#He's coming to Kingdom I can tag Kingdom right
Text
Winter's King 11
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: friday, my day, am i right?
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there?
“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.”
“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.”
You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you.
“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate.
You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.”
“You are not in Debray now,” he muses.
You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him.
“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance.
“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.”
“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--”
“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.”
You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.”
You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone.
“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.”
You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment.
“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...”
“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?”
You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath.
“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.”
“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating.
He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain.
“We may begin simple,” he intones.
So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response.
“You have a question?” He prompts.
“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines.
“I can tell,” he says brightly.
You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks.
“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles.
He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait.
“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.”
“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter.
“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides.
“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.”
He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.”
You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do?
⚔️
“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.”
“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.
“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.”
You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair.
“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--”
“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.”
“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.”
“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.”
You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?”
You twist around to look at the door, then to him.
“I will go wherever you command, your highness.”
“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?”
There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you.
“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.”
He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.”
“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?”
Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away.
“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you.
He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh.
“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.”
You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.”
He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed.
“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.”
You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away.
“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table.
Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales.
He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow.
“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.”
You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall.
Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife.
He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts.
He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool.
He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream.
“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.”
You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months.
“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.”
He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side.
“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.”
You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there.
He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs.
Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand.
“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you.
“A game, your highness?” You babble.
He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.”
Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king.
“Your highness,” you utter.
“It’s my command,” he says, “run.”
#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia x reader#dark geralt#dark!geralt#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au#winter's king#the witcher
212 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Mighty Sand Dragon And The Maiden:Crocodile X Reader pt3
______________________________
Pt1 Pt2
The third and final part of the dragon Crocodile series. This was probably one of my favorite things to write. I hope everyone enjoys it and I'll be back again next week
Warnings/Tags:
Fluff
Mentions of blood and injuries
Mentions of cauterization
Fantasy AU
______________________________
Reader POV
It had been a year since I first fought Crocodile and I have been training hard to finally take him down. I have been thinking about our previous fights to try and think of what his weakness could be and I think I might have figured it out. It must be water! Because of his powers as the sand dragon, he can turn into sand, and water makes sand clump together and makes it harder for the sand to move around so freely like it does when the wind blows! It must be he weakness as well. So for my journey I packed my usual supplies but this time I also kept a secret bottle of water under my clothes so I could catch him off guard.
I made it to the entrance of his cave and put my bags down, gripping my sword and keeping the bottle of water strapped to my leg I walked closer. I was about to call out for him when I heard sounds of a struggle coming from inside the cave. I put away my sword and walked inside. Not too far from the entrance I saw Crocodile on the ground, bloodied and bruised, and a knight standing in front of him. I walked closer and spoke up, "What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted at the knight. He was startled with my sudden presence behind him but spoke, "Ah, young maiden. I am just slaying this dragon that has put you under his spell!" "Spell?! What spell??" "Oh, you poor thing. Everyone in town has noticed your disappearances every couple of months and everyone has noticed that you always leave in the direction of the Sand Dragons cave. So you must've been put under his evil spell and for he past year, have been forced to do his evil bidding!" "BULLSHIT!!! I'VE BEEN COMING HERE TO DEFEAT THE DRAGON MYSELF BECAUSE I WANT TO CHANGE MY OWN DESTINY OF BEING A POOR HELPLESS MAIDEN!!!" The knight was shocked at my reason for coming here. He then started laughing right in my face, "That is hilarious! See, you are clearly under the dragons spell, no maiden has the strength to defeat a dragon!~ Worry not maiden, I shall defeat the dragon and escorts you back home safely, maybe you can even reward this handsome knight by being my little bride~" The knight winked at me and held up his sword to deliver the final blow to Crocodile. Quickly taking out my sword, I got in front of him and blocked his attack. The knight looked shocked again and became frustrated, "Stand down maiden, stop defending this evil creature and let me kill it!" "No! This is my destiny and I am not going to let you take it away from me!" "This behavior is traitorous! I'll have you executed with this dragon!"
Crocodile POV:
I layed on the ground, holding my wounds as I watched the maiden take on the knight. They are a brave one for risking being a traitor to their kingdom just to kill me. Something in me felt uneasy seeing them in a serious battle this time, all the times I fought them I just did it to amuse myself, but now this was an actual battle, one that could end in their death. I didn't like the fact they could die but the pain from my own injuries prevented me from getting up and helping. But then that damm knight raised his sword and slashed them across the face, and that made me see red...
Seeing the maiden fall to the ground and crying out as they held their bleeding face gave me a burst of rage fueld adrenaline, I got up and growled. Sand surrounded me and I transformed back into my dragon form. Once the sand disappeared I roared loudly and caused the ground to shake, the knight fell and looked up at me in fear. He didn't even have time to gain his confidence back before I stood on him and crushed the lower half of his body. He screamed in pain but I didn't move, I began to use my powers to suck every last drop of moisture out of his body. His body slowly began to shrivel up, all the moisture in his body gone like rain on the dessert sand. Within a matter of seconds his body was nothing but a husk and armor, I stood over him and this time I completely crushed him, when I moved my hand there was nothing but dust, I bent down and huffed and the knight was gone...
I looked back at the maiden, still bleeding and my face softened a little and I turned to them. I transformed back to my human form and knelt down next to them, I used my hand to hold them up and wiped their little tears away with my thumb. I looked down at the injury and smirked a little, a scar right across the face, just like mine.... Hearing their soft cries of pain snapped me out of my thoughts and made me start to think of how I could help, I looked at my hook and got an idea. I brought the hook up to my face and gently began to blow fire on it to heat it up. Once it was red I looked back at the maiden, "I'm gonna help, but it's going to hurt like hell, do you promise to try and keep still while I stop the bleeding?" the maiden nodded and gripped onto my arm for support. I carefully placed the tip of the red hot hook on the cut and started to cauterize the cut. They screamed and cried more but thankfully didn't move much as I continued to stop the bleeding. I managed to stop the bleeding on her face and removed the hook. They stopped crying and was just breathing heavily now. Seeing them no longer injured I let out a sigh of exaust and collapsed next to them.
Reader POV
My eyes widened when I saw Crocodile collapse next to me, they look exhausted and were still injured as well, if he didn't receive any medical attention soon he might die. Remembering my supplies I brought I quickly ran out the cave to grab my bag. I kneeled back down next to him and got out all the medical supplies I brought. I took the water bottle out from under my clothes and used a towel to clean him, ironic that I brought this extra water to kill him and am now using it to save his life. After cleaning him I took out a needle and thread, disinfecting ointment and began stitching up what I could. He grunted, feeling the needle piercing his skin and looked up at me, "What on earth are you doing? Isn't this what you wanted? For me to die.." "Well yes but I wanted to kill you myself remember? I didn't want some stupid knight to do it... So I'm saving you know so I can kill you properly later.." He chuckled and leaned his head back to try and relax while I stitched him up. "Thank you... For rescuing me from that knight." "No problem. He had no right to injure a maiden such as yourself.." I smiled a little and spoke again, "Kind of ironic that it was the dragon that saved me and not the knight." we both chuckled and went quiet again. After patching him up he sat up again and we just stared at each other, eventually I got the courage to ask a question I've always wanted to ask, "Why is it that dragons always kidnap maidens? And they usually come back unharmed, even after days of being with the dragon, why is that?" Crocodile pondered for a second then sighed, "Truthfully, we're lonely. Creatures are scared of us in our dragon form, and in our human form we're still fear because of the wings and tail. Other dragons are assholes and we don't get along with each other.. We're usually just looking for a companion that won't leave us... That's why we go after maidens because they're usually described as kind and loving creatures..." my heart went soft and I got closer to him, "How come you haven't taken a maiden? Aren't you lonely?" He scowled, "I don't need a companion. I've learned to not let people come close to my heart..." I frowned and looked down, "How about I stay with you?" He looked at me confused and was about to say something but I cut him off, "I stay here and train to fight you and you don't have to worry about getting close to someone because you already have a heads up that we're going to fight. That way you know not to get attached and you have some company!" Crocodile looked at me still skeptical so I added in, "Also, if I go back home without the knight, I'll probably be executed so you're stuck with me." He rolled his eyes and sighed before muttering out, "fine..." I raised my hand to shake his and he gripped my hand tightly and shook it, "You have now officially been taken by the dragon, it is now your duty to set yourself free from my clutches or else you'll be mine for the rest of your life, deal?" He asked. I nodded, "Deal!"
And so started my new life with the dragon I was going to kill..
______________________________
I'll post next week and to those that have made requests I'll get you next week probably but I promise you I will write your request and post it, it just may be a week or two before I get to it. I love you all and see you next week
Kelly🐸
#one piece#one piece anime#oneshot#crocodile one piece#crocodile x reader#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#op crocodile#crocodile op#one piece crocodile#sir crocodile#crocodile x you#crocodile x y/n
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
#khdr#kingdom hearts dark road#kingdom hearts#rambling about dim path#making kh photosets#ch tag: xeh#I feel like this is what was going through Xehanort's head when he said these lines#Player's death was inevitable and so Xehanort had no choice but to move on#He left the island behind and took the first step toward new worlds...new experiences...new relationships#If he could do it then so can Vor. Is what he thinks.#He's giving her advice based on his own experiences with change and separation#Of course Eraqus doesn't understand why Xehanort would say this. Xehanort never talks about his past.#And Eraqus has yet to come face to face with the inevitability of change. So he insists that Vor doesn't have to worry about it#Xehanort knows better though. He can't lie to Vor about something like this. Blissful ignorance won't help her in the end.#But Xehanort isn't entirely right either. He's way too quick to suggest discarding relationships in service of the new.#Unfortunately Vor won't realize the balance she needs to strike until it's far too late#khdr spoilers#long post
65 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Terra Week 2k22 - Day 1 - Labradorite (Protection)
(There’s a next part to this)
#terra#aqua#ventus#eraqus#kingdom hearts#kh#do not tag as ship or i'll come for you#i'll come for you#anyways ^^#i have this headcanon that eraqus is especially hard on terra bc he's his eldest#in terms of affection#oh and it's canon lol but i say hc to appease ppl#and it's so very obvious how conflicted he is about terra's sweet nature despite the lingering darkness that ven and aqua often#get frustrated with him but there's not much they can say bc he's their master and the respect they have for him is immense#but sometimes just sometimes they stand up for terra#bc of course he doesn't#you see#his father is right#terra should do better#that's the least he can do#take care of aqua and ven train harder make his master proud become a master#we don't mention the darkness#my art
297 notes
·
View notes
Text
sit me on your throne.
pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader
warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.
words: 4.3k
notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.
thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).
"You kneel before me?"
Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.
He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.
He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.
The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.
He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.
Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.
You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.
Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.
Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.
"Your friend?" you wonder.
"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.
You quirk a brow, "Safe?"
"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."
You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.
"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."
Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.
"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."
He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.
You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.
You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.
You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.
He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.
It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.
“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”
The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.
You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...
“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”
“Geralt.”
You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.
"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."
"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.
You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.
You think.
You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.
You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.
You take a deep breath.
"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."
"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."
"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."
"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.
You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."
"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.
"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.
You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.
--
You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.
There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...
Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...
You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.
You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.
--
You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.
Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.
You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.
You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.
You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.
You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.
It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.
You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.
It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.
Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.
Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...
Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.
You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.
You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.
He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.
"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.
"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.
The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.
"Did the clothes not fit?"
He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."
You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."
"I'll go with you."
It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.
You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.
You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.
She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.
She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.
"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."
"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.
"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.
You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.
You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.
You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.
It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.
"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.
You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.
"Now?" you question.
He nods once, "Now."
You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."
Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"What am I doing?"
"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.
"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.
"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."
"And what shall I call you then?"
You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.
He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.
You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.
Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.
"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.
He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.
"Well I don't."
"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."
"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."
"I don't want any throne."
Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.
"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"
Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.
Unthinking, you step toward him closer.
"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"
"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."
Another step.
You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.
"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.
You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.
"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."
He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.
You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.
His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.
You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.
Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.
"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.
"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.
One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.
He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.
He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.
He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.
"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.
Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.
You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.
You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.
"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.
Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.
"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.
His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.
Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.
Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.
"Geralt, I'm,"
"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.
You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.
Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.
"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.
Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.
"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.
"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.
You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.
"I envy you, you know."
"Don't."
You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.
"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."
"And where will you go?" he asks.
Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."
"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."
"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.
His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.
"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."
"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.
"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."
"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.
"And of course your coin would be useful as well."
"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"
"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."
You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.
You part lightly and breathe,
"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."
#geralt x curvy!reader#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia x curvy!reader#geralt of rivia smut#geralt x you#geralt x y/n#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt of rivia x you#geralt smut#geralt fanfic#henry cavill characters
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Twst Unveil Event Part 1
Yuurin: Hello, Philomela. Why have you called—
Philomela: WHY HAVE I CALLED?!!
Yuurin: ...
Philomela: YOU KNOW WHY!
Yuurin: Calm down yourself. And no, I have no idea why.
Philomela: *breathes in*
Philomela: Yuurin, the wrestling competition is approaching.
Yuurin: Is it?
Philomela: Yes. AND I CAN'T FIND ANYONE TO FIGHT YOU!
Philomela: A BUNCH OF COWARDS!
Philomela: Calling themselves descendants of Hercules! Ha!
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: So why have you called?
Philomela: Well, do you think you can invite some of your schoolmates over?
Philomela: You know, to have a friendly match with you.
Yuurin: I will try—
Philomela: Great! I will write to your headmage! *hangs up*
Yuurin: ...
Deuce: A wrestling competition?
Yuurin: Yes. It's an annual event in the Kingdom of Heroes.
Ace: Wow. So, what's the problem?
Yuurin: Nobody wants to participate.
Ace and Deuce: Huh?
Ace: Aren't people there incredibly strong?
Yuurin: *nods*
Deuce: Then why don't they want to join?
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: I've defeated most of them.
Ace and Deuce: !!!
Ace: Y-You don't say...
Yuurin: That's why my trainer, Philomela, was furious.
Yuurin: That wrestling competition is her only entertainment in life.
Ace and Deuce: Hmm...
Ace: And I'm guessing you need students to bring into this competition?
Yuurin: Yes.
Ace: Oh geez. I would like to help you, but I'm busy.
Yuurin: Oh, it's fine. I'm not thinking of inviting you.
Ace: ...
Deuce: Pft— So, anyone in mind?
Yuurin: Yes. I'm thinking of approaching them after recess.
Floyd: Damselfish~! What brings you here~?
