#all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
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Winter's King 12
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: have a good weekend.
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 stand, still uncertain. You look at the king as he tilts his face up to the moonlight. The silver sheen washes over him with an unearthly glow. He looks lupine, much like your dream.
“Your highness?” You echo again, hands curling around the sides of your skirt.
“Will you continue to disregard my order?” He challenges as his gold eyes meet yours. You wince at the way they shine.
“No, your highness, I am only...” you hush yourself and clamp your lips tight. You turn and search around, numbly walking along the curve of the pond.
He growls as you reach the line of hedges into the next walkway.
“You will want to go much faster than that,” he warns as you hear him stand. “I will allow you some advance...” He exhales as you glance back at him, “ten...” he stares at you, his figure shrouded in shadow from far away, “nine...”
You blanch and tumble backward through the gap. You spin and stagger on your soles, throwing your arms out as your heart pulses madly. Something about his timbre, about his words, has you alight. There is something amiss about him.
You push your legs against your skirts and hurry blindly into the nocturnal void. The moonlight seeps in around the silhouette of leaves as you keep your hands ahead of you to prevent a collision. You try to see through the dark, like silk across your eyes, making out little more than hazy orbs.
You crash into a thicket of thorns and pull away from the rosy bunch. Their scent clings onto you as you turn to the left and dive down the next path. You don’t know these gardens, not like Debray. For all you know, you’re going even deeper.
You hear a step behind you and swirl to face it. You squint, trying to see who is there. Is it the king? Do you want it to be? What does he mean to do when he catches you? What is the meaning of this game?
You plunge back into a sprint, puffing as you pump your arms. You whimper and whine as you slow, legs heavy and feet dull. Where are you going? You don’t like this. You remember a night like this before, how the cold dew of the forest crept up your legs, feet hitting the earth in quick succession, the holler of men and snort of horses behind you.
You stagger and spin back. No, you can’t run anymore. You don’t like this. You don’t like those thoughts. That last night before you were taken to Debray, before you dawned the cap of your bearing. That orphan girl running from servitude.
You walk forward, shaking as you peer back and forth. You wade through the thick grey air. You hear a twig snap and a bush rustle, each noise from a different direction. Perhaps it is a rabbit or a chipmunk. You sniffle and wring your hands.
You must find the king. You will surrender this game and ask that he takes you back to the castle. You trudge over the beaten path and hear the soft trickle ahead. It must be the pond. The silver light blooms brighter as you come upon a space in the hedges.
Suddenly, there is only air beneath your feet. You kick out as something rigid wraps around your waist and lifts you. You wriggle desperately and cry out, your eyes tinging but not overflowing. Your fear has you clawing at the hold around your middle.
“Please, please, don’t hurt me!” You plead as you flail, “please, sir, I’ll go back to the castle--” you choke as the grasp on you slackens but your feet still do not meet the ground. You quiet as you recall your present, that you are not in that forest, that you are far from Debray.
You are sat upon the bench, the silver moon gleaming down on you as it outlines the broad shadow before you. King Geralt faces you, kneeling as you tremble and hug yourself. You put your head down in shame.
“Apologies, your highness, I was lost,” you reach to rub your cheek, flicking back your tears with your lashes, “I got confused.”
“No, it is I who should apologise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he takes your hand between his big ones, “I only meant to make some fun.” He brushes his touch up your arms and squeezes as you drop your hand to your lap, “little maid, did I hurt you?”
You shake your head, “I was only... delirious. It is too dark out here. I cannot see,” you bite down and look away, “apologies, I did act out.”
“Little maid,” he tickles along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, “I would not let you get lost or hurt.” He tilts his hand to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “what was it you were running from in your head? Who?”
“No one,” you lie. “Just a memory.”
“Memories are not just that,” he insists, “but I understand how they can hurt. Forgive me, treasure, I wasn’t--”
“Your highness,” the sullen voice has the king recoiling. He quickly plants his foot and stands. You rise as well, toying with that word he called you. Treasure. “The queen sends for you.”
Bryce steps out into the moonlight. You look at him then the ground. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?
“The queen,” King Geralt grumbles, “what is it she wants? It is late--”
“She would not say and I would not guess,” Bryce says, “but she screams for it. Like a yowling cat.”
The king sighs and lowers his head. He squares his shoulders and resets his posture. He steps away from you and gestures to his soldier. The king twists around and marches away. Bryce falls into pace with you as you follow. He is silent, you all are.
You approach the castle, guards lurking in the shadows, and are let past the front doors by a sombre pair. Inside, you follow the king through the great hall and up the stairs. You peek over at Bryce as you proceed down the corridor. He gently squeezes your wrist, just briefly, and carries on.
“Your highness,” Bryce speaks as you hear a racket ahead of you; screeching and crashing. “Should I escort the maid back to her chambers?”
“Cursed woman,” King Geralt mutters as he slows, Queen Jazlene’s door just ahead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, “the cost of a kingdom...”
“Your highness?” Bryce prompts once again.
You echo him and step forward, “I could calm her. Bring some wine--”
“No, she will have no more of that,” the king declares sharply. “I wed her, I put my name next to hers, so it is I shall attend to her. Sir,” he looks at Bryce, “do as you suggest, put the maid in her chambers and I will put the queen in her place.”
“Aye, your highness,” Bryce bows his head and points you back, “come, maid, the night wears on.”
You glance up at the king. His golden eyes are wrought as his gaze holds yours for only an instant. You see the hesitation bob in his throat before he turns away. You mirror him and follow Bryce back along the corridor.
As you climb to the next floor and continue down another corridor, Bryce slows. He stops as he gets to the door and faces you. He takes a breath as he looks you up and down.
“It’s treacherous here in the summer kingdom,” he says, “but that will not change on the road. Mouse, you keep yourself well.”
“Thank you, sir, I am fine.”
“Aye, you do not take my meaning but you do not take the king’s either,” he puts his hand on his belt, “his favour might do you fine in this moment, but it is dangerous. Let not others notice so they may not envy it.”
You grimace and shake your head, “what do you mean?”
“Your little games do not need an audience. It is no tournament.”
Your chest sinks and your skin speckles. Is he accusing you of something?
“I... I haven’t done anything untoward. I would not, sir--”
“You may not,” he intones, “but we are all ruled by the will of the king.”
“Sir, the king is married to Lady Jazlene--”
“And we both see how they fare,” he states bluntly. “Carry my words with you, do with them as you may, but I could not leave them unsaid.”
Your eyes gloss and your nose tingles once more. He’s mad. Truly, he can’t think you and King Geralt. A maid and her master.
“I would not,” you repeat.
He huffs and nods curtly. He turns to the door and unlatches it, “go, rest your head while you can.”
“Sir Bryce--”
“I am bid protect you by the king,” he pushes the door inward and rests his hand on the frame, “not from him.” He looks past you, as if through, “little mouse, I do hope I am wrong as well but I know better than to depend on that.”
You shudder and tug at the end of your sleeve. You slump and drag your feet through the doorway. You stop, just inside, “good night, sir.”
He grunts and pulls the door shut. Your lip trembles as your heart races, just as it did in the garden. He is wrong. He must be. You saw yourself how the king is trying, he even said it was the queen he meant to game with earlier. It was only that she was too unwell. He said it!
And he goes to the queen’s chamber that night. He is not there. He has not been disloyal. The matter is not your concern. You serve wine, you lace gowns, you braid hair. You are only the maid.
⚔️
You return to the queen’s service the next morning. The world is a bit more familiar as you help her into her gown and twine her hair into an elaborate coif. Servants pass in and out of her chambers as they prepare for the royal party’s imminent departure.
“Why can we not keep this capital?” Queen Jazlene whines, “but my husband does insist on return to his frigid homelands.”
You say nothing as you sift through the old monarch’s jewelry chest. You present to her successor each gem, brooch, and chain. She has yet to turn any away though you wonder if there would be room in her already bustling luggage. Perhaps the cart will be a touch more crowded on your ride north.
“And yet my husband did come to me,” she boasts, “I think... hmm, well, perhaps this marriage won’t be so turbulent.”
You show her a cuff and she snatches it. She puts it on her wrist, turning her arm this way and that, as she oohs and aahs. She wiggles excitedly.
“I recall this piece. One year, when I came with father to court, the queen wore this cuff. You see the emeralds. I remember she was so proud of it even though all the court knew it was only gifted to her by her husband to distract from his mistress,” she trills, “oh, how foolish. But the old queen was so boring. It is a wonder the king didn’t dispose of her, who can blame him for taking an amour?”
She sighs and looks at the mirror, “and she wasn’t half so pretty as me.”
You remain silent, continuing to sort with her endless approval. You don’t think there is a single trinket she could ever turn away. You don’t see the need for so many of the same thing. Some stones are brighter than others but why not keep the brightest and do away with the rest.
“As I was saying,” she goes on, “last night when the king came to me, he was... almost meek. That man. Can you imagine? I admit I was distraught after the day I suffered but he listened and we spoke.” She strokes her fingers as she admires her oval nails. “There are some southern lords who will come north as well, some northern to stay behind. He says it will help us acquaint the two kingdoms into one.”
She drops her hands and pushes her shoulders straight, “he is wise. I suppose I should heed him if I am to be a good queen.”
You are want to agree but to do so aloud may be taken as insult. She might have done it sooner and saved herself some trouble. Yet it isn’t your place and you haven’t the wisdom of a queen. You’re merely a servant.
“Once I give him an heir, he will have to listen to me too. Yes, I will do what mother could never. Give my husband a son,” she drags her hand to her midsection, “I think last night...” she flutters her lashes dreamily. Her suggestion makes you squirm. Her and the king’s relations are hardly your concern. “It was better,” her voice is brittle, “even if...” she peers around and clamps her lips. She narrows her dark eyes, “close the door.”
You obey. You come back to her and return to your previous task. She reaches in to pluck out a string of pearls.
“He puts me on my stomach,” she whispers, almost as if she thinks you won’t hear, but she is speaking to you. There is no one else in the room. Perhaps she is only embarrassed that she has only to the courage to tell a maid. “And he behind me so I can’t see him and... he can’t see me but... but if he could...” she toys with the pearls, “if he’d just look at me, he might like it better.”
You lift a pair of medallions earrings and she ignores them. She tosses the pearls back in the chest and stands. You back away.
“He won’t let me touch him otherwise,” she mulls as she paces. “But he is warming. It is early, isn’t it? And compared to the first night... I don’t know. It will get better. It must.”
She quiets and stands by the window. Her anxiety is palpable. It’s uncharacteristic. You’ve never seen her uncertain of anything yet you can understand it. She is soon to set off to a new life and to brave a long road. When she reaches her destination, she will be a true queen. When you get there, you’ll still be a maid.
“I’ll go to him tonight,” she says and raises her head, “yes, yes, I will go to him and try again.” She spins and smirks at her grand idea, “maid, I must find something to wear for him. Well, nothing very much,” she remarks coyly, “but I will need a robe. Yes, I saw a satin one in the queen’s closet.” She swallows and stands as straight as she can, “my closet.”
You diligently cross the chamber and search the wardrobe. You find a white satin robe stitched with gold and silver. You turn to show the queen. She giggles and claps her hands.
“Wine,” she says, “I must find some courage too.”
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#the witcher#series#au#medieval au#winter's king
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Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc ‘racing’ during FP2 at the 2023 Las Vegas Grand Prix.
📸: redbullracing
#charles leclerc#max verstappen#lestappen#fp2#rb admin loves them#*#my edit#las vegas gp 2023#all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you#cinematic
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I can't believe Taylor Swift wrote "Long Live" explicitly about the Ghost crew
#star wars rebels#Swr#LONG LIVE ALL THE MOUNTAINS WE MOVED *GESTURES WILDLY AT KANAN AND EZRA OPENING THE LOTHAL JEDI TEMPLE*#HOW THE KINGDOM LIGHTS SHINED JUST FOR ME AND YOU ->ZEB LEADING THEM THROUGH THE STAR CLUSTER TO LIRA SAN#I'm having a category 5 'this is why I need to learn how to edit stuff' moment#Taylor swift
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made the mistake of making a playlist for the uss enterprise crew , , , made the mistake of adding long live by taylor swift to the playlist , , , do i cry? i cry. i cry so much
#caroline talks#i think a lot about the possibility of the enterprise crew breaking off and going their separate eways#i think a lot about jim smiling down at a photo of himself with his crew#i think a lot about how they all still stay in touch i think a lot about that#i had the time of my life with you and long live the walls we crashed through how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you and etc#bro when i was a kid i'd listen to that song and quietly fantasize joining my favorite groups of fictional characters#thinking that i was having the time of my life fighting dragons with them#something mildly comforting and also mildly lonely about realizing that ten years later you are still the same kid#wishing that they could join these groups
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ok but this animatic is gonna be so good if i actually make it
#my post#now i just have to. draw it.#but like!! it goes through all 3 episodes right. it starts w ranboo opening his eyes and waking up in the cabin#he goes through the cooking show and when the audio distorts on the word ‘decimal’ the slime turns red!#then all the sneeg stuff and at ‘condemn him to the infirmary’ rnab walks through the door and gets snatched by rats! then its the key room#from ep 2. gets through thst quick and its the surgery room! when audio distorts on ‘trouble’ the slime turns red AGAIN! and then the#‘scattering sparks of thought energy’ bit is the 3rd room w all the people! ‘here in my kingdom-cower and pray’ is sneeg being mind wiped.#the crazy bit is when we go through all the other rooms and the ending of it is hitw. then rnab going through puzzlers office. the ‘sososo’#is rnab seeing the cameras and walking off set! ‘spiralling down thy majesty’ is when hes staring at the showfall logo! then hes following#hutchs instructions and then he finds charlie and drags him along on ‘i was just a boy you see’#and on ‘i plead of you have sympathy for me’ theyre running and ranboo hits the button on ‘me’. he turns and the camera spins with him. and#he gets kidnapped again. ‘see how the serfs work the ground’ is hutch. ‘see how they’ has the lights slowly coming up#‘see’ shows a few… employees? then ‘how’ is a bit more and ‘they’ a spotlight shines on rnab all crucified yknow. and ‘see how the brain#plays around’ is mr squiggles! ‘and you fall inside a hole you didnt see’ both. then the die/live vote pops up. it goes back and forth until#‘someone help me’ on ranboo struggling against the restraints. ‘understand’ on the red lights of the mask. ‘whats going on’ on the symbol on#the back. ‘inside my mind’ is the vote struggling around the 50/50 mark. ‘doctor i cant tell if im not me’ is a wider shot of ran and then#the box snaps shut and the screen fades to black.#but! but then! on ‘when it grows bright’ the same animation from the beginnibg plays!#ranboo wakes up in the cabin and looks around!#:) ‘when it grows bright the particles start to marvel having made it through the night#never they ponder whether electric calming if you look at it right’#yeah. abywahs i like this animatic so far
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#reputation stadium tour#taylor swift#folklore long pond studio sessions#the 1989 world tour#another night of watching reputation stadium tour and crying#HOW THE KINGDOM LIGHTS SHINED JUST FOR ME AND YOU#i'm begging god please i need all the eras tour footage 😭😭#*nr
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"Please stop asking how I got in here," the white haired kid said, annoyance laced in his voice, "All I want to know is if any of you can do detective work in the supernatural world!"
