and non judgemental "parent" if you need one. Over 18, please let me know. But I enjoy talking about most anything, and getting to learn and understand new to me fandoms.

I am also severely introverted, so don't be afraid to reach out first, because I will get physically ill approaching anyone, whether it's artists, writers, or other fans for conversation. I don't want to come off creepy 🫣😬😅

I reside in the Northeast US, but one day, want to go to Confusion Hill ☺️

I absolutely love any and all Stan art, and try to maintain a wall, or my "Shrine" of him. A lot of pieces are sentimental to me, and help me maintain and retain my positive memories. Most pieces have a lot of meaning and love behind them to me.

But, this is my blog of rambling, Stan love, art appreciation, and most anything on my mind I don't feel like talking about elsewhere.

Welcome 🤗

[ithebookhoarder]

Joel teaching you how to ride a horse: (Joel Miller x Reader)

A/N: I apologise in advance as I am through and through city bred, and do not -in fact - know how to ride a horse. I’d love to learn though, especially if Joel was willing to teach me 😅

Warnings: swearing, light smut, references to smut

Masterlist:

Riding a horse isn’t scary. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be. 

Getting into college was scary. Surviving the outbreak after finishing a 12 hour shift at work was scary. Hell, every day since then, fighting and scrambling to stay alive despite the unknown horrors that seemed to surround you… now that had been scary. 

But this? Learning to ride a horse? From Joel no less? It should have been a cakewalk. 

You were embarrassed to say you were trembling all over before you’d even entered the training paddock. It had taken a whole lot of coaxing from your all too patient partner to get you to at least make it close enough to pet the horse, let alone mount it. 

Why had you agreed to this again? 

Oh, yeah. 

Him. 

Because of those big brown eyes of his and his soft, sultry tones… begging you to let him teach you so you could go on romantic rides together, beyond the borders of Jackson, see the sights, get some time alone… he’d made it sound so appealing, as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. 

“But Joel… You know we could just skip the horse part and still go for a ride here, in bed-“

“Not that kind of ride, you minx.” 

It’s also a smart idea, as Joel explains, so that you both knew you had a way of making a quick escape should it ever come to it. 

It makes sense. Annoyingly. And you know you have no choice but to agree and give in. 

Which is how you ended up here… frustrated, sweating, and regretting ever saying ‘hi’ to Joel Miller. 

It’s not fair at all. 

You have no idea how he makes it look so easy, what with him trotting about like one of those damn cowboys you’d seen in movies growing up. The kind your Nanna had fawned over whenever she got you to agree to watch an old black and white flick on a Sunday afternoon. 

It was like the horse just knew what he wanted him to do without Joel ever having to do or say anything. 

“It’s all in the grip, darling,” he explains after you huff and complain that your horse hates you. “Come here. I’ll show you.” 

And he does. 

He stands behind you and grabs you around the waist, changing his position and his grip several times in quick succession. It feels like you’re back in medical school again, being shown the various parts of human anatomy. 

“What do you feel when I grab you like this, all super tight, like I’m crushing your ribs?” 

“L… like you’re trying to hurt me?” 

“Exactly? And when I hold you here? Like this, much looser, instead?” 

“Like you’re trustworthy… that, I’m safe. That you’re trying to hug me rather than wrestle me.” 

“Now imagine my arms are your legs, and your waist is that horse. You wonder why he’s getting all worked up, but he’s sensitive. He feels the same as you do. Relax and he’ll relax too. See? Easy.” 

Yeah. Sure. Easier said than done. 

Still, Joel is determined to see this through and does not allow you to quit - no matter how much you try.

He keeps on urging you back on to the horse every time you fall off, and is the first to praise you when you do something right. 

“No wonder Ellie bitched so much about you teaching her to swim. Heard you pushed her in a river-”

“She learned to swim, didn't she?”

“JOEL!”

You hate to accept he has a point. After all, by the end of the day you’ve managed to learn to stay on the horse, and can actually steer them in any direction you wish. 

Which, in Joel’s eyes, makes you a damn state champ and he’s keen to tell you as such. 

In fact, he sounds so proud of you, gushing praise about how well you did, and how he knows it was tough but you stuck with it and that’s the most important thing about learning any new skill... 

It makes you feel all gooey inside - especially as he runs you a hot bath later that night, so you can soak your aching body. You know without asking that the slowly growing pain will be even worse come morning. 

It’s no wonder Joel’s stayed in as good shape as he has, given how much time he spends riding around the countryside beyond Jackson’s walls. In fact, you have a new found appreciation for it.

“You did real good, darling. I mean it. I’m proud of you.” 

“Thanks, baby.”

“You’re welcome... now skooch on over so I can get in there with ya. Who knows when Ellie will get home, and I plan to make the most of having this place to ourselves.” 

He doesn't have to ask twice. 

Soon enough, your groans and moans of pain were soon replaced with those of pleasure, accompanied by the sound of water sloshing over the sides of the too-small tub. 

If this is your reward then you’re not opposed to getting back in the saddle again at some point to finish your lessons. 

