#amaryllis chapter 6

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 6

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 9.2K

Rating: E

Warnings: Here we GO! We’ve made it to approximately the halfway point and the overall E rating for this story so minors DNI! I know some of this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea so heed the warnings… the beginning isn’t smutty and is definitely important so if you’d rather skip the smut just read for a bit and you’ll know when things shift— Also, Reader is hispanic (no physical description aside from accent and growing pregnant belly) and we dive a little deeper into her history— Fluff, smut, fingering, oral (m & f) receiving, pregnancy, pregnant sex, unprotected PIV (be safe y’all), normal bodily functions when pregnant i.e. lactation, reader’s horror at the realization, but Frankie doesn’t mind, lactation kink? Kind of? If you squint? Praise, dirty talk? They honestly don’t realize what they’re saying lol ummm I think that’s all, but please let me know if I missed something!

Summary: You see Frankie for the first time in two months. Emotions run high as he lays out his plan to deal with Tom.

A/N: I’m so nervous and excited to get this out…. We definitely still have a lot of story left to cover, but here is 9.2k worth of some much needed reprieve for these two. I’m sure there are mistakes aplenty, and I own them all. Everything started running together so before I just deleted the whole thing, I decided to say fuck it and post what I had. There’s also a good chance that I overused … and — but 🤷🏼‍♀️

Anywho, let me know what you think and as always thank you so much for reading!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When you walk in, you know exactly what is waiting for you. But seeing him, actually seeing him hits you harder than you anticipated.

He’s sitting in a chair set off to the side of the room. There’s a coffee table between his and another chair to match, but pushed back so it’s not in the way. There’s also a computer desk set up in the corner, to accommodate working guests. The kitchenette is small, but there’s a fridge, microwave, sink and even a full stove. The King size bed set to the back of the room is neatly made. Untouched, so you know Frankie hasn’t been here long. You know he lives in the City, so he must’ve booked the room for the sole purpose of your meeting. You look over and his eyes are trained on your form, looking at you from underneath his hat.

Frankie knew from your letter that you had agreed to meet with him, but he couldn’t help the intake of breath at seeing you. You’ve always been beautiful, so he’s not sure if it’s just the length of time since he’s seen you last or what it is completely, and even as cheesy as it sounds to himself, he feels his breathing basically stop. If only for a moment, but there’s been very few things in his life that have left him that way.

—Two months is a long time for anyone, but generally people don’t change very much physically in that amount of time. In this instance though, you are much further along than when he last saw you and he can’t help but think how absolutely perfect you are.

You make your way to the chair opposite him and sit down. He’s shifted now so that he is leaning toward you, but neither of you say a word.

He slowly reaches for your left hand. Asking permission without breaking the silent spell that’s cast itself upon you both. You graciously accept and he takes your small hand between both of his. His thumb lightly tracing over your knuckles. He’s looking at your hands now. The giant eye sore on your ring finger, his focus. He twists it around your finger absentmindedly. You both know how little meaning it truly has. At least any meaning that was worth something. A burden. A chain - tethering you to someone you’ve never held even the slightest bit of affection for, or received for that matter.

He spins it around until the face is no longer visible. Neither of you have spoken, but the silence is deafening; containing every single thing you both wish you could say.

You notice a small piece of hair falling over his eyes - still downcast on your hand in his. Without thinking, you swipe the hair to the side.

He stills at the contact—

Slowly he lets go of you entirely. You’ve touched him like this before, so surely he’s not upset?

He sits back and puts his right hand against his face; his palm almost covering his mouth and chin and his fingers rest near his jaw. His other hand is resting under his elbow… He rocks back, then forward slightly and his eyes find yours.

What is there to say? He knows the situation you’re in. He asked you to come here because he thinks he has a plan, but you know that nothing can be done in this situation. This situation that you thought of as a selfless act to protect you mother. How very childish of you..

But you had been. A child that is..

18 years old - a “legal adult.” Definitely not ready to be thrown into this world, evidenced by your idiotic decision to agree to this “deal” that has done nothing but hurt you. Not that you really had much choice in the matter at all. And Frankie… Oh Lord, Frankie knows most of the details, but you didn’t tell him everything. You worry that the look he’s giving you now will be replaced by that of pity or worse, disgust. That he won’t look at you like you’re everything— like he is now.

You are broken out of your thoughts by Frankie as he abruptly stands in front of you. You look up at him… A silent question on your face - ‘What do we do?’ ‘How do we fix this?’

He is looking down at you now… his breathing picking up slightly.

In this entire span of time, not one word has been uttered between you. He’s still looking down at you and you’re caught in his gaze. You don’t look away from him. Everything you want is right in front of you, but has never seemed further away. Being ignorant to a situation or just simply being unsure can make you sad and unhappy; this is true. But it’s nothing like knowing exactly what you want and also knowing that you can’t have it. There’s always hope that eventually you can change your mind or make a decision when you have a choice…. But this? It’s like being in a room surrounded by unbreakable glass with no doors. You see everything—everything you could possibly want, with absolutely no way to obtain it.

He shuffles around, turning away, then back again before finally resuming his place in the chair opposite you. His elbows are on his knees with his hands hanging loose between them.

After a moment, you take a deep breath and you stand up. He raises his eyes to you as you slowly make your way to stand directly in front of him.

You’ve got his full attention now. There’s maybe a few inches of space between his face and your much larger belly, that has grown significantly since you last saw him, and his focus is drawn to it. You take this opportunity to slowly brush your fingers along the side of his head… His eyes close as you push his hat back enough to card through his hair. You think to yourself how soft his hair is and how good it feels between your fingers. Both of his arms reach up and lightly brush your sides where they hover there. He won’t attempt to touch you in any way without your say so. He looks up at you now and your barely perceptible nod is all he needs before his hands lightly grasp your waist and he pulls you closer. He buries his face against your middle - Your belly getting in the way, but he pulls back slightly, and lays his right hand flush against it.

You feel like you are frozen… Not with fear, but with a feeling you can’t even begin to describe. All you know is that it is so good and so intense, that you never want it to end.

It’s at this moment, he leans forward and closes his eyes, whispering a kiss just above your belly button. The moment his lips touch the soft fabric of your shirt, you start to cry. Your tears are flowing unbidden down your cheeks, lightly splashing onto Frankie’s hair. He looks up and once he sees your tears, he stands and grabs both of your hands. He begins shushing you quietly. Whispering softly, “Shhh, shhh… It’s ok…. It’s ok….” as he pulls you in and wraps his arm around your head - bringing you to his chest while his other arm pulls you into his embrace. You reach up and place your hand on his chest, your face buried in his neck. Your other hand is against his back and you both just stay like that. You breathe each other in and let yourselves feel the warmth of the other. The sound of his heartbeat is a soothing rhythm to your racing mind. You reach your hand up to his neck and he is so warm. You hadn’t realized that after years without a loving touch, you are completely starved. Your hand continues moving up until you’re covering his cheek with your palm and you finally decide to look up. His eyes have been on you the entire time. Just waiting to see what you would do. He would hold you like this as long as you needed him to and he would cherish every second of feeling you against him.

He reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb barely brushing your bottom lip and your lips part at the feeling. His thumb stops and just rests there as his fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head just a little higher. His eyes are still searching yours— Asking you, pleading with you to do something. Your hand moves to the back of his head, playing with the hair that lightly curls there.

He tilts his head down and closes his eyes as his forehead touches yours. You close your eyes and your breath hitches as the sheer intimacy of the situation hits you… It’s not just a sexual tension, although it’s there, sparking like a live wire ready to catch flame - But, no… This, right now, is more soul encompassing. Safe and Warm.

—

After what seems like no time at all, the anxious part of your mind remembers what brought you here… other than just being able to see him again. —“Frankie?” Your soft voice a question, barely perceptible over the sound of his heart.

“Hmm?” He breathes the sound into your hair.. not ready to separate just yet.

“What’s your plan?”

—Frankie’s eyes open at that, but he still doesn’t want to move. You hear him sigh, and he very reluctantly pulls away, not far, but enough so he can look down at you. His arms are still wrapped around you lightly. You’re angled to the left slightly to make room for your belly…

“I don’t know how much time we have.”

—“Don't worry about that querida. Pope has Tom all the way in the City and he’s going to keep me updated on how everything goes. That’s why I wanted to be here in town in case things went south, so you would be close to home and could get there quickly if needed.”

‘Home.’ You flinch at the word. You don’t even know what a home feels like anymore.

“Ok.”

After a moment, Frankie steps back and motions back over to the chairs he was sitting in when you got there — For this part he wants you to be sitting. He knows that you’re not going to be happy about it, but after talking to the guys, well Santi and Benny anyway. Besides Will, the only people who know Tom better than even he does, it seemed like the most plausible option that could get through to him. If anything or anyone could, it would be in an environment that Tom knew. In a situation and setting that he was normally in control of.

“So, Pope has this job that he’s been begging all of us to help him with for the last few months.”

“Who’s us?”

“Our old team. Aside from Pope, there’s me, Will and Benny, and our fearless leader, Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis. It’s not on the books as a normal job, but kind of a free will mission.”

The confusion is evident in your face, but you don’t question it. He’s got a plan, so you just have to let him get it out.

—“This is, uh, well… I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I’ve thought about it. Enough to think that there’s a chance anyway. I’ve talked to the guys about it also, sparing details of course. But I talked to the people who know Tom the best. Santi and Will have known him longer than even I have and Santi agrees that this is the best way to try and get Tom to ‘see the light’, if you will.”

-You’re still confused. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you keep looking at him. Hoping it will start to make sense to you.

—“This job…. It would uh, require all of us working together as a team. Maybe as a team, we can also convince him that what’s been happening is wrong.”

You’re not sure what you expected, but talking to Tom? That was his plan??

“No. No, no, no, no, no…. Frankie, just talking to him isn’t going to solve anything. Tom may be your Leader out there,” you point toward the window. “But here?” There are tears running down your cheeks now. You told Frankie about your situation, but you didn’t tell him how deep it goes. He doesn’t understand that talking is pointless. Your emotions get the best of you and the floodgates open.

“Here, Frankie…. Here, Tom owns me. I’m essentially property. Sold to the highest bidder, who would pledge to keep me safe. My Abuelo…” you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

You breathe in, then out…. “My Abuelo promised me to him. After my Papá passed away, we went to live with him. I was young and the last thing I did was promise my Father that I would keep my Mamá safe and taken care of. I was an only child and she has always had problems with her health.”

—Frankie has been standing this whole time, so he slowly shifts to the chair and sits down. His face shows no emotion… he’s just taking in everything you have to say. You stumble a bit but eventually you work up enough courage to just spit it out.

“It was an arranged marriage, Frankie. Simply put, divorce is not an option. Especially now, being divorced and a single mother would be a disgrace to my family. My Abuelo knew Tom through family friends, Tom offered…. And so it just was….”

You look at Frankie and he is still stone faced. You continue despite the shame you feel at what happened next…

“Tom was handsome, had money, and was looking for someone to come home to when he was on deployments… You, well you know the rest.”

Your Abuelo had made it sound as though it was the perfect opportunity for you.

Frankie seems to take a moment to digest your words…

—“So what are you saying? That the only way out of this is ‘Til death do you part?’”

All you do is nod.

“But.. and please don’t think I’m being insensitive here, I’m just trying to understand.”

“Ok…”

“You don’t live in Cuba anymore. Things are different here. You’re allowed to marry and divorce as many times as you want! Hell, in some states you can marry multiple people at once!”

He’s breathing heavily. He doesn’t understand and can’t imagine why you would be such a stickler on this. Arranged marriages aren’t actually a thing here. Are they? Did you really not think you could leave a situation for any other reason than just not being happy??

“I don’t think you’re being insensitive. I know it sounds crazy.. It IS crazy. But Tom has done nothing but threaten to send her back to Cuba if I ever tried to leave. I could never let her go on her own. She needs me… and in Cuba, I would be divorced and now”— you motion to your pregnant belly, — “a single mother. I would be a disgrace to my family and I can’t do that to her. There has to be another way, but I don’t know what to do.”

—Frankie is thinking. There would be nothing to stop Tom. They could try to get him to have a change of heart. That was the plan… but for someone to be ok with the things he’s done and be complacent in it?

He had no idea that arranged marriages were even a thing. Some of the guys in their division would joke about mail order brides…. Women who (they claimed) would do just about anything for a Green Card, including marry a complete stranger with the promise of a cushy lifestyle. Frankie always thought it was pathetic how other men could be so shameless…

Not surprisingly though, he can recall Tom being in on those jokes… Imagining having someone sweet to warm his bed and cook his meals etc

He never dreamed that Tom would be capable of actually doing something like that. Not that those situations even remotely resembled what your life with Tom was like…. Just the fact that he treated you like property. That someone could feel about a person as though they were merely a possession to be used at their will rather than a living breathing human being.

No— Tom was a monster. And Frankie felt like a fool.

You were right. Talking wasn’t going to change anything.

So maybe they go on this mission and just… leave him there? What if? No… No Frankie wouldn’t think that way. There had to be a way to get you out of this.

—You see him thinking. His brow is furrowed and his hand is rubbing the bottom half of his jaw and the patchy scruff there… His eyes are focused on the coffee table. There was no way out of this. You knew it and Frankie was figuring it out too. He had been so sure in his plan. Santi and Benny had hyped him up that they could get through to Tom. The realization makes him feel sick.

Then suddenly he looks up at you.

His gaze is absolutely piercing as he stares you down. “So what then? There’s nothing we can do? You’re just stuck with this piece of shit you don’t even care about? Stuck with a man who treats you like garbage?”

—You’re looking at the floor now. Tracing the diamond pattern of the carpet to give yourself something to think about.

“I don’t know Frankie. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Sometimes we are forced to do things we really don’t want to do because not everything can be fixed. Not every story has a happy ending.”

“What’s your happy ending?” He says it so quickly and quietly that you almost miss it. When he says your name at the end you look up. “What? What did you say?”

“I asked, well I’m asking you, what would be your happy ending? If you could do things the way you wanted to, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it because it was never a possibility.”

“And if it were? A possibility I mean? What would you do if you didn’t have to worry about Tom.?”

You have no idea honestly…. So you spout off with the first things that pop in your mind, aside from ‘You, you, you!!’ “Um, maybe, travel? Go see the world… make some friends? Maybe get a cat?”

Frankie chuckles at that… he knows Tom’s not a fan of animals in general. Really, he was the fucking worst. His stomach clenches at how this has taken such a shitty turn..

“What about right now? If you could do anything, what would you do?”

You think you know where Frankie’s taking this. At this moment, there is no bright side to your situation. No exit strategy, no get out of jail free card, no nothing. The future looks bleak, options are null and there’s only one thing that you want that you know you’ll never get…. And that’s Frankie.

You look over at him and smile. There could be no future with him. Tom would never allow it. And the thought crushes you. You’ve never been asked what you wanted for yourself if you had the choice and the answer is screaming at you Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!!

You’ve always sacrificed your wants and needs for someone else. You made a promise to take care of your mother and you would do everything you could to keep that promise. But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t have tonight. One little taste of something you’ll never be able to have again.. And tonight, Tom was taken care of.

He was out of town, probably already drunk and you know he fucks whatever he wants to when he feels like it. You’ve known for a long time now. You weren’t the type of person to cheat. You believed in the sanctity of marriage and what your vows meant. You didn’t love Tom, but you were stuck with him. But right now, for the first time in your life, you make the decision to be selfish.

Frankie is still looking at you and his expression is hard to read. He looks lost. The unfairness of the situation is making him angry, but he’s also soft. He wants you. He wants to do everything he’s not supposed to and everything he won’t be able to do again.

You both stand at the same time, and he comes to you. His hands find your cheeks and he asks “what do you want?” in a register of voice you’ve never heard from him before. It sounds desperate. His eyes are on yours and he asks again, softer, “what do you want??”

Your answer is immediate—

“You. Frankie…. I want you.”

“You already have me. You’ve had me since that first day at the diner. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tom won’t let me see you. Who knows when we will get to see each other again?

“I don’t care. I’ll figure out a way. I got you here tonight didn’t I?”

“Yes but it’s been two months Frankie… in another two months I’ll be a mother and we won’t be able to sneak away like this. This isn’t fair!!”

He pulls you forward and puts his lips to your forehead. You lift your head and find his eyes. Your eyes move down slightly and you find his lips and you suck in a breath. He’s so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. He smells like a light soap and a very distinct smell that is just his. The slight tang of gasoline mixed with the vanilla from his truck.

His hand makes its way to your chin and he lifts you to his mouth slowly. His lips are soft, and light just like last time, but he quickly pours himself into you and they become bruising. He breathes you in and immediately starts moving his hands across your arms….

Tears are running down your cheeks and you decide that you’re done fighting this.

Frankie’s mouth opens to speak and you stop him as you forcefully pull his lips back to yours. You begin peppering his mouth with kisses, like you can’t get enough…. Frankie has your hand and is playing lightly with your fingers as he pushes you back slightly. His tongue finds yours in what has turned into a flurry of movements and neither one of you knows where to go with this so you each just kiss every bit of skin you can find on the other. Frankie’s kissing the side of your head as you kiss the patch in his beard that never can fill in completely.

You run your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat onto the floor as he begins to kiss down your neck, and your entire body is on fire.

Hormones or not, the man knows how to use his mouth and every bit of skin he’s touched is illuminated and tingling and you want him everywhere all at once.

Your hands start to grab for his jacket… pulling at his shirt and running your hands up and down his stomach. You’re completely buzzing for him.

You can’t remember there ever being a time that you’ve felt this way. Tom having been your one and only, because, up until now, you held true to your vows even though it was a sham….. Even though you didn’t love him, he was your husband and you tried to make it work in the beginning. Tom was the one who couldn’t care less.

It angers you even more that you really did put so much into your marriage. You did everything you could to be the wife he wanted. You thought that things would change, and that maybe one day you could love him. Instead, he used you and never once

Frankie made you feel Wanted. He wanted you. He wanted you and not just for selfish reasons. He never made you do anything you didn’t want to. He never made you feel guilty, or inadequate, or like you didn’t matter. You always mattered to Frankie. He respected you and respected your choices in all things. If you were to stop, right now, and tell him you didn’t want to do this anymore, he would simply stop. No questions asked. He would never force you, or make you feel like your opinion was stupid. That realization hits you with such intensity that you’re drunk with it knowing that Frankie would always give you that power. Because it was yours.

You stop your movement, while still clinging to frankies’ shirt. You look up to him and your eyes are pleading. His brown eyes are blown wide and he nods - slowly pushing you backward toward the bed. His eyes never leave yours as the back of your legs make contact with the bed and you sit down. Frankie kneels before you… His hands are on your thighs, lightly rubbing up and down the soft material of your leggings. Your hands grab his cheeks and you pull him back to your lips— Tasting him again before you run your hands down his neck and inside the top of his t-shirt. You lightly graze his collar bone and he growls, his hands leaving your thighs to start shrugging off his jacket. Your hands find their way back to his hair and you pull slightly, bringing him forward so he is eye level with your heaving chest —something that has also increased in size since you last saw each other. You’re wearing a thin long sleeve charcoal gray top that has a scooped neckline that covers your growing bust, but would be very easy to move aside.

He leans forward and is kissing your neck again. Going slow, but very obviously making his way down your chest to the top of your shirt, he looks up at you and gives a greedy smile before turning his attention back down. His right hand has also been slowly making its way higher. Fingertips lighting a fire up your side until his large palm is lightly groping your breast —testing the weight in his hand… “God your tits are perfect,” almost to himself, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Frankie!!” You shriek in surprise at his choice of words… You’ve never heard him talk like that before and you feel your cheeks heat while something else churns in your lower tummy. “Sorry! Sorry, It’s uh, been awhile since I’ve.. been with someone. I don’t always think before I talk, especially with you. So, if I say or do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just tell me. Ok?”