Constantine just barely opened his mouth before the kid turned on him, "Not you! You have terrible reviews!"
Bruce tensed as Lazarus green eyes locked on him, "How about you? You're the worlds greatest detective, right? I know you probably won't take gold as payment since Bruce Wayne is your sugar daddy, but I can offer up information on the Infinite Realms instead!"
Batman, calm and collected even as Green Arrow and Flash snickered from across the room, "Infinite Realms?"
Phantom grinned, "Is that an agreement? Cause Prince Psaro could really use your help. He has so many questions, and the answers may save his life. You want to save the life of a teenage boy surrounded by demons and monsters, don't you?"
Bruce stared at the teen, not looking away even with Constantine motioning not to agree, Bruce nodded.
And in a moment, they were gone. They reappeared in a grand hall with a ruby eyed teenager looking impossibly small from his place on the massive throne. Silver hair shined oddly in the light of the purples flames that danced in the sconces, making the boy seem more ethereal.
"Hey Psaro!" The white haired kid from before greeted, "I brought you a detective like you asked. Don't forget you have to teach me magic now!" The first teen vanished without a trace leaving Batman and what he now recognized as an angsty goth alone together.
As it turns out Psaro had many questions and offered to pay him a generous amount in gold each day.
Some of his questions include:
What kingdom was my human mother a princess of?
Why can't I remember key information from my childhood, such as my brothers very existence?
I was framed for the murder of all of the "Chosen Heros" loved ones. How do I prove im innocent before he comes to take off my head?
Why do Rose's tears shatter?
Is there a way to stop his younger brother from destroying the world without caging him or killing him?
Ect.
Bruce has his work cut out for him, but between the mysterious white haired kid popping in now and then to give him cryptic conversations, the team on litteral monsters he was given to defend himself with, and his access to royal libraries and vaults this might not be so bad
#dpxdc#prompts#fanfiction prompts#bruce spends a lot of time with psaro before he learns that his mom is dead and his dad is essentially a supervillian dictator who disowned#him#new son#danny fenton#danny phantom#danny is in danger of adoption too and is a little unhinged since his own loved ones died and he became a wanderer#the jl back home are like: o-o hes gonna adopt that boy isnt he?#dragon quest#dragon quest monsters#dqm3#dqm3 spoilers#psaro#psaro the manslayer#psaro is not prepared to be daded#batman#bruce wayne#solo#dragon quest iv#dragon quest 4#kinda#im new to dq have mercy#solo (the hero) is not okay#no one in this is okay#so much potential for angst
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history in the making // rex lapis (zhongli)
from aree: inspired by the latest collab genshin has with the Sanxingdui Museum (and the trailer for said event). (Slightly SAGAU just bcoz but can be read as a normal Reverse Isekai AU)
You're a security guard for the museum and you're out on your regular patrol for the night. All is quiet save for the tapping of your shoes on the marble floors and the jingle of keys hanging from your belt.
When you round the corner, you flinch. There's a man standing there, barefooted, just staring at the museum displays with curiosity. You accidentaly shine your light on him, unconsciously trying to get a better look at him and he turns to you.
Something about him was definitely off. He was wearing some kind of hooded robe. And... gloves? What else could they be? They reached from his shoulders to the very tips of his fingers, making his arms look brown like the very earth. Whatever gloves those were, they ran with veins of gold, making him glow under the museum darkness. But above all else, the most damning piece of evidence that he wasn't from around here were his golden eyes that almost seemed to glow brighter than the gold of his arms.
He definitely did not look like he belonged here, and yet, he looked like he was right at home in this very museum - if you said he was as ancient as the very displays, it felt like you'd be correct.
"You're not supposed to be around here right now." You say dumbly. What else were you supposed to say anyway? You're a security guard in a museum, your sole job was to kick people out past visiting hours.
His mouth ticks up at the corners, like you just said something funny. You would be offended at the thought of not being taken seriously while on the job, if you didn't think he suddenly looked more... human. The deadpan stare he had on earlier made him look too statuesque, too detached from everything.
"Then what say you would be the most apt time to pay a visit?" His voice is deep and melodious, almost intimidating if not for the playful lilt to his tone.
"Uh, 8:30 AM to 6 PM?" You rub the back of your neck, directing the flashlight to the museum entrance. The doors were firmly closed and locked. You can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye. "How did you even get in here...?"
He seems to think about your words, closing his eyes in thought. Without the glow of his eyes, you notice even the tips of his hair are golden. Maybe some kind of cosplayer? But by the looks of it, he seemed to move around too comfortable in his attire for it not to be every day wear. And his eyes didn't look like contact lenses. Finally, he opened his eyes, a mischievous glint to them.
"If I were to say I have arrived here through a dream, would you believe me?" His mouth forms a small smile and you blink at him.
"Guess you don't plan on telling me the truth," You sigh. "Fine then."
You tentatively touch the two-way radio on your belt. Should you call this in? Some guy in cosplay just found his way in and has no plans on telling you how he got here. You think you should tell someone. But...
"You are from here, correct?" He asks and you turn to him immediately. He really has a way of getting people's attention, especially with his voice. You nod at him. "Then might I ask you to tell me of what these statues mean?"
Huh. Now that you thought about it, he was looking at the displays when you first saw him, too. Maybe he'll cooperate easily with you if you tell him a couple of things about the museum. You should really tell someone, but at the same time-
You feel like the moment you tell someone else, he'd disappear from your view. You must be going mad.
"Follow me, then." You're no tour guide, but you do know of the things they speak of. So you repeat what you hear during the day.
You tell the golden-eyed man about the remains of the ancient Shu Kingdom four thousand years ago. You tell him of 50,000 artifacts unearthed in the ruins. He asks questions about the Bronze Age, of their masks and artworks, and you answer best you can while reading the displays.
Finally, you reach a corner where the fire exit is. He stops beside you.
"Sorry about this. But not gonna lie, I've let you stay long enough," you sigh.
He shakes his head and smiles softly. "You have done more than enough. I thank you for letting me see your world."
Your world? Odd choice of words. But if he really wasn't from here, then you guess in a sense this is a bit of your world.
"Just go past these doors and they'll lead you straight out the building. Do I need to escort you out?" He shakes his head and you open the door for him.
He passes through, but stops just before passing you. "May we meet again, Overseer."
"That's not really my name. Also I hope you wouldn't come back like this." You tell him your name, but he merely whispers it and smiles. "Oh, right, I forgot to ask yours."
He opens his mouth before closing it and shaking his head. "I fear that if I tell you my name, we will never see each other again. As such, I promise to tell you the next time we meet."
This guy gets weirder by the minute, but atleast your meeting was ending. "Just make sure to come back during visiting hours, alright? I don't wanna lose my job."
You close the door behind him, but just as you do, smoke and golden light slips past the cracks of the door. With a yelp, you throw the door open, expecting a fire, but there's nothing.
No robed man, no fire. Just the remains of a mist.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe you were dreaming.
You think it's a dream. Not until by the next night, you find the same man. Same golden eyes, in armor of brown and gold.
He looks to you and offers another smile.
And he tells you his name.
✨ Masterlist ✨
Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.
#this is just Five Nights with Zhongli lmaooo#genshin impact zhongli#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact reader insert#genshin impact zhongli x reader#zhongli x reader#rex lapis x reader#genshin impact sagau#sagau x reader#sagau zhongli#sagau rex lapis
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hi jade, sending a request for prince steve if ur box is open rn, my apologies if not! i was wondering if we could get something about maybe the night before the wedding where they decide to make some private promises to each other that the whole kingdom won't be privy too? just some sweetness in general from those two would be nice. thx!! love u and ur writing and happy new years!
prince!steve soulmate au —you and steve have a last minute panic the night before your wedding, 1.3k. fem
Steve holds your hand all the way to the garden. It isn't proper to see him so late at night, especially the night before your wedding, but the guards lining the corridors say little as you pass. Selenite shines under your slippers, white shot through with an impossible light marbling.
Steve sees where you're looking and gives your fingers a tender stroke. “You okay?” he asks.
You nod and follow him down the steps to the garden. Steve has his own private section with a hammock on lifted stone and a terrace covered in honeysuckle. There's a picnic basket and a bottle of something beside it near two round cushions, but the small record player is what catches your attention.
“Oh, you're going to sing for me,” you joke.
“If you want me to. Are you warm enough?”
The weather is temperate. Not as hot as you'd hoped but it is getting late, the surrounding light of the kingdom and the crystal eucalyptus sconces glowing a minty blue that chases back the shadows but not the lack of sun.
“It's fine,” you say, giving his hand a careful squeeze back. He smiles to himself and helps you around the grass and onto your cushion.
He knows your nerves are shot. You're terrified for tomorrow, so scared of the crowds and the ceremony and the great heavy weight of your tiara. Your dress is less imposing, colourful, gaussian cuts of silk layered over you like something out of your storybooks. When you saw it you gasped, unable to coalesce the image you'd seen in the mirror with your usual reflection.
The wedding is suddenly here. You'll be a princess. You'll be his wife.
“Steve,” you say tightly, wrapping your arms around your knees.
“I know.” He opens the picnic basket and unearths a brown paper bag. “Here.”
You take his little bag knowing already that it'll be filled with pear candies. “We have to run away,” you say, poking nervously through the candy for a small one. You put it between your molars and talk through your teeth. “Tonight.”
“I have my bags packed.” He pulls out a sandwich made of finely cut tofu toasted in paprika and oil, then a second with softer bread. “That's lamb.”
You raise your brows at it. “Thank you, Steve, really, but I'm–”
“Not hungry. Me neither.” He closes the basket and pushes it all away, leaving nothing but air between you. “Do you really want to run away?”
“Do you really want to marry me?” you ask.
“Mm. More than anything,” he says, as though it isn't a big deal, as though he isn't himself. Steve acts like loving you is something he would've done regardless, and it always catches you off guard.
“But if we weren't–”
“But we are.”
“If we weren't–” you stress.
Steve crosses his legs on the pillow. He looks completely normal tonight, his hair unstyled and curling by his ears, his loose shirt and pants reminiscent of your own. The only thing that gives him away is the silver ring on his pinky finger that denotes the kingdom's main house. It's priceless. You could live a thousand luxurious lives off of the spoils you'd make from selling it.
He twists it around his fingers when he notices your gaze. “Okay,” he says, pulling it off.
“What?”
“If you want to run away, I won't stop you. I've told you before that I'd never make you do something you don't want to do, and I still mean it.” He smiles handsomely as he offers you the ring. “Take it, sweetheart. I don't want it.”
You take it uncertainly.
“But if you want to stay,” he adds, his naked hand on the floor between you, “then I promise to make you believe it.”
“Believe what?” you ask through a frown.
“That being soulmates doesn't matter. Of course it does, I couldn't be luckier in who the fates picked for me, or the stars, whatever you believe, sweetheart, I couldn't be luckier. And if we weren't soulmates, I– if we met somewhere different, I'd still want to marry you. You know that? I look at you, and you're it for me.”
You shake your head. “Would you come with me?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Is that hard to believe?” He gets onto his knees adjacent and holds out his hand, relief like the sun shining in his warm voice as he murmurs, “I'm freaking you out.”
“You're not.”
“I'm being too forward.” His smile wavers. “The wedding isn't for us. I want to marry you, but we both– I know you're not ready. You're doing this for me, because I've asked you to, because they've asked us to, and you're not ready. We don't know each other.”
“We do,” you say.
“Okay, we do.” He rubs the back of your hand, once again so tender. “But not as much as most married people do.”
“Right,” you say quietly.
“And the wedding is a total sham anyways. You're going to look beautiful, and I'll be handsome like always,” —you laugh breathlessly, your panic melding to relief— “but it's definitely not for us. I get that. There's no pressure for anything to change between us, okay? I like things how they are.”
He shrugs and it's such a cute gesture, you forget for a moment what's worrying you. A split second, thinking, oh, he's lovely to look at. He acts like the Prince he is. He acts as though he's already fallen in love with you.
“I think I'm just panicking because we don't have any choice,” you say.
“We do, honey,” he reassures you. “Of course we do. If you really, really don't want to get married, we won't.”
It would cause a huge palaver, and it might break his heart a little. It might, when you think about it, break yours.
“But I'm marrying you,” you say.
He breathes out hard, taking your shoulder into his hand to pull you forward for a relieved, chaste kiss. It's so sweet and warm, you can't help pulling away too fast. His soul mark glows a rosy pink. “You're marrying me,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I'm a lucky guy, huh?”
He holds out his arms for a hug which you immediately give.
“I want to marry you,” you continue, delighted when he relaxes in your arms. “I do. It's not about you, I'm just terrified. I mean, it's not really us? I didn't even get to write my own vows.”
A small but heavily felt silence lapses. “You wanted to do that?” Steve asks.
You nod into his shoulder, refusing to lean away even as his hands retract. “Yeah,” you say, voice small.