But, be that as it may, you still definitely prefer being left aching after the other kind of ride instead... one that involves a bed, and a whole different kind of wild creature. 

[peaches2217]

Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but if you grew up in a cult and you’re still religious, you never escaped your cult. You’re not a cult survivor, you’re literally still a cult member. I hope you get the help you need.

(I’m assuming you’re referencing my tags on this post?? Lemme know if I’m off-base! 😅)

Oooookay! Little rant under the cut, because while it is a bit of a sensitive topic, I think I have the right to answer honestly!

TW: Religious trauma, abusive relationships, homophobia, just generally deep shit about toxic religious culture

Friendo, with all due respect, you don’t get to tell me what I am or what I’m not when it comes to my religious beliefs. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I’ve spent the past five years navigating my own thoughts and beliefs after twenty-odd years of being told exactly what to think and how to believe, and that’s something I won’t allow to be belittled or diminished.

I did grow up in a cult. My lifelong church was an Assemblies of God church, which is a denomination already known for being… kinda intense, but I got the “privilege” of seeing it morph into a fledgling cult as I grew up; gradually cutting all associations with all churches outside the denomination, thinly-veiled messages of fear and hate becoming less and less veiled, increasingly vigilant calls to action against “The Enemy,” which went from a vague way of referencing Satan and his influence to referencing literally anyone who wasn’t part of the congregation. I dated a guy who sincerely believed, and preached to a room full of “Amen!”s, that Catholics are all Hell-bound and non-Evangelical Protestants weren’t far behind. I didn’t even think twice about the logic of suggesting a 2000-year-old religion was wrong and illegitimate prior to the past hundred years or so. I was just enamored by his devotion and wisdom.

I was always queer and suppressed it to varying degrees of success before getting my first taste of freedom in college and falling into a relationship that became abusive. I came back home after dropping out, broken and confused, and ran back to the only place I’d ever felt welcomed, but realized pretty quickly that I’d been deemed one of the very same outsiders I was warned about growing up. I threw myself into repentance. I desperately tried to regain favor in the eyes of the church and the God I was raised to believe in. I made the mistake of finally opening up and trusting the pastor enough to confide in him about my abusive relationship, to which he responded with a lecture about MY wrongdoings, followed by him outing me to the entire congregation. One day after service when I was about 21 or 22, I approached my dad while he was talking with the pastor’s wife, and she stopped mid-sentence when she saw me and just walked away in the opposite direction. That was a pretty common reaction people had to me after being outed, but I think that was the moment I realized I had failed to atone and failed as a Christian.

Through it all, my dad spoke with conviction of a God who was gentle, loving, merciful, and kind. I realized late in my teenhood that, for all his devotion to our church, the God he spoke of wasn’t the same God our pastor spoke of. My dad remains a victim of the cult because he was raised to believe all figures of authority are well-meaning — a few months back, my mom tried to sit him down and explain plainly that several of my psychological issues are a direct result of religious trauma inflicted by the church he raised me in, and he sincerely couldn’t wrap his head around the notion. But even as that church has morphed into a cult, he’s held belief in a God and a Christianity more forgiving. I realized during my last few visits to the church, spread over the course of a couple of years, that he’d also been othered, if not quite as hard and suddenly as I was. Even now he’ll express frustration that no one seems to consider his ideas or opinions when he used to be considered a go-to decision maker.

My dad’s no leftist; he’s proudly conservative, supports Trump, and hides his homophobia behind a veil of sympathy for those “called to celibacy” or with a “propensity towards sodomy” (both terms he’s used to describe me, to my face). I love him, and we have a good relationship, but I sincerely worry about what might happen when he finds out I’m trans. His one deviation from the church, his belief that God’s much more willing to love and forgive than the pastor tells us, is nevertheless enough to have him considered an outlier. Being ostracized and forced to look from the outside in allowed me to see that and realize “Hey, hold up, that doesn’t make sense.”

So for the past half decade, I’ve been doing something that goes directly against everything I was ever taught: examining my beliefs and determining what I truly believe and what I only believe out of indoctrination and fear. Looking at the Scriptures in their original forms and historical-political contexts, and examining its English translations through the same lens. Discerning the difference between what’s biblical and what’s Christlike, how much of Christianity is God’s true word and how much is the agenda of men, challenging myself to question everything I’ve ever known and acknowledge that maybe what I learned was just wrong.

It’s… largely been uphill, but it’s a battle I’m not fighting alone. My girlfriend is a huge source of support; having someone that’s so close to me yet so far removed from the system I was brought up in has been invaluable in opening my eyes to just how fucked up some of the stuff I’ve been taught is. I just earlier this year learned that the Rapture isn’t a widespread belief outside of American Evangelicism, and that it as a concept isn’t even an ancient prophecy, but a relatively recent (like, 19th century, popularized in the 20th century) man made doctrine. My girlfriend, who lacks strong religious affiliation but nonetheless knows her Scripture because she’s from the heavily Catholic Slovakia, was absolutely baffled when I explained what I thought was common knowledge to all Christians. She calls the doctrine “UFO Jesus”.

