#au fanfic

[kittenfangirl20]

Another Hazbin Hotel fic I am thinking of doing is an AU where Adam is able to tell he was in love with Lucifer in Eden and it is Adam who runs away with Lucifer. Then when Lucifer falls, Adam is turned into a Demon and the curse placed on Adam is the opposite of the one placed on Lilith who was unable to bear a child. Adam is now cursed to bear Lucifer’s children and in order to birth the child he must have pain inflicted upon him by having the child cut out of him. Adam gives birth to Cain and then Charlie. Since Adam doesn’t leave Hell like Lilith did, when Charlie mentions she wants to help Sinners redeem themselves, Adam gave Charlie his support, but they have to deal with the leader of the Exorcists who is Adam’s ex wife Lilith.

[iikisa]

part 1

so. this is part one of a red dragon!krs fic ive been building up… this first chapter doesnt really have much much interesting scenes as of right now, and I’d love love love the input from everyone on how to continue, ideas for characters, and if theres anything i should consider changing!! that doesnt mean that i’ll be changing everything according to commenters, but i’d value all opinions to help build this plot 🥲

I’ve already finished around 3 similar length chapters and recently got stuck, so think of these posts as drafts and final revisions will probably go officially on AO3. thanks everyone 🤪

———

Oh, Pitiful Dragon (1)

-

Ever since his birth, the child longed for death. If it could take away his pain and grant his freedom, he’d trade anything he had so scarce of already. And on a particularly horrible day— the day that terrible man decided he would rip out his heart and use it for evil— the little child met a god.

The God of Death.

He thought it was ironic, seeing how soon his own demise was due soon. But this God didn’t come to reap his death, rather it came to propose a deal.

And the red dragon would accept any deal to be free of this pitiful life.

-

Kim Roksoo awoke suddenly from his slumber. His vision was black and only began to adjust to his blurred version after continuous blinking. Why was it so dark? And how had he fallen asleep? He was just finishing Volume 5 of The Birth of a Hero series and now— wait, are those chains?!

His eyes blew open and his vision was finally adjusted to the pitch darkness that surrounded him. He tried to stand but winced when pain spiked all across his body. Only then did he realize just how badly injured he was. Why was he so weak? Had someone kidnapped and beat him to a pulp?! He was completely blinded by the inexplicable pain that he hadn’t realized something much more important. No— wait, pain is important! It’s definitely concerning! But… why was his whole body covered in crimson scales?

‘Oh geez, well isn’t this new.’

Shortly after he had that thought he passed out from exhaustion and shock.

-

When Kim Roksoo woke again, he was practically being strangled. He quickly gasped for air and focused in on his current situation. He was being held up tightly by a metal collar on his (very, very sore) neck by some strange man in front of him. His hair was a long, spiky mess of blond and didn’t look very well-maintained. But his eyes… they were bloodshot red and had a crazed glint to them.

‘Crazy bastard…!’

Roksoo’s breathing was beginning to strain more and more, and suddenly he felt something prick beneath his scales painfully. He looked down and saw a clear tube running from his body all the way through an open passageway not so far from him. His blood began flowing through it.

‘Blood— They’re.. taking my blood?’

His thoughts were becoming even more incoherent by the second but after securing the clear tube into the little red dragon, the crazed man dropped him to the floor.

“You’re blood is so pure and vibrant, it’s so beautiful.. just like the color of your scales! It will definitely aid our liege and his cause. Haha!”

All Roksoo could think of was how crazy this lunatic was. He was still heavily panting, because honestly when was he not at this point, but thankfully he hadn’t passed out again. Instead, he glared with all his being towards the crazy bastard standing above him. Unfortunately, it only seemed to excite the lunatic even more.

“Maybe I really should visit you more. That look in your eyes gives me chills!”

Mumbling to himself, the psycho soon left the room through the very passage his blood was being drawn towards, and Roksoo was left alone; unprotected and cold. He hated feeling this way. These people didn’t seem to want him alive for so long, considering his “luxury” treatment. He was going to miserably die at their hands sooner or later. And he was too weak to do anything about it.

His eyes suddenly flashed with memories— no, records— of his fight with the second unranked monster to plague Korea. Lee Soohyuk and Choi Jungsoo… he had let them die. It was his fault and he knew it. It was something he’d regret for the rest of his life. But… they had told him to keep living. To keep living for them. He couldn’t die. It didn’t matter how he got into this situation. He’d rather crawl in shit than die this pathetically. He’d survive his new predicament— this new life that’s been granted to him. He’d survive.

He’d definitely survive to smack these bastards in the back one day.

-

Roksoo had spent weeks in that dark hell. His blood continued to flow from his body to somewhere unknown, he was paid violent visits by that lunatic, and he got weaker and weaker because of it. But his will didn’t waver for a second. Whenever someone came in to check on him, he’d mark it in his mind every time. Soon enough, he learned their patterns and found openings. He finally had a plan to escape this hell, no matter how many holes there were.. it was a chance.

With his limited information, there was only so far he could get, but somewhere deep inside him, he knew he’d manage. So, he followed his instincts. The minute his opening came, he used all the strength he had gathered and focused.

‘Concentrate. Concentrate on that feeling you’ve been accumulating, Roksoo!’

Suddenly, Roksoo felt as if he’d achieved some sort of enlightenment like the ones described in murim stories. He felt an overwhelming warmth spread throughout his body and a rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins exponentially. This power… He didn’t know where it had suddenly manifested from, but he was sure now. He could get out of here using it. His mind and body began working beyond their limits, and eventually everything around him felt like it was moving at a snails pace.

‘Instant..?’

His second ability from his past life, Instant. Time would seize and he could move freely for a short while. With a heavy cost on his body of course.

‘But this… it’s similar to instant, but it’s not completely it. I think— No, I can definitely handle this much better than what I’ve been able to before in Korea.’

His new body must’ve integrated Instant into another power. And this new power was about to help him escape. A small smirk graced his torn and bloodied face. Perfect.

Shackles that were tying his limbs down shattered beneath the little dragon’s feet in the blink of an eye, and in a literal instant he was darting across the passage with his slashed and scarred limbs.

‘Keep going. I have to keep going and get out of here!’

He was sprinting through the corridors, and if anybody had looked his way all they would’ve seen was a long, red blur. A bright light was beginning to seep in between the cracks in the ceiling of the dark man-made cave he was confined in.

‘Screw the consequences, we’re blasting through!’

With incredible speed, Roksoo was right beneath the seeping cracks of light and expanded his unused wings for the first time. His wingspan barely fit within the wide corridor as he spread them out and up, blasting off from his spot on the ground and flying like a rocket towards the ceiling. He was making it out.

Just as he impacted and the dust and debris had shot up everywhere, he spotted a few individuals standing far off in the sunlight. The most notable was a red haired main of fairly tall stature completely frozen in place by Roksoo’s sudden escapade. He wore a strange white mask over his upper face, his eyes a bright red with hints of brown. The person looked far to similar to Roksoo. His prominent crimson red and his own piercing reddish-brown eyes. They would’ve looked entirely the same if it weren’t for Roksoo’s current form.

He only locked eyes with the man for a split second, and continued shooting up into the sky. He began to hear shouts and alarms blaring within his vicinity. He had been encaged in a mountain with a large encampment stealthily surrounding it. He’d remember this exact spot.

Massive fireballs and arrows began piercing the sky in an attempt to bring Roksoo down, but he clumsily maneuvered around each and just barely grazed a few on his crimson scales. Suddenly, a blinding white spear had crossed his vision. And before he knew it, another had pierced right through his wing, tearing it open a considerable amount. Roksoo stifled the cry of pain that threatened escaping his lips, and instead gritted his teeth and continued to fly towards any kind of safety. Anything other than here will be safe, he just needs to lose these bastards first. The adrenaline rush he had originally received numbed all the pain in his body, but he knew that wouldn’t last with his current levels. He had to make use of every last bit of this power that he had in him.

He flew over an ocean and kept flying as far away as he could. Eventually he reached the mainland. The forest underneath him was dark and vast, a perfect hiding spot. He glides over the tree-line and with his remaining strength he just barely managed a suitable landing right by a flowing river. His landing was a little on the rough side and he was still so sore, but… he had finally made it out. He was successful. Now, he could truly live a slacker life! Wait— he still needs to get back at the bastards who had tortured him in the first place. Ah.. he also needs to secure enough funds for his slacker life as well.

Sigh.

Roksoo had much to do before he got to live a peaceful life.