“You really want to?”
“You've promised me a lot of things since I found you. I would've liked to return the favour,” you say, flustered.
“You found me,” he says. You don't need to see his face to hear his smile. "Here, give me that back. If you aren't running away, you may as well wear it." He slides it onto your marriage finger. The significance isn't lost.
He gets you both a pad of paper and a cup of scratchy pens, and you spend the evening writing vows you're too embarrassed to say aloud to one another in the garden. You swap papers, and spend the night pouring over his promises with an aching awe built in your chest. When the maids come calling that morning you're already awake, getting ready for the day ahead.
I'll make you laugh, and I'll keep you safe, and I'll never let the Palace idiots boss you around. I'll be the best kiss ever, and a better friend. I'll be careful with your heart if you're careful with mine. And I won't laugh if you slip in your new shoes. Much.
#prince!steve au#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things 4
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Winter's King 3
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: wooooo, friday!
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.
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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Despite the unease of the king’s proximity, you drift down into a hollow sleep. The sort that is grey and empty and dizzying. When you wake, you’re alone. The bed is sparse and spacious as you lay tucked in the blanket, snug around your figure. You slide your arm up as you feel a cool graze along your scalp.
You fix your cap back on your head, wrinkled from being caught beneath you. You roll onto your back and tug at the blanket until you can sit up. As you do, you notice the yellow beam around the silhouette at the window. The king’s hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight.
You rub your cheek, hot from friction with the pillow. You look down at the blanket rumpled around your waist. You kick if off and climb off the mattress. There is no time to be sleeping. By the slant of the light, you know it’s due time to rise. You turn to tidy the covers, pulling them taut, corner to corner.
You brush smooth your apron as best you can, a dent left diagonal down the skirt. You turn and glance towards the door. You don’t dare leave without dismissal, nor do you wish to break the king’s peace.
“You slept heavy,” he says without moving, “you must have needed it.”
“Your highness,” you croak through a dry throat. “I didn’t...”
“Didn’t what?” He wonders. “All must rest, even the mice and meagre.”
You bow your head and fold your hands. You stay as you are as he lowers his own head and his arms move as he fusses with something. There’s a soft tear and he brings something to his mouth. He turns and leans against the curtain, crushed to the stone by his weight.
“And they must eat,” he offers a morsel of salted meat.
“Your highness, it is generous--”
“But you mean to deny me,” he challenges. “Does modesty serve you as well as you serve others?”
You don’t know how to answer that. You press your lips tight and once more lower your chin. You wring your hands and markedly stop yourself.
He crosses the room with slow, long strides. He stops before you. The morning light limns his thick body through the white fabric of his nightshirt. He brings the strip of jerky before you, holding it below your nose.
“I do not trust a turncloak to feed me from his trough,” he intones, gently leaning the meat to your lips. “A king must worry about such things, but not a servant. Who would ever need taint their food, if they let them any at all.”
You look up at him. His eyes blaze down at you, stunningly gold, like sparkling coins. He prods with the strip and you open your lips to let it slip through you nibble through the thick morsel until a piece breaks off and he rescinds the rest, taking a bite of his own.
“It’s the last of my elk, and stale at that,” he explains, “in the hinterland, we do eat more than salt, but on campaign, we must eat what we have.”
You chew, watching him as he turns to pace. He makes you curious. He is a fearsome man, even in only a night shirt, but he thinks overly much.
“That summer maiden will not like the cold,” he mutters as he rounds the tub then comes back to you. Half the strip remains. He offers it, “take it.”
You do as he bids. He watches you intently as you hold the jerky and you bring it close to your lips. You stop, “thank you, your highness. You are a generous king.”
“No, I am a prudent king. Not always generous, not always cruel, only when the moment calls for one or the other,” he stays before you, eyes torrid as they cling to you.
“Well, you’ve been generous to me, your highness,” you say before you bite into the meat. It is heavier than what you are used to but tasty nonetheless.
“Prudent,” he repeats, “so I must send you away. Send you back.” He inhales, his broad chest lifting, making him appear even larger, “you have done your duty admirably, little maid.”
You chew, making a face as you can’t answer for your mouthful. He inclines his head towards you.
“No,” he shakes his head, “say nothing more. Eat and go. There is still a war to be won before I claim my kingdom.” He puts his back to you and marches back to the window, adding in a grey tone, “...and a wife.”
His last words are so quiet, so dull, you hardly can discern them. He leans on the window ledge as he stares off beyond the walls. The sun rises around him, casting him in gold. You swallow what’s left of the elk strip and shuffle to the door. As you open it, you hear a sigh, and you close it behind you without glancing back.
The king does not sound pleased with his nuptials. So is the fare of nobles and their titles. Often the very status that brings them privilege brings them just as much misery. A handmaid only need worry about her next task.
⚔️
Lady Jazlene is far more satisfied with her imminent union. She is aflutter as you enter her chambers. Merinda watches with dulcet irritation. The duke’s daughter flits around, throwing silks and satins. Lady Rezlyn watches her from a cushioned bench, a goblet in hand as she tuts and tisks at very choice.
“Mother,” Jazlene tosses down layers of goldenrod yellow, “if none should do, a new dress might be cut, yes?”
“A new dress? Of what fabric? We are in wartime, dearest,” Rezyn scoffs.
“And yet you have your reds and your citrus,” the younger accuses.
“I need wine to steel my nerves and citrus to fill my stomach. You needn’t a dress to live. You have many and more,” Rezlyn snickers.
“Mother, I swear you do goad me. He is a king. And the war should end soon. There must be silk to be had,” Jazlene whines, and what of jewels? Pearls? Emerald? Sapphire?”
Merinda shifts, you can sense her thoughts and the little whispers she’s hoarding away for you. She always has the sharpest quips about the pair of ladies and their whimsies. You do agree with some but you can no more blame them for being frivolous noblewoman than you can yourself for being a simple maid.
Jazlene continues her storm around the chamber. Her nerves are contagious, you can feel a similar stirring in your gut. Perhaps she realises the same as you do. All she knows is about to change irrevocably.
You try to think of what it will be like when she is married. She must have the same thoughts. You can’t quite picture it. Geralt sitting where Rezlyn does, perhaps he too holds a goblet, Jazlene rambling over her skirts and gems and all the things she wants. You don’t imagine he’d listen for long. Then again, you don’t know the king at all. Not enough to presume you would know.
Lady Jazlene puts a string of rubies around her neck and preens in the mirror. She points to you then her hair. You come forward and set to pinning her hair. Lady Rezlyn rises and you peek at her in the mirror. She scowls at her wine.
“Enough fussing, your father wishes us to see the king to break our fast,” the elder holds out her goblet and Merinda comes forward to take it. “And I need more wine.”
Jazlene shoos you away and stands. She hangs her shoulders and drags her feet, “mother, I will be a queen soon. You cannot order me around so.”
“Not as yet,” Rezlyn warns, “you have much to learn of being a wife before you worry so much of queendom.”
Jazlene huffs and pushes her shoulders back. She looks at her reflection once more, posing and posturing. She curves her lips in a wry smirk.
“Queendom,” she trills, “oh mother.”
“Yes, yes, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lady Rezlyn stomps over to her daughter and takes her by the wrist, “you must first think of how to please your husband. As I can tell, it won’t be an easy task, and yet he is as any man is. He is... still a man.”
“Oh mother,” Jazlene giggles.
“Look at you, you are marvelous,” Rezlyn pets her daughter’s cheek. “He is a warrior; he holds his shield close but he cannot resist your beauty.”
The mother keeps hold of her daughter and leads her to the doors. You and Merinda follow at several paces. A habit to keep from trodding on their skirts. The enter the corridor and tension coils around them. The descend to the great hall and to the west wing where the dining hall resides.
Lord Dustan stands by the head of the table. On most days he would sit in that chair but he only paces around it, tugging at his little triangle beard. You rarely see him so restless. Often, he is as careless as his wife and daughter.
“Husband, I thought we were to break fast--”
“Yes, yes,” he waves off his wife’s words, “the king has yet to awaken.”
You stand by a statue, just to one side of the door. You cannot see the opening around it. You find comfort in its shadow, content to go unnoticed. You wonder if anyone looked upon you, would they see your thoughts. The king is awake but why hasn’t he emerged?
“What about the marriage?” Rezlyn asks, “a contract?”
“Wife, if I say it is to be, it is,” Dustan retorts, “must you ever heap upon me?”
“It isn’t my intent. I am only making certain our daughter’s future is secured. That our family name is to prosper. Husband, I ask in the interest of your profit.”
“You ask too much,” the duke hisses.
Before he can receive his wife’s sharp response, sturdy footfalls approach and mute their conversation. A shadow casts through the doorway and you know by the silhouette it can only be one person. King Geralt enters, unassuming in his mail and black clothes. His silver hair is half up, a braid down the back of it. He has his sword strapped to his back.
“Your highness, the cooks are preparing breakfast--”
“There is not time for you to sit and gorge,” the king snarls, “there is a war to be won. There is no advantage in waiting on word of your deceit to spread.”
Dustan has the grace to look ashamed. He twitches and paws at his overcoat, “I... your highness, I would need time to prepare for my departure.”
“You need mail and a sword. You have a barn full of horses. Mount it and we will be away.” The king insists, “my men march within the hour. We will remember who our allies were when the day is won.”
“Y-your highness, I--”
“That is the trouble with summer lords. You think war is played across a board,” the king growls. “war is won in blood and steel. If all you can offer me is words, I am not interested in this contract.”
“Your highness, I will ready. At once,” Lord Dustan kicks his heels together, “you are right. My spurs are ready.”
The king drones grimly. He sets his shoulders and opens and closes a fist. Jazlene looks at her mother then steps forward.
“But your highness, our marriage--”
“That contract will be met when I have my terms. When my kingdom is forged complete, then I shall have a queen. No sooner than that,” he grits at her.
“Ah, yes, certainly your highness, then you shall have my favour to ride with,” she pulls a handkerchief from her bodice, “to comfort you in the battles to come.”
She waves the cloth at him and he says nothing. He grunts and turns to her father. He grabs the duke by his scruff, “let’s hope you can sit a saddle. Carriages are not built for war.”
King Geralt turns, dragging the Duke of Debray like a stray cat. The king’s golden eyes flick over to you and his jaw ticks. He raises his chin just slightly as he passes, putting his eyes straight only as the meet the corners. He stalks from the room with his blithering ally in tow.
Jazlene presses her knuckles to her forehead and whines, “mother? Am I to wait anon for my husband? What shall I do? War, war, war! Does it ever end?”
“Daughter,” Lady Rezlyn sweeps around the table to grab her daughter by the shoulders, “there is no use in bawling. Do not be a child. You are of an age--”
“Of an age where I should be married!” Jazlene blusters. “How can I be calm when I am promised what I have always wanted and then it is snatched away?”
“The king will return. As will your father,” Rezlyn shakes her daughter, “King Geralt has made it this far, do not think he will falter now. And when he has claimed victory, he will return to keep good on his promise.” The Lady of Debray lowers her voice, “do you think that your father would break his oath on a chance? That he would gamble. No, he sees what the other lords deny. King Waleran is routed. This war will not last much longer.”
“Truly, mother?” Jazlene bats her lashes, “how do you know?”
“Trust your mother,” Rezlyn speaks as though her daughter is no more than a child. “Your father has risked his neck to claim you a king. Do not doubt him.”
Jazlene considers her mother, searching her face, and pulls her into an embrace. She lets out a shrill squeal and pulls back. Her cheeks round with glee.
“You’re right mother, this is a blessing. This will allow us time to alter a dress fitting for such a wedding.”
“Don’t forget a coronation,” Rezlyn adds coyly.
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#winter's king#the witcher#medieval au
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long live | daniel ricciardo
pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (epilogue to fragile line)
long live the walls we crashed through
i had the time of my life with you
long, long live the walls we crashed through
how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
time passes and feelings may fade, but the memories never will
word count: 7.7k (im so sorry)
warnings/tags: time jumps like always, angst and heartbreak but it's not all sad this time, or is it?
four years later
“Daniel Ricciardo, 2025 Formula 1 World Champion, The Honey Badger,” James Hinchcliffe put his arm around the fellow commentator, “Tell us what you know.”
“What I know, Hinch,” Daniel repeated, taking a dramatic look up towards the clear sky. “What do I know?”
They didn’t need to act like they were friends for the camera, James and Daniel had grown close in a short time, ever since Daniel put down the helmet and picked up a microphone, Replacing the racing overalls with a suit and tie. He had the personality to be a motorsports commentator. No one was surprised when he was announced as Sky Sports newest reporter following his Formula 1 retirement.
And James, a fellow retired driver himself from the IndyCar side, a Canadian with the humour and the banter that could keep up with Daniel, they were truly one of the best duos when it came to motorsports broadcasting.
They weren't often together, though. Daniel stuck to Formula 1. James was a regular for IndyCar. There were only a handful of races where they came together and the Indianapolis 500 was one of them.
They were a comedic duo last year at the 2026 running, it only made sense to bring Daniel back again this year.
“Who’s your money on?” James asked. The question was innocent enough, proposed to most people who didn’t have an association with any team.
Daniel had his answer. Before the race weekend started he had an answer. Before the season started he had an answer.
But he hesitated.
Or, maybe froze was a better word. Daniel froze when he dropped his gaze from the sky and looked further down the pit lane. They didn’t plan on standing a few slots away from the number 6 car of Arrow McLaren, but that's where they found themselves.
Daniel froze when he spotted the familiar face sitting on the bench in the pit wall, looking at the data on the screens and nodding along with the engineer as he spoke. Daniel froze, because even though he knew exactly who was driving that car, he still wasn’t prepared for what he would do when he saw the driver.
When he saw you.
You guys had agreed, long ago, that there would be no more interactions. That your careers, your lives, would be better if the other stayed as far away as possible.
Daniel knew that even now, four years later, he had no right to talk to you, to talk about you. He knew that at this point, it was for the best that ties were still cut, that the conversations didn’t happen. It had been over a year since your last interaction, he was in no position to change that.