“It’s ok,” you giggle at him. You’re not upset in the slightest. “I’m just not used to this. Besides Tom, you’re the only person I will have, um… been with like this.” You’re not sure why, but you can’t stop yourself before saying,

“But you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted like this.”

Frankie gulps and nods, before surging back up and capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. Everything in it tells you that he is going to take care of you. He slowly stands up and leans over you. Prompting you to scoot backward until he can kneel on the bed… His arms are on either side of your head, and you reach up and start running your hands up and down his forearm.

“Look at me,” he says your name and you meet his eyes. “If I do anything you don’t like…. Anything at all, please tell me.”

-“I will Frankie. I trust you.”

At the word trust, he silently loses his mind just a little. He gently caresses your face and pulls you in for another kiss, trailing his hand down your side before following the curve of your belly and resting his palm on top. “It’s not gonna, um, we’re not….” He sighs, not finding the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

“You won’t hurt me Frankie. The baby is perfectly fine. At this stage, sex is completely safe.” You know that Frankie would never hurt you. You needed him to know that it was going to be ok.

“Ok. I’ve never uh, been with someone who was pregnant before.” His face flushes a deep red. “Me neither,” you say. His eyebrows almost reach his hairline and you have no idea where this sudden tenacity is coming from, but you couldn’t help it but to tease him.

“Frankie, it’s ok. I promise. It looks like this is just going to be a first for both of us then.” You smirk at him and he captures your lips again.

His hand starts teasing at the hem of your shirt until slowly going underneath. His hand is so warm and his rough palm feels amazing against your sensitive skin. He reaches up again, grasping your breast and squeezing it lightly, “This ok hermosa?,” Your eyes are closed so you just nod. The feeling is… overwhelming. He continues to massage your tender flesh until he his hand out and tugs down the top of your shirt, revealing your cleavage to his waiting mouth. He kisses the tops of your breasts and drags the fabric down further to expose your bra. It’s nothing special, but it’s functional while also providing comfort. He puts his hand inside, pulling you out completely… exposing your nipple to the cool air, but it is quickly replaced by a damp heat as his mouth completely engulfs the tightening bud.

“Oh my God, Frankie…” Your hands are back in his hair, holding him to you. His tongue starts lapping at you slowly, circling around your now hardened peak. The sensation is so intense, that you feel your arousal gather between your legs, and you shift slightly. Moving your legs together to give yourself some relief.

Frankie takes your movement as a good sign so he pulls you completely into his mouth and sucks, hard. Hard enough that your eyes go up into your head and you moan—the noise coming from you unrecognizable. Frankie just smiles around your nipple, sucking lightly while he takes in your reactions.

After a moment, he feels a little spurt of something in his mouth. He releases your nipple and looks down and you’re leaking. A thin opaque fluid dripping off of your nipple and onto your shirt. You look down when you feel his mouth leave you and you are absolutely horrified to see him staring at your leaking breast. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…..” You go to sit up, but Frankie stops you.

“What are you sorry for Bonita?”

-“This! I, I didn’t even think about it….” the embarrassment makes you frantically attempt to cover yourself.

“Hey, stop. Stop. it’s ok.. It was just a surprise is all. It’s actually kind of sweet.” He smiles at you as he dips his head back down to taste you again.

Your brain completely short circuits at that so you just let your head fall back and savor the feeling.

Frankie moves to the other side and you are actually whimpering from the feeling of his mouth alone. His hand goes back to work and tweaks the nipple of your now neglected breast while his tongue wraps around the other. He can’t get enough of the noises you’re making and he has to shift his lower body to take some pressure off of his rapidly growing erection that is currently pressed tightly against the front of his jeans.

You bring your hand up to card through his hair. Watching him work you over with his tongue. The sight is probably the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen up until this point and you feel another gush between your legs.

Frankie starts to shift his attention lower to just under your breast and makes his way down, kissing your belly with a look of pure joy on his face. His hand makes its way to the top of your leggings. His fingers play with the waistband before dipping underneath slightly. He looks up to you at this. Another question on his face asking if you’re still ok.

You nod quickly and he keeps his eyes on you as his fingers slowly reach underneath the thin fabric. His fingers lightly move across your hip bone, moving inward. He’s still looking at you when his fingers reach your center only to find your underwear completely soaked through. He has yet to touch you skin to skin, but you’re squirming and desperate for him to add even just a hint more pressure to your aching center. Your hand reaches down on top of his, adding to the pressure you so desperately need. “Shhhhhhh… shhhhhhhh… I’ve got you….”

-“Frankie??” You’re pleading with him to touch you as he moves his face back up to yours. He’s still looking at you as his touch increases, gauging your reaction. The more pressure he adds, the more his mouth opens, ready to swallow your moans as soon as they leave you.

You cry out when he finally pushes his middle finger up against your clothed clit and rubs lightly. Fuck, Tom never gave a shit about your needs when it came to sex. Maybe in the beginning, but rarely. You were always left to take care of it yourself after he passed out. Most of the time you wouldn’t even bother. But this is Frankie… so you let the thought of Tom fall away from your mind and focus solely on him and how he is making you feel.

You’re breathing increases and Frankie removes his hand to caress your cheek again. He laughs lightly at your frustration, your pleas— “No no no… Frankie please, please don’t stop…” make him smile up at you.

He takes his finger and pushes it up against your lips to shush you. “Let me take care of you bonita. I’ve got you ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

And at that, Frankie shifts to his knees and makes his way down your body. Kissing down between your breasts, over your shirt to your stomach, to just above the waistband of your leggings. Looking back up as he hooks his fingers into them and pulls down. He leaves your underwear in place —the light pink cotton darkened by your arousal. He rolls the thin material down and slowly takes off your shoes one by one as he removes your leggings completely.

Once your legs are free, he wedges himself between them, kissing up the inside of your thighs starting at your knee. He slowly makes his way up from your right leg, across the top of your underwear and then back down your left. Every touch of his lips on your skin has your hips arching up of their own accord.

“So impatient, Querida.” He tsks. “Trust me, I’m going to savor every bit of you.” You’re dizzy with his words so you just nod and lay back. You do trust him, so you let him take control and try to slow your breathing.

Frankie reaches up and laces his fingers with yours, holding you in place as he finally, buries his face between your legs. He breathes in deeply, and lets out a shaking moan. “God, you smell so fucking good….” the last word ending with a whine. He still holds your hand, but uses his other to gently pull your underwear up between his fingers. Pulling it tightly up against your swollen clit a few times, before moving it completely to the side, exposing you to his hungry mouth.

Frankie said he was going to savor you and he meant it. He is going so painfully slowly, when all you want is for him to put your clit in his mouth. Instead, he is breathing you in, rubbing the scruff of his cheeks against you. The feeling of his facial hair against your over-sensitive skin makes you almost growl.

He’s teasing you, but only to add to the anticipation of what is to come.

Finally, finally his tongue peeks out of his mouth and lightly runs up your soaked seam, from your dripping entrance to your clit. “Oh my GOD….Frankie???” Your pleas turn into whispered praises.. “Francisco, oh… mierda. Si…”

You let out a string of nonsense in English and Spanish and Frankie just chuckles to himself as he continues. Your accent becomes thicker as you lose yourself, that you honestly don’t even realize you’re saying anything. Flattening out his tongue, he gently lays it on your clit and starts moving his head in a circular motion. Dipping down every so often, bringing more of your arousal up to your peak.

Your pussy has him feeling drunk. Your sweet musky taste, like water to his parched mouth. He drinks you in, your pussy already so fucking wet, his head spins with it. He can’t believe he’s getting to taste you like this. He’s known how he’s felt about you for a long time, but to actually be here? With your fucking pussy in his mouth? Fuck, he thinks he could come just from the thought.

Frankie kisses up your seam slowly, kissing every inch and finally leaving a kiss on your clit before sitting back and looking up at your face. You look every bit the mess that you sounded like… Your forehead is damp, your hair sticking to the side of your face. You’re looking at him now with a confused look… Why did you stop? sitting on your lips. —He just smiles and brings himself forward, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He pulls away quickly and moves back down, hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear and ripping them down your legs.

He takes your right leg and pushes it up, bending your knee so your foot is flat on the bed.

He then takes your other leg and hitches it over his shoulder. You settle your foot on his back, pulling him closer to you. He immediately takes his fingers and makes a V shape, running it from your clit all the way down, squishing your lips together and back up again. He takes a moment and sucks your clit into his mouth at the top of the V of his fingers. You could almost cry at how good it feels.

“More Frankie, please, please…..” You need to feel something inside you… This entire time, Frankie hasn’t breached your entrance, even with his tongue and you’re getting desperate.

He knows what he’s doing, but he wants to hear you tell him. “What do you need, querida? Tell me what you need.”

“Need to feel you. Need you inside me, Frankie please.

“Yes ma’am..” And at that you feel him drag his index finger from the top of your clit, down, down, down until gently pushing into your weeping sex.

“Oh, oh fuck.” Your words come out in a gasp as he resumes his place at your clit, wrapping his lips around it while slowly pushing in and out of you. You are wrapped so tightly around his finger, that he’s hesitant to add another, but your moans of more, more have him lightly testing the addition of another.

The feeling of his mouth on you while simultaneously fucking his fingers into your throbbing core has you almost flailing on the bed. Your hands spread wide on either side of you, your leg wrapping around Frankie’s head, you worry that you're going to hurt him, but he’s humming encouragingly into your pussy so you take it as a sign he’s ok. Finding his head with your hands, you grip his hair and slowly move him up and down. Frankie is just as affected by the action as you are.. “Fuck yes baby, use me,” comes his garbled reply.

If you weren’t so close to going over the edge, his words would have you blushing like a virgin. But if anything, right now it only spurs you on and you shudder against him.

Frankie can tell you’re close, just by your whimpers and how you’re practically grinding his face into you. He curls his fingers up and focuses on the little spongy area there, while sucking your clit into his mouth again, using the flat of his tongue to rub side to side. Your grip on his hair tightens to the point of actual pain, but he loves it - loves knowing that it's his mouth and his fingers that are doing this to you. You arch up and your orgasm hits you hard… Flooding Frankie’s mouth with your slick and almost crying at the intense feeling. Frankie works you through it. Slowly moving his fingers in and out as you come down. His tongue is barely there, but still lapping at you, the feeling adding to the aftershocks and you are shaking with it.

When the clenching slows, he slowly withdraws his fingers. He holds them up above you so you can see your slick dripping as he spreads them in the air. Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and moans as he sucks them clean.

Frankie scoots up, coming to your side and running his hand over your belly lightly. You turn to him and he’s looking down at you, “that ok hermosa? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You laugh at that, because you’re sure you may have actually ripped out some of his hair. “No Frankie, you didn’t hurt me. That was… mmmmm..” He kisses you and you hum lightly into his mouth. You’re completely sated for the moment, but his kisses are quickly becoming more frantic.

The heat in your lower belly begins to stir and your hands start to wander. Reaching down you just barely lift his shirt, grazing the soft skin of his stomach. You’re still technically clothed from the waist up, but so far the only thing Frankie has taken off is his jacket. You grab the hem and lift up. Frankie helps you by sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is bare, save for a little patch of hair in the center of his chest and a line of hair leading underneath his navel down to his jeans. He leans back down and kisses you again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth and you let it.

Frankie’s hand trails up and down your sides, reaching down and grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulls you toward him and brings your leg over his hip. He starts to walk his fingers down the back of your thigh, then brings it back up to play with the swollen lips of your pussy from behind.

He swallows your gasp and moans into your mouth, still toying with your puffy lips.

You start to kiss down his cheek, down to his jaw and behind his ear, nibbling on his earlobe a little bit, which gets you a growl of pleasure out of him. He leaves your backside, opting to grip your thigh for leverage as he lets you take control. You slowly move down his throat until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder where you lightly suck, leaving behind a couple of bright red spots that you secretly hope he’s able to see tomorrow.

You run your lips down to his collarbone and you take your time there. Licking up and around, before kissing down the hollow of his throat. Frankie is still gripping your leg, tightening his hold and squeezing fingerprints into your thigh with every pass of your tongue. His breathing has increased and when you look up at him, his eyes are on you. His pupils are blown wide and his cock is throbbing, but he wants to see you like this. He wants to see you navigate his body and see what you do with it, without interference.

You take a moment to reach up and kiss his mouth again. His eyes close immediately and he just breathes you in. Your scent is everywhere. In the air, in his nose, on his tongue and subsequently yours. He nips your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth, before you pull away and tap his nose with the tip of your finger… He tries to bite it, but you quickly pull away only to slowly move it down to his chest. You toy with the soft patch of hair there before lightly drawing lines across him, moving to circle a nipple, then the other. Now that gets a reaction, and his whole body shudders as goosebumps cover his chest. You lightly scrape your nail across his sensitive skin, back to his left nipple before replacing your finger with your mouth, flicking it with your tongue and Frankie groans “fuck, beautiful…. You’re killing me..”

—You just wink at him before blowing slightly, making the pebbled flesh tighten to a hard peak. Frankie huffs a shaky breath, and you are enjoying his reactions just as much as performing the acts themselves. You want to see what else you can pull out of him, so you kiss across his chest and pull his other nipple into your mouth, giving it the same attention as the first. Slowly circling with your tongue and giving it a quick kiss at the tip. His hands move to your hair and lightly comb through it with his fingers. He loves feeling you like this — knowing you’re in control and he’s just along for the ride.

You continue to kiss down his abdomen, his tummy soft, and you start rubbing your nose through the light dusting of hair there before you follow the trail down to the top of his jeans. Your hands have also started their own exploration; running up and down his thighs, moving up to his side and watching his abdomen shake with how sensitive the skin there is. You make a mental note to see how ticklish he is, should you get the chance to be this close to him again. For now though, you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You scoot down slightly, and begin trying to work the button of his jeans with your fingers before his hands stop you. Confusion showing on your face as you look up to him; “you don’t have to do this querida..”

—You quickly reach up and put your finger to his lips, “Frankie, shhhhhhh…. I want to do this. I want to make you feel good”. -You were going to kill him with just your words alone. You had no idea how they affected him.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me Frankie? Can I taste you?” — He’s a fucking goner… Frankie is sure he just fucking died and went to Heaven and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

All he does is nod with his mouth slack jawed and his cock begging for attention just underneath your hands.

You slowly start working the button of his jeans, lightly fingering the line of his zipper with your index finger all the way down between his legs —teasing him, purposely trying to torture him, but in the best possible way.

You walk your fingers back up the now very prominent outline of his length, to get to the zipper and slowly unzip him the rest of the way. You do to him what he did to you and you pull his jeans down just a little bit, running your hand over his boxers, but just barely. Lightly running your fingertips from the base of his clothed cock, up to the tip, you scratch the head ever so gently and Frankie actually gasps for air at the feeling. “Oh fuck!”

You feel wetness at the tip and see a small wet spot. Without thinking about it, you reach over and flick your tongue over the top, tasting the salty precum and moaning at the warmth radiating through his boxers.

—Almost instantly Frankie’s hands are in your hair, pulling it back slightly and tucking a stray piece behind your ear as your tongue continues to lick at him. Your saliva only adding to the growing wet patch in the fabric. His breathing quickens and his body is almost shaking.. you finally decide to show him some mercy by ripping down the waistband of his boxers and jeans and enveloping his cock in your wet mouth without warning.

“Ohhhh shit.”

“Shit. shit!! Oh my God baby, fuck… your mouth… fuck, you’re so pretty. Pretty fucking mouth….” — He’s sputtering complete nonsense… half sentences full of praise and absolute filth.. You love it—

You slowly lap at the underside of his cock, making your way down to the base and back up again. There’s another drop of precum at the tip and you want to taste it, but instead you grip him in hand and rub the tip with your thumb— the slick making your swipes smooth back and forth. Now you come up and taste him. His musky scent has your mouth watering, saliva pooling under your tongue. You let it drip from your tongue onto his tip and stroke up and down with your hand. “Holy shit….” comes Frankie’s gravelly voice, unaware that he was still watching you. But you basically spitting on his cock has Frankie looking absolutely feral.. His pupils are black yet again and you think ‘how many times can they do that before they pop out of his head??’

“Was that alright?”

All he does is nod and you smirk up at him before slowly diving back down onto his cock -keeping eye contact the entire time. His mouth drops open, but his eyes never leave yours, his cock like steel in your hand.

You keep up the pace, bobbing up and down slowly, stopping occasionally and licking at the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock that makes his eyes squeeze shut and he moans out curses in Spanish almost every time.

—Your left hand trails up his leg and reaches inward, grazing over the soft skin of his inner thigh before reaching his balls, your touch pulling a hoarse groan and more curses from Frankie. Your right hand is now pumping the base of him that you can’t fit into your mouth while you continue sucking and kissing at his tip.. The words coming out him now make you hum to spur him on. No real train of thought, just praises and whatever is coming into his head at the moment;

—“Fuck…. Fuck baby… Could live with your mouth on me, God…. can’t fucking wait to feel you. Fuck… Want you to ride me… wanna watch your perfect tits bounce while I fuck you…” The words leave his mouth in such a rush, that you’re not sure if he’s truly talking to you or if he’s just thinking out loud. His eyes are still closed and his breathing has increased. You could probably finish him with not much more effort, but you’ve been aching to feel his cock inside of you, so you slow your movements.

Frankie checks in at the sudden shift in speed. You pull your mouth off of him and nod slowly. You lean forward and kiss him, continuing to pump him with your hand. You slowly maneuver your body over him —as easily as you can with your belly at its current size anyway— and position yourself above his cock. The tip red and swollen, weeping precum from how close you had gotten him with your mouth. Frankie finally realizes what’s happening and his eyes shoot open and find your face. “I… are you sure?”

“I’m sure Frankie. I want to feel you.”

—“Come ‘ere…” Frankie surges up and captures your lips. You use the movement to help steady you as you line him up with your entrance. You breathe out slowly into his mouth and you both moan loudly as you sink yourself down onto him. You go slow, to allow yourself time to adjust to his size. Tom hadn’t been small, but Frankie is definitely thicker and you want to savor the feeling of being stretched out by him.

Frankie’s hands are on your waist now, eyes closed and just feeling you as you slowly pull him in all the way until you feel his coarse hairs against your clit. “Oh my… Oh my God Frankie…. Oh…. Fuck.” You start to move, rocking your hips slowly in a circular motion.

—“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. I’m, I'm not gonna last…. fuck..”

Your hips move faster, finding a back and forth rhythm as your hands land on Frankie’s chest… nails scraping down, grabbing for purchase to try to keep your body upright.

His hands on your waist are almost bruising now with how tightly he’s gripping you… moving you, grinding himself into you….

His right hand winds around to your back and he almost sits up, burying his face in your breasts. Your back is damp with sweat, but he holds tightly… putting his right hand behind him on the bed to prop himself up. You hold his head to you and kiss his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving with him. This angle has him hitting so deep inside you, your breathing is coming in broken moans and your toes are curling. You’re coming almost instantly when you feel him reach between you, finding your clit and rubbing in smooth circles with his fingers. His hips stuttering, trying to find his own release, but wanting you to come again first. There are tears running down your cheeks from the sheer intensity and you cry out. Your walls are contracting around him so hard that it’s only seconds before he’s following you… painting the inside of your pussy with his warm come and panting nonsense into your mouth as you both try to even out your breathing. He’s kissing you again, but slowly… toying with your tongue languidly as he comes back down to earth. His cock softens inside you, and you just stay. Neither one of you ready to pull apart just yet.

—Frankie starts to rub his face against your breasts, pausing to kiss between them. He takes a nipple into his mouth and just holds it there.. his tongue slowly lapping up what you’re sure has been leaking since you started earlier.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, trailing to the back of his neck and scratching lightly at his scalp. His eyes stay closed and he hums, enjoying the feeling. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relaxed in his life… never more at peace than just holding you like this.