‘But first, let’s just lay here a little while longer…’

Roksoo succumbed to his exhaustion and pain, entering a deep slumber.

———

THANKS FOR READING to the end !! please let me know ur input, things i could change, add, etc, i lack a lot in this field and value ur feedback ! 😋

[sarahowritesostucky]

Author's note: Re-formatted for Tumblr's ToS

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1066

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, dom/sub elements, alpha Steve, beta Bucky, hurt/comfort, wedding night, alternate history, nobility/royalty au, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage, age gap (18/29), enemies to lovers

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

1. A Contract of Engagement

Chapter Summary: It’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. “Please, mom” Bucky says softly. “Please don't make me do this."

Bucky sits despondently on one of the front parlor’s settees.

“Nobody,” he tells his mother, but of course she already knew that was going to be the answer to her question. Bucky hasn’t had interest in courting anyone, and nobody in society has expressed any interest in him. Not since his accident, leastways. His now-lame arm and the scarring that creeps up the left side of his neck have managed to dampen the interest he used to get from suiters. “I don’t want to marry, certainly not now. I’m eighteen for Christ’s sake.”

Winnifred sighs, the pen that she’s had poised in-hand lowering. “James, I love you and I’m sorry, but now is when you have to do it. You’re done convalescing from the accident, and thank God for that. Your finishing school is over, you need to do this.”

“Why?”

Bucky’s mother has never been one to suffer his bullshit. She shoots him a glare. “You know why. It’s only a matter of time before your father’s misconduct is made public knowledge. Once Frank Castle—”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Once that man testifies before congress, your father is sure to be ousted. Weapons smuggling, James? You’ll be completely ineligible. No one will have you.”

“No one like us, you mean. Not everyone has to marry into the Senate, mother,” Bucky snaps. “Christ, we’re probably all inbred at this point.”

“James!”

“I have plans. I want to go to university!” He throws his hands up. “Who even marries their beta first anyway? What’s wrong with this guy that he can’t find an omega?”

“Please,” his mother scoffs. “Captain Rogers is a very reputable gentleman.”

“You don’t know him!” Bucky stands up from the couch, walking restlessly over to the fireplace. “Please tell me you haven’t written to him already?” Winnifred tenses, but then she seems to steel herself and she nods tersely. Bucky curses. “Mother!”

“It needed to be done, James. There are no other prospects and Captain Rogers—”

“Ugh, stop calling him that. What’s his name?”

Winnie purses here lips. “He’s the Lord Steven of House Rogers, and you will be respectful, James.”

Bucky huffs. “Well I’m the Lord James of House Barnes and I—”

“You’re the lord of nothing!” Winnie snaps, standing up from her chair at the writing desk. She’s glaring at Bucky now. “And you never will be, if you don’t marry this man. We’re about to lose everything. Your father has seen to that. Soon House Barnes won’t exist. There will be elections—elections, James! Can you even believe it? We’ll all be common.”

Bucky looks away. “What’s so wrong with that?” he mumbles.

“Maybe nothing for you. Maybe you could manage, go off to university and make something of yourself despite it all, but think of your sisters. They won’t be able to marry well, and they’re omega, so what are they supposed to do? Take positions as shop girls? Ladies’ maids?”

Bucky’s heart lurches and his eyes shoot back to his mother, reproachful. “That’s not fair.”

Winnie’s features soften in sympathy. “I know, Sweetheart, I know.” She gets up and comes over to him, the long hem of her dress brushing the carpet as she goes. She pulls him into a hug and Bucky can’t help but to lean into her. “Oh, Bucky,” Winnie mourns, using his nickname for once. “You’ve always been such a little grownup. Sometimes I forget how young you really are. But life isn’t fair, and I’m afraid this might be where you have to start learning that.”

“Don’t make me do this, mom,” Bucky whispers into the perfumed fall of her hair, though even as he’s saying it, he knows it’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. House Barnes has held one of New Jersey’s two seats since the very inception of the Senate. A hundred and twenty years of tradition, gone down the toilet because of Bucky’s reckless father. “Please,” he says softly. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“It’ll be alright,” Winnie tells him, pulling away from the hug and looking him in the eye. “I promise you. I’ve corresponded with Captain Rogers for several weeks now, and I’m confident he’ll make a good husband for you.”

Bucky shakes his head, angry all over again. “No! He won’t. How could he? I don’t even know him!”

It’s a silly argument, really, since many men of Bucky’s stature enter into arranged marriages. But even still, Bucky is beta: He’s always had this luxurious assumption that he’d be able to fool around for a decade longer than most; get educated, make mistakes, have fun. And now that he’s finally come of age and is on the precipice of actually getting to do those things, he has to go off and marry some old man he’s never met?

The reality of it is worse than a bucket of cold water to the head. “I don’t want to marry a fucking stranger,” he grumps.

“Really, Bucky. Don’t use foul language.”

“And I don’t want to marry some old man.” At his mother's raised eyebrow, he says, “Well he must be old if he’s already assumed the seat?”

“He’s young, actually,” Winnie counters haughtily. “Quite young. Twenty-nine."

"Oh, is that all?" Bucky scowls at the carpet. Twenty-nine, Christ. "When did he assume the seat?"

"Two sessions ago. Senator Sarah Rogers had a state funeral, James. I’d have expected you to remember it.”

Bucky waves his left arm in disdain, showing off his crippled hand. “Forgive me my 'preoccupation' these past few sessions, mother." He regrets his tone as he sees hurt flash across Winnifred's face. Dropping his hand, he sighs and looks away. "This is House Rogers of New York we're discussing, I take it?"

"The sister-seat to House Wilson, yes,” Winnie says, expression perking up as she hurries back to her desk to fetch up the stack of correspondences. “Here, I have his letters if you’d like to—”

“No,” Bucky says curtly. He straightens up and makes to leave the room. “I don’t need to read them. It’s fine. Just arrange everything and tell me when to show up.”

“Oh, Honey …”

“Don’t,” Bucky says tersely. “Just don’t. It is what it is. Guess I’m moving to New York.”

He leaves the room, and assumes that his mother writes another letter to the Lord Rogers, confirming their engagement.

Story Masterlist

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[catb-fics]

Skin to Skin (Dad Van)

Words: 2k

No warnings just fluff for my Valentine’s countdown // Feeding your baby daughter for the first time 💗

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

You'd never understood the concept of crying tears of happiness until now. Sweat-soaked and exhausted, your voice hoarse and dry and your muscles strained and weary, you gently cradled the precious and wondrously beautiful new life that was your baby daughter and you sobbed as you watched her through glassy eyes full of tears.

"She's perfect babe, just perfect. I can't believe it. You did so good... I can't believe that she's ours..."

Van's voice is tight and shaky as he loses the fight to hold back his own tears, wiping them away with the cuff of his shirt sleeve as they track down his cheeks. You wrench your eyes away from your perfect little miracle to look up at him, so much love flowing between you at that moment as you soak up the realisation that you're parents now, no longer just a couple but a family.

"She's beautiful Van. Just look at her. Look at her little nose... and lips... and fingers. Everything's so tiny! I think she has your features, she definitely has your eyes. I think she looks like you already."

You both look down again at the little bundle, all swaddled up in a blanket, big expressive eyes wide open and gazing up at you and it hits you then. This is just the beginning.

You'd thought the birth was the hard part but the visceral pain of labour had already started to dull the moment the midwife had checked over and weighed your daughter and placed her in your arms. The hard parts are up ahead, the sleepless nights and the new-mum worries, the realisation that not only have you both created a little human being but now you have to take care of her for the rest of your lives overwhelming you.

"Nah, she's too beautiful to look like me, she's gorgeous, just like her mummy. I'm so proud of you Y/N, you were amazing. I'm in absolute awe of you love."

His eyes glow with adoration as he looks between you both, slipping an arm around your shoulder as he snuggles in even closer to you on the hospital bed.

"I couldn't have done it without you," you tell him, resting your head his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too... so much," he mumbles into your hair, planting a soft kiss there before he turns his attention back to his little girl, leaning right over her, a fingertip gently running over the apple of her rosy cheek. "Hey there baby girl, I've been waiting so long to meet you... and here you are, more beautiful than I ever could've imagined."

She makes a soft gurgling cooing noise, stretching out a tiny arm, her hand coming to rest on Van's finger. He lets out a delighted chuckle as her small but perfectly formed fingers wrap around his fingertip.

"Look at that! Look at that Y/N! Hey sweetheart, I'm your daddy. I love you so much, me and your mummy love you more than anything. You wouldn't believe."