And he tried, desperately, over the years to follow the rules you agreed on. You as well kept your distance, you had to.
But you were only human. There had been a few slip ups over the years.
For the remainder of the season, after the Austin race, you both had stuck to your word. You stopped giving the world the moments they were waiting for. You refused to interact with each other, you forced yourself to stop caring.
It grew easier with time. The 2024 season was challenging in itself, but with Max and Daniel fighting amongst each other in a league of their own, you knew you couldn’t fight them in a McLaren. All you could do was make the most of what you had.
Lando and you had a strong opening those first few races. McLaren was third in the constructors for a short time until other teams started to catch up, filling in the holes of their designs.
You quite literally didn’t have time to care about Daniel when you were so focused on the rest of the grid, your actual competition. Ferrari, Mercedes, Aston Martin even. Your upgrades were no match with theirs and by the end of the season, it was disappointing to look back without a podium to reminisce on. Lando scored two, one in Spa, the other in Singapore. You did well, but not well enough to bring home a trophy.
2025 was…different.
In many ways. Firstly, the McLarens showed consistency as the season continued. You and Lando were always top contenders for points.
Secondly, Daniel was giving Max a run for his money. He had a bit the year prior, but this season was far more competitive. You, like everyone else, was dying to see who would pull through and score that first place trophy at the end of the day, but you had to hide your desires for it to be Daniel.
You still hadn’t spoken. You had successfully veered away from any accidental interactions. His name stayed out of your mouth and at this point, everyone on the grid knew there was a disconnect. You both had gone out of your way, this year and in 2024, to assure there would be no media appearances together, no driver conferences, nothing that the online world could twist.
But you couldn’t do anything about still being happy for him. That would never go away. You would always want Daniel to succeed. You just couldn’t be watching the screens when he podiumed. You couldn’t go out with him and the others to celebrate. You couldn’t wish him a congrats in passing like Lando could if you were walking down the paddock.
Daniel felt the same. While the love was gone, there was nothing he could do about those proud moments. He wanted you to make a name in this sport, to make history. He wanted you to be someone and even though he once wanted to be at your side while you planted your roots, he couldn’t.
Except that one time when he physically was at your side.
There was a mistake in the media pen scheduling on that Thursday in Miami. From what you knew, Daniel was supposed to be in the press conference and you’d be one of the ten unlucky few that had to stand under the Miami sun in the football field, talking about how you were looking forward to this race when in reality you personally thought this was the worst race on the calendar.
But it was too hot to complain about anything other than the heat and how you needed to change shirts as soon as the media pen segment was over because the breathable material of your papaya polo was anything but breathable.
You had barely stepped into the roped off circle to join the other drivers when you heard your name being called. Glancing over your shoulder, it took a second to realise that the call was coming from a young girl running in your direction. Her paddock lanyard flailing over her shoulder as she sprinted, one hand held onto her McLaren hat so it wouldn’t fall off.
“She can’t be here-”
“Piss off, she’s fine,” you weren’t even sure who you interrupted, but you didn’t give the risk of a reprending a second thought as you stepped forward to meet the young fan.
She was small, and you weren’t a professional when it came to guessing the ages of kids but you would put her somewhere in the range of six and eight. Maybe?
You knelt down to be more at eye level, “Hi darling, what’s your name?”
“Cara,” she answered, slightly out of breath. There was a gap in her teeth from where she must have just lost one, but it didn’t affect her grin at all.
“Hi Cara,” you smiled at her, only then noticing she wore a shirt with your last name on it. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw an older gentleman running towards her. “Is that your dad?”
Cara looked and then nodded, but she didn’t care that she had completely abandoned him and given him a heart attack. “I saw you last year here. You finished fifth, my dad took me to watch. He says you- he says that you’re the only girl driver.”
“I am the only girl driver,” you confirmed, pouting slightly. You brushed your hand over her shoulder to smooth out the material of the shirt, “That should change soon, don’t you think? All of these boys need to be put in their place and I can’t do it alone.”
“I can join,” Cara suggested. The carefree optimism was a rare sight at one of these race weekends, but you admired it in Cara. She was too young to know the difficulties of being a female in this field and hopefully by the time she grew up, there were less walls for her to climb over, just doors to open.
“You can join,” you nodded at the idea, laughing slightly, mostly because her dad had caught up to her and he was more out of breath than she saw. You smiled at him but looked back at Cara, “Do you race?”
“Yes!”
“No,” her dad answered, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet, at least. We’ve signed her up for karting this summer, we’ll see how it goes.”
“I can already tell you’ll be a natural,” you told Cara. Watching her face light up was probably the most rewarding feeling you’d get all weekend.
“I want to be like you. I want to win races, I want to win a championship!”
“You know what Cara, I can’t break every record, being the first girl driver. So I’ll save the championship one for you, how about that? I want to see you become the first girl to win the championship.” You gave her arm a squeeze and then stood up, turning your focus to her dad.
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and although you couldn’t make assumptions that he was single, the greying hair at a fairly young age and the bags under his eyes told you that he was mostly likely the main caretaker for Cara.
“She’s got dreams,” you said.
He nodded, but smiled proudly, “That she does.”
You didn’t want to speak negatively about this industry in front of Cara, you didn’t want to crush her dreams, but you also didn't want her to grow up and be hopelessly disappointed either.
“It’s not easy for girls in this sport,” you told him. “But if she’s serious, if both of you are, look into working with Mary from Victory Speedway, located out in Tampa. She’s got contacts with F1 Academy as well. They’re goal is to make it easier.”
“Thank you,” he nodded, holding out his hand to shake. “And thank you for talking with Cara. Both of us are big fans, you truly are inspiring.”
You chatted for a bit longer, ignoring Oliver who was at your side reminding you that you had media duties. They could wait. A photo with the girl that seemed to be your biggest fan and maybe one day your predecessor, couldn’t wait.
No one really heard what you spoke about, the other drivers had their own obligations in the media pen.
Daniel, though, he listened.
He was standing right near the entrance when Cara had run up. He had watched you bend down to chat with her, making her a priority opposed to the reporters. He was less than two feet away as he overheard your conversation and when you turned around, ready to get the media day over with, you met his eyes.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t look away.
Daniel wanted to tell you he admired that conversation, the hope you installed in the young fan. He wanted to tell you that you made a great role model, for not just girls but all aspiring drivers. He wanted to say a lot of things to you.
He settled on a question, “You’re not trying to win the championship?”
This was the first time you had spoken in months and it wasn’t even in private. It was quite literally in front of cameras, reporters, people with audio recording devices and microphones. You opened your mouth slightly only to lock up, giving him an apologetic look because you both knew better than to be having any sort of interaction.
You turned to face the first reporter, ignoring Daniel’s question completely. He just nodded to himself and walked to his own spot, keeping you in the corner of his eye.
This young reporter, though, was also curious, having overheard what Daniel asked.
“You’re not vying for a championship? Does Zak Brown know this?” He asked with a soft chuckle.
You shrugged and gave him a smile, “I mean, every driver's dream is the championship, but it’s not my goal currently. Your goals can, and should, be different than your dreams. And yes, Zak knows this, don’t you worry.”
“Your goal then, what is it?”
You inhaled, thinking to yourself for a second, “I’ve got a few and I have a good team supporting me while I work towards them. First would be to make as much history as I can, set as many records while I have a spot in Formula 1 and then I want to help other female drivers break them.”
“You want your records to be broken?”
“If it means getting more females into Formula 1, then yes.”
Daniel, who was in the middle of trying to listen to the reporter in front of him, smiled as he heard that. It was a very you response. He leaned forward, gripping the railing a bit because he completely misheard his own question and needed him to repeat it.
“And your other goal?” The young reporter asked you.
Your lips curved into more of a devious smile, deciding to keep that one close to your chest. “Do you have any questions about the race this weekend? Or are you trying to write a biography on my life?”
Daniel was dying to know what it was too. He spent the rest of that media session racking through the memories of you, there were a lot, trying to think if you ever had that conversation. You must have, right? So why couldn’t he remember?
When all of you made your way out and back to the paddock, Daniel ignored the voice in his head telling him to just let it go. He completely drowned it out as he jogged up to your side, refraining from reaching out and brushing his hand over your elbow to grab your attention. Instead he just said,
“Hey.”
You glanced up, instinctively stepping to the side as you walked to put more space between your bodies.
“Hi,” you breathed out, pulling your eyes off of him and on the Red Bull motorhome that was coming up. This conversation would be short, he’d have to go back inside. You’d be fine for ten seconds, right?
“So what-” he cleared his throat. This shouldn’t have been awkward but it was. After so long of not even glancing at each other, there were new lines painted between you. Daniel didn’t know how to navigate them, and honestly, neither did you.
“Triple Crown, Dan,” you answered, knowing that's where he was going when he opened his mouth.
The Triple Crown. Monaco. Indy 500. 24 Hours of Le Mans.
He took a second to process that goal, not having expected it in the slightest. When he nodded, you could see the hurt in his eyes, only there was less pain and more distance. He didn’t know you like he thought he did.
“I never knew you were aiming for the Triple Crown.”
“You never asked.”
He had trained you, helped you become the best athlete you could be. He had introduced you to the right people. He acted as a mentor, but the conversations you had about racing were limited. There was a lack of communication in that sense because why bring work home with you?
But that was the wedge driven between you. Had you talked about racing, contracts, your futures, you would have never found yourself in that McLaren contract scandal that ultimately broke you two up.
He nodded, because what else could he say to that? You gave him a soft smile and told yourself to keep walking, to move to the other side of the paddock as Daniel headed into the Red Bull motorhome.
You don’t interact again until Monaco. Daniel now knew winning this race meant more to you than others. Winning this would be one third of the Triple Crown checked off and as much as he was gunning for the podium, thankful for his P2 starting position, he saw that you were starting fourth and took a breath of relief. You had a shot.
Daniel wasn’t sure what came over him when he saw you in the paddock after qualifying. Maybe it was because you not completely shutting him down in Miami gave him a strange surge of confidence to approach you again, or maybe it was because he was ignoring all the voices in his head to just keep walking. Whatever it was, Daniel saw you chatting with a member of Sky Sports and as he walked passed, patted your shoulder in a congratulatory manner.
You paused whatever it was you were saying and turned in his direction, just in time to see him give you a smile and a thumbs up as he continued on his way. You returned it, but that small interaction had you stumbling over your words for the next two hours.
Not because you were smitten, you were past that. You didn’t look at Daniel anymore and lose your train of thought, you didn’t get lost in a daze and allow everything else to fade around you.
But he didn’t seem to let go of you completely yet, and you could work with that. You could be civil. You could be neutral during race weekends, as long as it didn’t go further than the friendly smiles and minimal chats.
It shouldn’t have been hard to keep the conversations short, you hadn’t actually had anything meaningful to say to each other in over a year. When you ran into him after the race on Sunday, after he claimed the title of Monaco Grand Prix race winner for a second time, you should have just said congratulations and kept walking.
But Daniel saw you as he was propped up against the side of the Red Bull motorhome and then he stood up straighter, almost inviting you to walk up to him. There were no cameras around anymore, the majority of the paddock had gone home so you felt safer, sort of. If the world hadn’t lost their minds at the clip of him patting your back yesterday, you could talk to him now.
The Red Bull engineer he was with said his goodbyes and smiled politely at you as you approached, stopping at a safe distance.
“Another Monaco win under your belt.”
“So it seems,” Daniel tried his best to not look too proud of himself. You could see his dimples poking through. You wanted him to not be holding back, you missed his grin but gone were the days when he didn’t have to refrain with you.
“You deserve it,” you nodded, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. You were scared of any stragglers with iPhones, but no one around seemed to care that you and Daniel were talking. You were drivers, it shouldn’t have been a strange sight.
“You deserve it,” Daniel playfully shot back. “I mean, I couldn’t just hand it over this year though, despite your Triple Crown goal.”
“Oh but next year? You’ll let me have it then?” You asked, eyebrows raised. It was a joke, a small tease, but Daniel’s smile slipped and you caught it. You caught it and you stepped forward, hand flinching because it would be moments like this where you’d want to reach for him but you couldn’t do that anymore, could you?
Daniel tensed. Now it was his turn to look anxiously around, “I might not-” a sharp inhale passed through his lips, “Yeah I might not be here next year.”
You scoffed because that idea was preposterous, “Oh shut up.”
“No it’s true,” Daniel said, but his smile told you that he wasn’t sad about it. “You know how your goal is the Triple Crown?”
“Yes.”
“Mine’s the championship, sweets.”
You weren’t given an opportunity to react to the nickname because he continued on explaining without missing a beat. Either he didn’t see the way saying sweets affected you or he didn’t even notice he said it because even after all this time, it still came naturally to him.
“There’s a clause in my contract,” he said. “If I win the championship this year, we can renegotiate. I can leave, I can- I can retire. The way I want to.”
You didn’t know how to process this.
Daniel belonged in Formula 1. He fought so hard for his seat, he was a mess when he was left without one and now there was a chance he’d be gone?
And even though you were only eight races in, already he was leading the driver standings over Max, not by much, but he was. There was a strong possibility Daniel could take the championship home at the end of the season.
You couldn’t say what was on your mind. You couldn’t say, selfishly, I hope you lose the championship. You couldn’t say that it was impossible to imagine the paddock without him because even those few months when he wasn’t racing, he was still there.
“We’ve still got a few months to go,” Daniel’s voice broke you from your thoughts, trying to move to a brighter note because that’s just who he was. “But this could be good for you. You’ll have a real shot at winning Monaco next year. But I mean- you technically already won Monaco.”
“That was F2.”
“I think it still counts.”
“I think I’ll win it again, just to be safe.”
Daniel liked that response, he liked how confident you were that the win was coming. He nodded and he really would have liked to talk to you more about this, about his potential leave, about your success, but when he was called from across the paddock you didn’t hesitate before saying goodbye. The conversation was long enough.
Things seemed lighter between you after that.