Yuurin: Good afternoon, Floyd-senpai. Can I invite you to a wrestling competition—
Floyd: Yes~.
Yuurin: ...
Floyd: Do I get to fight you~?
Yuurin: Yes.
Floyd: Okay~. Is there anything else?
Yuurin: You're free to bring Jade-senpai or Azul-senpai with you.
Epel: I want to go!
Vil: It's a wrestling competition, Epel. You'll be crushed before you even started.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: You can tag along if you want.
Yuurin: But I prefer if Rook-senpai will participate.
Rook: It's a pleasure to be invited by you, Monsieur Tranquille!
Vil: Yes. Rook will be ideal for this type of event. He will not disappoint you.
Epel: Can I go though?!
Vil: You don't have any business there.
Epel: Come on! It's the Kingdom of Heroes!
Vil: ...
Vil: Fine. Yuurin, as long as you promise me to look after Epel.
Yuurin: *nods*
Epel: Yes!
Rook: *chuckles*
Sebek: I AM NOT PARTICIPATING!
Silver: *who has already accepted the offer* Why not?
Sebek: Hmph! My job is to serve My liege. And I have no time for this senseless competition you have.
Silver and Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: I see.
Yuurin: It seems I shouldn't have relied on Malleus-senpai's word.
Yuurin: Only Silver fits the description of strong and worthy opponent.
Silver: Malleus is invited to watch and he recommended both of us.
Yuurin: It's fine, Sebek. I will inform Malleus that you decline.
Sebek: W-Wait! You didn't tell me Waka-sama was invited!
Yuurin: Ideally, dorm leaders are needed to supervise the participating students.
Sebek: Well... I'll be happy to join this event of yours, human!
Yuurin: ...
Sebek: What?
Yuurin: Maybe Lilia-senpai is a better option.
Sebek: Y-You're not wrong, however! I can't possibly disappoint My liege!
Silver: Yes, yes. We understand that.
Leona: Won't your parents watch?
Yuurin: No. They will only ask Philomela for results.
Leona: Tch. I see.
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: How about you, Leona-senpai?
Leona: ...
Leona: I don't want to see you hurt.
Ruggie: Shishishi! That's right. Leona saw a footage of you fighting and he got mad seeing you injured.
Yuurin: Oh. I was only a beginner that time.
Leona: Is that meant to reassure me?
Yuurin: *nods*
Leona: ...
Leona: No, Yuurin. It doesn't.
Ruggie: *laughs*
#twisted wonderland#twst yuurin#twst ace#twst deuce#twst leona#twst epel#twst rook#twst vil#twst floyd#twst sebek#twst silver#twst ruggie#twst oc philomela#twst unveil event
494 notes
·
View notes
Text
the thorn in your side.
synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?
tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)
note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!
“princess! i got a favor to ask.”
“ohhhh, princess!”
“hey, princess?”
your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.
you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”
his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”
... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!
“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.
satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”
he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?
“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”
you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...
“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.
you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.
a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?
“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.
“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”
ah.
did you really?
your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.
the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”
satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”
how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?
you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”
without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.
why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!
#﹒writing#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#jjk gojo fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo#gojo satoru
432 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jungkook
YEARNING || Intro
Some meetings are nothing but fleeting coincidence- others are what we call fate.
Tags/Warnings: Dragonblood!Prince!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Some fluff if you squint?, Jungkook is emotionally constipated oops
Length: 4.8k Words
-> Masterlist
There is no taglist for this fic.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
It’s been a long time since you’ve been put in your cell, and yet, you don’t provide the castle guards with any answers they might seek.
The straw pinches and picks at your skin, but it’s warm and soft whenever you sleep. The food you receive is barely enough to fill you, but it keeps you alive, and gives you something to do during the day. The only sunlight you get is from a small, barred up opening far up on the back wall of your cell- one of many, placed in rows, but always with a wall in between each cage to separate the prisoners. Isolate them.
Today, it’s raining.
Two guards enter the hall underground you’re in, opening your cell. “looks like you’ll get a shower.” One chuckles, before he puts the shackles around your wrists, tugging you out by the chain that connects them to one another. This is also not new. Sometimes, they’ll put you out in the snow, or the wind, or today- the rain.
But you’ve got nothing to say.
The light stings your eyes as you can hardly see, stumbling more than walking after the guard who chains your hands to a large, wooden construct meant to hold onto the chain from your shackles. “Maybe it’ll wash the grime off.” The guard jokes to the one next to him, before he leaves your already shivering body behind.
As your eyes adjust to the brightness, you look up- finally able to see the flying dragons above clearly, their wings keeping them circling in the skies, colors mixing.
This is why you’re here.
Dragons are seen as dangerous, wild and violent creatures that humanity needs to be protected from. Therefore, dragon eggs and nests need to be reported, and any sightings too- so when you failed to do so, and even offered a once injured beast shelter, you’ve made yourself an enemy to the kingdom.
Especially because you refuse to reveal where it went after you’ve nursed it back to health.
And you will continue to stay quiet, because you know that dragons aren’t the vile beings they’re made out to be. No- the real beasts are the humans here, who enslave their own people just for choosing to help an injured creature that’s not of the same kind.
This isn’t fair.
And if that is what life is all about- you don’t want it.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
They throw a young man into the cell right next to yours, where you’re still laying on the floor, still recovering from the rain and cold from yesterday.
He can’t be just a normal human being- the jewelry he still wears on his face and ears distinctive, just like the ink beneath his skin. He’s probably one of the dragonblood people.
He watches you for a good while, before he actually speaks, quietly so. “what did you do?” He asks, and your eyes look at him from where you’re laying on the floor near the hay.
“…I hid a dragon from the kingdom.” You answer just as quietly, eyes closing again.
“Why?” the young man asks.
“Because it.. was hurt.” You simply offer the truth.
“Did they survive?” He questions further, and you nod, a smile tugging on your lips.
“Can you hear them?” the man asks, but you shake your head.
“I’m not one of them.” You answer. “I’m just.. human.” You tell him, and he falls quiet again.
Having nothing more to say.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
Today, they’ve taken you both out again. Him in the cage, you chained up near him, hands bound by shackles attached to a wooden post.
It’s nighttime, and they’ve not yet taken you back inside like usual.
“You cannot hear them..” Comes a voice from the side, the young man turned towards you, the fire of a nearby torch reflecting off of his dark eyes. You nod- he’s most likely been imprisoned for a reason regarding dragons as well. “and yet you helped them?”
You shrug, which is barely noticeable amongst your shaking body. “..it felt unfair t-to leave it and l-let it be captured.” You admit to him. “E-everything was fine.” You say, and he just watches you, only a few larger dragons now left in the skies above. “but- b-but then I fought with my brother. And so he wrote a letter t-to the court.” You giggle, remembering the poor writing of his. Frankly, you couldn’t write at all- but still. For someone who thinks so highly of himself such as your brother, he sure lacks in every task and talent.
“What did you fight about?” the young man wonders.
“H-he had told me I had t-to leave the house we inherited from our p-parents, because he’d found a potential woman for himself.” You say. “A-and I told him to at least let me stay in the c-cabin close by.” You explain, voice stammering due to the cold. “He said I couldn’t. So we fought. Because.. I had nowhere else to go.” You admit. “I was scared.”
The young man is silent at that.
“can you hear them?” You ask, eyes closed as you hear his own chains move around with him as he adjusts his sitting position.
“I can.” He tells you, and you smile.
“Do you think they know?” You wonder, an open question he interprets as you asking if they know of your past actions for them. “maybe t-that’s why they’re above..” you figure, and it’s quiet for a moment.
“They know.” He tells you, and you nod, accepting that answer. He’s most likely just trying to comfort you, and you appreciate that. Your shivering slowly stops, and you know it’s not a good sign.
“I’m glad.” You say to him, tension leaving your body as you open your eyes again- surprised to see him look at you still, but his gaze doesn’t unsettle you like it does the guards. Maybe because to you, he’s an equal. He’s just as much in this situation as you are.
“Hold on a bit longer.” He says, and you’re not sure what he means by that- when suddenly, something crashes down, sky darkening as it fills with dragons, fire filling up the ground for a moment as one of them shields the young man from the guards approaching. He’s saying something, you’re not sure what- as his cage is torn and bent apart, steel unable to hold it’s shape against the claws of the beasts claiming the skies and mountains as theirs.
A dark brown dragon approaches you, bites at the chains of your shackles, before they break and have you released- body falling to the wet ground, where it is picked up by hands to be placed on the back of the beast.
You’re not very aware what happens. You just feel cold- and oddly warm, all at the same time.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
When you wake up, you’re warm- and also, not alone.
There’s multiple little.. animals? All laying on the blankets that cover you- and as you look closer, you realize they’re young dragons. “Oh, you’re awake.” A man says, noticing your opened eyes. “I was worried you might need more time. My name is Seokjin.” He offers, before adjusting a pillow. “You’re.. somewhere safe. That’s all you need to know for now.” He kindly offers, when the door opens.
“Oh, she’s up.” The other man says, politely nodding towards you. “I’ll tell the kitchen that she’ll eat too?” He asks, and Seokjin nods.
“But only some soup for now, the same as the others we took in.” He explains. “and yes, that includes Jungkook. Make sure he doesn’t steal anything from the kitchen.” He says, as the man chuckles and leaves. “That was Taehyung, by the way. He’s mainly responsible for the young hatchlings- but he’s also in charge of handling the new Hiwerns we took in.”
“…Hiwern?” You wonder, and Seokjin nods.
“yes. Hiwerns- are you not one?” he wonders as be helps you sit up. “Jungkook didn’t tell us much about you, so I assumed you were- despite you being rather.. small.” He says, and only now do you notice how tall he is.
“Jungkook?” you ask, unsure. “the.. other prisoner?” You ask, and Seokjin smiles.
“Yes. He was taken after he got caught off guard.. but we all know what the prince is like.” He laughs, making your eyes widen. “Wait.. you.. seem confused.”
“I am.” You say. “I’m not.. I don’t know anything about a.. prince?” You question, when someone walks in-
The man you remember.
“Jin, why do I need to keep eating soup- oh.” He notices, looking at you before his face becomes more gentle. “Hello. It’s good to see you up.”
“She’s a bit confused.” Seokjin says, as Jungkook nods.
“I figured.” He simply sighs. “I’ll talk to you later. I’d like to talk to her alone right now.” He requests, and Seokjin leaves, while Jungkook stays behind to sit on the edge of your bed.
He looks different. Skin clean, and dressed in clearly well made clothes- fit for a prince, like Seokjin had mentioned. “ask away. You must have many questions judging by the way you look.” Jungkook says, and you look to the little dragon hatchling that curls up near your legs, continuing to sleep.
“Hiwern.” You begin. “What.. is that?” You wonder.
“I’m a Hiwern. So is he, and almost everyone else here.” He simply replies. “Hiwerns are.. people who have dragon blood inside of them. We’re like.. descendants of the more traditional dragons, so to say. That’s why we can hear them, and speak their language.” He offers as an explanation. “that’s a very simplified version of it all. But you don’t need to know much more than that.” Jungkook says.
“…and you’re a prince?” You ask a bit more hesitant, and he nods.
“I am. At least, for the Hiwern people.” He shrugs. “for your people I’m nothing more than a monster.” He says, and you shamefully look down.
“What.. what is going to happen to me?” You wonder, and he just smiles as he gets up, hissing a bit probably due to his injuries he sustained while captured.
“You’ll heal. After that, we’ll bring you back to your people.” He reassures you, as he opens the door to let Seokjin back inside-
Leaving you with a dark wish to never heal at all.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
The snow is deep, as you and Jungkook walk through the woods in the mountains together.
You’re humming a song that catches his attention, making him turn to look at you over his shoulder. “how do you know this song?” He questions.
“My mother hummed it often. I just.. picked it up.” You answer a bit hesitant. “I can stop if you want..” you say, but he shakes his head.
“its no problem.” He answers. “your voice is.. soothing to listen to.”
“What is.. the song about?” You ask, awkwardly asking your questions because you don’t want to overstep a line- but this is a unique opportunity to satisfy some curiosity you’ve always had.
“The song of the daughter.” He answers. “it’s.. a tale of the first Hiwern daughter of the mountains.” Jungkook explains. “according to.. tales, there were once four daughters born from a dragon mother. One in the mountains, one near the sea, one in the desert, and one in the woods.” He recites. “and they gave their gift of dragonblood to their children, and so on. That’s how.. we apparently came to be. Sons and daughter’s born and travelled, and we eventually formed our own society.” He shrugs.
“So.. there’s Hiwerns all over the world?” You ask, and he nods.
“But since the royal families have made the act of dragon-speech illegal, we have been hiding.” He explains. “where is.. your family?” Jungkook asks as he walks further down the mountains with you.
“My mother was hung a few years ago, for.. the same thing I was supposed to be hung for.” You say, walking next to him. “but.. they didn’t hang me, because they wanted me to tell them where the dragon went.” You explain. “so they could find the nest.”
Jungkook stays quiet for a while, before he speaks again. “You said you have a brother?” Jungkook asks, and you nod.
“I was living with him after my mother died. Until.. he sent a letter out that exposed what I’d done.” You say.
“He’s a human too, I assume?” Jungkook wonders, and you nod your head.
“though we are only somewhat blood related. We have the same father, but not the same mother.” You tell him. He nods, quietly, before he walks further.
“this is as far as I’ll take you.” He says, before offering the bag to you. “There’s rations in here, and something to help you on your way.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” You tell him, but he shakes his head.
“take it as.. me repaying the kindness you’ve shown before.” He offers. Under different circumstances, he would’ve let you stay with him- but he can’t simply trust a kind face and gentle hands in times like these.
You’re still human. And humans can’t be trusted.
So you nod your goodbye, quietly, as you walk away from him and towards an uncertain future-
Leaving the prince with a slightly bitter taste on his tongue.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
Jungkook knows what the dragons are doing just a few days after you left- but that doesn’t mean he quite understands their reasons for doing it.
Sure, you’ve helped a young dragon in the past. And sure, you’ve been very sweet to the hatchlings too for the very short time you’ve been here. But why do all dragons seem to have this.. strange interest in you?
“You seem in thought.” Namjoon asks, as he places his books back into their respective spots in his library.
“I am.” Jungkook’s responds, looking out the window. “There’s.. do the dragons seem to be acting.. strange to you?” He asks, and Namjoon turns around to face him.
“..You’re talking about her.” He says, and Jungkook nods.
“They’re not very clear in their reasoning as to why they seem so interested in her.” Jungkook says. “and it’s most certainly neither prey drive nor distrust.”
