#Vestri x you

[bullet-prooflove]

The Rookie Masterlist

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Elijah Vestri Masterlist

John Nolan Masterlist

Ryan Caradine Masterlist

Tim Bradford Masterlist

Wade Grey Masterlist

[monstersighing]

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

AFAB Reader x priest

Content: Blasphemy, priest kink, penetrative sex, creampie, public sex, dirty talk.

Title: Confessional

+++

You go into the confessional box because the young priest fresh from the seminary is there.

You spill out every filthy thought and desire that you’ve had to him. What you think of when you masturbate, how often you do it, how the shame of confessing makes your cunt leak and face burn.

You tell the priest that when you opened your mouth to receive the host from his hand at communion you imagined him pushing his fingers in your mouth to suck on. How the dry host stuck to the roof of your mouth. That you wished it was his plump leaking cock you were tonguing instead.

His breathing gets louder, laboured. You hear a shifting sound of fabric. You can only see an indistinct shadow of the priest through the confessional screen, but he is bent forward, bowed over his lap now. His discomfort and desire fan yours. You clench your thighs around nothing. You tell him that even now, in the midst of your confession, you are imagining new sins you could commit with him: being bent over the altar as his cock slams in you, over and over, your desperate hands clenching the altar covering under you, crying out to God.

When he gives your three rosaries to say to atone, he speaks slowly, stutters. As you leave the confessional you hear a bitten off moan.

You kneel in front of a pew and begin to pray, but before you’re even finished with your first Hail Mary you push a hand down your waistband so you can rub at your clit.

You feel a presence from behind you and the priest is there. He pulls you to your feet, grasps your wrists and pushes your hands down flat onto the pew in front of you. When he grasps your jaw to draw your attention to the altar and the crucified Christ hanging above it, you moan.

“Start again,” he says. “Look at him and repent.” His body is pressed full length behind you. You can feel the hardness of his cock against your back.

You can only say “Please please please.” The priest is holding your face towards the altar, but your begging isn’t directed at God.

“We will do this, we will repent, and then we will both be clean,” the priest says. He grinds his cock slowly against your ass, “There is no way back from this, only through, I think. But we must temper your pleasure with pain, so you learn.” He paws against your tits and then pinches your nipples so pain sparks bright from them. When you cry out, he twists your nipples harder. The pain and the pleasure twist and become one. Your cunt throbs.

The priest pulls down your pants and leaves them trapped over your thighs. You feel him move back for a second, then hear the rasp of his zip. You feel him line up his cockhead with your hole, and then he fucks in with one hard push. Once inside he slams into you fast and desperate, and your legs shake. His fingers bite down hard on your hips. You can hear the slick sound your cunt makes with each plunging stroke of his cock and the slap of skin against skin. You drop your head to your hands and feel as his thrusts become staccato and he spurts inside you with a groan. You come a moment after, on the feeling of cum filling your hole and the priest fucking it deeper with one last grinding push inside you.

He leans forward and whispers against your ear, “Four rosaries now,” he says. “And I’ll see you for private confession in the vestry next week.”

[doumadono]

An absolution - priest!Dabi x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fingering, fem!Reader Synopsis: seeking absolution from a new priest in your parish proves to be a more challenging endeavor than anticipated

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Priest!Dabi is notorious for exploiting the sacred confessional as a means of extracting the deepest, darkest secrets from you. His malicious intent thrives on the vulnerability of those who seek redemption, turning their confessions into a twisted game.

Priest!Dabi, simply asking you within a soft, casual tone, "Are you engaging in self-pleasure, dear child?"

Your eyes expand as his inquiry settles into your thoughts. Stammering, you attempt to respond, "I… I…"

A gentle chuckle resonates from within the concealed darkness of the confessional. "There's no need to be bashful. Vulnerability is inherent in human nature, and everyone grapples with it, sooner or later. Confess," he urges, his encouragement echoing through the shadowed enclosure.

With a flush on your cheeks and your heart racing, you hesitantly admit to every self-inflicted act, burdened by the weight of vocalizing the myriad things you've done to yourself. The weight of guilt persists, exacerbated by the contemplation that had your family been privy to the depths you've explored, they would have cast their curses upon you ages ago.

Priest!Dabi whose words are laced with a malevolent charm. He preaches salvation with a wicked glint in his eyes, enticing you with promises of absolution, all while harboring his own sinister agenda.

Unbeknownst to you, priest!Dabi discreetly palms himself through the fabric of his dark trousers. The sound of your soft voice uttering those explicit phrases has a palpable effect on him, stirring desires he can't deny.

"What shall be my atonement?" you inquire, your voice trembling. "I repent for my actions, Father."

Dabi grins to himself. "You'll accompany me, my child."

As he exits the confessional, he motions for you to follow him to the vestry. You feel a sense of confusion but obediently trail behind him.

Priest!Dabi, a recent addition to your community, is already infamous for his unconventional methods. Despite the unsettling rumors, you choose to remain open-minded.

In the vestry, priest!Dabi firmly shuts the door behind you. You instinctively fold your hands in front of you, a subtle tremor coursing through you as you hesitate to meet his intimidating gaze.

He motions for you to occupy the seat beside him on a modest couch, and you comply, the unease palpable as you settle into the space next to him.

"You've sinned," priest!Dabi intones, his words a chilling whisper that reverberates through the sacred space. "You've strayed from the path of righteousness," he continues, each syllable enunciated with a deliberate gravity. "Now, my child," he says with measured solemnity, "I shall grant you a shrift."

Priest!Dabi who casually rests his hand on your knee, softly rubbing it with his thumb, gradually sliding his hand upward.

"Father Touya," you whisper, cheeks flushed, your gaze fixed on him without a blink. Your heart races, pounding within your chest like a captive creature yearning for escape.

Priest!Dabi who whispers, "Shhhh, shhhh, it's fine, my child. I'm not going to hurt you."

You attempt to close your legs, but his firm hand prevents any movement. "The only way to absolve your sins is to allow my consecrated hands to touch you," priest!Dabi declares, his voice unwavering.

You glance up at his scarred face but quickly avert your eyes as his unwavering gaze intersects with yours.

Before you fully grasp the situation, his rough palm cups you through your panties. A small whimper escapes you as the cold, sharp edges of staples on his hand graze against your tender skin as the fabric is pushed aside in the process.

"Hush now, no need to be shy, little Y/N," he soothes, his surprisingly gentle voice accompanied by slender fingers daringly exploring your soft folds.

A soft sigh escapes your parted lips.

"Look at me," he commands, his tone a touch rougher this time. His thumb and forefinger lift your chin, compelling you to meet his piercing turquoise gaze.

Despite the inner awareness that this shouldn't be unfolding, you reluctantly acquiesce. Your gaze meets his, a silent glare, as you breathe heavily. The trust you hold in him, the priestly figure, reassures you that he wouldn't guide you toward forbidden desires, or so you hope.

Priest!Dabi who skillfully massages your clitoris with his thumb while two of his fingers slowly slip inside you. He grins a little, attempting to keep a serious face. "You see, my child, there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing here. Just look how your body reacts."

"Father Touya, this is wrong…" you whisper, yet a part of you decides to spread your legs a little wider to grant him a better access.

In a short span of time, his long fingers explore your pussy with finesse, leaving you breathless in close proximity to his awaiting lips. "Father Touya..." you pant.

He quickens his pace, his fingers moving with nimble urgency, the heel of his palm exerting firm pressure against your mound. The painful graze of the staples against the delicate flesh adds an edgy sensation to the entire thing, making you whine quietly. An instinctual whisper urges you to engage in the rhythmic motion of rolling your hips. It is an intuitive response, driven by an innate craving for the friction that promises a profound sense of satisfaction. Yielding to this urge, you find yourself succumbing to the compelling dance of desire, raising and lowering your hips slightly in the rhythm of his thrusts.

Priest!Dabi gently grazes the tip of his tongue across your lips, his fingers curling within your pussy with an unspoken intensity, massaging your spongy walls. "You're excelling, my dear child. There's no need for shame - you can come."

His resonant and alluring voice resonates, casting a spell that ignites a fervent response within you. The culmination manifests as a visceral release as you cum all over his long fingers, coating them with your slick, runny essence. "Father..." you whine, your tone quivering.

He murmurs, "There, there," gently caressing the back of your neck with his long digits. Withdrawing his fingers, he theatrically brings them to his lips, delicately licking them clean, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze locked onto yours. He delivers a few spanks to your slick pussy, and then with a subtle finesse, Dabi enhances the arrangement of your undergarments, veiling your exposed folds beneath the soft fabric once more.

Your face is still tinged with red as you instinctively close your legs, folding your hands in your lap, feeling a twisted, pulsating sensation growing inside you. "Will I… Will I get forgiveness, father?"

He smiles at you, slowly nodding his head as he adjusts himself in his crotch; the material of his black pants is visibly tented. "My dear Y/N, your sins weigh heavily, and you'll need to make amends for absolution," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes darkened by pure lust. "Come see me tomorrow, and I'll consider what actions can help cleanse your past sins."

tagging some wonderful folks who might enjoy this one: @shonen-brainrot @bakugoscunny @viburnt @dabis-vigilnate-girl @dabismoon @dabislittlemouse @indignant-alpaca

[orshii]

Guilty Pleasure - Follow You (Part 2)

✟ Pairing: Choi San x female reader ✟ Word count: 6k ✟ Warnings: cursing, suggestive, mentions of death, blood

✟ Summary: You go back to your hometown for the summer vacation, not expecting the small town's priest to be a total eye candy. But he seems to be hiding dark secrets underneath his holy façade.

Will you find out the truth?

✟-First Part-✟

✟ A/N: Heeyy, so here is the long-awaited part 2 of this story. When I first wrote it I would've never thought it was going to head this way, but it happened and we finally know all the dark secrets of Priest San and why is he acting like this. Also, Yunho and Mingi appear in this story as well, and they are from @bvidzsoo's Who Am I fanfiction, it's happening in the same world but the mention of it is just slight. I find it funny and exciting to write in the same world lol, as in the future that is going to happen more often if she is in hehe. Anyways, read part 1 before reading this to understand everything. Tyy, byee! (Also I'm obsessed with this song again, and it matches the vibes of the story so I recommend listening to it)

         I was sitting on the church’s brown bench again as I watched the familiar face who was standing in front of the altar with the Bible in hand and a rosary strolling around his veiny hands the familiar cross hanging on his chest, as he was preaching for the people who came to the church on a bright Sunday morning.

People need to hear some reassuring thoughts about their God so they are going to feel less burdened about the sins they have committed. As if going to church will liberate them from the bad things they all did. Including me, that had the biggest sin anyone had in this church.

And that was—sleeping with the priest who was standing in the middle of the church, trying to motivate the people who came and prayed for their freedom. His sharp but innocent-looking eyes never met mine. Maybe he felt guilty about the sins we committed or he was pretending like I did not exist.

Two weeks went by since that night. And I barely saw Choi San, the priest of the town I grew up in, well he wasn’t a priest, he just pretended to be one, because he had some dark secrets that he did not share with me. After we slept together—some not-so-innocent images popped up in my mind, as he looked down at me, hovering over me, whispering some dirty thoughts into my ears that made me commit any sins that existed. The way his hands ran through my thighs up and down as he made me feel good with a burning desire in his eyes. That night I just cut all my sanity and gave in my guilty pleasure, and so did San—But after that night we did not speak. We had met a few times at the store or at the servings he held, but he pretended like nothing happened and it made me feel uneasy.

Why did he pretend like nothing happened? Was I just a one-night stand to satisfy his needs as it was rare for him to find someone who is in for a fuck with a priest? But in reality, he wasn't even a priest and I still did not know what he was doing here, and why he pretended to be one.

And as I watched him standing in front of the altar, the hall as quiet as the church's mouse, in his long black vestment his eyes observing the people sitting in front of him, I had enough of this game and I needed to talk with him.

When the mass ended, I waited until the church emptied, pretending to pray a little longer. I needed this moment, especially since my thoughts during the service had been less than innocent. Once everyone had left, I stood up and made my way to the vestry room where San always prepared for the mass.

As I entered the room, I saw San speaking with an old man. He was smiling, his dimples showing—a rare sight since he was always so serious with me. His hands rested on the old man's shoulders as he reassured him, promising to pray for the man's sick wife. It was kind of him, revealing a caring and warm side to his personality. But I knew it was all an act. He fooled these people with promises he couldn't keep because he wasn't the person they thought he was.

When the man finally turned, I smiled at him and bowed a little when he passed by me, leaving the two of us in the room. San just glared at me with his sharp eyes, his dimples disappearing the moment the old man left the room.

"Hi," I said as I walked further inside leaning against a table that was full of crosses and Bibles, on the walls there were a few glorious paintings and a closet in the corner of the room where the priest's vestments were hanging. I looked at San with crossed arms in front of my chest.

"Hey," he said, not even meeting my eyes as he turned his back to me. He began taking off the black vestment he was wearing, revealing an ironed white shirt and black pants underneath. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" I said as I stared at his wide shoulders where my nails drew blood a few weeks ago.

He folded his black vestment and put it into the closet. Then he turned around to face me as he leaned against the closet mirroring my position. His eyes scanned me up and down. "I'm being watched. I have to pretend everything is normal and fulfill my priest duties," he said in a low voice, his expression unreadable. 

I scoffed. "So, I do not deserve at least an explanation?" I lifted my hands questioning him. "You can't keep fooling these people, they really trust you San. Some people would give their life into your hands."