You didn’t stop yourself from being visibly happy when he was doing well. You laughed if you overheard the stupid shit he said in the paddock. You didn’t make a big deal about it when you two were signed up for the same press conference session. Granted, you still sat on complete opposite ends of the couch, but you sat there with a smile because you liked hearing Daniel talk about the lead he still carried in the standings.
Spa was the turning point for you two.
While you hadn’t taken any more steps beyond paddock conversations and friendly interactions, what was Daniel supposed to do when you both ended up on the podium together? Him on top, claiming first, you right next to him on the second step?
You both held back when you climbed out of the cars. He opted for a friendly pat on the back even though he wanted nothing more than to bring you in for an embrace. You had podiumed once already this season, but not with Daniel. You stood between the two Mercedes drivers back in Austria but now you were there, with Daniel at your side, both of you beaming.
You were proud of yourselves. You were proud of each other.
Both of you had dreamt of this moment, standing next to each other on the podium. You still remembered that conversation years ago, trying to imagine what it would be like to hear the cheers for both of you.
‘You’ll have to do a shoey.’
‘Only if you win. I’m not doing one if I win.’
You had shared this dream when you were in love and even though that wasn’t the case anymore, the dream was still very much alive. Because of that, it almost didn’t feel right.
It felt sort of unfulfilling, despite you being handed a heavy trophy.
But this was a moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. All of your accomplishments were held very close to your heart but this one meant more than you could put into words.
Hands shaking, crowd going wild, you were on top of the world and you were standing next to the man you used to be in love with. You glanced to the side to watch him, not able to stop yourself from smiling wide and then wider still as he held his head high like a hero.
Daniel was larger than life.
He always would be.
You tried not to let yourself think that this might be the only chance you’d get to stand here with him. This win only pushed him further ahead in the championship and you were, seemingly, the only one who knew this year would be his last if he ended up winning.
You had to hold onto this moment. It wouldn’t come again.
To everyone watching at home, this was the start of a new age with you and Daniel. Fans could see the way you two interacted, the sheer joy you had for each other, something they hadn’t seen since you still raced in F2.
To you, this was the beginning of the end.
Finally, you and Daniel were getting to a place where things could be good and in a few short months, he’d be gone.
You couldn’t think about it more, not when you felt champagne being sprayed in your direction. You were late to the game and popped yours after Daniel and Max had, but you still joined in with the celebration.
You laughed when Daniel took his shoe off and poured some of the bubbly liquid into the sole. He laughed when you refused to drink it, both of you ignoring the fact that if you were still in love, if you were still together, you would have done the shoey with him.
Daniel was content with the nod. He knew you were happy for him, the same way he was happy for you. But neither of you could show it the way you wanted to.
The championship win was decided at the second last race of the season, Qatar.
You didn’t have a good weekend, and you knew this. You took responsibility for the poor qualifying, the bad performance, for all of it. But you were distracted, unable to keep yourself from thinking about Daniel because if he won this race, he won it all.
And then he’d walk away.
You were conflicted. You wanted to see Daniel take home the win but selfishly, you wanted him in Formula 1. You always wanted him in Formula 1.
So when he crossed that line, ahead of Max, ahead of the rest of the grid, when he did celebratory donuts and stood on the podium with his chin held high, you stood on the sidelines and ignored how you used to wish for a day like this, wished for a day where he would be crowned the Championship Winner.
Daniel Ricciardo. 2025 Formula 1 World Champion.
It had a nice ring to it.
That’s what you told him that night when you were out at dinner and saw him sitting with a few members from his team just a few feet away. You weren’t surprised to see him at the establishment, it was exclusive, it was way overpriced and it was where many drivers went prior to going out and partying.
You avoided his eyes that evening, scared that if you’d meet them you’d be forced to accept the reality that he really was leaving. At least, you know, if you didn’t look at him, you could live in your own little world where he wasn’t gone just yet.
You were genuinely annoyed when you bumped into him after leaving the toilets. The hall was dim, narrow and there was quite literally nowhere for you to go when he turned the corner and stopped walking when he saw you.
“Hi,” you swallowed, anxiously smoothing out the skirt you wore, even more anxiously trying to avoid his eyes.
“Hi,” Daniel slid his hands into his pockets. His Enchante shirt clung to his skin due to the heat, but you told yourself you weren’t allowed to look at the way his little curls stuck to his forehead.
“You, um-” you held your hand out. “Congratulations, really. Daniel Ricciardo. 2025 Formula 1 World Champion. It’s got a nice ring to it.”
He laughed and nodded along, “Yeah, yeah, thank you.”
When he leaned against the wall, you realised you were stuck. There was no getting out of this conversation. No escaping this reality.
It didn’t help that the rest of the dining room faded behind him. The people, the sounds, the light, it was just Daniel.
Just Daniel and just you.
How it always should have been.
How it would never be again.
You opened your mouth, intent on saying something else about his win but all that came out was a shaky breath and a choked back sob that triggered the tears you didn’t even know were building. It was quiet, but it was desperate and it was painful and Daniel didn’t hesitate before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your cries were muffled against his shirt and Daniel stroked your back and then your hair, holding you tight against him.
You were happy for him, really. If anyone deserved this win, it was him but god you were devastated because up until now, you didn’t realise you still held this much love for him. Up until now, you didn’t realise that even after everything, you still needed him.
You needed him.
“What am I going to do without you on the grid?” You asked, your voice was already quiet but it was even more so muffled as you spoke directly into his body.
Daniel chuckled, it vibrated through his chest. “What you’ve been doing this whole time, sweets. You’ll make history. You’ll put the rest of the guys in their places. You’ll be the driver I know you to be.”
It took a few seconds, maybe a few minutes actually, of just standing there and crying into his chest until you snapped out of it. You weren’t dating anymore, your conversations now didn’t last longer than five minutes, it was embarrassing to be losing it in front of him, because of him.
You stepped back and wiped your eyes, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t- I just-”
“I’ll miss you too, Y/N,” he breathed out.
You nodded, because if you tried to say anything else you would be crying again. Daniel held his finger up and walked into the toilets to grab some tissue for you. It took another minute for you to be able to trust your voice again.
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” you dabbed at your cheeks, knowing you’d have to go back to the hotel to fix your make up before going out again.
“I’ve got things lined up,” Daniel shrugged.
“Care to share?”
He tried to hide his smile and failed miserably, “Just don’t be surprised if I show up at the track next year with a microphone instead of a helmet.”
That was about as much he would say as his deal with Sky Sports wasn’t yet official.
But now you felt more like an idiot for crying about him leaving if he wasn’t even actually leaving. You’d still see him. He’d still be around. You could work with that.
Daniel could still be proud of your accomplishments, even if he was on the sidelines.
He was, however, a little conflicted when you won the last race of the 2025 season.
You made history in Abu Dhabi. The first female driver to win a race. This was a wall you had spent years trying to crash through and now there you were. On top of the podium, on top of the world as confetti fell to the ground around you, champagne sprayed in all directions.
This was your moment.
Your win, your first win and all you wanted was Daniel up on that podium with you. As happy as you were to celebrate with Max and George, you couldn’t deny something was missing.
Because you really could never cut yourself off from Daniel completely, could you? You could try, you could attempt to distance yourself, you could stop the interactions and you could tell yourself you didn’t care but you were right that day you told Lando that Daniel was your missing piece.
So it made sense that you were at a bit of a loss for words when he showed up at your hotel room that next morning.
You invited him in, despite being slightly hungover. He didn’t care that your clothes were spread all throughout the room, but he did smile at the sight of your trophy on proud display on the table before you had to give it to your engineer for safe travels.
“So this is it,” you sighed, sitting down on the far side of the couch. Daniel sat down as well, the opposite side, arm stretched along the back of it.
“This is it,” he agreed.
“When does the news drop?”
He clicked his tongue, “Tomorrow.”
“Who’s replacing you?”
“Not sure,” he scratched the stubble along his jaw. “My guess is Lawson or possibly Palou.”
You sat in silence for a while, thankful that it wasn’t uncomfortable because it easily could have been.
But you both grew this season.
You could both admit now, being in love and being drivers was an unattainable dream.
But you could be drivers and you could still have love for each other.
You reached across the couch, a gentle smirk playing on your lips as you nudged his arm, “So what are you going to say about me?”
Daniel dipped his head back and laughed, “What do you mean?”
“You know,” you shrugged. “Like when you talk about us drivers on Sky Sports. What are you going to say about me?”
“I’m going to say that not only did you steal my seat, but you stole the glory of my last race by winning.”
You rolled your eyes, recognizing the sarcasm but you were thankful his words weren’t malicious anymore, “I thought we were past this. I didn’t steal your seat, Dan.”
“No, but I don’t think I can joke about it on air so this is my last chance.”
You reached behind you and grabbed one of the throw pillows, smacking it against his chest. You chose to look at this playfully, instead of it as the inevitable end.
And Daniel needed a second to think about your question anyway, so the joke was just a way to stall. Honestly, he was a little surprised that he hadn’t already thought about it considering you were on his mind more than you should have been.
He cleared his throat and adjusted himself on the couch cushion. You could see that he was struggling to come up with a good response and you didn’t mean for this. You didn’t want him to think he had to choose his words carefully.
“Hey,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, “Promise me something.”
You met his eyes, his dark brown eyes that once had such a strong hold over you. You looked at him and remembered why you fell in love with him in the first place. In this moment, it was hard to remember why you ever wanted to stop loving him.
Had you stopped loving him? Did that day really come?
You could have love for someone and not be in love with him anymore, but you didn’t think you’d find yourself in a position where you had to differentiate between the two. You thought, you knew, you would always be in love with Daniel that to sit here and think that maybe, possibly, you didn’t anymore, felt like a betrayal.
He was supposed to be the one that stood by you through it all. The good, the bad, the wins, the losses. It wasn’t supposed to end with you two sitting on the couch and admitting that this truly was over.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this, but you always knew it would.
Fate stepped in and whether you liked it or not, it was forcing you into a goodbye, into an acceptance that your lives would no longer be intertwined, that you couldn’t go back to the way things were.
“Anything,” Daniel spoke softly. Maybe one day he would have said, I’d promise you the world, if you asked, but that seemed a little too forward for the moment.
“Be honest, Dan,” you told him, your hand finding his over the edge of the couch. Your thumb brushed against his fingers and both of you fought the urge to just connect them further. “Tell them my name, but tell them how I got to Formula 1. Tell them it was you, that you helped me pave the way, that you helped me make a name in this sport. Don’t just point to the pictures of me, point to the ones of us. Now that you’re done with racing, I don’t care about the assumptions, the rumours, any of it. Tell people how it really was you and I, how we were the team that should have been, that never was, please, because even though I know-”
You paused, taking a second to swallow the lump at the back of your throat. You glanced at your hand and maybe it was you or maybe it was him, but your fingers started to interlock. Your eyes stayed glued to the touch as your last admittance filled the air between you.
“I know I could have made it to Formula 1 without you, but I can’t put into words how thankful I am that I didn’t have to.”
Daniel nodded, because he agreed with you. He knew you could have gotten here without him but he too was grateful he was by your side for the start of it. He agreed that you two really were the team that never was but should have been. He nodded and agreed that he would say all of those things.
But you knew that he wouldn’t.
Those words were for him, not the rest of the world.
He would tell people that you shined on top of the podium. He would say that the crowds went wild, louder for you than any other driver.
And he would never say that he had any part of shaping your career. Despite you knowing he did, despite the whole world knowing he played a detrimental part, Daniel didn’t hold onto those connections when you went on to race in 2026 and he stood in the commentators box.
He stayed neutral, surprisingly.
It helped that he didn’t interact with many drivers or if he did, it was never you. He did talk about you, but only about your performance on the track. His colleagues knew not to bring up your past, not when the only thing that mattered was how well you were doing in the present.
He had some thoughts when you announced you were making the switch to IndyCar at the end of this season, but mostly because you made that announcement before the Monaco Grand Prix, before you claimed the win you were chasing, before you could check off one third of the Triple Crown.
He wanted to pull you aside and question why you were making this choice but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t call you out publicly on air like other reporters had.
All he could do was hold his breath after you qualified P2 in Monaco. He sat on the edge of his seat, struggling to do his job, struggling to commentate on the race because the second you made the move to overtake Max and it worked, Daniel had to leave the room.
He had to leave because he knew that if you kept the lead, if you won, he couldn’t celebrate the way he wanted to with cameras on him. Instead, he watched from the privacy of a separate media suite. The broadcast was a few seconds delayed but at least he was able to cheer and be visibly proud of you and not have to hold back when you crossed the line ahead of Max.
You won the Monaco Grand Prix, in a McLaren of all cars, and now he knew what you were gunning for next.
The Indy 500.
Signing that Arrow McLaren deal ended up being the right move after all.
“Who’s your money on?” James Hinchcliffe asked him as they stood on the pit lane where the teams were preparing for the greatest spectacle in racing. The question was innocent enough, proposed to most people who didn’t have an association with any team.
Daniel had his answer. Before the race weekend started he had an answer. Before the season started, he had an answer. Despite knowing you were still far from winning the Indy 500, his money would always be on you.
You looked up from where you sat on the Arrow McLaren bench and you smiled at him.
You were having a pretty good season, for a rookie. With O’Ward and Rossi as your teammates, you knew you couldn’t compare, but they were good people to have on your team, in your corner. They helped you, guided you through the shift from Formula 1 to Indy and you could be proud that in a grid of 26 drivers, you were 11th in the standings.
“Not betting on anyone, James,” Daniel answered, but his eyes were still locked on you and his smirk said otherwise. “It’ll be a good race.”
He could say your name, he wanted to. But Daniel stayed as far away from your life as he could because you decided on it a long time ago and nothing that happened since told him that you’d be going back on that decision, that you wanted him back in your life.
He might not have been a driver anymore, but you still were. So he was content with being civil, neutral. He was fine with the friendly smiles and if an old photo of the two of you circulated every now and again, well, he didn’t hate it.
He sat with the rest of the Indy commentators during the race. He shared his honest opinions throughout and he, along with the other reporters, praised Alexander Rossi for taking home his second Indy 500 victory, eleven years after his first.
But that was not the Arrow McLaren driver he wished was celebrating in Victory Lane.