—He never wants to let go.

Before long though, you feel him start to tense slightly, but he’s made no move to break apart from you. You think the high has begun to wear off and the gravity of your situation is hitting him…. As it is you.

Where do you go from here? There’s no plan in place… There’s no straight path from here, that brings you back together again. You know that once you leave this space, leave Him, that there’s no telling when or if you’ll get to see him again. You pull him tighter to your chest as the realization yet again washes over you. New tears fall freely down your cheeks and you just hold onto him. Frankie… who has done so much for you, who has made you feel more like a real person in the short months you’ve known him than you’ve felt in your entire life.

—You pray for an answer, a solution that you desperately hope ends with you being free to be with the other.

You feel Frankie lean down and kiss the top of your belly. The act so endearing to you; What you miss though, is Frankie whispering a prayer of his own. A prayer to keep you safe and a promise that he would find a way to be with you again. Both of you.

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @heythere-mel @hnt-escape @harriedandharassed @just-here-for-the-moment @something-tofightfor @readingiskeepingmegoing @bitchwitch1981 @sunnysidekit @littlemisspascal @queridopascal-main @dashavau @imaswellkid @quica-quica-quica @mymo-n @wildemaven @pastelnap @tanzthompson @jb2856

A/N: There are definitely some flow issues with this one, but I kept getting stuck. Hopefully it wasn’t too awful to get through, but I appreciate any and all feedback, just be kind. I also wouldn’t mind an extra beta if anyone is interested, on top of my girl @just-here-for-the-moment who’s been with me through this since the beginning. Thank you all!

#frankie x reader #frankie x you #frankie x female reader #frankie x f!reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #amaryllis #amaryllis chapter 6

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Who is the Sexiest Fictional Podcast Character?

After receiving 219 submissions for 152 characters from 52 podcasts and a round of preliminaries, we have our brackets!*

*20 characters from the podcast Welcome to Night Vale will appear later in a Night Vale-only bracket.

Round 1:

Scripted Bracket

Isabel Lovelace (Wolf 359) vs Cyrille (5 Minuten Harry Podcast)

Krejjh (The Strange Case of Starship Iris) vs Lady Ethel Mallory (Hello From The Hallowoods)

Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs The Witch Queen A.K.A. Daughter Dooley (Old Gods of Appalachia

Warren Kepler (Wolf 359) vs Ashley "Ash" Ramis (Georgie Romero is Done For)

Brutus Feels (Kane and Feels) vs Shan (SPINES)

Sir Caroline (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs The Dragon Narrator (Unseen)

Alé (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs Hester/The Narrator (Within The Wires: Season 1)

Thistle/The Woman (Alice Isn't Dead) vs Sam Bailey (The Sheridan Tapes)

Peter Nureyev (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Butt (Pounded In The Butt By My Own Podcast: Episode 1)

Alice (Alice Isn't Dead) vs Diggory Graves (Hello From the Hallowoods)

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) vs Ryan Dallas (EOS 10)

Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives) vs Galileo (Let's Make A Music)

Lucifer Kane (Kane and Feels) vs Gin (Story Break: Heaven Heist)

Amaryllis of Exile (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs Mabel Martin (Mabel)

Pilot Pereya (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Hester Oleta (Within The Wires: Season 1)

Strelitzia (Additional Postage Required) vs Harold "HBD" Bastion Demetrius (The Soft-Boiled Detective)

Akmazian (EOS 10) vs Everyone from The Strange Case of Starship Iris

Damien (The Bright Sessions) vs Mari Datuin (Hi Nay)

Count Dracula (Re: Dracule) vs Static Man (Archive 81)

Dragana Vukovic (The White Vault) vs Elias Bouchard (The Magnus Archives)

Agnes Montague (The Magnus Archives) vs Vega Rex (Vega: A Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast!)

Mina Murray (Re: Dracula) vs Nicholas Waters (Archive 81)

Mark Bryant (The Bright Sessions) vs Laura (Hi Nay)

Georgie Crusoe (Wooden Overcoats) vs Kate Burnham (The Bridge)

Keisha (Alice Isn't Dead) vs SAYER (SAYER)

Chance Sequoyah (The Penumbra Podcast) vs Yaretzi (Hello From The Hallowoods)

Buddy Aurinko (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Dane (Dreamboy)

Sadie Doyle (Thrilling Adventure Hour: Beyond Belief) vs Hera (Wolf 359)

Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) vs The CryptoNaturalist (The CryptoNaturalist)

Rita (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Lou (Archive 81)

Dr. Joan Bright (The Bright Sessions) vs Ashvin Beeharee (Hi Nay)

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359) vs Clara Page (Who is Aldrich Kemp)

Unscripted Bracket

Pickman (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle) vs The Shadow Man ('Til Death Do Us Blart)

Beacon (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty vs Glenn Close (Dungeons and Daddies)

Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Grand Magnificent (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Taako (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Bathin (Stella Firma)

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Sago Glegg (Rotating Heroes: Arc 6)

Sans Undertale (Interstitial: Our Hearts Intertwined: Authority) vs M. Leopold Duvall (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Duck Newton (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Chine (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Tryst Valentine (Campaign: Star Wars) vs Mini Smithson (Chapter and Multiverse: Masks)

Gable (Campaign: Skyjacks) vs Hector Hu (Friends at the Table: Bluff City)

Michael (The Adventure Zone: Dust) vs Nicky Close (Dungeons and Daddies

Zolf Smith (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Fourteen Fifteen (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Coco Cashmere (Hey Riddle Riddle) vs Trexel Geistman (Stella Firma)

Killian Fangbattle (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Henrietta Salm (Pest Control: Fate)

Kalvin Brnine (Friends at the Table: PALISADE) vs Lye "Lyke" Lichen (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Indrid Cold (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Rigour (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Chunt (Hello From The Magic Tavern) vs Suvirin Kedberiket (Worlds Beyond Number: The Wizard, The Witch, and the Wild One)

Tender Sky (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage) vs Pox (NeoScum)

The Firbolg (The Adventure Zone: Graduation) vs Ron Stampler (Dungeons and Daddies)

Azu (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Hadrian (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia) vs Caspian (Just Roll With It: Riptide)

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea) vs Jens Lyndelle (Not Another D&D Podcast: Trinvyvale)

Perennial (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN and PALISADE) vs Throndir (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Nadiya Jones (The Adventure Zone: Commitment) vs Ibex (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Cassander Timaeus Berenice (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight) vs Tech Wizard (NeoScum)

Vermillion "Milli" Blue (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN) vs Dak Rambo (NeoScum)

Rainer (The Adventure Zone: Graduation) vs Mercedes Oak-Garcia (Dungeons and Daddies)

Thisbe (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN and PALISADE) vs Echo Reverie (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Kravitz (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Henry Hogfish (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Aubrey Little (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Glenfyr "Glen" Gladewyn (Not Another D&D Podcast

Cel Sidebottom (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Adelaide Tristé (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Kardala (The Adventure Zone: Commitment) vs Jacqui Green (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Hella Varal (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron) vs (Former) Confessor Bartholomew Lamentations (The Unexplored Places: Ruin's Gate)

#Round 1 #podcasts #Tumblr Bracket

[amara-among-the-stars]

Oh heyyy. Chapter 5 of dont you go is here after 86 million years :)) read on A03 or below! Dont forger to reblog and like!

In the morning Amaryllis snuck away to shower and get changed. She ended up helping Aether and Ifrit with breakfast as Dew made coffee and tea. Soon enough the rest of the pack came tumbling into the kitchen. Amara was greeting by Mountain as the giant wrapped his arms around their waist and pulled them close to his body so he could nuzzle at her neck.

“Ew gross. Affection.” Dew teased, lightly bumping the pair with his tail.

“Dew shut the hell up. We all know you like cuddling.” Sunshine said, pointing a fork full of bacon towards the resident gremlin. Dew grinned and snatched a piece, popping it into his mouth as he sat down.

“I'm allowed to cuddle and be cute. Have you seen me? My face is fucking adorable.” Dewdrop retorted. Amara huffed as she sat down, Mountain next to her as the giant looked content even if he was a bit dazed and had a face full of lipstick marks all over his cheek.

“You’re adorable when you’re not speaking and saying Ew affection.” Amara teased. Dew stuck his tongue out at the blue haired ghoulette and she flipped him off. As Aether walked in and sat down, Dew dramatically draped himself over the quint and exhaled loudly.

“Aether! My favorite quinny. Sunshine and Amaryllis are bullying me! Can you believe it!” Dew exclaimed. Aether chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Yes I can believe it. You probably deserve it.” Aether snorted out. Dew groaned and sat dramatically on the chair next to Aether.

“I'm reporting you to Alpha for being dicks!” Dew yelled, snatching some more food.

“I have immunity. Alpha’s my dad.” Amara giggled out, stealing a piece of fruit from Mountain’s plate. Her partner playfully tugged on her hair for the stolen fruit as Dew face planted on the table.

“I hate it here.” Dew mumbled. Aether gave him a sympathetic pat.

“Poor you. Would you like a blowjob for your troubles?” Aether asked. Dew perked up immediately and nodded, tail wagging happily.

“Yes cmon. Sorry we're leaving you losers.” Dew chirped and dragged Aether away. The table chuckled and finished breakfast; Amaryllis and Mountain were doing the dishes when Mountain asked if Amaryllis wanted to go out on a date tonight.

“Of course! I’d love to!” Amara exclaimed. Mountain grinned, he was excited to finally be able to have alone time with Amaryllis.

“Great, 6 tonight? Wear something warm yet cute.” Mountain directed, pulling her into a quick kiss. Amaryllis giggled, excited to spend time with her earth ghoul. Sunshine and Cirrus said they’d help her with clothes and make up after their chores were done. Amara nodded, scampering off to go help Primo with some things and then Copia with some things as well.

Primo let her take some flowers, laughing to himself when Mountain would later come in to help and ask for flowers as well.

“Ghouls in love... They remind me of my Rosie. Oh how I miss her..” Primo whispered to himself, watching the tall ghoul taking his time to pick out the perfect flowers. Finally, it was time to get ready for everything. Cumulus had picked out a cute pair of ripped jeans and a sparkly black crop.

“That way, if you get cold Mountain will offer his sweater since we know that ghoul always wears one.” Cumulus giggled, curling Amaryllis’ hair.

“You have a point Cu,” Amara chirped out, closing her eyes as Sunshine finished her makeup.

“Alright Tigerlily. All done! You better rock his pants off tonight.” Sunshine exclaimed. Amaryllis blushed and ducked her head down.

“I'll try.” The fire ghoulette replied shyly. She grabbed the flowers from where she set them in a vase as she heard someone knocking on the door. Amaryllis excitedly opened it to see Mountain leaning against the doorway with her favorite flowers in hand and dressed casually but still nicely. Seeing as they both had each other’s favorite flowers they both laughed and Mountain ducked down to kiss Amara on the lips.

“I see we had the same idea of getting flowers from Primo.” Mountain teased as they made their way out of the dens.

“We did. Great minds think alike! Where are we going tonight by the way?” Amaryllis asked, swinging their conjoined hands lightly. Mountain let out a small hum before responding with “It’s a surprise my darling flower.” causing Amaryllis to pout.

“Oh c'mon! The worst!” She laughed. Amaryllis couldn’t wait to see what Mountain had planned.

#the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #aether ghoul #the band ghost fanfiction #amaryllis ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette

[only-lonely-stars]

A Bride for the Prince (Chapter 6 - Hide and Seek)

[Prologue] // [Chapter 5 of 9] // [Chapter 6 of 9 - you are here!] // [Chapter 7 of 9] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of the @ninjago-fairy-tale-au!

Summary:

Once upon a time, there lived a faithful and hardworking girl named Pixal Borg, who worked every day to satisfy her demanding stepmother. For years, she cleaned and cooked, giving no argument, until the day came when she met the prince. A Pixane Cinderella retelling.

Chapter summary:

The third day of the festival arrives, and Zane asks an important question.

On the third day of the festival, Pixal acted as she had the two days prior, her family none the wiser. The previous night, she had concocted a plan for her day, and she was determined to see it through.

As first order of business, she helped her stepmother and sisters prepare for the festival and saw them off. Columbine and Begonia spat yet more biting remarks about Pixal and how they were to catch the prince's eye, but Pixal shrugged them off. Unbeknownst to them, they meant nothing to her; the prince could not care less.

As they were about to leave, Amaryllis stopped Pixal in her tracks just as she was about to turn and go back to her basement room.

"Pixal, wait."

"Yes, Stepmother?" Pixal asked, dread roiling in her stomach as her traitorous mind told her every way Amaryllis could have learned her secret.

"I want you to be studious in your cleaning today," Amaryllis said. "Prince Zane may show interest in one of your stepsisters yet today, and should that be the case, I will not be shamed by a dirty home."

Pixal faltered for a moment. "I understand."

"See to it that the estate is spotless!" her stepmother continued. "I have not missed how things have deteriorated in my absence. Scrub until even the floors shine."

"I will," Pixal responded, the lie sitting on her tongue with its coppery taste. "Enjoy the festival."

"We will," her stepmother retorted. Then Amaryllis turned and left, entering her carriage and settling herself between her bickering daughters. Within mere minutes, Pixal was alone once again, and the next part of her day's plan could begin.

For her second task, Pixal pilfered another forgotten gown from one of her sisters' closets and donned it. This gown was unlike either previous one, having more fabric and detailing than either, and it flattered her figure such that she scarcely recognized her reflection.

The gown was a pale blue, embroidered with white and green thread in an intricate pattern on the skirt and sleeve hems. Pixal twirled in front of the mirror, watching the hem as it swirled and turned. Unlike the others, this dress was quite low-necked, yet not so low as to be uncomfortable nor too revealing– completely ladylike in all aspects, but so lovely that Pixal scarcely believed either sister could discard it. However, that worked to her benefit, so she thanked them for it. After she was satisfied with her choice, she donned her snowflake necklace and did her hair, making her appearance into that of a proper lady.

There was but one final addition to her person. It was a blue scarf the color of ice, made of a gauzy fabric, which Pixal set in her pocket for later use. It had belonged to her mother, Astrid, and she had almost forgotten about it after Begonia had snatched it for herself when they were children. Now, however, she would be taking it back.

As the third and final step in her plan, she needed to transport herself to the festival. Pixal took her spellbook and another bunch of herbs and prepared her spell, creating the plume of sparkling smoke with which she had become so familiar. She stepped in without reserve, boldly facing the smoke as it enveloped her, but then stopped short on the other side.

Despite everything being identical to the previous day, at least to her knowledge, Pixal was nowhere near the pavilion where she had found herself the previous two days. Instead, she was by the jousting arena, across the festival grounds. While the location was not as it had been the previous two days, it would be workable.

A smile made its presence known on her face as she reasoned through the matter. If things progressed today as they did the previous two, then this was the most convenient place to be when she returned, since she could stay to watch the tournament. Perhaps she would be able to watch the evening jousting and see the prince there! Then she could give him a favour and somehow be able to watch him joust with it, showing it off to all those who attended.

Once she realized how her thoughts had turned, embarrassment filled her. The prince was not a quarry for her to pursue, and she knew that very well. She had to remember that he was simply someone with whom to share the last day of the festival. She would not delude herself into thinking that she could somehow cultivate a real relationship with him, nor develop feelings. That would end poorly and painfully. As such, she would not allow herself to hurt either of them in such a manner.

After hiding the spellbook, Pixal wondered what she should do next. It was most logical for her to return to the pavilion where she had met Prince Zane both days prior, to continue the pattern. It was a fair walk from the arena, although manageable, and would not be a hardship. By all reasonable estimation, she would have to travel quickly if she were to get there as early as she had been the day prior, so she did not delay in beginning her trek.

As she had suspected, the time it took Pixal to walk to the pavilion was long enough to throw off her timing from the prior day. When she reached it, however, she found it just as it had been the two previous days, filled with whirling colors and people. Though she found it less tempting, it was nevertheless still enticing, and she considered joining the dancers for a few moments. She searched the crowd and saw no sign of the fair-haired prince, and her heart sank.

Pixal looked everywhere in the nearby area, but did not see Zane. Her heart sank the longer she searched, but she did not allow it to discourage her, and searched more carefully. A little while later and after seeing her distress, an organizer for the festival came up to her and cleared her throat.

"Pardon me, young lady. Are you looking for someone?" the woman asked, her gravelly voice sounding aged.

Pixal turned in surprise, then nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Might I be of some assistance?" the woman asked, silver hair close to falling in her face as she smiled.

"Perhaps." Pixal smiled self-consciously and looked down, a light blush dusting her cheeks. "I fear you would judge me for my answer."

"Nonsense, dearie. Tell me about your trouble."

"Very well." Pixal looked up to meet the woman's gaze. "I'm looking for his Highness, Prince Zane. I had the pleasure of meeting him the previous two days, but not today, and I expected to find him here."

The woman nodded knowingly. "Of course. Every marriageable lady here seeks to meet him– that is understandable."

"It isn't like that!" Pixal protested, raising her hands. "I simply wish to talk to him– I know he would never consider me, nor I him."

The woman hummed in contemplation. "Ah, very well. I can help you, young lady, but you must help me first."

"What kind of help do you require?" Pixal asked. "I can do whatever you need."

The woman beckoned her near. "Come with me, and I will tell you. If you are so considerate of the prince, then I'm sure you will be very happy to help me with this task…"

-----

On the third day of the festival, Prince Zane found himself anxious as he waited for the day to begin, unable to focus due to his preoccupation.

He woke early in the morning, fretting about how best to present himself. He washed himself in freezing water, dressed, and visited the memorial to his brother. The sun was barely risen, but he left the castle anyway, eager to supervise and perfect everything before the time came for him to meet up with Lady Pansy.

For several hours, Zane burned the time he had by working, hoping to ease his nerves. Despite everything that would assuage him, he found himself adrift on a sea of anxiety, so incredibly unlike himself. He tried to reason through it, and for a little while it worked, but only so long as he did not stop to think about Pansy.

When the time came, Zane rushed to the pavilion, although doing his utmost not to appear too quick to arrive. His heart beat loudly in his chest, louder with every step, every breath feeling colder even as he grew warmer and warmer.

When he arrived, however, Pansy was not there.

Concern worked its way into the prince's mind as he searched, looking into the crowd of dancers as he tried to catch a glimpse of her fair hair. Where was Lady Pansy? From what he could tell, it was not her habit to be tardy.

Perhaps he had come too early. They had not set a time to meet, and he had been awake since before dawn.

The city clock tower struck ten, discarding that idea. It was not too early, for this what when they had met the day before. Still, he did not find her.

After a little while of searching, Zane went to explore the near area, hoping to spot her. As he went farther from the pavilion, the sound of the music faded, replaced with speech and children's laughter, distracting yet not unpleasant. The latter grew louder as he walked, and Zane stopped to look at its source.

A hundred feet from him, a crowd of children laughed and cheered, having been playing games. They crowded around each other and pushed toward several adults who supervised. These adults were giving them treats- candied fruit, toys, flowers and more.

As Zane watched, he smiled. Then, his heart began to race, as he noticed one of the adults had the fairest hair he'd seen that day. The woman turned to speak to some children in his direction, and Zane knew immediately that it was Lady Pansy. She smiled and spoke to the children, giving them treats and paying compliments that sent them into happy peals of laughter. When her basket of gifts was empty, she put it aside and spoke to an old woman with gray hair, who dismissed her.

Pansy turned, but then paused as she caught sight of Zane. She smiled, and Zane had to smile back. Cautious of the children under foot, he approached her, and when he reached her, he kissed her hand.

"Lady Pansy. I was wondering where I might find you," he greeted.

She smiled, embarrassed. "My apologies, your Highness. I did not intend to make the task difficult for you."

"It was no issue for me," he replied, already putting his trouble finding her behind himself in favor of the current moment. "You are a lover of children?"

