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matchavellichor · 7 months

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A Losing Game

A/N: was in the mood to write pure filth so here's some jealous sebastian smut lul. also i left the context intentionally vague so that i could maybe write a prequel sometime but i hope it's clear they absolutely hate each other loool

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - NSFW - 4.4k words - ao3

Summary: Watching his long-time rival and dueling partner kiss someone else ignites feelings in Sebastian that has him questioning just how similar hate is to desire.

Tags: Yule Ball, Enemies to Lovers, Pining Sebastian, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Mild Prey/Predator, No Safeword

For the first time in their many years of friendship, Sebastian is the one being dragged to a social event he has no interest in being a part of. Ominis, taking no small amount of pleasure in this, leads them into the Great Hall with an amused smirk on his face, only biting his tongue because he’s respectful of present company. Sebastian frowns.

His robes are scratchy, his date is doused in a nausea-inducing amount of flowery perfume, and there’s not nearly enough firewhiskey in the spiked punch this year.

He tells himself pointedly, as if it’s a matter of public record, that he isn’t looking for her.

Even as his eyes comb over the crowd, and there’s a little pang of disappointment in his gut when he still doesn’t spot her after the third sweep.

“Stop sulking,” Ominis murmurs from beside him. “You look miserable.”

Sebastian proceeds to sulk even more. “How would you know how I look?”

“I’m blind, not oblivious.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table the blonde had chosen and preparing himself for an entire night of brooding.

He’d have no qualms in remaining seated in their desolate little corner for the entirety of the evening, but his date—Bianca or Beatrice or, maybe something with a D—has other plans.

She titters something about dancing, and then she’s suddenly tugging on his arm and dragging him towards parquet floors. In no mood to protest, he lets himself get weaved through pairs of students who are doing anything but respecting Headmaster’s Black rule to maintain a Potions textbook length apart.

So much for leaving room for Merlin.

He manages a tight-lipped smile when they stop under a cloud charmed to sprinkle snowflakes, small flurries of white blending into a halo around them. It’s a truly beautiful sight, a winter wonderland of silver and gold englobing them, yet despite this, Sebastian’s demeanor is tight and forced, starkly unhappy.

He pretends he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind his sour mood. Pretends he isn’t thinking about someone else’s hands, someone else’s smell, someone else’s eyes, and the obvious absence of them.

Sebastian feels dreadfully pathetic clinging to the prospect of even simply seeing her as a motivator to suffer through the remainder of the night.

He wonders when he became such a pining, spineless idiot and deduces it must’ve been somewhere during the first dozen times she’d knocked him on his ass in a duel. Surely, a screw was knocked loose then. Or a couple.

Sebastian swallows his displeasure and takes hold of a hand that’s not the right size, that doesn’t have the calluses and rough edges in the places he’s already far too familiar with. It’s easy to fall into pace, but it’s hard to enjoy it. Hard to pretend he’s dancing with someone else.

It’s then, glancing over his date’s shoulder through the haze of floating candles and snowflakes, that he finally catches sight of what he has decidedly not been thinking about all evening.

From the way he stills and all his attention narrows in on one person, you’d think Salazar Slytherin himself just made an appearance butt-naked on a unicycle.

Breath-taking is an understatement. Asphyxiating might be a more valiant contender. Sebastian would be impressed with himself if he managed to get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep his brain functioning for an entire night of staring at her across dance floors.

His eyes comb over every inch of the blood red floor-length gown she has on, head-to-toe, gaze rising to dust over the blush high on her cheekbones, even further up to the gems crested in her hair.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath, though it doesn’t do him any good.

Then, his attention narrows in on the person accompanying her and it’s like his stomach immediately pitches, falls down six flights of stairs, and subsequently plummets into a dark abyss, landing at the bottom with a pathetic, defeated sort of sound.

Because her arm is tucked into the crook of someone else’s elbow, and she’s smiling at something someone else is whispering in her, and despite being only a few feet away at this point, she doesn’t even spare a glance at Sebastian.

Instead, she drapes an arm around her date’s neck, which he reciprocates with a hand at the small of her back, pulls their bodies closer and—

Sebastian squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to look, turning away from what feels like betrayal, though he knows is the farthest thing from it.

Maybe that’s what feels the worst. What makes his mouth taste so bitter he could gag from it. It’s the realization that he has no right to feel so upset about any of it. That he can’t expect anything from her.

That she isn’t his.

His shoulders stiffen and he suddenly stops any movements, letting his hands drop from where they were rested at a chiffon-covered waist, stepping away.

His date calls his name, emitting some cross between a petulant whine and indignant scoff, but he doesn’t really hear her. He’s busy high-tailing towards the drink table and doing the mental math for how many teal-coloured glasses of spiked punch he’ll have to drink to self-induce a coma.

Ominis, with his hell-anointed sixth sense, meets him three-quarters of the way there, falling into step as they weave through pairs of students.

“This is your own doing, you know.”

He’s right, yet Sebastian would still throttle him if there weren’t so many witnesses around. He ignores him.

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighs. “You’re being childish.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” Ominis says. “I thought I’d already made myself clear that I was on her side concerning this.”

Sebastian scowls. “Some friend you are.”

“All you had to do was ask her.”

“Asking her is admitting defeat,” Sebastian mutters over the rim of the glass he just poured himself. “She wouldn’t have ever let me live it down.”

“I don’t understand this game you two play,” Ominis frowns. “Would it have been so hard for you to humble yourself for just a moment?”

Sebastian takes a long drink. “Yes. In front of her, it would’ve been.”

“Then enjoy watching her dance with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

Sebastian has just about decided to actually throttle Ominis, witnesses be damned, but he’s already making his way back into the crowd, out of reach.

Sebastian groans, yet doesn’t go after him. Refuses to.

From his position on the outskirts of the dance floor, he’s in blissful ignorance of whatever it is she’s doing at the moment. Despite the curiosity eating away at him from the inside, it’s some form of solace that at least he can’t see the smile he’d caught on her face. Can’t see the glow in her eyes, or her hands on her date’s robes, or all the affection he craves so ardently misdirected towards someone else.

Somehow, it’s worse.

And then, as if Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling, has decided Sebastian hasn’t endured enough for one pitiful night already, the steady crescendo of a waltz begins to build.

The crowd pulses and sways in tempo with the symphony, leaving breaches and eyelets, brief openings that he can’t tear his eyes away from, because even if it hurts, he needs to see her again.

That’s how he catches sight of her for the second time that evening. Like the seas parting to reveal a miracle, she finds herself right in his line of vision.

Sebastian conveys the tightening he feels in his chest into an ice-cold glower, features hardened. He prays she’ll just look. Even if it’s something fleeting, a split second of a glance.

Once again, her eyes never make their way anywhere near him.

It’s almost intentional, in a way that drives him insane. As if she knows where he is, and she’s skirting over him pointedly, antagonistically. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional, a gleaming testimony to all the other ways she manages to get under his skin.

The dancing body of students continues to shift, like a pendulum, back and forth, revealing and concealing. He clings to the momentary sight of her, and still, like a fool, hopes that at some instance she’ll look back. Acknowledge him.

Give him some form of recognition so he doesn’t have to admit defeat so quickly. So that he knows that they’re still playing their game, that he’s not just losing alone.

The composition nears its apex, surrounding gowns and robes reaching a swirling mass of glitter and silks, and something heavy sinks inside of him, an impending sense of foreboding.

He knows what’s coming, somehow.

The orchestra finally reaching its climax.

Her fingers threading through the hairs at the nape of her date’s neck.

Her leaning forward, nose slotting against his, lips hovering over another’s and yet—

He doesn’t look away. Even if it feels like being split open, sternum cracked across the middle, until he’s left with a slick-red, yawning chest cavity.

He can’t look away, because her eyes are open and for the first time in the entire evening, they’re meeting his.

Like most instances involving her, he isn’t sure if he’s winning or losing anymore.

She doesn’t look away, and he can’t bring himself to either. It’s like he’s standing there, split from top to bottom, voluntarily exposed for her to prod at, to ruin. And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it all.

Her lips aren’t on his, yet she’s looking at him as if she wishes they were.

There’s something taunting in her eyes. Something he might’ve mistaken as a threat if they were in their usual setting, mid-duel in the Undercroft.

A challenge.

It takes him a moment to realize that context shouldn’t matter. This is an invitation for battle, a glaring provocation. He stares.

The sight of her mouth on someone else’s makes bile rise in his throat, makes him so filled with rage and revulsion that he thinks he might suffocate on it all. Yet the sight of her eyes, the sheer amount of longing she’s able to convey in such a short glance, is enough to invigorate him, to channel all his rage and wanting into something else.

His legs move of their own accord.

Her reflexes are as sharp as they are in battle.

The second she sees him coming towards her, she reacts. Murmurs a hurried apology towards her date, who looks so confused Sebastian would almost feel bad for the bloke if he didn’t want to strangle him so violently.

She’s immediately cutting through the crowd towards the opposite direction, her eyes trained on one of the exits. He picks up his speed, but she’s quicker than him, smaller, able to duck through bunches of students with ease, even with her dress hindering her movements.

Adrenaline trickles up his spine. She throws him another glance over her shoulder and smirks, sly and knowing, a look that writhes under his skin in the way her glances always do.

Even if he’s the one chasing her, Sebastian feels awfully like the rodent in their little game of cat and mouse.

They both step into the quiet of the dimly-lit hallway, the sounds of the party bleeding away as the door shuts behind them, casting them in silence.

There’s a split moment where she spins around to look at him, chest heaving. The live-wire tension between them is pulled so taut it’s a miracle the air doesn’t crackle with static.

Neither of them move for a long moment, until her lips curl into a smile.

She breaks into a run and Sebastian doesn’t miss a beat.

He chases after her, his heart pounding with something primal, something instinctive. Like his self-control might slip away from him when he catches her, like he might just sink his teeth into soft flesh, dig his nails into supple skin. She runs as if she’s just as aware of this fact as he is.

He almost wants to punish her for it. Bite and scratch and mark as if in vengeance for her thinking she could ever get away from him. For her forgetting that she’s anything but his, as if she should simply know it by now.

She’s fast, but she’s nearly tripping over the dress she has fisted in her hands, and her heels don’t help. All it takes is for her to stumble around a corner and he’s on her, grabbing her gown, pulling her towards him.

He spins her around, and she grunts when he slams her against the wall. Teeth bared, strands of the elegant updo she’d had her hair in falling down over her shoulders, glittery makeup smeared down her cheeks — she looks like something savage.

For some reason, it makes something deep-set inside Sebastian ache.

“Let go,” she grits, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, under the weight of his body that has her molded to the wall.

His grip only tightens, frustration simmering low in his gut. Sebastian has never known desire like this, shadowed by fury. Want and anger, love and hate, repulsion and obsession.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses.

She stills her thrashing in favor of looking up at him through her lashes with an expression so innocent, it’s crucifying.

“Attending a dance?”

His jaw sets. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Why, are you having a hard time keeping up?”

He stares at her for a long moment, jaw working in tandem with his thoughts. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and she tilts her head, amused at how worked up he’s gotten.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says.

“And what’s that?”

“Thinking about how badly you want to kill me, probably,” she says. Her eyes fall to his lips and his breath stops in his throat. “Or kiss me. Haven’t quite worked out which one yet.”

“So certain that they’re mutually exclusive,” he murmurs, his gaze falling to mimic hers despite himself. “I think you forget that I’m very multi-faceted.”

“That I’m aware of,” she tilts her chin up, almost as if inviting him to press his mouth to hers, a siren’s call. “You manage to be mind-numbingly stupid and brilliantly obnoxious, all at the same time.”