Since I was at least twelve, I’ve lived in constant fear of the Rapture because I was convinced that, as a “sodomite” who couldn’t bring myself to condemn others like me, all my friends and I would be damned to Hell at any given moment. It’s always been a double-edged sword; fear of damnation is what’s kept me from offing myself several times, but the belief that the Rapture will happen any day and I’ll be tortured for all eternity no matter what I do so there’s really no point in living is a huge part of what got me to the point of wanting to off msyelf in the first place. And I’m learning now that it’s not even a common belief within one of the world’s largest religions, least of all to the extent its importance was pressed within our church. I still struggle to say “I was taught a lie” because that fear of being wrong and suffering greatly for it was part and parcel of my participation in church growing up, but dammit I’m striving to find my own truth instead of the supposed truth drilled into me.

So yes, I’m still religious. But I no longer believe in the God I was taught to believe in. I still haven’t quite figured everything out, and I still struggle thanks to a lifetime of indoctrination, but I’m learning to define my own beliefs bit by bit, and I believe in a God of radical love who mourns what so many oppressive sects of Christianity teach and enforce in His name. And if you don’t believe that, that’s fine! There’s reasons aplenty to be atheistic or antitheistic or religious/spiritual but unaffiliated with Christianity specifically.

But don’t you dare fucking tell me I’m no better now than I was while I was trapped, just because you personally don’t find religion to hold any value. I’m not perfect. I was raised in a deeply flawed ideology and still suffer from holdovers. I’m doing my best to hold myself accountable for those biases as I move forward. But I am, in fact, a victim and a survivor, and I‘ve fought like hell to undo the damage done to me and that I did to others while trapped in that system, and I have every right to be frustrated at those efforts being belittled and to be proud of myself for how far I’ve come anyway.

[presidenthades]

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 2!

(Note: I originally planned to put out these commentaries once a day, but I’ve been recruited for an urgent knitting/crochet project IRL so I might be a bit slow.)

For this chapter’s title, I chose the lyrics for the Father in “The Song of the Seven” because Aegon finds out he’s going to be a dad. 😳

Opening line: I wanted the reader to spend a half-second thinking Aegon was in the middle of a sexual activity 😂. Later in the chapter, both Daemon and Alicent briefly think he’s been out at the brothels, so I wanted to foreshadow that here. But it turns out Aegon just really likes pies.

Gyles and Ronnel were throwaway characters in my original plan, but they ended up being very important to the plot 😅. I took a brief line from Aegon’s letter in Chapter 3 of the Handbook, about him eating pies that were almost better than sex, and created Gyles from that. So Aegon’s been patronizing Gyles’s business for several years.

Gyles rents a small storefront on the Street of Flour, which I presume is where most of the bakers in KL live/work. He’s probably part of the local bakers’ guild, and he’s on the poorer end of the street so his customers tend to be laborers who want a quick hot meal. Aegon stumbled across the shop one day as a young teen when he was hangry, and he’s been coming back ever since.

I spent a ridiculous amount of time researching the history of cheese and barely used it for the fic 🥲. But I want everyone to know I thought very carefully about the type of cheese Gyles uses in his pies! It would be similar to appenzeller, which is a cheese of Swiss origin that uses cider/wine during the cheesemaking process, and it supposedly has an herby flavor (I’ve never had it but I want it). It’s a hard cheese (so it travels well) that melts well (good for pie filling), and it’s from an Alpine region (like the Vale where Gyles is from).

Ronnel barely got a glimpse of Jace during her wedding parade, but he would die for her 🥲.

We get our first glimpse of the Tyroshi, which I tried not to draw too much attention to so readers didn’t get suspicious, but I wanted it in there to set up Aegon’s investigation in Chapter 4. In hindsight, Aegon wishes he just stabbed the man that day…but he probably would’ve gotten beat up or killed in turn by the bodyguards.

BTW I am very proud of the sentence where I describe the bodyguards as looking like chickens 🐔. Sorry, just have to pat my back here.

Author’s nitpick about Maegor’s tunnels! My understanding is the secret tunnels are in the Red Keep but NOT in the Holdfast, which only has one super special secret escape route that book!Aegon uses when Rhaenyra takes KL. I have to remember not to let the characters just pop around anywhere they please using the secret tunnels. If everyone used secret tunnels all the time, they wouldn’t be very secret 🤧. I imagine the passage Aegon uses to sneak in and out of the castle is one that a lot of Targaryen royals have used, so it’s not a HUGE secret.

Daemon heard about the pregnancy pretty quickly after Jace got sick during small council. Nobody is sure where Aegon went, only that he sneaked out (pretty normal for him), and of course Daemon’s first suspicion is that Aegon is out whoring 💀. So Daemon went to the tunnels to catch Aegon on his way back and verify if Aegon was at the brothels or not. If Aegon was out whoring while his wife just found out she’s pregnant, Daemon would probably have done…something not nice 😅. But Aegon was just eating pies so it’s fine!

Aegon is no longer scared of Daemon (he was a bit scared in the first part of the Handbook), but he still doesn’t want to be alone with Daemon in a dark tunnel 👀.