He pushed himself off the closet and slowly approached me with predator's eyes. "I know, I hate to do this, but I have to. I can explain everything. Let's meet at the cemetery tonight." He said as he stood in front of me, he hovered above me, making me feel small. His eyes, burning with intensity, stared into mine, lighting up even in the dimly lit room.

"A cemetery? Really?" My brows furrowed in disbelief.

"Yes, I want to show you something." He stepped closer to me, even though we barely had space between us, his hands squeezing my waist tightly.

"First you kidnap me to an abandoned mansion, and now you want to take me to a cemetery? Are you planning to hide my body in a used coffin?" I folded my arms in the narrow space between us.

He hummed, leaning close to my face, his lips brushing against mine. "I want to do other things with your body, and they're far from innocent," he whispered as his thin lips moved to my bare neck, leaving slight kisses along the way. My lips parted, my body growing hotter, and my heart pounded with uncontrollable desire. I gripped the table behind me, trying to pull away, but he held me in place, not letting me escape. 

His hands on my waist pulled me flush against his body, one of his hands traveling up to my jaw as he held it and pulled me closer to his parted lips. "You are my guilty pleasure." He whispered the words onto my lips as his thumb traced over the bottom of my lip. I couldn't control my body or my thoughts, so I just gave control to him. His familiar candy-like scent drove me crazy, making me lose my mind.

Then I felt his lips crush onto my lips, which immediately parted letting his tongue in as it discovered my mouth. This feeling was too familiar yet too strange. I felt like all of this was wrong, I didn't know anything about him, yet I was here kissing him like he was the love of my life.

His lips moved against mine, meanwhile, his hands discovered my body that was flushed against his, I wrapped my hands around his neck like it was in a script of a movie, all of this felt so natural but inhuman at the same time. While he was kissing me, his hands traveled down to the back of my tights just to lift me to the table, swiping the things off from the top so I could sit. He was standing in between my legs that I wrapped around his small waist. His hands brushed against the top of my thighs up to my back where his hands ended up in my hair as he ran his fingers through my dark strings.

The desire that lit my heart in that moment was endless, I felt like it could never burn out, but I couldn't let this go further. After all, we were still in a church… I slowly pulled away from him a string of saliva still connecting our lips from our passionate kiss as San captured my lips in a deep possessive kiss again, pulling me into a more rushed kiss, sucking my lower lip between his teeth, as my hands were on his pumped-up chest trying to push him away carefully.

He leaned his forehead against mine as we both breathed heavily. "I want you," He whispered in between quick breaths.

"We are in a church," I whispered back as my eyes met his, our eyes mirroring the same desire we felt for each other.

He nodded with a slight smile, as his lips met mine again, leaving a long peck on my warm lips. "I have to go, meet you at the cemetery at 8 p.m. darling." He left a kiss on the corner of my mouth and with that he left me there sitting on the table, the crosses and Bibles on the floor scattered, making me want to run away as quickly as possible from there, and I face-palmed myself mentally for being this high over heels for a man, who made me forget humans had sinned and that needed forgiveness.

I parked my car in the cemetery’s parking lot, the sun was slowly settling down, to hide behind the hills that hugged the town around. The weather was quite chilly, as it was already the end of summer, early autumn knocking on the door to let them in. This change of season meant I would soon have to return to where I lived and resume teaching the children who counted on me. I didn't want to let them down.  

When I stepped inside the cemetery goosebumps ran through my body. The sun was barely shining, leaving me in a quiet and dark cemetery that was swimming in mist. I heard some weird noises that I couldn't comprehend. Perhaps it was a bird nesting in the branches or a squirrel scurrying up and down the tree trunks. I stood frozen at the entrance, hesitant to venture deeper into the eerie yet noisy cemetery. There were a lot of gravestones and some flowers that were long withered.

Then I gathered all my courage and stepped deeper into the cemetery not knowing where should I wait for San. The cemetery slowly swallowed me as I went deeper, the graves forming a labyrinth around me.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps, but I couldn't tell which direction they came from. My heart was beating wildly, and I was frozen in place, my legs refusing to move. Then, I felt hands on my waist from behind, squeezing me. I jumped and let out a small scream.

"Holy shit San, don't do this again." I felt relieved as I turned around and saw his face where the curves of his lips were up his dimples on the sight.

"Sorry," He chuckled as he saw my terrified face. "You seemed lost in here, darling." His hands were still on my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

"Of course, it's not me who comes to the cemetery daily to bury random people." I squinted my eyes looking up at him and I noticed he was in casual clothes that was a black T-shirt, glued to his chest and broad shoulders, the familiar cross hanging on his pumped-up chest, the T-shirt paired with black sweatpants. He looked so comforting in normal clothes I wanted to hug him so badly.

He giggled, seeming genuinely happy—a rare sight to see him smile in a way that wasn't fake. His hands reached for mine, interlacing our fingers. "Come, I want to show you something," he said.

He began pulling me along by our interlaced hands, guiding me through the maze of graves and random sculptures of fallen angels that I didn’t quite understand. I realized there were many things about this small town that I didn't know, despite having grown up here.

Suddenly, San stopped, and I bumped into his broad back, feeling as if I had collided with an unbreakable wall. As I looked around, I saw we were standing in front of a grave that was unique—nothing like the others. It was crafted with care, adorned with fresh flowers in two vases on the ground, and featured graceful curves with winged decorations. I had never seen anything like it before. I turned to look at San, who stood next to me, gazing down at the grave with a look of deep grief.

"This is my grandmother's grave." He said with a low voice still holding my hand as I stood next to him. I nodded and caressed his shoulders signaling I was here next to him. "She raised me with my grandpa. My parents passed me to them when I was little. We have not heard about them since then." He sighed and sat down in front of his grandma's grave pulling up his legs to his chest and resting his elbows on his knees. I followed him and sat close to him and ran my hand up his back my fingers slowly combing through his raven-black hair. I wanted to be there with him, I wanted him to know I was by his side no matter what.

He was staring at his hands in front of him as he continued. "So, I was growing up here until I was eighteen, that was the time I left the town so I could study more."

"How come I don't remember you? I was growing up here, yet I never seen you." I asked with a frown.

His lips curved a little. "Well, I changed a lot. I was a weak and not-so-social little boy, maybe that is why." He tilted his head towards my direction to look at me with a slight smile. As I pouted trying to remember the boy he was describing. "If it helps you more, my grandfather was the priest before me." He smiled at me looking at my face, my eyes going wide at the realization.

"No way, you are the mysterious grandchild of Father John? Oh my God." I looked at him as I couldn't believe it. "Look at you, now being strong and independent." I squeezed his biceps as he chuckled. But then his expression turned serious.

"So, the thing is, I don't know where is my grandfather." His gaze went back to the grave in front of us.

"What? Isn't he retired?" I asked him a little confused.

"No, he had this year to complete, and he wanted to retire next year. I came to visit him, but he was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere, but there was no trace. Then, one day, these guys came after me and mentioned a 200-year-old golden relic that my grandpa owned, worth millions. " He glanced at me briefly as he spoke. 

"Those were the guys who chased us?" I asked him, trying to stay calm, it was a lot of information to process, as I remembered the night someone was chasing us with a black car, that night led us to San’s mansion.

"Yes, it's a mafia gang. They call themselves The Boyz and their leader is Sunwoo. One day they cornered me and told me they captured my grandpa and they were going to kill him if I don't tell them, where is the cup." His voice was full of rage as I watched his sharp side profile as he gritted his teeth. "When you saw me negotiate with some guys the other day, it was another gang called Ateez, their leader is Kim Hongjoong and I turned to them to ask for help. But the only way they agreed was that I give them the cup to keep it safe because they were famous for collecting different kinds of relics, and I agreed because I couldn't save my grandpa alone… I gave them money to help me but they only told me they were going to come when needed. And since that, I never saw them. So, it was a waste of time and I don't know if my grandpa is still alive." He sighed weakly in frustration, the burning rage slowly fading out of his eyes.

I ran my finger through my hair trying to calm down and think straight. "Do you know where is the cup?"

"Yes," He looked at me his eyes full of sadness alongside revenge. "We are sitting on it."

I frowned at that, looking around in confusion. "Where?"

"It's in my grandma's coffin."

My jaw hung open as I looked at the grave in front of us. "So, what will you do?"

"I don't know, Y/N…" He ran his fingers through his hair stressed. "I don't know what to do, what is the right choice I'm all by myself—"

"Hey," I said, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his hair. I moved in front of him so I could look directly into his eyes. "I'm here. You're not alone, San." Kneeling between his spread legs, I cupped his face in my hands. "We'll figure this out together, okay?" I gazed into his eyes as I rested my forehead against his. 

He nodded and enveloped me in his strong arms and legs while I remained kneeling, almost making me disappear in his embrace. "Thank you so much, Y/N." He whispered into my ears his voice going weak. The familiar scent of candy hugged me tight, giving me a comfort that I didn't even know I needed.

Then San pulled away as his hands cupped my face. "I want you to be by my side…I want to be with you, but I'm scared you might get hurt in the process. I have a difficult life, Y/N…especially now…I don't know if I can keep you safe." He whispered as his gaze never left mine, his eyes welling up with tears.

I traced my thump on his cheek, where a teardrop escaped his eyes and wiped it away. "I'm going to be okay, it's easier to fight together than alone, right?" My lips curved up a little, giving him comfort.

He smiled at me emotionally, as his finger reached towards my hair, brushing a string behind my ear. "You are so beautiful and perfect, my darling. I don't deserve you." His eyes beamed caring and unlimited love, which made my heart twist painfully, but that pain was good, it whispered good things for the future.

"You do deserve someone by your side. And I want to be that person." I whispered back, leaning close to his face. When his lips met mine, it felt like he was kissing me for the hundredth time, yet each kiss still felt like the very first. It wasn't rushed, it was careful and warm, we sealed our lips together as a promise to protect the other no matter what. Something in my heart started to grow and it felt right for the first time in my life. But then a voice interrupted our promise to each other. 

“Well, well—the love birds are hiding in the cemetery. How romantic,” a voice said from behind us. I glanced over San’s shoulder and saw five men standing there, their eyes fixed on us with a predatory gaze.

San immediately got up and hid me behind his broad shoulder, his arms out in a protective manner. He looked like he was the mountain that hid people from danger. "Sunwoo…what do you want?" Sunwoo—then he was the leader of The Boyz… they were after the cup and we were standing right above it.

"Wasn't I clear enough on that?" I peeked out from the safety of San's back and saw the man who was speaking, he had foxlike eyes and black hair, and all of them were wearing leather jackets with ripped jeans, making them disappear into the darkness of the cemetery. I could barely count how many of them were still hiding in the dark.

Suddenly I heard hustling from behind and I had no time to react, all I felt was a hand around my neck and that pulled me away from San, a sharp, cold thing replacing the strange hand. San turned towards me, looking at the man behind me with sharp, glaring eyes. "Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!" He shouted as he tried to attack the man who held a knife to my neck. From the sudden movement, the knife went deeper into my skin, as blood streamed down my neck like tears. But San had no chance as the leader caught him in no time and held a gun to the back of his head. "Don't try to act like a hero, or she'll die," Sunwoo mumbled into San's ear.

I couldn't process what was happening, my heart was pumping loudly in my ear, and I barely heard what was happening. My vision was on San the whole time, whose eyes were staring at me, trying to give me some strength that I needed at that moment. I breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down, but as I lifted my chest to breathe the sharp knife dug deeper into my skin, making me panic at the sudden pain.

"If you tell us, where the fuck is that cup, I'm going to tell you where is your old man and we won't kill this sweetheart." The leader nodded towards me with a perverted smile. I wanted to throw up from the pain and the faces they all made while looking at me.

I met San’s gaze again; he was signaling that he was about to make a move. In a sudden burst of action, he spun around, grabbed the gun that was pressed against his head and punched the man in front of him who fell to the ground. At the sudden movements, the man behind me lost the grip of the knife and I immediately kicked him in the balls and he hunched over immediately from the sudden pain. San ran towards me and held me by both sides of my shoulders. "You have to run, Y/N! Drive to the mansion and wait for me there, please!" He said hurriedly, as the other men were running towards us. Fuck, I had no chance there, but I did not want to leave him alone.

He saw my face as I hesitated a little, "I promise I'm going to find you, darling. Just go!" He begged me as the man behind him gripped his shoulder trying to hit him. I wanted to scream and shout at the men who attacked him, but I needed to run and get some help for him. San was fighting with the two men, punching them and trying to dodge their movements.

Then I got an idea, San had no chance against a bunch of people we were surrounded by, it was impossible, so I needed to distract a few of them. The ones behind my back were walking towards me because they knew I had no chance, but I quickly jumped over a grave and started to run so they were going to get far away from San. I needed to reach my car, but navigating through the graves was difficult in the dark; I could only make out vague shapes.

 I jumped over several gravestones and tried to be as quick as I could and try to distract them, hoping one of them was going to get lost in the dark mist, trying to move quickly and create enough confusion that maybe one of them would get lost in the darkness. Then I heard gunshots—lots of them. The sound made me stumble, and I fell to the ground, feeling a surge of fear and wanting to cry. "San," I whispered, still on the ground as the men behind me closed in. I couldn't let them catch me, for San, I needed to gather my strength and get help for him. So, I stood up with determination and started to run towards the exit. 

When I finally arrived at a trail that led me to the exit, I felt relieved as the adrenaline gave me a burst of power, making me run faster as I looked behind me. Three men were running after me, the fourth probably gave up on chasing me, or he did get lost in the labyrinth of the cemetery.