“Its curiosity.” Namjoon finishes, as he puts another book between two others to keep them all in order. “Maybe because she’s living out in the open. From what I’ve heard, she’s not gone to any villages yet.”
“No.” the prince denies. “they.. almost watch over her.” He shakes his head, arms crossed. “Feann keeps flying over the area she currently resides in. And Gowren apparently keeps her company at night.” He explains, remembering the things he’s heard from the wild dragons of the area. “But they refuse to tell me their reasons as to why.”
“protectiveness. Interesting, considering she’s got no Hiwern blood.” Namjoon agrees with the prince’s suspicion. “they should naturally be wary of her- but if you remember, the hatchlings didn’t mind her either.” He offers.
You definitely spoke the truth when claiming that you were human, that much he knows. So why this interest in you?
“Maybe you could send out someone to check up on her.” Namjoon says. “I know this is making you nervous.”
“I probably have to.” Jungkook agrees. “I don’t want them to become too friendly with a human. The younglings might misunderstand, and lose their natural fear of humans.” He worries, and Namjoon nods.
“How about you send out Hoseok? Yoongi might be human, but he would most likely just intimidate her.” He proposes. “and, Hoseok is faster.”
“You’re right.” Jungkook nods. “thank you.” He nods,
Walking out the library to find the man in question right away.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
“Oh.” You say, spotting Hoseok walking towards you. You’ve seen him before, fleetingly, but you can remember faces well.
“You’ve come fairly far.” The man tells you, before he nods politely, and sets down a small bag of things. “these are sent by Seokjin.” He informs you, and you accept the bag that’s filled with some foods for you to eat, as well as a blanket.
“I- I’ll be out of the area soon, I promise.” You tell Hoseok. “I’m just.. not that fast.”
“There’s no need to rush, really-“ He starts, when suddenly, a young but large dragon clumsily makes its way down to instead almost.. shield you from the man?
“Huh?” you’re caught off guard, and mostly confused.
“This is.. something else.” Hoseok says, before he says something in a language you don’t understand- and you take it as a message to leave, as you slowly get up from your spot, to bury the remnants of the little fire you made, so you don’t draw too much attention to your existence. “where are you going?” Hoseok asks.
“Away.” You answer. “I’m not sure where to.. but I really don’t want to cause any problems for you or anyone else, really.” You explain yourself. “Prince Jungkook gave me the chance to be set free and start over- it would be ungrateful not to take it.” You tell him, and he nods.
It's not his place to question your actions.
And so he makes his way back, returns to the safety of his home and hidden town hidden by the high up mountains, where Namjoon already informs him that the prince wants to hear what he’s found right away.
“She gives her thanks. For the supplies I’ve given her- though I did not reveal the actual sender, like you told me to.” Hoseok says as he sits down with Jungkook, who’s just finished eating in his room.
“..was she well?” He asks, and the older Hiwern nods.
“She seemed fairly good given her situation.” He offers. “she is leaving the area as we speak.”
“I did not tell you to send her away.” Jungkook growls a bit argumentative, and Hoseok shakes his head.
“I know. It’s her choice she made herself.” He instead answers, though it doesn’t seem to pacify the prince very much. “why? She’s right in saying that it is for the best.”
“Id argue against that. Its for our best- but not hers.” Jungkook mumbles, understanding very well that you can’t just waltz back into the human towns as if nothing happened. You’re still wanted after all- and this time they won’t be so lenient, he’s sure of it.
“How come you’re so concerned, yet you sent her away?” Hoseok asks, curious. “We’ve taken Yoongi in, years ago. So it’s not like what she is could be the problem.” He almost teases.
“I don’t know.” Jungkook answers, leaning his chin on his hand. “I don’t.. I’m not sure about her.”
“You’re scared of a human?” the older dragonblood laughs, but the prince just rolls his eyes.
“it’s not fear. But.. uncertainty.” He admits instead. “The dragons are awfully attached. And so is my blood.” He says, referring to his inner dragon. “I’ve been.. dreaming of her.”
“Oh no, I’d rather not know.” Hoseok jokes.
“Trust me, I’d rather have simple desire filled visions than.. whatever it is that’s going on. If it was just sexual dreams I’d at least have a proper explanation as to what I’m supposed to do about it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “But instead, I just.. hear her sing.”
“Sing?” Hoseok wonders, interested.
“Humming, to be precise. The song of the Daughter.” The prince explains. “it keeps echoing in my head, and it’s quite frankly starting to drive me crazy.”
“And you think sending her away will help?” the older man asks without needing an answer. “it’s what you think you need to do, but what you actually need-“ hoseok stands up to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “-is an answer.”
“..You’re right.” The prince runs a hand over his face. “I’ll send out someone to find her, and bring her here. I can’t go on like this.” He says with frustration, before getting up to talk to Namjoon.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
Maybe, sending Yoongi was not quite the brightest idea the prince has had.
Because Yoongi notices quickly, that despite being on horseback, there’s no catching you. He’s spotted you already, has called out to you- but just like a freshly hatched dragon youngling, you seem to have an ingrown fear of anything remotely human. And the distrust is also clear, as you do not seem to care about his explanation of being sent by the Hiwern prince himself.
He can’t blame you. A former slave himself, he knows that his own kind is never to be believed.
There’s no arguing with you, as you play a game of hide and seek it seems like, and in a way, it’s almost an exciting change of pace for the usual slow and steady life in the mountains. “Please stop-!” He calls out again as he spots you once more-
But you’re running. And by the dragons above, you’re fast.
His horse is trying to keep up, even through the trees and bushes, but you’re at an advantage as you jump and duck your way left and right, until you find yourself out in the open, a river flowing past in quick motion. You would’ve had to cross it either way. There’s no way around it.
“Don’t do that!” Yoongi warns, well aware of the slippery stones and strong current most likely becoming a death trap if underestimated- and you seem to do just that, as you make your way through, legs soaking up the cold water. “stop- you’ll get hurt!” He calls out once more, but you just glare at him-
A fire equal to a dragon’s breath in your eyes.
And then, you slip, and fall right into the water, making Yoongi lead his horse as fast as it can run next to the riverbed, to keep an eye on you as best as he can- but the moment you seem to lose consciousness, he knows he’s lost.
“fuck!” Yoongi curses, horse refusing to move m as a dragon dives down from above to help- body blocking the river for a moment to catch yours against it, giving Yoongi an opportunity to drag you out and into the nearby grass.
The silvery dragon watches intensely as Yoongi helps you cough up the water swallowed, while others swarm the skies as if they heard the commotion and came to see for themselves. “can you hear me? What hurts?” Yoongi asks, concerned but also annoyed- and you just shiver for the moment, seemingly accepting whatever fate might fall onto you.
The fellow human sighs, before he moves to his horse to fetch a blanket he packs for emergencies- wrapping it around you, before he helps you onto its back to bring you where Jungkook had requested you to.
He's holding onto you with one arm, your body leaning against his front as you sit in front of him. “…how will I die?” You ask with a hoarse voice.
He chuckles. “hopefully not at all.” He answers. “The prince will already scold me enough for having you fall into the river.”
You sleepily watch the dragons above follow hou both- and decide that you believe him.
“I’m sorry.” You apologize.
“no need.” The man denies. “I can understand. And I would’ve been just as wary if I was you.” He offers.
“Why.. do I have to go back?” You wonder. “did I do something wrong?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s nothing bad.” He reassures you, as he’s let through by the guards stationed a good while before the town begins. “you can sleep soon. Hold out a bit longer.” He requests, and you nod, trying hard to do just that.
But just as a concerned looking Hoseok and Seokjin help you down the horse, you can’t stay awake any longer.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
“She’s still asleep.” Seokjin says, as Jungkook stands in front of the door to your room, as he’s been told.
“It is almost noon. I need to see her-“ the prince argues, but the older man shakes his head as he takes the hand from the door.
“She needs to rest first.” He urges.
“Rest?” Jungkook questions. “What happened?”
“According to Yoongi, she was scared and did not believe him when he told her he was sent by your request.” Jin explains. “She ran off, and fell into the river close to the south border of the woods. Qen helped- if she didn’t block the river and catch her, we most likely would’ve lost her.” He says.
Jungkook stares at the door.
“I’d like to see her, still.” He says, unsure why he feels this urge. He really should let you rest, but he at least wants to look at you, for reasons he’s not sure of.
“But do be quiet.” Seokjin sighs, as he opens the door to the room you’re sleeping in, a hatchling having entered from the window, sleeping soundly on your legs.
Jungkook walks in with stealth, not wanting to disturb your rest.
He stays near the door, not walking any closer, and it helps his ache quite a bit already to just see you sleep there. Like his mind if finally reassured again that you’re close by and taken care of, his chest feels lighter, not as constricted as before.
This is wrong.
The signs all point to one simple answer, and he knows it, as does Namjoon, and most likely Seokjin and Hoseok as well. But a connection like that can’t be, isn’t meant to work and shouldn’t be condoned nor explored by himself. You do not belong in his world, and neither does he belong into yours.
He has to fulfill his own blood’s final task, after all- bring a Hiwern child into this world, to keep his people alive for another generation. Something that only a hiwern Mother can do for him, as dragonblood is only given to the child by the mother, not the father.
He would betray his entire kind if he was to give into whatever this sick and twisted joke of nature is.
And he can’t do that, especially not as a prince. He’s got a duty to fulfill, he’s viewed as a leader and example. Anyone else would most likely be looked past- but not him. All eyes are on him, at all times.
He can’t do this.
So he instead makes his way out the door again, to find Namjoon and cut this bond before it can get any tighter.
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
“I do not care.” Jungkook argues, pacing from side to side in front of the window of his study, Namjoon sitting down with a troubled expression on his face. “Yoongis situation is not the same as mine. He will bring a Hiwern child into this world, I will not of I let this happen.” The prince argues.
“You don’t even know if she has any emotional connection to you.” Namjoon tries to explain. “If you would just take some time and-“
“And what? Let this bond grow until we both get hurt when we inevitably have to sever it?” The prince scoffs. “I will not be the reason my kind fails to survive.”
“You’re acting as if we’re on the brink of extinction..” Namjoon tells him. “What are you so scared of?” He worries, and Jungkook falls silent, as he looks outside the window.
“Of setting a wrong example.” He mumbles. “Even if the people accept it, what if it sets off a chain reaction I can’t control? Humans aren’t to be trusted, let alone get close to. The fear we teach our children has to stay intact.”
“And it will. Yoongi still can’t get close to any of the younger-“ Namjoon starts, but Jungkook snaps his head around, still upset.
“And yet she seems to be considered as a surrogate mother for the hatchlings. Namjoon, you’ve seen it too- I don’t know what sick joke they’re playing on me right now, but I can’t let this continue.” The prince says. “she will leave, after we separate the bond. And that’s final.”
“I hope you know that you’re asking a lot of me.” Namjoon lowly says, and Jungkook nods, serious.
“and if you can’t do it,” Jungkook says, before turning around again-
“Then I’ll find someone else who will.”
◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#bts jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook imagines#jungkook imagines#bts jungkook x reader
427 notes
·
View notes
Text
Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3
Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)
Length: 1550 words
Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding
TW: messy crazy bs
(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)
"I'll get going."
Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.
She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.
You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.
"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple.
"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"
"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."
"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.
“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.
“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.
“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”
“You what?!”
“They should be here any minute now.”
Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor.
“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”
“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.
“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”
“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.
“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”
“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”
“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.
“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.
"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.
"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.
"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.
"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."
Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.
"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."
"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."
"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."
Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.
"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”
“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.
“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”
“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”
“What point?”
“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”
This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.
“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”
“Fuck, fine.
“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”
“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.
“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”
The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode.
You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass.
You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?
#kpop smut#female idol smut#girl group smut#male reader insert#izone smut#male reader#male reader smut#minju smut#gidle smut#shuhua smut#gfriend smut#viviz smut#eunha smut#sinb smut
550 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls
Summary: Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. (Tagged with Blood, violence, child death)
--------------
Danielle is cursed.
This battlefield is nice. It’s early afternoon and the breeze that comes from the forest to the east is sweet. The fighting has only just begun and the scent of blood is still hovering at the edge of her senses. It hasn’t erased the taste of the dead girl’s last meal – bread sweetened with honey – yet. She’s used to storm clouds the size of mountains roiling overhead, the electric sting of lightning against her skin, the crash of blades against armor and arrows against shields. The sun is warm and honey-sweet against her cheek and there’s no fighting going on right now. There’s only the low murmur of voices from all around and some muffled sobbing.
If she weren’t waking up in the body of a dead girl, she’d call it picnic weather.
Time to pay attention.
“—Chosen One is dead,” a man says. His voice matches the weather more than the situation. Calm. Even. Gentle. A wave lapping at the shore before the tsunami. She can feel his aura undulating through the ground, dark and demanding. Demon King? Mad Emperor? Dark Lord? One of those types. He projects his words over the renewed sobbing. “Do you see your folly now, honorable knights? The wasted months of defiance? You were never going to defeat my army even with years and seven fabled soldiers at your mercy rather than the one. Here, the day of your final rebellion, your Hero lies dead after only one volley.”
Hero. Danielle is cursed, she shouldn’t be feeling pity for anyone but herself. But there it is, the familiar bile in the back of her throat, the prickling of her eyes, the tightening in her chest. This dead girl was their Hero. They made her their Chosen One. From the feel of it, they didn’t school in her magic or train her in swordsmanship. Her muscles are burning from death, yes, but also from overexertion.
What do you want? Danielle asks. All of the right systems are under her control now. The ground is cold against her back, the girl’s tiny curls a tickle against her face. The air is sweet underneath the scent of a dying blow and she can hear the conversations around her clearly. The Dark Lord is still gloating, giving the knights their time to mourn and his own forces time to ready the next attack. Sweetheart, what do you want?
The girl’s soul shudders. I-I’m not dead?
The arrow pierced your heart. You’re dead.
A dizzying swirl of emotions cloud the girl’s next words. Grief-sorrow-panic-relief-fury-horror. Danielle has to reinforce her barrier between her soul and the girl’s to avoid being swept away by it all. All of the dead girls Danielle is called to are strong, and this one is no different. Danielle can’t hear her clearly over the roar of her emotions, but this one is talking very quickly.
…live…wanted to…please…save…
Danielle peeks out from under her eyelashes. It’s bright for a battlefield, but there’s a familiar red staining the ground as far as she can see. The armored feet of both sides’ soldiers are about thirty feet away, a hazy barrier of magic holding them apart.