Aegon has excellent zingers in the book, so I wanted give him some very sassy lines in this fic. Hence, Aegon implying Daemon is getting fat 😂. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it, Daemon!

Daemon’s line about “a spate of missing persons in the city” is a reference to the Tyroshi’s doings. The Tyroshi has kidnapped enough “good citizens” (tradesmen like Gyles, as opposed to poor prostitutes) that it’s becoming noticeable.

And yes, Daemon did deliberately make Aegon think something bad happened to Jace as revenge for Alyssa and the early wake up calls.

Originally, I was going to do brief POV scenes of all Jace’s sisters reacting to the pregnancy news, but it got very repetitive so I cut out all of them except Luce. But in the deleted bits, there’s a scene where Alicent asks Rhaena to help find Jace’s premarital nightgowns because the only nightwear Jace has right now is sexy lingerie 🤭. Then there’s a kinda sad bit where Rhaena realizes Alicent thinks she’s helping Jace by removing temptation from Aegon, because a pregnant woman should want reprieve from her husband’s attentions, because that was Alicent’s experience: being pregnant meant she didn’t have to sleep with Viserys. So Alicent struggles to realize that on the contrary, Jace might enjoy her husband’s attention.

Alicent and Rhaenyra have a comedic bit where they synchronize as they transform into Overprotective Future Grandmother mode, to showcase that they’re more similar than they admit. It’s self-explanatory why Rhaenyra is fussy, but this is also Alicent’s first grandchild. And she has always liked Jace, who is basically Alicent’s ideal good-daughter. I also think Alicent is a little jealous that Rhaenyra has Jace; Alicent definitely loves Helaena, but we see her struggling to connect with her daughter on the show, whereas Jace has always been polite, dutiful, and overall “easy” to interact with.

Because Alicent likes Jace so much, she is extra offended at the thought that Aegon might be out whoring. In a way, she still thinks of him as the profligate young prince before the Stepstones (at this point in the story, he’s only been back two months), so she assumed the worst. But it’s obvious to her that Aegon is head over heels for Jace, and she realizes he changed while he was away. So she apologizes, which doesn’t erase the hurt of her accusation but Aegon recognizes it as a big deal since she’s never apologized to him before. And she’s embarrassed about her mean reaction, but she’s too proud to do anything else to make amends.

In an earlier draft of the scene where Aegon learns about the pregnancy, I dragged out the misunderstanding where he thinks he made her cry. There was a whole miscommunication sequence that somehow ends with Aegon thinking Jace doesn’t love him anymore (he tries to give her a new ring, she cries because she knows her hands will swell and she’s worried she’ll be hideous and “I won’t be your pretty girl anymore” or something like that), but it was too melodramatic so I cut it down to a brief moment of pregnancy hormones 😅.

Using her sleeve to wipe her face is a bad habit that Aegon taught Jace because he used to do that for her when they were little and she cried 😭. (He still does it sometimes.)

Another theme in the story: when Jace is nervous, scared, or otherwise feeling negative emotions, Aegon uses humor to bring her out of her pit of despair (e.g. wedding night, during the storm at Dragonstone).

A hennin is that tall cone hat you see in medieval paintings. It was a status flex because it’s so impractical, which means only rich non-working women can wear it. Rhaenys’s hairstyle kinda reminds me of it too 😅. I imagine hennins to be very old-fashioned at this point in time, and maybe Rhaenys made Jace wear a few hennins when she was little and that’s why Jace hates them so much lol.

When I was writing the Handbook, I thought might’ve been the one to come up with the elopement idea. But she’s such a naturally cautious person that now I think she needed nudging first, and Aegon is reckless enough to go for an elopement without thinking about consequences too much.

I also have this idea that Otto has always been a big Jacegon shipper in this universe 😂. It’s the perfect match for his Plan A, B, C, X, Y, and Z. I like to imagine that before Rhaenyra took her daughters to Dragonstone, Otto was telling Aegon things like “bring Jace flowers!” and “wash your hair!” to help the romance along. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point, Otto straight up told Aegon “you need to marry that girl no matter what” (and it’d be hilarious if this planted the seed of the elopement in Aegon’s head).

Tyroshi purple is basically the real-world Tyrian purple, which was made from sea snails and so expensive that only royalty could afford it. I thought it very fitting for Jace, who’s supposed to be the future queen. The color also reminds me of wine, but I worked so hard to make Aegon not an alcoholic that I didn’t want to mention it in the fic 😛.

When Aegon avoids telling Jace his real, dark thoughts, we get a glimpse of how he tries to protect her from bad things in life. This is a point of friction that comes up again in the fic: Aegon thinks it’s best not to tell Jace certain things, and she disagrees.

Jace doesn’t like naps because she thinks they’re a waste of time when she could be doing work 🥲.

When Aegon is in the Tower with Otto, he notices a petition about thugs extorting money from guild members. This is also a reference to the Tyroshi’s doings!

Otto is a neat freak, Aegon knows it, and Aegon takes advantage of it for fleeting moments of malicious glee.