"I am. They have such potential," Pixal replied, glancing at the children playing with a smile.

"They do." Zane smiled back. "I take it that you volunteered to help?"

"Madame Mystake asked for my help, and I could not say no." Zane's smile made Pixal feel lighter than air, and she did her best to hide just how happy it made her feel. "Do you love children, too?"

"I do, though I fear I am not as capable with them as you are, my lady."

"Perhaps so, perhaps not." Pixal looked off into the distance, in the direction of the dancing pavilion. The sun reflected off her snowflake necklace, and its appearance brought a smile to Zane's lips. "There have been many things during this festival that I am not accustomed to."

"The same is true for me. A festival of this magnitude is rare." He offered his arm. "Perhaps, if I might be so bold, you would accompany me for its final day?"

"I would be honored, Prince Zane," Pixal said, taking it.

"You may call me by my given name if it makes you comfortable, Lady Pansy."

"You wish for me to call you such?"

"Indeed."

"Then you may call me by mine, Zane."

The two shared a smile. "Very well, Pansy." With that, the two set off.

-----

For several hours, the two walked and talked, just as they had the previous two days. They spoke of many things, not the least of which family and love, although never in such terms as toward the other. Throughout the day, they spoke of all lovely things, and shared many anecdotes from their lives. Questions were frequent, and answers were entertaining. However, Pixal felt as though she could not truly share some things, for shame of her true position in her household, so she carefully told her stories as to not betray her status.

Despite Pixal's carefulness with her stories, however, she found herself ever closer to the prince. For the majority of their time together, they walked arm in arm or side by side- if not those, then they sat right next to each other, no farther than a few feet apart. Their tendency toward connection was unmistakable.

As their day passed, Zane took mental note of the qualities he saw in Lady Pansy. She was reserved, yet had interesting opinions and did not hesitate to speak her mind. She was clever and wise, yet did not boast in herself. She was hardworking, yet gentle, and though strong, not brash. In every aspect, he saw the most remarkable things, and in such fell deeper into admiration for her.

As the sun reached its zenith, high above the earth, Zane knew it was time to ask her one of the most utilitarian of his questions. Thus, as they sat together underneath a maple, he brushed her hand with his to catch her attention.

At the touch, Pixal turned to look at him. He seemed anxious to some degree, though she could not fathom why.

"Pansy," he began, his usual surety missing from his voice.

"Zane? What is the matter?"

"I must ask you a question, though I fear I should have asked this earlier of you."

"I am sure your timing is no issue," Pixal assured him. "What is your question?"

Zane felt chilled, but pressed on despite how belligerent he felt, and took her hand in his. "Pansy, if I may be so bold as to ask, you have not told me your family name. Might I know what it is?"

For a brief moment, Pixal's heart stopped. "You wish to know my family name?" she clarified.

"If you would let me know it, yes. I wish to know of your family."

Pixal could not meet his eyes, her mind racing. "I do not mean to assume, but Zane- Prince Zane- there would be but one reason for asking in this context. You couldn't possibly mean such a thing. It does not make sense."

"I know what such a question means." He sought out her gaze. "Lady Pansy, you are a most remarkable woman. It is a pleasure to simply know you, despite how slim our time has been. I would think no more nor less of you for your name."

"No, you most certainly would think differently." She broke away from him again. "I cannot tell you. You cannot know."

Zane's heart sank. "Pansy…" he uttered, the name sounding like a plea.

Pixal's heart clenched in her chest, the sudden reality of emotion clearer than a summer sky, her mind the eye of the storm. "Zane, you are a prince. My prince. If you are to- to consider a lady, she should be from some high and respectable station! I have no such thing."

"I do not care for station! Neither does my father." Zane took her hand in both of his. "Pansy, he declared this festival such that I might meet someone fitting, regardless of background."

"That matters little to me, either, but you would not find a proper lady in me, should you know my family. You would not see the woman you wish to see."

"The eyes deceive. Pansy, do you think I am shallow?" he asked, pain in his eyes.

"Of course not, your Highness." She drew away from him. "You are a man with integrity. I am not a lady to meet such a standard."

"How many times must I say it? The standards matter little to me." He put both of his hands on one of hers, enclosing it.

"I know this," Pixal said, looking down at their hands. "Nevertheless, you deserve better than me."

"I hardly believe such a woman could exist."

Pixal looked up sharply, and the intensity of Zane's gaze was nearly too much to bear. So much emotion was on display, she could not comprehend it, only knowing that it was tender, with his heart on his sleeve. She sighed, breath catching in her chest, feeling as if her spirit was caught in his gaze.

"You are not the kind of prince I believed our kingdom to have," she said after a few moments.

Zane chuckled, caught off guard. "What kind would you believe, Pansy?"

"None so willing to follow what he seeks, despite rebuff," she responded, a smile pulling at her lips. "Zane, you are… extraordinary."

"As are you," he responded. He gently raised her hand to his lips, kissing it. "Pansy, is there no way I might convince you? At the very least, I would like to continue our friendship, even if you wish for nothing more."

The gesture made Pixal feel flushed, and she racked her mind for an answer. She had no heart to deny such a plea, but no strength to allow him to see her true colors.

"I suppose there might be one way," she eventually whispered.

"What might it be?" he asked, hope coloring his voice as it bloomed in his chest. His grip on her hand became stronger.

She sighed gently, gears in her mind turning quickly as she concocted a plan. She spoke softly as she told him. "If you are able to find me, then you may know my name."

"Find you? Where? How?" He bowed his head toward her, ever so slightly.

She smiled despite herself. "I live on an estate not far from here. If you are able to find me, then you shall know." She tried to ignore how guilty it made her feel to grant him such a task, and worse, for him to still not know her first name– the one she still kept.

Zane contemplated this answer, wondering about her motivation but finding no sufficient answer. "You wish for me to seek out your home...?"

"That is correct." She nodded. "If you find me, then you shall know my name- then, too, you will also know all the other things you seek."

"I accept your challenge," Zane responded at length. He looked into her eyes and their emerald hue, memorizing the patterns of their variation. "I will find you, Pansy. No matter the difference in station, I believe we are compatible."

"You and I are compatible?" she parroted.

"That is what I said."

"Oh."

He laughed quietly. "Is that your only response?"

She blushed, her traitorous heart beating loudly in her chest. "Zane, I do not know what to say." The distance between them seemed small, and for a few moments it felt like she did not need to hide. "You are… simply incredible."

"As are you," he murmured. "If I may I even say it, you are the most beautiful flower I have ever laid eyes upon. If pansies are to indicate thoughtfulness, I can think of no more fitting owner of such a name."

She blushed and looked away. "You flatter me, Prince."

"Perhaps." He smiled. "I will find you, Pansy."

Her heart clenched in dread and anticipation. "I'm sure you will." She looked back at him, unwilling to consider her emotions any further. "Tell me, the day is still young. Might we enjoy it a little longer?"

"By all means." He offered his hand. "It would be my honor to continue such a fine day with you."

"The honor is mine." She took his hand and they both stood, so close and yet so far apart. "It is a privilege to have met you at all."

"I must say the same."

-----

The day's hours came and went, their daily pattern uninterrupted by the chaos in the hearts of men and women. Birds sang, the clouds drifted, and the wind blew. Even the insects kept to their habits, with bees in hives and ants in nests. Mankind was not so affected, either, for the festival continued in its pattern, with cheerful people doing business and having fun. Dancers danced, merchants bought and sold, and celebrators milled about.

For the rest of the day's younger hours, Pixal and Zane still did not part. Despite how much time they had spent together the past two days, they found themselves to be closer still, unwilling to attend to any business besides each other. Despite the mysteries between them, each found their bond to be enticing enough to tempt half-thought impulses which they studiously ignored. Several times that day, Pixal found herself needing to re-fasten her hair clip, finding it loose and slipping from her hair. Despite her troubles, however, it did not fall.

Throughout the day, they talked and walked, often stopping in shaded places. At one point, they returned to the pavilion for a few dances. Faster than either would have liked, the hours passed.

When the sun dipped near the horizon and the bell tower rang, both knew it was time to separate. At that time, Pixal took Zane's hand, deciding to ignore the inevitable.

"You are jousting again tonight, are you not?" she asked him.

"I am." Zane turned his hand to clasp hers. "Will you watch me?"

"I will. I have something for you." She smiled and put her free hand into her pocket, pulling out her blue scarf. Melded with white and sparkled with silvery thread, one of her last mementos from her mother, it sparkled like ice and snow.

Zane looked down at it, then up at her. "You would favour me?"

"I would." She put the scarf in his hand and clasped his fingers around it with utmost gentleness. "I do."

Zane held it gently. "You honor me, Pansy," he said, voice hushed like prayer.

"It is the other way around." She smiled. "Care for it well?"

"I will." Zane folded it gently and put it in his pocket.

"I will watch your jousting, and I wish you luck." With that, she threw caution to the wind and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Now you may show the world."

The smile on his face made Pixal's heart race. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and light, almost worshipful. "I will, with pride." Then he took her hand and kissed it. "I will find you, Pansy."

"I know you will," she responded, trying not to dread such time as he was right.

-----

After leaving Pansy's side, Zane moved quickly. Their parting had taken longer than he expected, but he still had a bit of time before he had to begin jousting. As such, he hurried to prepare himself, but he could not stop smiling.

The day had not gone entirely to plan, he supposed as he entered the arena. Pansy had been so resistant to telling him her family name, to the point that she had fully refused to do so. He wondered what it could mean. Was her family disgraced, or of low stature? Perhaps she believed the caste system was valuable, and such, she was not of high enough upbringing to be an acceptable princess. If such an idea was the reason, then he simply could not believe it, for she was too well-mannered to be such.

What was the reason, then? Embarrassment? She clearly did not dislike him, nor was she reciprocating his advances out of fear of refusal. No matter how he framed the idea, he simply could not find a suitable reason for her refusal.

With so many thoughts swirling in his mind, Zane entered the room where he was to dress himself with his armor. There, Cryptor awaited him again, already holding the armor.

"There you are, Prince Zane!" he greeted. "You have cut your time closely today."

"My apologies, Cryptor." Zane bowed his head hastily. "I was preoccupied."

"I'm sure you were." Cryptor stepped forward, holding out the first pieces for Zane to step into. "Were you with Lady Pansy again?"

"As a matter of fact, I was," Zane replied, buckling on the armor.

"That would be the explanation, then. Would it not?" A smile was evident in his voice, even though Zane could not see him.

"Yes," Zane admitted.

"Have you learned about her family, then?" The advisor brought the next piece for Zane to don and buckle. "You were most adamant to do so when we spoke yesterday."

Zane hesitated. "No, but I will learn it soon."

Cryptor sighed. "The festival is nearly over, and I doubt the lady would stay past the jousting to speak to you, no matter how willing or unwilling she is. How will you find a chance?"

"She asked me to find her, Cryptor. She said that if I did, she would introduce me to her father." Zane sighed faintly. "Unfortunately, I do not know why she said to do so."

"Perhaps because she is ashamed?"

"Perhaps."

"Have you any leads, then? Something to start your search?"

Zane ran down the list on his fingers before putting on his gauntlets. "She lives near the city, in an estate. She mentioned no family, but fair hair and green eyes is a rare combination. That should be at least enough to narrow down my search."

Cryptor buckled on his breastplate. "If it is not, you will not find her. I trust that you know that."

"I do." Now fully armored, Zane took his lance in his hands. "I also know that she is not fully against the idea."

"How might you know that? She has not yet given you a favour."

Zane smiled. "In that, dear Cryptor, you are mistaken." He took Pansy's scarf from his pocket.

Cryptor examined it in interest, feeling the soft fibers. "I stand corrected. This is a fine gift– she could not possibly be from any lower station than a minor noble."

"I agree," Zane replied, tying it to the lance. "I have no reason to suspect she is of low stature, but even if she was, I would not think any less of her."

"Then you will look for her?" Cryptor asked. "Even if the nobles of our kingdom find fault with her?"

"I choose my bride, and no other," Zane responded, taking the opportunity to mount his stallion, Shard. "They will simply have to accept the lady I choose."

Cryptor smiled. "You are more certain about this decision than many I have seen you make, Prince Zane. The confidence suits you well." He put a hand on Zane's knee. "Have a good joust, your Highness."

Zane nodded in thanks, bringing down his visor. "Thank you, Cryptor. For everything."

"You are most welcome, though I suspect I will be helping with your search."

"Most likely." Zane chuckled, the sound echoing in his helmet. "The lady is elusive."

"She is indeed." With that, Zane trotted onto the jousting field, to the sound of the cheering crowd, lifting Pixal's favour high into the air.

-----

The sound of the festival crowd was loud enough to shake the earth. It was an unabated roar such as Pixal had never heard, louder even than the bear that had once wandered onto the Borg estate, and fiercer than her father's cry of war as he drove it from the property. She covered her ears as she adjusted to the feeling.

The jousting tournament had been going on for a while before she arrived, yet there was still a place low in the stands where she was able to stand. Unbeknownst to her before she found her space, she was near the king's viewing box, making space rare and highly sought. However, not one man nor woman inconvenienced her, nor asked for her to move, which she considered providential. From her vantage point, she saw every joust at a prime view.

The first of the few jousts Pixal saw was between two experienced knights. The first knight bore a favour in the form of a red veil on his lance and a crest belying the Gordon family– it was emblazoned with stars and moons, with a mace in the center. The knight had to be Sir Cliff, patriarch of the family. The other bore no favour that she could see, yet held his lance high. His crest was that of the Powers– a compass and quill next to a pike, making him none other than the newly-knighted Sir Clutch.

The jousters came at each other at the sound of a loud bell, lances raised. Sir Cliff scored a solid hit on Sir Clutch's shoulder, but the knight did not fall. Instead, he rolled his shoulder as they came about for the next impact.

The next strike was Clutch's, upon Cliff's chest plate. The sound of the strike rang out, and the crowd cheered. In his reeling from the force, he tumbled and fell to the sand.

Pixal marveled as Cliff got up and dusted himself off, the joust already over. He bowed to the king's viewing box and then to the crowd before re-mounting his horse, then rode off to an opening in the wall and exited.

The speed of the joust took Pixal by surprise, even as the crowd lauded him. She watched in quiet awe as Clutch took off at a canter, circling the arena and raising his lance high. When he came closer, she realized he had a minimal gray scarf tied to the handle of his lance. Then he pointed it at a lady in silver in the stands, indicating she was the owner of the favour.

Pixal froze. She had given Zane a favour, thinking it was anonymous, and had not told him where she would be as she watched. Would the prince find her and single her out? Her family would know she had lied if they saw her. Would they recognize her scarf? How could she do anything to protect herself from their wrath?

As she contemplated this, a flash of silver caught her eye. Another knight entered the arena, clad in shining silver armor, more ornate than any she had seen before. It boasted strong, artisanal plating, and the pauldrons bore a crest. So too did the shield, and as he neared, she recognized the falcon and falling snow. Finally, upon his lance was tied a blue and white scarf, matching the paint of his crest.

Pixal's heart caught in her chest. There was Prince Zane, in all his glory, bearing her favour proudly. Strong and resilient, despite being hidden from head to toe, he was the model knight. The crowd grew wilder than any she had heard so far, and she heard murmurs from women near her about the scarf. Some shouted, others whispered, and all mentioned Pixal's scarf.

Zane canter around the arena, circling to a place before the king's box- and despite his lack of knowledge, before her. Pixal watched as he paid respect to his father, and resisted the urge to wave at him, giving away her position. Nevertheless, it felt like his gaze was fixed upon her, and a chill ran up her spine.

After the few moments had elapsed, Zane turned and went to his mark, where he waited to joust against Sir Clutch. According to a herald, they were one of the final pairs for the tournament, and it was to be Sir Clutch's last joust of the night.

A bell sounded, and the two were off, Pixal's heart beating faster than their horses' hooves.

With a mighty clang, Zane's lance struck Clutch's chest. Clutch was knocked back, but stayed astride his steed.

The crowd cheered. Pixal whispered a silent prayer for Zane.

The second attack was much like the first, loud and majestic. Clutch was struck on the helmet, and his head turned fiercely, but he did not fall. Both jousters stayed upright.

Zane returned to his mark at the sound of yet more thunderous support. Pixal watched her scarf flutter in the wind.

The third attack began, and this time Zane was struck, the blow glancing off his pauldron.

The crowd gasped as he was pushed back in his saddle, and he put a hand to his shoulder. Pixal breathed a quiet prayer as he looked as if he was to fall. Then, after a moment, the prince righted himself, triggering more cheers, and Pixal sighed in relief.

The fourth attack came with undeniable finality, as Clutch was struck fully in the chest and fell to the side off his mount. From the force of his attack, Zane continued forward, circling around the rail central in the arena.

Pixal watched in openmouthed awe as Zane slowed to a stop, the crowd quiet. He turned his steed around, and the horse neighed in the empty air. The prince was still for a few moments, and then slowly raised his lance, scarf fluttering.

The crowd exploded into cheering. Pixal applauded him, heart pounding, as he came before the king. Zane looked up at his father and bowed his head. The king raised his hand in approval, clearly proud. The crowd celebrated again.

A smile crept into Pixal's face as she watched Zane. For a few more rounds, he jousted several knights. Not once did he fall, and only once more did he stumble, completely sure in his skill. The crowds celebrated him every time, and every time he would circle back toward his father, as if he knew she were up there, watching. At the end, he spoke in the ear of a servant, who ran from the field, and she wondered what he said.

To Pixal's joy and dismay, the tournament did not last forever. She knew she was on borrowed time, for her family would return home soon, so she readied herself to hastily leave the arena. As such, she was just about to escape when the king made an announcement, hushing the crowds as he dismissed the same servant from before that had been whispering something to him.

"My people, I thank you for your enthusiasm for this tournament," the king began. "I hope that you have enjoyed the festival!"

The crowds roared in appreciation.

"Good, good! There is one last announcement for you, on behalf of my son, Prince Zane." Pixal's heart caught in her throat as she struggled to spy the king's smiling face. "He would like to inform the world that he has chosen a lady, but that he cannot find her."

Chaos exploded in the arena. Pixal heard several cries from nearby women. She watched, heart pounding, as the king explained the prince's search for her.

"Now, my people, please. I will tell you what she is like, that you may help my dear son. The lady he is seeking has the fairest of hair and green eyes. He does not wish to disclose her name– let it only be known that the name is short. He seeks to return her favour, as thanks for the luck it brought him. Anyone who aids in her discovery will be handsomely rewarded."

Throughout the announcement, the crowd stewed in mixed confusion and excitement. After it finished, they vocalized their emotions, such that the king could not calm them. Pixal smiled to keep up her charade, but it hurt to breathe as she listened. Before order was restored, she took her opportunity and left the stands as quickly as possible, running to find the place where she had hidden her spellbook.

Despite her clear memory, the search for the spellbook was not easy. When she at last found it, the stands were mostly empty. Her family was doubtlessly on the way home, before she was, and were likely to return soon! It was clear that her time was running out.

After casting her spell and returning home, Pixal wasted no time in tearing down her charade. First she ran to her sister's room, returning the gown and jewelry like she had found it– not a difficult task, given how messy her stepsisters were. Second, she ran to her own room, taking down her hair and hiding her fine things in the wallboard, which seemed to be looser than it once was and swung quite freely on the connecting nail. Third, she grabbed her cleaning supplies, going for the dirtiest of jobs in order to hide how clean she was and how she had just arrived.

For a little while, a hesitant peace descended upon Pixal's mind as she cleaned, the repetitive tasks soothing her. She began to be able to reason through the ways she would be able to hide, should she need to do so, in order that Amaryllis would not realize her deception.

Finally, Pixal came across a task that she was not strong enough to do, having spent all her energy at the festival, and decided it was the proper moment to use magic to aid her.