I ran through the exit and quickly sat in my car. I fired the engine, the lamps lit up and the three men were standing in front of my car, their faces like the devil's, smiling in success as they trapped me. But I was in a car, and I had the advantage of simply using it as a weapon. The engine of the car roared up as I hit the gas pedal and the car speeded towards them. Two of the men managed to jump out of the way, but the third wasn't as fortunate.

He leaped onto the hood of my car, trying to avoid the impact. He looked at me with killer eyes through the windshield as I was still speeding, but then I hit the break and he stumbled forward, hitting the ground with a loud thump. I hoped he wasn’t seriously injured—or worse.

I was frozen for a moment as I tried to think what to do, my breathing was loud and heavy, and blood pumped in my ears. Then I looked to my right and saw a baseball bat lying on the floor. I had kept it in the car for situations just like this. Why not use it? I couldn't just leave here San; I promised him we were going to fight together.

So, I grabbed the bat and opened the car door. The man I had hit was groaning on the ground, clearly in pain but still alive. The other two men were running towards me as I held up the baseball bat preparing to defend myself as they approached.

But then, I heard a loud engine sound and all I saw was a big, black jeep, hitting the two men that were running towards me. It all happened so quickly. The jeep stood in quiet for a moment, the front a little broken from the impact and smoke coming up from the engine.

Then someone opened the passenger door and a tall man got out of it, whom I barely saw in the dim lights of the parking lot. The other door opened as well, and another tall figure stepped out, both of them heading in my direction. I held up the baseball bat again because I did not know if I could trust these men.

"We are here to help." The one with the soft features raised his hands in the air.

"Who are you?" I asked them, gathering all the strength I had left.

"I'm Jeong Yunho, Kim Hongjoong sent me to help San." He is Song Mingi, we came to help." The tall boy came closer to me and reached his hands to shake hands, his features full of kindness.

"We don't have time for this, San is in the cemetery and we got attacked, he needs help." I started to panic as I did not hear anything after the gunshots.

"Mingi stay with her, she is injured, I'm going to find San! " Yunho said with a serious expression on his face as he was speaking to the other guy, whose expression was bored as he leaned against my car folding his arms. Then Yunho ran towards the entrance of the cemetery as the dark swallowed him.

I leaned against my car, waiting impatiently for Yunho and San to come, I tried to go after them a few times but Mingi stopped me all the time, saying 'Let them do their job'.

After half an hour that I spent worrying about San, their dark figure finally appeared from the cemetery as Yunho was holding San by the waist and San's hands were clinging around Yunho's neck. I hurried in front of them quickly, San seemed injured.

"San-ah, are you okay?" I cupped his face, which was a little beaten up, with a few cuts on his lips, and on his cheekbones.

"I'm okay, darling, I'm okay," he whispered as he released Yunho and pulled me into a protective embrace. When he gently pulled me away, his eyes roamed over me from head to toe, checking for any injuries. His gaze finally landed on my neck.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He traced the cut on my neck with great care, where the blood had already dried—I had already forgotten about my wound. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on the wound, sending shivers through my body. 

I shook my head as a no. "It's not that deep."

He tilted his head up looking into my eyes with anger. "I'm glad I killed those motherfuckers." My heart started to race at that, it was a new side of him, that I did not see until now. It did scare me, but at the same time, I knew he had no other choice than to kill them. It was a choice between him and them, and clearly, the better option was for San to survive. 

"Okay you love each other we get it," Yunho clasped his hands together, making me remember they were also there. "But we should hurry if you want to save your old man, San."

"Where is he?" San asked turning towards the two tall men, both leaning against the car. San's eyes were full of determination.

"Right now, as our people told us, he is in a building that is going to explode in like…" Yunho looked at his watch on his wrist. "…10 minutes." He said casually.

"Then why are we even here, let's go!" San said, already forgetting he was injured, as we sat into the black jeep, the guys already gone that they hit.

As we made our way to the building, I cuddled up to San’s side. He caressed my back and ran his fingers through my hair, whispering how proud he was of me for standing up to the bad guys and staying by his side. Even if I had the choice, I wouldn't have it any other way. I knew I was meant to be with San, and I never wanted to leave him.

When we arrived at the building, which was about to explode, I stayed in the car despite my urge to join them. I figured it would be easier for them if I stayed behind. Nervously biting my nails, I watched the clock ticking down to the explosion—just 2 minutes remaining—and they were still nowhere to be seen.

I couldn’t stay still. I stepped out of the car and paced back and forth in front of it, my anxiety making it impossible to remain in one place. 

1 minute - nothing

30 seconds - nothing

I was on the verge of running into the building just before it was about to explode when I saw four figures run through the entrance the moment the building exploded. The moment the building erupted, a burst of orange filled the dark air pieces of the building everywhere in the air, which landed in a rain-like form on the ground with a loud thump as the explosion shook the ground.

I lost sight of the figures running as I held my arm out forming a shield. Bits of concrete and debris struck me, and some landed on the car. When the building caught on fire I looked around to search for them.

But I saw no one in between the burning pieces. I walked closer, as I spotted them between two big concrete pieces that fell from the building. As I ran to them, I saw that San held his grandfather on his lap, crying as Yunho and Mingi were kneeling beside them, Yunho's hands on San's shoulder trying to calm him down.

I speeded next to San my hands on his back, as I looked down at his grandfather. His abdomen was full of blood, his T-shirt long soaked with red, his chest unmoving, and his eyes were glassy, a single teardrop falling towards his temple as he was staring up at the sky full of stars, with no reaction in his eyes. He left us.

"I couldn't save him," San's voice came out and stumbled as he was sobbing, holding his grandfather's dead body. His grandfather raised him and made his grandchild the most caring and passionate human on earth. He fulfilled his job and it was time for him to leave us behind.

I hugged San as he was sobbing into my neck, still careful not to hurt the wound on my neck. I whispered to him some reassuring thoughts that slowly calmed him down. Yunho and Mingi waited for us patiently to calm down so we could talk about the cup that was the cause of this turmoil that ended with the death of San's grandfather.

 It is interesting to think about how humans are capable of anything just because of a two-hundred-year-old relic that was worth millions—even billions. They do not realize the value of a human's soul; it is higher than the paper that is worth—perhaps millions.

A human's soul is worth the universe which has more value than a piece of paper. But people are greedy and they do not care if someone gets lost along the way. They only see the gold and money, that keeps them going, not caring about burning the world along the way.

This is why San decided to entrust the cup to Yunho, whom he trusted deeply. San knew Yunho was a man of his word, reliable, and always present when help was needed. As we handed the cup over to them just before they left, Yunho's final words were:

"Welcome to Ateez."

With that, they drove away with the cup, leaving behind a trail of trouble but also opening the door to a mysterious future with the gang Ateez. 

-1 month later-

"That's all," San said as he closed the rear door of the car, clasping his hands together as we were in front of his mansion, I needed to go back because the summer vacation ended.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" I asked still unsure of why would he come with me back to where I was living.

He stepped closer to me as he grabbed my waist, one of his right hands cupping my cheek as his thumb traced it with care. "I have nothing left here." He whispered resting his forehead against mine. "I'm going to follow you, wherever you go."

"Promise me you'll never leave my side," I whispered, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions that suddenly hit me.

"I promise, darling." He whispered looking into my eyes. "I love you," He cupped my face, his eyes full of sincerity and passion that burned with flaming desire.

I held his wrist that held my face as I left a feather-like kiss on his wrist. "I love you too, San" I smiled at him with all the warmth in my heart, gazing at him as if he was my entire world—and it wasn’t a lie. He truly was my world, and I was committed to following him wherever he went. From the moment I saw him, I knew we were destined for each other. 

Then he kissed me carefully his lips moving against mine in a possessive way, like he wanted to ensure I was his forever, his hands pulling me closer to him, locking me in, as if I wanted to run away from him, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I kissed him back reassuring him I was never going to leave him.

Our story had only just begun, and I was eager to discover what destiny had in store for us. The red strings bound us together to connect us so we could fight the obstacles that life would throw our way. It was easier to fight against the bad things when you had someone by your side.

Choi San had me, and I had Choi San—together, we were ready for whatever came next. 

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: -

Words: 2.1k

[A/N: I'm alive, alas. Slowly getting back into writing, so bear with me as this one is a bit clunky. (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @zaunitearchives

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IV. 

The unadorned walls were bare , save for a few peeling patches of paint, and the hanging crucifix was now slightly askew, the squashing emptiness swallowing him as the corners of the room seemed to stretch into infinity. The moonlight shifted, casting a new set of shadows that seemed to twist and writhe like the memories of her that haunted him, and in the quiet of the night, dawn approaching, he drifted asleep, his dreams hollow, bereft, and yearning for something that was no longer. 

The pale gray hue of the morning filtered through Viktor’s eyelashes, painfully morphing into colorful blobs of light inside his eyelids. He lay still, dreading the image of his enclosure in fear of what he might see. When he shifted slightly on the mattress, fully expecting that—now familiar—stinging pain, it was the absence of it that startled him into opening his eyes.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, head in his hands, trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered memories of the previous night. The crucifix on the wall was as perfectly symmetrical as it had been. His clothes from the previous day lay neatly folded, not discarded in a moment of despair but meticulously placed. 

Viktor forced himself to stand, each movement sluggish and weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. He wandered to the window, looking out at the city below. The world outside continued to move, indifferent to his confusion. He turned back to the room, and the vertical rays of sunlight reflected over the wooden door were a cruel mirror of the oppressive feeling inside him.

"It was just a dream. Heavens above, a nightmare rather," he whispered to himself, desperate to cling to that hope. 

He sank to the floor, his back against the wall and his good knee drawn up to his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her voice, her touch, and the way she spoke to him. But the images were already starting to blur into oneiric shards of memory, delusory scenes that he had made up to cope with whatever bizarre day he had experienced. He had open arms to accept this as fact, but then he looked askance for what should have been less than a second—a hand’s distance away from him, on the floor—and something reflected a small flicker of light in his direction. 

A frail little piece of copper, with a symbol etched on it, was no stranger to him. 

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

The coin was left there, untouched, and Viktor quickly stood up, got dressed, and made his way to the chapel with the intention of seeking confession. Ignoring something has never been proven to make it disappear, but he believed in so many things that had no proof. What's one more day to a life sentence? As he approached the vestry, he heard voices—a gruff, authoritative one and another, softer and more submissive.

Pushing open the door quietly, Viktor saw Father Isidore standing on a small platform, his arms outstretched as a tiny, stooped old man adjusted the fit of a new set of robes. 

"Careful, you fool," Father Isidore snapped, glaring down at the old man who fumbled with the hem. 

The old man mumbled an apology, his hands trembling as he continued his work. Father Isidore's mitre rose high, a stately crown of pristine white, adorned with intricate gold embroidery that glinted with each subtle movement. The patterns weaved a tapestry of reverence and power, a fitting halo for one chosen to serve the divine, at the cost of what could probably feed a family for an entire year. Below, his chasuble cascaded in folds of rich golden yellow, a hue that caught the light and transformed it into a soft glow. This garment, heavy with the weight of the vows of poverty they had both made, bore elaborate designs that told false stories of faith and sanctity. 

The bitter taste of resentment came back to Viktor’s throat. He had come here to confess his own misgivings, but now he was confronted with a deeper, more troubling disquiet. And as acrimony poisoned his heart once more, he felt a small, cold hand resting on his shoulder. His skin prickled, and a cold sweat began to form on his brow. He felt her presence—an unnerving familiarity that made his heart pound in his chest. The air around him seemed to grow colder, the light dimmer. He tried to shake off the feeling, attributing it to his own inner turmoil, but it clung to him, persistent and insidious.

A whisper, soft yet piercing, curled into his ear like a serpent. 

“What a despotic panoply of gold and moral deviance—so much for humility and sacrifice,” her voice whispered in his ear. "I, too, would feel betrayed.” 

Viktor’s eyes darted to his left and right, noting the people before him. He couldn't afford to alarm them; he couldn't let them see his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to remain still. A bead of sweat trickled down Viktor’s temple. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He knew she sought to unnerve him and break his spirit. Summoning every ounce of his will, he started to pray in his mind, each word a lifeline in the gathering darkness.

“ Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me. Confundántur et revereántur… ” he started, pulling the string of words from a distant memory. 

“Haven’t we established that your god does not listen to your prayers, Viktor?”

Her voice rang loud and clear to him, but the unmoving expressions of the two men before him made it apparent that they could not hear her. “. ..quaeréntes ánimam meam. Avertántur retrórsum et confundántur, cogitántes míhi mála.” He continued, now fearing he had gone insane.

“Never you mind, my sweet. I’ll be gone again soon, but first, I thought you should know the delightsome old lady you lied for yesterday has been excommunicated for ‘transferring her tithe to another person’” 

She stayed long enough to delight in the sudden indignation Viktor felt, gently brushing her hand over the rosary he had tightened his grip around before melting into thin air from where she came from quickly, as there was no one when he turned back to express his anger. His breath came in shallow, controlled measures, and the men were unaware of the silent battle that had taken place but now aware of Viktor’s presence as he stepped inside the room completely. 

“Viktor, come in, come in, feeling refreshed this morning?” He said, clearly an excoriation made to mock Viktor’s clearly tired presence. 

The anger Viktor had been holding in check surged to the surface. "Is it true?" he demanded, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Did you excommunicate her?"

Father Isidore did not seem grieved by his accusation; if anything, he stood dignified in his decision. 

“It’s certainly interesting that you feel wronged by it, considering it was your fraudulent lies that caused this.”

“My— “ Viktor had to stop himself from saying anything more, and he left the room hurriedly before his resolve to stay quiet betrayed him. 