His voice cracks again as he fights back a fresh round of tears, fascinated and awed by this new life that you've both been blessed with. She blinks up at Van through her long lashes, squirming in your arms, turning her head towards his finger, tiny lips seeking as a small whimper arises.

"I think maybe she's hungry already," you observe. "She definitely takes after you! Are you hungry my little one?"

You shift on the bed, drawing down your nightdress and unclipping your maternity bra, uncertainty taking over as you awkwardly try to manoeuvre your daughter into the position you'd been shown in your ante-natal sessions.

"Are you okay? What can I do? Do ya want a pillow? Here... have one to prop up your arm," Van offers, fussing around you, concern in his eyes as he takes in your worried expression. "Can ya manage? Are ya comfy like that? Shall I get the midwife back?"

"No, no... just let me try," you insist. "It can't be that hard."

Surely it should be the most natural thing in the world? The female human body is literally designed to birth a child and feed and nurture it, but even so your head is full of countless stories you've read on baby blogs online about breast-feeding struggles. Your little girl latches on hungrily but then quickly pulls away, her whimpers growing stronger, her small fingers pawing at your skin.

"Shit... this is harder than it looks," you curse nervously, gathering your baby up in your arms to try switching sides, groans of frustration bursting from you as you struggle to get your positioning right. "Something's wrong, I'm not doing it right. I just can't seem to get it right!"

Your eyes flick up to meet Van's anxious expression but then quickly back down, not wanting him to see the hot tears that are brimming in your eyes. Tears of tiredness and worry and frustration this time.

"You're doing great babe, really... you are. We could just give her a bottle though... just this once... I'm sure it'd be fine..."

"No!" You cut him off bluntly, your voice coming sharper and with more force that you intend. His eyes widen and his face creases and you soften then, quickly checking yourself. "I didn't mean to snap," you explain. "You know I want to do this myself, it's really important to me. I just need a bit of time to get it right... that's all."

"Okay... okay... I just want to do as much as I can. I'm sure you'll be feeding her like a pro in no time though! You can do anything that you set your mind to... you'll see... you always do."

Van grins a warm encouragement, one hand gently stroking at the downy hair on your baby's head, the other smoothing down over your back. You both watch as her tiny lips latch on again, a surprisingly strong suction this time that makes you gasp. You look up at Van, a huge smile of triumph breaking out.

"She's doing it... she's actually doing it!" You whisper, excitedly but quietly lest you break the spell. Van looks back at you with pride and reverence in his eyes, shaking his head slightly like he still can't quite believe that the last tough ten hours of labour since you arrived at the hospital have just taken place.

He leans even closer, peering in wonder as he takes in the scene. "Just look at you both like that... look at her go! She's proper guzzling! S'fuckin' amazing innit?"

"Shh... no swearing, remember?" You gently scold him with a smirk. "Don't want her growing up foul-mouthed like her Daddy!" You're only joking and he knows it, breathing a quiet 'sorry love' in between a whispered laugh.

You're both silent then for a long moment, you leaning into Van's warm embrace, your daughter contentedly suckling at your body's wonderful nourishment, a picture perfect scene that you know will be imprinted in your memories forever.

"How's it feel anyway?" Van breaks the silence eventually, folding the neckline of your nightdress carefully back where it's fallen over your daughter's face.

"It's just... weird... feels weird... kinda strange..." You pause, searching for the right words, quickly adding "in a good way though... a really good way. It feels bloody amazing actually. I can't believe I'm actually doing it. I'm actually feeding our baby Van... our daughter... our little girl. Can you believe it?"

You break off into a delighted giggle, only distracted when the sensation of your baby suckling changes, looking down to see her tiny jaw slacken as her lips purse and pucker as she pulls away. A small trickle of milk pools in the corner of her mouth which you quickly wipe away with a muslin cloth.

"Oh my god look at her!" You laugh, watching her eyelids fluttering as she blinks up at you sleepily, looking almost dazed. "That's the exact same look you get when you've had too much to drink!"

"Milk-drunk!" Van sniggers, lifting his arm away from your shoulder as he shifts on the bed. "Must be good stuff! Not surprising really... considering where it's come from!"

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow lightly, then you set about propping your baby up on your lap, gently rubbing soothing circles on her back which elicits a tiny burp, smiling to yourself that you've already overcome such an important first milestone of motherhood.

You're so caught up on making gooey eyes at your daughter that you don't realise what Van's doing, but detecting movement out the corner of your eye prompts you to look around. To your surprise and puzzlement, Van's sitting there propped up against the headboard of the hospital bed unbuttoning his shirt. The first four buttons are already undone and he's starting on the fifth when you speak, stilling him momentarily.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"It's my turn now, c'mon pass her over," he smiles, popping open the last button and holding out his arms, his shirt falling open to reveal his bare chest.

You just stare at him, completely befuddled, wondering whether maybe he's been sneakily siphoning off some of the gas and air whilst your back's been turned. "C'mon," he urges. "Ya can't keep her all to yourself! I'm desperate to hold her!"

"Sure... sure..." you mumble, gathering up your precious little bundle and getting gingerly to your feet, wincing slightly as you shuffle over to Van. You stop, hovering over him whilst he looks at you expectantly, bursting with eagerness. "What's with stripping off though? I'm not being funny, but you haven't exactly got... the right equipment!"

He grins, shaking his head. "Course not love, but I'm just thinking about what the midwife said... you know, in the ante-natal classes. About how dads could get involved? Skin to skin or summat... s'posed to be a good way to bond."

"Oh... so you were listening then?" You tease good-naturedly, recalling all the daft jokes Van used to relentlessly crack during the sessions, no doubt a cover for the nervousness he'd never admit at the prospect of becoming a dad.

You can see it now, the slight tremble in his hands as you place your baby carefully in his outstretched arms, the gentle way he supports her head and tiny body like she's made of the finest china and he's frightened that she might break.

"Oh wow, she's so tiny... she's as light as a feather. And so, so beautiful... just perfect. How did we create something so perfect, eh?"

You hear him suck in a shaky breath which he blows out quickly, leaning back against the headboard and bringing his daughter closer to his body. He lifts her carefully and positions her so she's pressed flush to his chest, then he begins to untuck the blanket that's swaddled around her, delicately pulling it free.

"Look at you... all wrapped up like a little burrito!" He chuckles. "C'mon sweetheart, come and lie on daddy. Gonna take good care of you... you and your mum. I love you both so much."

He dips his head down to plant a small kiss on your baby's head and she makes a contented cooing sound, nuzzling into his bare chest. He's cradling her with one hand, the other stroking soft, soothing circles on her back. You feel your heart swell with emotion watching the two of them together, your precious little girl so serene and comforted, the way Van looks down at her so dotingly and protective.

"Thank you Y/N," he murmurs, voice a little choked as he looks up, meeting your eyes which again are brimming with tears of emotion, his own looking glossy too.

"For what?"

He smiles, warm and genuine. "For making me so happy. Don't think I've ever felt this happy before... ever."

[your-divine-ribs]

Expectations (Dad Van)

Words: 3.2k

Valentine’s Day when you’re heavily pregnant, no warnings just fluff 💗

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

It wasn't getting any easier. You were eight months pregnant and ready to pop. Your back ached, your muscles were strained and you were bone-weary tired. Since your perfect little rounded baby-belly had grown exponentially with no signs of slowing down you'd barely had more than three hours unbroken sleep, tossing and turning in bed at night in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable and getting up for frequent toilet breaks, and that wasn't the only problem. You felt like your body wasn't your own anymore, that the baby wasn't just taking up temporary residence but had moved in and completely taken over. The feeling was akin to being a lodger in your own house.

Of course you didn't begrudge the little one, you already loved her more than life itself and you'd not even met her yet, but boy were you impatient now. The pregnancy glow had dissipated quickly as you'd entered the third trimester and now you just felt huge and cumbersome and heavy and just so bloody exhausted, not to mention thoroughly undesirable. Not that your boyfriend would agree. If anything he just craved you all the more, showering you with affection and compliments and tender touches that quickly turned needy. He literally couldn't keep his hands off you, and who were you to deny him when he made you feel so good?

It had been a long day at work and you let out a drawn out sigh of relief as you pulled up on to your driveway. The promise of maternity leave was now only two weeks away but it may as well have been two years the way the days stretched on ahead of you seemingly endlessly.

"Hey, I'm home!" You called into the quiet house, ears straining for a response, a smile stretching on your lips at the faint call of "up here love... come on up... I've run you a bath..."