It was not until she asked for its help that she realized her enchanted hairclip was gone, fallen from her hair.

#ninjago #ninjago pixal #ninjago zane #pixal borg #zane julien #pixane #ninjago fanfiction #OLST fanfic #OLST writing #ninjago fairy tale au #a bride for the prince

[spoiledleaff]

✿ — masterlist.

— hey, hello! this post is basically just a silly little masterlist of all of my writings! the links featured in the titles of each work will take you directly to the full fics published on ao3. all fics below are organized based alphabetically based on fandom + then further organized by the dates with which they were published! most recent fics are on the top, older fics are on the bottom :) friendly reminder that there is nsfw content featured below, minors please beware.

» prompt collection.

✿ — "spoiled ✿ archives." || everyone + everyone.

➥ just silly prompts that the silly little people in my phone leave for me on tumblr!! ùwú

NSFW + SFW : content varies per chapter, please look into chapter's a/n for more information + warnings. RATING : ratings vary per chapter. LENGTH : 15 chapters // 19.5k words // chapter updates vary on askbox activity + motivation.

» ghost.

✿ — "you shine like the sun and the moon (and the stars in the sky)." || maggot (oc) + sathyr (oc).

➥ gross, they're in love.

SFW : lazy mornings, soft + wholesome. RATING : teen. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 3.3k words // completed.

✿ — "but i love you (i love you)." || amaryllis (oc) + mountain/swiss.

➥ amaryllis needs her mates, what's wrong with a little shiny surprise to spice things up?

NSFW : polyamory, daddy kink, mating cycles, dom/sub dynamics. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 2 chapters // 9.3k words // completed.

✿ — "cry for absolution." || zephyr + cowbell.

➥ cowbell apparently has a thing for a pianists hands, and zephyr can never tell it 'no'.

NSFW : t4t/nb4nb, hand kink, light power dynamics, guided masturbation. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 5.0k words // completed.

✿ — "i'll make you beg for more." || dewdrop + mountain.

➥ dewdrop says his dick is bigger, and mountain's going to make it happen.

NSFW : t4t, bdsm dynamics, genital torture, impact play; safe, sane, and consensual. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 5.0k words // completed.

✿ — "there's a sting in the way you kiss me." || sunshine + aether.

➥ the first thing my mind went to apparently in regard to the new re-imperatour lineup.

NSFW : mtf mommy dom sunshine, femdom, chastity, orgasm denial, anal. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 6.6k words // completed.

✿ — "mushy ✿ may." || everyone + everyone!

➥ haha!! what the hell, let's get mushy!! ♡

NSFW + SFW : mushy may 2023 calendar + prompt list >>here. RATING : ratings vary by chapter. LENGTH : 6 chapters // 11.2k words // unfinished + probably abandoned. :')

✿ — "telomeres." || mountain + zephyr.

➥ zephyr and mountain are smoking buddies.

NSFW : nb4t, ghweed, sex under the influence, semi-public sex. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 9.6k words // completed.

✿ — "ghost of the sun." || dewdrop + mountain.

➥ dewdrop cut his hair for unhealthy reasons. mountain knows.

NSFW + DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT : hate-fuck, dubious consent, angst with a happy ending, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 11.2k words // completed.

✿ — "sun-kissed chocolate chips." || dewdrop + mountain.

➥ mountain’s trying to do something nice for his packmates, and dewdrop gets all hot and bothered over it.

NSFW : morning sex, rimming, slight food kink. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 5.3 words // completed.

✿ — "unholy eyes." || dewdrop + rain.

➥ rain has a gift for dewdrop.

NSFW : nb4t, forced feminization, mirror sex. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 13.1k words // completed.

✿ — "hey, little darling (look at you)." || terzo + omega.

➥ terzo is being a goddamn tease during rehearsal, and omega catches sight of something he shouldn’t have. you know, for his rapidly decreasing sanity.

NSFW : lingerie, teasing + banter, knotting, cat/mouse dynamics. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 9.5k words // completed.

✿ — "let me justify my own rewards (put your hands on me)." || dewdrop + copia.

➥ copia has to inject his medicine, and dewdrop always has a reserved spot between his legs.

NSFW : t4t, frottage, soft + wholesome. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 11.0k words // completed.

✿ — "we dance once more (i feel your hands are cold)." || dewdrop + sunshine/rain.

➥ dewdrop is a good boy (for once), and both sunshine and rain know this firsthand.

NSFW : mtf sunshine, polyamory + group sex, dom/sub dynamics. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 8.2k words // completed.

✿ — "the world is on fire (and you are here to stay and burn with me)." || dewdrop + era iv.

➥ dewdrop’s cycle has a bit of a ‘surprise’ tucked in store for him, but he doesn’t want to bother the other ghouls about it… yeah, no, they’re not having that. like, at all.

NSFW : kinktober, group sex, heat cycles/pack dynamics. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 22.4k words // completed.

» sleep token.

✿ — "i want to have you to myself (for once)." || ii + vessel.

➥ vessel is the new god of the kingdom and ii is his advisor, his knight, his everything-

NSFW : fantasy au, cannibalistic/religious imagery, frottage, teeth/spit kink, god! king! vessel + knight! ii. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 13.1k words // completed.

» stranger things.

✿ — "there is love in your body (but you can't hold it in)." || steve harrington + eddie munson.

➥ steve gets his period, and eddie's hungry for one specific thing.

NSFW : t4t, menstrual/blood kink, vampire!eddie munson. RATING : explicit. LENGTH : 1 chapter // 9.3k words // completed.

#ooc leaf #masterlist #fanfiction masterlist #ao3 masterlist #ao3 fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band fanfiction #ghost bc fanfiction #fanfiction

[dragon-of-timeless-blue]

I just finished chapter 6 of New World and it literally just reminded me why I love Dr.Stone so much, It made me excited about the meaning of science and I also had a lot of fun with all the interactions between the characters!!

Some highlights:

I liked that throughout the chapter there were many very funny and cute chibis they are so silly!!

The whole scene of everyone dancing around Ginro made me laugh so hard osskxkxnlddkosskxk

Yuzuriha saying that she is already used to Senku's infodumpings, I literally love their friendship very much, autistic friendship

Kohaku's scene talking about how she thinks she already understands Gen's behavior, aaaaaah

The boat tour

SOYUZ AND THE DESIRE TO KNOW ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽ JUST GOT ME EMOTIONAL

Senku saying "we arrive,Byakuya" 😭💚 (yes I know he didn't say it he said it in a very emotional slow scene but IT'S STILL BEAUTIFUL OK)

Gen and Senku being little menaces and soulmates in a chaotic way

Captain Ryusui ✨

THE FACT THAT WE GET TO SEE AMARYLLIS MY GIRL IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

#dr stone #dr. stone #dr stone spoilers #dr stone new world #dr stone new world spoilers #drsgon rambles #I LOVED THE EPISODE!!!

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

2 & 9 for opal!

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

He knows what he's doing. Not all of it can be chalked up to dumb boy who doesn't know better.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

I like this question. Here is his playlist! And attached favorite lyrics like the 8tracks days. I can't say who he's referring to in every song, but maybe you might have some ideas?

Well, I'm just a kid of ill repute / But the skin I wear's my only suit / And you, you're just a substitute / For the one that I hold dear

2. The blocking characters are plotting new disloyalty / But sensing their irrelevance, they're frowning and displeased / The car chased through the mini-mall, amaryllis on the hood

3. All these things I've tried, boy, be cute, be dumb, be wise, be young

4. I'M SCARED! THAT I! WON'T E! VER CHANGE! I THINK! ABOUT! HER E! VERY DAY! I CAN'T! LET GO! I CAN'T! GO ON! I'M NOT! OKAY! AT ALL!

5. Hey there Mr. Blue! We're so pleased to be with you!

6. 'Cuz my heart is my keep! / And yo-u-u-u-u-u are threatening me!

7. The ache of a decade / the cure is overdue / for this brand-new kind of blue

8. You told me I'm hard to live with, but you said it out of spite! / I may put you through some suffering but I'll never prove you right! / It's a chapter that you're stuck on, but you'd rather read alone / I'm an uninspiring ending, but the best you've ever known!

9. Once I was the King of Spain / now I eat humble pie / A palatial palace, that was my home / now I eat humble pie

10. All My Friends Are Falling In Love / I know that if I was to set you free / You'd let them take you away from me

11. The sleeping beauty of the wasteland / Carry the milk or pierce the body with swords / machine guns, flowers, and peacock feathers

12. You got a reaction / You got a reaction, didn't you? / You took a white orchid / You took a white orchid turned it blue

13. 'Cuz what if I become my mother's / sole reputation? / and with no hesitation / i just burn all night

14. You are an unfit rival / By spirits taught to sing / But a tune so twisted now / Like all that's sweet's gone sour

15. I hug myself hard / How come there's peacocks in the front yard?

16. One girl's not so loud, like a convert she believes / She's always been looking for wires / But now she knows none are required / It's magic

17. I can see now you've stepped into the light / You've got those bright kind of eyes that I like / I kinda lie and I can't find a way through / I've obscured my own view / Well I'd do anything to make you mine

18. I just want to know what your feathers are made out of / Is it bruises or roses or cradles or coffins? (It's all those!) / Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest? / If your friends are all cripple, all wither, all wilt / I know, I know, I know

19. My name should be trouble / my name should be woe! / 'cuz trouble heartache / is all that I know! / Lonely lonely blue boy / is my name!

20. Don't occupy my throne, give me the crown I own / Lived like you told me how, look at me now

21. Swear to shake it up, if you swear to listen / Oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention / I aim to be your eyes, trophy boys, trophy wives

22. [no lyrics]

23. Misjudged your limits / Pushed you too far / Took you for granted / I thought that you needed me more, more, more

24. Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone / You wish that they hadn't, you don't wanna be alone / But they wanna kiss and they got homes of their own

25. What she asked of me at the end of the day/ Caligula would have blushed!

26. [no lyrics]

27. Today I am / A small blue thing / Like a marble / Or an eye / With my knees against my mouth

28. Will you come a little closer now and tell me I'm a / Scrawny mother fucker with a cool hairstyle?

29. Hello again / Not much has changed / I'm still the same / Just a bit older / Where have you been? / How do you like it? / I'm still the same / Just a bit bolder

#cecil drawls #opal schiller #carousel waltz #blazednarancia

[damienthepious]

ksldjfjks not letting myself get behind on these again HERE is the CHAPTER enJOY

The Beast In On His Chain (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Absolon

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, prisoner/guard dynamic, Dehumanization, (which feels like a weird word to use for a nonhuman person bUT. it’s what i got.), Despair, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (EVENTUALLY!!!! it’ll take a while), Captivity, Suicidal Thoughts, (that will be a theme throughout. inescapable in this particular fic. alas.), Eventual Romance, (Yes the dynamics in this one are fucked. honestly i’m kinda Stretching my limits these days.), (having fun with it. fucking around. it’s fine.), Recovery, (eventually), Self-Reclamation

Chapter Summary: Softness, and sharpness.

Chapter Notes: the last chapter came out short and this one DID NOT. CHAPTER WARNINGS for starvation (again), suicidal thoughts (again), something that is comparable to a suicide attempt, blood, violence, threats of further violence, and heavy implications of abuse/torture. PLEASE let me know if i missed anything, i'm far more worried about accurate warnings than i am about spoilers.

~

"Psst. Good morning, Arum!"

Arum flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name, startled and bizarrely eager and trying not to show it, and the human-

Amaryllis swims into view as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, grinning a conspiratorial grin with the toes of one boot obstinately edging past the line on the floor.

Arum reels himself back with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at the human in a vague question.

He doesn't know why she's back again. He won't let himself hope for another journal of crumbs, and he also doesn't understand this...

Damien isn't here today. He insists on informing Arum when he will be off-duty for a few days, so Arum knows that he will not be here to relieve the current guard in a few hours, even. And Amaryllis is back.

Three times seems... like it wouldn't be a coincidence. Sir Damien has been here more days than he hasn't, since Arum first noticed him. The chances are extremely unlikely that this other human would randomly happen to appear only when Sir Damien is absent.

Arum does not know what that means, but he certainly does not trust it.

"I would ask how you've been," she says, her smile tilting and her brow furrowing with something like understanding, or perhaps sympathy. "But that seems like a rub-salt-in-the-wound sort of question."

Arum snorts despite himself, and her grin returns. He lowers his head again, resting his chin on his arms with the collar digging uncomfortably into his neck, but he doesn't close his eyes, deciding to watch her as she glances back towards the door.

"So. Last time. I got the impression that your favorites were the flowers and the birds. And the landscapes, but most of my landscapes involve both flowers and birds, so." She pauses. "Unless I'm making that up?"

Arum sighs again, still uncertain, but after a moment he nods, ignoring the way the collar pulls. He glances away from her as well, for a moment, when her smile goes even more blinding.

"Great! Perfect. I've been doing a lot with the color green, lately."

She spends three tours worth of time going through her newest journal, packed thick with pages of botanical sketches and examinations of birds, the latter focusing on anatomy and the former- notes that Arum takes a few minutes to recognize as medical. A small part of him wishes he could ask about that. He is fairly certain that one of the succulents she has detailed is a variant of something he has- had in his greenhouse, and he is curious about the differences between the two.

(Has the Keep been able to manage the greenhouse without him?)

The birds feel less fraught. The way she draws the wings- it is perhaps more flat than he would prefer - she draws her lines a little too straight - but the musculature is extremely precise.

When she reaches the end, a few minutes before the next tour is due if his measure is correct, she exhales a long breath and lifts her gaze to him again.

"I hope-" she pauses. "I really don't know how to say this."

Arum lifts his head, then, annoyed and intrigued at the same time. He raises his brow, and she huffs a sigh.

"Alright, alright. Is this- do you like when I come do this? Is it actually- do you actually enjoy it, or do you not care at all? Or am I just making things worse for you?" She pauses as Arum stares at her, entirely blank, and then she continues. "You know that I'd leave you alone if you asked, right?"

Arum rolls his eyes, utterly unwilling to dignify that with a response, and she scowls at him, planting her hands on her hips.

"I mean it. Look, Arum," he twitches involuntarily, ignores it, "I told you before- I'm doing this because I think this- this whole situation is a nightmare, and I can't do anything real about it. Not-" she pauses, and Arum thinks- she changes what she was going to say, shaking her head. "I'm not here to make your imprisonment worse. That's the last thing I want. So. Do you want me to stop visiting?"

She- waits. Watches him. Arum feels his shoulders sink, discomfort and irritation and a resurrected bristling of his remaining scraps of pride, but- she only waits, and after a long, long moment, Arum relents. He shakes his head.

No. He does not want her to stop. He does not want to give up the chance to see her again. Does not want to give up these flattened trinkets of the world beyond these walls.

Her own shoulders lower, her expression melting into something like relief, and she nods with an enthusiasm that surprises him.

"Good. Good, Arum. I'm glad. I just-" she pauses again, biting her lip for a moment in a wincing sort of way, and then she mutters, "oh, fuck all of this," and then she-

She- pulls a page from her sketchbook? Arum makes in incredulous noise, pulling his head back, but she doesn't seem to hear him, her expression fixed in a determined scowl as she shoves the rest of the book into the satchel at her side. She takes the page in both hands, then, and folds it, and then folds it again, and then-

Ah. A little paper dart with narrowed wings, the edges of her drawing jagged and confusing between the folds. She holds it up in one hand, prepared to send the makeshift bird flying, and with one eyebrow raised, she asks, "Catch?"

Arum stares at her for slightly less of a pause, this time, and then he nods again, shifting to sit more upright as he lifts a pair of hands.

She grins, her hand flicking elegantly forward to send the dart gliding in an almost-perfect arc. Arum manages to catch it by a wing between his claws, his arm trembling as he pulls it back, hiding it quickly behind another hand.

"Just- something for- until my next visit. I know it isn't much, really, but-"

Arum shakes his head, not looking at her, his heart- pounding strangely, thudding in a way that makes his sternum feel tight and uncomfortable. He doesn't want to risk a word, but- he hisses sharply to stop that particular line of thinking. He unfolds the paper with more care than is strictly necessary, but with his cracked claws and shaking hands, he does not want to risk accidentally tearing his prize.

It's a drawing of a pond, thick with reeds and with a long-necked heron upright and noble in the shallows. Arum had lingered on this one perhaps the longest of what Amaryllis showed him today. Did she notice that? Was the choice intentional, or was is just the first drawing she could snatch up?

It smells like the charcoal did. Like charcoal, of course, in the first place, but- the warm alive scent he assumes must simply be Amaryllis herself. He flicks his tongue, his mouth painfully dry but still- he can smell the leather of the binding, some sort of wood, perhaps her home or the table she drew on. Chamomile, and his heart lurches again with a sort of desperation. Peaches and honeysuckle.

He tears his eyes form the page to look at her. She watches him with a rapt attention, as if cataloging his responses, but- he can't bring himself to indignation, for once. He's too tired, too... too grateful, despite himself.

She twitches a smile after a moment. "If you've still got the charcoal... I promise I won't be offended if you draw whatever you want on the back. Or- hell, all over the front, too. It's yours, it's a gift, you can do whatever you want with it. Tear it to pieces, it's yours."

Arum swallows, compulsively pressing the paper against his chest, the idea of shredding that peaceful little pond-

No. No, no-

Pathetic. He has been made truly, truly so pathetic. Accepting scraps and crumbs and drops. Accepting pity.

He is so tired.

(In his head, already, the idea of what he could add to the scene. Flora in the empty spaces around the pond. Suggestions of fish beneath the water. Someone at the bank, watching the birds and the frogs.)

He tucks the paper underneath himself, swallowing roughly. He hopes that she does not expect gratitude.

"I'll be back," she says when the next tour group enters, and Arum decides that she... probably isn't lying. He manages a nod, and she gives him another wide smile before she pulls her foot back from over the line, and disappears back into whatever her real life is.

~

The anger feels bigger, after that. He thinks of the knights trapping him here and seethes. He thinks of the little queen with the terrified eyes and wishes he had killed her himself, when he had the chance.

He wishes he could just starve to death. He wonders, if he had any magic to his tongue, if he could talk himself into it.

He folds Amaryllis' page carefully, using the seams from the paper dart, and hides it underneath the metal of the cuff on his upper left wrist, where his bone-thin frame allows just enough room to hide it properly.

And he thinks-

Pity, or kindness. Is there even a difference? Why do these gestures feel safer from Amaryllis rather than from Sir Damien? The knighthood, likely, but- is that all?

Amaryllis feels... earnest. Artless. He can almost feel her own anger, a sharp little mirror of his own. Damien feels as if he is only trying to prove something to himself.

And-

There is a thought, there.

Damien thinks him pitiable. Damien does not seem to fear him.

Damien is willing to risk stepping over the line, to try to offer Arum kindness- pity- whatever it is.

Arum can use that.

Arum thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

And when the guards are not looking, he sharpens the jagged edges of his claws on the stone beneath him.

~

Arum waits a few days. He is patient, in his own way. He knows that even though the knight is bound for foolishness, he is still a knight, and he will not trust a sudden change.

Arum softens his responses gradually, hesitating before he denies Damien's offer of water. He eyes the flask, allowing his expression to actually show the depth of his thirst, and Damien (yes, just like that, little fool) takes another step closer, offering the flask out in a loose hand.

Arum still waits, shaking his head and sighing himself back down to his stone. If Damien means to pity him... well. If it can be useful, Arum will not discourage such things.

Arum hesitates for a little too long, a few days later, and Damien huffs a breath, stepping entirely over the line, lifting the flask and almost pressing it into Arum's claws.

"Really, now," he says in a tone of gentle chastising. "Will you just-"

Arum would say that it almost feels too easy, if it hadn't been for the week or so of prelude. Claws around the wrist, dig the claw of his thumb into the pad of Damien's palm, twist and pull while he yelps at the sudden pain, drag the knight bodily back as he stumbles and-

Oh but he is stronger than he looks, lean muscle hidden beneath all that armor.