He scoffs. “And you manage to be the most infuriating person on the planet.”

She seems starkly proud of the title. “What can I say, I invoke passion.”

“You invoke homicidal thoughts.”

“Not the only kinds of thoughts I invoke in you, is it, Sallow?”

He reddens. He’s spent too many showers hunched over his own fist with silencing charms plastered around the tiles for his response to be anything more than a blurted, evocative reaction.

“Anything you think I feel for you is precisely the opposite. I fucking despise you.”

He only notes a split second after that it’s not an outright denial.

Evidently, so does she. Because then, as if she were made to crawl under his skin, writhe underneath it until his nerves were a mess, she smiles.

What he truly despises is how pretty he finds it.

“You don’t hate me.”

He sneers. “Is that so?”

“Hate isn’t the opposite of love. Indifference is,” she leans in. “And I’d hardly call chasing me through the castle simply because I kissed someone else…indifferent.”

He decides then — or more accurately, his too-horny, too-angry, too-impulsive brain decides for him — to wipe the pleased grin off her face the most effective way he knows how.

With a hand fisted in her hair and his mouth crashing against hers.

It isn’t tender or sweet, nor the remotest definition of kind, but it’s fitting and dreadfully familiar, because it’s not like they’ve ever been nice to one another.

He lets go of her wrists to give her some fighting chance, because he’s cruel, but he prides himself on being fair. Instead of pushing him away, or going for her wand, or doing anything to indicate she doesn’t want this, however, she pulls him in. As if she knows exactly how to bring him to his knees, in any and all contexts, and revels in any opportunity to destroy him.

He almost thinks it’s a trap, another one of her grating ploys, but when she tangles her fingers in his hair and drags her nails down his scalp and kisses him back with just as much fervor as he does, it’s hard to believe it’s simply a farce.

Her tongue finds his and Sebastian wonders if they’ll ever do anything together that doesn’t mimic a battle. She fights for dominance in every stroke of her tongue against his, and his stubbornness refuses to grant her it.

“Fuck,” he groans against her mouth, because he’s learning just how much she kisses the same way she duels.

Dirty, unfair, brutal. Like she’s never been afraid of blood, or getting messy, or breaking things.

She stokes a fire that’s been simmering inside him until it’s red-hot and all-consuming, flames licking at the inside of his throat. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites until he tastes copper, finding some sick form of satisfaction at the pained little whine she lets out.

“You kissed him,” he pants, and there’s something raw in his voice. He rests his forehead against hers and stares at the crimson pooling on her lip. “You kissed him.”

She swallows. “I did.”

Sebastian despises how hurt he sounds. “I could kill him.”

“You won’t.”

“I could.”

“I know,” she nods, chest heaving against his. Her voice grows suddenly soft, until it’s barely a whisper. “I wanted it to be you.”

He groans, almost pained. “Did you?”

She nods.

“Has he ever touched you?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell the truth,” he says, fingers threading through the tangled remains of her chignon, tilting her face up towards him so he can meet her eyes. “Did you let him touch you?” He presses a leg between her thighs, barely able to feel her through layers of tulle. “Here?”

“No,” she gasps from the contact, nails scrambling to drag down his forearm. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he sighs, and tips his head down to press against her throat, drags his lips over her jaw. “Only me, hm? Say it.”

She shakes her head and his gaze darkens, pulling back to tighten his fingers still tangled in her hair, to tear a whimper from the back of her throat.

“No? Who then?”

“No one,” she whispers, and despite the tight angle her neck is at, despite the fear dancing behind her eyes, she smiles up at him again. “You haven’t touched me yet, though, have you?”

She’s baiting him, and he’s aware of it, and still it manages to work.

He feels his self-restraint slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sand. There’s traces of scarlet on her teeth he wants to drag his tongue over. He wants to suck the marrow from her bones.

He spins her around, presses her cheek into the cool flagstone of the corridor they’re in, and molds his body to hers.

“S-shit,” she curses when his patience wears thin and he yanks at the fabric hiding her body away from his, pulling at the skirt of her gown until it rips. “Asshole.”

“Looks better this way.”

His fingers coast up her thighs to hook into her knickers, tugging them down before she can protest. She gasps and he smiles against her cheek, pushing her hand away when she tries to cover herself.

He nips at her ear, his hand reaching between her legs to cup her sex, reveling in the way she tries to squirm away from him.

“What’s wrong? Going to act shy now?”

“Someone could see,” she grits, though something in her tone tells him she’s not going to stop him.

“Wouldn’t they be lucky.”

His breath stutters when he finally dips his fingers between her folds and finds how soaked she is. Something about the revelation is dizzying, the notion that she could possibly want this as badly as he does. He grinds his hips into her arse so she’s just as aware of how gone he is.

Immediately, his hand is fumbling with his belt, the other pressing bruises into her hip to keep her still. He kicks her feet open wider, spreading her for him. His fingers flex on her hip in anticipation.

“You have full permission to use any Unforgivables you want on me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He groans. “You’re not getting me off of you in any other way.”

When she doesn’t make any move for her wand he positions himself at her entrance, rubbing to coat himself in her fluids. Her breathing is heavy against the wall she’s pressed against, her gasps coming out in soft little pants. He revels in them for a long moment.

Then, he’s impaling her and all of her breathing stops. Replaced instead by a strangled sort of sound, as if he’d managed to knock out all of the air in her lungs with a single thrust. His jaw falls slack.

He manages to composure himself enough to murmur in her ear, voice hoarse. “Hurts?”

She chokes out a sob, nodding weakly. Her head falls against the wall, clenching around him as she tries to adjust to his size.

His hips snap forward again, even harsher this time, burying himself to the hilt and tearing a yelp out of her throat. “Good.”

“S–Sebastian—”

He pauses, so deep inside her he can feel every little pulse, hips flush against her arse. “Want me to stop?”

Miraculously, she shakes her head. It’s never like her to back down from a fight, after all.

“Of course,” he chuckles, though it sounds uncharacteristically strained, imprecise. Like he’s losing his grip. His head falls to her shoulder and he moans, grunting feverishly against her skin as he starts a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can take it. Look so pretty taking it.”

“Please,” she whines. “Too much, I–I can’t,”

“You’re a tough girl,” he whispers, tone vicious despite his words. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth and take my cock.”

She nods fervently, obediently, and Sebastian thinks he deserves a medal for not finishing right then. He yanks her hips back from the wall, shifting the angle and she gasps when he feels him push in even deeper.

“Oh my God,” she moans. “Good — feels s’good, yes, yes. Plea–please don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice sandpaper-rough. He snakes a hand to her front to rub tight little circles between her legs. “Look at you babbling. Dumb little cock-drunk slut. Can’t even think properly with me inside you like this, can you?”

Her response is too garbled for coherence, a mess of moans and pleas. He groans in a way that’s almost just as saturated with desperation, that tells her she’s not alone in her unraveling. He pulls her head back to smash his lips to her, stifling all kinds of confessions that threaten to escape him.

She breaks the kiss to gasp for air and his fingers swirl against her just right. She tightens. “Gonna — m‘gonna cum,”

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” his voice breaks on the word, and he’s aware he’s practically begging. He’s too far gone to care, so he scrapes a kiss to her heat-flushed cheek and properly pleads.

“Please. So fucking beautiful. Let me see your pretty face when you come undone for me,” he stares down at her through half-lidded eyes and briefly contemplates the possibility that he’s died and gone to heaven when she looks back at him. “That’s it, look at me.”

He studies her as he sends her over the edge and pulls himself over along with her, her lashes fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes on his.

The sight is enough to ruin him.

Her makeup a mess from the tear tracks running through them, the hair fisted in his hands in an even worse state, and somehow— she still manages a lopsided smile, as if beyond pleased with herself.

He’s faintly aware of the fact she’s won. He makes peace with the realization.

There’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing to fill the silence in the hallway as Sebastian tries to regain his bearings, still buried inside her. Neither of them move for a long moment, and Sebastian likens it to the peace following a war, a brief period of prosperity.

He’s conscious that it’s temporary.

She winces when he finally pulls out of her, their shared spend trickling down the insides of her thighs, her knees nearly giving out to the point he has to hold her up, even if his own legs feel dreadfully unstable.

It doesn’t take her long for her to detach her body from his own, to duck under his arm and slip away. Panic suddenly seizes his chest, dread trickling up his spine. For some reason, he can’t bear to watch her leave. He opens his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe—but she beats him to it.

“That was fun,” she says plainly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. It’s as if they’d just finished another duel. Hardly anything to bat an eye at. Sebastian is at a remarkable loss for words.

She hasn’t continued down the hallway, but she looks as if she’s prepared to.

He’s faintly aware of the fact he probably looks like a fish right now, jaw still slack.

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her attention to righting her underthings and fixing the tattered remains of her gown. He watches her.

“Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Suddenly sprung to life by the threat of her absence, he takes a step forward. “I’ll walk you back.”

She snorts. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Unless, you’d like to, uh,” he stares down at his shoes, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I could transfigure something for us in the Undercroft.”

She looks amused. “My god, you’re insatiable.”

He reddens. “I didn’t mean—oh, Salazar, to sleep…I meant to sleep.”

She turns to face him fully and raises her brows. “You’re asking me if I’d like to forego my own bed in order to spend the night with you in a dusty cellar?”

Mortification washes over him. Why would she? He should’ve kept his mouth shut and walked her to her dorm room instead of deluding himself with the notion that this could’ve been anything more than a quick fuck.

She stares at him expectantly and his fingers twitch at his side with the desire to grab his wand and promptly Avada himself.

It’s then that she decides to saunter over to him, taking her time, until she’s right beside him and can tuck her arm into his. She gestures forward, almost impatient.

“Go on then. I’m little spoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #dark sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

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amonthofwhump · 2 months

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What: AMonthOfWhump's March Trope-a-Thon is a week-long whump event for all! Choose a prompt from our list for each day, or give us your own spin on the theme.

Where: Share your creations here on Tumblr. @ us to get your entry reblogged here!

When: March 15-22

Who: All are welcome! Writing, art, gifs, playlists, edits, cosplay, anything you want to create.

Tagging example: #amow tropeathon2024, #day1, #duel, #your tags here

Text of the prompts under the cut.

1. Fantasy Setting

- Locked in a Tower

- Victim of a Curse

- Duel

2. Gore

- Impalement

- Bleeding Out

- Nonconsensual Body Modification

3. Environmental

- A Long Cold Night

- Miles To Go

- Flash Flood

4. Nonhuman Whumpee

- Mundane Object is Poison To Me

- "Monster! Monster!"

- Caged

5. Spy/Military

- Interrogation

- Cover Identity

- Battle

6. Captivity

- Kidnapping

- Escape Attempt

- Hunger

7. Team Whump

- "Alright, let's get a headcount"

- Filling in for Another Team Member

- Mutual First Aid

8. Violence!

- No Holds Barred Beatdown

- zoutmatched

- Blackout Rage

Alt Prompts:

Abandoned

Doorstep Collapse

"It's not that deep"

Pursuit

"Take me instead"

#amow tropeathon2024 #whump community #whump event #whump prompt list #writing prompts #prompt list #whump prompt

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wolfwrenweek · 7 months

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What is WolfWren Week? Five days in November (Nov 6-10) dedicated to the relationship between Sabine Wren and Shin Hati from Ahsoka. Check out our About and Rules for more info. A detailed explanation of our daily themes can be found on our Prompts page and down below! Don't forget to tag your works with #wolfwrenweek and #wolfwrenweek2023 ♡

The below themes are intended to be used as inspiration for fandom creators participating in WolfWren Week. Each day has a unique motif and a corresponding collection of related prompts to pick from. You are welcome to use one or more prompts from within the same category for your creations.