Daniel waited until his job was done, but he knew he had to find you before the day ended. He wanted to congratulate you on finishing twelfth. That was something he was proud of and he hoped you were as well.
It would only go up from there. The Indy 500 was still an achievable goal.
He found you in the paddock. It wasn’t hard. You stood out, even in the crowd of people. He waited off to the side and watched you take photos with young girls, young fans that resembled that one girl in Miami, all of them looking up to you and thanking you for paving the way for them, for other females in motorsport.
It was by chance that you looked over your shoulder and saw Daniel standing there. He nodded, wordlessly assuring you that he could wait, to take your time with the fans.
He ended up waiting almost fifteen minutes.
Eventually, you started to approach him. Daniel stood up straighter, having been leaning against the Penske trailers until you were done. You still had your racing overalls on, but unzipped and hanging loosely on your hips. The black fireproofs under the papaya looked good on you, but Daniel hadn’t let himself appreciate your appearance for years, he couldn’t start now, even if he really wanted to.
“Hey,” you called out when you were only a few steps away.
“Hey yourself,” Daniel chuckled. When you finally stood in front of him, he was sort of expecting to see a sliver of defeat, but you were happy. You may not have won the 500, but you had a good run and there was always next year. Plus, you still had the rest of the season to finish. The season wasn’t over, you could still make history in this sport.
You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced around, jaw clenched until you finally worked up the courage to meet his eyes.
“So,” you inhaled a breath. “You’ve got some time on your hands now that you’re retired, right?”
Daniel wasn’t sure where this was going but he laughed and nodded, “Somewhat, yes, but I do still work race weekends.”
“But Monday through Wednesday?”
He pondered it for a second, just for dramatic effect. “I’m fairly open.”
You nodded, hoping for that answer.
If you were being honest with yourself, this was a conversation you wanted to have with Daniel since he announced his retirement almost two years ago, you just never knew what the outcome would be.
You felt a bit safer now, knowing that he was based out of the UK and your races were only North American. If he hated where you were going with this, well, it was rare you’d be crossing paths so soon afterwards.
You just had to blurt it out.
“Ever thought about being a trainer?” You asked. “Or a manager? Mentor even? You know- my last mentor walked out on me-”
Daniel cut you off with a booming laugh, “Walked out? Really? Is that what you tell people?”
Him playing along with your humour felt like a weight off your shoulders, “Only if they ask.”
Daniel, finally, didn’t have to refrain himself anymore. He felt confident enough to drape his arm over your shoulders and walk with you down the paddock. For once, he didn’t care if people looked or recorded and secretly, he hoped they did.
All he wanted was to be at your side. All he wanted was for the world to know he was proud of you, that, if you asked, he’d be back in your corner.
And you were asking.
“So you need a mentor?” He repeated. “A trainer?”
Your hand slipped around his waist. It was natural, comforting, right.
“Well, I need to win the 500 eventually and then I need to get into Le Mans. I can’t do it alone.”
Daniel looked at you, wearing that stupid grin you missed so much even if you had memorised it the first day you met. You missed him, despite hearing his voice on the broadcasts and seeing him in the paddock. You missed him, he was your missing piece after all.
Daniel looked at you, and you knew, you weren’t alone.
__________________
the end ♡
taglist: @torossosebs@whatthefuckerr@jspitwall@oconso@tsarinablogs@landowecanbewc@somanyfandomsbruh@christianpulisic10@storminacloud@sunnytkm23@formula1mount@azxulaa@icarus-nex@spideyspeaches @moonvr @destourtereaux @baw-sixteen @cinderellawithashoe @love4lando @alesainz @blueanfield @itsmeempar @vellicora @simple-soul-searcher
for some reason im struggling to add people to the taglist, i deeply apologise
#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#danny ric#dr3#f1 fics#formula 1 x you#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo au
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Dawn
THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, PRINCE'S ORDERS (nsfw tags under the cut)
(masterlist)
👑 pairing: exiled!prince!seonghwa x afab!reader
👑 genre: smut, fluff/angst, pwp but make it royaltycore
👑 summary: remember, remember this day, do remember, the treason and gunpowder plot. i see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot. as the preparations for a new era are complete, you find paradise and praise in the arms of the prince who had fallen, the prince who will be your king.
👑 wordcount: 6k
👑 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of 'sins', exile/royal family drama, revolution/uprising, muddled feelings, explicit mention of bombs, treason, park dynasty, royaltycore with modern elements, in love or in lust, lmk if anything else
👑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic
👑 a/n: it all started with a devious hwa smirk; @nebulousbrainsoup thank you for hyping over this with me <3 always, any reblogs appreciated. much love!
👑 nsfw tags: cunnilingus, overstim, teasing, pet names (love, darling...), begging, unprotected sex (wrap. it. up), creampie, nipple play (f receiving), implied aftercare
“It has been done,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the heavy cloak that adorned your frame. Despite being in a secluded chamber, you did not have the heart, at least not yet, to reveal your surprise, instead keeping discussion and action to strictly business.
Seonghwa’s eyes widened, as though he was visualising the impact of your unspeakable actions. A pang of fear struck your heart as you cast a glance at the flickering orange flame of the torch – currently, the sole source of light in the chamber that he had made his quarters and headquarters, given the timidness of the moon as it hid behind thick clouds. The ornate window stood dormant, reflecting the light and the fiery man. Prior stoicism and cool resolve evaporated, and he turned towards you. In the blink of an eye he was setting the maps of the kingdom and of the locations that served as bases of operation of the new regime down on the desk, and he could not hold back on anxious praise.
“How did you- but that was a risk- you, my angel… my sweet, precious angel you are changing the world, light of my life-” stopping you from picking at your cloak, he took one of your hands in his, lips ghosting over the knuckles. He pressed your hand against his chest, as though in a miniature embrace.
It was easy to see the relief in his features. The hints of dark circles under his eyes, the misery being replaced with a shining hope and a boyish vivacity – this was why you had abandoned your own morals in favour of his, convincing yourself that what you had done was ‘the right’, and that there was an objective evil in the world that just so happened to align with your specific target. It could be the case; it could be that because Seonghwa was your personal ‘right’ and was the path you never wanted to stray from, you could not care less for any other misdeeds. When his grip on you weakened, you moved your arm back, and placed both hands on his shoulders, pretending to smooth out the fabric of his perfectly tailored black coat.
Not much had changed in his heart for as long as you knew him. Seonghwa was always there for you, and even in the midst of the crumbling of the Park dynasty, he was the one to tell you that it was going to be alright. Despite being publicly labelled a traitor and having a witch hunt launched to find and execute him, he was here, standing before you, with a gentle smile on his face. You wondered what was unfolding and being formulated in his beautiful mind. What tears was he suppressing, what curses was he refining for the day that he would look the revolutionaries in the face and deliver the final blow to reclaim the royal title and the kingdom. Perhaps his shoulders had gotten broader, perhaps his hair had gotten longer, gaze sharper and the sword that he would wield in his hand more lethal and merciless, but he was the same Seonghwa to you. The same boy who you had played in the royal gardens with, the same young man with whom you had danced in the quietude of empty halls. You did not know anyone except him, and that was how you wanted your life to stay. So, when Seonghwa offhandedly mentioned a ‘mission’ that he was due to complete – a critical step in the leadup to the uprising by him and his loyal army, you did not just volunteer, you swore to dedicate yourself wholly to his plan and did not experience a single droplet of regret.
Perhaps he was your sin. Like some suffered from Pride, or Lust, or Sloth, you were a devotee to His Royal Highness, until your very downfall. And this is why no other act, no matter how devious, meant anything to you – it was merely a step in the direction towards securing your one certain joy in what was otherwise a bleak, barren dystopia. His eyes contained a universe, and that was more than enough for you, even if your days were numbered. This was ringing particularly true after the act you had committed, and the cause for which you stood. You were frozen in time, regarding Seonghwa with the adoration of a person parting ways with the world. As though he was your last breath of air and last ray of sun before it set for eternity. It appeared that this dismissal of your internal turmoil did not go unnoticed, and the prince was quick to reach for your arms, pulling them down so that your fingers could intertwine.
“You mustn’t look back alone. It is a chasm,” he began, studying you. A bitter smile graced your lips as you bit back the long-chronic worries you possessed due to his unwavering kindness. Your precious little prince. You squeezed his hands, mumbling:
“What use is there in focusing on the past anyways, right?” when you sensed suspicion, you elaborated, “the future is bound to be brighter? Isn’t that right, sweet star of mine?”
An overwhelming pause. The question was meant to be rhetorical, potentially comedic, and yet it left a tinge of sourness. Nothing was for certain, even though you carried everything out to a tee and disappeared from the party-occupied castle unnoticed thanks to your knowledge of secret passages that ran between rooms and underground. Seonghwa’s voice accompanied you as you planted detonators, deafening devices and something one of the prince’s followers had kindly dubbed a ‘sleeping mist’ in predetermined locations. Turn, leave, you could do it, you were strong, there was reason behind your actions. Evidence of this was behind the elegantly dressed, albeit emotionally worn-down man. The maps – a myriad of scriptures, plans, strategies; some doomed to fail, others a brave but evaluated risk.
“Mm… that’s right,” you did not want to believe that it was a lie, so you settled on indulging in his deep timbre, tone so mellifluous that you wanted for it to be the only thing you could ever hear, “just you wait, the future is made for us. A world of ripest fruits for us to reap, for us alone…”
He moved once more, letting go of you. You could guess his musings almost word for word – a little planet. Starry night sky. Having the luxury of knowing what would happen when, so he would know when he could see you again, and you did not have to turn into a creature of darkness to creep inside the shadows to his hideout for a few hours, only to risk yourself all over again afterwards. Freedom and utopia were his forbidden fruit – an eternal temptation explicit in his gorgeous irises.
He was a dreamer with very consistent and persistent fantasies, as well as an eloquent way of feeding them into your soul with such finesse that with time you almost always considered any thought to be your own in its origins. Both the little prince and the serpent, Seonghwa was your definition of the world. He had given you a lens through which to see everything. Including him. To you, he was the definition of perfect. A fallen angel more than deserving to return to the heavens. He was outcast by evil, afterall.
Your body acted on its own accord, stepping back to give yourself at least some room to breathe, but you should have known better than to expect such a thing to happen in Seonghwa’s presence. He caught you - a long time ago. Unreadable expressions graced him as he hooked you back in with the slightest tug at the dark formless material hanging over your body.
“Did it take you long? Were you in danger?” he asked, spotting the absence of the pouch that had carried the discreet explosive animatronics for your distribution.
“N-no. Not at all. They did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I did not try to improvise outside of your instruction.”
“Good. More than good,” it was as if he was talking to himself, undoubtedly reviewing the preparations, now accounting for the success of a major element of the operation. “I wonder if anyone would be able to spot the butterflies prematurely. Would the alarm be rung then? Would we-”
“Are you doubting my skills to hide the tech, Your Highness?” you jest, imitating frustration.
“Hm, no. I think I am merely excited for what is to come. We’ve been preparing night…” he sneaked a glance at your neck, trying to guess what you were hiding under black wool, “...and day. I want to see it all come to life, and have you with me.”
With him - that was all you could hear. You were not one for bloodshed, however given the possibility of redemption, it was appealing. You did your part for him, and he was proud. Now, you could close your eyes. Something in the way Seonghwa approached you was akin to the way a predator follows an unsuspecting beast in a grove. Eyes that were neither hostile nor forgiving, foresight so powerful that he was confident you would never leave. The two of you had too much history, too many memories from which detangling oneself would be virtually impossible. You tried, however your attempts had been in vain. When you had first caught the rumours of exile flying around the castle, and then the extensive discussions about familial rivalry and planned ‘changes of crown’ to fit a new ideology, you tried to get away deeming the path of ignorance safer. All it took was one whisper of your name to vow that if Seonghwa were to be sent to hell, you would loyally follow him there. Should he be executed, you would weep at his side and depart with him, heart already in a million pieces. You were irrevocably, foolishly in love with Park Seonghwa, the former prince of Aurora, willing to settle for being a favourite pawn, should he want you to be one. But even that title you would never be able to fish out of him. Forever enigmatic, you were never confident in assuming you were his only star despite the sweet nothings and the adoring gazes, but even if you were part of a big universe for this ambitious, high and mighty man, you did not mind. No one could fight against power. No one could fight against the greed for supremacy.
He was so close. An angel glowing in the torch light. The gold and red detail on his clothing turned to holy markings in his grace. You were stunned, a pliable doll in his arms, entranced by his slowed blinking as the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. There was always reason to reward you and your undying commitment to his cause. A token of appreciation, some could say. Seonghwa could also retain some form of humanity and call it for what it was - a long-standing obsession, but given who he wanted to become, he needed to contain himself and possess at least a sliver of civility before inevitably breaking apart for you, and only you.
“Thank you, Y/N,” music to your ears, the final straw before your internal chaos overwhelmed you and you had to hold on to Seonghwa’s voice for guidance. Your reaction was easy to detect, as the prince moved to have his fingers just barely touch your face.
”So… so beautiful, my love,” his hand traced your jawline, pausing when a shudder passed over your body. Seonghwa chuckled, admiring how responsive you were, how attuned you were to him despite remaining mostly unperturbed by the world that surrounded you.
There was something spectacular in how you carried yourself – feigned obliviousness, a façade of perfect innocence that had been the main reason for your survival under the new regime. Pretty precious little bird that knew how to keep quiet, and in turn were destined to sing the loudest when the time would come. Your eyes, widened as you devoured him, were enchanting pools that he would not hesitate to dive into and drown. Perhaps one could argue that no one liked a dead man, but Seonghwa was one of the lucky ones; your taboo rendezvous were evidence enough that you did not mind a character in your life who was as good as a ghost.