Arum is desperate, though. A little struggling is not going to be enough, this time. He folds Damien's back against his chest, twisting two of his own arms so the chains criss-cross in front of Damien's throat and he can pull, holding the knight securely against him.

"Ah- wh-"

Damien is furnace-hot. Arum did not expect that part. Mammals and all their ridiculous overabundance of heat. The foolish, starving part of Arum wishes to melt into the heat, nevermind the rest, he could sleep in this warmth. Almost as distracting as Damien's scent clouding his snout, leather and skin and feathers and-

Honeysuckle? His curly hair is dusted with pollen, he smells like a garden, Arum wants to devour him, but-

Task at hand, task at hand. One chance at this. Needs to play this situation right.

When he opens his mouth to hiss in Damien's ear, however, what comes out is-

"You should scream, honeysuckle."

Which-

Damien gasps, trying to arch away from Arum's grasp, so- it will do. It does not matter that the words tripped on his tongue. His claws and his teeth are sharp, and the chains are sturdy and thick, and Damien must know that Arum could very well kill him like this. The human windpipe is not all that difficult to pierce, or to crush.

"What are you doing-" the knight gasps, all the words compressed to one breath, and Arum snarls and tightens his grip.

"Scream," Arum hisses again, ignoring the flare of pain in his throat, but Damien does not need to. The door to the rest of the Citadel bangs open, and Arum grins. Apparently Damien's yelp when Arum cut his hand had been enough to cause a stir. And-

Ah.

Arum recognizes the knight that charges into the chamber first.

"Sir Damien," Sir Absolon says as he skids to a stop on the stone, his hand on his hilt and his tone strangely warning, as if his ire is directed towards his fellow knight before the monster threatening his life. Two other knights tail him, their expressions far more worried.

Arum does not care about their emotions, just at the moment. He pulls the chains tight across Damien's throat, enough to make him gasp and choke, and then he loosens his grip enough to let the creature breathe again.

"Unchain me," Arum demands, snarling past the collar, "or I kill him."

Damien chokes on a breath even without the chain going taut, panic in his scent now, in his still-struggling frame, but he doesn't try to speak.

"Out of the question," Sir Absolon snaps, his hand twitching against his hilt, his expression pulling into a contorted sneer.

"Then you are going to need to kill me," Arum says, and it would be a purr if not for his shredded voice, subtle and hungry. "That- is your decision. I kill- him. You free me. Or kill me."

Pain spreads from his throat, thudding in his eardrums and then behind his eyes at the prolonged attempt at communication, but- he has managed the most important part. Terms are set. He will be free, or someone will die. Arum would prefer himself, at this point, but-

"Go on then," Sir Absolon says, sharp and without hesitation. He sneers, gesturing his arms wide and making no move whatsoever to draw his weapon, and Sir Damien stills.

"S-Sir Absolon," Damien says, sounding very blank.

Arum tightens his grip, his secondary hands lifting to dig claws into the skin just above Damien's collarbone. "I will. Release me or- or I tear his throat open. Snap him like a twig-"

"Do it. Don't just threaten, monster, follow through." The knight- grins, white teeth in a neat row, and Arum pulls his head back. Even the other knights at Sir Absolon's back shift with something like discomfort, but they do nothing. Say nothing. "Keeping your nasty little swamp tamed is worth the cost of a knight or two, and Sir Damien serves our Citadel bravely, and unwaveringly. He's not afraid. Are you, Sir Damien?"

Damien-

Breathes. Sharp and quick with his eyes on this other knight, his heart thudding hard in his chest, his back pressed firm to Arum's chest, but- he does not answer. His mouth hangs open with his ragged breathing, but either he cannot speak, or he will not. Arum resists the urge to resettle his grip on the knight, resists the urge to- he doesn't know. To press for an answer himself, perhaps. Is Sir Damien prepared to die like this? To die just as much by the word of his fellow knight as by Arum's hands? Sir Damien's prattling tongue is still, now, though, and utterly silent, but- his blankness, his silence must be enough, because Sir Absolon's grin grows even further.

"There's a good boy," Absolon says smugly, and Sir Damien's muscles twitch in Arum's grasp. "He's a loyal knight. Loyal knights are willing to die for their Citadel. So, monster-" he pauses to laugh, an unpleasantly throaty sound that Arum cannot reconcile with Damien's own breath-soft laughter. "Sorry," he sneers, "so, Lord of the Swamp, commit to your threats and do it. See how well that ends for you. You still won't find your freedom, in truth or in death, but by Saint Aaron I can promise you, I do promise you, I'll make you wish you were dead."

I already do, you idiot, Arum thinks with a vicious snarl, feeling Sir Damien's heart skip a beat against him. There is nothing you can do to make my continued survival any worse.

But.

The knight is right. The threat is empty, isn't it? If these fools care so little for Sir Damien- if even his murder could not spur them to kill him in retribution-

They won't release him, either in freedom or in death. Not even in exchange for Sir Damien's life. Sir Damien's life is not worth anything to them.

... Arum should kill him anyway.

He should. He should slit the knight's throat and then try to at least make the other smug bastard bleed before they pull his choke-chain too tight to struggle against. He should make them suffer, as many of them as he can, because it is the only way he can make them feel even a fraction of what they've done to him.

(Sir Damien's heartbeat flutters against Arum's thumb, his breath shallow and uncertain, but alive, still alive.)

Arum swallows, squeezing Damien's pulse a little tighter, a pained growl in his own throat.

He should. He should.

But-

(He never wanted to make a crueler world.)

(How will he ever hear his Keep's lullaby again, if Sir Damien is dead?)

His arms tremble with even this little effort. The memory of the ease with which he once wielded his knives burns at the pit of his stomach. Sir Damien is hot as coals against him, the warmest thing he's touched since... before. His throat burns with the punishment of the collar and with something else, something less defined.

(oh, he says, his eyes so wide and honey-brown and touched by the barest edge of something like sympathy. A nightmare?)

His grip slackens, hopeless. Arum could, perhaps, blame it on his own trembling hands, but Damien startles against him as soon as he is able, twisting in his loosening grip to look back and search Arum's face with his own expression panicked flat. Arum feels what little strength he mustered for this failed effort leave him entirely, feels shame and grief and an ironic amusement at his own failure twist together within him, and he untwists the chains from around Damien's neck, and sways back from the knight so when the collapse takes him, he won't crumple to the floor with all their limbs still tangled together.

Damien half-catches him as he falls anyway, gripping his arms with a shocked noise, awkwardly easing him down against the plinth until Arum can pull away enough to simply curl into himself, burying his collared head against his knees, his trembling arms wrapping around the back of his head, his ruined horns.

"Stupid thing," Sir Absolon spits, fury underlying his tone, and then, "To the infirmary, Sir Damien."

"Wh-what?" Damien says, sounding so completely lost and breathless above Arum's head, and Arum curls into an even tighter ball.

"Infirmary, soldier, you're bleeding and we don't need you here right now."

"But- but he-"

"We can handle the beast, Sir Damien, since apparently you can't. You're done here. Go."

Arum does not look. He can't force his own eyes back open, cannot force his face to lift, but-

He can feel Damien looking at him, an almost burning intensity before he hears Damien's footsteps retreat, reluctant tap-taps across the stone until the door creaks open, pauses a breath, and then clicks uncertainly back closed.

Other footsteps, then. Heavier and with greater purpose, and the other knight - Sir Absolon, if ever Arum wished to curse a creature it would be him - steps closer to Arum's chains.

"Now. Swamp lord. That was an interesting little outburst, wasn't it? We've already been over this lesson so many times, I'd think you'd've learned by now! But maybe that's stupid of me, to think. Humans can learn. Hell, even dogs can learn. But you?" Arum cannot see him, refuses to look, tries not to let himself care, but- he can hear the grin in Sir Absolon's voice as he continues, "You're just a monster. I should've known not to expect any better."

There's a pause. Arum hears metal and leather rattle, and he knows automatically that the knights are setting their weapons aside. Out of reach.

"Now, monster," Sir Absolon says, all false cheer. "I can tell you a couple things about the rest of your day. You aren't going to die. That'd be bad for the war effort, see, and I'm not about to disappoint my queen."

Arum scoffs. He can't help himself, really, and- it isn't as if there's anything he can do to make what's coming worse.

"Shut the fuck up," Sir Absolon says in that same smug, certain voice, and Arum feels- hand on his horn, pressing his face down against the stone. "You aren't going to die, today," he says again. "But I made you a promise, lizard, and I'm damn well going to keep it."

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #sir absolon #(MY PERMA-ASSHOLE. THANK YOU FOR SERVING YOUR FUNCTION SIR) #also pain. pain and suffering. spain and puffering even #the beast in on his chain

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 6

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe - modern setting, Jaskier is having the worst time of his life, valdo is here to make everything worse, confusion, banter, insecure Jaskier, internalized slut shaming, light angst, family drama

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 16,667 words

Chapter word count: 2,908 words

Chapters: 6/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: Jaskier has a few things to say to Amaryllis, and someone else has a few things to say to him.

Author's notes: Whoops, this chapter became a little bit more emotional rather than cracky but sometimes we need that too, I guess!

Read on Ao3

*

Sara was the most understanding person Amaryllis has ever met. She accepted her with all her flaws, with her messiness and her stubbornness alike. She truly was going to be the best wife Amaryllis could wish for.

But even her eyebrows shot up higher than a ten-story building when Amaryllis told her about the letters. Sara knew about Amaryllis's wish to find her other parent, of course: she was the first person Amaryllis revealed this to. But she had no idea about the scheme her fiancée cooked up, until now.

For a few moments, she just stared ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. Amaryllis fiddled with her hands nervously, chewing on her lower lip. She watched Sara from the corner of her eye carefully.

"Well," Sara finally said after a long, pregnant silence, "this may have not been your best idea, Baby."

"God, I know," Amaryllis sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "I'm so anxious, I feel like throwing up every minute. Do you know what I did during the emergency inventory? I wrote 'Geralt' instead of 'Gilbert'. All I can think about is how the hell I'm gonna find out the truth."

"Did you even tell them why they're here?"

"Not yet. But that's why I'm heading to the inn, so I can do that."

Sara sent her a somewhat amused look. "I can't believe I'm marrying someone who's hiding three strangers in her father's goat shed."

Amaryllis chuckled. "Well, Baby, I told you you were in for a wild ride."

Sara laughed and reached over to give her thigh a squeeze. "How are you planning to tell them?"

"Honestly. I will walk in there and tell them everything the same way I told you. Then... I don't know. I gotta figure out which one of them is the one. Preferably quickly."

"And how are you planning to tell your papa?"

Well, that was a great question, one that Amaryllis didn't quite know the answer to just yet. She didn't plan further ahead, to be frank. She sort of hoped that she would manage to find out the truth via clandestine meetings with the candidates, and by the time she had the answer she needed, she could bring him or her to Jaskier. Because deep in her heart, she also hoped that she could help rekindle that old flame with the "winner". Judging by the way Jaskier wrote about these three in his diary, it was clear he had very deep feelings for them. And since they all rushed here when they thought Jaskier wrote to them, it seemed like they weren't quite neutral about him, either.

Maybe Amaryllis could find that passionate, deep love for her papa that she knew he deserved.

"I'll figure it out," she replied, staring out the window with a sigh. She could only hope this will go without a hitch.

"Oh, by the way," Sara said as she parked outside of the inn, "my mom is taking the wedding planner role away from your papa."

"What do you mean?"

"She invited some band. Something... Huh. I forgot their name. I just know that their frontman used to be a theater kid who made it big."

"I hope it's not Valdo Marx and his band," Amaryllis rolled her eyes. She's never met the guy but she hated him on principle because of his past with her father. But that would have been too weird of a coincidence, so there was no way.

Sara shrugged, clueless about the music scene as always. It made Amaryllis smile.

"I gotta deal with the goat shed situation," she said, leaning over to tuck one of Sara's dreadlocks behind her ear. "I'll call you when I'm done, okay?"

"Good luck," Sara chuckled, then kissed her fiancée on the lips. "Refrain from doing any more drastic stuff."

"Can't promise anything."

Amaryllis took a deep breath after she got out of the car. She gave Sara one last wave before she drove away, then, she cracked her neck and started walking.

She didn't get very far because she nearly peed her pants when someone yelled at her.

"Hold it!"

Amaryllis stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around slowly, coming face to face with Jaskier who marched towards her, his eyes murderous.

"Papa?" Amaryllis tried weakly. Jaskier put his hands on his hips as he glared at her.

"What were you thinking," Jaskier started, his voice wavering slightly before he pulled himself together. "What was the plan, huh?"

"I... I don't know what..."

"Don't play dumb with me, Amaryllis, we both know you're too smart for that. Tell me, what went through your head when you decided to write letters in my name and send them to my ex lovers."

Shit. Amaryllis felt her heart drop when she realized what happened.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, ducking her head down, "I know it was stupid, but..."

"Have you stopped for a second to consider how I would feel?"

The genuine pain in Jaskier's voice made Amaryllis's heart clench. She didn't dare look him in the eyes.

"That dragging three people I used to be romantically involved with here, after decades, may not make me too happy? How long were you going to keep this from me, by the way?"

"I wanted to tell you after I figured out who's the other parent," Amaryllis said, feeling stupider by the moment. What sounded like a cool idea first was now looking out to be the worst mistake she's ever made.

"How?" Jaskier scoffed. "And then, what? They escort you to your wedding, walk you down the aisle and then piss off from the island?"

"No," Amaryllis looked up. She bit her lip when she saw tears in Jaskier's eyes. "I was hoping that... you and my other parent would..."

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "That we would what?"

"That maybe you would get together again," Amaryllis whispered. Jaskier released a shaky breath before he cursed under his nose quietly.

"Wonderful idea. Absolutely peachy."

The sarcastic tone of his voice dropped to a pained one. "How could you do this to me? And them? God, especially them! Now they have to deal with the knowledge that they may have an adult kid they didn't even know about!"

Amaryllis's eyes widened in horror, and she could feel all the blood rush to her head.

"You... you told them why they're here?"

"Sorry for stealing your thunder," Jaskier scoffed. "I mean, that's why they're here. I bet they're all very happy with this information. They're probably doing a circle dance as we speak."

Amaryllis groaned. She did not mean for everything to collapse like that - this was meant to have a more natural progression, in which this information was passed over more sensitively. But she may have expected too much. After this idiotic scheme that she pulled, she should've probably seen things would turn on their head.

"Papa, I'm so sorry," Amaryllis whispered. She swallowed heavily. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Jaskier sighed. He shook his head, shoulders slumping. He looked so tired, so defeated, and it was all Amaryllis's fault. God, she wanted to slap herself for this.

"I'm not mad at you," Jaskier said quietly, "but I'm very disappointed. Because you stole my diary, and you lied to these three poor sods who could've merrily gone on with their lives otherwise, and now we have to figure out what to do."

He looked at Amaryllis with another sigh. "I guess we can't just send them home after a revelation like that."

"What do I do now, Papa?" Amaryllis whimpered, tears running down her face. She felt like a child again, who made a huge mess and then pleaded for her father to help fix the things she broke. Like the vases in the lobby, Jaskier's acoustic guitar - and now his heart.

"I don't know," Jaskier whispered. He wiped at his face before he reached out and wiped off Amaryllis's tears as well. "I need to be alone now a little bit."

"Do you hate me now?" Amaryllis cried. Jaskier shook his head as he pulled her into a hug. Amaryllis hid her face in his neck as she sobbed.

"I could never," Jaskier promised. "But this was a shitty thing to do, and we have to untangle this mess somehow."

He pulled back, giving Amaryllis's arm one last squeeze.

"I think you should go and talk to them. They deserve to hear it from you, as well."

Amaryllis nodded. She hoped there was a way to fix this at all.

--

Jaskier slumped down on the stairs with a heavy sigh. He was sure he looked a sight with his red-rimmed eyes and smeared eyeliner.

He fiddled with his fingers as his thoughts raced in his head. Old emotions, deeply buried memories danced through his mind, mixed with new, confusing feelings. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do now.

"You okay? No, obviously not. What a stupid question."

Jaskier whipped around at the voice, confused. He recognized the blonde teenage girl he's seen in the lobby before. He tried his best to give her a convincing smile.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," she said, "but I overheard you fighting with your daughter."

"That's okay," Jaskier waved a dismissive hand, "we're gonna be okay."

The girl sat next to him on the stairs. For a few moments, she didn't say anything.

"I'm Ciri," she eventually said with a little smile. She radiated a sort of positive energy that made Jaskier smile despite the turmoil inside him.

"Jaskier."

"I know."

Jaskier quirked an eyebrow at him. Ciri grinned.

"I know a lot."

"Kind of ominous, but okay," Jaskier chuckled. Ciri shrugged.

"I've met Amaryllis. She's really sweet."

"You have?"

"Yeah. She dropped me off in the lobby before she took my dad and the other two to the goat shed, and I'm not telling on her now because you found out already."

Jaskier's attention caught on one single word, a word that made his eyes widen.

"Your dad?"

"Geralt," Ciri clarified. Jaskier blinked at her. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Ciri didn't seem to notice his bewilderment.

"I knew there was something between you two in the past even before we came here. He was in such a frenzy when he got the letter. All blushy and everything."

"Okay, wait," Jaskier croaked, "let's recap, shall we? Geralt... he's your father?"

"Yeah."

Jaskier counted to ten in his head to make sure he wouldn't curse like a sailor in front of a child.

"And...where's your mom? Or your other father?" Jaskier asked, already dreading the answer. Of course, Geralt had a family in the meantime. Of course, he got married and had a kid. Like he deserved, obviously. But the idea that Geralt was mated to someone still caused a spike of jealousy to flare up inside him, for some reason.

"I don't know," Ciri said. "I'm adopted."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he adopted me when I was ten. I was passed from foster parents to foster parents before he took me in. He's awkward. And a hermit. But I love him, and he's a great dad."

Jaskier tried his best to stop imagining a ten years old Amaryllis getting a piggyback ride from Geralt. He bit down on his lip, hard.

"Okay," he whispered once he felt like he managed to pull himself together a little. "Well, that's good to know."

"I think he still has feelings for you," Ciri said casually while she fished around in her pocket for something. She offered a little tube to a gaping Jaskier. "Chewing gum?"

"No, thanks," Jaskier could barely get the words out. His mind was whirring like an industry machine as he tried to comprehend what Ciri just told him.

"What...what makes you think that?"

"They all do, actually. Nearly got into a fight over you on the boat. Growling at each other and everything."

Now, this really shouldn't have made him feel satisfied. Damn his stupid Omega hormones that made him nearly purr at the thought.

Yeah, his head was really confused and he needed to straighten it out.

"It was kinda fun," Ciri admitted with a giggle. "Dad even growled at his ex."

"His what?" Jaskier choked out. Ciri nodded, blowing a bubble of her gum simply, as if she didn't keep causing Jaskier mini heart attacks with everything she said.

"Yennefer. They dated, too. And you also dated all of them, so, that must be pretty tough."

'Tough' couldn't even begin to describe what Jaskier thought of this situation. He put his head in his hands, trying not to pass out. He still hoped this was just a bad dream, and he would wake up, and see that none of this happened.

"Does Amaryllis know you're Geralt's daughter?" Jaskier asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"I don't know," Ciri said, a little confused. "Why does it matter?"

Jaskier sighed. He wasn't sure how to put into words what the knowledge that Geralt had a child meant to him, and he had no idea how Amaryllis would feel about it, either. But then again, Geralt didn't even know of Amaryllis's existence up until this point, and he had every right to move on. With Yennefer (another weird bit of information), or anyone else.

"That's a conversation you need to have with your dad," Jaskier replied. He twisted one of his rings around his finger with a groan.