“Let down this barrier!” Knight David screams. The girl’s knowledge flows into Danielle’s mind like a spring. He’s the head of the kingdom’s number one knight squad, a former S-rank adventurer, and a mentor to the Hero. He bangs the hilt his sword against the Dark Lord’s barrier. It crackles under the assault and doesn’t break. Knight David swears. “You’ll die for what you did! She was just a little girl!”
Another memory: Knight David didn’t think of her as a little girl. He gave her a woman’s sword that took her a month to learn how to lift, much less wield. He told her he had faith in her. He told her she could do it. When she asked how, he pushed a curl behind her ear and told her victory was fated.
The Dark Lord laughs, the sound like the tide retreating into the sea. “Is the kingdom so hard-pressed for soldiers they bring children to the battlefield?”
“She was Chosen,” Knight David says. There are genuine tears in his voice. “Nobody wanted that for her. Nobody.”
“She was nobody,” the Dark Lord says. The magic barrier trembles and he smirks. “Just as you’re about to be.”
Knight David’s magic sets his sword ablaze. “You’ll pay for this.”
The demons chitter behind the Dark Lord, straining against his commands. They want blood. They want to attack. They saw the Hero fall and they’re emboldened by her death. They’ll tear the humans apart.
In contrast, Knight David’s forces aren’t so sure. Knight David’s teeth gnash and he swears at the Dark Lord, but his men look from her body to each other. It was so quick. So fast. Did they demons hold greater power than they were told to kill a Chosen One so quickly?
“Prepare yourselves,” the Dark Lord says. The barrier fades.
“To the death,” Knight David swears.
Danielle presses again. They’re running out of time. What do you want?
Save them.
The words roar through Danielle’s temporary body. Save them. Her magic ignites like coal in a furnace and she gasps, steam escaping from her lips as a dead girl’s heart restarts.
“W-what?” someone whispers.
Danielle opens her eyes.
It’s not a very big war. There are maybe thirty combatants on the side of the Kingdom. She assumed from the girl’s memories that they’d all be knights, but there are adventurers mixed in among them as well as the occasional wizard. They’re all kitted out in the colors of the Kingdom though. Armor painted with the Royal family’s crest, bandanas with the fallen star motif embroidered on, red tassels on their weapons. Maybe they don’t have the Kingdom’s army behind them, but they have the King’s favor.
The Dark Lord is the only one who’s managed to keep his mouth shut after her sudden resurrection. His side is comprised of dark wizards in tattered robes and nearly a hundred demons. Danielle can see wolves the size of horses, goblins with wooden clubs, and vampires hiding in the tree line. It looks impressive, but the girl’s memories tell Danielle a different story.
This is the last stand for both sides.
“The Hero lives,” Knight David says through bloodless lips. He’s younger than Danielle thought, his beard only just touched with silver. His eyes shine wetly and he raises his sword over his head. “THE HERO LIVES!”
Knights, adventurers, and wizards lean back and scream their jubilation to the sky. Some of them weep openly, staggering as close to her as the Dark Lord’s barrier allows with their hands spread wide as if to embrace her.
The Dark Lord is silent as the kingdom’s forces rejoice. He looks like a human though he’s gone to great lengths to hide that fact. His long, black hair is twisted around his horns, emphasizing them. His clothes are as tattered as his forces’ and there’s dried blood staining the hem of his cape. His nails are long and painted an unending black that makes them look like talons.
If it weren’t for the depth and darkness of his magic, he wouldn’t register to Danielle as a Dark Lord at all.
“Hero,” the Dark Lord murmurs. His red eyes gleam a beat before his pupils swell, turning them black. He doesn’t raise his voice above the noise, but magic makes it so Danielle can hear him easily. “Killing you quickly was the last mercy I had for you.”
“Mercy,” Danielle says. The word echoes from her involuntarily. She pulls the arrow from the dead girl’s chest. The wet and meaty sound of it finally silences Knight David and his allies. She coughs and tastes blood.
“The fates have seen the justness of our cause and protected the Hero,” Knight David says into the silence.
“Fate,” Danielle echoes and coughs blood again.
Knight David doesn’t hear her. His chest swells. A talented orator, he knows just what to say to erase the horror of her death and reinvigorate his squad. “Dark Lord -no! – Demon, you’ve lost.” He points his sword directly at the Dark Lord. “You just don’t know it yet.” The knights cheer.
Oh, Danielle thinks, he knows it.
The Dark Lord stares down the length of Knight David’s blade impassively. His lip curls into a sneer that must look truly demonic to the knights of the kingdom. But from her vantage point, Danielle can see the way his clenched fists tremble. The barrier wavers imperceptibly and then holds. The Dark Lord can’t sustain it for much longer, not if he wants to have enough magic to fight.
As soon as it falls, the kingdom will strike. And, with the Hero on their side, they’ll have the conviction (and the magic) to take on a thousand demons. The Dark Lord only has a hundred.
Danielle staggers to her feet. This body is on the weaker side of the ones she has inhabited, but it’s not the worst she’s had to work with. Her legs hold her weight and the heart beats strongly once she uses her magic to patch it.
Knight David grins at her, the fever of battle bright in his eyes. “Hero!” He holds out his hand. “How glad I am to see you alive! Cast your strengthening spell.”
A memory: They taught her to strengthen her allies and nothing else. Training sessions ran late into the night as they pushed her to expand her range, power them up more, amplify magic higher and higher. This girl knows exhaustion more intimately than the affection of another.
Knight David slashes the barrier. He doesn’t wait to see if she’ll obey. Of course she will. This dead girl has never defied him before. She owes him and his kingdom too much. Who else would elevate an orphan to the heights of a Hero? He strikes again and this time his blow leaves a crack in the Dark Lord’s magic that splinters out like a spiderweb. He grins meanly. “Come, soldiers! Reclaim our land! Defend our home! Defeat evil!”
The knights smash their weapons against their shields and bare their teeth. “For our homes! For our families! For good!”
“Kill,” the Dark Lord hisses as his barrier fails piece by piece. He leans towards Knight David like a snake about to strike. A sword as black as night materializes in his hand. “Kill them all.”
“Hey,” Danielle says, “don’t you think you’re moving on a little fast?”
Nobody hears her. Nobody asks her if she’s alright. Nobody cares.
It’s Danielle’s curse to care.
The Dark Lord’s barrier crumbles. The air fractures and fragments tumble from the top and towards the combatants on either side like sparks. It’s ten feet in the air, eight feet, seven feet--
Her magic billows from her like smoke, scorching the grass as it balloons forward. Blood burns and vaporizes under the heat. The wolves are the first to notice it. They whine and back away from her wave of power, cowering behind their lord. Danielle hisses through her teeth and her power surges a little faster, touching the Dark Lord’s magic before the demons can alert their master. She’s powerful enough to do this even with him fighting her, but that would be…messy. She wrests control of the barrier from the Dark Lord. She builds it back up to twenty feet tall and adds new walls. The King’s forces used to be the only ones trapped. Now the Dark Lord turns and blinks at the misty cage that’s formed around him and his army.
The sudden silence hurts her ears as hundreds of eyes follow the scorch marks from the barrier to her.
Knight David’s sword wavers. “Hero…?”
“Your Hero isn’t here anymore,” Danielle says. Experience tells her to rip this bandage off quickly. She gestures to the dead girl’s clouded eyes. “Did you really think she survived an arrow to her heart?”
She can see from their faces that they did. Knight David opens his mouth and then closes it. He swallows hard. He says, “You’re not—” His face hardens. “Who are you?”
The Dark Lord watches her with black eyes, but he’s not still. His power tests her control of his barrier. He doesn’t find a crack.
“You called it fate,” Danielle says. She limps towards them. There’s an arrow in the girl’s thigh she didn’t notice before. She pulls it out without breaking stride and throws it to the side. The furnace that’s consumed the dead girl’s heart churns with rage. “You lot always believe in fate. Makes everything you do look prettier, doesn’t it? More palatable.”
“It is fate. The Oracles of Trilbia spoke of a girl with untold power who would be our savior. We needed—”
“LOOK AT HER!” Danielle roars. She slams a hand against her chest and then holds her palm high overhead. Red shines wetly on her palm. “She was a child! Fifteen summers and you stand there and call her a savior?”
“I ask again,” Knight David says. His eyes flash. “Who are you?” He draws his sword point slowly, purposefully, away from the Dark Lord. He points it directly at her. “What have you done to the Hero?”
Danielle won’t answer stupid questions. “You’re cruel. What you did to her – nothing can justify it. Especially not something as fickle as fate.”
“The Oracles—”
“Should die,” Danielle interrupts. She bares her teeth. “Or at least be honest. If they wanted a child sacrifice, they should have killed her on an altar with their own hands.”
Knight David hits her barrier. It throws him back and he shakes with rage. “Who. Are. You?”
“And you,” Danielle says, turning her attention to the Dark Lord. She holds her bloodied palm out to him. “You speak of mercy. You think giving her a quick death mercy?”
To his credit, he doesn’t deny it or flinch away. He nods shallowly, eyes never leaving hers.
“There was mercy, I’ll give you that,” Danielle says. She staggers towards him and stops just short of the barrier. They’re barely two feet apart when she says, “It was her mercy that she died quickly. Not yours.”
The Dark Lord’s nostrils flare. “I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Danielle promises. Her heart aches. This isn’t the time for that. She stokes the fires of her magic until steam escapes from her lips again. Only then does she twist towards Knight David again. “You killed this girl. You threw her into battle untrained. They may have shot her, but it was you who brought her here. This is your fault.”
“You’re some malevolent spirit,” Knight David says. He sweeps one arm out as if to banish her. Behind him, his forces tremble. “A vile devil come to sow seeds of doubt. Our conviction is firm. Oh, monstrous devil! Release our friend, release the Hero and your end may be swift yet.”
Devil? Danielle loses hold of her rage for a moment. Yes, yes she supposes she is. There are forces at play here that she might call devilish. But being called a devil by him?
Ridiculous.
“Maybe you should pray,” Danielle suggests. She nods slowly, warming to the suggestion. “Yes, that’s what you should do. You should pray the big, bad devil away.” She approaches his side of the barrier and the grass withers under her feet. “Pray, Knight David.”
“Hold fast,” Knight David says to his knights. He raises his sword to her and braces himself. “Do not be swayed by—”
“No, don’t pray,” Danielle says. She laughs without humor, chest shuddering with the effort. “Prophecize. Summon a hero to defeat me. Go on. Do it.”
“You will pay for the horrors you’ve committed today. Wearing the skin of the Chosen One damns you to the furthest—”
“Oh, fine, I’ll do it for you. There will be a knight,” Danielle says. She lurches forward and presses her hands against her barrier. Knight David stumbles back when it moves with her, allowing her closer and closer. She laughs again. “A Knight with red splashed across his breast and his shining sword melded to his hand.”
Knight David chokes on a scream as her words become truth. His sword melts under a sudden wave of heat, the silver-plating dripping through his fingers. He falls to his knees and grabs his wrist, trying to shake his hand free of the molten metal. It cools as rapidly as it melted, and he stares in horror as the silver binds his fingers to the hilt forevermore.
Danielle comes closer and the kingdom’s forces flex away from her like a school of fish in the face of a predator. “And this knight,” she says, “will be a Hero to his people. He will rise through his pain and destroy the devil that wore the skin of the little girl he sent to slaughter.” She spreads her arms wide above him, the sun beating down on her crown, and waits. After a beat she says, “Go on. Make the prophecy come true. Stab me. I’m waiting.”
Knight David keens through clenched teeth. “Y-you monster. You w-won’t—” He breathes in deeply and glares up at her. His feeble attempts to raise his arm don’t move his sword more than an inch. “You won’t break me.”
“I don’t have to,” Danielle says. Her arms fall to her sides, and she looms over the fallen knight. The air isn’t sweet now. The smell of burning flesh is more familiar than blood. “She didn’t ask me to break you.”
“Didn’t ask?”
Danielle turns. Unlike the knights, the Dark Lord isn’t backing away from her. He’s as close as he can get, pressed right up against the barrier. He’s rearranged his forces while she wasn’t looking so that the hardier demons are shielding the smaller.
“Didn’t ask,” Danielle agrees. She taps her temple. “Right before she died, I asked her what she wanted. See, nobody here gave a fuck what she wanted before she died. Fate is fake, but belief isn’t. They believed hard enough that the universe heard their pathetic little prayers for a savior. And, at the end, it took pity, but not on them. No one cared so it sent me. I asked what she wanted. She answered. Now we’re here.”
Knight David shudders at her feet.
“Are you a spirit of vengeance then?” the Dark Lord asks very casually. His shoulders are tense, undermining his nonchalance. He speaks a touch too loudly and very carefully doesn’t look back at his army. “Is that it?”
“I’m what she asked for,” Danielle says. She eyes Knight David’s comrades. There’s a wizard somewhere in there valiantly trying to heal Knight David’s wounds from afar. It’s slow going so she ignores it. “Though, between you and me, I think some vengeance is owed here, don’t you?”
The Dark Lord’s jaw flexes. “It is.” He raises his chin. “And you shall have it. I only ask that you let my people go. They are blameless in all this and only had the bad fortune to follow a misguided lord—”
Howls and screams of protest drown out his words. The demons lunge against his orders, mouths frothing and eyes wide in fear. They don’t want their lord to die, they deny his words, they can’t bear to lose him.
The Dark Lord’s power snaps over them and they quiet all at once, voices stolen by his power.
“Let it only be me. Please,” the Dark Lord finishes quietly.
Danielle watches him with interest. “You would die for them?”
“I return the loyalty I’ve been given.” He bows his head. “I will beg if you’d like.”
“What makes you believe I want your death?”
“I know my part in the Hero’s fate,” the Dark Lord says. His lips thin and he stares down at Knight David with more hatred than she thought possible. “Humans brought her here to slaughter, but I gave the order. I called it mercy to kill a child quickly so she need not suffer. We both know I lied. I killed her to keep her from strengthening the kingdom. No matter how I did it, it wasn’t mercy. It was evil and it was…not necessary. It wasn’t necessary but it was easier than the alternatives and so I killed her. I resigned myself to carrying that sin before I ever stepped foot onto the battlefield.”
Oh. Danielle has to blink very quickly as heat rises behind her eyes. The Dark Lord isn’t lying. He isn’t hiding from the truth of his actions nor is he justifying his hand in the Hero’s death. There is sorrow in his voice and his hands are loose at his sides even though his eyes are watchful, waiting for her to strike. He’d let me strike him down. He will stand there and do nothing while I slit his throat.