This was it—the drop that contained the sea. 

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

As he walked back to his quarters, his thoughts drifted back to the market, where he had often seen the old woman. Her face, lined with age and hardship, right next to the rubicund face of plump arrogance, seemed frail. She wore a threadbare shawl over her hunched shoulders, and he wore gold tread and rich velvets. Her fingers gnarled and trembled as she sold her meager wares—simple trinkets and worn fabrics. Viktor recalled the way her eyes had sparkled with gratitude when he had offered her a few coins for a trinket he didn’t need, insignificant next to the bishop’s half-a-dozen golden rings and precious jewelled rosary beads. 

The church itself was a monument to grandeur, with its towering spires, stained glass windows, and intricate carvings. It was a place where wealth was displayed in every corner, from the gilded altar to the finely wrought candelabras. Viktor had always taken pride in the beauty of his church, believing it reflected the glory of God. One step outside of it, though, would transport him to the cobblestone roads lined with the destitute, families huddled in the cold, and children with hollow eyes and empty stomachs. 

The market would be bustling with activity, but it was a scene of struggle and survival. People bartered and begged, their faces etched with the desperation of poverty, but their eyes still smiled when they saw him, hopeful that his presence—to them, divine—would at least save their souls. 

His cup was overflowing. 

With a determined stride, Viktor crossed the room and pulled the book from the shelf. He ran his fingers over the cover, feeling a surge of excitement and defiance. The prohibition that had once held him back now seemed an affront to the pursuit of truth and knowledge. The anger within him had crystallized into a clear resolve: if the church could betray its principles, then he no longer felt bound by its restrictions.

Viktor sat at his desk, opening the white-covered book with reverent hands. The pages were filled with meticulous diagrams and elegant prose, and as he began to read, the words seemed to leap off the page, igniting a passion that had been suppressed. The theories and observations weren’t groundbreaking to him, but they challenged the very foundations of the geocentric worldview that the Church so adamantly defended.

The elegant simplicity of the heretic’s heliocentric model resonated so deeply with Viktor, aligning with the sense of order and reason he had always believed in, that it almost brought genuine laughter out of him. He continued with his studies, not quite hiding it anymore but not eager for Father Isidore to find out either. Viktor turned, already sensing her presence before he saw her. She materialized from the shadows, her form unmistakable. Her eyes, burning with a white light, fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Hanging up the cassock, are we?” This time, her voice resonated clearly in the room instead of in his head.

There was no fear in Viktor this time; he stood his ground, meeting her gaze with a calm intensity. “No, but I’ve confronted a reality I was blind to.”

She smiled. “Is that gratitude I sense in your voice?” 

It was, but he did not answer. 

“You walk a dangerous path, Viktor; it is casuistic and intellectually dishonest of you to keep pretending you hold the same values as you did before.” 

“Many people have done it before; many have conciliated science and faith.”

“And all of them have been either branded as heretic and excommunicated or executed. Take a guess at where they are now.”

“Purgatory?” He said with a defeated but somehow playfully sarcastic tone. 

“What an extraordinary hoax purgatory is; at least have the guts to commit to the inferno.” She chuckled. 

Viktor had to quickly catch himself before he shared a laugh with her, immediately reverting into a pessimistic tone as he turned back around, away from the good-humored environment. 

“I can’t leave; this community needs me.”

“They do. It is far from me to express antagonism against that.” 

“You are trying to convince me to.”

“No. But you will see that you do not need organized religion to help those people. Eventually you will.”

“Perchance.” He said, Pensive. 

She circled him slowly. "You intrigue me. There is strength in you, a strength that few possess. I will watch your journey with great interest." 

Viktor’s resolve wavered slightly under her gaze. There was an intensity in her eyes that unnerved him, a predatory gleam that spoke of desires beyond his understanding. 

"Watch if you will," he said, his voice steady. "I will not be swayed by you again.”

Her smile widened with a knowing, almost lascivious grin. "So sure of yourself," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. She stepped closer, the air around her growing colder. “Why are you so ready to defy the dogma when it comes to science but so hesitant when it comes to your own indulgence?”

“It’s selfish,” he answered almost immediately. “Hedonistic.” 

“It would be, if you were seeking pleasure at someone’s expense. The idea that seeking self-gratification is selfish is merely puritan ideology; I trust you are now beyond that, after what I showed you last time.” 

Her fingers trailed down his arm, and Viktor fought to suppress the shiver that followed. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with defiance. 

"I will not yield."

“And I will not make you. You will call for me; you will yearn .”

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: I have so many projects to focus on, not least of all the bday bash, and instead of literally of then, I wrote 1K for a new au I'm not sure I'll ever finish – but since it doesn't fit any of the bb categories, I might as well dump it here for ppl's amusement. Uh, enjoy?

x

In the many years since he had established the Cat Bureau, Baron had become accustomed to a great many oddities arriving through his front door. Haunted dolls, river spirits, and on one memorable occasion, a singing teapot – to recount but a few.

Even so, the bride was a new one.

She stormed through the Bureau doors with enough force to send the mahjong tiles rattling (Muta was winning, but only because Baron hadn't figured out how he was cheating yet) and froze upon seeing the occupants.

She glanced back at the double doors she'd just slammed through, her ears nearly unsettling the veil, back at Baron and Muta, and then finally to the doors again for good measure. "Well," she said, probably to herself, "I suppose that does save me the trip."

Baron rose to his feet, abandoning with some relief the lost mahjong game, and instinctly reached for his top hat. His hands curled around thin air. Ah. Right. He supposed it was a tad late to grab it from the coatstand.

At least he still had his introduction.

"Hello, and welcome to the Cat Bureau–"

"Does your front door often move?"

His normal greeting stuttered. "Move where?" he asked.

The bride opened the door and seemed unusually surprised to see the Sanctuary courtyard on the other side. "You know, just anywhere else." She closed it, then tried again – seemingly for good measure. "It was a church hall door thirty seconds ago."

Ah. She was one of those clients then, picked up by the Sanctuary in a moment of great distress. He tried not to extrapolate any further, given her current, telltale attire.

"I think you'd better sit down, Miss...?"

"It was going to be Mrs Itsuki," the bride grumbled. She took one look at Muta, monopolising the sofa with obviously no intent to budge, and instead perched on an armchair.

Baron took the other seat. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"The problem?" the bride echoed. She motioned to herself. "Just look at me, Baron!"

Baron did, assuming that he'd somehow overlooked some glaring dilemma – but no. All he could see was a tabby cat decked out in a stunning bridal dress, even if the veil didn't quite fit around her ears. "Could you perhaps be more specific–"

"I'm a cat."

"As I can see." He finally clocked on to the use of his name, remarkable since she had cut his introduction short. "Have we met before?"

She blinked. "Well, I suppose it has been a good few years since our last encounter. Similar-ish kind of circumstances too," she added with a sheepish half-laugh. "Despite my attempts to change it, my name is still Haru Yoshioka."

It took him a moment to place the name – and then a few more to mentally dig up the case associated with it.

Muta was a second faster to compose a response.

"Chicky? Don't tell me you've gotten yourself hitched again to a cat!"

A blush rose to Haru's cheeks, visible even beneath the fur. "He's strictly human, Muta. Nearly getting married to a cat once is quite enough for me."

"Then what happened to yer?"

"I don't know! One second I'm walking down the aisle," she said, hands thrown up for emphasis, "and the next I start sprouting fur and a tail! I made a run for it, and instead of being dumped in the vestry, I stepped through into here." She slumped where she sat. "I was kind of hoping you'd have an explanation."

"The Sanctuary will often offer a door to those who need our help," Baron said, "although I must confess I have no immediate solution for your dilemma. Are you sure you don't know of its cause?"

"Unless I'm weirdly allergic to organ music, no."

Muta chortled. "Perhaps it's a wedding gift from the Cat Kingdom."

"Not funny."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be unwise to check with the Cat Kingdom," Baron said, before Muta could goad their client any further. He read the wrinkling of Haru's whiskered nose. "The Cat King you knew is enjoying his retirement in a distant corner of the Kingdom; his son, Lune, has since taken the throne."

"Oh. Well, that's okay then. I mean, I did kind of have things planned for today but, well..." She looked down at herself. "They're probably cancelled now."

x

Upon King Lune being introduced to Haru, he took one look at her dress and feline traits, and his face dropped. It wasn't so much disappointment, as it was the dawning realisation that consequences had just come a-knocking. (Baron was fairly certain he'd seen a similar breed of regret on Muta's face, just after Baron had found the remains of a cake Muta had hidden away and promptly forgotten about.)

"Oh," said the young royal. "I'd rather hoped this wouldn't happen."

"Rather hoped?" Haru echoed in dangerous tones. "So you knew about this?"

King Lune raised his paws in supplication. "Knew is such a strong word. Theorised is more like it."

"I think the lady has a right to know what you've theorised," Baron interceded, before Haru's temper could make an appearance.

"Well, it wasn't my theory," Lune said, once the Bureau and its plus-one had been ushered into a drawing room. "Natori was the one who warned me of it."

"Natori is..." Haru prompted.

"My father's advisor," Lune said.

"Not the short one who smiles a lot?"

"No, that'd be Natoru," and Lune didn't respond to Haru's evident relief. "Natori officially went into retirement when my father did – but since he was also the only one to have a handle on any of the paperwork here, he makes the occasional return trip."

"And what did Natori warn you of?" Baron asked.

Lune didn't reply immediately, instead visibly chewing over his words with an air of deliberateness that had been absent in his princely years. "He explained that the Cat Kingdom is subject to a series of... rules – or forces," he said eventually. "Like the Human Realm obeys such things as time or gravity. The Cat Kingdom has another kind of rule – that of equal exchange."

"Equal exchange?" Muta echoed.

"Favours, debts," Lune clarified. "If a neighbour kitten-sits for you, you look after their ageing parents another day. For the small, everyday things, it mostly works itself out, enough so that most cats don't even notice – the idea of repaying a favour is just ingrained into our culture, that most will naturally fulfil it."

There was a pause as his audience digested this unexpected spat of worldbuilding. Then, from Baron, "And if it were a larger debt?" He glanced to Haru. "Such as saving the life of the kingdom's prince?"

Lune's expression flickered, betraying an exact hitting the nail on the head. "Then something of equal value must be returned. Something like marrying into the royal family the individual had diverted catastrophe from." He studiously didn't meet Haru's eyes as he added, "Attempts to avoid such a repayment might have... consequences."

"So I'm a cat because I didn't marry you," Haru deadpanned. "That feels a little bit like railroading my life choices."

"It's not something we can control!" Lune insisted. "Otherwise I would consider it null in a heartbeat! But the rules of the Cat Kingdom have a penchant for... symmetry, as Natori put it, so when you tried to marry someone other than a cat royal..."

"The Cat Kingdom got pissy," Haru finished.

"That hadn't been the word I'd been thinking of, bit close enough."

Haru's shoulders slumped.

"Cheer up, Chicky," Muta said. "Perhaps he's got a cute cousin."

[goldieghoulie]

Threads of Fate (chapter 4 of ?)

Secondo x OC | Explicit | chapter wc: 5,724

Isabel and Secondo grab another moment together. She later decides drastic action might be necessary

Snippet below the cut

Isabel pushed open the door to the vestry the next morning after passing a restless night. The few moments of sleep she had managed to catch between vivid remembrances of her time with Secondo did little to make her feel rested. It was still before sunrise, though that hardly made it late this time of year. Nevertheless, most siblings tended to become sluggish in the short days and the abbey was quiet as most were still in bed. Isabel expected the pitch black of the vestry that greeted her and carried a candle in her free hand to help her light the others in the room. Minding the flame, she walked into the room and crossed to the table. She set the candle down where she had laid yesterday and ran her fingers over the plain wood. It bore no trace of what she now considered a landmark moment.  

In the silence of the room, she heard the soft rustle of clothes and had a moment to stiffen in surprise before arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against a body she was beginning to recognize.  

“Did you sleep?” Secondo growled against her neck.  

“Not much.” Isabel replied “You?” 

“Not at all.” As if to illustrate the source of his sleeping problems he shifted and ground his hard member against Isabel’s behind. A moan slipped from her as her nipples tightened and an answering rush of warmth spread between her legs. His hands wandered from his grip about her waist up to her breasts, where he began to need the handfuls. Isabel let her head fall back onto Secondo’s shoulders as she enjoyed his caress. 

“It was cruel of you to leave like that last night” he pinched her nipples to illustrate his point and Isabel gasped at the sharp pleasure. “You should make it up this morning.”  

“I have to work. You– surely you have to work too?” Isabel tried to rationalize, but hoped he would counter. 

“This afternoon, sì. Meetings all afternoon and evening with nothing but boring, droning men. Let me, us, savor this morning.”  

[originem-omni]

So you're going to do what's expected and spawn a new Higher Being, then. That's the least you can do

There it is. "In our own time, thank you."

[bullet-prooflove]

Promises: Detective Elijah Vestri x Reader

(The Rookie)

Tagging: @kmc1989

You taste like honey, like sunshine and sweetness underneath Vestri’s lips and he can’t get enough. His fingers thread through your hair, drawing you even closer and your breathing hitches. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knows he shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself, this thing between the two of you it’s magnetic, everytime he tries to pull away, he’s drawn straight back in.

“You’re being safe right?” He whispers, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek.

You know what he’s really asking. Are you behaving yourself? Staying in your lane? You have a habit of going rogue, of chasing the story even if it’s to your detriment. It’s how the two of you met.