"It matters," Ciri started, her voice a little forlorn, "because she thinks maybe my dad is her dad, too, right?"

"God," Jaskier sighed, "I hate that so many people got dragged into this."

"It's weird," Ciri admitted softly. "That maybe my father has another kid. That maybe I have a sister. Or maybe not, if she's Yennefer's or Radovid's. Don't look at me like that, I told you I overheard you. And I kind of managed to put some pieces together on my own, anyways."

She reached out and patted Jaskier's shoulder a little awkwardly.

"I guess I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the shitstorm."

"Thanks," Jaskier whispered. Ciri hummed, before she got up and left, leaving Jaskier alone with the most intense emotions he has ever felt in his entire life.

--

It felt like there was no more oxygen left in the shed. Geralt's head pounded as he sat down on a box with a heavy sigh. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans.

Nobody said anything, and Geralt didn't blame the other two, at all. He also had no clue what he was supposed to say after what they just found out.

He looked at Yennefer who had her hands clenched into fists. Her face was a mask of sheer agony as she kicked a cabbage that fell out of the bucket. The goats leapt after it with a happy bleat.

Geralt knew from the time he spent dating her, that it was smarter not to speak to her right now.

He glanced towards Radovid who had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes distant and exhausted.

Geralt stood from the box and stepped over to him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, not completely sure why. He didn't even know why he suddenly felt like talking, considering he was very good with silence, usually. He might have wanted someone else to put what he felt into words, since he couldn't.

"After I found out I might have an illegitimate child?" Radovid sighed. "Not very great."

"Of course the guy who named his tarantula Franz Joseph would say illegitimate," Geralt chuckled. There was a fleeting smile on Radovid's face, before it turned into a frown again.

"How do you feel knowing that Ciri might have a sister?"

Geralt hummed. "Shitty, I guess. Not even sure why."

"I know why," Yennefer chimed in with a huff. "Because we deserved to know. I've wanted a kid for so long, and maybe I actually have one, but I didn't even have half the chance to meet them."

"Okay, let's not pin all of this on Jaskier," Radovid said, "he must have been terrified."

Yennefer's shoulders dropped, and she let out a sigh. "You're right. This wasn't fair of me."

"It's understandable you feel emotional," Geralt told her softly. Yennefer looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "We all do, after this. And we all need to figure out how to cope."

They heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. They all turned around to see Amaryllis in the door of the shed, shifting from one foot to the other.

Geralt felt an indescribable emotion squeeze at his chest when he looked at her. She might have been his child. And even if not, she was a piece of that person he loved so much. The fact she looked so much like him didn't help.

"Hi," Amaryllis said quietly. Her nervous, but endearing chatter that they experienced at the docks was nowhere to be seen now.

"Hey," Geralt greeted her. Amaryllis tried to smile, but it wobbled badly.

"Uhm... I'm glad you all came, and... I think it's time we also talked. Like, actually talked."

"Yeah," Yennefer breathed. She tried to offer Amaryllis a smile of her own, but she also failed at it. Radovid didn't quite manage either.

Geralt closed his eyes and prayed that he would somehow wake up from this weird dream.

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #mamma mia au #my fic #geraskier #yennskier #radskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #a/b/o #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #Alpha yennefer #beta radovid

[chococococya]

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom: Mairimashita! Iruma-kun

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Belial Berry Razberry/Original Female Character, Asmodeus Alice & Suzuki Iruma & Valac Clara

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Suzuki Iruma, Asmodeus Alice, Valac Clara, Abnormal Class | Misfit Class (Mairimashita! Iruma-kun), Asmodeus Amaryllis, Azazel Ameri, LordBeliard (Mairimashita! Iruma-kun), Belial-Berry Razberry

Additional Tags: Original Character(s)Original Character-centric, Magic, Dracula Influence/References, Castlevania References, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

“Doesn’t she come from a family of librarians? Always reading books, that’s so dull.”

Ridicule is no stranger to Paulina, and the feeling of inadequacy is an old companion of hers. The Ars Clan do not have the best of reputation due to their livelihood. But Paulina can’t imagine herself being born in a different family. Caretaker of books, protector of secrets, keeper of memories. That is the role her family takes up in this harsh world. Theirs is not less important than the warriors on the frontlines or silver tongued diplomats. But it does wear one’s spirit down to be told repeatedly that they are not enough. So a girl with braided hair and freckles folded into herself and stayed in place. Paulina believed she was content with being another librarian in a family full of them, until a chance encounter at Devillum made her realise that perhaps she desire for more.

(In which a young demon finds her ambition, consults perhaps too many books, and learns to stand on her own two feet, while the darkness from the deepest crevices of the Netherworld slowly creeps in.)

#my writing #mairimashita iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school! iruma kun

[niconeekokneecaps-fics]

okay so, @niconeekokneecaps and @harry-potter-rarepairs are my main accounts but I don’t want to fill them up with my fanfic content so I made a new blog to post about my own fanfics and their updates, etc.

I’ve currently got 4 WIPs and 2 rewrites to be working on, not to mention all of the chatfics I never continued from like a year ago, but I’ll get to the eventually. I’m going to make a whole different post about Safe With You because there are many OCs in that one. I will also make a separate post for Orphic. :)

My current WIPs:

Finding Out The Future (FOTF)

FOTF is set in GoF where the entire school and some guests are reacting to the 8 movies. Harry is genderbent by the name of Amaryllis (cause flower name) and eventually will end up with George. George is a werewolf cause I got bored and was thinking of the plot that could go with that.

I might write a version of FOTF where George isn’t a werewolf. I’d just have to adjust some things here and there. Anyway, at the time I’m making this post, I’ve just got past when the trio find Fluffy for the first time - Chapter 6. I will start posting it on AO3 when I have finished the first movie.

Safe With You

Safe With You is a George Weasley x Male!OC called Apollo Hale beginning in PoA. I originally had about 3 chapters written, but then decided to rewrite it so I only have 1 right now, but I’m working on it.

Apollo has a twin sister, is a Ravenclaw and is best friends with a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff.

Orphic

Another George Weasley x Male!MC. Also includes Fred Weasley x Genderfluid!OC. MC is called Corvus Black and the genderfluid OC is called Leo/Cassie Tonks. Corvus is the son of Sirius Black and is a Ravenclaw. Leo/Cassie is a Hufflepuff. :)

There is currently about 2 chapters written.

Surprise

Remus Lupin x Male!OC - OC is called Matt Ashford and is the son of a Quidditch player. 2 chapters currently written. Many OCs for Matt’s friend group.

Matt is a Ravenclaw and on the Quidditch team. Matt is a Prefect and Quidditch Captain as well. His friends are spread out through all 4 houses too. :)

#harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #george weasley x male oc #remus lupin x male oc #george x harry #firebolt #harry x george #oc

[gracie7209]

chapter 6 was SO freaking good. you mentioned flow, but as some positive feedback, i thought it was a perfect slow burn. the way they didn’t even say anything to one another in the beginning and just spoke through actions? such good writing on your end describing it. everything was FANTASTIC and spicy, and cannot wait for chapter 7! keep up the great work.

Thank you so much ☺️

I see people do it all the time where they’ve spent so much time on something that they’re not even sure if it’s good etc and that’s what I ran into here. I think I just read over it so much that I couldn’t be objective anymore so I was just like “well, here ya go,” 😂

I really do appreciate the feedback as it just helps keep me focused :)

I’m so glad you’re enjoying it and I’m excited to get to the next part ❤️

#amaryllis ask #amaryllis chapter 6 #ask answered #thank you anon!

[perpetualimaginings]

~My Stories~

- on A03 & ff.net 🖤

- tip jar 🍯

Back To You

58k. Bamon one-shots + ficlets. Bonnie & Damon fall in love again and again, in all different ways.

Completed! Multi-chapter:

Amaryllis

17k. Canon. 6 years after the S8 finale, Bonnie has a daughter, human!Damon, slow burn, a lil angst but mostly fluffy family goodness.

Something there (that wasn't there before)

30k. Post prison world slow burn, friends to lovers, angstyyy, love triangles.

I wonder why (I didn't see it there before)

7k. Sequel to 'Something There.' Fluff, hints of angst, but ultimately healing.

Stefan the Bamon Shipper

20k. Comedy, pining, Steroline are fun, fluffy with a sprinkling of angst. Miss Cuddles is the MVP.

Anything to add, Bonnie?

7.5k. Sexy Professor Salvatore and a flustered Bonnie Bennett. Cute, light angst.

If You See Her...

13k. Reader insert, Damon, Elijah, Klaus. Loosely inspired by Your Name.

+ more one-shots to be found on my author page...

#bamon #tvd #bamon fanfic #bamily #bonnie x damon #bamon shippers club #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #bamon fic rec #bamon au #bamon fanfiction

[amara-among-the-stars]

Heres chapter six of dont you go (revised)

And here it is under the read more

Mountain brought Amaryllis to a cute restaurant;both clad in their human glamor they made their way to their table with their waitress. Mountain, ever the gentleman he was, pulled out Amaryllis’ chair before sitting himself. Right away they ordered some red wine and an appetizer while they looked over the menu.

“This all looks so delicious Mo, I can’t decide what to get!” Amaryllis exclaimed. Mountain nodded as he took a sip of wine.

“I was thinking of getting the steak and potatoes since Copia gave me the credit card… Would you like the same?” Mountain asked. Amaryllis looked over the menu once more before deciding.

“Steak sounds good but I think I might go for the burger.” Amara replied. Mountain grinned at his partner, knowing that she would most likely get a medium rare burger. They ordered their food shortly with more wine. The waitress was shamelessly flirting up a storm with Mountain who didn’t really pay much attention to her. Amaryllis preened a bit at the fact that Mountain seemed to ignore the human. The earth ghoul really only seemed to only be interested in Amaryllis and that made the ghoulette’s heart flutter. They ate and chatted, finally getting the chance to just sit and enjoy each other's company.

“What did you do while we were gone?” Mountain asked, stealing some fries off Amaryllis’ plate. She playfully swatted at him and stole a bite of his cheesy mashed potatoes before answering her lover.

“I spent a lot of time with Primo helping in the gardens, and I helped Sister Imperator with a lot of things too. She can be stern in meetings, but it’s fun watching her make the older humans squirm in their seat. Also helped out the Elder members of the church and spent a lot of time with Sister Rosie - She’s near Primo’s age and likes him I think.” Amaryllis rambled on. Mountain smiled as Amaryllis talked about the happenings around the ministry.

Their waitress came up once more and interrupted the conversation.

“Hello handsome! Would you like more wine? Maybe a phone number as well?” The girl asked. Amara shot the waitress a dirty look as she was blatantly ignored.

“Uh. I'll pass on getting a phone number, but my girlfriend and I would like another bottle of wine.” Mountain answered. The waitress rolled her eyes and walked away with a huff. Amaryllis had a large grin on her face and got up and gave Mountain a kiss on the lips. He looked a bit surprised but kissed her back.

“I love you.” Amaryllis whispered, settling back in her seat to finish her meal. Mountain had a wide grin on his face and if his tail was out and now glamoured it would be flicking back and forth excitedly.

“I love you too, my Starshine. To the moon and back.” Mountain replied, reaching over the table to grab Amaryllis’ hand and kiss it. She let out a giggle as she took her hand back.

“Keep buttering me up like that and you'll know what happens next.” Amaryllis teased. Mountain winked at her as he sipped his wine.

“That’s the plan, Doll.” He responded. The dinner was smooth sailing afterwards. The pair teased and flirted with each other and soon they were on their way back to the ministry. Amara ended up with Mountain’s sweater around her shoulders as they giggled and talked, swinging their entangled hands together. The den was quiet when they walked in and Mountain teasingly asked Amara to come to his room.

“You'll have to catch me then Sir.” Amara coyly replied, breaking away from Mountain’s hold. Mountain let out a low growl and chased after her. He finally caught her and pressed her against the door to his room; giving her a harsh kiss to her lips as he picked her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist as he maneuvered the door open, almost stumbling as Mountain carried her to his bed.

“Don't tease Amaryllis. I’d much rather be pulling on your thighs as you take my cock in that tight cunt of yours.” Mountain growled, moving to make a deep mark on Amaryllis neck. She let out a high pitch moan and raked her nails against his neck and back.

“Mount. Fuck me. Need you in me.” She panted, rubbing herself against Mountain’s front, the tip of his clothed cock rubbing against her slick core from their position. Mountain let out a growl and bit down harder on her neck as he adjusted them, ripping her pants basically off, panties included. Amara clumsily unbuttoned his pants and Mountain lifted his hips off to pull them down; his hands going back to her hips and helping her sink down onto his length. Amaryllis let out a high keen as she felt him stretch her out, clenching down.

“Fucking tight cunt belongs to me.” Mountain growled out as he snapped his hips. All Amaryllis could do was moan and whimper as Mountain thrusted into her. Baring his fangs Mountain let out a snarl as he knotted Amaryllis, satisfied when he felt her clench down and the shudder of her body telling him she had finished as well. Gently he maneuvered them away from the large wet spot on the bed, Mountain trailing his fingers softly on Amaryllis, shoulders.

“You’re so good to me Flower.” Mountain whispered against her ear. She smiled dopily up at him, mind a bit fuzzy.

“I try to be.” Amaryllis whispers as she closes her eyes. Mountain would clean them both later once his knot goes down, ensuring neither of them wouldn’t drop as well. Mountain was content for now with his lover in his arms.

#amara writes #dont you go #mountain ghoul #amaryllis ghoulette #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

[only-lonely-stars]

A Bride for the Prince (Chapter 5 - Uncontested Connection)

[Prologue] // [Chapter 4 of 9] // [Chapter 5 of 9 - you are here!] // [Chapter 6 of 9] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of the @ninjago-fairy-tale-au!

Summary:

Once upon a time, there lived a faithful and hardworking girl named Pixal Borg, who worked every day to satisfy her demanding stepmother. For years, she cleaned and cooked, giving no argument, until the day came when she met the prince. A Pixane Cinderella retelling.

Chapter summary:

The second day of the festival comes around, with Zane and Pixal spending every minute of it together.

On the second day of the festival, Pixal did not ask at all to attend.

When her stepmother and sisters left, she put on a great show of sadness, pretending that she would be forlorn. Her stepsisters jeered, thinking they had won some great victory, and Pixal bore their cutting words with a ducked head. Amaryllis likewise threatened, warning Pixal of the consequences if she left the estate. Before long, they had left, girls conversing all about their plans to meet the prince properly that day while Pixal watched them go.

Once they were gone, Pixal immediately went to her sisters' rooms. In Begonia's closet she found a lovely dress of white and gold, which she had worn in many months, with a sweetheart neckline that dipped low yet was not scandalous. It fit Pixal perfectly, and she happily twirled, so that its skirt flared out, the white fabric reflecting the light in almost blinding intensity. Upon it she laid her new overskirt, such that the gown looked perfectly new, unlike either of her sisters' garments– another layer of anonymity. The final touch was her jewelry and her hair, not having any makeup with which to decorate her face.

In the mirror, the lady that looked back at her smiled, hopeful and light. So unlike Pixal, with jewelry and styled hair, she looked like a proper socialite. She watched the skirts flare out as she spun, and thought she had never looked so lovely, knowing she might never see herself like this after the festival. To her glee, her stepsisters would never know, and today would be a wonderful day for her.

Once she had dressed herself in borrowed finery, Pixal left for the festival, a spring in her step and her spellbook under her arm. Just like the previous day, she brought herself there with the power of her enchanted smoke. She found herself near the dancing pavilion, just like the previous day, and hid her book. Then she was drawn by the sound of music and laughter.

At the pavilion the dancing was quick, even so early in the morning. Instead of immediately joining, Pixal decided was content to at least watch the dancers for a while, until she heard an announcer's voice crying out a message at the end of one of the musicians' sets.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" cried the herald. "There shall now be a contest! Gentlemen, ladies, pair up. The finest dancer from each side will be crowned King and Queen of the Dance! Mind you, an ornamental title." The crowd laughed. "Long live King Julien; may the best dancer win!"

Pixal looked around. Sure enough, a few people were filtering onto the pavilion– men and women in their prime, and some children and elders. Whom could she pair with, when she had again come alone? Everyone seemed as though they had already chosen.

As she surveyed the competition, she spotted a tall and fair-haired man approaching her, seemingly intent on asking her to be his partner. While he neared her, she noticed that he looked familiar, but for a moment she could not place his name. However, his face became recognizable when he came very close, and she realized with a start as he neared her.

Prince Zane cleared his throat and smiled. "Good morning, my lady Pansy."

-----

On the second day of the festival, Prince Zane was even more tired than the first, yet he found himself happy to be such.

Part of his exhaustion was due to the previous day's tournament, as was always the case with such events. His joust had been near perfect, so the opponent had fallen within the first few strikes. It was clear that Zane was the most skilled jouster of the night, but the impact still left his shoulder sore and reeling. This was not to say that the audience had not enjoyed watching, for that could not have possibly been the case.

After it was done, Cryptor had pulled him aside and warned him of some rumors that he had expected. "How could the prince not have chosen a lady he fancied yet? There were so many to see," people had asked. Zane had sighed and told Cryptor the truth, to the advisor's understanding.

It was true that he had no favour, of course, but it was not a source of shame for the prince. There had been no shortage of ladies who offered, some more surreptitious than others– he distinctly remembered two sisters with matching auburn hair, decked in ornate flowery gowns and gaudy jewelry that practically dripped from them, frantically offering anything they could. It had been a particular struggle to turn the many ladies away, but nevertheless he did, knowing his favour would only be for a lady he was truly considering for courtship. Then he had jousted, free of any womanly marking, as if advertising his openness with no small amount of self-consciousness.

There was only one woman whom he had asked for her favour. She was the fair-haired Lady Pansy from the dance pavilion, with whom he had spent the afternoon. She had been intelligent, well-versed in sciences and every manner of humanities, and modest, not having been anything like the frantic ladies he had turned away while jousting. In fact, she had not even considered giving him a favour until he asked, and even then she did not give one. So unburdened with material things, she had only wished him luck. How could a lady like her have come to the festival?

The memory of her made him smile, a warmth blooming in his chest as he made his plans for the day. If he were only able to meet her again today, perhaps he would know if she were the one he was meant to choose. Perhaps she was royal material– if she was, maybe he would feel that connection once again.

With those very thoughts in mind, he had made his way to the dance pavilion early that festival day, in hopes that he might catch a glimpse of her. He searched the crowd, looking for a flash of purple or of her light hair.

As he hoped, there Pansy stood, looking even lovelier than the day before. Just like yesterday, he found that she was at the pavilion, having just arrived when they announced the morning contest. She was wearing a splendid golden gown, her hair pinned back with that same silver hairclip, eye-catching and yet attracting no attention. Instead, she seemed content to watch the dancers, smiling appreciatively.

Zane decided he would ask her to dance as soon as possible, but found no pause in the music, so stayed himself. It was about when he decided to ask her to dance without any more delay when the herald announced a contest, in which the best dancers would be honorary royalty. A more perfect opportunity could not be found, so he strove to speak to her. He came toward her, his heart beating hard against his ribcage, determined to ask her to dance again.

When he was within a few feet of her, he cleared his throat to catch her attention and bowed, careful to be at his most poised. "Good morning, my lady Pansy."

Pixal turned and curtsied, appearing surprised surprised by his approach. "Your Highness! Good morning to you as well."

Zane smiled, mentally taking note of her grace, even in such an unfavorable position– the mark of a queenly woman. "If I may ask, do you intend to take part in the contest this morning?"

Pixal looked wistfully at the pavilion, and then back at him. "I would like to, yes." She seemed lost. "Do you, your Highness?"

"I would, yes." Zane looked over and back, just like she had. "I must admit that I quite enjoyed our dances from yesterday. May I be so bold as to ask if you have chosen a partner yet?"

She shook her head. "I have not. I came alone, again."