“It was wrong,” Danielle says. Her throat aches. “It was wrong to kill her.”
The Dark Lord’s head sinks lower. “Yes. It was.”
“She was a child.”
“She was.”
“She didn’t have a choice.”
“I know.”
“She deserved better.”
“Yes.”
Danielle’s chin trembles. This— after all the dead girls, this is a first. “You did it to save your domain.”
“I did.”
“It was evil.”
“Yes. The most evil thing I’ve done.”
“She didn’t ask me to kill you.”
“Ye—what?” The Dark Lord blinks, finally looking back up at her. His eyes are red again, pupils dilated. “She didn’t?”
“No.” Danielle lets the barrier slip out of her control. She can see the Dark Lord more clearly without the wall of smoke and his eyes are more than just red. They’re red-rimmed. Danielle reaches up with her bloodied palm and cups the Dark Lord’s cheek. He shudders at the chill of her touch but doesn’t pull away. “You had no mercy today, but she did. She knew her power would mean the end of your people. She knew she would not be able to resist the order to cast her spell when they gave it. So when the first volley came, she didn’t run. She didn’t raise her shield.”
“Mercy,” the Dark Lord breathes in revelation. His face crumples. “Oh.”
“She died quickly,” Danielle says. The girl’s memories are so hot that Danielle feels burned. All the dead girls are strong. This one is not an exception. “She knew an evil thing would be done today. She chose. She chose.”
The Dark Lord’s voice is thick with tears. “She shouldn’t have had to. She—No!”
Danielle doesn’t know what’s happened at first. The Dark Lord is staring at her in mute horror. His cheek is stained red but her hand is no longer on his cheek. Then she processes that she’s been hit quite hard in the back. She looks down.
A bloody sword is sticking out of her chest. It retracts with a sickly sound and Danielle finds herself on her knees, staring down at the river of blood gushing from her breast. She let down her barrier to speak to the Dark Lord, face to face. She didn’t think she’d be leaving her back open to the other side. Or, rather, she didn’t think Knight David would recover enough to kill her again.
“The devil speaks lies,” Knight David says. His words are thin with pain. He can no longer raise his blade to the sky. His arm is trembling from the effort of stabbing her but still he faces his forces and spurs them to action. “And lies have no place in our kingdom! Our friend, our Hero died for us! So we could win! So we could prosper! So we could—”
He killed her again.
Danielle surges to her feet. The dead girl’s heart is torn to pieces in her chest, but Danielle’s magic surges through her veins like blood. She rises up behind Knight David and shrieks, “Stop killing her!” She drives her hand through Knight David’s chest and rips out his heart.
It happens too fast for anyone to react. The Dark Lord holds his breath and the world goes still. Danielle lets the heart fall and the thud as it hits the grass is loud in the quiet.
Knight David sways once, twice, and then drops to the bloodied ground.
“You didn’t have to die,” Danielle says. She’s looking at the other knights and adventurers and idiots who believed in fate. She’s talking to Knight David. “Even after everything you put her through, she didn’t want you dead. She was good. She was great. And you killed her for it.”
“Mercy,” someone stutters. Then, another. “Mercy, please.”
“No,” Danielle says. Petulant. Like a child. “You didn’t stop him. Not a single one of you tried. She didn’t tell me to save you.”
They combust before they can run. A long time ago, her power wasn’t as controlled. Her fire didn’t get hot enough fast enough. They screamed back then. Screamed and wailed and cursed.
Her fire doesn’t give them a chance to curse her now.
When it is done and she’s satisfied that nothing but ashes remain, she turns to the Dark Lord. He doesn’t flinch from her though there’s fear in his eyes. Even now, he expects her to kill him. Even now he accepts it.
“Bury her,” Danielle says. The fire crackles behind her. “Clean her body and dress her in new clothes. Bury her somewhere where war hasn’t touched and say something kind over her grave.”
The Dark Lord swallows twice before he can speak. He doesn’t ask if this means she’s going to leave him alive. He understands what she means. He says, “I-I will.”
“She saved you,” Danielle says. She wants him to understand that. “She could have wished for anything. Revenge. Peace. A second chance. She didn’t. She wished to save you.”
“She will be honored,” the Dark Lord says. He breathes in deeply and gently reaches out to cup her cheek, an imitation of her earlier touch. His palm is warm against her cold skin. If he is repulsed by the feel of death, he doesn’t show it. “I will see to it.”
Danielle closes her eyes. Though she doesn’t lean into his touch, she doesn’t pull away. It is the singularly most affectionate moment she’s experienced in decades, but it’s not for her. “Her name is Samira.”
The Dark Lord releases his breath. “Samira. Thank you for telling me her name.”
Danielle lets her curse sweep her to the next dead girl.
----------------
Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see stories like this or some more serialized stories, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! Currently I’m working on the Cinderella retelling I have posted on here :)
See y’all next week!
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Smoke Eater - Part 13
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 7,200
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.
Part 13: “Boiling Point”
Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.
This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.
You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.
Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…
But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.
Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.
The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.
“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.
You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.
“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”
Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”
You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.
You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.
You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently, it was.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.
It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.
“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”
“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”
Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.
“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”
“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”
You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.
“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.
You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.
She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”
You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.
“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”
“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”
A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.
“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.
He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)
Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.
“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.
You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.
“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”
“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.
“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”
Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.
“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.
You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”
“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”
You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?
“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”
Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.
He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”
Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”
You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.
Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.
“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.
The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.
Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.
“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”
You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.
“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.
“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”
You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.
“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.
You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”
Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.
“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.
Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.
You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.
A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).
It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.
And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”
When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.
“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.
You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.
“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”
“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.
“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”
“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.
He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”
Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.
“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.
Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”
“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”
You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?
“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.
Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”
“You think?” Dean asked.
You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.
“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.
You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.
At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.
There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.
“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”
He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.
“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”
He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.
“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”
His eyes met yours knowingly.
You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”
You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.
Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.
Fucking frat bros.
“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.
“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.
It made you realize something.
As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?
The rest of your life?
Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.
If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.
You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.
So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.
“Hey,” you whispered.
His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”
“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.
“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.
You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”
Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”
A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.
“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”
Your hand tightened on his wrist.
“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”
Dean nodded, and you stood.
“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”
You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.
“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”
Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.
“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.
Benny whistled.
“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”
Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”
Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.
“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.
Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.
Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.
She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.
Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…
Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.
She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.
“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”
Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.
“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”
Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”
Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.
“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.
Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”
You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.
You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.
A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.
“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.
The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.
Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.
“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.
“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.
Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.
You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.
His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”
You shoved his hand off of you.
“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”
Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.
You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.
He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.
Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.
Please—
And the hand was peeled away entirely.
You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.
Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.
It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.
The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.
“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.
“What?” Nick choked.
You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.
“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.
“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”
Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.
“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”
“Dean,” you gasped.
“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”
You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.
“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”
Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.
“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”
Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.
“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”
Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.
“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.
Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.
“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”
Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.
Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.
“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”
“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”
Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.
Nick met his eyes.
“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”
He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”
Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”
Once again, Nick smirked.
“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”
Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.
But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.
“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.
The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.
“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”
Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.
“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”
Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.
Winchester, Nick thought.
Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.
“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”
When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.
Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.
He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.
The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.
You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)
He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.
“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”
Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”
Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.
The car was silent for the rest of the hour.
It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.
Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.
You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.
With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.
“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”
You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“It started before I even met you, Dean.”
His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.
“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”
You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.
When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.
And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.
All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.
But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.
At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.
I should've told him, you thought. You knew.
Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.
Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”
“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.
“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”
Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.
“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.
“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”
He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.
“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”
You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.
Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.
“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”
Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.
“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”
You bit your lip and shook your head.
“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”
“He can fucking try,” he snapped.
“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.
A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.
“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”
He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.
Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.
“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”
The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.
Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.
He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.
“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”
After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.
You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.
Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.
You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.
“Dean,” you called.
He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Come ‘ere a sec?”
He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.
“Can you unzip me?” you asked.
Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.
Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.
Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.
But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.
His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.
“Baby?” you asked.
Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.
You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.
“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.
Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.
He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.
“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”
You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.
“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”
You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.
You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.
“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”
You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.
“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.
You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.
“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”
“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.
You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.
“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”
Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.
You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.
Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.
AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).
Next Time:
The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...
“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.
“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”
You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.
“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.
“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”
Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?
Keep Reading: PART 14
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
#Boiling Point#Smoke Eater#Part 13#dean winchester#Firefighter!Dean Winchester#dean winchester x reader#Dean Winchester x female reader#firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader#dean winchester x you#firefighter AU#dean winchester AU#spn#supernatural#benny lafitte#zepskies writes
362 notes
·
View notes
Text
Winter's King 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: we vibing.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Jazlene comes to with a wispy sigh. You back up and stand as her mother helps her to her feet. The king is back at the table, unbothered by the overcome maiden. Lord Dustan hovers between, torn by loyalty to his liege and his family. New liege, that is. Only yesterday, he was toasting to good King Waleran.
“My apologies, your highness,” Jazlene fans herself with her hand, “I was only surprised. I didn’t... How could I expect this? To marry a king?” She reaches down to grip her mother’s arm, shakily stepping forward towards the king who doesn’t even glance up from the table of maps, “I promise to you, your highness, I will be a good wife to you.”
The king tilts his head, tracing a finger along a ridge of mountains, then leans in to examine the riverbeds below. Jazlene looks at her mother, an expression of concern on her pretty features. She is rarely ignored, if at all. She will make sure that she isn’t.
“Lord Dustan, I expect the dowry will be served along with your men and my kingdom,” the king declares, “but now, I find myself fatigued. A hard day’s ride sees me in need of bath and a bed.”
Dustan bows his head, “and so you will have it, your highness. I will send down for water--”
“Have the maid see to it,” the king waves his hand vaguely in your direction, “certainly a servant is a servant.”
“Yes, your highness, how wise,” Dustan simpers, as he often does to men with titles above his own. “You,” the duke turns and snaps his fingers, “you heard the king. He requires hot water in his chamber.”
You keep your head down, “yes, my lord.”
You spin without hesitation. You’re all too happy to be free of the noble intrigue. It is rather easier to be unseen and unthought of. It has ever kept you from envying these ladies and their silks and these lords and their golden signets.
Your flight is fleet. You rush down the corridor and to the wide stairwell. You descend with your mission and pass Merinda as she paces listlessly outside the kitchens. She stops you with an arm across your path.
“There are whispers,” she says lowly, “of who visits. Is it true?”
You look at her. You don’t know if you should say. It isn’t her place and you don’t know what they say. There is rather much gossip in castles.
“It is,” she hisses, “you don’t need to say it. You are a poor liar and when you say nothing, I know that is the reason.”
Your lips pinch and you give her a look, “I have been sent to draw a bath.”
“Oh, is the lady in need of her evening boil?” Merinda snickers.
“Not her.”
Merinda quiets and tilts her head, “...him?”
“The king,” you answer thinly.
She nods and steps closer, “is he... I don’t understand. His soldiers, they mill about with our own, they cavort together. Not as enemies. Are they not invading? Do they not mean to take the castle?”
You tear your eyes away. She’s right, you are a poor liar. You lean in, lips right by her ear, you whisper, “Lord Dustan has new allegiances.”
She claps her hand over her mouth as you back up. She stares at you with wide eyes. She slowly drops her arm and her lip quivers, “he means to get us all killed.”
You push your shoulders up, “think only of today. It’s all we can do. Oh, do you know where the king’s chambers would be?”
“Mm, they took his saddlebags to the ivory room. I think there,” she answers, “do you require assistance?”
“Stay here,” you gird, “he is a brusque man.”
That only seems to worry her more as her face twists. You can’t help but feel the same inside but you do your best not to let it show. You leave her and carry on to your task.
You put the kitchen hands to boiling water and send a few others to find a tub to bring to the king’s chambers. You help where you can and take the first bucket up. You pour it into the large tub in the ivory room and return for second, a third, a forth, and fifth. There will be many more even as your arms ache and your nap slickens with sweat.
Upon the eight, when the tub looks near halfway, the chamber is not empty. You’re surprised by the king’s presence as the door remains ajar. You pour the water with a low apology and diligent ‘your highness.’ He doesn’t respond.
There is much to go still. Back down, up again, hot water splashing on your sleeves, singing beneath, dumping it over the edge as you keep your eyes on your work. Do not be more than a piece of furniture. You are only air.
At the last bucket, you pour slowly, careful not to slosh over the edges. As you right the empty pail, you hear a metal chink. The king growls into a long exhale. You turn towards the door.
“Close it,” he commands, “you will remain.”
You’re happy he cannot see the look on your face. You obey and close the door. You turn back, standing by the pillar of the door frame, as you often do, and begin your vigil. It should not be unexpected that he may require you to fetch something further for him.
Your eyes catch the bottom of his mail as he lifts it over his head. No, don’t look. He undresses, leather creaking, fabric rustling, pacing as he strips away each piece. You grip the rope handle of the bucket. He circles the long tub and nears you. You cower, bracing. You are not noticed, you are not approached, unless it is for rebuke.
He grabs the bucket by the brim and tugs. You let it go. He turns and sets it on the floor away from you. You push your hands together, stilling a tremble. He wears only his breeches and you catch a glimpse of the thatch of hair along his thick stomach. You gulp and twine your fingers through each other.
He turns away and crosses the room. You listen to the fabric fall from around his hips. Your eyes bore into the floorboards. The water shifts as he climbs into the tub and you listen to him groan as he lowers himself into the depths. The steam mingles with the tension of his silence.
He sighs and stirs the water. The lull persists as you wait. He will need wine or food.
“Come,” he bids and your eyes flick up. The tub conceals much of his lower body as his thick shoulders and arms stretch around the brim. “I have a knot.”
You approach hesitantly, unsure where to aim your eyes the closer you get. He gestures around his head, “stand behind me.”
You do as he tells you.
He sits up slightly and bends his head forward, lifting his white hair out of the way, “here.”
He points along the muscle beside his neck. It’s thick, just like all of him. You’ve never seen a man built like that. There are stringy barn boys and tubby cooks.
You stare and raise a hand, hovering it over his muscle. Are you supposed to touch him? He is a king and you are a servant. You are a servant sold out of pig shit into servitude.
His large hand reaches for yours and he guides it down. You shake before he lets you go. You feel the muscle, almost curious, and rub lightly. He makes a noise but you’re unsure of its tenor.
“Harder,” he demands, “squeeze,” he shows his hand, making a kneading motion, “you cannot hurt me.” You do as he says. You squeeze and he rests his hand against the tub, “harder,” he repeats.
You obey.