In truth you were envious of the way that Van's career gave him the freedom to work the hours he chose, letting him shun the 9 to 5 rat-race that you were embroiled in, but at times like this you were thankful. Now you were on the home stretch of your pregnancy he'd cancelled all touring and engagements and he was there waiting for you each day after work with a warm hug and a smile. He wasn't the typical house-husband type and his domestic skills left a lot to be desired, but he was trying so hard, and that was the important thing.

You hung up your coat and trudged up the stairs, the effort quickly leaving you panting for breath, unbuttoning your blouse and shrugging out of it as you went.

"Did ya have a good day love?"

Van looked up as you entered the bathroom, his eyes quickly leaving yours to trail over the expanse of your swollen belly. You didn't think it was possible to convey love as much from just a look but it was blatantly obvious the way that his eyes lit up as he gazed on your heavily pregnant form. It caught you off guard every time, a warm glow erupting in your chest as he quickly crossed to you with his arms outstretched.

"It was okay I guess, just the same old shit every day. I'm just so tired and everything aches. How about you? What've you been up to?"

Van's hands curled around your hips as he looked down on you. "Well I finished painting the nursery at last. It's looking really good now, all ready for our little princess."

Again his gaze sank to your belly, a hand tenderly brushing over your skin as he crouched down to talk directly to the large bump. "And how's my little lady doing? You been behaving yourself for mummy today?"

He was answered with a kick and you giggled at the perfect timing. You were certain that your unborn daughter could pick out Van's voice as she often responded to it, livening up immediately when she heard him. You often found yourself day-dreaming, fast-forwarding in your head, picturing Van and her laughing and playing, cooking up wild scenarios and going on epic adventures limited only by a child's imagination, the perfect duo. You just knew that they were going to be partners in crime and you'd probably end up on the receiving end of their mischievous pranks before she'd even learnt to talk properly. And you couldn't wait.

"She can hear you, she's kicking! Here... put your hand right here!"

You placed your hand atop Van's, sliding it across your tummy to where a little foot or hand or elbow was currently pummelling you from the inside, watching Van's expression turn to wonderment as he felt the vibrations through your skin.

"Yeah, yeah I can feel her! Hey little one! Whatcha doing in there?" He looked up at you. "She's got a right kick on her hasn't she? I swear she's gonna be a footballer." Back to your belly. "You gonna play for United yeah? Make your daddy proud?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "More like a boxer I'd say. She's been kicking the shit out of me all day, using my bladder as a punch bag!"

Van chuckled, leaning in to plant a kiss just above your navel and then rising to his feet and indicating the bath.

"You gonna get in then before it gets cold? I've just got some stuff to do downstairs."

Your brow creased into a little frown, disappointment flickering through you. "You not joining me? You know... 'cause it's Valentine's Day and all that? Make up for not even bothering to get me a card or a bunch of roses!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, letting mock-annoyance tinge your words. You weren't really bothered. You knew that he hated the commercial side of Valentines and to be honest you did too, but you couldn't resist teasing him. His eyes widened, feigning offence.

"You really need me to get you a sappy card and a bunch of over-priced flowers to show my love for ya? Nah... that just won't cut it. Got something else planned haven't I? And it's much better than all that..."

He trailed off, his voice mysterious which instantly kicked your intrigue into overdrive. He was wearing that cheeky little smirk on his lips now that made your pulse quicken and you wondered what he had planned.

"Are you gonna make love to me on a bed of rose petals?" You grinned up at him, watched him shake his head. "Whisk me off to Paris maybe?" He pulled a face.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now go on, have your bath... relax for a bit. Then come downstairs straight after, yeah?"

"Okay, okay. This'd better be good McCann!"

"Oh it will be!"

He shot you a cheeky wink and leant forward to press a small kiss to your cheek, then he was darting out of the bathroom and bounding quickly down the stairs, his footsteps receding as you heard him moving down the hallway.

The bath was just what you needed and you sank down into the fragrant bubbles, feeling the knots of tension loosen as your muscles soaked up the heavenly warmth. You didn't even realise that you'd fallen asleep until a loud crashing sound wrenched you out of your slumber and you sat bolt upright, water sloshing over the side of the tub.

It was completely quiet and you began to think that maybe it was the remnants of a dream, but then you heard another noise, a metallic thunk followed by a string of curses. What the hell was he doing down there?

The piercing sound of the smoke alarm gave you your answer and you groaned out loud. Van's disastrous forays into cooking were almost legendary and you were still haunted by the time he almost set the kitchen on fire trying to flash-fry a steak. Thankfully catastrophe was averted and the only casualties were his singed eyebrows and a bruised ego, but it could have been a lot worse. Heaven knows what carnage he could be causing downstairs right now.

So you reluctantly hauled your pregnant frame out of the bath tub and dried yourself down with a fluffy towel which you quickly secured around your chest, opening the bathroom door and calling down the stairs.

"You alright down there? What's going on?"

The reply was immediate, shouted back up with gusto. "Yeah, everything's fine! Don't worry! Got everything under control babe! Just had a... minor mishap..."

You sighed, considering returning to the bath, but the warmth had started to leech from the water and the skin on your fingertips had started to shrivel so you pulled the plug and turned to look at your reflection in the large mirror situated over the sink, letting the towel drop to the floor. Wiping away the condensation you were met with a version of yourself that you barely recognised. Your skin was stretched tightly over your stomach which was now protruding that much that you could no longer see your feet. Your breasts were swollen and heavy, having gone up two cup sizes... much to Van's delight. Then there were the stretch marks. A network of fine red stripes stretching all over the underside of your baby bump. Tiger stripes. You hated them with a passion, even knowing that eventually they'd fade to faint silvery lines, but Van wouldn't hear you moan about them. You smiled to yourself as you recalled him kissing them tenderly, telling you that they were simply part of you, so he loved them just as much as the rest of you.

Another barrage of curse words drifted up from downstairs, snatching your attention away from the mirror and you grabbed for your fluffy robe, slipping into it and padding downstairs quickly on your bare feet.

You could smell the acrid scent of burning and see the air thick with smoke before you'd even pushed fully through the kitchen door and you braced yourself when you did, coming to a stop with your mouth agape, stunned by the sight before you. There were discarded pans in the sink coated with congealed burnt on food and boiled over pots on the stove. Dark splotches of a thick red sauce was sprayed up the usually pristine white cupboard surfaces. But that wasn't what really caught your attention.

There in the midst of it all was Van, his face creased into an awkward smile, splattered with pasta sauce... completely stark bollock naked apart from a garish pink novelty Valentine's apron bearing the words 'Will You Be Mine?'

"Alright love," he said meekly. "I really wanted to make you a nice dinner, but I think I might have fucked it up a little bit..."

You were quiet for a moment, taking in the scene, but not for long. How could you dwell on the kitchen chaos when you were faced with that?

"Oh my god... what the hell are you wearing? Or should I say what aren't you wearing?"

Van's face instantly cracked into a wide playful grin. "Ta-da!" He smirked proudly. "You like it?"

"It's... it's..." you trailed off into another fit of giggles as Van held out his arms and gave you a twirl... and an eyeful in the process. "I don't know what to say! I'm actually speechless for once!"

"How about 'come ere sexy?'"

You crossed the kitchen in a few steps, straight into his waiting arms, both laughing as he tried to pull you in tight for a hug but your huge baby bump prevented your bodies from meeting.

"Think something's come between us!" You quipped, then you pulled back, eyeing the gaudy apron with amusement. "So this is it, eh? This is my big Valentine's present? You practically naked? I'm surprised you didn't jump out of a giant cake or wrap yourself up in shiny paper with a big ribbon or something!"

"You can still unwrap me if ya like love?" He grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe after dinner?"

"Dinner?" You echoed, your eyes darting to the chaos behind him, your nose wrinkling in distaste at the pungent smell of burnt food. You'd long gotten over the nausea of morning sickness but the idea of trying to stomach one of Van's culinary creations was making your gut churn. "So... what did you make?"

"Well... it was supposed to be some posh pasta dish... saw Gordon Ramsey cooking it online. It's just not turned out quite how it was supposed to. I mean, we might be able to salvage it..." he paused, the sheepish look returning as he glanced behind him at the mess. "Or I could just do us beans on toast?" His voice rose up hopefully, face scrunching doubtfully. "Or there's some pizzas in the freezer... or maybe we could get a takeaway?"