NOV 6 devouring heavenly bodies | a day for possessive love. Biting, Blood, Scars, Wounds, Obsession, Jealousy, Rivalry, The Hunt, Murder

NOV 7 intricate rituals | a day for sacred acts. Courting, Body Worship, Sparring/Dueling, Makeup and Hair, Tattoos and Piercings, Collars and Restraints, Armor, Mandalorian Culture

NOV 8 between two lungs | a day for tender intimacy. Belonging, Domesticity, Cuddling, Dancing, Firsts, New Beginning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Only One Bed, Confessions, Force Bond, Found Family, Promise

NOV 9 howl of affection | a day for the spoken word. “Are you blushing?”, “Who did this to you?”, “Going somewhere?”, “Wait!”, “Who’s that?”, “Let me help you.”, “I hate you.” — “I know.”, “I can help you.”, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

NOV 10 dreams and madness | a day for bending reality. Sith AU, Flower Shop & Tattoo Artist AU, Clone Wars AU, Role Reversal AU, Band/Musician AU, Modern Day AU, Medieval AU, Soulmate AU, Imperial Academy AU, Time Travel AU, Padawans AU, Werewolf AU

While you are encouraged to use the prompts shared as inspiration, they are not mandatory. If you have a concept for something you really want to make that does not fit any of these, you are still welcome to participate during the event week!

#wolfwren #shin hati #sabine wren #ahsoka #shin hati x sabine wren #sabine wren x shin hati #swevents #star wars wlw #sapphic star wars #star wars lesbians #wolfwrenweek #wolfwrenweek2023 #prompt announcement #sabine x shin #admin post #announcements

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taimizuweek · 1 month

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12 Days of Taimizu || Summer Taimizu Week

Hello, everyone! We are happy to announce an upcoming Taimizu Week planned for Summer 2024, based around the romantic pairing of Taigen/Mizu from Blue Eye Samurai!

This is open for anyone and everyone to participate, whether in the form of art, fics, AMVs, graphics, gifs, headcanons, playlists, meta essays, or anything else—as long as it's something you made! All skill levels and level of work detail are encouraged to participate.

The event will run from June 2nd - June 13th, with the following prompts:

Yearning || Duel — June 2nd

Laughter || Touch — June 3rd

Words || Eyes — June 4th

Blades || Elements — June 5th

Hair || Banter — June 6th

Rivalry || Growth — June 7th

Greatness || Push and Pull — June 8th

Rest || Food — June 9th

Shielding || Acts of Service — June 10th

Devotion || Play/Laughter — June 11th

Happy || Satisfied — June 12th

Healing || Family — June 13th

Though the event is some months away, we're promoting this early on is so that anyone interested in participating can get a head start on working on the prompts. This way, everyone can take their time in making as many, and as detailed, works as they like in time for the event!

All works intended for Taimizu Week (including WIPs which can be posted prior to the event) should be posted under the tag #12DaysofTaimizu.

For more details, please check out our Carrd. If you have any further questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to send us an ask (but please make sure to read the FAQ first)!

All likes and reblogs to help spread the word would also be greatly appreciated! We hope you have fun, and wish you all the best in creating! 💚⚔️💙

#taimizu #mizu x taigen #taigen x mizu #taizu #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #taigen blue eye samurai #taigen bes #mizu #taigen #mizugen #taimizu week #12daysoftaimizu

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poorlittlegreenie13 · 5 months

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Part 1/2 of a fic I wrote for @oblivionsdream based on their enchanting Jester x Knight pairing that I'm obsessed with. Can't think of a title... maybe for part two.

(The idea for this spawned from @oblivionsdream posting "Jester has also been present for a few of the injuries and in one case where they were both away from the castle he did his best to tend to the knights injuries himself" and I was like 'oooo I want to write that!' but then I needed to write the backstory of it and then somehow it was 1.5k words and I needed to sleep, so part two will incorporate the above quote ^)

Fic below the cut! Very vaguely suggestive language & flirting but nothing explicit or sexual.

There is not, strictly speaking, a good reason for the Jester to be tagging along on the King’s Guard’s latest mission out of the city. He basically invited himself, pleading with the King for a week and a half—following him down the corridors or pestering him while he oversaw the knights sparring in the courtyard—before he agreed.

“I could boost morale!” the Jester insisted one sunny afternoon, eyes flicking quickly over to the knight closest to him, definitely within earshot. Even with all the identical sets of armor in the courtyard, the knight with the white feather in his helmet (the knight the Jester had subconsciously begun to think of as his), was easily recognizable. “You know,” the Jester continued, eyeing the Knight as he spoke, “I could… entertain the troops.”

The Jester swore the visor of the Knight’s helmet tilted ever-so-slightly towards him at that. He grinned, and the King rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask your knights if you’re not convinced?” the Jester suggested innocently, darting between his Knight and the squire he was sparring with. “He wants me to come,” he added, attempting to keep up with the Knight’s quick movements. “Don’t you?”

“Get out of the way before you get knocked out,” the Knight said ruefully. The Jester laughed, flitting around to the Knight’s opposite side—closer to the hand not holding a massive sword.

“Tell the King you want me on your quest,” the Jester urged, smiling wickedly as the Knight’s guard dropped ever-so-slightly, his visor-covered-eyes fixing on the Jester. The squire he was sparring with got dangerously close to getting a blow in before the Knight blocked. “Come on, I know you do,” the Jester taunted.

The Knight swapped his sword to his left hand, seamlessly blocking an attempted blow by the squire while not breaking eye contact (or, well, visor contact, really) with the Jester. The Jester made a mental note of the Knight’s apparent ambidexterity, which was ridiculously, unfairly attractive. As if the Knight wasn’t attractive enough already.

“You really have no business anywhere near a battlefield,” the Knight said.

The Jester rolled his eyes, darting back to the Knight’s non-sword side. “I won’t be near the battlefield,” he insisted, “I’ll just stay in your chambers and patiently wait for you to get back. Polish your armor. Help you relax after your long day.” He gave a small smile, letting his voice trail off suggestively and looking up at the Knight through his lashes.

The Knight stared at the Jester for a moment too long, and the squire’s practice-sword connected with his breastplate with a loud ding.

The Knight swore under his breath, retaliating against the squire with perhaps slightly more aggression than was strictly necessary for a practice duel.

The Jester looked back at the King, who was watching the events with a bemused smile.

“I’m not convinced,” the King said. “Seems like you’re distracting him.”

“I’m motivating him!” the Jester insisted. “Look how well he’s doing!”

He gestured to the Knight, who was beating the squire back with renewed annoyance.

“Hm,” the King said, watching the Knight for a moment. “I’ll consider.”

*****

Two days later, the Jester was packed and ready, sidling up to the departing group of Knights with his multi-colored carpetbag in one hand, and a snack for the road in the other.

The Knight, his knight, was tacking up his horse, a huge chestnut colored stallion with a feather that matched the Knight’s decorating its bridal.

“Go on,” the King said, nodding bemusedly towards the party of knights. “You can ride with Sir Augustine, he has the biggest horse.”

“Among other things, I’m sure,” the Jester said lowly.

The Knight turned sharply to look at him. The Jester’s breath caught. The Knight’s visor was up, dark brown eyes locking on the Jester’s.

The Jester might’ve actually said fuck out loud. He’s not sure.

The Knight snapped his visor down, familiar metal obscuring the warmth of his gaze.

“Jester is with you,” the King said, stepping between the Knight and the Jester, looking between them with an amused smile.

“Surely we can spare a fifth horse,” the Knight said, sounding slightly choked.

“I don’t know how to ride,” the Jester said innocently, having recovered quickly enough from his momentary loss of composure. “Horses, that is.”

The Knight inhaled audibly. The Jester smiled.

“Godspeed,” the King said, his smile turning resigned as he started back towards the castle.

The Knight just kept staring at the Jester, even as he looked around, scanning the other knights and squires on the journey with them.

“You really don’t know how to ride a horse?” the Knight said finally, his voice sounding ridiculously soft considering the battle armor it was coming out of.

“Never learned,” the Jester said truthfully. “My carriage rides are always paid for.”

“Of course,” the Knight said, a familiar note of bitter professionalism sliding back into his voice. “Well, right foot in the stirrup.”

“Er, right,” the Jester said, hesitating. “Which one is the stirrup?”

“Gods’ sakes,” the Knight muttered, and with absolutely no warning or preamble, brought his hands to either side of the Jester’s waist and lifted him off his feet as if he weighed nothing.

It would’ve been infuriating if it wasn’t so enchanting.

“Excuse me—” the Jester began, but the Knight set him onto the horse before he could finish his sentence.

“No time to teach you,” the Knight said, stepping into what the Jester now, belatedly, recognized as a stirrup and mounting the horse behind where the Jester was sitting. He reached around the Jester on either side, taking up the reins and silently nudging the horse into motion.

“We ride North until dawn,” the Knight said to the other riders behind them. “Then we break for the night and bear south in the morning.”

The Jester smiled to himself slightly as he realized the Knight was sitting up pin straight, leaning slightly back, avoiding all physical contact with him. A challenge.

“You can’t sit like that all day,” he whispered, turning his head to lean closer to the Knight’s helmet-covered ear.

“This is how I always sit,” the Knight said.

“Is it really?” the Jester asked, leaning back ever-so-slightly. Enough to brush against the Knight’s chest.

The Knight inhaled again, that soft, sharp sound that the Jester was beginning to strive for. He arched his back slightly, wiggling his hips.

“Stop that,” the Knight said.

“Stop what?” the Jester asked.

“You’re— you know what,” the Knight hissed.

“Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Jester said innocently, pushing his hips back once more.

In a singular, fluid movement, the Knight took one hand off the reins and brought it to the Jester’s waist, squeezing slightly, though not hard enough to be anywhere near uncomfortable. Warmth bloomed beneath the touch, and the Jester grinned.

“Stop moving,” the Knight said, lowly, close to his ear.

“Just relax,” the Jester said. “Stop sitting like you’re scared you’ll catch something if you touch me.”

“I’m not scared,” the Knight said crossly. His hand was still on the Jester’s waist, squeezing slightly as he spoke.

“If you’d rather I ride with someone else,” the Jester said, “I’d be happy to take my chances finding another knight.”

“No,” the Knight said immediately, too quickly, hand tightening on the Jester’s waist.

The Jester felt himself blush, and bit back a smile. “Fine,” he said, “if you insist.”

The Knight sighed in what sounded like annoyance, then shifted in the saddle slightly, pressing his chest to the Jester’s back and winding one arm fully around his waist.

“Happy?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” the Jester said, definitely blushing now at the feeling of the Knight’s arm around him, and the faint smell of saddle leather and sweat in the air around them.

“Good,” the Knight said contentedly, settling into the saddle slightly more.

As they rode through the day, he would occasionally tighten his arm around the Jester’s waist, pulling him into his chest protectively in what the Jester was almost certain was a subconscious move. Not that he was complaining. The Knight’s chest was ridiculously comfortable, despite the armor separating them. Comfortable enough to lull the Jester into a trace, nearer and nearer to sleep the more miles they covered.

As the sky darkened, the Jester felt his eyes drifting shut, head falling backwards onto the Knight’s shoulder. He snapped back awake, stopping himself before he could truly fall asleep.

“Go ahead,” the Knight said.

“What, so I can fall off the horse and you can laugh at me?” the Jester asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’ll stay awake.”