I also have a whole list of old people habits that Otto partakes in. Here, Aegon references Otto’s daily glass of prune juice, but I won’t go into detail about that 🙈. I also imagine Otto taking brisk early morning walks around the Tower, with his elbows pumping in a very old man way, to get his daily cardio in.

I made Otto’s late wife a member of House Mullendore. They’re vassals of the Hightowers, so it’s an acceptable match for a second son. (The Mullendores sided with the Blacks during the Dance, so I’m headcanoning that Otto had a terrible falling-out with them after his wife died.) More importantly, their sigil is a bunch of orange butterflies (see: Helaena’s embroidery that Otto displays in his study). We all know Helaena loves insects, and I feel like this is an extra reason she’s Otto’s favorite: her hobby reminds him of his wife.

Otto is generally happy with how things are going in this verse. Of course he would prefer if Aegon were the heir, but right now he’s guaranteed to have his blood on the throne even if it’s a few generations down the road, and he finds Jace to be reasonable, intelligent, and dutiful. But Otto is still sneaky, because he’s Otto. When he talks about “a royal grandson,” does he mean Rhaenyra’s grandson (baby gets his claim as Jace’s son) or Viserys’s grandson (baby gets his claim as Aegon’s son)? 🧐

Otto supports Jace attending the Small Council because her fate and reputation are closely tied to Aegon’s. If she does well, that reflects well upon her husband. Otto is also aware that if/when Rhaenyra is queen, she’ll want to sack him and send him away from court. But if he maintains a good relationship with Jace, who would be the Princess of Dragonstone at that time, he’ll still be able to retain influence at court not just through Alicent, who would then be dowager queen and less powerful. And if Jace demonstrates herself to be more capable at governance than Rhaenyra (who is less diligent about attending matters of state), Otto isn’t going to say no to that.

Jace knows that Otto has clashed with Rhaenyra in the past and that he has emotionally and physically hurt Aegon, so she doesn’t like Otto as a person. But she appreciates his skill as Hand and respects him professionally. So she’s willing to work with him, but she isn’t leaping at the prospect of spending time with him. And I think that suits Otto just fine. He doesn’t want to be liked, he wants results.

Sorry I couldn’t resist making a “we forgot Daeron existed” joke 🪦.

I really like Aegon and Aemond’s brotherly relationship, and I don’t see nearly enough of it in fics so I had to make my own contribution. Even in the show canon, where Aemond covets the throne and scorns Aegon, he’s still loyal to his brother and they have that brotherly telepathy moment during the last supper. In this verse, they’re much closer but they are still mean to each other in a delightfully sibling fashion. After his relationship with Jace (and eventually Cheeseball), I think Aegon’s relationship with Aemond is his most meaningful relationship in this fic, and I’ll probably keep tugging on it throughout the series.

Aegon won’t admit it but he’s excited to tell his brothers he’s gonna be a dad 🥰.

Daeron spent the last three years in Oldtown, which is the heart of the Faith, so the sex ed he received was very…censored 😅. And since he spent so long thinking that kissing = babies, you can imagine he has a strong reaction when he accidentally kisses Joff later.

Joff has plenty of older sisters (including Baela), and Rhaenyra and Daemon aren’t very quiet at Dragonstone. Thus, Joff figures out how procreation works as a young age 💀.

Aemond does not tell Daeron what a quim is. He tells Daeron to go ask a maester.

As mentioned in Chapter 10, Aegon knows Baela was/is attracted to Jace, and this is a big source of friction between them. But Baela’s never acted on her feelings, and Aegon feels fairly secure in Jace’s affections, so he doesn’t talk about it out loud. But if Baela ever provoked him enough, he would mention it to get back at her (Aegon still has a mean streak, he’s just better at suppressing it).

Helaena’s three egg-shaped beads are a reference to the children she’ll never have in this verse. I’m of the opinion that her prophecies are very vague and mostly vibes (e.g. “he’ll have to close an eye” = she sees Aemond riding a dragon with one eye closed, like an extended wink). So she definitely doesn’t know “ah yes, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and Maelor, who are all going to die terribly,” but she has a sense of the children she would’ve loved and lost in another life. So she’s a bit sad about not having those children in this life, but part of her is relieved she’ll never have to endure the horrible loss and suffering her children’s deaths caused.

“Sunflowers should not be watered with wine.” Helaena compares Jace to the sun (“to the sun I go”), which makes Aegon a sunflower that’s always turning to face the sun. He isn’t an alcoholic here, so he’s thriving more.

“The egg is crowned with gold, and all the creatures love it so.” The egg is Cheeseball, of course. He’s crowned with gold because he’ll be king one day, and gold is his parents’ color. The creatures = dragons, seahorses, towers, etc., all the houses with competing claims to the throne but who all agree that Cheeseball is the future king.

“Buzz, buzz. Your hive has gathered.” Jace is the queen bee, but she’s also constantly working like a bee.

“A lovely summer egg.” Cheeseball is born toward the end of summer. Also a reference to how his future reign will be peaceful and prosperous.

“A beloved egg free from sorrow.” In contrast to Helaena’s children/eggs 🥲.