Zane's heart beat fast, and he felt hot, filled with anticipation. Though neither knew, Pixal felt the same, her heart racing as she tried to push down her girlish hopes.

From the dredges of his chest, Zane gathered his courage. "If that is the case, would you be interested in another dance with me?"

"I do not wish to impose," she edged, hesitant even in her excitement. "I'm sure there are many ladies who would wish to dance with your Highness."

"Then it is most unfortunate for them that I do not wish to dance with another woman." He offered his hand. "The choice is yours, my lady."

"If so, then I accept." She took his hand, cherishing the touch of his cool hand. "It would be my honor to dance with you again."

Together, the two walked to the pavilion, where a series of dancing groups had formed. Each was a set of four– two gentlemen and two ladies, facing each other. Each group was given a number, which was to be their identifier for the contest. Pixal memorized theirs, which was eight: her lucky number, perfectly balanced and square.

When all the contestants were assembled, the herald cried out again. "Let the dance begin!"

The dance began simply, with every dancer in each group putting a hand together to create a four-pointed star. From there, they stepped in and out, weaving together seamlessly as the music kept them in time. In and out, skirts swayed and coattails danced.

At one point, Zane took Pixal's hand, and they passed through a narrow corridor of other dancers. Each other pair did the same after them. After that came a spin, after which the dance started again, smiles upon everyone's faces.

Throughout the music's many rounds, Pixal and Zane's eyes rarely left each other, and time seemed to disappear into the music. They shared many smiles, the routine actions of the dance quickly becoming a backdrop between them as they cherished the synchrony. However, within only a few minutes, the music faded away and the herald cried out again.

"The first round ends here! Groups one, ten, five, and four are to be removed. Thank you for your beautiful dancing!"

The named groups left the pavilion, with no lack of laughter among them, as the elderly and children mingled. When only six groups of four remained, they closed in on the center of the floor. Then the music started again, a little faster.

In the succeeding dances, things became more complicated. The dance moved faster and faster with every bar, with quick spinning and united movement becoming all that could be seen.

Pixal found herself laughing as Zane spun her in and out, the feeling of her hand in his growing ever more natural. They stepped and turned in time, mimicking and mirroring each other with remarkable ease.

It felt impossible, but Pixal knew that their connection was nothing short of miraculous. Zane likewise thought so, unknowing of her reasoning, and for a few short seconds thought it was possible for him to not be so set on a life of bachelorhood. Such was the way that both completely lost track of the dance and its time, until it came to a sudden end.

As they caught their bearings, they noticed that only two other dancers remained on the floor, those being another pair. At this realization, Pixal's blood ran cold. Anyone could see her with the prince, including her family. Would they torment her more for her situation? However, the prince seemed to be completely at ease, ignoring the eyes drawn to them. He was no doubt comfortable with attention, as he coolly smiled at her and surveyed their surroundings.

Just as she began to wonder how she might explain her situation, however, she was startled out of her reverie by Zane.

Prince Zane had been looking around, watching the herald as he prepared his horn for the announcement of the victor. Seemingly sensing Pixal's stress, he looked back to her, and he took her hand gently. As if he were just remembering his manners, he kissed the back of her hand, lingering only moments before letting her hand fall again.

"For competition or not, it was an honor dancing with you, Lady Pansy," he whispered. Her cheeks darkened, but before she could respond, the herald began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you very much for your participation!" he cried gleefully. "Your dancing was beautiful, but there can be but one Queen." He looked between the two couples on the floor. "Our ever-wise judges have made a decision."

Pixal looked at the other couple, a pair of an older man and woman, deceptively nimble for their ages. Then she looked back to the herald, who held up a small piece of paper.

"The winners of the festival dance competition are the young lady in the gold and white dress, and her partner!" he announced. Pixal looked around as she heard a smattering of applause, and then curtsied as Zane bowed. The herald beckoned her forward and set a crown of flowers on her head. He asked her name, which she whispered in his ear.

When he had had heard it, the herald presented her to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Lady Pansy!"

-----

After receiving her congratulations, Pixal quickly vacated the pavilion alone, feeling as if she had been dancing on air. Just like the day before, dancing with the prince had been nothing short of magical, and today was just like it in that manner. She could not believe the chances of him seeking her out! If she ever told them, Begonia and Columbine would think that she was bribing him, or otherwise buying his favor.

As she caught her bearings, a sinking feeling made itself known in her chest. She was Pixal, not Pansy any longer, and it felt dishonest to give him a name she no longer wore. If the prince knew she had lied, he would no doubt be disgusted with her behavior, she thought. How would she face him again, if she was to see him in the future? One does not simply lie to nobility, much less royalty.

As she thought about it more, the idea made her feel sick. However, she was unable to tarry on it for very long, as she spied the prince nearing her. Despite her traitorous heart, she walked toward him, attempting to push down her discomfort. There they stood alone, looking at each other.

Prince Zane smiled as he saw her, and it was so handsome she could not help but smile back. "Prince Zane, I must thank you for the dance. You were magnificent."

"As were you, my lady. It seems we have good chemistry."

"That it does."

"How did you learn to dance? You are most skilled."

"I taught myself, from books and stories." She took off the flower crown, examining it. "I do not feel fit to wear this crown," she added halfheartedly.

"If not you, then who might?" the prince asked, smiling. "Your talent is unmistakeable."

"You flatter me."

Zane laughed quietly. "I speak truth, and truth alone." He took the crown from her hands and set it gently on her head, arraying it so the blooms framed her face. "I am more than willing to be without a crown for the day, if a lady like yourself would wear it instead."

For a moment, they stood there, not knowing what to say. He felt a blush crawling up his neck, and while it embarrassed him, he finally gathered his courage and spoke again.

"Have you seen the extent of the festival grounds yet?"

"I have not," she admitted.

"Would you like to see them, then?" The prince offered his hand.

Pixal took it, enjoying the newly familiar feeling. "...I would love to."

-----

Throughout the morning and afternoon, Pixal and Zane did not part any more than they had to, close at hand to each other most of the time. Like the first festival day, they talked at length about any number of topics, whether they were delving into minutiae about their favorite topics. However, they also lapsed into comfortable silence, only to be broken when he had to skirt a situation where he would be recognized too much, much to their amusement. They spent the day walking and talking, relaxing in gardens and playing games.

At one point, the two came upon a set of merchant stalls laden with all sorts of lovely things. With a shared smile, the two looked upon the things on display. Pixal paused as she saw a gold necklace, made of a fine chain decorated with a snowflake pendant that spun and sparkled in the light. As she examined it, Zane came up next to her.

"What are you looking at, lady Pansy?" he asked.

"This necklace is beautiful," Pixal said with a smile.

He smiled back at her. "It is."

"Fragile things like this are so lovely." She took it in her fingers, gently handling the metal. "They do not always last."

The merchant came up to them. "Ah, my lady, you have good taste. That article is one of my finest creations."

"It is beautiful," Zane interjected. "Did you make it yourself, sir?"

"I did indeed. I ask three gold pieces for it, if you wish to buy it." The merchant's eye twinkled.

Zane paused, considering it. He glanced at Pixal. "What do you think? It is a lovely necklace."

She smiled, ignoring how her stomach flipped. "It is. If you were to give it to someone, I imagine that lady would be touched."

"Very well." With a smile, he took a few coins from some hidden pocket and placed them in the merchant's hand. Seemingly noticing the delicacy of the situation, the merchant said nothing, only nodding his head as he stepped back into his stall.

Zane looked back to Pixal. "Do you like it, lady Pansy?"

She nodded hesitantly. "You need not buy me such a gift, your Highness..."

"Nonsense. It would only make you look more beautiful."

She ducked her head in slight embarrassment. "Very well."

"May I?"

"Yes, you may."

The prince smiled and walked around to behind her. He laid the necklace across her neck, cool metal resting lightly, and clasped it behind her neck. When he was done, she turned to look him in the eyes.

"Thank you."

He smiled graciously and asked if she would like to continue on, and so they did.

That day, laughter was no rarity between them, even as such tender moments came to pass. Both felt peace with their situation, happy to spend the day together and knowing that such a thing was a rarity at best in their lives. Pixal thought such a feeling could not come again, and so cherished that second day, not thinking a third would come. Zane likewise cherished the second day, wondering if perhaps this was the feeling he could always have, unaware of her misgivings. However, they eventually reached the point where they had to part, when Zane was to join that day's tournament.

"My lady, I asked you this question yesterday, so please forgive me for repeating myself."

"Questions are so rarely negative things," she responded with a smile. "By all means, Prince Zane, ask."

The sound of his title from her mouth was not an unpleasant one, but he did not tarry on thinking about it. Instead, he took her hand. "Lady Pansy, for tonight's tournament, would you honor me today with a favour?"

Her eyes grew wide, and for a moment she could not meet his. "I'm sorry, your Highness," she began, "but I have no favour for you. I did not realize I would receive the honor of seeing you again today, much less you asking for one."

He nodded, resignation creeping into his mind, though he ignored it. "Very well, my lady. I understand."

She impulsively took his hand in both of hers. "Please understand, Prince Zane! If I had a favour I could give you, I would." The look of resignation mixed with hope upon his face made her heart clench. "I will have one tomorrow, if you would wish it," she added, if only to wipe away the puzzlement he seemed to feel.

The prince smiled in understanding, emotions clearing in favor of appreciation. "Very well; I shall be patient for you. Forgive me for asking such a distressing question." He kissed her hand, gentle and lingering a little too long. "Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, my lady Pansy. I hope to see you tomorrow, for the final day of the festival."

"The honor is mine, Prince Zane. I shall see you tomorrow?"

He smiled, sincerity filling his every fiber. "Yes, but please, my lady– call me Zane."

She turned her head in curiosity. "What does Zane stand for?"

The prince laughed quietly. "It stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten the Commonwealth– other than that, nothing." His smile turned self-conscious. "I am just Zane."

"Very well…" She smiled at him, examining his eyes and how they reminded her of shattered ice. "I shall see you tomorrow, just Zane."

"Likewise, my lady."

-----

As he entered the jousting arena, Prince Zane could only say one thing definitely: Lady Pansy was the model woman he was looking for, and he would not waste time on the final festival day in asking to court her.

In his mind, Pixal met every criterion he had previously thought about. She was intelligent, clever, wise and well-versed, but also funny and engaging. In all these ways, she reminded him of his mother, the late queen. Unlike all the women he had met in these two days besides her, she never once pestered him about his royal life; her only questions had been simple and curious. "Have you enjoyed traveling to the other kingdoms? Do you do much diplomatic work? Have you met many interesting people?" Every answer was easily given, and they seemed to only fuel her interest, which made him ever more happy to converse with her. He scarcely thought he could find another lady like her.

He stifled a quiet laugh as he entered the jousting arena, composing himself for his public appearance as he thought of her questions and jokes. If he could only ask Lady Pansy's family name, he would ask her father for the chance to court her. As it stood, he could not, only knowing that she was unpromised to anyone. However, that would change, for he would ask.

When he reached the stables, he ran into his advisor Cryptor, who was waiting for him with his jousting armor and his horse, a white stallion named Shard. Upon seeing his face, Cryptor greeted him with a sly smile.

"My eyes deceive me, Prince Zane! You look as if you have had a wonderful day. I can scarcely believe it."

Zane smiled back. "As a matter of fact, you should." He entered the paddock. "You would laugh if I told you what has happened today to make me so happy."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not."

"I was with a lady today." The prince flushed a tiny bit. "I met her yesterday, too, but did not think to tell you."

"Is that so?" Cryptor seemed amused. "What might this woman's name be?"

"Her name is Pansy, and she is the most interesting woman I have seen this entire festival." Zane began to put on his armor, still smiling. "There is never a lack of conversation. She is clever and intelligent, more so than many I have known."

"Might this woman be beautiful, too?" his advisor asked, laughter evident in his voice as he helped Zane don the heavy metal plating.

"Absolutely." Zane turned his head away, sighing deeply. "I do not think anyone could compare."

"You seem completely smitten, your Highness. Could it be that the prince has finally seen the light?"

"You say that as if I was blind before."

"You were, to the wonder that is the fairer half." At that comment, Zane rolled his eyes, and Cryptor laughed. "It is good to see you so happy."

"As soon as I can, I'm going to ask her father to court her," he admitted.

"I imagine he would not say no. Who is her father? One of the nobles?"

Zane did not answer, putting on his gauntlets.

Cryptor frowned. "Prince Zane, do you not know?"

He nodded. "I do not."

"How can you know she is the right woman to consider, then? Would her station not be a matter of concern? You are of royal blood, after all."

Zane shook his head. "My father does not care about station, and neither do I. If she is the one, she will be right, and nobility need not apply." Zane put on his breastplate with a satisfied click.

"Very well." Cryptor paused. "Does she know you are royalty?"

"She does, but it did not change her behavior. It was as if she were unburdened with care for any station." The prince smiled again. "In fact, she displayed no aversion in the slightest."

It was then that Cryptor asked his most burning question. "If she is so open to the possibility, then why do you have no favour for tonight's joust?"

The prince's face fell and he ducked his head to don his helmet. "She had no favour to give me, but it is no matter. I will ask her again tomorrow; she has promised to bring one."

Cryptor chuckled. "Tomorrow will be a busy day for you."

A determined presence fell over Zane. "So it shall."

-----

The night of the second festival day, Pixal again spelled herself back to the Borg estate, quickly hiding her spell book and overskirt away, as well as the dress and jewelry she had borrowed. She let her hair down and tied it back as she did normally. After she had finished and begun to clean, it was not very long before Amaryllis and her stepsisters entered the house, and she met them in the entryway. Like the day before, her sisters had no idea she had been there, but they complained to each other anyway.

"The prince had no favour again! He doesn't like any of us ladies!" Columbine whined.

Begonia scoffed. "Didn't you hear the rumor? He was dancing with some woman this morning, and then they walked off together!"

Pixal tried to hide her reaction, but a warmness spread through her, knowing that she had bested them in secret. "Is that a bad thing, per se? Perhaps they were having an enjoyable conversation."

"You don't understand, you stupid maid!" Columbine cried.

"He's supposed to meet his future wife, that's what this whole festival is about. If he's talking to just one, then he's already made up his mind!" Begonia shouted. "He'll announce a courtship!"

Her stepsister's words struck her. "Surely not," Pixal returned quietly. "The prince could yet show interest in anyone."

"You're only saying that to make us feel better." Columbine pouted. "Just you wait. He's going to announce that woman as his bride-to-be and I'll be a spinster forever!"

"You? I'll be the spinster!"

From there, their complaining devolved into yet more bickering, and Pixal hastily excused herself.

Pixal ran to her room in the basement, seeking privacy in which she might think about what they had said, her mind reeling and her heart pounding. When she at last reached her dusty room, she ran to her secret compartment and pulled out a little paper-wrapped parcel. For a moment, she was still, but then she unwrapped it quickly and let the gold necklace Zane had given her fall into her hand.

At the sight of it, she closed her eyes, holding it to her heart as she desperately tried to still her heart's beating and calm herself. How could she have been so blind as to not see what that gesture meant? Giving such a gift was the most obvious thing a man could do to show his favor for a woman, short of asking to court– or more brazenly, expressing it with a kiss.

She blushed brightly at the thought of reserved Prince Zane kissing her, and after considering it for a few moments, she forced it from her mind. Such a thing would not happen in any world.

There was one more matter, which filled her with hot shame. She almost cursed herself for her actions. Once again, she had refused him a favour, for the second day in a row. If she had known it was a question asked from romantic intent, she would have made sure to have something for him, even if it was at least a kinder rejection. How could her reaction have not hurt him? Prince or not, could she not at least humor him for a day? A romance with a prince, however short-lived, would not come a second time in life.

As she considered these things, she slowly wrapped the necklace in its paper once again, hiding it in the wallboard.

The third day of the festival was coming, and she was determined to make it perfect. She would have a favour for him, knowing she had something perfect but had forgotten about. Indeed, she would go to the jousting tournament, even though she had not so far, and cheer for him as a lady would. He might not be able to choose her for her lack of status, but she could still have one more day of enjoyment with him, to tide her over by his memory, and to humor his deep kindness.

That night, Pixal again went to sleep to thoughts of the reserved Prince Zane– no, just Zane, which stood for nothing. A smile crept onto her face as her mind whirled. Thoughts turned to dreams, which echoed and repeated her memories, creating a tapestry of emotion and dancing and laughter and conversation. She slept soundly and softly, and despite her misgivings, she did not once wake, her mind content to allow her to imagine.

#ninjago #ninjago pixal #ninjago zane #pixal borg #zane julien #pixane #ninjago fanfiction #OLST fanfic #OLST writing #ninjago fairy tale au #a bride for the prince

[whatacartouchebag]

AGAIN WE FALL SKYWARDS

~an And The Reason Comes playlist~

Something I’ve been pinking away at and planning for the last few months, but now I’m ready to finally share it with everyone! I’ve been wanting to do one of these for some time now, but it required getting certain chapters written and knowing the pace of some scenes first.

This is a massive thankyou to everyone who has ever read, liked or commented on this journey!! It’s been a big part of my life and I hope that you’ve all enjoyed this ride with these two as they find their own place to call home. There’s still a little bit left to go, and I’ll be back into it once Fair Game Week comes to a close and things start to calm down a little for me behind the scenes.

As an aside, at the time of posting this, there are slight spoilers for the last two chapters in the form of an excerpt, if you choose to read the synopsis for the tracklisting. They’re nothing major, and they certainly don’t give anything away, but if you want to avoid that, this is your warning! Simply enjoy the music in the meantime ♥

(track listing and recommended chapter listening under the cut)

Keep reading on for a text version of the tracklisting, but for the recommended chapter reading, and where each song falls, please refer to this handy guide which includes some excerpts and perhaps a few good memories along the way ♥

1. Moment's Silence – Hozier

2. Setting Sail – Two Steps From Hell

3. Horse to Water – Tall Heights

4. Hunter's Moon – Two Steps From Hell

5. Titan Dune – Two Steps From Hell

6. Mess – Noah Kahan

7. Be Kind To Yourself – Andrew Peterson

8. Unity – Shinedown

9. Movement – Hozier

10. Amaryllis – Shinedown

11. Devil's Backbone – The Civil Wars

12. Outside – Kevin Penkin

13. For Once In My Life – Nancy Wilson

14. Almost Human – Lauren Daigle

15. Shallow Breath – Immediate

16. Adrenalized – Immediate

17. Atlantis – Two Steps From Hell

18. Easy – Mac Ayres

19. Wings – Immediate

20. Ultralife – Oh Wonder

21. I'm Confessin' (That I Love You) – Lady Luck Trio

22. I'll Look Around – Madeleine Peyroux

23. The Name of Life – Celestial Aeon Project

24. Colouring Outside the Lines – MisterWives

25. Reminiscence – Yasunori Nishiki

26. Lost Hope – Immediate

27. Wander. Wonder. – The Arcadian Wilds

28. Town Veiled In White – Yasunori Nishiki

29. Sniper Shot – Immediate

30. Snow Angels – Two Steps From Hell

31. Lay Me Down – Crosby & Nash

32. Down Come the Rain – Hidden Citizens

33. warm blood – flor

34. Grow As We Go – Ben Platt

35. Lovesick – BANKS

36. Lights Down Low – MAX

37. Out of Reach – Immediate

38. Saturn – Sleeping At Last

39. My<Dsmbr – Linkin Park

40. Amaria – Two Steps From Hell

41. Map – Adam Lambert

42. Wake Up, Moving On – Kevin Penkin

43. Polaris – NateWantsToBattle

44. When Can I See You Again? – Owl City

#Fair Game #fairgameweek2021 #music #playlist #Qrow Branwen #Clover Ebi #gods i hope the links work lmao #and that it doesn't get eaten in the tags o o p s #here's hoping i don't have to come back and futz with html uuuugh