“You won’t fall,” the Knight said. And then quickly, into the silence, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

It was the Jester’s turn to exhale in surprise. He leaned back hesitantly, exhaustion pulling at him. Since when was riding horses so tiring?

“That’s it,” the Knight murmured, a self-satisfied smile evident in his voice, the thumb of the hand resting on the curve of the Jester’s waist rubbing absently over the thin fabric of his traveling shirt.

The Jester’s stomach swooped. He was blushing, he knew, again.

“So chivalric,” he murmured, and then fell asleep in the Knight’s arms.

#jingley menace #foolknight #jester x knight

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kaiowut99 · 3 months

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youtube

A Special Announcement~ | Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V Tag Force Special Re-Translation Project!

I've been itching to get around to posting about this for a few months now, but wanted to wait until I'd worked on enough for it, but also had the idea to create an announcement trailer to go with it for added good measure--after recording and editing clips for a couple weeks and leveling the audio last night, heremst we are! (For some clips, I forgot to turn off the PPSSPP emulator's DevMenu option so that shows up in the top-left, buuut I didn't feel like re-recording those, lmao.)

Details worth reading below the cut here, but tl;dr work has been in progress for over a year in between things, work will continue to be in progress for a while, and the release will happen when everything's ready, but stay tuned, fun's getting started etc etc~

So, I'm sure most of us are familiar with the as-yet-unlocalized-by-Konami TFSP, the seventh and last entry in the Tag Force series on the PSP that came out early in ARC-V's run (featuring the first five series which was a cool first), as well as the current translations out there originally worked on by the guys at XenoTranslations (omarrrio and ScrewTheRules/ClickClaxer01 at GBATemp handling the card and story/etc translations, respectively) and how there are... some issues with what's out there. Everything from the DM story mode being loaded with YGOTAS references (no shade to YGOTAS and much respect to LK/Martin for his ongoing work on it still making me laugh sometimes, ofc) to the off-the-cuff edginess of 2014-2015-era internet culture and the problematic (in some cases, derogatory) language that permeated it--though to its credit, some parts do have some level of translation attempted, but taken as a whole, it can definitely turn people off from giving the game a try and seeing what it brings to the table (which is still a good amount despite the corners Konami cut here/there compared to prior TF games).

I actually did attempt a translation of my own back in 2015 (if you've been following me for a long time, you might remember it lol), tackling the GX story text starting with Judai's heart events, but eventually put it on the backburner as I focused more on my GX subbing work and beginning to finalize everything (which I'm still doing). Sometime in 2022, a friend over on NeoArkCradle (the "anonymous YGO fan" in the opening screen) was poring over the story text and patching it up the best he could to remove the references and inaccuracies with more coherent work, and after a while of seeing what he was working with in the Discord, I was a bit blown away by just how inaccurate much of it was--so alongside him, and using the better tools available since then (including some really awesome work from both nzxth2 [who did a proper re-translation of 5D's TF6 not too long ago and was kind enough to release his tools for it] and our coding helper Xan1242 who we eventually reached out to for some help), I decided to *cracks knuckles* get involved and help give everything a more accurate and professional translation, much like I do with my GX subs, working directly off the Japanese text and files. I've been taking cracks at everything in between the GX episodes I've been finalizing going back to at least last January (and I'd used my little hiatus after finalizing GX Season 2's subs to really get at some other stuff throughout the game), starting with re-translating DM's story text but also properly translating other aspects of the game, from the character names (using the original Japanese names, including those of the TF-exclusive characters, partly since Konami made a whole mess of them in English TF1-5), in-duel dialogue, pack descriptions, and more to images with Japanese text (such as localizing the in-duel cut-in onomatopoeia as you see in the video above, or other little images throughout) using some Photoshop skills I've picked up. And it's been a joint effort, as said NAC friend and I have been bouncing off how we'd like to see this go between us to stay on the same page and all, while also checking with other translators there for second/third opinions as needed.

Our plan is to release two versions of a translation--one which uses the OCG [translated] card names in Story Mode, in-duel, and other text but not in the game's card system (mainly to deal with story-relevant notes like Osiris vs Slifer with the Gods or things like not-Utopia Hope being symbolic between Yuma and Astral, akin to how I do my GX subs), and one which uses the TCG card names in everything (like how the official subs go about it). While we're mostly working with the Japanese game files due to how the Xeno team went about decoding everything, we'll be using the card-system-related files from the fixed ISO provided by FLSGaming which fixed some issues that had been present there. And Xan has helped us with a plugin that will be used to apply our translations to the system files that were hard to edit otherwise (things like the character and recipe names, as well as the pack names pulled from for the Card Description screen), but more on how that'll work once this is ready for release, lol. At some point, I'd like to also look at HDifying textures and things, but that's definitely a bonus-level thing for after the main work here is done.

SO.

Currently, Story-Mode-wise, I've gone through everything up to Yusei's events--so Dark Yugi/Kaiba/Jounouchi/Ishizu/Mai in DM, Judai/Manjoume/Asuka/Misawa/Ryou in GX, and Yusei in 5D's have been fully retranslated, though I took initial cracks at Yuma and Yuya's events to get content for this video lol (I've also been intentionally holding off on as much ZEXAL as I can until I've properly watched the whole show so I have context). I haven't tackled overworld text yet, though (like pre-duel or the tournament-related text, which is all in the same file as all the story text). I've also been handling the in-duel dialogue as I go through the character stories, so also just up to Yusei, though I did take initial cracks at Aki's, Yuma and Shark's, and Yuya and Yuzu's for the video.

Other things tackled that were sprinkled into the video, along with some other notes:

Pack names and descriptions have been retranslated, though the descriptions may see minor edits closer to release for a little variety between worlds given the different characters at the shop. Character recipe names were also retranslated, with Yugipedia's translations for them used as an occasional second opinion, though ones based on pack names had to be abbreviated in spots.

Menu text, from the Options to Help screens and stuff in between, has been retranslated, as have in-duel text strings (so, you'll see a full "Activate Effect" instead of "Activate" or "Switch to Attack/Defense Position" instead of "Switch to ATK/DEF Position", etc--also fixed the "BATTELE PHASE" graphic typo, and NAC friend created a new translation for the "Turn Change" graphic for accuracy since ENG TF1-5 made that into "Next Player's Turn").

Database stuff, such as the Sound Test, Tutorials, Duel Missions, etc., have been retranslated closer to the Japanese text; originally I retranslated the Tutorial text via hex editor, with compromises done on quite a bit of it due to the space limits, but as Xan recently updated a text extractor tool of theirs to more cleanly pull out and reinsert that text, I've been going through and fleshing out those translations more (on my commutes to/from work mostly, to be productive lol).

As mentioned, I've been localizing/translating Japanese-text images throughout the game as I come across them, like with the in-duel onomatopoeia that come up during cut-ins or images in the shop/duel/etc screens using Japanese text, to make sure the game is fully translated.

The series logos, used during the title sequence and in the Series Select screens, were updated with translated fan edits shared on Deviantart (which we'll credit in the final release) for DM and GX, while the 5D's-ARC-V logos were edited to enlarge the "Yu-Gi-Oh!" text on them that was pretty hard to see originally.

The game's original opening sequence starts on an anti-piracy message before going into the Konami logo and then a "From Yu-Gi-Oh!..." screen before the opening animation for each series logo--the original team decided to use the first image to vent their frustration at Konami for not localizing this game, and while that's valid (to some extent), we thought we'd use the opportunity to dedicate this project to Kazuki Takahashi for inspiring our love for YGO and the place it's had in our hearts for all these years.

We'll be updating the names of cards that had TCG releases after the original patch was worked on/updated by FLSG to those corresponding names.

Xan has been working on many UI fixes for us to apply with this, among them 3-line dialogue box text as is used in the ENG TF1-5 games--once implemented for TFSP, I'll be going over everything to make full use of that extra space where needed, so things might not look as they do in the video by then.

Character bios will be worked on after I've done the story stuff, though I've taken initial cracks at it for Yuma and Yuya's bios for the video, along with translating the location/affiliation names ("Domino High School," "Satellite," etc).

Currently no release date is planned, as I'm working on this between my GX-finalizing work and actual IRL work, though we'll see how later this year looks as more work gets done--but as noted in the video, all things being equal, it will be released when everything is ready. I'll try to post regular updates or rambles now that this announcement's been made, lol, but do try not to constantly check in on a release date. 🙏🏽

All that said, I think that covers just about everything I wanted to put out there with this, lol. It's been fun to work on this so far and getting to see what I've re-translated in-game is definitely neat; looking forward to us being able to release everything when ready.

Stay tuned for more; the fun's just getting started!

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writing-in-lesbian · 3 months

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A Heiress in Love Pt. 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female Reader

Tags: angst, fluff,

Translations: Hainofi = princess // Strik sis [Strisis] = little sister // Ai hod yu in = I love you // Ste yuj = Stay strong //

Chapter synopsis: War is coming and some things need to be sped up for the alliances to work. Right in the middle of everything, someone will warn or new appointed commander about her betrothed.

A/N: This story keeps sending me into new research topics! I hope I’m doing them justice. Also since there aren’t a lot of trigedeslang transistors, everything in italics and underlined would be trigedeslang. Again, I’m partying ways from some canon events in the 100 in order for this to work. Work is not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 7 - A Heda on the Rise

The darkness seems to be more welcoming this time yet, the red fog that you saw before remains there, like a guardian.

Fainted noises try to make their way into your mind, but the dizziness you feel is more than enough to shut anything that tries to reach you. Your hand feels warm and is the kind that makes you feel sleepy and cozy. Feeling a squeeze into your hand, the darkness starts to dissipate slowly.

You get back into reality when you hear far away your name being called, turning to the right, where you think the voice is coming. Opening your eyes, you see your mom looking at you with worried eyes. Her lips mouth something to you but your brain is a little bit foggy.

“Are you okay?” Her echoed words reach your ears. “You seem a little uneasy”

“I’m fine” yet her mother instincts kick in and she gets next to you. Wanda just observing through her peripheral vision, not letting your hand go. Clarke is observing your face, she touches your forehead but feels only your cold skin.

The voices around you are a mix of angriness and confusion, Octavia and Natasha are having their staring contest.

“Octavia, there’s no need to duel Duchess Natasha” You hear your mother talk but your mind is trying to catch up, everything seems a little out of sync. Perhaps the lack of sleep, food, and water is taking finally a toll on you.

“Heda” whatever simple hand gesture Lexa does is enough to keep Octavia in silence.

“Mother, a flame keeper has been in grounders line for all time” you hear Madi say but can’t seem to fully understand it.

“Commander if I may,” Tony says, and to your surprise your mother acknowledges him with a simple nod.

“I know all I’m allowed to know about Flame keepers and I think with our nanotechnology we can improve the efficiency and security of it. That’s why, Duchess Romanoff would be dear Y/N guardian and you my dear…sorry don’t know your name”

He pauses, you guess, waiting for Octavia’s response, which never came.

“Well, you my angry brunette will be as well,” he says and you can guess the gasp you hear is Madi’s. You feel a squeeze in your hand and Wanda’s tense right next to you.

“It will be fine, you don’t have to be afraid,” you think as loud and clear as you can to calm Wanda, it worked before so, she should be able to hear you right away. The tension in your hand lessened and let you know it did.

“I’m not following,” Pietro says out of nowhere, you didn’t even pay attention when he arrived.

Your mother guides King Tony and your mom to the center of the table, pausing a little at seeing your ceremonial things still in place. She searches your gaze but you avoid it before meeting her eyes. You see her guards follow her and stand a few paces behind her.