Someone had tried to kill you last year, you’d been looking into a political scandal and flew a little too close to the sun. He’d been assigned to the case. You were a giant pain in his ass, you refused to take the protection protocols seriously, instead of putting a hold on the story you’d pushed even harder. He would have found it admirable if it wasn’t so frustrating.

He’d ended up taking you to the range, teaching you how to shoot because he knew for a fact your level of tenacity even after this case was over, there would probably be another. He wanted to make sure you knew how to take care of yourself and that’s when things transitioned. He’d been teaching you a few self defence moves, the furniture pushed back to the edges of the living room when you’d kissed him.

Once it started, he couldn’t stop and that basically summarises your entire relationship. It’s been a year on and off, you make up, you break up but you always end up coming back to one another. The way he feels for you, it’s never been like this for him and the more he fights it, the worse it gets.

“Vestri…” You drawl out his name, drawing your attention back to him as your fingertips ghost along the stubble that lines his jaw.

He captures your fingers before pressing them against his lips.

“Promise me.” He requests.

He knows it’s pointless, it’s like trying to stop the tide creeping up along the sure. You’re a force of nature and despite the fact he loves that about you, it’s the very thing that drives you apart.

“I promise.” You murmur, your nose trailing along the length of his.

He chooses to believe you this time, for his own sake. He doesn’t want to fight tonight, it’s been a shitty day and he just wants to be with you, loving you.

He kisses you again. His lips brushing over yours, heated, tender. His palm comes to rest on the nape of your neck, thumb chasing over the scar just underneath the hinge of your jaw. It’s a reminder of that day, the one that landed you in his life.

This thing between the two of you it doesn’t work, but Vestri doesn’t care because he needs you right now.

The problem is, he always needs you.

Love Vestri Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lady-z-writes]

A little preview...

So I normally don't post upcoming stuff for a fic I'm writing, but this scene with Heisenberg x fem!reader was just too much. Ended up sharing about it in a server I'm a part of and...here's a little preview of some smut coming up in my multi-chapter fic, What Lies Beneath

The following is NSFW...

Summary for below the cut: Reader and Heisenberg show up to a "family" meeting at the church. While they wait for the others, Heisy wants reader to blow him in one of the pews. Reader ends up fingering herself, mid-blowjob, and doesn't get to climax before the other Lords start showing up for the meeting. Lots of teasing ensues during the meeting because Heisy loves to play...

“We shouldn’t,” she urges, pressing against him in an attempt to get him to stop.

It’s dangerous she’s even this close to him, considering they could get ambushed by anyone.

Still, he insists on entering the church together and she’s forced to pull away from him for appearances sake. He’s smirking at her over his shoulder, finding this whole thing humorous. She shoots him a glare.

Moreau is the only one there already and he mumbles something to Heisenberg about Mother being late.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll be fine.” Heisenberg glances at her, nods down the hall. It takes her a moment, but she realizes what he’s suggesting and she shakes her head. He rolls his eyes, takes matters into his own hands. “Why don’t you wait by the door for her?”

Moreau seems giddy about this idea and [Y/N] watches him shuffle to the main door. The minute Moreau is out of eyeshot, Heisenberg grips her by the arm and drags her where he wants. She struggles, but only for a minute.

“Are you nuts?”

“Maybe a little,” he chuckles. [Y/N] pulls her arm back. His face falls. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He pulls her deeper into the church now, seats himself down in a pew in the nave, and shoves [Y/N] to her knees.

Gaping at him, she shakes her head while he grips her hair.

“Heisenberg,” she hisses, trying to push herself up.

“You wanted it this way, kitten,” he shakes his head, using his other hand to unbuckle and unzip. “But that’s fine, waste more time.”

His grip in her hair is painful and if she understands anything about him, she knows there’s no way of getting out of this.

They’ll be here any minute.

Quickly, she pulls his pants open just enough for his cock to spring out. He groans at the knowledge that she’s actually obliging. Shifting his grip on her hair, he adjusts in the pew, feels the weight of her arms draping over his thighs, one hand groping at his hip, the other around his dick.

“Good girl…” he coos as she takes his cock in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around his head before she deepthroats once. Such a tease. Always such a tease. A flat tongue traces over the underside of his dick, lapping up to the tip again. She tenses her tongue, uses the tip of it to play with his frenulum. The sensitivity causes Heisenberg to buck his hips toward her mouth, moan aloud.

She startles, surely nervous to have him being so loud but it only urges him on. He’s smirking, she notices, and though she’s nervous she can’t help but be completely aroused by this.

“I’ll sit here all meeting if I have to. You know that,” his voice is sultry, whispered just for her to hear.

She steps up her game, using her hand to jerk him off while her mouth continues to pleasure him as well. The precum she tastes means he’s liking what she’s doing.

“Guess I didn’t – mmm – spell out my rules well enough, huh?” he pants out. “I’ll let it slide this time, ungh…kitten.”

She’s focusing on his pleasure and speeding things up but she’s also very aware of her own throbbing arousal. Pressing her legs together tighter, she moans at the stimulation.

Heisenberg stares at her. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he cackles to which she deepthroats him repeatedly to get him to shut up. It works, but instead he’s moaning her name.

She can feel his dick tensing, the muscles in his thighs flexing, making the pew creak. It’s at this point that she removes her hand from his hip, uses it to put pressure on her clit.

Heisenberg watches every second – loves the way her mouth feels on him, how her hands grip him at the perfect intensity, how into this she is. He’d normally force her to stop touching herself, but he’s so fucking intrigued he can’t look away. Her fingers have trailed up her skirt and the filthy woman is fingering herself while she mouthfucks him in a church.

Heisenberg can’t hold back much longer – not with the way her throat feels against his tip, not with how talented that tongue is, and surely not when he hears her slick wetness as her fingers slip inside her cunt.

With a string of moans, he spills in her mouth, using his grip on her hair to thrust as deep as possible; give her every last drop. [Y/N] is moaning around his cock and, though his eyes are closed, he can still hear her fingers gliding in and out of herself.

Swallowing him down, she keeps her mouth on him as he starts the comedown but he pulls his hips back from her because she’s overstimulating him. With nothing to block the moans, she buries her face in his thigh, hides her expression as she nears her climax.

“Ohhh, fuck, buttercup,” he gasps, stroking her hair gently, his voice laced with pleasure. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? You gonna cum on your fingers for a job well done getting your master off in a church?” he chuckles and she’s completely gone – passed the point of no return. “And I’ll let you. I’ll let you because, baby girl, you did so good.” A few more strokes to her g-spot and she’s there. “Oh…? Oh…shit, honey…” he’s laughing at her and for a second she stills, listening.

Over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, she can hear someone talking. No. No, no, no, they’re here already?

A sob leaves her mouth as she looks up at him from his crotch. He’s pleased, so fucking pleased with the sight of her – hair a mess, swollen lips, pupils dilated, chest heaving.

The voice of Lady Dimitrescu is apparent now, echoing in the nave as she enters. Heisenberg glances over his shoulder as [Y/N] debates if she should try to finish – but that edge is waning due to the new company.

“Up. Now,” Heisenberg speaks through gritted teeth, quickly zipping, buttoning, and buckling up.

A shaky breath that’s on the verge of a sob, she huffs in the pew beside him. Her hands come up to wipe her mouth, smooth her hair, swipe the tears from her eyes. Heisenberg takes another glance back, notices he has a second, and pops her slick-covered finger in his mouth – tasting her, tongue dancing across her skin.

A whimper leaves her before she purses her lips. Heisenberg is so humored by this.

He leaves her side, goes to greet Alcina with some witty, snide remark. She doesn’t even notice [Y/N].

Eyes wide, [Y/N] glances around the room, looking for an escape of some sort. Maybe she could rush to the bathroom – make an excuse – finish off in there…

And then Heisenberg is calling her into the conversation; something about her wanting to try Alcina’s wine.

“Oh, my dear girl! I’ve stored some bottles in the kitchen here. Would you fetch them for us?” she calls.

Perfect – an excuse. She could almost weep a thank you to Karl as she gets up and tries to walk, as composed as possible, to the kitchen. His eyes are on her. She can feel them.

Alone in the kitchen, she decides to take a breath and focus: get the wine and glasses before trying to finger fuck herself.

It’s fairly empty so it’s not hard. A wine opener sits on the counter too and she rushes to open the bottle, tries to mentally work herself up again so it’s not a problem reaching her climax quickly.

Bottle open, everything spread out, shielded by the counter, [Y/N] starts to pull her long skirt up –

“[Y/N]?” Lady Dimitrescu ducks into the doorway, startling her enough for her to drop the fabric back down. “Oh, I see you’ve found the opener as well. Very good.”

“I-I’m excited to try it,” she stutters out, clearing her throat as the Lady picks up the bottle. She struggles to hide her swollen lips, looking away when Alcina tries to look closer at her.

Heisenberg is in the hallway, just beyond Lady Dimitrescu – smirking. Of course.

“Come, now, child. We’re needed in the vestry.”

[Y/N] follows, grabbing the glasses with shaking hands. As she passes Heisenberg, he tips his hat at her, that devilish smirk taunting her.

No one behind them, he places a hand on her ass as they walk. This whole sneaking around thing is way too much fun, he thinks.

Donna and Moreau are in the vestry, seated at the middle table. Alcina takes the bottle to the front, naturally, overachiever.

As [Y/N] gets her glass filled with wine, Heisenberg takes one of the two seats at the back table. She glances up at everyone in the room, notices the only empty seat.

“Back of the class,” Heisenberg cackles.

The front board is covered with a hand-drawn map of the village. [Y/N] takes her seat and tries to distract herself.

Heisenberg is smug beside her, running his hands over his facial hair to make that delicious scratch that she loves.

He watches her cross her legs, sip her wine, stare at the front of the room. A quiet chuckle comes from him. Slowly he starts rolling up his sleeves, exposing his muscled forearms. [Y/N] inhales sharply and he is so enjoying this.

Miranda joins them shortly, instantly cutting to information regarding the upcoming culling. Maps of the village contained information on houses, villagers, livestock. [Y/N] tries to focus, but once the lights dim, Heisenberg has his hand on her thigh and she’s trying to calm down.

She gives it a few minutes, waits for Miranda to introduce their next steps.

It’s so damn hard to focus though and every few minutes she’s switching one leg over the other just to have some sort of stimulation.

Heisenberg’s hand doesn’t leave her no matter her movements. He notices her shifting, bites back a laugh.

Lackadaisically, he lifts her wine glass to his lips, takes a sip, swallows, hums. The rumble of his throat makes her squeeze her thighs together tightly. He starts touching his facial hair again, the sound against his leather gloves so arousing.

“You just gotta ask nice,” he barely whispers.

She’s afraid they’ll be caught; afraid someone already heard his comment. Yet, when his fingers just barely graze over her cunt, she covers her mouth and inhales sharply.

“Please,” she whispers.

She breaks.

“Absolutely.”

He doesn’t lift her skirt like she hoped, but the pressure of his fingers against her clit is enough to bring her right back to that moment: with her face in his lap, her fingers buried between her thighs.

Talented fingers tense over her clit, massaging up and down. Holding her breath, she closes her eyes in hopes to focus on her orgasm. Biting her lower lip, she barely bucks up against his hand.

Heisenberg’s free hand is pressed against his cheek, elbow on the table. He hides his smirk as he hears a soft, shaky breath leave her. Good. Good girl.

The orgasm is powerful, breathtaking, considering she was refused a release before. Heisenberg’s fingers are relentless and she’s so impressed he can coax her to peak so quickly. Here, in this room, after she blew him – her lips still swollen, mouth tasting of a mixture of wine and his cum.

Her eyes shoot open as she takes in the scene around her. No one else pays her any mind, but Heisenberg is staring, hungry, pants tented again.

She’s breathless once more.

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Dragon Queen

Thor x Fem!Reader (Unknown Chapters)

A sequel to A Dragon Is Not A Slave (part two of Blood Of The Dragon Series)

Work Summary: Five Years after Reader was freed from Hydra and given a second chance by the Avengers, Thor becomes Allfather of the Asgardians. What will that mean for Reader and her relationship with Thor?

Chapter 1: Warrior

Summary: Reader and Thor are an unstoppable team on the battlefield.

Notes: I know this chapter is short. Just wanted to do a quick re-introduction to this awesome couple!

Thor charged with Stormbreaker, lightning covering every inch of him. “We will not fall!!”

“You will have to do better than your weak lighting, Son of Odin!” Cried the Dark Elf, dodging the ax strike.

Thor smirked. “I was hoping you would say that.”

A powerful screeched was heard above before a figure with large wings dived from above, creating a large line of fire for miles. Dark elves scattered as the fire began to consume the battlefield. More fire rained from above as the rest of the Avengers joined in the fight.

You spun as you landed next to Thor, your wings spread out and your tail lashing about. Another roar left your mouth as Thor spun Stormbreaker.

“What’s the matter? Aren’t Elves fireproof?” Stark quipped as he blasted one coming at him.

“You’re thinking of phoenixes,” Clint hit an elf with an arrow.

“Right. So hard to keep these mythical creatures straight.” He blew away another Dark Elf. “Though in my defense, I stopped caring once they tried - for a second time - to come here uninvited.”

One tried to sneak up on Stark, but you wrapped your tail around her neck and tossed her across the field.

“Thanks, Dragon Lady.”

You smirked at him, “you need to work on your nicknames.”

“Well, I thought Daenerys was a little too on the nose.”

The battle raged on, with you and Thor at its center, fighting as one. If one took to the air, the other followed. Lighting followed fire, beautifully mixing together. As it had been since your first mission together following your probation, five years ago.