Helaena’s freak out about the name Jaehaerys is 100% a reference to Blood and Cheese. Again, she doesn’t know exactly what would’ve happened in this alternate universe, but she’s getting very bad vibes from the name.

Jace despairs at the prospect of being coddled for the entire pregnancy, which is exactly what happens…

Laenor wasn’t a paragon of fatherhood but he was more present in this universe. The girls being his actual daughters does affect his feelings for them, and I think he likes having daughters. He would have to help educate and train a son, but he can just spoil and dote on daughters. (Pretty similar to Aegon’s attitude in the beginning of this fic.) So Laenor makes a lot more visits to the nursery when the kids are little, hence Aegon’s familiarity with him.

I wrote the interlude because we see almost all the other siblings’ reactions to the pregnancy, but not Luce. I just couldn’t bring myself to delete it with the other reaction POVs so I kept it in 😅. I justify it by telling myself that it’s important setup for the Baratheon drama later lol (even though at the time I wrote this chapter, I wasn’t sure Floris and Sara were going to die, so this is the author retconning).

Rhaenyra made Jace wait until her sixteenth nameday, so she’s applying that rule to all her daughters: no marriage until you’re sixteen. That’s why Luce has to wait. And if the Baratheon stuff didn’t happen later, it would 100% have been a smart move. Luce is very impulsive, and she and Aemond were clashing for so long, it’s wiser to wait and make sure they’re in this for the long haul and not just acting on hormones.

Aemond had visited Driftmark four times in the past month, which means he’s there every week for several days 😂.

I like to think Daemon told Caraxes to tell Arrax to make sure Luce and Aemond don’t have too much fun 🤭. And for some reason, I imagine Arrax looking a lot like a light fury from How to Train Your Dragon. Big eyes and shiny scales.

Earlier in the chapter, we get a monologue about how Aegon would starve to keep Jace fed. Here, Aemond is literally stealing Luce’s lunch 🤣🤣🤣.

Jace knows her sister super well! That’s why she tells Luce to sit down before she continues the letter: she knows Luce is going to have a strong reaction.

Jace loves all her sisters but I think she’s closest to Luce. They’re less than two years apart in age, and Joff was born four years after Luce, so a lot of Jace’s earliest memories are just the two of them as sisters. Just like how Aemond is one of Aegon’s most important relationships, Luce is one of Jace’s most important relationships.

Chapter 3 commentary here

[ineffablydelighted]

[Re-Angelized Crowley ruling Heaven alongside Supreme Archangel Aziraphale #1 & #2]

You may have encountered this fanfic of mine on Facebook. Time to bring it here! This explores what it would have been if Crowley had accepted to follow Aziraphale in Heaven... Probably Metatron's very own version of Hell... right? 😈

[This is meant to be light and funny - well, at least am I attempting to be. I reserve my deep thoughts for my analysis and I'm just as against our favorite Angel's decision as the next person 😅]

That time the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale had a "big announcement" to make, Day 1

Aziraphale: On this day particularly important for me - I mean, for us all, I have the pleasure to introduce *weird Magishun tone* *already amused by his own pun* or, to re-introduce: Archangel Anthony Crowley!

Crowley: *arrives in all-black attire, already owns the place* Helloooo, suckerssss! Ooookayy, Time to change a thing or two: Beige is out, Black is in! *snaps his fingers because Crowley*

Aziraphale: aka... my husband.

Crowley: *stops in the middle of a twist* Wait, what? Since when?

Aziraphale: *with a both cute and firm smile* Since now. I've decided.

Crowley: *blushes behind his glasses* *shrugs his shoulders**tries to sound cool and detached* M'okay. Works for me.

The crowd: *Too stunned to react*

Aziraphale: A round of applause, please, that would be lovely.

The crowd: *weird applause*

Aziraphale: *innocent yet somewhat demonic smile* Thank you 🤭

When the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale asked the Meeting Room to be repainted in wood shades "because it will feel cozier"

Michael: *about to have a heart attack* *cannot deal with the Jealousy* You cannot be serious?

Uriel: Come on, Michael, it must be a joke... Right?

Metatron: *is waiting for Aziraphale to answer "Yes, of course"*

Crowley: *arrives in style* Have you told them about the yellow lights yet or have I arrived too soon?

Two Angels walk into the New Office That Somehow Looks Like an Old Bookshop to report the news on Armageddon 2.0 - which should have happened two centuries ago - and on how Attempt #451 mysteriously failed.

Crowley: *leans in Aziraphale's seat that looks like an old sofa* And why do they keep talking, exactly?

Aziraphale *holds himself back from rolling his eyes for two centuries* *sympathetic smile* I'm sure you've done your very best to make it work. Thank you.

In the middle of a very important War meeting

Crowley: *sighs* I need a drink, Angel *realizes* *does not care* Yeah, nope, cannot stop calling you that. *To Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, and Metatron* Deal with it, losers. *miracles a glass of Talisker and drinks it as if it were 6 expresso shots in one big mug*

Metatron: *Contemplates the end of his own existence as a valid option for the first time in his Eternity* *So done with their bullshirt since day 1*

Three Angels report on how Attempt #523 mysteriously failed.