"Takeaway sounds good!" You hurriedly blurted, relieved to have a choice that didn't involve Van's cooking, grabbing hold of his hand when you saw the disappointment etched on his face although he was trying to hide it. "Hey, all this is great, I really do appreciate it you know. Don't feel bad about it."

"But I do feel bad love. I really wanted to do something special for you, make it romantic. You do so much and you never complain and I'm just a bit..." he paused, shrugging whilst he searched for the right word. "Useless..."

"Awww don't say that!" You made a grab for his other hand, drawing him close and looking up at him. "You've been doing loads recently. You've completely decorated the nursery, you've been out buying loads of stuff, you've come to all the ante-natal classes with me..."

"Yeah, and I about bloody passed out when the midwife was going through your birth plan. What am I gonna be like at the real thing? I'm probably just gonna go and let you down."

You giggled. "You'll be fine, honestly, you'll see. We both will be as long as we're together."

He smiled then, gave a small sigh and a shrug, and then a little frown creased his features. "I'm trying Y/N, I really am. I've wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember and I'm so excited, but now it's only weeks away I keep stressing, worrying I'm not doing enough. I wanna do as much as I can, look after you, and the baby when she's here." His eyes strayed down to your bump, glowing fondly. "Wanna take care of both of you."

"You're doing great Van, you really are," you assured him. "I certainly got no complaints."

He didn't look convinced. "But I can't even cook a simple pasta dish! And you should have seen me painting the nursery earlier. I swear I ended up with more paint in my hair than than on the walls! I'm just rubbish at all this 'hands on' stuff. And what about when the baby's here? What if I do something wrong? What if I'm a shit dad?"

He looked so earnest it made your heart ache. It was only a few weeks back that you'd been wracked with worries and doubts yourself when you'd been packing your hospital bag in advance as instructed. It had suddenly all seemed too real and too imminent and you'd panicked, wondering how on earth you were actually going to physically birth the baby and then feed and look after her. Van had been right there at your side, a comforting arm around your shoulder, his free hand brushing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks as you'd offloaded all your worries on to him. His gentle caresses and words of comfort had eventually coaxed you around to a more positive state as he'd told you how strong you were and how much he admired you and how you were going to be "the best mum the world had ever seen". Then he'd made you laugh when he'd backtracked and added, "Just don't tell my mum I said that or she'll kill me!"

Now you'd switched roles and you were the one building up Van's wavering confidence. Few people saw this side of him. He was always outwardly so self-assured, but you knew the real Van. The one who took so much pride in everything that he did that anything short of perfection was deemed a failure.

You disentangled your fingers from his so you could reach up and cup his face with both of your hands, thumbs brushing his freckled cheeks.

"You are so not going to be a shit dad!" You told him, your voice coming out firmer than intended which caused his lips to curl into a smile. "You're one of the kindest, most caring people I know. Fair enough, you're a crap cook..." You paused, a laugh bubbling up which Van echoed. "But our little girl is going to the luckiest girl in the world to have a dad like you. I bet there's not many babies that've already got about three albums worth of songs written for them before they've even been born! You're gonna be a great dad and she's gonna love you so much."

He hung on your every word, his smile growing as you spoke, his hands sliding around your waist.

"And I'm gonna love her too. I already do. You wouldn't believe how much Y/N... I didn't even think it was possible to ever love anyone as much as I love you, but I do. And that's a whole lot of fucking love!"

He chuckled, his fingers flexing on your waist, squeezing you gently. You felt so much love and affection at that moment you were sure that you were positively glowing with it. And he hadn't finished yet.

"Honestly babe, I don't know what I did to deserve you. You make me so happy."

"And I love you too," you replied, pushing yourself up on to the balls of your feet as you tilted his face down to meet yours. "Come here you big softy!"

You pressed your lips to his and he practically purred in appreciation, his hands sliding further around your waist as he pulled you as close to him as your baby bump would allow. The kiss was soft and sweet and his lips were warm and enticing, moving slowly against yours, savouring your closeness.

Your hands fell away, reaching for his hips and you smiled against his mouth as you felt the bare skin there. You'd almost forgotten about your Valentines surprise, such a typical Van gesture.

You pulled away, fixing him with a sexy little smile as your fingers located the apron string, tugging on it until it came undone. He smirked down on you, his eyes simmering with a gentle kind of heat which warmed you through.

"What're you doing love? Thought you were gonna unwrap me after dinner?"

"Yeah well... I changed my mind. Maybe I want my dessert before dinner..."

Then you were both laughing, smiling into the kiss, wrapped up in each other's arms.

[goatcheeseandmilk]

An in progress angsty AU broppy fic i’ve been working on

Summary:

Princess Poppy invites Branch to an “end of school year” get-together to which he reluctantly agrees to attend, unknowing that the events of the night would later reveal deep feelings, emotions, and secrets that leave them both in a painful situation. Now the two of them have to make decisions that could be life changing or end up leaving them both devastated.

if you want to get your heart broken then i recommend this one :)

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Chapter update!

I finally got my butt into gear and started working on the final part of the Same Old Lang Syne inspired fic.

The final part is now the *almost* final part... it was waaaay too long so I've split it (sorry) but part 4 should be finished ASAP, just smoothing out some of the final details.

Anyways, you can read it on FFnet or A03.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

From a scene in Part 8 of the Sapphire Heartverse, which is called Preparation for Madness.

You can read the full official fanfic here

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Prodigal Dragonborn AU

Thinking of a timeslip AU where due to Misadventure, Lucien from PD ends up in some other timeline where time went another way, and he and Miraak didn't meet.

Started out as a Gol Hah Dov AU, and that would be interesting, Lucien seeing a timeline where Miraak has not only hooked up with someone else, but met Lucien, even got on with him, but never showered any of that obsessive devotion on him that Lucien First Acolyte of the Cult of Miraak got without even trying. Not to mention Chry reacting to a Lucien that has Slept With His Husband In The Other Timeline, and GHD Lucien losing his mind and panicking.

However, I couldn't actually write that as GHD is very much not my fic... but I could do one without the GHD elements, and a straight up AU of PD where Melinda fell to Miraak who successfully escaped Apocrypha. And because this Miraak is, to put it mildly, very much still a Dark Lord Dragonborn, he sets out to conquer the world, and two years or so after escaping, has killed Ulfric and taken over Windhelm and the Stormcloaks, legalised Talos worship after acknowledging Talos as an honoured and respected precursor Dragonborn worthy of worship, and is now High King of most of an independent Skyrim.

However, there is a resistance movement. A Certain Someone did not take too kindly to his partner getting killed, and raced back to Whiterun to raise the alarm. And so Whiterun is still independent under Jarl Balgruuf, but it's also home to the resistance militia known as the Merry Men, who wear jester outfits to hide their real faces and carry out guerrilla attacks on Miraak's cultists wherever they find them. No prizes for guessing who they're led by.

The only reason Whiterun has held out against three dragons, Bend Will and the massed ranks of the Cult of Miraak and Stormcloaks is down to Cicero having hit up Madanach, and seeing as the Reach's Jarl bent the knee to Miraak, the Forsworn responded with aid and a magical shield to keep Bend Will at bay. The jester masks are likewise proof against mind control magic.

Anyway PD Lucien finds himself in the midst of all of this, dressed in his First Acolyte robes, probably fell through an Eye of Magnus-caused anomaly. He doesn't fully realise anything's changed - but his resonant sphere isn't resonating, and he can't feel Miraak in his head any more although the bond is still there. Weird and suspicious, but fixable potentially so back to Winterhold he goes. He gets back to Winterhold hoping for tea, a nice cuddle with his husband and the attentions of his cat. Walks into the longhouse... no cat. No Morrigan or Argis or kids. Just Jarl Korir and court, who see the robes and mask, assume he's part of the cult and do at least make him welcome, wanting to know if he's with the High King.

Lucien is looking around at a longhouse still heated and lit with naked flames rather than the steampipes and electric lights he's used to, and is almost afraid to ask what happened to the College. Turns out the Saarthal dig never happened, Miraak nixed the expedition on arriving in Winterhold with his troops, partly to ingratiate himself with Korir and partly for some reason Miraak never did fully explain... as if he knew what they might find there. Anyway, Aren still leads the College, which has accepted the regime change quite easily. Attitudes to magic have undergone a dramatic shift what with a True Nord Dragonborn High King Who Legalised Talos Worship wielding it as capably as any College member.

Lucien just stares mutely at the falling-apart bridge that Miraak never bothered fixing... and with no siege at the College, never needed to destroy either, and resolves to go to Windhelm.