One elf tried to shoot at Thor and you shielded him with your wings. “Skoros morghot vestri?”

“Not today,” he kissed your forehead.

“If you two are done being cute, I think the Dark elves are finally leaving.” Nat’s voice filled your ears from the comms.

“About damn time.” You sighed. Taking to the air, you overlooked the cleanup of the remaining enemies. “Looks like Cap and Bucky got the last of them. We should head back to the compound.”

“We’ll meet you there, ____. You, Thor, and Stark can get the place ready for any prisoners we find. Rhodey, stay here to give Vision a hand in the air.” Steve ordered.

“Gotcha, Cap.”

Thor took to the skies after you and Tony, making your way back to New York. You kept higher than the others so it wouldn’t be as easy to spot you from the ground. Despite being an Avenger, people were still wary around you.

Wary of the Dragon Lady.

You landed on the roof and stretched your wings as if you were stretching your body after a long nap. Thor landed near you, admiring the way your wings moved.

“Are you alright, my love?”

“Yes, Thor. Just… being cautious of who can see me fly. Nothing more.”

He watched you walked into the compound as Tony landed next to him. “What’s with her?”

“She is still worried about people being afraid of her.”

Tony’s suit retracted as he measured his next words. “What did she say to you on the field? When the Dark Elf shot at you?“

“What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Do you still want to go through with your plans?”

“Very much so. There is no one I would rather have by my side for this next phase of my life.”

The boys began to follow you into the compound. “We’re gonna miss you, Point Break. Won’t be the same without you and Firebreath over there.”

Thor chuckled. “We will still visit from time to time. But my people can no longer go without a king and the Nine Realms needs an Allfather.”

“If you’re set on this, then let’s do it right. I’ll get the team to change one of the rooms to give you a private place for dinner. Probably have it ready in two days.”

“Thank you, Stark,” Thor slapped Tony on the back.

He winced and took a step back, “ease up. Unlike your future Dragon Queen, I’m human.”

They both laughed.

But then Tony grew serious. “Do you think she may say no? It is a big thing to spring on her. Or things rather.”

Thor looked over at you as you talked to Pepper while Morgan chased your tail and giggled. “I do worry. Worry I may not be who she wants. Worry she may not want to join me in this new phase. But I must ask her, for I cannot imagine anyone else by my side for this.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll get the team to help me. It will be the best night we can give you.”

Tony was true to his word and he cracked down on the team. Everyone hustled to get a room ready for the perfect date night for you and Thor. Everyone except Nat and Wanda. Their job was to keep you distracted.

So the first day they went with you to Xavier’s school where you helped teach new mutants how to fight. Nat and Wanda joined in on the lesson and the kids were excited to work with Avengers and X-Men.

The next day - the day of the date - they did their best to pamper you. They took you shopping, finding a halter dress that could be fixed to fit your tail. At the compound, Nat did your nails for you - knowing how uncomfortable you felt in a salon - while Wanda fixed the dress to allow your tail. You knew they were preparing you for a surprise, but you also knew that neither Nat nor Wanda would ever spill the details to you. So you let them carry on.

Once you were all dolled up, the girls lead you to the door to the room and each gave you a hug.

“Have fun tonight. You earned it.” Nat kissed your cheek.

Wanda squeezed your hand. “We want to hear every detail tomorrow!”

You just nodded your head, learning long ago that it was pointless to ask for information in regards to a surprise. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and walked in.

The room was beautiful, almost looking like a fancy restaurant. There were lounges by the wall of windows with a small table covered in candles. In the middle of the room was a round table with two plush, armless chairs, a small candle in the middle, and set for two people to have dinner.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“I was hoping you would love this.” Thor came up beside you. “I wanted this night to be perfect.”

“I- I’m speechless. This is beautiful. Thank you, Thor.” You pulled him down for a kiss. “Avy jorrāelan.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips.

Thor had been one of the few to learn High Valyrian for you. Or the Dragon’s Tongue, as Bucky cheekily called it. This gave you and Thor the ability to have private conversations at times. As long as Loki or Nat wasn’t around.

“What’s the occasion, my love?”

Thor suddenly grew nervous and that made you worried. It was rare for you to see the God of Thunder at a loss for words.

“My love?” You repeated.

Thor cleared his throat and took your hand. “I had planned to wait until after dinner, but I worry I will not be able to stop myself from blurting out loud. So please, come with me.”

You let him lead you over to the lounges and you sat next to him the best you could, stretching your wings so they pointed behind you.

“You can tell me anything, Thor. I’m here for you.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I am retiring from being an Avenger.”

Your mind went blank. “Ok, that’s definitely not what I thought you were going to say. So… I- I’m lost. What does this mean? Why are you leaving the team?”

“It is time I take my place as the King of Asgard. Or in this case, New Asgard. I was technically made Allfather when Odin passed away, but that was right before Thanos came. Then I met you. There was never a proper ceremony. And Brunnhilde has been running things so far for me. But I cannot put this off any longer.”

He was leaving? Thor was leaving?! You tried to keep the tears out of your eyes. This was clearly meant as a goodbye dinner. “I understand.”

Thor instantly saw where your thoughts went. “No, no, my love! I am not leaving you!”

“I don’t understand. You’re leaving the team.”

Thor moved so he was on his knee in front of you. “I love you, ____, and I can’t do this alone.”

“What-”

He looked deep into your eyes. “Ao ynoma dīnilūks?”

“Did you-? Are you asking me-?”

“Ao ynoma dīnilūks?”

You took a deep breath and took Thor’s hands. “Ask me in English so I know you know what you are asking of me. I need to know you are not messing up your words again.”

Thor reached up and stroked your cheek. “Will you marry me?”

“Thor, I-”

“Become my queen. My Dragon Queen.”

A tear escaped and ran down your face. “Kessa. Kessa! Yes, of course!”

Chapter 2

[queenfredegund]

MEROVINGIAN REGINAE | Fredegund Regina († 597)

Third principal wife of Chilperich I Rex, to whom she bore five sons, Chlodobert Rex, Samson Rex, Dagobert Rex, Theodorich Rex and Chlothacar II Rex, and one daughter, Rigund Regina. As Chilperich’s wife, she may have lived between several civitates, such as Rotomagus (Rouen), Parisius ( Paris), Sexonas (Soissons) or Brennacum (Berny).

According to Gregorius of Tours, she was already his favourite even before the wedding with Galswintha Regina in 567, and despite the fact he had to put aside his whole women and concubines for this wedding, including his first chief wife, Audovera Regina, he quickly took her back near him. Even if we do not know exactly when or why, it must have been because she bore him her first son Chlodobert Rex, much to the anger of Galswintha Regina, who felt outraged by her presence.

“[...] promittens per legatus se alias relicturum, tantum condignam sibi regisque prolem mereretur accipere. [...] Quae cum ad Chilpericum regem venisset, cum grande honore suscepta eiusque est sociata coniugio; a quo etiam magno amore diligebatur. Detulerat enim secum magnos thesauros. Sed per amorem Fredegundis, quam prius habuerat, ortum est inter eos grande scandalum.

He told the messengers to say that he promised to dismiss all the others, if only he were considered worthy of marrying a King’s daughter of a rank equal to his own. [...] When she reached the court of King Chilperic, he welcomed her with great honour and made her his wife. He loved her very dearly, for she had brought a large dowry with her. A great quarrel soon ensued between the two of them, however, because he also loved Fredegund, whom he had married before he married Galswinth.”

DLH, IV 28. De uxoribus Chilperici

After the death of Galswintha Regina in 568, she officially became Chilperich’s new chief wife and gave birth to all of his other children. Basing on the sources, he apparently remained faithful to her and did not take other significant concubine. Fredegund seemed to have been very popular and loved by the people, and was also known as being a good administrator and landowner, as she was able to raise money and numerous gifts for her daughter’s dowry.

“Sed et mater eius inmensum pondus auri argentique sive vestimentorum protulit, ita ut videns haec rex nihil sibi remansisse potaret. Quem cernens regina commotum, conversa ad Francus, ita ait: ‘Ne potitis, viri, quicquam hic de thesauris anteriorum regum habere; omnia enim quae cernetis de mea proprietate oblata sunt, quia mihi gloriosissimus rex multa largitus est, et ego nonnulla de proprio congregavi labore et de domibus mihi concessis tam de fructibus quam tributis plurima reparavi. Sed et vos plerumque me muneribus vestris ditastis, de quibus sunt ista quae nunc coram videtis; nam hic de thesauris publicis nihil habetur’.

Her. mother added a vast weight of gold and silver, and many fine clothes. When he saw this, King Chilperic thought that he had nothing left at all. Queen Fredegund realized that he was upset. She turned to the Franks and said: ‘Do not imagine, men, that any of this comes from the treasures amassed by your earlier kings. Everything you see belongs to me. Your most illustrious King has been very generous to me, and I have put aside quite a bit from my own resources, from the manors granted to me, and from revenues and taxes. You, too, have often given me gifts. From such sources come all the treasures which you see in front of you. None of it has been taken from the public treasury’.”

DLH, VI, 45. De nuptiis Rigunthae, filiae Chilperici

However she had to face the death of almost all her sons: Samson in 577, Chlodobert and Dagobert in 580 during the Plague of the Gauls, and then Theodorich in 584. The same year, her husband was brutally killed, leaving her alone with her last son, Chlothacar II Rex, who was barely 4 months, and her daughter Rigund Regina, at that time on the road to marry Reccared, heir of Toledo. She seized the royal treasure and took refuge in the Basilica Saint-Étienne de Paris, claiming the role of regent over the regnum Neustria, and placing herself under the protection of Guntchramn Rex and Bishop Ragnemod of Parisius.

“Interea Fredegundis regina iam viduata Parisius advenit et cum thesauris, quos infra murorum septa concluserat, ad aeclesiam confugit adque a Ragnemodo fovetur episcopo.

Meanwhile the widowed Queen Fredegund arrived in Paris. She took with her that part of her treasure which she had secreted within the city walls, and she sought sanctuary in the cathedral, where she was given protection by Bishop Ragnemod.”

DLH, VII, 4. Quod Fredegundis in aeclesia confugit

As Guntchramn was having doubts on the parentage of her baby, she summoned an assembly of 3 bishops and 300 nobiles who all attested of her honorability and officially named the baby Chlothacar. 

“Interea Fredegundis regina iam viduata Parisius advenit et cum thesauris, quos infra murorum septa concluserat, ad aeclesiam confugit adque a Ragnemodo fovetur episcopo.

Meanwhile the widowed Queen Fredegund arrived in Paris. She took with her that part of her treasure which she had secreted within the city walls, and she sought sanctuary in the cathedral, where she was given protection by Bishop Ragnemod.”

DLH, VII, 4. Quod Fredegundis in aeclesia confugit

She also managed to save her daughter, who was taken as an hostage by Dux Desiderius after the new of her father’s death, and threaten to be taken in marriage by force by the pretender Gundovald.

“Fredegundis autem his diebus Chuppanem in Tholosano direxit, ut scilicet filiam suam exinde quocumque modo possit eruere. [...] acceptam Rigundem a loco illo reduxit, non sine grande humilitate adque contumilia.

At this time Fredegund sent Chuppa into the Toulouse area to bring home her daughter Rigunth by hook or by crook. [...] so he took Rigunth, humiliated and insulted as she was, and brought her home instead.”

DLH, VII, 39. Quod idem emisit qui Brunechildem lederet

Facing multiple oppositions because of her new position, she managed to secure herself with various allies among the nobiles and neutralized her major opponents, such as Bishop Praetextatus, who resented her for many years. As a regent, she was known as being fearless and cunning, rendering justice, and even challenging her brother-in-law Guntchramn on some matters, such as negociations with Hispania while he strictly forbidden it, or with Brittany in 586. 

“Sed et Warocum nuntios dirigit, ut, qui adhuc captivi in Brittaniis de exercitu Gunthchramni regis retenebantur, pro huius vita absolverentur. Quod ita Warocus implevit.

[S]he sent messengers to Waroch, ordering him to set free the prisoners from King Guntram’s army whom he was still holding in Brittany. Waroch did as he was told.”

DLH, X, 11. De infirmitate Chlothari iunioris

Despite their mutual hostility, they pursued diplomatic relationship and she was regarded as the true leader of the west regnum during the whole minority of Chlothacar, even leading military expeditions with him. She was also a pious woman, who made several donations to churches and basilicas.

“Sed cum eum Fredegundis, mater eius, disperatum vidisset, multum pecuniae ad basilicam sancti Martini vovit, et sic puer melius agere visus est.

When Fredegund, the mother of Lothar, saw how desperately ill he was, she vowed that she would donate a great sum of money to the church of Saint Martin.”

DLH, X, 11. De infirmitate Chlothari iunioris

She eventually died of natural causes in 597, in Parisius and was buried near her husband into the Basilica Sainte-Croix-et-Saint-Vincent (actual abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés), in Parisius (Paris). Her grave, which had been identified thanks to a later tombstone, had been moved during the 19th century in the Basilica of St. Denis, where it is still nowadays.

“Anno secundo regni Teuderici Fredegundis moritur.

The second year of Theuderic’s reign, Fredegund dies.”

Chron, IV, 17. De Fredegunde, quod Parisius invasit, et pugna contra Teudeberto

Fredegund’s grave in St. Denis

Detail of the tombstone

[elejah-wonderland]

IN LOVE WITH YOU

Fanfiction

Alternative Universe

Sidney Parker x Charlotte Haywood 💕

a/n: I love to write a lot of AU stories. As well as making gifs. That gif above will make sense when you read the drabble.