Crowley: *straight-up laughing* You heard that, Angel? They didn't do what you asked them to do! *theatrical hand movements* How unusual! How revolutionary! *whispers* Can I hang them by their tiny little fee-T?

Aziraphale: *scandalized look* *high-pitched voice* Of course not!

Crowley: *sighs in childish* Ughhh, I need a drink.

When Archangel Michael makes an appearance

Crowley: Isn't it time we introduce quiet firing, Angel? Also, Micky, I need a towel! *winks at his husband*

That first time Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Archangel Crowley were about to re-enter the Elevator together.

Aziraphale & Crowley: *dressed formally* *Aziraphale loves top hats and convinced Crowley they should both wear one with reversed colors* *arm in arm*

Metatron: *clears his throat* *severe tone because that is the only tone he knows* Where do you think you two are going?

Aziraphale and Crowley: *startle like children caught stealing After Eights way before eight*

Aziraphale: We... hum... We... *looks at Crowley* Weeee thought it would be... hum... good to... hum... go back to Earth to... observe humans and to... hum... to... do... groceries? *innocent smile*

Metatron: *cannot believe his ears* Groceries?

Crowley: You haven't got the faintest idea how many wars and plagues have started in a grocery store, do ya'? *is handsy around Aziraphale's hip for no reason*

Aziraphale: *giggles*

Crowley: Come on, Angel, time to start World War III by pissing off some Karens at the cashier. T'will take what, Supreme Archangel, to kickstart Second Coming, hum? Two days? *puts his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders* *strong grip*

Aziraphale: *looks at Crowley* Oh, hum, maybe a week. *looks at Metatron* Let's not be pretentious.

Crowley: *glasses slightly down revealing his eyes only to his hubby* You mean like Michael?

Aziraphale: *giggles again before tapping Crowley's hand away from his shoulder in order to concentrate* *pretends to be shocked* Don't say that!

Metatron: *trembling voice* But... You cannot go back to Earth!

Crowley: *has NOT removed his hand from Aziraphale's shoulders* Watch us. *walks like Rihanna because Crowley, straight to the elevator*

Later, after the elevator's doors are closed.

Aziraphale and Crowley: *sigh in unison*

Aziraphale: I thought he would erase our names in the Book of Life for a second.

Crowley: Yeahhh, well... The night is still young, Angel. But, for now, time to recharge at the Ritz.

Aziraphale: Remember your promise, right?

Crowley: *pretends to not remember* Hum? Wot?

Aziraphale: You promised you wouldn't drink too much alcohol so that we can go to the Opera after. I need us to see Madam Butterfly sober!

Crowley: And I still strongly disagree with that statement. If I find Laudanum, I'll take a hundred bottles: one for tonight, the other 99 to bear the sight of Killjoy in Chief* for yet another day.

[Oh, I think we all know who Killjoy in Chief is. Obviosleh.]

Crowley: If we ever go back Up.

Aziraphale: *scandalized in type A personality* Of course, we will come back! We have responsibilities!

Crowley: Says the Supreme Archangel *of course he always mentions his hubby's new title ironically* who ASKED for a week on Earth.

Aziraphale: Yes, well... There is no such thing as the concept of vacation in Heaven at the moment, but I will certainly introduce it in a century or two. This is important!

Crowley: Sure.

Aziraphale: *talks in Life Mission* It helps stay productive. And happy!

Crowley: Riiight.

Aziraphale: You know it's true! Stop mocking me!

Crowley: I'm not, I... *freezes*

Aziraphale: What is it? Are you okay? *handsy around Crowley's shoulder*

Crowley: My Bentley is going to be so pissed at me. My baby must be so depressed... *puppy-snake-like eyes*

Aziraphale: I know where this is going... And the answer is no, Crowley. *tries to muster some authority in his tone* *fails*

Crowley: Rahhhh! Come on, Angel! You plan on taking your diaries, your favorite books, and snacks! All I want is a dozen Talisker barrels, my plants, and my car back!

Aziraphale: These things will take too much space, Crowley! What will Metatron say?

Crowley: Tss. Says the Supreme Archangel who dreams of reproducing to perfection his very Earthy Bookshop in Heaven. And has started to do exactly that! You're no fun and you're a hypocrite! An Angel, for short. And a basic* one at that.

[Insert The Good Place Michael who says "It's a human insult. You're devastated right now" gif here - Hey, we're on Tumblr, actually, I can!]

Aziraphale: *crosses his arms like a 5 yo while being 6000+* You too are an Angel, Crowley. You tend to forget about that.

Crowley: I'm not an Angel-Angel, Angel. Do you know why? Because I don't have a whole range of brooms stuck inside my bottom.

Aziraphale: *hurt* *also annoyed* *but mostly hurt* And here I was, thinking we would just spend an amazing week together. *trembling voice* You're the no-fun one, Crowley. *almost about to cry* *avoids eye contact*

Crowley: *notices* *pretends not to care* *holds himself back from thinking how cute Aziraphale's pouty face is* *fails miserably* *growls in defeat* How unfair is that?!