He's let in, cultists looking at the robes then wanting the mask removed, and on looking at his face, look very confused and wonder when he left the city, weren't you at the palace with Our Lord?

"Clearly not, you should take me back there, he's probably missed me!" Lucien says cheerfully. Inwardly he's panicking, because they recognised him?? King Miraak knows Lucien Flavius??

Apparently so. King Miraak is masked and robed, no one ever sees his real face. But he starts on seeing Lucien, especially the robes, because why is Lucien wearing robes like his.

"You are a guest at my court, Lucien, but do not presume more than that. Even Archmagister Viidost doesn't have robes like this... wait, did she enchant these???"

Viidost is summoned and denies ever having seen these in her life, in fact Mr. Flavius is upstairs having tea and studying some Dwemer volumes acquired off Calcelmo in Markarth right now, he's been there for hours. And then Miraak looks closely at Lucien and realises the vennesetiid do not behave normally around him At All, and that he's from a different timeline, and suddenly Miraak has All The Questions.

"Keep Mr Flavius occupied and ensure he does not come to find me for the next few hours. I have a... visitor to entertain."

The resulting conversation is enlightening for both. Won't write it all out, but the main plot beats are this:

King Miraak is not the tyrant he seems. He's actually been quite the enlightened ruler, with schools of Jhunal opening in his territory and the study of magic becoming a little more respectable among Nords.

The Bards College regularly send students on placement to Windhelm to learn history from King Miraak.

The Butcher of Windhelm got caught within weeks of Miraak taking over Windhelm, and the Grey Quarter's been renovated. Argonians and Dunmer are allowed in the city, as are the Khajiit subject to skooma and stolen goods searches.

The Jarls serving him are actually mostly loyal. Laila Law-Giver was restored to Riften after Season Unending's events, and Maven was Bend Willed into submission. That led to Mercer Frey's execution and the return of the Skeleton Key, and Karliah is now a loyal agent of Miraak's. The Guild operates along similar lines to Ankh-Morpork's now. ;)

With Cidhna Mine no longer a prison in Markarth, the Reach is rather more peaceful and the Forsworn are haemorrhaging recruits. Miraak's yet to fight them full on, but he's got plans.

Miraak smashed the Dawnguard questline, brutally slaughtering Harkon personally. He's got Auriel's Bow mounted on his wall but rarely uses it. Serana lives at his court and is one of his closest friends and advisors. Isran is Miraak's right hand in the Rift. (Karliah's the left.)

Alliance agreement signed with Morrowind, who recognised the Free Kingdom of Skyrim and have an Embassy in Eastmarch.

This timeline's Lucien arrived at Windhelm not long before PD Lucien, hoping King Miraak might assist with an expedition to Solstheim to investigate Dumzbthar. This timeline's Lucien is a lot more naive and sheltered and innocent, and fascinated to meet a timeline traveller! Still less a version of him! Goodness, you must tell me all about it.

PD Lucien gives an edited version to his counterpart... but he tells Miraak the truth, seeing the man's not all evil, and even attempts to flirt with him, reasoning it's not cheating to get close to his timeline's equivalent of his husband, is it? It doesn't quite go according to plan but while sex doesn't happen (Lucien is secretly OK with that), an emotional tie does form.

Plot Twist! This timeline's Lucien was working for the Merry Men, hoping to lure Miraak out to Dumzbthar in person where Cicero is lying in wait, waiting for revenge.

Alas for PD Lucien having warned Miraak about what's down there, and that Melinda's partner was an Imperial redhead named Cicero who was an ex-assassin who owned a jester's outfit. Miraak instantly sees the Merry Men connection.

Plot Twist number two - Miraak never died so he still has a lot of Daedric corruption going on. The reason he never removes the mask is that he's got sickly pale grey skin with mottled black blood vessels and completely dark eyes with blue irises the only relief. His tongue and gums are black as well as his blood. Hardly anyone's seen it but he'd not survive long if his real face was ever seen. Miraak rips the mask off to show PD Lucien this after he tries to chat him up, but when Lucien reacts with genuine sadness and kindness instead of revulsion, that's when the emotional barriers give way. A strong friendship forms, and Miraak tells PD Lucien his husband is lucky to have him. Miraak's sense of honour places PD Lucien off limits romantically and sexually, for which Lucien is frankly relieved. But Miraak, after receiving a positive reaction from one Lucien, starts looking thoughtfully at the other one.

Not entirely sure how it'd all work out, especially as I don't normally write the Forsworn as antagonists, nor Cicero, who, let's face it, isn't surviving this.

I'm thinking PD Lucien somehow managing to persuade the other Lucien to switch sides and share his intel on the Merry Men. Dumzbthar trip happens, Cicero joins the party not realising Miraak knows who he is, turns traitor around the Oblivion Gate and PD Lucien gets in the way of the knives just as the portal opens behind Cicero and the last thing he sees before passing out is two Miraaks, one of whom is slaughtering Cicero while the other is healing him and telling him to hold on.

PD Lucien wakes up and suddenly realises the bond is there, and he can feel Saviik, and then realises GRIGIO is purring on his chest, and opens his eyes to see his perfectly healthy husband holding his hand, tears in his eyes.

Took Dumzbthar the longest time to get a lock on the resonant sphere's plane of existence, but Saviik had faith Lucien in any universe would wind up at Dumzbthar eventually and so it has proved. This timeline's Lucien managed to get the facility under control, and now King Miraak has a mighty Dwemer army plus the Liisunvaar at his disposal.

"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, isn't that bad? Aren't you afraid what he might do with it?"

Saviik laughs, wiping tears away. "Niid, lokaali. My first impression of him was you moving to save his life, and him saving yours with his healing magic. You are clearly convinced he's not beyond redemption, and he clearly treasures you. Also we have spoken. He speaks very highly of you and sees you as a true friend, and reassured me he has not taken advantage of you. In return, I have told him the Reachfolk have his daughter and grandson living peacefully among them, and also pointed him Matriarch Keirine's way. If he goes in peace to her, and promises to spare her people, she might help him be healed."

PD Lucien goes home with Saviik to live happily ever after. King Miraak sees him off with the other Lucien at his side, who not-so-secretly hero-worshipped the dashing First Acolyte who was smart and brave and heroic and all the things he's not.

King Miraak is a bit surprised to hear this, telling him he, Lucien of this timeline, is the reason Miraak now has a submarine and automaton army, and that while PD Lucien's stories may have inspired, who is going to help him bring steam power and electricity to his domain once it has peace, hmm?

"What... you don't mean me, do you?" Lucien gasps, going pink, and Miraak nods.

"Yes, Court Scientist Lucien, of course I do."

Lucien is delighted, accepts, wait, he's not going to use the machines to level Whiterun, is he?

No, in fact it turns out with a lot of the Merry Man leadership dead on Solstheim, the militia band falls apart. Balgruuf is a pragmatist at heart and a secret Talos worshipper to boot and agrees to talks now he doesn't have a psychotic motley-clad widower in his court to worry about.

As for the Forsworn, it turns out Madanach is ill and dying and the Forsworn are on their knees. Keirine is the one to agree to a surrender in return for their lives and help for her brother.

One Dwemer oxygen tank for his breathing, and Miraak is able to craft a Shout to sort his mind out. Madanach is, if not pleased at realising he's got to talk terms with Igmund, at least grateful for his life back, even if this is going to require regular shipments of cylinders for the breathing apparatus and regular restoration treatments off Miraak personally to really fix his lungs. How much is this going to cost... all you want is a few hours to talk to Morrigan? Sold.

Keirine's fascinated by the Daedric corruption, but is unsure how to fix. She's never seen anything like it. Still, there are many kinds of Daedric corruption, and a ritual to fix another kind might work on this too. Off to Morthal's summoning circle for a reworked version of the vampirism cure, and Miraak's unstained once more.

Lucien was along for the ride, for science of course, and is delighted Miraak's cured, but also a little sad.

"I suppose you'll be going unmasked more often. Everyone is going to want a piece of you now. Goodness, you're probably going to get suitors! I... oh."

Crestfallen Lucien, who's barely been away from the High King's side since the other Lucien went home... only when Miraak returned to Windhelm and Lucien stayed at Dumzbthar to research more, and they wrote constantly even then. Lucien had seen the stains, and like his counterpart, reacted with sympathy... and a cuddle. Miraak had immediately given him Hugging Privileges and Lucien had enjoyed being in the Inner Circle very much, even if it was blindingly obvious First Acolyte Lucien was definitely the handsomer, smarter and more accomplished of the two of them.