“Mother if I may, I thought only the commander was worthy of carrying the flame, no offense to our guests here”

Madi approaches your mother, asking silently to clear everything, but is stopped by your mom. Clarke grabs her hand, making her stay there, out of your reach.

“Y/N, Wanda” Lexa’s voice is neutral but you detect a hint of warmth in her tone, her raised hand indicates for both of you to approach her.

You feel Wanda’s tug and in that moment you realize how stiff you were, if the crack of your knee indicates it. You walk slowly, never letting Wanda’s hand go, an action that is noticed by everyone. Clarke has a small smile adorning her face, while Natasha smirks. Octavia’s face goes neutral, even thou you know deep down she’s content with how things are seeming to go with Lady Maximoff and Pietro gives you his usual thumbs up. You search for Madi’s eyes, looking for the comfort a big sister could provide but you see only confusion.

“As we unite our people through my daughter and Lady Maximoff, we should never forget our origins and focus more on our similitudes rather than our differences” Lexa speaks softly but firmly, a tone you have heard many times when she was tucking you into bed explaining to her best effort, the hundred questions you bombarded her with at night.

That is enough to make you form a hard-to-see but small smile.

“We need to understand us and help us. The flame, Madi, is one of the things that make us grounders unique but is, as we know, dangerous for the receiver. To protect us, King Tony will improve the flame that Y/N will be getting, allowing me to continue to keep it as well until I transcend and pass it fully to her”

“If I may,” Tony asks “When Ultron got out of our alliance and started doing all crazy things, it reminded me that, what we all here seek, is the chance to live in peace, and when that is threatened and our loved ones are in danger, we protect them”

“Attack them and you attack me” you hear yourself saying.

“Precisely!” An over-excited Tony says, “It took me two hits close home to understand that I, couldn’t do it alone” he says while walking towards you.

Before he can reach you, Wanda takes a tiny step in front of you that causes Tony to stop before getting too close to you. His face is intrigued but doesn’t change his excitement. However, he changes slightly his course of action and goes to the table instead.

“I have been fascinated with grounders' culture since I met your mothers' ages ago Princess Y/N, so when the time called for it, I reached out to them and well, here we are”

That’s the most simplest way of explaining years of traditions in less than 10 seconds but he says this while getting something from under his coat. It’s a small red box with lines in yellow. He then proceeds to uncover his arm and punches some letters or that’s what you think he’s doing, in what looks like a bracelet, that is more than that as a hologram appears in thin air.

“That still doesn’t explain why Duchess Romanoff has to be the flame keeper,” Madi says, still not trusting any of this.

“I didn’t ask for it either nor do I understand it all but I trust Stark on it” Duchess Romanoff’s voice is so near you that you have to take all control to not shiver, instead squeezing Wanda’s hand, noticing the small smirk she has. For your own sake, you decide not to question it further. “Plus, I care for Wanda and if she becomes part of the grounder's culture, I want to understand it as well”

“Madi, daughter. Patience in one thing”

“Patience in all things” you hear your sister finish the sentence with a sour mode. A sentence that Lexa tried so hard to teach you when you were little and got impatient. You also remember the many lessons you had with her on the proper way of breathing and how to use it to control your anxiety or fears.

“We know the importance of the flame keeper, that’s why part of the agreement included sharing the information about it with them as well we allowed for someone to be part of it. A decision Clarke agreed on it”

At one point you suspected your mom was a big part of the decision on your marriage, the fact that she agreed on the Flame makes you wonder if it had anything to do with their past. You knew your mom carried it for a brief time and how it affected her. Perhaps all of this comes in the best interest.

“Out of all the pool presented, your mom and I decided Duchess Romanoff was the best candidate,” So your mothers chose who was going to bear it? “Not only is she an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but also has a high set of skills that will help keep Y/N and Lady Wanda safe if the case arises”.

Your mom lets Madi's hand and stands next to Lexa and, you figure this has a deeper commitment than you thought of.

“Along with Octavia” Clarke says “She more than anyone would know the importance of protecting their Heda” Just knowing that Octavia will take the role as well, gives you some type of comfort you didn’t know you needed.

Your mother explains while motioning for Octavia and Natasha to come. King Tony proceeds then to touch the hologram and you see the chip projected there and the image is more vivid and clear of what you have seen on your mother’s books and Becca’s library. There are a lot of small letters and numbers scribbled all over it, your best guess it’s that it contains the improvements your mother told you about. Still, how does it work, would it hurt now? You know before, the Flame would allow you to keep your thoughts separated, and now? What is all of this doesn’t work and the Flame chooses another person? Many questions are rounding your mind and it’s getting harder to keep track of all of them. Wanda’s thumb starts doing small circles in your hand, making you get out of your mind.

“I might not be able to read your mind but boy your thoughts are loud” and hearing her whisper so close to you, makes your skin and body tremble. A small chuckle leaves your mouth, getting just the attention of Madi, who looks at you with a curious expression.

“The adaptations I made, would allow Queen Lexa and Princes Y/N to be able to carry the flame, without having any dangers to their health, minimal pain for our princess here, and preserving all the qualities the first commander did”.

Lexa opens the box containing the Flame you’ll be getting soon, the small piece capable of uniting or separating nations, containing power and a lot of responsibilities, making you well aware that, if the old laws were still in place, a lot of people would die to get their hands on. Yet, the infinite symbol inscribed on it faintly glows.

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome daughter”

“Our nanotechnology has been a resource that many are after, and I’m more than happy to lend it to the aid of our new conjoint kingdoms and the well of their and our heiresses”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heinoffi”

You barely hear him, being more interested in the data and images showing virtually, the blue hem making it look fascinating to you, so much so that you barely register the small step you take towards it until you’re stopped by Wanda’s hand still in yours. Your mother notes this and takes a look at you, her curiosity getting the best out of her.

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heiress Woods-Griffin”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome daughter”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heinoffi”

King Tony keeps talking but is just white noise compared to what you are hearing. You have heard the stories, the legends, you know that the voices of past commanders, some kind of memory of them will talk with you… but it should be until you get the flame right? So, whose voices are these and why are you hearing them?

Natasha opens then the box, containing a similar but smaller piece of your flame, much to Octavia’s displeasure, noticeable on her face but is replaced soon by curiosity as she sees Wanda taking a step towards Natasha.

“The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here.”

You feel a sudden need to reach for the box your mother has, taking Wanda with you, who shows nothing but a willingness to walk, eager to get the box in Natasha’s hand. You hear nothing but the voices until….

CLANK, CLANK.

A metal noise is heard, making you stop in your tracks, your hand close to the box your mother had, which has been closed. Wanda’s hand is on the box Natasha has, with Clarke’s hand on top of it. You didn’t notice your mom moved, less see the other box being opened.

“Curios indeed” you heard King Tony say.

Wait, weren’t those the same words Aiden told you?

“Fascinating, isn’t daughter? My predecessors are eager for you to join us” and you look at your mother, her eyes are unguarded just for you and you see the love and pride in them, but you also see something else, you can’t pinpoint what it is yet.

“Lady Maximoff” she takes her sight towards Wanda and notices how, despite taking different steps, your hands remained linked. The small smile there is just perceptible for you and Madi.

“What is in front of you, is a replica of the Flame Y/N would be getting that you would be having in custody, hence why we decided to have two flame keepers, one, to guard Y/N and the other, to come in place if the occasion arises, you need to evacuate with the flame”

Wanda returns to your side, dropping your hand to play with her ring fingers, a piece of hair falls from her hairstyle, and you observe her while trying to comprehend everything that has been said, your mind racing a mile per second, tying things here and there. So if Tony requested the marriage to protect his lands and people, your mothers agreeing to it AND sharing the flame knowledge, plus including another flame keeper and a replica? What’s the real meaning of all of this?

“Would I always be hearing the voices?” Comes the quiet question of Wanda.

“You heard them?” Pietro, who up until this point was watching the whole thing unfold, approaches his sister. You can’t help but step a little in front of him.

“I…think?” Her eternal frown comes into place and you can’t help but notice that’s different from the one prior, this one is less pronounced, making her eyes smaller, although the tilted head remains the same.

“If you heard them Lady Maximoff, as precedent as this is, I believe it has to do more with your abilities, still, it doesn’t minimize the fact of it, especially for someone who’s not natblida” your mother says, not even a hint of surprise on her voice. Turning, you see your mom looking at Wanda with confidence, a spark of something you haven’t seen reflect it on someone outside your clan for a long time.

The fact that both of them knew about Wanda’s abilities makes you wonder how much they know, you recently learned them, but well, maybe King Tony shared that information. If your mothers agreed to

Madi opts now to turn and walk away, your instinct is going after her but your feet refuse to cooperate. By this time, the first signs of sunrise are showing, and the little place you have been all night starts to appear clearer. You can see more now the features of the ceremonial table and the articles left there, the thin smoke of the incense long gone, but the ashes remaining there, scattered on the table. Your mom has noticed the sun rising as well, whispering something to Lexa, and then proceeds to leave, taking Pietro with her with promises of breakfast and coffee. The last item offered, you think, shouldn’t be something Pietro should get his hands on, an over-caffeinated hyperactive child is the less you need now, yet, the thought brings a smile to your face.

”Now, there’s a journey ahead of us that we should prepare for. We leave in 15 minutes, horses are ready and I believe, King Tony wants to speak to you Y/N” Your mother takes the bowl containing your blood and needles and signals for the rest of the party to leave all, except for Octavia who maintains her position not far from you, but giving you enough privacy.

Wanda is hesitant to let your hand go. And after a few seconds of thinking she turns to leave, Natasha at her side in an instant.

“I’ll be out soon,” you say after her, taking her nodding as a sign that she heard you, saying it to try and reaffirm whatever worries or curiosity she might have or maybe it was to calm your worries. You haven’t met King Tony personally nor this close before, but here you are.

“Curios is a killer thing, don’t you think my darling?” He says while playing with the matches left on the place where the rest of your ceremonial things are.

“Not your darling, please don’t refer to me like that again” There’s an element you don’t like about someone calling you darling, other than really close people.

“Feisty, I see. No wonder why our dear witchy feels attracted to you”

“With all due respect King Tony, what is it that you wanted to talk? We need to leave soon and we have a few hours ahead of traveling. I would like to get ready”

But the fact of his words is making something inside you, clearly is nice to hear a confirmation that Wanda feels attracted but his tone and the way he said it, doesn’t suit you well.

“Yes about that… I just wanted to make sure you’re prepared for what might come?”

King Tony might be a lot of things, but discrete has never been his best strong suit. You need to inquire more about what has been said and agreed on this marriage thing.

“I am” and your voice carries so much strength and pride, just like your mother used to do and still does when her reasons are questioned. You have spent a lot of time studying, training and preparing for your ascension as Heda, the fact that a war might break soon makes you nervous, but you trust your preparation and your heritage.

“And if chaos breaks?”

The sun is almost up, mother nature indicating that your party must leave soon for the agenda to continue and not interrupt another thing. Although your ascension ceremony will be tomorrow night, you’re certain more things are preparing behind the curtains, didn’t Octavia mention something about Raven sending a package for your ceremony? To be honest, if Raven knew about it, then… when or how did she get the news about it? And how did she get them that fast?

A flock of birds past over your head, but your eyes remain on the King, gauging his reaction to your lack of response, trying to read him. He’s quite the character, making it a little bit difficult to find a truthful interpretation.

He takes your silence as something based on the chuckle he makes and proceeds to explain.

“Our dear witchy over there and future Mrs. Woods-Griffin can be something” his bracelet on the hand signaling where Wanda just left shines under the sun, making you realize you need to end this soon.

“You know about Wanda’s magic then” It’s not a question.