His head hangs as his long strands touch the water. You bring your other hand up as your efforts make your tendons sore. He lets out shallow breaths and hissing groans. Your chest thumps at the sounds that rise from him.
“Your master has broken his oath and sworn a new one to me. And you, does that make me your master as well? If I am your master’s master?” He asks slyly.
You focus on your hands, “your highness?”
“Answer, don’t be afraid. Liars bore me.”
You sniff and mull your reply. You don’t know. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“Lord Dustan is my master. I am bound to serve him.”
He snorts and lifts his head. You rescind your touch but he reaches back to latch onto your again. He tugs you forward, placing your hand back on his shoulder.
“Softer now,” he instructs. You rub his damp flesh as he bends a leg, his knee poking above the water. “You, a servant, so low, and you are more loyal than any man with a title.”
“Your highness, I must serve.”
“As he must. Did he not swear himself to the old king? Eh? War does muddy the waters,” he muses, “coin does test old ties.”
You say nothing. Your comment isn’t warranted or wanted. You know better. Jazlene taught you only to answer when asked.
“Very well,” he taps your fingers, “I feel better. You have a kind touch.”
You back away and wipe your hands on your apron. He hangs his head back and puffs. He closes his eyes. You watch the white waves made wilder by the humidity of the bath.
“I hate sleeping in strange places,” he says, “you will stay for the eve.”
You tuck your chin down and fold your hands together. Your scalp sweats beneath your cap, your shorn locks itchy with the heat. You wet your lips and force out the air trapped in your chest, “yes, your highness. As my master bid, I will serve you.”
He says nothing more as he leans back against the tub completely. His large arms frame the metal and his hands wrap around the edges. He closes his shining eyes in recline, the water still and steaming. He stays that way until the damp heat dissipates. You stand locked in his thrall.
He sits forward suddenly, the water stirring with his movement. He turns his hand and beckons with his thick fingers.
“A bath sheet,” he demands.
You go to the chest in the corner and open it. You retrieve a folded swath of fabric and bring it to him. He stands as you unfold the length of linen to obscure his form. Your eyes are on the ceiling as the water slakes from his figure and he looms large above you.
He steps out, close to you, and puts his hands over yours. He pulls the sheet around his body, your arms too. He releases you only as he adjusts the fabric around his waist and you retract with humiliation nipping in your cheeks. You lean back on your heel as you shrink in his shadow.
“Your highness, do you require refreshment? Wine? Sweetmeats?”
“I did not ask for it,” he says, “I am tired.”
“Apologies, your highness.”
“Do not apologise for doing your duty. Would be a fairer world if more were so diligent.”
He turns and strides away. There’s a knapsack and bedroll against the wall. He keeps one hand on the sheet and unbuckles the flap, reaching within and tugging out a bed shirt. He drops the sheet away and your eyes flit away from his nakedness. He has no shame but you are merely a servant. He shouldn’t care for your witness.
He swipes the fabric over his head and it falls just to his thighs, concealing just enough to have him decent. His thick legs are trimmed in dark hair and the muscles are taut beneath his skin. He faces the bed and pulls back the quilt and linen. He pauses and looks up at you.
“Will you sleep afoot then?” He wonders.
“Your highness?” You wince. “I must...” you peer around, “empty the bath.”
“Must you? Stagnant water can wait,” he insists. “Come.”
You waver, skirts rippling around your legs. You step forward and stagger.
“The lantern, your highness?” You inquire.
“Douse the light if you will,” he allows. “And come.”
You do as he bids and snuff out the flame. Your vision is left blackened and formless. You reach out blindly, realising your error too late. You can’t see much as you walk warily towards the bed. The heavy curtains are shut and block out the sliver of moonlight.
Your knees hit the bed and you gasp. You catch yourself before you can fall forward, leaning against the mattress. You’re stuck like that, uncertain if you should go forward or back. Something wraps around your wrist, a stolid heat.
“I often sleep with my horse,” the king says as he draws you onto the bed. “I need a warm body close.”
You go rigid as you let him command your body. He guides you to lay down and tugs the bedclothes over you. The damp specks on your dress and apron cling to your skin. He leads your head over his thick arm as he lays on his back neck to you. You stare into the endless void of the canopy.
“The horse smells much worse and snores,” he muses, his arm curling around your shoulders, offering a more comfortable rest for your head and neck. You quiver at being so close. It is an odd request but you daren’t decline it. “Be still,” his other hand comes to touch your sleeve, “and sleep. I only mean to ease my own unrest.”
You close your eyes and exhale. Your heart is pounding and your body is tingling. You don’t think you can sleep with the surge flowing through you. He sighs and shifts slightly. You lay there, in silence, only the noise of his breath and yours to fill the castle walls.
“I am awake,” he says. “Speak to me, maid. Tell me, where do you lay your head on nights where a king does not trouble you?”
You wiggle slightly. Your spine is uncomfortable at the flatness but not worse than your usual fare. You bring your hand over your chest and fist your fingers tight.
“On a bag of hay with Merinda,” you utter smally, pushing your legs together as you arch your back slightly. Your hips are tight.
You’re startled as the bed jostles and he grips your hip. He rolls you onto your side, his touch lingers as he pulls you against him. He is as hot as a hearth.
“Merinda?” He repeats.
“Another handmaid, your highness.”
He hums and drags his hand away from your hip. He blows out a great heavy and grunts. His arm curls around you snugly.
“I hope I am preferable to that bag of hay,” he mutters and the tension seeps away from his form. “Though perhaps just as prickly.”
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher#winter's king#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#medieval au
261 notes
·
View notes
Text
Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU
Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace Thank you for your beautiful comments! And for the ones that gave me ideas, trust me, I'm taking them into account ;)
LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 (You're here) , PART 9
A little more of "The Dragon's Call"
Arthur: (at the feast waiting anxiously because Merlin is supposed to save him from "Lady Helen" to become his servant today and he isn't there yet)
Uther: Are you alright, Arthur?
Arthur: (too quickly) Yeah, right, excelent, never better.
Uther: You've been acting strange lately.
Arthur: (thinking) Well it's not easy to act normal around your dead father and your dead sister who wanted you dead. (says) I just haven't been sleeping well. I had... nightmares. Very long nightmares.
Uther: I see... (Thinking) I hope Morgana's condition isn't contagious.
Merlin: (Finally arrives with Gaius at the feast)
Arthur: (turns and his eyes find Merlin's almost immediately)
Merlin: (Thinking, while he looks at Arthur in the distance) Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?
Arthur: (Noticing Merlin is without his neckerchief, and he is so young and so beautiful, and he doesn't have his neckerchief on!) Gods have mercy!
Morgana: (enters in her breathtaking dress)
Merlin: (stares at her, but with a mix of longing and guilt)
Gwen: She looks great, doesn't she?
Merlin: (smiling sadly) Yeah...
Gwen: Some people are just born to be queen.
Merlin: (almost shouting) NO!
Gwen: There's no need to sound so disturbed.
Merlin: (composing himself) I'm sorry just... I think she could do better than Arthur that's all. (Thinking) And with someone that is not her brother.
Gwen: He's not so bad.
Merlin: (confused cause Gwen was supposed to agree with him) What do you mean? He was bullying a servant only a few days ago!
Gwen: I remmember. You confronted him about it.
Merlin: See? A total prat.
Gwen: And he also recognised his mistake and apologised. And he didn't arrest you for insulting him in front of his knights though that's technically treason.
Merlin: Okay, maybe not a total prat, but still a prat. (Thinking, worried) He was too nice indeed. Perhaps I was too harsh on him this time?
Morgana: (seeing Arthur is watching in Merlin and Gwen's direction) Have your eye on someone?
Arthur: (Cold) No.
Morgana: (playfully) Is it Gwen? or perhaps-
Arthur: Let's sit. Lady Helen will arrive at any moment (goes to his sit)
Morgana: ... Sure (thinking, while she goes to her sit) What's wrong with him?
Uther: (making an announcement) We have enjoyed 20 years of piece and prosperity....
Arthur: (thinking, resentfully) 20 years of genocide and lies.
Uther: ...It has brought to the kingdom and myself many pleasures but few can compare to the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.
Lady Helen: (enters while people clap)
Arthur: (looks at Merlin in the distance)
Merlin: (very concentrated with his eyes on the chandelier, waiting for lady Helen to stand under it)
Arthur: (smiling to himself, thinking) So that's how you did it.
Everyone falls asleep, except for Arthur who does feel sleepy but is still slightly awake for some reason, so he gets to witness when all the room is filled with spiderwebs and Merlin uses his magic to make the chandelier fall over Helen, who is soon reveal to be Mary Collins.
Arthur: (confused) What... (thinking) Why didn't I fall completely asleep?
Merlin: (whose magic hasn't been able to freeze time since he traveled back in time, but he doesn't know why) Come on, come on! (Tries again to stop time but doesn't work) Damn it! (Shouts and runs to Arthur) ARTHUR!
Mary Collins: (throws the knife at Arthur)
Merlin: (covers Arthur with his body on time and the knife stabs his back)
Arthur: (horrified) NO! (Holding Merlin as they fall to the floor) No, no, no, no! You idiot, what were you thinking?!
Gaius: (running to Merlin) Merlin!
Uther: Who is this?
Gaius: My ward. (checks Merlin) We need to move him to my tower as carefully and quickly as possible. I can't pull the knife out here, he'll bleed to death.
Merlin: (smiling weakely at Arthur) I did it. (Tears of happiness) I did... (Starts closing his eyes).
Arthur: (panic mode) No! don't you dare die on me! (carries him as Gaius instructed) You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay. Stay with me (thinking) Please, don't leave me again. I just got you back. I can't lose you again.
Time skip. Merlin wakes up in Gaius's tower and with his wound bandaged. The knife didn't puncture anything important, but apparently the blade was poisoned. Fortunately, it was a pretty common one and Gaius took care of it rather quickly. Gaius scolds him for scaring him as expected but then hugs him gently and tells him he must not do any effort for at least 2 weeks and rest. Just as Gaius leaves for some herbs, Arthur enters to check on him.
Arthur: Better do as he says. I can't have my personal manservant injuring himself.
Merlin: Personal manservant?
Arthur: My father, the king, decided to reward you for saving my life by granting you a place at the royal household.
Merlin: (happy inside, but pretending to be annoyed) As your personal manservant? Couldn't he just give me gold or something?
Arthur: (playing along) Most would consider it a great honor.
Merlin: Well, I'm not like most people.
Arthur: (laughs a little) You certainly aren't. (Gets close and checks him out little, cause he's never seen Merlin without a shirt before and damn it! is hard not to stare, but as soon as his eyes land on the bandage, he turns serious) What you did was very brave... and stupid. You shouldn't have done that.
Merlin: (still mocking) If that's your way to say "Thank you for saving my life", well, yeah, I'm starting to regret saving your royal ass.
Arthur: I'm serious. Now you're my manservant, therefore my responsability and my concern. You're not allowed to put yourself in harms way, ever, not even for me. (Thinking) specially for me.
Merlin: (bewildered at the sudden concern) Is that a rule?
Arthur: It is now. Do I make myself clear?
Merlin: (touched, he smiles) Yes, my lord. (Thinking) I would die for you a hundred times over.
Arthur: (Thinking, a wave of nostalgia invading him) "My lord"... how much I missed that. (says) Good. Now get some rest (starts leaving, but stops and turns) And Merlin.
Merlin: Yes?
Arthur: Thank you for saving my life. (Makes a small bow, smiles and leaves)
Merlin: ...
Merlin: Did he just bow to me?!! 😨
...
Some explanation: Arthur is now, not immune, but a little more resistant to some mind spells since his mind is from the future and has already passed for all those spells before. Merlin's magic is kind of weak, because the ritual Arthur did used the magic from the tree, therefore Merlin's magic to do the time travel thing, so lets say his magic is a little exhausted and needs recovering, but it just last a few days.
#merlin bbc#bbc merlin#merlin#merthur#merlin fanfic#merlin fic#merlin prompt#merthur fic#arthur and merlin#merlin and arthur#merthur prompt#Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU
259 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gojo x Reader Royalty AU | Part IV.
summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. after a long, stressful day, gojo somehow ends up at the door to your room at 12:04 am
a.n.: I'm not sure if anyone is still following this series, but if you are, enjoy part 4! I switched it up and made this chapter gojo's pov :) enjoy the slight angst + sweet fluff
tags: @lysaray @sad-darksoul
Gojo POV
12:04 am
I was exhausted.
Weary to my bones after all the meetings and speeches and royal bullshit I had to deal with as crown prince. I rubbed my temple as I strode towards my destination, not knowing what I was gonna do or say. I just knew that I needed to see her, even just for a second.
It bewildered me how I could live so many years of my life just fine before she came into my life, and now I suddenly can’t stand a week without her. She pops into my head when I’m supposed to be focusing - in the middle of an audience, during a meeting, while I’m working - then suddenly all I can think of is her smile.
I released a sigh of relief once I saw the light still on in her room. She was still awake, even if she should be asleep by now.
I shook my nerves off as I knocked on her door softly. The one line we’ve yet to cross is visiting each other’s bedrooms. She’s practically moved into my study, and I’ve grown so used to seeing her on my sofa immersed in her work or buried in a book that I struggle to focus when she’s not around. But coming to her bedroom is something I hadn’t dared until now.
“Yes?” she answered quietly. I’d give over my entire kingdom just to listen to her voice.
“It’s me,” I said, lingering by the front of her door.
“My prince? Come in,” she said, sounding alarmed. My sweet girl, always concerned about me. I didn’t know what it truly felt like to be taken care of until I met her. How happy it made me feel that she remembered my favorite desserts. How safe it made me feel when she never pushed me to share what I wasn’t comfortable with. How vulnerable and relieved it made me feel whenever she could see how I was feeling before I even know what I was feeling.
I carefully stepped inside, admiring how cozy she made the room feel. The fireplace lit up her space with a soft glow, and she had a book face-down on her comforter. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, but we weren’t there. Not yet.
The tension on my shoulders eased as the ache in my chest grew when I saw her. She sat on the edge of her bed wearing the crewneck I loaned her yesterday, with a pair of dangerously short sleep shorts.
For once, I felt a loss of words as I wondered how someone could be so adorable and so sexy at the same time. Thinking about her wrapped up in my crewneck did things to me that I wasn’t sure I should ever voice aloud.
“You okay?” she asked, concerned etched into her beautiful features as she walked over to me.
Lord, was she beautiful.
I’ve spent hours wondering how eyes could sparkle like hers. How her lips could look so soft and shiny. How someone could smell so sweet, like strawberries and jasmine and everything good in the world.