Aziraphale: *pretends not to hear for a second* *turns back to him* *keeps his pouty face steady* What? What is unfair?

Crowley: Nevermind, Angel. *sigh* Alright... I will limit my alcohol consumption to four, maybe five glasses.

Aziraphale: *cutest smile emerges* Thank you 🥰 *happy as in a Mariah Carey Christmas clip* *giggles*

Crowley: *blushes behind his glasses* *takes Aziraphales' arm back*

*Pretty long silence*

Crowley: Seriously, though, Sexy is gonna be so pissed at me.

Aziraphale: *high-pitched voice* OH MY LORD, for Heaven's sake, Crowley, the answer is no! Not another word!

Crowley: She might not want to take us to places, you don't understand how serious that is, Angel! What if she never forgives me? What if... *parent's biggest fear* What if she has been car-napped? Or worse? Ran away on her own? She could be anywhere by now!

Aziraphale: *tries to be reassuring* Well, if she isn't here when we arrive, we can miracle her back, it will be fine, Cro-

Crowley: And hurt her even more, treating her like... like... well, a car? I cannot talk to you when you are delusional like that! You're really pissing me off, *makes childish faces* SuPrEmE ArChAnGeL. *crosses his arms* *looks away*

*New silence*

Aziraphale: What if I allow you to drink as much as you like?

Crowley: *mumbles* Not enough.

Aziraphale: Come on, I need you to meet me halfway!

Crowley: *gritted teeth* Not. Enough.

Aziraphale: *sighs in angry mom* What do you want?!

Crowley: I told you what I wanted. You just don't listen.

Aziraphale: We cannot bring the Bentley to Heaven, Crowley! This is not happening!

Crowley: Then I'm not coming back either. Simple. *shrugs in blackmail*

Aziraphale: *shocked*

Crowley: For the record: when humans get married, Angel, they usually do not reject their spouses' child. You... You're behaving like a nasty mother-in-law right now and I'm not having it.

Aziraphale: Did you just Lady Tremaine-labelled me? For real?!

Crowley: Yep. You're that mean. I cannot believe how quickly your new job had gone to that top hat-ed head of yours.

Aziraphale: ...

Crowley: How career changes people, isn't it just baffling.

Aziraphale & Crowley: *cross their arms and look away at the same time*

*ANOTHER silence*

Aziraphale: *defeated sigh* *literally cannot be mad at his hubby for more than 3 minutes* One Talisker barrel, only the plants that stayed in the Bentley and... the Bentley. IF, and ONLY IF she consents to be... huh... reduced in size a little.

Crowley: *yells in bad faith* Here, have some fatphobia, now! I've seen it all! *points a reproachful finger at his spouse* You're a disappointment, Angel.

Aziraphale: *starting to lose patience* Crowley...

Crowley: Two barrels.

Aziraphale: Do not push your luck, I swear...

Crowley: Have you not noticed I'm winning the argument by now, SuPrEmE aRcHaNgEl?

Aziraphale: This is. Not. About. Winning, Crowley! And it is so unfair you keep our Soirée hostage until you get what you want!

Crowley: I'm a demon, Angel. Demons tend to do that.

Aziraphale: Technically, you aren't anymore!

Crowley: We both know you never technically sent the form to make my re-Angelisation official, so I am technically AND in truth: *marks a pause* Still. A demon.

Aziraphale: Exactly! A nasty mother-in-law would never do such a thing!

Crowley: So?

Aziraphale: A raging bureaucrat either!

Crowley: So?

Aziraphale: And certainly NOT a basic Angel!

Crowley: *annoyed* SO?

Aziraphale: I need you to take that back! That was unfair and BEYOND mean, Crowley! *shaking lips*

Crowley: *growls* *rolls his eyes* FINE. *removes his glasses* Sorry, Angel. It was the worried parent speaking.

Aziraphale: *little smirk Crowley has never seen before* *so ready for his petty revenge* Not. Enough.

Crowley: *finds it super hot* *likes being imitated* *cannot concentrate anymore* You... hum... Okay, what do you want? *is wondering how he went from winning the argument to being a fair loser in a matter of a single no-so-angelic smirk*

Aziraphale: *ready to push his luck* How about... a little dance?

Crowley: Out of the question.

Aziraphale: Crowley...

Crowley: NO.

Aziraphale: Crowley...

Crowley: *feels his determination melt like ice at the heart of Hell* *gritted teeth* Fi-

Elevator: Earth. *neutral ding* *doors opens*

Aziraphale: *takes Crowley's hand in his* *looks at him with soft eyes*

Crowley: *cannot believe a SuPrEMe ArChAnGeL could ever make him swoon**longest sigh* Ughhhh. Let's get this over with.

Aziraphale: *recoils to enjoy the view better*

Crowley:

You were right,

You were right,

I was wrong,

You were righ-T. *sighs* Satisfactory enough, SuPrEmE aRcHaNgEl?

Aziraphale: Thank you, Cinderella. *leaves first in victory*

Crowley: *wants to murder and kiss him at the same time*