“If I know? Girl, I will be afraid if her chaos gets out of control-”

“So your better option was to ship her to a foreign kingdom so it gets out of your hand”

“Princess” and the tone is so petty you almost hate it. “I rather have her as an ally than be on the receiving end of her anger”

“I shouldn’t be entertaining you with these questions, but If chaos, as you and Aiden like to name her magic, decides to come out to play, I’ll be ready”

Your mother never taught you to look down first on a staring match, combine that with the stubbornness you inherited from your mom and you have a killer stare. Which makes King Tony smile like a madman.

“Good! That’s exactly why I choose you over Vision to be her wife, now chop chop Princess we have a journey ahead of us”

He leaves your side faster than you can comprehend what he just said. Of course, you have heard of Count Vision and his last attempt to have Wanda as a wife, the thought never sitting well with you, for all purposes, word has it that Count Vision is just as cold and heartless as a machine, but his assets and technology would have been something to pique the interest of Tony, yet he chose you over him, why? You have so many questions to ask your mother but are afraid she won’t answer them if she feels is not the time. Deciding not to dwell more on the issue you kneel to retrieve the bag where you carried your ceremonial things.

A chirp is heard somewhere in the trees, hurrying your steps, knowing Echo is just a moment away to come and retrieve whatever things you leave, you finally, step out of the ceremonial place and take a few seconds to enjoy the cold breeze.

This exact time, just a few minutes after sunrise, is the time you have come to love the most. The temperature is perfect, not warm yet not too cold, the wind is chill enough to be able to enjoy it without a heavy jacket. Your mother used to find you out of bed at this time many times, standing by your side, always extending her hand without saying a word, and every time you took it. Both enjoyed the silence and the company. She would later carry you back to your chambers, tickling your sides until you asked her to stop between waves of laughter. She did it until you were 6 years old, claiming you were too big for her to continue carrying you and wasn’t proper for a princess.

“Heinofi” Octavia's voice surprises you, having completely forgotten she was just mere steps away. Did she hear your talk with King Tony?

“Don’t you dare question what you have to offer, we all know anyone would be honored to be your wife”

“I’m not-“

“I know you Y/N, whatever King Tony said about Vision, ain’t worthy worrying your mind”

For many people, Octavia is just a distant, uninterested, savage brunette, but you know that’s just a facade, deep down she’s more intelligent and observant than a lot of people think, yet her nickname of Bloodreina holds up to her reputation.

She grabs your chin and lifts it so you can see her in the eyes, and what you see makes you question not for the first time, what have you done to have such a cool aunt care that deeply for you. Madi once joked about you being the daughter she wished she had.

“Thanks Aunt”

“Now, Echo had your horse packed and your mother awaits. I saw Wanda pass with Natasha so we should get going”

She proceeds to lead the way but your hand stops her before she can take more than two steps ahead of you.

“Aunt Tavia”

Octavia turns to look at you questioningly.

“Do you know the reasons my mothers agreed on all of this and if they were aware of Wanda’s abilities?”

You hesitate for a moment, your question taking her out of guard.

“You better than anyone should know that not all the important decisions your mothers take are shared with their counsels. That being said I know they were aware of what Wanda can make, and no Y/N I don’t know it. As for the reasons for the marriage to take place, I guess they balanced both options of suitors and decided on the best one, political and personal”

Wait, both?

“Both?” You ask but her gentle push for you to walk makes you trip, regaining your composure you keep walking but still waiting for her answer.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said it” She well knows you won’t let it go that easy, but for your benefit, since you had your wish granted, you keep quiet. Making a sign of erasing your mind with your hand, you smile and walk ahead of her.

It doesn’t take you too long to reach the parting point, you see ten to twelve horses at the ready, your mother guards already in place. Counting them and making mental notes of which horse is for whom, you notice five are still waiting for their rider but yours is not there.

“Daughter, are you ready?” Your mother’s voice welcomes you, just as she is mounting her black Percheron, her elegance is something you have always admired. You take it as a good sign that Philly is there, since you know that’s not her battle horse, since it has been a while since Raven implemented some upgrades and experiments on that department, no longer using life animals for it, but rather something mechanic, nor exactly a robot but similar.

“I am mother” Echo approaches you, with your own Lipizzan horse, his grey coat shining under the weather and his mane braided elegantly.

Approaching them you thank Echo and take Dasher’s reins. Your other hand caresses his forehead carefully avoiding his muzzle. You approach your forehead to his.

“Hey there Dash, ready for a journey?” His only response is his short snort. You have had it since you were eight, a present from Queen Regina, arguing if you were to be a good goddaughter, you need it to learn to ride properly. The relationship you had with Dasher has only been growing ever since, with both of you bonding almost immediately.

Those are the things that make you question how many of your relationships were just mere political movements rather than affection. Deciding to leave that thought for another time, you caress Dash one more time before a guard helps you mount him.

Once you are on him, you whisper small affective, and reassuring words into his ear, caressing his beautiful mane. You know Dasher can feel nervous sometimes when new people surround him, so you do your best to stay calm and transmit that to him.

“Lexa” you hear your mom calling her, she’s still on the ground. “Safe travels. I’ll see you soon” She takes Lexa’s hand for a few seconds and leaves with her guards towards the carriages zone, part of King Tony’s party is waiting over there, as far as you can see he’s not among them. You guess she might be doing something else for the wedding preparation with your guests.

“My dear Lexa, what beautiful creatures you have here” Well, that responded to your question about why he was not over there.

You’re guessing that if he was the one working on the new flame, he would be the one indicating how to handle it.

“We’re proud of our horses. Intelligent and magnificent creatures they are”

King Tony walks closer to the other horses, you supposed he would wait for someone to helpl him but to your surprise, he mounts it quite quickly.

“I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a while since I did it”

“You used to ride?” Your question is more of curiosity than anything else.

“Growing up, yes”

“Impressive horse Commander, and more impressive he hasn’t dropped Stark”

You turn to see Duchess Romanoff and Wanda slowly approaching, you haven’t thought why they weren’t there nor near the carriages when you joined.

“Very funny, let’s see how yours handles your presence” Is he indulging in the comment?

Without more thinking you descend Dasher and walk towards Wanda, offering a small smile which she reciprocates albeit reluctantly, which makes you frown a little.

“Those are beautiful horses Princess Woods-Griffin” so you’re back to formalities.

“Not as beautiful as you” You can hear and feel Octavia and your mother cringing from where they stand, already in her horses, but the small blush on Wanda’s cheeks makes it worthy.

“Echo and Finley will help you mountain yours, we need to be leaving soon” and the commanding voice your mother has is enough for King Tony to regain his composure.

“I have never ridden a horse before” It’s Wanda’s timid voice and now you understand her behavior and posture.

She’s afraid.

Her hands are playing with her rings, trying hard not to bite her nails, and her sight is fixed on Dasher, you can’t help but feel pride. He’s mesmerizing and gorgeous to look at.

“Then you must ride with me” and not soon after your words leave your mouth you know a reprimand will come your way.

For safety reasons, in every political travel, there must be only one rider per horse, in case there’s an ambush, your guards can help you escape in different routes and not compromise any of you. You know that this journey is way more than just a political thing.

“Daughter, I’m afraid that would have to be for another occasion” There’s not a drop of hardness or angriness in your mother tone, but a small warning.

And for the first time in forever, you do something you never thought you’d do.

You guide her to Dasher.

The horse sensing what are you going to ask, just moves with his head, signifying he’ll allow Wanda to ride him.

“Dasher would be yours for the journey then” Lexa, Octavia, and even Echo are well aware of what that means.

Dasher is to be ridden only by you, the horse not allowing anyone else to mount him, not even her first owner Queen Regina has been able to do it. Dasher never allows the saddle to be put on him if it’s not going to be for you, you guess that he can sense it and has a better instinct than most humans.

Not even Princess Danvers, your previous girlfriend did it. Dasher liked her but never allowed it to be ridden by her. When you two went out riding, you had to take Quinn, your other Lipizzan horse for it, she allowed other people with you.

Once, Queen Emma said that the connection you had with your horses was similar and way freaky than the one Regina had with Rosinante, her horse. You answered that she didn’t understand the connection between horses and humans since her horse wasn’t too happy with her. Queen Regina snorted, making you feel good. Until this time, is hard for you to call them godmothers.

“Is it yours? He’s magnificent” Wanda says and you can swear Dash neighs in response to that. Cheeky little bastard but you feel happy he’s allowing Wanda so far.

“Yes, his name is Dasher, he’s my main one”

Like reading your mind Dasher nudges his muzzle on Wanda’s shoulder and you encourage her to pet him.

Your mother observes this and smiles, happy to see you content despite the threat of war over your heads.

“Here, let me”

In an instant, Finley, the stable young man is at Dasher's side, putting his two hands together, so Wanda can step into them, this action needs it to push the rider up. You take Wanda’s waist and she jumps a little, surprised by the action.

“I’ll help you get onto him. Dasher is a gentleman but if you have never ridden, it can be tricky to get onto him”

Wanda looks at you, her ever-inquisitive look in place. She puts her hands on your shoulders, nodding her head, indicating she’s ready. You laugh and turn her, her back now towards you.

“Put your right foot on Finley’s hands and impulse your weight. Once you feel the push, your left leg should do a small arch over Dasher’s back. Ready? On three. One. Two. Three”

Wanda graciously mounts Dasher, giving you a memory to cherish for ages. Once she’s on Dasher you can see her nervousness be replaced with excitement, her smile getting bigger by the second.

Echo, who had taken over Dasher’s reins, gives them to you with a small nod.

“Here, this will help you guide him and to hold on to him. You won’t need to do much, since Quinn and I will go right next to you and Dash is excellent following us”

You had been involved a lot in their training, making sure both knew how to follow each other without a rider or an injured one. Sometimes your paranoia pays off.

“Okay” and is the smile and the brightness in her eyes that does it for you.

You go to Quinn, feeling Wanda’s eyes on your back, observing your interaction with Quinn, you salute her the same way you did it with Dasher. You mount her without help, years with them have made you agile. Echo passes your bags and sword. Thanking her you take a moment to whisper something into Quinn's ears, getting a snort in response.

“It seems we’re all ready. Indra” your mother motions for her most loyal warrior and leader. Indra gives this vibe of hating everyone but is nothing compared to Anya.

“Send a messenger to the clans. Let them know my daughter's Ascension ceremony will take place tomorrow. They should know we’re ready and we must stay united in our coalition”

Indra nods and takes off on her horse, you thought she would be going with you, but then again, a lot of things have been changing by the second. The guards open the gigantic gates, and you see the roads that lead to Polis, the royal guards leading the way, followed by your mother, King Tony, Duchess Romanoff, then you and Wanda, Octavia, and the rest of the royal guards behind

You hear some guards whisper safe travels. You’re somehow excited for what lies ahead. After all, you have traveled this road many times, knowing the safety of its course. Turning you see Wanda calmingly admiring the landscape, one hand in Dasher’s rein, the other, caressing him slowly. She’s a natural.

The sun is now fully up, giving the forest a whimsical view, everything seems calm, so you relax and let yourself enjoy the ride, a few moments of peace before the madness begins.