The roles are reversed here. Charlotte is a Dutchess and Sidney, a farmer.

Thanks for reading. 😘💕

💖🌷🌺

Georgiana Lambe wrote to her friend Esther, who was in Venice, Italy.

"Dear Esther,

I hope this letter finds you well, my dear friend. I have written to you about my friend, Dutchess Charlotte of Sanditon. She was supposed to marry King Alfonso of Spain, as she was bethroted to him since she was sixteen. I have told you that when we met in London. What I have not told you was that she and Sidney - the widower- the kind man that saved Lord Babbington's life- who had nothing but misfortunes in the last year, as his wife Eliza died at childbirth, and his brother fell gravely ill, finally reached a happy ever after. I swore to them that I would not tell a soul about their love. But they were discovered by that ghastly man, Mr Howard, and now the whole world knows.

And though Charlotte opposed them all, they threatened her and she left to marry Alfonso. And then, in the last minute, just as she was about to get out of the vestry, she took off and jilted the King. She arrived here, in Sanditon late last night, and went straight to see Sidney, still wearing her wedding dress. And this is what happened -

At the Parker Farm

Charlotte:"Sidney - I - don't know if you will ever forgive me - I - I'm in love you and what I said back then that I don't care about you, was not true. They threatened with your complete ruination and - oh - I couldn't see you lose everything becsuse of me - but"

Sidney (passing baby Louisa to Mary):"Lord Babbington told me. I went to find you in London, but you were guarded so well that even he could not get me in the house."

Charlotte:"You came to London?"

Sidney:"Of course - I wanted to tell you that I know about everything and ask you if you would leave with me and start a new life in Antigua. Georgiana's father has offered me a job - and "

Charlotte:"Yes, Sidney- yes! Let's get away from here. I love you and I would go to the end of the world with you!"

Wiping her tears, Charlotte slings her arms around Sidney, crashing into a warm and loving kiss.

[originem-omni]

Two Highers in a relationship? Hmmmm

"Well, we're both the same emotional defects, as you lot like to call it. So, we're going to keep to ourselves, if you're going to insist upon being so callous."

[subdee]

dungeon x hunter  CONTINUED

Chapter two of my HxH AU where the main four + Alluka play dungeons and dragons!

This story is rated GEN.  

Part One (Alluka):

Part Two (Bear): 

The renovated church cafe, as promised, was a beautiful spot and quite crowded on a Sunday.  In the large main room with high vaulted ceilings and colorful stained-glass windows, the noise of everyone’s conversations formed a dull roar that was louder than a traditional cafe would have been, despite the heavy drapes hung from the walls and ceiling to soak up the noise.  

But in the smaller back room - formerly a vestry - they’d reserved for their game, it was quieter and more private.

This week Kurapika was busy with a case brief and had texted Leorio that he wouldn’t make it. But it was no big deal: with all four of them in school, it was common for someone to miss a game sometimes.  In another week, when Kurapika rejoined them, he’d receive the same experience points as everyone else and they’d catch him up on what he’d missed. Unless it was finals week or Leorio had a big med school test coming up, they generally didn’t cancel the session. 

Plus, Alluka was with them this week.  And she’d been using her vacation to read up on the game rules, so she’d come prepared to kick some demon cult butt.  They finished up the cave dungeon easily and Gon even made a new friend - a man-eating drake he was going to domesticate with Alluka’s help and endless supply of fresh meat (long story).  

Then they spent the rest of the time just chatting about their lives over hot chocolate (Killua), coffee with a double espresso shot (Leorio) or hot tea (Gon and Alluka) in the main room of the cafe.  Killua was proud that his sister was making an effort to be social, and that she got along so well with his friends.  But then, his friends were quite friendly, and easy to get along with.  

He wasn’t sure, though, that he liked how close she’d gotten to Gon over the last week.  At least not if they were going to team up together against him like this. 

“Killua doesn’t snore,” she was telling him.  “But he snorts sometimes in his sleep!  Like this,” and she made a few little snuffling sounds, like a cat about to sneeze.  That was not accurate, in Killua’s opinion.  There was no way he sounded like that.  

“Cute!” Gon said.  “We used to keep pigs back home, it reminds me of the little ones when they’d get excited.  I wish I could hear it to compare.”

“I do not sound like a pig,” Killua protested.  “I sleep silently, like an assassin.”

“I think you’re getting yourself confused with your game character,” Alluka said teasingly.  “In real life, you’re not silent.  It’s cute though, like Gon said.”

“Yeah Killua, the piglets are really cute, it’s a compliment to be compared to them,” Gon added.  “Let me show you a photo… they’re so adorable, just like you.”  

“I don’t like this character assassination,” Killua huffed, blushing a bit.  He had no idea what to say to the rest of it.  Gon had always been pretty free with his compliments but… was he imagining it?  Lately it felt like he was getting more personal.  More intentional.  

And Alluka, as much as he loved her, was definitely encouraging him.  

“I could get you a prescription for something to sleep deeper,” Leorio cut in.  “But it does sound harmless.”

Killua buried his head in his hands.  He was feeling way too outnumbered right now.  Kurapika come back, he thought. I need you on damage control, I can’t handle this.  

***

The next week passed quickly enough.  Sometimes Killua wished he’d taken the winter vacation, like Alluka, instead of signing up for accelerated classes over the break. It would have been nice to spend more time with her while she was visiting.  He was worried she’d be bored hanging out in his dorm room by herself while he was at classes, or working on assignments, even though she seemed to be entertaining himself just fine.     

But since he still didn’t have a major, he’d felt it would be prudent to get every distribution credit out of the way this year.  That way, once he did decide what he wanted to do, he’d be able to cover all the credits in his junior and senior year, and hopefully graduate on time. 

And besides that, if they’d both been on vacation, it was possible they’d have been expected to go home over the break.  Neither Killua nor Alluka really wanted that.  

Was it his imagination, though?  Gon was only taking one class over the break, a sports therapy class he’d failed the first time around due to disinterest.  He had a lot more free time than Killua and he seemed to be spending an awful lot of it with Alluka while Killua was busy.  

What did they really have to talk about?  Gon was an outdoorsy type, he loved hiking, physical fitness, mountain climbing and animals.  His sister had always had indoor hobbies, mainly arts and crafts projects and some stuff online that Killua didn’t really understand.  

Sometimes he got the feeling that they were mostly discussing him, but that thought was embarrassing so Killua tried not to dwell on it.  

***

They were back at Leorio’s this week.  

“How was your case brief?  Did you get a good grade?” Alluka asked Kurapika.  He made a dismissive gesture, holding his slice of pizza in his other hand.  “Mfph - fine,” he said, swallowing.  “Though I think the professor dislikes me.”

“How could anyone dislike our ball of sunshine,”  Leorio said, frowning.  “Tell me his address, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Her ass,” Kurapika corrected.  “And it’s not that serious.  We don’t agree on certain legal precedents for rural development cases, that’s all… and I er, got carried away in class the other day.  It was an issue close to my heart.”

“Understable,” Leorio said.  Gon and Killua nodded together.  Kurapika was a passionate, serious person.  That was his charm.  And that was especially true for the issues close to his heart.  If something triggered Kurapika’s sense of unfairness, he tended not to hold back in his expression of disapproval, even if he made enemies in the process.  

“Anyway, it’s done and that’s the important thing,” Kurapika said.  “Now all that’s left are the final exams.”  Killua groaned.  His finals for his accelerated classes were coming up next week; and the week after that, Alluka would be going back to school. Gon bumped their shoulders together in sympathy and he pushed back gratefully. 

“Okay!” Leorio said.  “No more talk about classes - I forbid it!  Only nerd stuff for the rest of the night.”  

***

On Killua’s mind that night as they started to set up the game:  

Killua was feeling anxious, their session had started late and he had a lot of homework due on Monday.   But, at the same time, he’d been reluctant to call out. This was his main time to spend with his friends and Alluka, especially now that the Akido club was suspended until the end of the break.  And truthfully, aside from this group, he didn’t have many - OK, any - other close friends on campus.  

He knew, of course, that he didn’t really need an excuse to hang out - especially not with Gon.  They’d hung out together all the time during their freshman year, to the point that they were sometimes referred to collectively.  As in, what are GonandKillua doing right now?  Do you think GonandKillua would want to come out for bubble tea?  I need an extra set of hands to move the furniture out of my dorm room, maybe GonandKillua could help? 

But as they’d both gotten busier - or at least as Killua had gotten busier - and their schedules had aligned less, they’d found that social time needed to be scheduled just like everything else.  In a day, a certain number of hours were dedicated to going to class; a certain number were dedicated to doing homework and readings (and Killua, despite his seemingly casual attitude toward school, never skipped the readings); and a certain number were dedicated to going out and having fun.  All three of those things were important to Killua - and necessary, if he wanted to stay on campus and not crawl back home where his family were waiting to dictate the rest of his life.    

To casually hang out with Gon was easy, but to deliberately schedule the time was somehow harder.  Killua felt, sometimes, as if he needed an excuse to reach out.  What if Gon was busy?  (He was never too busy for Killua.)  What if it was a bad time to talk?  (It was never a bad time.)   What if Gon already had plans?  (Sometimes he did - Gon was more spontaneous than Killua, but in certain ways he was also a planner.)

Or maybe the problem was just that Killua didn’t know how much was too much.  All those rumors about them as freshmen - what did Gon think about them?  He’d never admitted, to Killua or anyone else, that he saw the rumors as a problem or was offended by them in any way.  Generally, he’d laughed them off or said he didn’t care.  But, he’d reached out less and less often as time went on.  In Killua’s mind, he was probably a bit uncomfortable with the implication that the two of them were, or should be, an item.  Anyone would be, right? 

And besides that, he couldn’t possibly want to spend time with Killua all the time.  Gon wasn’t like Killua, he had a lot of friends from his clubs and classes and he was constantly being invited out to things.  His friendships seemed more casual, less deep.  At least as far as Killua could tell.  Killua didn’t want to inflict himself, his endless neediness, on Gon when Gon wanted space for other friendships.  So, he kept the distance that Gon had put between them.  

But he wasn’t going to call out of any of these sessions.  He’d take any excuse.  

***

“How is it you guys managed to take more damage this week with more fighters?”  Leorio complained.  “And on a random encounter on the road, too.  You’re all lucky I’m a healer character, no one else in this party has Constitution worth a damn.”

“Sorry, everyone,”  Alluka said glumly.   She’d gotten a particularly bad roll on a wild magic side effect, and what had been meant as a simple multi-target fire spell had rebounded not just on her, but on the whole party for triple the damage. 

“It happens,” Kurapika said.  “That’s the drawback to the warlock class, and to that spell in particular.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,”  Gon said. “I thought it was cool how you turned into a dragon and roasted everyone. That was dope…”

“Yeah, it was just an unlucky roll sis,” Killua said.  “By the odds, you still made the right call.”

“Thanks for making me look like the asshole, guys,”  Leorio said.   “Alluka, I was just joking… it’s a long-running joke for me to make fun of these assholes for not caring about their health and always needing me to patch them up.  I wasn’t calling you out.”

“Oh, okay,”  Alluka said, cheering up.  “Thanks, Leorio.”

“You’re welcome… Anyway, what do you guys want to do?” Leorio asked.  “It’s a cold night in the dead of winter, and you all have injuries that need to be attended to. I can only heal two of you right now.”  

Kurapika nodded approvingly, Leorio had remembered to track his spell slots this time.  “Can we make it to the nearest town for a long rest?”  he asked.  “That would probably be the wisest choice.”

“As long as we don’t run into anything else on the road,”  Killua said.  “Besides, Gon is too injured to travel.”  In fact, Killua’s character had been injured more, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.  

“I can make a shelter in the forest if I’m healed,”  Gon said, “It’s one of my skills…. We should probably just sleep out here.”

“In the cold?”

“I can turn into a dragon again, and keep someone else warm… maybe even a couple people warm if they sleep next to me,” Alluka offered.  I’m still warm from the battle… I’ll be like a space heater.”

“Oh yeah, and I can turn into a bear!”  Gon said.  “I’ll be fine too.”

“I have a concealment spell that will keep us hidden during the night,”  Kurapika observed.  “Though it’ll mean Leorio will have to use his other healing spell on me, unfortunately.”

“What’s unfortunate about that?”  Leorio said.  “You get hurt, I heal, that’s how it works.” 

“What about me?” Kilua said.  “I’m a human, remember… and I’m bleeding too.  The temperature’s below freezing, that’ll cause the blog vessels to narrow and restrict blood flow.  My heart’s gonna be working overtime to circulate the blood through my body and I could easily die in my sleep during the night.  Oh, and when the temperature drops the blood doesn’t coagulate as well either.  Most trauma patients die from bleeding out in cold temperatures.”

“All of that is medically accurate,” Leorio said, “But also, I question how it is you always know the most morbid shit.”

“You’re just jealous of my wide-ranging medical knowledge, old man.”

“Damn straight I’m jealous, some of us actually need to study this shit...”

“I’ll keep you warm, Killua,” Gon said.  “I’ll be like a big hairy blanket, we can stay together for warmth.  I’ll be on one side, Kurapika and Leorio can lie next to Alluka on the other side.  If we’re all in the shelter together, we should be warm enough.”

“Works for me,” Leorio said. “So who am I healing?”

“Gon and myself,” Kurapika said.  “Alluka’s injuries aren’t as serious and Killua can do basic first aid on himself.  As long as he stays warm, he should be fine.”

“That work for you, Killua?”  

“...Sure,”  Killua said.  He was still questioning why he was cuddling Gon in this scenario.  Why not Alluka instead? 