Your slightly parted lips, rosy, moistened by the darting of your delicate, delectable tongue were a sinful fruit that he desired to own. Running a thumb over your lower lip, the sparks of an uncontrollable lust burst in his chest, tainting his bloodstream like the most potent wine. He could see the edges of your dress under the black cloak that you used to move undetected in the night. To visit him, of all people. To risk your life for him and him alone. For him to be the only one who could even spot the royal crimson fabric underneath – a material tailors would fight over, material that he had gifted to you once upon a time despite barely having any network whilst in the chasm of being an outlaw, a traitor of the state. Enemy number one, who had made it a mission to dress you up. He did not regret a thing. Not when you gasped as he toyed with the clasp of the cloak. Not when he felt your hands land right above his heart, fingers toying with the leather harness and golden embroidery of his long military coat - another echo of the past that he would never be able to shed away. In addition, as the days approaching the uprising were being reduced to nil, he could not help but be drawn to the fine material as a form of mockery. He wanted those who have wronged him to see themselves in his form, to hear him have the final laugh.
Muscles tensing under your fluttering caresses, Seonghwa was giving into a domineering restlessness. Unhooking the clasp, he admired the way the black fabric pooled around you, as though the night sky was bowing before your grace. He tried to catch his breath, but it proved to be impossible as the dress occupied his vision. Nothing remained, only your impeccable handiwork, the perfection that was the fit of the garment on your body. You were supreme, the symbol of victory and glory. Clad in red, he saw the future in your form, both in spirit and in the battle cries that would accompany the painting of the lands in the colour of the wondrous silk.
You retracted your hands, and almost regretted it when you heard Seonghwa’s staggered inhale. He was looking you up and down, memorising every detail, undoubtedly thinking of anything and everything that he could do to you, or what you could do to him. Despite the urge to act, to step towards him and greedily steal away what he had left of precious oxygen, you did what you did best, and batted your eyelashes, pretending to be unaware. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in trepidation to accept the guilt of inducing a small death. Serial murder, unforgivable, manic, addictive, reviving.
“I-“ he tried to form a sentence but it seemed as though every word he could think of wilted before escaping his throat.
Darkened irises darting back and forth, in awe of you – your favourite sight. You could not help but to reach out to him, moving to push an escaping tiny strand of inky hair from his stunning, timeless face. Fingers inadvertently ran further, carding through the slicked back locks and tempting Seonghwa to come closer. Biting his lower lip, he stepped closer to you, hands finding purchase on your hips and giving them a warning squeeze. You tugged lightly, making his previously lowered head rise to face you directly. You could see nothing in his eyes except what you yourself could reflect. The most beautiful and inextinguishable hellfire.
“You have good taste, Seonghwa,” you smiled softly, though the action was clouded over with a deeper intent.
“I am blessed to say I have a muse,” snaking over to your waist, you were suddenly being pulled into a yearning embrace. His racing heart reverberated and echoed in your body, the rising heat of his thighs and hips against yours grew ever more prominent. Seonghwa occupied your every sense, making you forget where you were, when, and what the consequences of your star-crossed union could be.
“Mm is that so?” you suppressed a giggle, brushing his wavy tresses back once more, while your other hand on the side of his face. You could feel him lean into the touch, eyes shutting for a moment before meeting yours once more.
It was in such moments that you found you knew Seonghwa best. Uninhibited and entirely himself, he bared his soul to you in every glance and longing grasp of cloth or exposed skin. Stars in his deep mahogany orbs, the exiled prince was silently asking you for permission. For what? You were about to find out; not once did you not trust him enough to let go of your inner voice and soar into pleasure – those who plotted uprisings together, were meant to be bound together, body and mind. It did not take long before Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, intoxicating, the pace of your elaborate dance so dizzyingly slow that a minute more and you would be the one clawing for more. Overwhelming, he pressed himself against you, and you could only hold on tight, thanking every deity who could unabashedly observe your physical confession for the existence of such moments in your life.
Fingers digging into his scalp, you evoked a muffled groan from your royal lover, who nipped at your lower lip and tentatively ran over it with his tongue, asking for access. Who were you to not oblige, especially when he asked so nicely? In no time, he dipped into a deeper kiss, exploring you, memorising you all over again as though you did not visit him both when he was awake and in his dreams. He was feverish, erratic, his plush reddened lips were leaving trails over your cheeks, the crook right before your shoulder and moved back to evoke a quiet moan out of you by paying special attention to the sensitive spots on your neck.
The red dress was a rose, a promise, divine dedication to him - the same material as that of his own clothes, the colour of the details on the coat which in a joint effort you and him were practically ripping away - the body harness already long gone, to reveal a flowing black shirt. Resting your arms on his strong shoulders you gave into every sensation, fingers instinctively finding their place carding through his locks, you followed his lead and stumbled backwards until an unexpected fabric hit the back of your head, making you gasp into another kiss. With a low growl and unprecedented annoyance, Seonghwa pushed the curtain that served as a divider between the office and meeting area of his chambers and the segment he used as his bedroom. Not quite the same as what his quarters used to be in the castle, but thanks to his military precision and tidiness, went above and beyond what one would expect from a rebel hellbent on chaos.
It was dizzying - his hands travelling across your body, his hot breath against your skin as he battled the same dress he had implored you to craft and wear, his simultaneously sultry and threatening glare that immediately subdued you as soon as you tried to remove yourself from him to help. No words, only a muted command, and in a matter of moments, you felt a coldness crawl up your spine as Seonghwa expertly undid the buttons on your dress. Goosebumps involuntarily appeared on your skin, erased by your lover’s quick hand.
“Is my darling cold?” he rubbed your back, the intensity and affection forming a combination excruciating for your heart. You shook your head, not wanting for him to worry, though the decision resulted in quite the opposite, “You know it is not good to lie, right?”
“I’m sorry-”
“I suppose it is a little… these damned stone walls. Sorry, love, this is far from welcoming.”
“No, please don’t worry…”
“Mm. Then stop me from worrying. Are you cold?”
You were burning up. The contrast between your flesh and the air was stark, and you bit your lower lip in an attempt to suppress another shudder. Seonghwa stepped forward, making your knees buckle as your lower legs hit the edge of the bed. He let you sit, though himself remained hovering above you, casting a shadow. You turned and studied anything and everything in your immediate surroundings, a wave of embarrassment washing over you despite having been with him so many times before. You stopped at the coat that was lying discarded on the floor. The brooches and badges, marking his titles - or at least past titles, in the Royal Military, glistened and induced a pang of anxiety. Were you living in an illusion by hoping for the past to return? A hand under your chin returned you to the present, and your misty eyes were forced to meet Seonghwa. What was a vexed, darkened expression melted away, revealing a tinge of concern uncharacteristic of his regal image.
“Talk to me,” crouching down to your level, you felt blush rising on your cheeks.
“...A bit…”
“There, see. Easy. Now, do you trust me?”
“Wholeheartedly.”
“So, burn with me, my love,” purposefully implying, he gave space. But if he was the flame, then you were the air, quickly disintegrating as the orange and red blaze consumed the vital essence. You had no chance, or choice, your only answer was his name, repeated over and over and over again until you knew nothing else.
--
Every single one of your senses was consumed by him and the near unbearable warmth shared between two bodies connected under heavy sheets. Brain turned to cotton, much like the blanket that was currently muffling your cries of pleasure, you were being kept from writhing only by Seonghwa’s iron grip. Thighs pinned to your upper body, he had you folded in half as he licked strips up your soaked folds, toying with your abused clit before sliding his tongue deeper, relishing in how your walls clenched around him, begging for more. Pathetic whines were music to his ears, prompting him to move until his nose was almost pressed against the overstimulated bundle of nerves and he could relentlessly fuck into you.
Addicted to the scent and taste of your arousal, he was not giving you any room to breathe, nor to recover from your first orgasm, and instead launched directly into building you up for another. You were a masterpiece, giving up to salacious ecstasy for him so easily, adoring words spilling out of you even though you were barely capable of constructing a proper sentence. The sheer notion of having such impressive power, and you giving up ownership of your personal euphoria to him made him want to stay in this position together.
“Mine-” he muttered, barely audible as he coated his tongue in your nectar and rolled it over your clit.
You yelped and threw your head back as a sensation resembling an electric shock hurried through you. Grasping at the bedsheets until your knuckles were turning white, the last image of your lover before he immersed you in artificial darkness was haunting you - his devilish smirk when you shyly nodded in agreement, his virtually lewd scrutiny as he studied your reactions to him ridding you of the dress, to him immediately disposing of your bra, and to him playing with your thin panties, occasionally dipping into your dripping heat to tease you. And then, when he deemed you ready enough, you were in a world where nothing and no one existed except Seonghwa.
The knot that was building in your core was ready to snap at any moment. You could not breathe. You were seeing stars and you were mewling for Seonghwa despite him being right there between your legs, taking you apart. Sensing your oncoming climax, your prince braved letting go of one of your quivering thighs in favour of pressing down on both with one arm, while the other landed directly on your bud, fingers masterfully flicking it while he curled into your hole, pulsating motion inciting wanton squelching from your heat, amplified by the confined space under the duvet.
“Hwa- I-” the nickname spilled out of your mouth by accident, though it seemed that the prince did not mind. Instead he hummed and sped up once more, only to send you over the edge.
Lapping up your release, he guided you through your high and greeted you on your way down, his hands acting as a stabilising force that kept your shaking limbs, and you safe. Seonghwa nipped at your inner thighs, exhaling sharply in amusement when upon teasingly dragging a finger across your pussy you gasped, thighs instinctively trying to bring themselves together. But your lover was quicker than that, lifting himself up until he was hovering over your fragile frame with a knee pressed against your heat. The sheets slid down his form, stopping just past the middle of his back - enough to reveal the glistening orgasm on his face, his half lidded eyes and parted, gorgeous lips. He flicked his tongue - a habit occasionally turned into intentional provocation. Pupils blown, expression animalistic, ravenous, he needed more. To bear the scalding hot oasis that you shared, he had torn off his clothing. Though now, he could no longer bear the aching of his erection that was rubbing against your stomach, rapidly coating it in pearly translucent beads of precum. Hips moving on their own accord, he started to rut against you to gain at least some form of friction.
“Still hmph- cold?” he asked, unfiltered mockery clear in his voice.
“Please, Seonghwa- need you in-”
“So fucked out you can’t even - ah, answer my question?” he cut you off, keeping the teasing demeanour all the while his dick was throbbing painfully against you, “I s-said, a-are you cold? Finally catching on, you agreed with him.
“Yes, I… need more. Please,”
“How do you need more, my greedy darling? Hm?” stopping his rocking, he took to rolling one of your hard nipples between his fingers, taking in your every breath, sigh, and the rolling of the eyes as you felt a tug shoot straight to your core.
“-want you to fuck me,”
“Mhm-”
“-want your cock inside me-”
“Yes-”
“-want you to fill me up ple-”
“Say that again,” in less than a second, his nose was against yours and you were peering straight into his soul, finding an inexhaustible danger. His breathing had gotten considerably shallower, and you swore you felt his cock twitch.
“Fill me up, Hwa, I- please-”
“Since you asked so nicely,” he pushed your legs further apart before tapping you on your hip to adjust your positioning. Eagerly, you followed his request hissing at the sensation of his tip teasing your burning heat before Seonghwa bottomed out, the mixture of slick and precum offering a delicious glide.
He leaned forwards, his bare chest against yours as he shared your state of enchantment awestruck as the torchlight gave up its final battle, only to be replaced by the beginnings of a full moon. You were a goddess in blue and silver that gleamed around the thick curtain, your glassy eyes so innocently sharing feelings he had never dared to express openly that he could not help but plant one peck after another over your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally, the lips. The scalding friction of skin against skin started to resemble a prolonged embrace, and when Seonghwa slowly dragged his length against your clenching walls, he mused if in another life, you could be connected like this for all of eternity.
You offered him the true meaning of ‘unconditional’. You trusted him without a second thought, and were ready to throw away the stability you had within the castle walls in favour of a probability. Your optimism intrigued Seonghwa, and he knew he was in danger of falling in love. In fact, he had been this way since long before finding out his enemies were all beside him at the dinner table every evening, and that only in the most critical moments could he discover his real allies. If he were any more free of the burdens permanently clinging onto his shoulders, the prince would have confessed to you. For now, however, he had the freedom how you fell apart beneath him, so deliciously gullible, drunk in lust.
With each languid thrust into your weeping cunt, he was silently singing your praises, thanking you for every day that you had shared with him, for every night that you had proved that you did not abandon him. As he picked up the rhythm, your melodic pants and whines accentuated the lewd squelching and at the same time sent his mind into overdrive. He loved the time he had with you, the time when nothing existed except instinct and what he could only call a union written in the stars. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip as his pumping grew erratic and you tightened around him as you reached your high. He let out a whimper, vision impossibly blurry and growing darker as he could barely fight the weight of his eyelids. As he moaned your name, Seonghwa, accepted his violent addiction to your pleasure and your pain as you clambered for the remnants of your sanity in the midst of an overdriven climax. Thick ropes of cum coated your spongy walls and Seonghwa stilled his hips, unable to maintain even a frantic, stuttering pace any longer. Your arms collapsed to your sides, leaving behind marks where you had driven your nails into his perfectly tan skin. The fullness made you impossibly weak, and you fell back onto the pillows, taking Seonghwa with you. Having collapsed under the weight of ecstasy, your lover rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delectable scent of sex and desire.
The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the secluded chamber where Prince Seonghwa had found temporary solace and transformed it into the cradle of a new world to come. You, his loyal companion and confidante, or at least that was how you decisively wished to name yourself in the midst of uncertainty, nestled against him, your fingers intertwined. The weight of Seonghwa's destiny bore down on his shoulders, and the weight of you in his arms offered a fleeting respite.
Seonghwa's eyes traced the delicate features of your face, bathed in the gentle moonlight. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and determination. "I can no longer bear the burden of this false exile,” he was returning to the present, the only remnants of the beautifully turbulent night being his slightly swollen lips, gravelly voice and dishevelled sweaty hair which had just begun to curl. “The time has come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I just… I just hope it all comes together."