"He is that way because of my influence," Miraak had told him once, smiling at him. "Shall we see what I influence you towards?"

So far, other than long, lengthy discussions about Dwemer engineering, the Dragon Cult, and anything else Lucien had questions about, he wasn't sure exactly what that had entailed. But Miraak had seemed to enjoy keeping him close by and taking him with him when travelling. Mostly to mind the Dwemer machines but Lucien had sometimes wondered.

Regardless, Miraak had seemed to want to spend most of his free time with Lucien, and Lucien had loved the attention... except if Miraak got married, Lucien supposed the new queen might not want the Court Scientist showing up to talk her husband's ear off until the early hours of the morning.

He needn't have worried. Miraak saw all too clearly and asked gently if the idea of Miraak getting married to another and having no time left for Lucien bothered him. Lucien nodded sadly, and then Miraak smiled, leaned down and kissed him, fingers caressing his cheek.

"I already have an heir, and don't need marriage to cement alliances with three dragons at my disposal. In fact, the only power I would ally with that is not already in touch is the Empire to the south. Do you think they would listen if word reached them one of their young nobles was going to be my consort? Do you think your family have enough court influence to persuade the Emperor to be reasonable?"

"I'll ask," Lucien breathes, pink and tearful and oh goodness, the High King just kissed him and proposed. Which is all a bit too much, a LOT too much... but of course he wants to, he's spent months staring at the First Acolyte version of himself getting cosy with the High King and the two of them seeming quite happy together, with Lucien wishing he was even a tenth that cool. Apparently the High King seems to think he's halfway there already.

"This isn't just because the First Acolyte got away, is it" Lucien has to ask. Miraak shakes his head.

"No. He was never mine to have. I was always intrigued by him but I knew he was pledged to another version of me, and knew he'd be thinking of that other man the whole time. I enjoyed his company and friendship but never took him to bed. You though. You're not pledged to anyone. You could be mine. I have been thinking that even while he was still here, but was never sure if you felt the same. Until now."

Lucien isn't sure what to say to that, so settles for a hug instead, accepts the proposal on condition they take things slowly in the bedroom, to which Miraak actually agrees.

Peace talks happen. His mother's instrumental in the whole deal. A treaty and trade agreement eventually result, and peace comes to Tamriel at last. And of course, Lucien gets legally united with Miraak, and physically reunited with his cat.

[sapphyrnidae]

Me, who historically hates geometric lines and lettering: haha what if I started a comic series that requires almost nothing but those two things. 

[mkjulian]

My NekoBen made new little friends :)

I'm writing a fanfic about my AU, obviously, these plants are controlled by Albedo, so you can already imagine what Albedo can do with these plants in Ben~

[queenviserra]

Back into Rhaelys Alternative universe

Rhaenys Targaryen is a famous lawyer of an extremely rich family. However, when her grandfather puts her cousin Viserys in charge of the family law firm in her stead, Rhaenys decides to move to the countryside, to a house she's inherited from her mom, which she's never been to. Upon her arrival, she has an episodic encounter with her neighbor, Corlys Velaryon. Though he is one of the country's most famous businessmen, he keeps a low profile and has a quiet life, which Rhaenys is going to disrupt.

I know, I haven't moved the writing on it as much as I would like beyond a few drafts, but I promise it will update on ao3 soon enough.

[catb-fics]

Kinktober 2023 Writing Challenge

Hi guys welcome to the shit-show which is my first Kinktober Writing Challenge! 🫣 I didn’t manage to write 31 minifics/headcanons and I still need to finish some off but I’m aiming to get 31 completed at some point (hopefully before November 2024!)

Since these got deleted off Wattpad I’m going to post them on here. The masterlist is under the cut and I’ll link them as I post them.

Thank you for reading lovelies, hope you have a good laugh lol 😘 xxx

Masterlist

1. Bad Girl 🖤 Prof Van (spanking)

2. Inside 🩵 Sam Fender (cock-warming)

3. Secretive ❤️ Red Van (thigh-riding)

4. Burning Desire 🧡 Prof Bond (wax play)

5. Truth 💖 I’m with the Band Van (squirting)

6. Sweet Dreams 💙 Ice Cold Van (somnophilia)

7. Daredevil 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (exhibitionism)

8. Borrowed Time 💗 (69) Dad Van

9. Limit 🖤 Prof Van (overstimulation)

10. Confession 💜 Pure Van (corruption)

11. Surrender 🩵 Sam Fender (idk… size kink maybe?)

12. Privacy ❤️‍🔥 Devil Next Door Van (voyeurism)

13. Blade 💙 Ice Cold Van (knife play)

14. Cheat ❤️ Red Van (exhibitionism)

15. The Show 🖤 Prof Van (sex toys)

16. Baby Fever 💗 Dad Van (breeding)

17. Anything ❤️ Red Van (edging)

18. Picture Perfect 💖 I’m with the Band Van (sex tape) WIP

19. Poolside 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (nipple play) WIP

20. Incentive 🖤 Prof Van (orgasm denial) WIP

21. High 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (stoned sex) WIP

22. Miss You 💘 All the Mixed Feelings Van (phone sex) WIP

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

I’m open to suggestions for any of the blank numbers!

Kinktober talk

[your-divine-ribs]

Pick Him Up From Heathrow (Dad Van)

Words: 1.6k

I didn’t manage to write anything for Mother’s Day (yet) so here’s a little Dad Van fic xxx

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

You're tired. And not just a little sleepy. Bone-weary tired. The kind of tiredness that seeps into every fibre of your being and clouds your mind. All you want to do is close your eyes and stretch out your limbs and burrow into the comforting warmth of your bed. The thought of burying your face into the pillow and cocooning yourself in the softest of blankets sounds like the closest thing to heaven right now, but it's not to be. You're at Heathrow airport in the dead of the night, heavily pregnant with a fractious toddler in tow, waiting rather impatiently for the flight from New York to disembark.

"Where's Daddy? He was supposed to be here hours ago! He promised. He said he'd be back in time for dinner and he'd get me ice cream!"

Your little girl's face screws up in frustration, her tiny hands balled into fists in her lap. You reach out a comforting arm around her shoulders and she nestles into your side, pushing her face into the folds of your sweater, sulking.

"It's not his fault sweetie, the flight got delayed. They've had really bad snow in New York so it wasn't safe for the plane to take off. He's here now though. The flight's just landed so we'll see him really soon."

She pushes herself away from you then, stretching up on her tiptoes to see through the crowd, shuffling forwards with an uncertain look on her face. "But I can't see him!"

Her expression is distraught when she turns back to you and you can see the tantrum simmering just below the surface. Like an oncoming storm it roils under her pinched pink cheeks and brews in her tear brimmed eyes. "Come and sit back down Grace, he'll have to wait for his luggage... but it won't be long now, I promise."

"Promise?" She sulks, eyes forlorn.

"I promise," you reply, breathing the vow as you press a sweet kiss to her hair, drawing her to you again. She holds herself taut for a while but eventually you feel her give in, her slight body slumping against yours, head resting on your swollen baby bump.

You always found it hard when Van was away on tour, but now you're not the only one missing him it's even harder. Even though your days are busy and there's a little intruder crawling into your bed most nights to fill the empty space, you sometimes resent the fact that Van's career takes him away from your little family unit.

A soft whimper falls from Grace's lips as she starts to slip into a restless sleep against you. She's worn out, totally exhausted, and you feel a pang of guilt for not being insistent when she'd kicked up a fuss about getting a hotel nearby and waiting for Van there. She could have been tucked up in bed right now, sleeping peacefully whilst you waited, but she'd begged and she'd pleaded and eventually you'd given in, too tired yourself to put up a fight. She was stubborn like that. Just like her dad. And she always won you over. Just like he did.

You smile to yourself, one hand stroking over your belly as you feel the baby stirring, the other pushing back a silky strand of Grace's long hair off her face. Not long now...

And then there he is, all of a sudden, a familiar face in the crowd, his eyes searching the arrivals lounge until they come to rest on you, glowing with that spark you know so well. You feel excitement fizz in your gut as you let out an exhale, breathless as you raise up a hand in a wave. Even though you've been together for many years he still evokes that feeling in you, transporting you back through the years when love gave you that giddy exhilaration, butterflies bursting into flight in your belly as he strides through the terminal towards you.