But, he wasn’t going to say anything.

***

They settled in for the night.  Despite Killua’s serious injuries, he’d managed to pass the perception and investigation checks to find them a hidden clearing where they could rest.  Gon turned into a bear, and used his strength to uproot several trees and arrange them into a lean-to.  With Alluka in dragon form in front of the lean-to, blocking the wind, and Gon in his bear form in the back it was, as promised, quite warm. Kurapika settled into a meditative posture, preparing to cast his concealment spell through the night.  Leorio lay down next to him, exhausted from the effort of fully healing two idiots who didn’t care enough about their own safety. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Kurapika noted that Gon’s bear spell had begun to reverse.  At his level, he could only keep it up for four hours at a time and he’d already been in bear form for an hour before they’d all gone to sleep. 

Sometime past midnight, Gon returned to his normal human form and felt the cold seeping in.  He pulled Killua closer, worried for his friend’s injuries - what Killua had described as “the triad” of Hypothermia, Acidosis & Coagulopathy. Killua, seriously injured, didn’t wake up but instinctively moved closer to Gon (according to Kurapika).  The two of them stayed tangled together for the rest of the night, as close to Alluka’s side as they could fit in the small, closed space. 

***

“What the hell, Kurapika,”  Killua said, blushing furiously.  “Stop making things up about my character!”

“Don’t you think that’s how it would have happened?”  Kurapika said.  “You’re the one who’s always making things realistic.  You convinced me, hypothermia is a serious risk for your character right now.”

“Well yeah, but I should get a say in this!”

“I forgot the bear spell would be reversing,”  Gon said thoughtfully.  “But I like how this turned out better… yeah I think this is way better than if I’d just stayed a bear.”

“Me too,” Alluka said helpfully.  “Stop overthinking things brother, it’s a cute story.”

Killua buried his head in his hands.  He’d been so right. Gon was out for him and Alluka too.   Even Kurapika was on their side.  He’d never felt this outnumbered in his life.  

Leorio patted him on the back.  “Just accept it, man,” he said kindly.  “Gon said he likes it.”

“Is that true, Gon?”  Killua asked from between his fingers, not looking up.  “Do you like this?”

Gon took one of Killua’s hands in his, gently pulling it away from his face and forcing Killua to look away, biting his lip, to avoid Gon’s eyes.  He was afraid of what he’d see there.  

Gon brought Killua’s hand to his lips, and kissed it.  Then he laced their fingers together and swung their joined hands in a circle, drawing Killua’s eyes back to his.  Once he saw the look there, he couldn’t look away. 

“Yeah, you dummy,” Gon said warmly.  “I love this.”

***

In the end it was that simple.  With Alluka’s blessing, they were officially a couple by the end of the week.  

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When We Were Young Part Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Not beta-read I hope everyone's had a good week and is doing well :) Thank you for all of the likes/reblogs/replies!! Warnings: Uuuuuh none Summary: “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.” 

“You seem a little agitated, if you don’t mind my saying so.” You did mind her saying so, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be irritated with Mrs. Lloyd. She was Uncle Cornelius’ housekeeper, had known you since you were very young, and was familiar with your moods. “I’m not particularly looking forward to this evening,” You excused. Mrs. Lloyd glanced at you in the mirror as she adjusted the off-the-shoulder sleeves of your royal blue evening gown. “Could it have anything to do with the fact that Lord Dawson will be in attendance?” She asked. “Among other things,” You replied stiffly. She hummed, lifting her hands to smooth over your hair. “Shall I tuck a flower into the braid? I got a lovely bunch of gardenias at the market this morning,” Mrs. Lloyd offered. She didn’t wait for your answer before she headed for the door. “Why gardenias?” You asked, turning to look at her. “They symbolize purity and gentleness,” She told you. You grimaced. “Are there any flowers that symbolize resentment?” You asked. Mrs. Lloyd frowned. “Petunias. But I didn’t buy any of those.”

-- “It’s the last thing this country needs, reform,” Mycroft had been prattling on for nearly twenty minutes now. Most of the men’s voices uttered murmurs of agreement, though you noted Sherlock’s was absent. You glanced in his direction to find him eyeing the man that had been seated across from you. Lord Fredrick Adelbert Dawson did cut a fine figure, you couldn’t deny it. With a sharp, pointed jaw, dusty blonde hair, hawk-sharp steel blue eyes, and an aquiline nose, he tended to draw the eye of many a young lady. He had even drawn yours when you’d first met him. And then you’d had a conversation with him and any interest you’d had faded quickly. You lowered your eyes to your plate as you saw Sherlock’s gaze flit to you.

“Come now, gentlemen, I do believe we’re boring our companions,” Cornelius chuckled, casting looks around the table, “Perhaps Mr. Holmes could tell us about the case he’s currently working on?” You felt yourself grow tense as everyone’s attention shifted to Sherlock. If he was rattled by this sudden spotlight, he didn’t show it. His face retained its usual mild expression; the only noticeable change was a now quirked brow in Cornelius’ direction. “What is it you’d like to know?” He asked. “Whatever it is you can tell us,” Cornelius pressed. “I’m not sure there’s much Sherlock can say about this one at present,” Mycroft’s voice was tight as he reached for his glass of wine. You watched him take a rather long sip before he lowered the glass to the table. The hand that had been holding it rested on the cloth, balled into a fist. “Is it because it’s confidential, or is it simply dreadfully boring?” Lord Dawson asked. You cast Sherlock a glance, watched him tip his head and narrow his eyes at the question. Oh dear. “I’ve never come across a boring case, Lord Dawson. Some have perhaps been easier to solve than others, but the truth is never boring.” “The truth?” Dawson repeated, brows raised in amusement, “What excitement can one find in the truth?” “About as much excitement as you find at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. Is it still under the management of Madame Vestris?” “Sherlock,” Mycroft hurried to hiss from the other end of the table. But the damage had been done. You watched as the blood drained from Dawson’s face. The comment had landed with the other gentlemen at the table, and, unfortunately, with you. Uncle Cornelius, in one of his more intoxicated states, had once made mention of ‘the pretty ladies he’d been in the company of’ at the Theatre Royal. You weren’t naïve; you knew that they were ladies of the night. You reached for your glass of wine, avoiding the eyes of both Sherlock and Lord Dawson as they looked to you for a reaction.   “I quite loved H.M.S. Pinafore!” Cornelius piped up in the hopes of breaking the tension. -- After dinner, the ladies had adjourned to the sitting room for a glass of wine and some conversation; the men had remained in the dining room for brandy and cigars. You had only been able to stand the chatter for a few minutes before you excused yourself. You stepped out into the garden, sighing into the night air and allowing your shoulders to sag just a little. Dinner had been no less than a disaster. Even after Cornelius had moved the conversation on, there had been glares and harsh words veiled as polite conversation between Sherlock and Dawson. You had hated it; you knew that this would be awful, but you couldn’t have fathomed it would be nearly this bad. “Are you cold?” You jumped at the sound of his voice. Sherlock held his hands up in apology as you brought your hand up to your chest, feeling your heart pound. “No,” You lied, the word harsh in your irritation. If he knew you were lying, he didn’t call you on it. Sherlock turned, beginning to wander around the garden in silence. You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to warm them as he was looking elsewhere. As you saw him turn back toward you, you quickly lowered your hands, clasping them in front of you. “What are you doing out here?” You asked. “I wanted some air,” Sherlock excused. “There’s plenty of air inside.” “And you?” Sherlock asked, “What drew you out?” “... It was too warm in the sitting room,” You fibbed. Sherlock hummed, clearly unconvinced before he began to wander the garden again. “Did they teach you to lie at finishing school?” He had meant it to be a joke, but you nodded and said, “In a way.” His brow furrowed. “Explain,” He requested. You looked down at your hands, considering. “Well... You’re taught to comport yourself according to the rules of society. How to sit, how to eat, how to smile, how to speak, how to laugh. And you’re taught to act that way regardless of however you may truly be, or however you may feel. You learn to become someone else, for the sake of society...Though everyone tells you that it’s for your own sake.” When you looked at Sherlock, you found him watching you closely. “...Promise me you’ll find Enola before Mycroft does,” You pleaded softly. His mouth turned down in irritation. “I’m doing everything I can, dove,” Sherlock swore. “If you were doing everything, you wouldn’t be taking breaks to ruin dinner parties,” You retorted. Sherlock grunted, turning away from you. “Your Lord Dawson is quite the character,” He commented. The butterflies in your stomach began to swirl about in an uneasy flurry. “How so?” You asked. “Well, he’s quite blunt, firm in his opinions. He seems to be under the impression that you’re meek, soft...Though maybe that was the fault of the gardenia,” he glanced back at you. You let out an irritated huff, reaching up and yanking the flower that Mrs. Lloyd had put in your hair out, tossing it on the stone bench near you. You glowered at the sight of Sherlock’s amused smile. “I’m sure Mycroft will be quite cross with you for what you said to Fredrick,” You commented. “Fredrick?” Sherlock repeated, stopping in his place, a thread of incredulity in his tone. You arched a challenging brow, silently daring him to comment on the name further. Rather than press, Sherlock said, “I’m sure Mycroft is already taking the pains to smooth things over. You’re familiar with Dawson, do you think he’s amenable?” “Your brother has a reputation for being persistent to the point of ruthlessness. I’m sure his success is imminent.” “I wasn’t asking you about my brother,” Sherlock pointed out. He tucked his hands behind his back, regarding you. “...Could you be happy with him?” The question took you aback, but your answer was prepared - it was the same thing you’d been telling yourself for months: “My family would stop worrying about my future. It would be a weight off of their mind, and therefore mine.” “That isn’t an answer.” “Yes it is,” You argued. Sherlock considered this. “I disagree,” He finally said, “Let me ask again.” He began to cross the garden toward you in slow, steady steps as he spoke, “Would you be happy, being Lady Dawson? Attending opening day at Ascot? Wearing the latest fashions? Having your name in the papers whenever your husband takes up another of his several affairs?” Your stomach churned uneasily, heart pounding as Sherlock stared you down. “Stop it,” You mumbled. “Bearing two, three little lords or ladies? Shipping them off to school--” “Stop it!” You snapped more loudly. Sherlock went still at that, close enough for you to see the flicker of shock in his eyes. You shook your head a little bit, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment to quell the tears that had begun to prickle, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you looked at him again. “You’re just as bad as Mycroft sometimes, you know? Prodding me to see how quickly you can get a rise out of me like I’m some experiment and not a person. It’s cruel.” Then you saw it again - the flash of hurt that had crossed Sherlock’s face back at Ferndell. But it didn’t disappear this time. Instead it settled, twisting his handsome features as his eyes lowered to the ground. “You did it when we were young, too. Maybe it was fair then, maybe I was just this irritating noise-making thing that you wanted away from you. But we’re not children anymore,” You reprimanded him, “And what I may have to do to maintain my family’s social standing is none of your concern, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock looked at you then, eyes skating over your face before he met your gaze. “Your eyes are red,” He said. Irritation shot through you. “I’m not a case, Sherlock,” You sneered before you turned away, intending to leave. Sherlock’s hand caught hold of yours, stilling you. “Let go,” You hissed. “Dove.” His tone was beseeching, gentle. You didn’t trust it. “Let go of me,” You demanded. He did, and you strode away, leaving him alone in the night. -- “Are you alright? ... My dear, you’re shaking,” Mrs. Lloyd gripped you by the shoulders, steering you back into the study. “I-- It was colder than I anticipated,” You excused. You allowed yourself to be steered into a chair by the fire, folded into a blanket, the others fussing about you catching your death. No one noticed the gardenia missing from your hair. No one noticed the white petals peeking out from the pocket of Sherlock’s jacket as he bid Cornelius a good night. -- “Breakfast is on the table. And there’s been a delivery for you - it’s in your study,” Your mother informed you. You thanked her quietly before turning back to your vanity to finish pinning up your hair. You were glad to be home. Your last two days in London had been entirely uneventful. You’d met with your father’s other investor (with minimal condescension; the gentleman had actually been somewhat pleasant) and dropped in on your aunt one more time before traveling home. You hadn’t heard from Dawson, which was a relief. You’d heard nothing from Sherlock. That should’ve been a relief, but it was, in fact, agonizing. You told yourself it was because it meant that you had no news of Enola, but you knew that it was more than that. You couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you may’ve said or done if you’d turned back to him when he’d wanted you to. You hadn’t sought him out despite this curiosity, either in person or by post; he had a case to work on. Besides, you didn’t know what you’d say to him even if you did see him. You two seemed to turn to bickering when left to your own devices. Your curiosity about the delivery won out over your hunger, and you went into your study. There was a beautiful white satin glass vase sitting on your desk filled with purple hyacinths. You knew what those flowers meant well enough - you’d sent them to your Aunt Mary the last time you’d failed to send her a formal thank you note for a dinner party you’d attended at her home. Purple hyacinths were for apologies. You stepped closer to them warily, gently fingering the petals. Your eyes fell to the envelope beside the vase, and your stomach gave a little flip. Sherlock’s handwriting hadn’t changed after all this time; his penmanship had always had a crisp, almost tight quality to it. You picked the envelope up, pulling the note out. Please forgive me, dove.                                    -S.H. At the very bottom of the note was an address for Miss Harrison’s Finishing School. Tag list: @run-through-wa11s ; @thefallenbibliophilequote ; @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem ; @maan24​ ; @awkward-walking-potato​ ; @madalore​ ; @alexa-lightwood-blog​ ; @chelseaxaz ; @marwritesgood​ ; @runawayolives​ ; @parkerismybaby​