“Satoru?” she repeated, and I wondered how long I’d been staring. If I didn’t feel like shit, I’d be celebrating how good it felt for her to call me by my name.
“I just wanted to see you,” I admitted, watching as her eyes softened and she gave me a shy smile. I felt like the richest man in the world when she looked at me like that.
“Bad day?” she asked. I knew she would accept whatever answer I gave her. She was easy to talk to. She made me feel safe.
I decided to be brave, and let her in a bit.
“I saw Suguru today. For the first time since he abdicated,” I admitted. Her hand immediately joined mine, squeezing it gently in unspoken support. I couldn’t look at her as I continued.
“The things he said…I could barely recognize him. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but it's a lot,” I said, not feeling ashamed at how my voice cracked ever so slightly. I still struggled to articulate my feelings, but somehow she always understood exactly what I needed.
She rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand soothingly as we stood in silence.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, her warm voice washing over me as I felt my chest tighten again. I don’t know how she managed to make me feel good about unloading my problems onto her, but she did.
I nodded, squeezing her hand back. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the emotions I’d been forcing myself to keep in check throughout the day.
She looked at me as if she understood. And I was glad she did, because I didn’t have any more words in me.
She released my hand, taking a step back and opening her arms out widely.
“Would you like a hug?” she asked sweetly, and I did nothing to hide the shock on my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I hugged someone because I wanted to, let alone a time someone ever asked me if I wanted one.
I was scared. I imagined the weight of my problems and stress taking her down, driving her to madness. But she patiently held her arms out to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be in her embrace.
I nodded and stepped towards her, my heart feeling like it could explode out of my chest. She wrapped her arms around my middle, pulling me in close. I felt the warmth of her head press against my chest, and I felt like crying. I could die a happy man if I could have her this close to me at all times, if I could smell her strawberry-jasmine shampoo for the rest of my life.
I carefully wrapped my arms around her shoulders, afraid of hurting her. I felt rigid, fearing I sucked at hugging and was probably making her feel like she was hugging a statue.
She didn’t say anything, though. She just held me close, rubbing up and down my back with her palms wordlessly until she felt the tension in my shoulders dissipate.
I felt myself finally relax, and I leaned down to rest my chin atop her head. I dared to press a quick kiss to the top of her hair.
I didn’t know how long we stood there embracing, I just knew I could stay there forever.
“I should probably let you get to sleep,” I murmured into her ear, and I felt her shiver at the contact. I smiled to myself, fighting against thinking about all the things I wanted to do with her beyond hugging. I made no move to release her from my embrace, though.
She pulled away first, and as I watched the way the firelight illuminated her face, I felt like dropping to my knees to worship her.
“Or, you could stay tonight,” and I felt my heart stop, while other parts of my body suddenly seemed wide awake.
My eyes must have been widened to saucers, because she immediately blushed and shook her head.
“I’m not, I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, puffing her cheeks. Something she did when she felt shy, I noticed. And thought it was adorable.
“My bed is enormous. You could just sleep next to me,” she said, daring to peek up at me. I thought I was a flirt, but this girl could teach a class.
“And, you look like you could use the company. I could too, actually,” she said. I didn’t want to return to my cold, empty room to be left alone with my thoughts.
“Are you sure?” I asked. I know she offered, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. We’ve never spent the night together before.
“I’m sure,” she said, giving me one of her devastating, full smiles. I knew she was telling the truth.
“I have popcorn, and movies!” she added, and there was nothing more that I wanted in this world than to spend the night snuggled up next to this girl.
“And, I have mint water. I know you're a royal pain in the ass and can’t drink regular water,” she joked.
I laughed for the first time the entire week, and the sound of her matching laughter made it feel as though I had no problems in the world. I didn’t have the entire kingdom of my shoulders. I wasn’t the crown prince. I was just Satoru Gojo.
I slipped my hand into her fingers, lifting the back of her hand to my lips.
“Thank you. You always know how to make me feel better,” I said truthfully, trying not to think about how hard I was falling for this girl.
That beautiful blush dusted her cheeks once again, but she recovered quickly and tugged me by my hand towards her bed.
We settled under her comforter, and I was in heaven to be surrounded by the smell of her. She set the first movie to play, and when I extended my arm out to her, she gave me a brilliant smile before snuggling to my side.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so much peace.
~
Here is the link to the part before this!
#gojo fanfic#gojo fluff#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x reader#female reader#gojo x reader#jjk fanfic#gojo angst#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#jjk au#gojo au#gojo headcanons#gojo drabbles#jjk drabbles#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu satoru#jjk#jjk fluff#arranged marriage#soft gojo#jjk satoru#satorugojo#gojo
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
Two Worlds
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)
Trigger Warnings: Talk of murder, Talk of infant abandonment, Jake and Javy being idiots. Think that covers it.
Word Count: 3k
Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List
The camp was situated in the middle of the dense jungle, various large tents surrounding the edges of the clearing with a couple of makeshift huts standing on the far side. It wasn’t a grand research facility by any means, but you still found yourself excited as you climbed out of the jeep, Jake and Bob not far behind you.
“Ice and Mav are somewhere around here,” Bob muttered, rounding the back of the jeep to grab your luggage.
“Ice and Mav?” You asked him, taking one of your suitcases from him and setting it on the ground.
“Oh, yeah,” he smiled bashfully. “That’s what they go by. Some old college names, I guess. Dr. Kazansky goes by ‘Ice,’ and Dr. Mitchell prefers it if people call him ‘Mav’ or ‘Maverick.’”
“Noted,” you grinned. Bob handed off the last of the luggage to Jake, leading the two of you towards the camp. Each tent seemed to house different equipment, and you could see the various scientific instruments as you passed by.
“We like to keep the work separate from the play,” Bob explained as the equipment tents gave way to what looked like living quarters. One of the tent flaps pulled back, revealing a handsome man with dark skin and hair cropped short. His eyes lit up at the sight of your little group, and a smile tugged on his lips.
“Oh, I guess they just invited anybody to come and work here, huh?” He joked, stepping out and walking up to you. You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes playfully, quickly wrapping the man up in your arms.
“It’s good to see you too, Javy,” you laughed, pulling away so that he could wrap Jake in a matching hug.
“It’s good to see you, man. How long’s it been?” Jake asked, clasping him on the shoulder as the two broke apart.
“Been at least a year this August. Mike’s wedding, remember?”
“That’s right! Man, that bachelor party was-”
“If you two are finished,” you drawled, crossing your arms and giving them a pointed look. “I’d like to continue with the tour and find out which tent is mine.”
They both gave you sheepish looks before Bob gestured for you to follow. He led you to a smaller grouping of tents that surrounded a fire pit, various pots with pleasant aromas sitting atop the grill as they steamed and bubbled. You spotted two men sitting at one of the tables, and their heads perked up when they noticed you. One was all warmth, his dark hair cut short and blue eyes sparkling as he rose to greet you. The other was more stoic, his own eyes holding a sense of curiosity as they took your group in.
“We weren’t expecting you so soon,” the dark-haired man greeted, shaking your hand before moving to Jake. “Dinner isn’t quite ready.”
“No worries,” Jake shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Boots and I had a late lunch.”
“Boots?” The man questioned, turning a bemused smile towards you. You rolled your eyes and shot Jake a glare before giving him your name.
“I’m the primatologist,” you explained, earning a knowing nod from the man. “And are you Dr. Mitchell or Dr. Kazansky?”
“Well, I’m not technically a doctor,” the man laughed. “But I’m Pete Mitchell. You can just call me Mav or Maverick.”
“Not technically a doctor?” Jake asked, an eyebrow raised as he regarded Maverick.
“I think a lot of people just assume I’ve earned one since I follow Ice over here around everywhere,” Maverick smiled, nodding his head over at Dr. Kazansky. “But I never completed a doctorate or anything. That’s all him.”
“We keep him around to fix the generators and various other gadgets,” Dr. Kazansky chuckled, moving to stand. His grip was firm as he shook your hand, and you got the sense that he was the more reasonable and logical of the two. “We won’t keep you though. Bob, why don’t you show Boots here to her tent and Javy can help Jake get situated. You two must be tired after all that traveling.”
“That would be great, actually,” you smiled, already following after Bob towards the opposite side of the clearing. Another large tent stood a little ways away from everything, but not too far to where it would be a problem if anything were to happen, which you certainly hoped it wouldn’t.
“We figured you’d want some privacy,” Bob explained when you gave him a questioning look, drawing back one of the tent flaps to step inside. You followed suit, gazing around at the open space. A simple twin bed was pushed against the far wall, just sturdy enough to be considered permanent, or at least serve as a long-term accommodation. A desk was pushed on the opposite side of the tent, a simple shelf standing next to it, and you could see the wires running out of the tent to connect with the generator that sat closer towards the rest of the camp.
“I know it’s not much,” Bob said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked over at you, “but we tried to make it a little nicer for you.”
“It’s wonderful, Bob, really,” you smiled, moving further into the tent to put your luggage down. “It’s more than enough for me. I’m touched you all thought to go this far.”
“It was Ice’s idea, actually,” he admitted. You nodded, making a mental note to thank the older researcher.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bob hummed, giving you a small wave as he exited the tent, securing the flap open behind him. You made quick work of rolling up the blinds to the makeshift windows of your tent, allowing for the natural lighting to filter in through the mesh screens. You found several tubs for you to place your things in, quickly unpacking and placing them under your bed.
A strange feeling overcame you, like eyes on the back of your neck, and you looked around to see if one of the others had crept up behind you while you weren’t paying attention. You frowned when you saw no one, stepping closer towards the exit as you peered into the jungle. You didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there. You quickly pulled the flap shut. Whatever was out there would at least have to try and get at you now.
The sun had set, the fire casting a warm glow of orange around the camp as the generators powered the various lamps surrounding the outskirts of the camp. Maverick was dishing out what looked to be some kind of curry mixture onto different plates, handing you one as you joined everyone near the fire pit.
“It’s not much,” he started, “but I wouldn’t say I’m the worst cook.”
You took a tentative bite, an explosion of flavor bursting on your tongue as you chewed.
“This is really good, Mav!” You exclaimed, shoveling another spoonful into your mouth.
“And that’s the other reason we keep him around,” Ice joked from his spot at the table. You chuckled as Jake plopped down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his.
“How’s your tent?” He asked, a smirk on his face as he took a bite of his food, humming pleasantly at the taste.
“It’s fine,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the water Bob handed you before taking his own seat across the fire. “It’s cozy. What about yours?”
“I’m bunking with Javy and Bob,” he replied, casting you a sly grin. “But if you’re lookin’ for a roommate-”
“Absolutely not,” you snorted. Jake sighed, a look of fake hurt on his face as you rolled your eyes.
“You would really make all three of us sleep in the same tent while you get one all to yourself?” He asked you, mirth shining in his green eyes.
You tapped your chin, pretending to think about your answer.
“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, I would. Besides, you’d probably just stink up the place.”
Jake let out an indignant squawk as Bob and Javy laughed at him. Bob cast a look over at Mav who was placing the lid back on the pot.
“Are you going to leave any out for Bradley?”
“Who’s Bradley?” You asked, looking between the two men. Mav sat down across from Ice, letting out a sigh as he relaxed into the chair.
“Bradley,” Javy grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you, “is the wild man who lives in the jungle.”
“Be serious,” you scoffed, scowling at him.
“It’s true!” He exclaimed, looking at Bob for assistance. “He comes by the camp sometimes! Think I’ve seen him maybe five times since being here?”
“He’s around a lot more than you think,” Mav smirked, eyes cast towards the foliage of the jungle. “Those are just the times he’s let you see him.”
“Is he dangerous?” You asked, shifting a little closer towards Jake, but all the men shook their heads.
“Nah,” Javy sniffed. “He’s just a loner. Comes by when he wants food or needs stitched up.”
“Why doesn’t he just stay here?” Jake asked. Mav and Ice shared an uneasy look as a moment of silence passed over the camp.
“Because he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable around humans,” Ice offered, and you frowned.
“I don’t understand,” you said. “I thought he was a man?”
“He is,” Bob answered. “He just didn’t grow up around people.”
Maverick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About twenty-seven years ago, our friends Carole and Nick Bradshaw-”
“The famous primatologists?” You asked, your eyes lighting up in recognition at the names. The two had been trailblazers in the field, their focus being on gorilla social structures. Their deaths had hit the community hard, and their work had been largely abandoned until you picked up where they left off a couple of years ago. It was one of the reasons you had been invited to the camp.
“Yes,” Maverick nodded, giving you a sad smile. “This was their camp originally. They lived and worked here for years, studying the local troops of gorillas. But, as I’m sure you know, poachers came after one of the troops, and the two died in the struggle.”
You had heard about the tragic story of their passing, but the looks on Tom and Mav’s faces sent a pang of sympathy through you.
“What very few people knew, though,” Ice frowned, “was that they had a son. He was only a few months old when they died, and everyone thought that he had died with them.”
“That’s terrible,” you gasped, your hands covering your mouth in shock.
“It was,” Maverick nodded. “But, he didn’t die with his parents like everyone thought.”
“What do you mean?” Jake questioned. “How does a baby survive out here on its own?”
“It doesn’t without help,” Ice stated, waiting for the two of you to catch on.
“Bradley was taken in by the troop of gorillas,” Mav provided when the two of you cast confused looks at them. “They raised him as one of their own. We had no idea he was out here until we reopened the camp ten years ago. We caught him going through one of the tents one day.”
“How do you know that it’s him?” Jake asked. “How do you know it’s Bradley?”
“Because he’s the spitting image of his father,” Maverick answered, earning a hum from Ice.
“I don’t know,” he drawled, scratching his chin. “Carole’s in there too somewhere.”
“So why didn’t he stay?” You questioned. “Why doesn’t he stay with you?”
“He never seemed all that interested,” Mav shrugged. “He’s curious about us, yes, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave the troop behind. He comes and goes as he pleases, and we let him.”
“We teach him what we can, of course,” Ice offered. “He’s a fairly quick learner, and he seems eager to learn when he is here. He shouldn’t give you any problems if he shows up.”
You turned to Maverick. “You said that he’s around more often than we think?”
“I did,” he nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, because,” you hesitated, “I thought I felt someone or something watching me earlier. I didn’t see anything, but the feeling was still there.”
“It was probably him,” Mav nodded, giving you a gentle smile. “The two of you are new, and he’s just gotten used to Javy being around. It’s no wonder he might have been watching.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” you smiled.