Your muscles tense, instinctively wanting to rise up out of your seat to go to him and throw yourself into his arms but of course you can't. Grace murmurs in her sleep, little fingers gripping on to your sweater as she shifts where she lays.

"Love, what're you doing here? I thought you'd have got a hotel. It's so late!" Van's eyes are wide with excitement despite the puffy darkness underneath them from his own tiredness and his gaze shifts down to your lap. "Oh, Gracie's asleep. Aww look at her!"

"She's just dropped off. She was so excited to see you she begged for us to wait..." You trail off, suddenly feeling choked now that Van's standing there in front of you, just metres away. "How are you? How was the flight? I've missed you so much. We all have."

"Ughhh, longest flight ever," he complains. "Didn't think we'd ever touch down. God, I've missed you too... you don't know how good it is to see you. My two favourite girls... and of course the little 'un." His eyes linger on the swell of your belly and they look glossy, brimming with love and affection.

And then you feel Grace shift in your arms, her head lifting up as she rubs at her eyes with her hands, slowly at first like she's dreaming but sleep soon falling away when she sees her dad standing before her.

"Daddy... daddy... daddy!" She chants, her voice rising in volume and pitch as she springs on to her feet, arms outstretched as she flings herself into Van's awaiting arms. "You're really here!"

"I'm here angel," he assures her, bending down to scoop her into an embrace, lifting her clear off her feet with ease. "I've missed you so much. Hey... have you grown? I swear you're getting bigger!"

"That's 'cause I've been eating all the Jaffa cakes 'cause you've not been here! Mummy says we should keep it a secret!"

"Are you trying to get me into trouble young lady?" You laugh, rising up on to your feet at last, eager for a proper greeting.

"So you pair have been up to no good, eh?" Van chuckles, arms wrapping around his daughter who's now clinging on to him like a little koala bear, smothering him in kisses.

"Well if you insist on going away all the time we can't promise to behave..." You giggle as you reach for Van, wrapping an arm around his waist, snuggling into the side that Grace isn't attached to, feeling a warm glow of relief flood you when you feel your bodies connecting.

You tilt your head up to him and he dips his down, your lips pressing firmly against each other's. You reach up a hand to tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer, closing your eyes as you press yourself flush against him. You let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment until a tinkling giggle rings out and you break away, smiling as Grace watches on, peeking through her hands which are raised up to her face.

"Ughh Daddy... why do you kiss mummy like that?"

"Because I love her very much and that's what grown ups do!"

He grins down at her and you laugh, resting your head on his chest, wrapping your other arm around your daughter, feeling complete at last now you're all together.

"Well I'm never growing up then!" Grace announces, her face scrunching in distaste. "Boys are stinky and I'm never letting anyone kiss me like that!"

"That's absolutely fine by me Princess!" Van chuckles, bending down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. She rests her head on his shoulder and he looks down on her adoringly before he turns to you. "C'mon let's go... don't think we should drive back tonight though babe, we're all so exhausted. Let's get a hotel shall we?"

"Mmm yeah, definitely. Much as I wanna get home I don't think I can face that long drive. I'm dead on my feet."

You're suddenly aware of how much your eyes are stinging with tiredness, your back aching, your muscles sore. The prospect of being able to lie down on a soft warm bed within the next half an hour is tempting beyond belief. That... and the thought of being wrapped up in Van's arms.

As if he's read your thoughts he cranes his neck to whisper quietly in your ear. "Can't wait to show ya how much I missed ya love..."

He presses his lips to the patch of sensitive skin just behind your ear, sending a little shiver through you, quickly breaking away when Grace starts bouncing in his arms.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, can we go for ice cream first? Please... please? You said so on the phone. You promised!"

Her voice raises up, a pleading whine, fixing Van with big, puppy dog eyes. They're the exact same colour as Van's, pale greeny-blue like the sea. Ocean eyes.

"No ice cream now, it's the middle of the night! Sleep for you little one."

"But I'm not tired!" She protests, and even as she says the words you see her eyelids drooping, fighting the impending slumber that's sure to claim her the minute you get into a cab. "I'm gonna stay up all night!"

"Well... we'll see about that," you smile, reaching out a hand to gently brush her face, her long eyelashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks. You and Van exchange knowing looks, wide grins breaking out as you make for the exit and the night beyond.

[theindiscreetbookworm]

And so we embark. It's rock star AU time, a rite of passage as sacred as any other. I can't fucking wait to have this out in the world... it's been a long time coming.

[ask-emerys-melvinborgs]

-—-—-The Event Horizon-—-—-

Chapter 2. Overture

🫐—-—-—-—-—-— »,”☆

Melvinborg sped through the air at breakneck speed, the rocket careening through the clouds, below him his apartment, his neighborhood, his city disappearing. His grip on the steering mechanism was a little white-knuckled, his dashboard a contrasting cheery array of LEDs, and his heart soaring with determination.

—-[Start] [« Last] -,”🪽”,- [Next »] [Latest]-—

A myriad of satellites were perched in invisible orbit like birds on a wire, and as he sped past, he saw a variety of purple lights blinking at him- the friendly, neutral color of communication, a quick 'hello!' as he began his journey. Interstellar communication had gotten leagues better, and the nearby airspace really wasn't so lonely anymore. He whizzed past the air station, a few stray rockets from different independent explorers like him housed comfortably in its magnetic field. Now that he was finally out of orbit, he could calm his pace a little bit. He unbuckled his seatbelt, floating as if a petal on water, suprisingly light and graceful leaps. And heavens, did he have fun with it! Bounding about, feeling the freedom of space- though he had taken multiple trips into space before, it still was a rare treat, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. Alone in his ship, he let his guard down, feeling like a kid once again. It was this kind of spirit he was going to need so desperately, for a mission like this.

Just for the sake of feeling less alone, he decided to tune his radio to the Communications section. With the clickity-clackity turn of a deliciously antiquated knob, the gentle static fuzzed in, a little warmer than usual (likely the gentle hum of the stars). "Hey, anyone online?" A voice shimmered through the speakers...

"Oh, fantastic! I'm doing quite well, thank you," he spoke into the intercom. "I'm on my way out of town- well. Way out of town, I suppose." The voice giggled a little. "And," he added giddily, "if you're oh-so-terribly-curious, I'm actually trying to-" A wave of electrical fuzz washed over the sound, and before he could begin his monologue, the connection was lost, leaving him a little disheartened. Oh well. "ETH3R, how far until our destination?" he asked his scientific companion. "We won't hit the hyperspace barrier until we get out of the solar system and its regulations, which should take about 15 minutes and 49 seconds, so accounting for that...... you've got nine hours, thirty-seven minutes, and 11 seconds until we reach the orbit of the nearest black hole, MIRAWIDIE-14." Damn. He scrunched his nose. It sounded like a long time, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad, eh? Nine hours until his life changed, hopefully forever, hopefully for the better. He settled into the lounge chair he had so-smartly included, ready for his journey, still keeping his general cover of ultimate in-control nonchalantness but secretly alight with anticipation. He hadn't penned yet what he was even going to say or do to his younger self- that would require a LOT of self-reflection that he was absolutely not willing to do. Obviously, expecting him to be absolutely perfect at every turn already would lead him to the same colossal burnout crash that Borg had experienced as he had metaphorically dragged himself across the bloody, gravelly pavement of life to make it into adulthood. Obviously, he was a lot better off now, but... he wanted to save himself the pain, if he could. But god, introspection isn't easy to do when there's so many layers of perfectionism and shame, mm? He didn't realize that to face himself, he would have to face himself. His thoughts couldn't keep him for long, though, because ETH3R gently encouraged him to buckle himself back into the commander's seat so that they could engage their hyperspace drive. "Ah, what would I do without you?" he asked affectionately, to which the robot replied "Let's hope we never have to find out." The shadow of Neptune was shrinking behind them, and as they began to launch into hyperspace, the reflections of the stars went from dutiful pinpricks to huge bearded comets to crystalline slices, slight differentiation in color, creme and periwinkle and peach and white cascading past in beautiful shooting lines as they went faster faster faster faster FASTER- And then, almost as suddenly as it began, they slowed back to a gentle lull, but the sky was almost entirely changed, Around them was a menagerie of dust, nebulas in every color and then some, stars of all sizes adorning the sky. Sparse enough to still have that sense of coldness, but everything was so much more colorful- it was like stepping into Oz. Little tears gathered in Melvin's eyes- there was no sight like it, and he would never get used to experiencing that glory. He settled in comfortably for the ride, gazing out the window at the breathtaking monuments, strolling through them on his way to his future.