Tag List: @spongebobtentacles @wandamaximoff727 @cristin-rjd @aawake-atnight @msromanoffswife @juno-verse @wandastan-2 @wannabe-fic-reader @cd-4848

#ao3 author #cross posted on ao3 #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #a heiress in love #wanda maximoff x reader #fanfic writing

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weast-of-eden · 1 month

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it seems like some people actually liked my last fic rec, so here's another one, guys! this time i tried finding some fics that were a little different, like AUs, different POVs, rarepairs, WIPs, etc. again, these are pretty all set in canonverse (ACD or Granada) or victorian era unless specified otherwise. so without further ado, here is:

Eden’s ACD/Granada Unique Fic Recommendations

And With Him Disaster by eggshellseas (@/maxwelljacobfriedman on tumblr) 14k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is being stalked by a vampire. Notes: not-your-mother's vampire au, that's for sure. definitely read the tags before getting into this but man, this fic is so, so good. features not only vampire!holmes but also dark!holmes and it's a ride from beginning to end. ugh i want to talk more about this fic but i can't spoil anything!!

Into darkness then without a candle by Solshine (@/thehumantrampoline on tumblr) 10k | Rated T Summary: At first, Moriarty is just a disguise, like all the rest in his wardrobe; a helpful alias to bring Holmes closer to the evils he duels. And then the disguise wins at the Reichenbach Falls. AU inspired by the stage play, “The Secret of Sherlock Holmes." Notes: i can't even get into this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THISSSS. there are no words. if there were, the word would be: UGH. this is such a unique fic and watson really pulls through in this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THIS RIGHT NOW.

Back to Edinburgh by mightymads 4k | Rated T Summary: The Jezail bullet in Watson’s leg causes him so much pain that he is on the verge of despair. London doctors deem it impossible to extract the bullet without inevitable nerve damage. Holmes finds a surgeon in Edinburgh, who agrees to help. It is none other than Professor Joseph Bell. Notes: Dr. Bell says 'gay rights'! also Scottish Watson for the win! this is such a beautiful story, Watson really gets to take the center stage while Holmes gets to worry for his well-being. oh how the tables have turned. plus lots of ACD's personal life mixed with Watson's own, which I think makes this such a unique fic. it's just really nice to read. *chef's kiss*

The Red Notebook by Garonne 10k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is dead, or seems to be. Watson starts to write, and Mycroft starts to read. Holmes/Watson slash set during the Hiatus. Mycroft's POV. Notes: i LOVE Mycroft POVs, and this is one of my favorites. also i love fics that depict watson's stories as completely false, like Moriarty is not real and 'The Final Problem' was just john's way of coping. STELLAR FIC.

Some Power of Selection by wordybirdy 12k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is a struggling doctor in recent practice on London's Upper Wimpole Street. One dreary Wednesday, an urgent telegram summons him to 221B Baker Street, where he meets a sombre and initially taciturn gentleman by the name of Sherlock Holmes. Sparks immediately fly – but not of the positive, life-affirming variety... Notes: enemies to lovers AU for the win! Stamford is such a knob in this one, truly. but that's okay, our heroes figure themselves out anyways. great banter in this one, if you like rom-coms then this is the fic for you!

One Page Is Missing by PlaidAdder 2k | Rated T Summary: "From this point onward I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do." --The Hound of the Baskervilles, Chapter 8 **** This is the missing page. Notes: ok first of all you should read all of PlaidAdder’s Missing Pages series, it’s so beautifully written. this is the first of the series and the premise is so interesting and mysterious! this fic is for any fans of HOUN (me) or enjoyers of jealous Holmes (also me)

On the Orbits of Asteroids by Sheila_Snow 22k | Rated E Summary: Watson has a secret from his past that he's kept from Holmes, but the past has a tendency to come back and haunt you. Notes: Watson/Moriarty fic. yes you read that correctly and YES it's crazy good. there's still holmes/watson but it's angsty and– i can't even get into it, you just gotta read for yourself. also feat. Moran who is currently questioning his sexuality (yeah watson will do that to you mate)

The Better Part of Valour by rachelindeed 7k | Rated T Summary: Mr Melas considers himself a coward, but more than one man's courage comes with complicated cracks. Notes: for any fans of 'The Greek Interpreter' (aka ME) this fic is the coolest ever. POV from Melas, who is smart, witty, and very observant. you get to meet Paul Kratides when he's not in the middle of being tortured, plus the ANGSTIEST background story about Watson's war injury. Oof. But I literally love this fic guys pwease read it

☆The Adventure of the Purloined Heart by ladyblahblah (@/hungrylikethewolfie on tumblr) 15k | Rated M Summary: A gruesome murder unveils secrets kept buried for years. Some feelings can only be hidden for so long. Notes: This fic checks every single box for me. HOLY SHIT. It's got murder, mystery, intrigue; it's got pining, secrets, and unrequited (?) love. I think the reason I'm so unwell about this fic is because it's a WIP that ends on a doozy of a cliffhanger. if god loves me he will let this fic be finished one day. IT'S SO GOOD GUYS PLEASE READ THIS FIC. in my ao3 history is says 'visited 12 times in the past month.' what is wrong with me

i hope someone out there enjoys these! also i was going to tag the authors whose tumblrs i knew, but then i chickened out, so... sue me i guess?

also if there’s any AUs, tropes, or somesuch fics you wish existed but can’t find, feel free to ask me!! maybe i’ve read something you’re looking for :)

#sorry if i got a little wonky at the end #but that last fic is literally my bible #ngl i kinda gave y'all the goods on this one these are all soooo good #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #granada holmes #granada johnlock #acd johnlock #fic rec #acd johnlock fic rec #granada johnlock fic rec #holmes/watson

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saradika · 11 months

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— the knight and her lady

knight!fennec shand x princess!reader

rated E - 3.7k

prompts - “can I kiss you?” & fairytale au

tags: medieval/fairytale au, soft sapphic romance, use of weapons in a competition, power dynamic (princess & knight), forbidden love, soft!dom Fen & inexperienced reader, kissing, fingering, implied squirting, oral sex

written for @flightlessangelwings’s Pride Challenge!

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

(Or - You steal away to your knight, to celebrate a spectacularly-won archery tournament.)

You supposed you should be paying more attention to your host - but you can’t tear your eyes away from the knight in front of you.

The sun glinting off her forge-blackened armor, her movements still fluid even with the extra weight of the steel. Joining the long row of competitions, an ornate longbow slung across her back.

It’s been a long day. A good day - the tournament bringing in visitors for miles. Filling the wooden seats and air with laughter and music. With roasting meat and summery, fruity mead.

But still, you watch.

Fingers clasped, pressed on a knee that bounces with anticipation.

You don’t think he minds. The singularity of your attention, content to sit in near-silence next to you. A month ago you would’ve been ashamed at yourself - ignoring the King like this - but at the moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

If he had minded, you think that he wouldn’t have taken the flower you had clutched so tightly to your chest. Plucked from the woven crown of greenery and flora around your head, handmade for today.

Telling you he’d “get this where it needed to go” in those few moments before the first event began.

It’s the last event of the afternoon, now - the morning filled with rounds of jousting, the clash of hand-to-hand combat.

You had worried she’d entered both - had felt the butterflies in your stomach when the quiet, silver knight she was seen with so often with took to the field.

But he had been alone. And had been victorious, in the end. A flurry of black slashes with his sword had seen to that.

Part of you wondered if she had attended, if that still would have been true.

The shrill sound of a whistle cuts through the air, as the participants line up. The wave of a green and gold banner as the first arrows fly.

There's the loosening of strings - arrowing flying in arcs towards the target mounds, with their painted red centers. Several falling short, the feathers quivering in the wind, most piercing through cloth and earth within the neat rings.

Scores called out as competitors are eliminated, the judges marking notes down on their scrolls. Those removed make their way to the border, to call out and heckle their friends with the rest of the crowd.

Ser Shand remains for this round, and then the next.

You watch with bated breath as her fingers crook around the string as each round passes. Thinking about last night and the ones before.

A slow, building boldness of wandering mouth and fingers. Stroking over silk and steel, soft sounds swallowed by the night.

Each release sends an arrow flying neatly down the field, landing in the red middle circle again and again. Again and again, until there were only two competitors left on the field.

The suspense was palpable, that teasing chatter dwindling down to nothing. The fabled ‘assassin-turned-knight’ competing with the up-and-coming Lord Calican - this would-be duel that would be spoken about for weeks after.

You had utmost faith in your knight, but you couldn't help the worry as the wind rustled your skirts, tugged at your crown of flowers. Fingers reaching up to pull it down a little tighter, just as the flag waves again.

The crowd holds their breath.

They fire at the same time.

There's an uproar, as the arrows hit. The judges racing to look, Lord Calican turning on Ser Shand. A pointing finger at the mounds, down at her feet. Even from here you can see the arch of her brow, rising in disbelief.

You don't even notice the way your hand drifted down, curling in the soft green velvet of the King's sleeve. Only when his gloved hand comes down to pat against yours, do you realize - letting go quickly and sheepishly.

The small smile he sends your way is kind. As is his answer, as he replies to the advisor next to him - asking if he should step in.

"My knight is not so easily bested." The King boasts, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Here, just watch."

You can just make out the argument. It's clear that her arrow flew straight and true, hitting dead center. His off, just a hair lower on his own target.

Rounding on her to claim that she had taken a step closer while firing - had been out of bounds.

There's a knowing and condescending smile, as he turns red in the face with argumentative anger. Leaving him mid-rant to move a handful of meters back. Close to the edge of the field, before she stops.

Turning - taking barely a second to fit an arrow, aim, and fire.

It flies down the field in silence.

Striking where her first had landed, splintering it down the middle.

The crowd explodes. Shouting and cheering as they all decide the winner on their own. Your voice joins theirs as you find yourself leaping to your feet, leaning against the tall rail in front of you.

Excitement and joy and something else, something honey-sweet swirls in your stomach. Your heart thudding in your chest as you see her turn - finding your eyes in the crowd.

The small smile and wink sent your way.

Striking her target, one last time.

You sneak into the tents, after.

Scattered across the open field, gathered around small campfires. It would be easier to travel back the mile or so into the city, but it was a long-held tradition to stay on the grounds the night before a tournament.

Easier to group up, to celebrate. Less mess to clean when playful song and teasing turned into drunken brawls between sore-losing, mead-filled competitors.

Lifting the crimson flap of the tent emblazoned with her symbol. Large for its size - a nest of pillows and a bedroll tucked off to the side, upon the thick carpet of grass. A wide bench on the far wall, one edge littered with fletching supplies. Two chairs and a sturdy table standing on a coarsely-woven rug.

She's there - still clad in that dark armor. Plucking the archery gloves from her fingers in a way that has your eyes dropping down to her hands again. Watching as they appear from behind the leather, as you hover just inside.

Lingering, until her eyes are lifting. A smile coming then, a flash of pretty teeth between the curve of her lips.

You go to her, letting the flap fall behind you. The tent well-light in the afternoon sun, filtering in pretty shades of red and gold.

“You were incredible.” You tell her, almost shyly. The way you had been watching had felt almost vouyeristic, but maybe that was just the winding of your thoughts, the slow sweep of your eyes.

“I could not lose, with your favor.” Fennec’s fingers work at her armor. Loosening her chestplate enough to dip inside, draw out the rose from where it nestled between her breasts.

Plucked so carefully from your woven crown, the color tipping from pink towards purple. It spins between her fingertips, the hidden meaning not at all lost on her.

“You know…” Her head tilts, then - with the sly curl of a smile, “In some tournaments, the victor is awarded a prize.”

It still stuns you, even though she gives them to you freely.

But you’re familiar with the customs. A favor bestowed, a bag of coin awarded.

“What would you ask for?” You question with a little furrow of your brow - taking those few steps, until you’re reaching the edge of the rug.

“Perhaps a kiss from a fair maiden?” She taps her chin thoughtfully, though her eyes never leave your face. Asking it like a question, though you’re sure she’s been planning this.