“I’m sure he won’t take too long to make an appearance,” Mav continued. “I give it a week before he comes slinking out from behind one of those trees.”
A week had passed and still no sign of the wild man. All of you had developed a comfortable rhythm in the camp. Ice would disappear into one of the tents, Bob trailing after him as they started pouring over the notes on the group of baboons that took up residence nearby. Maverick would go around camp fiddling with the different gadgets sitting around camp. Javy would set off first thing in the morning towards the colony of termites deep within the jungle, and Jake would hike out with him, bringing back plant samples by around midday. You, on the other hand, were stuck at the camp.
“It’s probably best you don’t go out searching for the gorillas by yourself,” Maverick had said. “They’re a hard group to find, and Bradley is very protective of them. He probably wouldn’t let you anywhere near them right now.”
So you were stuck at the camp, trying to find odd chores and jobs to keep you occupied so you felt at least somewhat useful. You had started with trying to help Maverick with his tinkering, but that had quickly become a no as you had little to no understanding of mechanics. You weren’t much help to Ice and Bob, barely able to keep up with their conversations despite your extensive knowledge of primates. You despised the way the termites crawled all over you when Javy went out to observe them, and Jake…well, Jake was Jake.
So you busied yourself with cooking meals and doing laundry, slowly acclimating to the heat and humidity of the jungle. You quickly exchanged your pants and shirts for shorts and tank tops, the combination giving you a slight reprieve from the oppressive combination that kept you constantly covered in a layer of sweat.
The feeling of being watched came and went, slowly becoming a near constant as the days went on.
It was the second day that you realized some of your belongings had been moved. You had set your laundry on your bed, folded into neat piles as you stepped out to go and check on the food for dinner. When you came back, the clothes were scattered on your bed, thrown haphazardly across the sheets.
The seventh day, you walked in to find your shampoo opened, a small puddle of the floral smelling liquid on your desk. You had pursed your lips, but cleaned it up wordlessly, making sure to tuck it securely back under your bed. Your cheeks had warmed the next morning, despite the heat, when you found a bundle of flowers placed neatly outside your tent. You had smiled, gingerly picking up the flowers and carrying them towards the camp where the others were already gathered.
“What are these?” Jake asked, coming up to inspect the flowers. You tugged them back when he reached out to grab one, a scowl on your face as you swatted at him.
“Hands off,” you snapped, skirting around him and towards the table.
“Where’d you get them?” He asked unperturbed, plopping down next to you on the bench.
“They were outside my tent this morning,” you replied, barely catching the look Ice and Mav gave one another. “Aren’t they pretty?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “They’re fire lilies.”
“You just found them outside your tent?” Maverick asked, eyeing the flowers in your hand.
“Uh huh,” you chirped. “I think I’m going to keep them on my desk.”
“Bradley seems to have taken a liking to you,” Ice said carefully. “He brought Javy a rhinoceros beetle when he first got here.”
“I didn’t know it was there until I crawled into bed and it bit me,” Javy frowned, shaking his head at the memory. You bit back a laugh, hiding your face in the palm of your hand.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the flowers?” Jake asked with a frown. “I mean, I’m the one here who’s studying plants.”
“Are you jealous?” You teased, earning a scowl from the blond. “He probably brought them for me because of my shampoo.”
“What do you mean?” Bob asked.
“I came back to my tent yesterday to find my shampoo sitting on my desk. It looked like someone had squeezed some of it out,” you explained with a shrug. “It smells like flowers, so maybe he thought I would like the flowers.”
“Interesting,” Maverick hummed, studying you. You shifted under his gaze, deciding to busy yourself with fixing a plate of food. Once you had settled back onto the bench, Jake turned to you.
“Do you wanna come with me to the waterfall tomorrow? I was going to go collect some samples of the algae growing there.”
You thought over his proposal. On one hand, you were bored to tears just sitting around the camp, waiting for any chance you could get to go try and catch a glimpse of the gorilla troop. On the other hand, you’d be stuck with Jake, and the man could be a tad controlling when in his element.
“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, deciding that dealing with a hyper-focused Jake was better than nothing. He grinned, tossing a piece of banana into his mouth.
“Great! We’ll leave bright and early!”
Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @seresinsbrat @hopip99 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @kmc1989 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @nouis-bum @topherwrites @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @princessofglitterland @agentorange9595 @pittbull-enthusiast @krispybearbouquet @els-marvelvsp @jupitercomet @maximus890 @eloquentdreamer @seresinslady @piceous21 @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @jessicab1991 @princess76179 @itisdesiree86
#stranger like me#slm#tarzan!bradley#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster fanfiction#top gun rooster#rooster top gun#rooster bradshaw
348 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, discord friend! this is one of the silly ideas I had 😌 Asterion is having a very bad luck day. He keeps dropping things, setting off traps, breaking lockpicks, he ripped his shirt, and now his seduction skills are lacking hard. How would he navigate it?
As someone who is very clumsy and tends to panic a lot (triggered even by something unimportant), I can totally relate to Astarion is this prompt.
Thanks @brabblesblog for beta reading!
Tainted
Synopsis: Astarion believes he's been healed - but yet another unpleasant interaction and the darkness is back.
Tags: post-game, established relationship, mentions of past trauma.
TW: Conversation about triggers.
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion looks around the street. The town of Daggerfold, barely home to more than a thousand people, is dark and peaceful. Just a stopover for travelers, but once a part of a long-gone kingdom of the past.
He carefully navigates to a tavern where he stays with you. He was hesitant about renting a room first.
"They will notice I am a vampire, darling, and I am afraid. People in those cities tend to hate vampire lovers more than the Undead themselves."
But you looked at him with those puppy eyes (learned from a professional), and he agreed. Besides, not being constricted to the tent for the whole day feels nice.
Astarion can walk around the room and the tavern, read, and talk to the people if he wants (he usually doesn't) and you can sleep in a comfortable bed.
Besides, you both have had a bath for the first time in weeks today.
Astarion notices the signs of the pre-dawn on the east. The innate fear grasps his mind.
Run. Run. Run.
Hide. Or die. Elves call it mor. The ultimate death, without resurrection to come.
Astarion forces himself to calm down. It's still too early and the Inn is already visible in the distance. He doesn't even have to rush.
A hand grabs his wrist and he flinches, disturbed by the unwelcome touch.
The young man, probably a half-elf, tries to pull him closer, seductively licking his lips, a gesture too familiar for Astarion not to notice.
"Looking for company, handsome?" His words are sweet and full of lust. "I can offer you a time of pleasure."
Astarion wants to set himself free, just to go away. It's not supposed to be difficult. It's not like the young man's grip is tight. A simple "no" is enough, people in this profession don’t tend to insist.
The vampire knows it from personal experience.
"Your skin is so pale, almost like marble. And hands... so cold. Come on, I will warm you"
Astarion is paralyzed. As if he is ordered not to move. Like he often used to be.
When he was on the other side of this conversation. When he was the man who needed to get a client as soon as he could.
Seeing no resistance, the prostitute reaches out for his cheek.
His touch is acid-burning.
"GO AWAY!" Astarion yells, almost betraying his fangs. "Leave me alone!"
The man is taken aback and immediately pulls away. Astarion curses and mutters through his teeth all the slurs he remembers.
Every word he ever heard from passers-by.
Whore. Slut.
Filliken.
There is a disgusted and evil smile on the man's face. "You were like me, am I right? All of you… former colleagues, are like that."
Astarion steps back. A dark wave of terror drags him to the abyss. The sun is almost up.
He makes himself move towards the Inn.
"But you can't escape your past! You hear me? It will always be with you, no matter how hard you try to wash it all away!"
Astarion runs. The moment the first ray pierces the air, he is already in the safe shadow of a sleepy inn.
It's almost empty. Only a few drunkards sleep peacefully on the floor. Astarion goes upstairs, praying you aren't back yet.
Because he doesn't want to look at you right now.
His hands tremble and dark thoughts plague his mind like a swarm of flies.
The room is empty and your walking boots are missing. He sighs in relief.
That's the problem with you. You know when something is wrong. Even if you understand he doesn't want to discuss it, you still acknowledge it.
Besides, if you were in the room, you would hear the screams.
Astarion falls on the bed, not bothering to undress himself, and closes his eyes.
He needs to meditate. He needs to wander away. When he wakes up, it will be better.
But Astarion should know better; it never works like that.
Again and again, he sees the same things. Hands of strangers, touching him without his consent. His cheeks, his chest, his back. His private parts. Grabbing and groping him. Laughing and smiling. Future victims. Useful people he needed to extract information from. Others whom he just needs to please.
Sweat that feels like acid. Touches that hurt like red-hot tongs. Intimacy is worse than torture.
Astarion tries to force his mind to remember something else. You, he needs to remember you. Your touches, your voice, your blood. He attempts to visualize you but instead, it's a look-alike stranger, a fake voice with hurtful words.
He sits up, pressing his hands to the chest. His body feels rested but his mind is exhausted. Astarion hears voices from downstairs - busy afternoon in the tavern.
…You sleep beside him pressing your face into the pillow. Astarion notices that his boots are taken off and his body is covered with a blanket. It seems like when you came back, you put the shoes off him and tucked him in the blanket.
Astarion carefully gets out of bed. He still has a few hours before you wake up and he needs to occupy his mind with something.
It seems like the trance has made things worse.
Astarion, moron, you taint Tav. A voice within his undead heart whispers. Your past will never go away. Your skin is dirty. People will always know who you are. Tav pities you but even heroes are tired of being saviors.
This will never be over. Whatever he does. Wherever he goes, his past will follow him like the smell of death. He ruins you. He destroys you.
Astarion takes a book out of the bag and opens it randomly. A trembling hand tries to turn the page.
And tears it.
Fuck.
The books fall to the floor with a loud thump.
You move in your sleep but don't wake up. Astarion, cursing himself for being so clumsy, picks it up and immediately bumps his head on the wooden table.
Tainted. Tainted, the voices keep whispering, completely taking away all the control. His body doesn't belong to him. All the movements are off.
"Astarion, are you all right?" you mumble in the pillow.
"Yes... my... I am ... " The ability to talk properly leaves him as well.
He needs to go out. At least, he can sit in a tavern and look for potential contracts.
In a tavern similar to his hunting spots. And where yet another person might try to get him to bed.
He pulls out the door, but it is locked. He looks around and sees the key on the table. Tries to take it but it slips away through his fingers.
"Is anything wrong?" you yawn, sitting up. Your face is sleepy and the hair is messy.
"No... I am..."
You stand up and while still half-asleep pick up the key and open the door. Astarion stays at the threshold, fearing to fall down the stairs the moment he leaves the room.
"Astarion, the more I live with you, the more you resemble a cat to me! Do you want to stay inside or go out?"
"I ... "
His hands are still trembling. You look at them, noticing the tremor.
And close the door.
"I take my words back about you being a cat. You are more like a hobgoblin now."
"Careful, darling, I can get offended"
"So, you can speak now. What's wrong? You don’t look drunk to me, so?"
"Nothing important. Please, go to sleep."
"Did someone hurt you?"
"No, nothing"
"Liar."
Before he manages to object, you make him return to bed. As he sits down, you help him to undress. The light armor he forgot to put off, the shirt, and the trousers are carefully placed on the chair. He stays only in his underwear.
His hands are still shaking.
“I would gladly offer you my blood, but I am afraid you will pierce my carotid artery in your current state.”
Astarion nods. You lie on the bed and pull him to you. He places his head on your chest. You wrap your hands around him as if protecting him from the outside world and his own mind.
You are warm like sunlight.
You lie silently under the blanket in the dark room. You got the cheapest room in the Inn – the one without windows and the Innkeeper couldn’t understand why you two were so content about it.
“Can I touch your back?” you ask.
"What? Of course... Of course, you can. Why do you even ask?"
"Because I care about you", a gentle caress brushes over his scars. “Because I want you to feel safe.”
And he gives up. He tells you everything. About the man on the streets. The words and curses Astarion addressed mostly to himself.
"I feel tainted," he admits. “I feel that I ruined you. I can't undo my past. It follows me like a shadow. And I bring this shadow to our bed!
A soft kiss. Then, another. Fingers draw invisible pictures on his skin. Tears prickle his eyes.
Why is he so weak? Why is he so pathetic?
Noticing his tension, you tug him closer.
"I am sorry", he mutters. "I thought I had already recovered. That the things have already gotten better."
"They have. And you can't make progress without taking any steps back. It's a part of growth."
He chuckles but still feels miserable. He doesn't know what makes him feel worse. The thoughts in his head or the understanding that he has been lying to himself.
Astarion believed he was healed. It was a lie.
"You don't taint me, Astarion. You don't ruin me. I don't care how many people touched you. I care only about what you are and what you want to be."
He finally finds the strength to pull you closer to himself. "I want it to be over. I want to move forward. But I just can't. It seems like… he truly broke me. There is nothing to repair.”
“A broken man wouldn’t desire revenge the very moment he acquired freedom. Broken people beg to be returned to their masters. A broken man wouldn’t fight back. You aren’t broken and you are healing. And I love you. Never doubt it.”
You lie together in silence. Astarion notices his hands don’t tremble anymore and he relaxes a bit. He is safe.
But is he happy?
He concentrates on his feelings. He is in the dark room protected from the sun. On the soft and comfy bed. His hands are wrapped around you, the first and only person he cares about and loves. And who gives him everything he thought he wasn’t worthy of? A heavy thick blanket covers you both. The touches on his bare skin are so gentle he is about to cry. The soothing heartbeat sounds like a lullaby.
Yes, he is happy. Even if his mind tries to tell him otherwise.
You fall asleep again, and Astarion stays motionless not wanting to wake you up yet again.
When he finally notices your movements, indication that you are ready to wake up. He frees himself from your grip and presses his lips against yours. He kisses you softly, slowly, tasting you.
Thanking you.
“Feeling better?” you ask once your eyes open.
"Hello, darling", he smiles. “Yes, I am.”
Mor - ultimate death.
Filliken - “open skirt”, a prostitute (a slur).
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#bg3#astarion romance#baldurs gate astarion#astarion fics#astarion fanfiction#astarion x f!tav#astarion x female tav#baldur's gate tav#astarion angst#astarion fic#astarion ancunin#astarion fanfic#tav x astarion#astarion x tav#baldurs gate 3#spacebarbarian fics
187 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
world-sightseer-artist
world-sightseer-artist
3-rue-monplaisir
3, rue Monplaisir
hernuttriumph-blog1
Hernuttriumph
bigstudguy
What Makes Me Hard
ayellowcrayon-blog
doo daa