Sending up a flutter in your stomach, your heart kicking up a beat.

“Is that all you desire?” You own question comes out breathless, as she steps closer.

Her smile is enigmatic - her rose set down carefully on the table. Your tongue peeking out to wet your lips, eyes dropping to the pretty curve of hers.

Your eyes start to drift shut, the anticipation curling sweetly in your stomach.

But it doesn’t come - the press of her lips. The swipe of a tongue. Instead, there’s the pressure of her fingers ghosting against your hips, her voice in your ear.

“Mm. I didn’t say where, sweetness.”

Her voice is low, throaty. It sends a little shiver up your spine, as her innuendo sinks in. It had your eyes opening, surprise lingering in the pretty part of your lips.

“Your face,” She laughs, but not unkindly. “You are too sweet, little bird.”

Her touch lifts then, fingers catching your chin and tilting it towards her face.

Lips pressing against your cheek, feather-light. Then your jaw, the soft spot under your ear as you melt against her.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” She husks, “Would you let me take what is mine?”

In your head, you answer. An eager affirmative that comes out as a soft whine, instead. Another low, rasping laugh before her mouth is pressing to yours, finally giving you what you need.

Your fingers clench around steel, the heavy leather of her belt. She swallows your sigh, a soft curl of her lips in a hidden smile before she’s tasting you, licking into your mouth.

There had been shock, before - you won’t deny that. Heat rising to your cheeks at her words, so very public.

She loved your sweetness, the arch of your brows, the little intake of air. So very different than the rough and tumble of the other knights and soldiers.

But it didn’t mean you didn’t know. That you didn’t want.

A little fire that you’ve kindled in your belly, all day. The spark starting as she snuck up from the field to find you that morning - fingers brushing over your waist, the curves of your breasts as she helped you lace up the back of your dress.

“Such a pretty thing,” She had cooed, smoothing down the layers of fabric, the spray of stars embroidered across your skirts.

You had thought she meant the dress - until you caught her gaze in the mirror you were facing.

It was a pretty sight - her arms around you. You were sure your thoughts had reflected hers, in that moment.

How easy it would be to slip a hand beneath your skirts - to loosen the laces of your chemise. A thrill has thrummed in your veins, until a knock had sounded at the heavy wooden door.

Mourning the proximity, as she had stepped away.

It makes you want to take her little tease, twist it into something tangible. Pulling back from the warm press of her mouth to murmur a question against her neck.

“Can I kiss you, too?” Your lips brush her neck, that sliver of skin above the cold iron of her gorget.

You can feel the hum of her laugh, as her chin tips up to give you more room, “I’d say you are, princess.”

The way she sighs the title makes you not despise it. No simpering in her tone, nothing to remind you of your duties and promises that you want nothing more than to break.

It has your mouth moving. Pressing kisses to her armor, leaving the ghost of your breath against the cold, dark iron.

A hitch in her breath as you begin to lower yourself, reaching the curve were the metal is shaped at her chest. Gathering your skirts in one hand as you reach the bottom of her cuirass.

Her fingers are twisted in the fabric at your shoulders - eyes dark when you glance up. Unable to resist the pull of you on your knees for her, out in this field, stolen away in her tent.

A second, as she blinks - coming back to herself.

“Your dress, little bird-” She protests, knowing how much you had been looking forward to wearing it.

It feels like nothing now. Not even wrinkles or the threat of dirt could sway you.

Your face tips up as the want reflects in your own eyes, “Please. I want to. I’ve thought about it, I-”

You’ve dreamed about it. Tasting her more than just the slip of your fingers against your tongue. Not doing so before because she’s never asked, and you’ve been too shy to.

Wondering if it would be something she’d want - not knowing how to navigate this path with someone who’s bound to you in such a way that made desire and duty so confusing.

Your words are enough. A sharp exhale of breath as she takes a step backwards, the spread of her thighs as she lowers herself to that wooden bench.

It takes no time for you to fit between them. A small glance over your shoulder to make sure the tent flap is closed, before your fingers are slipping beneath her armor.

“I’ll keep watch, sweetness.” She husks, leaning back to let you work, “Don’t you worry.”

You shouldn’t know how to take her apart. It’s not proper, not at your station. If anyone found out, rumors would spread like wildfire. You’d surely be sent home - separated from her.

But your fingers move easily - plucking at buckles and straps. Piece by piece, as fluidly as she had put you together this morning.

Revealing the dyed linen of her surcoat - black and edged with red embroidery. Her cuirass set gently against the edge of the bench as her hips raise enough that you can tug down her trousers, letting them pool around her ankles.

She’s unashamed, thighs parted for you. Hands brace on the bench - watching you as your eyes drift down to where only your fingers have been, in the dark.

Thrilled at the way she glistens, that you did that yourself. Nerves and desire twisting and fluttering in your stomach like the fletching on the arrows, before.

Trying to thinking about when she’s kissed you, like this. How every touch and brush of her tongue brought pleasure you had never known. Thinking that you could do that, that you wanted to - for her.

She murmurs your name as you move. A soft kiss to her center, letting your tongue peek between your lips. Dragging against her slit, tasting the sweet tang of her cunt, unable to help groaning into her as your hand comes to wrap around her calf.

Getting more bold, with each of her shaky breaths. Listening and learning each little sound, determined to do well for her.

Finding the hard, sensitive bud beneath the dark curls - feeling the pinch of her fingers against your shoulder when your tongue flattens against it.

An eager shift forward, pressing yourself further against her. Eyes closing when a moan buzzes in her throat, hands brushing your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. Closing around the crown, bruising the petals with the force of her fingers.

“Stars, sweet girl,” She sighs, a gentle buck of her hips as she urges you, “Look at you, on your knees. You look so pretty, you know that?”

It shoots through you, as you clench around nothing. Unable to help squirming as your fingers trace along her thigh, up and then up.

A look up when she’s silent, only to see the clench of her jaw as she holds her sounds back. Trying to keep quiet, in this open field.

Then you hear it, muffled behind a hand, as your finger sink in. This part you know - eyes closing again as your fingers crook and curl.

Her thighs closing sharply around your shoulders when your lips return to her, a soft suck against her clit.

Tightening around you as her hips start to move, as she tugs you against her. Unable to help the panting, groaning praise.

“Right there, gods - just like that. Yes, my love, yes-”

Your eyes open just in time to watch her fall apart. Tongue pressed against the pulse of her clit as she grips your fingers, coating them with her release.

A moan pulled from her throat, high before she catches it. Her chest heaving as your fingers ease from her when she relaxes, slipping into your mouth before your tongue dips inside her.

Tasting the salty musk of your triumph, thinking you understand in this moment the way she enjoys having you beneath her.

Knowing that you’ll never want to stop, now that you’ve had a taste.

Blinking up at her as she smiles, a small shake of her head.

“Just look at you, pretty girl.”

Her thumb swipes over the slick that’s smeared across your lips, your chin. Pressing it against your bottom lip until they part - cleaning her from her fingers.

Disheveled and eyes blown wide with lust, tasting like her as she stands - swiftly tugging up her trousers before her hand is tucking under your elbow.

Pulling you to your feet as you frown, before she’s whisking you over to her bedroll. Kissing you, her tongue delving into your mouth as she lowers you down onto the pile of pillows.

“Can’t wait to touch you, sweetness.” Her voice is syrupy smooth, low in your ear, “You get so wet from me looking just at you. I bet you are soaked from eating my cunt.”

It makes you tremble, a heat rising in your cheeks at her crude words. A little laugh as she does just like you had dreamed about before.

A hand tucks behind your head as she kisses you. Stroking your tongue as her fingers work at your bodice. Breaking the kiss, only to wrap her lips around a tight nipple, flicking her tongue against it.

Your moan is loud, wanton. Unable to hold yourself back, as she had. She shoot you a look of warning, shushes you before kissing across your chest.

Grateful for her touches, as your desire thuds between your thighs. Completely eclipsing that feeling from before, making it feel no more than a flutter.

Unable to compare to the way you need her, now.

There’s a sweet satisfaction that slices through you, when she dips beneath your smallclothes. The moan into your shoulder as she hovers over you, when she realizes just how right she was.

How the soft cotton is soaked through. How her fingers meet slick skin beneath, no resistance as she immediately sinks two fingers inside.

You gasp at the stretch, teeth biting down on a whine. Unable to see anything other than the bare curves of your breaths, your skirts piled high.

But she leans down to look, a soft purr to her voice, “Oh princess. My needy little thing.”

Telling you how pretty you look with her fingers in you, as her thumb presses against your clit. Your eyes fixed on the teeth that sink into her lip, as she tugs down the cotton to bare you fully.

Watching the shine of her fingers as they pump into you. You’d be embarrassed at how wet you are, how swiftly she builds you up and up, if you hadn’t been waiting for her touch for so long.

A soft cry when her mouth returns to your breasts, the ache as she makes a mark that will be hidden by your bodice. Something just for her - later, before she’s tasting herself on your tongue again.

Swallowing your gasps as you squirm, her fingers pounding and crooking against a place that steals your breath. Pinning you down with a thigh that straddles yours.

Her own soft growls as she sees you start to come undone - the glazed look in your eyes. Remembering how sweet and eager you were for her - wanting to return that feeling a million times over.

“Want to make you come, princess.” Her mouth is against your ear, as your hands fist in her surcoat, “Let me feel you, sweet thing.”

Fennec’s elbow presses into the bedroll as she leans over you. Her fingers keeping their pace as your vision grows hazy. Your senses filled with her and only her, as she presses kiss after kiss to your trembling lips.

Humming low in her throat as your fingers pinch harder into the cloth. A tiny, wrung-out gasp of her name, as something builds and builds - pushing you past a point you didn’t know you had.

And then, it snaps. Pleasure and relief pounds in your veins, the thud of your heart drowning out the sounds of your cries as she catches them with her mouth.

Her fingers unrelenting, dripping with you as she fucks you through the tight pulses of pleasure. Her palm slapping against slick skin as she draws it out, until your fingers untwine. Reaching down to catch her hand, unable to take it any longer.

Thoroughly worn out, overcome with your pleasure. Unable to do more than press a hand against your face as she leans over to look at the mess you made.

Another soft groan at her cat-like smile - fingers tracing against your damp thighs as she revels in this new discovery.

“Gods. I can’t wait to watch you do that again tonight.”

Kissing away your embarrassment, with soft encouragement peppered between each press of her lips. How it slowly fades as she wraps herself up with you, curled together on her bedroll.

Grateful for the way she had pulled your skirts up and out of the way - always looking out for you. Watching over you as you doze, the red and gold speckles of sunlight warm against your face.

It’s easy to forget then, about your worries. Wondering how this story between you would end. How this love that had blossomed between you could ever fully flourish in the sun.

Instead, it’s just a glorious day. An evening to bask in, and celebrate.

Staying sleepy and content until her name is called, and she’s throwing you a look - quickly helping you lace your bodice up. Smoothing down her own clothes while she steps outside.

Coming back with her arms laden with gifts - a sack of gold, a basket of fresh fruit. A heavy bottle of spotchka, tucked under her arm.

“My winnings,” She smiles, with a happy lilt to her voice, “And here I thought I’d already had them.”

You know that right now, your smile mirrors hers.

As she leans down to kiss you, once again.

purple roses can symbolize love at first sight! it can also mean adoration and fascination with someone (& used the term ser in a very ‘ser brienne of tarth’ sort of way)

and lastly - thank you Jey, for hosting this challenge! Such an awesome idea, I was excited for the chance to contribute a fic. 💖

#fawpride2023 #fennec shand x reader #fennec shand x you #fennec shand x f!reader #fennec shand

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