Your sleepy gaze met Seonghwa's, understanding and unwavering support evident even in the semi-darkness. "I'll stand by your side, Seonghwa, no matter the peril that awaits us. Together, we'll face the storm and emerge stronger.” It was easy to hope and easy to pass the tasks to the next person in the relay, so you wondered if your words held any meaning to your lover. When it was just the two of you, it was easy to worship the art of hedonism and forget impending doom. If only you could erase his own thoughts from his mind. Be selfish. With a soft shake of the head you dismiss the impending sourness, choosing instead to focus on the heavenly fatigue, like cotton, enveloping your and Seonghwa’s bodies.
As if drawn by an invisible force, Seonghwa pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of your connection was a stark contrast to the cold reality awaiting you outside the chamber walls. For a moment, you existed in your own sanctuary, shielded. The room echoed with the soft rustle of fabric as Seonghwa shifted to hold you even closer. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent reassurance that he cherished this stolen moment of peace. In the midst of the impending uprising, Seonghwa found a panacea in your arms, a haven that anchored him and convinced him that what he was doing was a necessary evil. You nestled into Seonghwa's chest, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat.
"Promise me we'll make it through this," You whispered, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Seonghwa's chest. You knew that no matter how he would answer, it would be hollow, for only fate could be aware and decide the outcome.
Seonghwa pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise, my love. We'll face the challenges together, and when the dust settles, we'll build a kingdom. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
“My queen.”
“Don’t say that…”
“Today, these are words. Tomorrow, the world can be ours,” you succumbed to his cruel hypnosis, not daring to ask for his methods, nor for his confessions. The less questions you asked Seonghwa, the happier you could pretend to be, and the grander was the castle in your sky.
The weight of your shared destiny hung heavily in the air, yet in the quiet cocoon of your embrace, the two of you had found your own religion. As the first light of dawn approached, you remained entwined, drawing strength from each other to face the tumultuous path that awaited you - a path that would lead you to a ferocious battle, deciding centuries to come in the timespan of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.
“Will I ever be forgiven?”
“Who is there to forgive you?” After some deliberation, you dared to query. In one reckless sweep, you ignited every shadow of hesitation, leaving you only with unconditional, pure love that would carry you through any hardship. The one thing you had left, unfortunately unbreakable.
In the faint light of the rising sun, crawling into the room and coating it in magnificent gold, the man who you so adored and was devoted to was in every form a soul condemned to eternal hellfire; you were fully aware of that. A tarnished being marked as dead before he could even begin to spread his wings. Feathers strewn across what used to be a kingdom meant for him to rule being the only remnant of the brutal betrayal. The devilishly handsome traitor or trailblazer sharing his bed with you was not supposed to exist. And yet, it was his voice, his touch, his scent that occupied your every pore and thought, the owner’s name being carved into you over and over again until you forgot the bigger picture, focusing only on what Seonghwa could envision and how you could achieve that priceless peaceful kingdom.
“Now that is a question I would be interested in figuring out the answer to…”
“Both of us are unforgivable. Cannot repent, cannot start again,” you turned to face him, captivated by the way the sun highlighted his features, “but we can go forward. Until the hands of time stop us.”
As the two of you drifted into a dreamless slumber - a luxury serving as a calm before the storm, you comforted yourself with the fact that in some sense, nothing was going to change just like the darkness that came with your dozing. One fallen leaf, or soldier, would replace another, one snowflake would twirl in pursuit of its partner, one Park would return his crown from the other. In the grand scheme of things, it was still the neverending winter, a late dawn, and the same dynasty, the embodiment of which you prayed was in your adoring and calculating embrace.
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bite me // jay (ENHYPEN)
pairing: knight!jay x princess!reader
genre: royalty!au, fantasy, smut (minors dni) // warning: profanity, mentions of death, unprotected sex, a lot of biting // wc: ~6k
summary: a knight stumbles upon your castle, and unlike anyone you have encountered before, this young man seems to have a scent that you somehow cannot resist.
author’s note: I'm going to be quite honest with you, this fic is long overdue. I planned on releasing it BEFORE enhypen's comeback, since the idea came after I watched their mini-movie where Jay literally got his neck bitten by the actress but moods come and go, ideas appear and fade, so here you go.
initially it was also inspired by their concept pics, the Full ver. of their Dark Blood album, and I also thought of an alternate version (where Jay is the castle resider instead and y/n is the traveler/knight, let me know if that's something you might be interested in).
warning, though, this one might feel a little choppy, a bit hasty, and all over the place. my excuse is that I am drunk in love with Jay, and I take full responsibility.
no taglist this time, I shall let people find this fic on their own.
if you're here, congratulations and welcome! hope you can enjoy this one too.
When Jay heard the words ‘isolated castle’, he was expecting a huge building made of gray bricks with several towers that scraped the sky, sitting in the middle of an endless sea of sand with no roads connected to it. He pictured the sun shining mercilessly on whoever was standing under its light, and he was slightly worried about finding a source of water, as well as food.
Yet here he was, standing on top of a plush bed of grass, staring at the stone path that led to the castle in front of him. It was made of bricks, yes, but they were in the shade of copper, a warm and inviting kind of brown. The castle had no tower, or none that he could see so far, but it stood tall and mighty despite being surrounded by luscious greens and equally tall trees.
Jay reached for the worn-out map in his satchel, but as he stretched his arm, he winced from the sharp stinging pain that he had been feeling since hours ago. He did not know exactly when or how he injured himself—maybe he slept wrong, or maybe he used his hand wrong, or maybe it was just destined for everything to go wrong—but he was sure he had arrived at his destination.
During his years of training to become a knight, Jay had read countless tales, not minding if they were fact or fiction, and he had gained enough knowledge to go on a lot of missions alone. The townspeople were very supportive of him, as it was expected that the men in each family each take a role that was beneficial for the kingdom.
Fortunately, since he managed to capture the attention of the princess, Jay was soon handpicked by the king and queen to become their future son-in-law. When they found out that he was a knight, though, they became quite concerned with the tasks and duties that he had to perform. Eventually, Jay had to promise them he would not die no matter what, and it was a tough one to keep.
As happens in every other kingdom, it was customary for a member of the royal family to request an item as a form of dowry. Since Jay was not exactly born into royalty, he was given a task that would get the princess her dowry as well as prove Jay’s aptitude as a knight.
To retrieve the lost diadem of the Panthera onca.
The sound of his metal boots clinking against the rocky path made the resident of the castle open the doors before he could even reach them. You stood in front of him, and he thought your figure was unlike anyone he had seen before. To start, you were glowing. For some reason, the sunlight shined on your slightly tan skin, and it did not help that the outfit you were wearing was made of a sheer fabric that showed a bit of your curves and more of your skin. Second, you were—
“Are you alright?”
Your voice started ringing in Jay’s ears, and he realized how parched he felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal, or a sip of water, and the sprain in his arm from falling off his horse was not the only injury that he had. Jay reached his hand up to take off his headgear, and his slightly long hair fell immediately to cover his forehead.
“I,” he began, “I need water.”
And then everything went pitch black.
---
Jay woke up to the sound of birds outside the window, and he instantly noticed that he was lying down in bed. His heavy armor was long gone from his body, and he was only wearing the undergarments he came with. He started backtracking, trying to remember what happened, but then he heard water splashing, so he hopped off the bed and headed directly for the window.
The same woman who opened the castle doors for him was taking a dip in one of the most lavish pools he had ever seen. It was not like Jay had never been to a castle before, but something about this place seemed magical and just so different. He watched as you took laps in the water, and when you emerged out of it, you brushed your hair back as you looked up, and if he did not step away from the window, you would have caught him staring.
Jay sat back on the bed and began to think. Did you undress him? Did you tend to his wounds? Did you carry him up to the second floor by yourself? Are you alone in this castle?
He heard a couple of knocks on his door, and he flinched in his seat. “Come in?” he said timidly.
You pushed the door open and walked in with your hair half-wet, and you were wearing a different gown than before. You were holding a tray that had little trinkets that were supposed to help you with treating Jay’s injury. As you walked up to him, Jay pulled his feet up to the bed and scooted further until his back was against the headboard.
“It’s time to dress your wounds,” you sighed, looking down and avoiding eye contact. “Can you do it alone?”
“I have so many questions right now,” Jay said in a hushed voice as he watched your hands place the tray on top of the bed.
“I’m sure you do,” you replied, scrunching your nose and looking away. “I have to attend to something else, so please.”
You pushed the tray slightly towards Jay and looked at him for a split second before you broke eye contact again. Jay frowned as his eyes followed your movements, and when you disappeared behind the door, he let out a huge sigh that he had been holding in.
The questions he had in his mind multiplied, and he was determined to find the answers soon.
---
Jay had fallen asleep again, and when he woke up this time it was almost dark outside. The faint light of the sun entered his room through the window, and just as he was adjusting his eyes, he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said, with more confidence this time.
You had changed into yet another gown and your hair was up in a bun. The tray you were carrying had healing herbs and a plate filled with mashed potatoes and other roasted vegetables. When you tried to put the tray on Jay’s bed, he reached out for it and accidentally brushed his hands with yours as he took it away from you.
“Sorry, I,” Jay’s voice hung in the air as he noticed you take a few steps back with unnecessary haste, “I must be bothering you. You don’t have to bring food here.”
“Oh, I have to,” you replied. “There is nowhere else for you to eat.”
“You mean there is no dining room?” Jay asked, setting the tray in front of him.
“There is, but we don’t use it.”
“We?” Jay asked again, seemingly intrigued. “So, there are other people in this castle?”
“Not at this hour,” you shook your head slowly before looking at him. “I just meant myself. And since you are here, we.”
Jay could not help but notice the way you would scrunch your nose once in a while after talking to him as if you had smelled something foul or your nose was itchy. He began sniffing himself out of self-cautiousness, and when he did not find anything wrong, he became even more confused.
“I suggest you stay for another fortnight,” you continued. Your eyes were set on the left side of his waist, and you tilted your chin pointing to that area. “Your wound has to heal completely.”
“Right, about that,” Jay sat up straight and pulled his top up.
You blinked and immediately looked the other way, not wanting to stare at his bare body. Jay noticed your behavior and smirked to himself.
“I actually can’t reach this part very well since I sprained my arm too,” he said, pointing to his side. “I mean, I could, but it’s quite painful.”
You sighed heavily before licking your lips, and you thought it would be easier to get it done as quickly as possible. You grabbed the chair that faced the vanity and sat it beside Jay’s bed. You reached for the herbs and kept your eye around Jay’s wound, trying your best not to look up into his eyes.
“Are you a princess?” Jay asked carefully, keeping his eyes on you.
You nodded as you cleaned the edges of Jay’s wound, dabbing his skin with a damp cloth.
“Then why are you in this castle alone, Your Highness?” he asked again, adjusting his position, and pulling his top higher.
You paused to look at him for a while, but you managed to avoid his eyes. “It’s a long story,” you finally replied.
“I am a good listener,” Jay said, smiling at you.
You looked out the window and noticed that the sun was almost gone, so you sped up the process and in turn made Jay flustered. The movements of your hands became hasty, and you were sure you pressed on his wound a little too hard because you heard him hiss, but you knew you had to leave the room as soon as you were done.
“Eat your dinner and rest up,” you said as you stood up, wiping your hands with a cloth and brushing the skirt of your gown down. “I will see you in the morning.”
“Your Highness…”
The door slammed behind you and Jay was too shocked to even form a proper reaction.
“…I don’t even know your name,” he murmured to himself, staring blankly at the door and then at the food you had served him.
---
Jay woke up the next morning to the sound of a horse neighing. He recognized it and immediately jumped out of bed, making his way to the window as he winced in pain at the sudden movement of his arms. He spotted you in the courtyard with three other people he had never seen before, and since he was already feeling better, he decided to approach you.
When Jay entered the courtyard, you were stepping away from the horse, letting the castle’s servants tend to it instead since you figured it grew uneasy around your presence. As you took a couple steps back, though, you felt a pair of hands hovering over your shoulder.
“Whoa,” Jay said in a low voice. “Careful, Princess.”
You turned around and stood straight, nodding your head slightly to greet your guest.
“We found him in the woods this morning,” you explained without waiting for Jay to ask. “I assume he is yours.”
“Thank you,” Jay replied, already approaching his horse. In an instant, the black beast calmed down. “His name is Shadow.”
You nodded and observed the way Jay patted his horse, speaking to him in a calm manner and handling him in the gentlest way you had ever seen a man treating an animal. For a second, you witnessed the way the color of Jay’s face shifted, and you saw him as a commoner with a huge love for creatures instead of a wounded knight.
“Well,” you cleared your throat, breaking your own distraction. “I suppose you can handle him now. I’ll have my people take care of him too.”
Your castle staff hovered around you and spoke to you in whispers, and you responded to them in a similar way, stealing glances at Jay. When you noticed him glancing back at you, you turned around and started walking away with your staff.
“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Jay spoke to Shadow. “You’re usually friendly to strangers. Pretty princesses too, mostly.”
Shadow snorted as he shook his head, almost hitting Jay in the face with his long mane.
---
As the hours went by, you tried your best to keep a distance from the knight in your castle. Every time Jay asked you a question, you would answer accordingly, trying not to give out too much information. After all, he was a stranger in your place, and you always had your walls up when it comes to protecting yourself.
It wasn’t until Jay revealed the reason he was out and about around your castle’s ground that you became instantly defensive. You were tending to his wounds and scars, the last of them, and once he mentioned the lost diadem, you let go of the cloth in your hands, letting it fall to the floor.
“You’re looking for the diadem?” You asked, not because you didn’t hear him the first time, but because you needed confirmation.
“Do you know where it is?” He asked back, eyes looking at yours full of hope.
You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be looking for it. Many men have died trying to possess it. It wouldn’t be any different this time.”
Jay frowned and almost chuckled. “So, you do know about it? I’m sure if you tell me, I can give it a—”
You snatched the tray away from his bed, your feet scurrying to leave his room as fast as you could. Jay’s mouth hung open as he watched you leave, and he was too stunned to do anything else.
That night, Jay realized he must have made a huge mistake. The distance you put between you and him became bigger, and you had tasked your staff to tend to his wounds and bring him his food instead of coming over yourself. This went on for days, and as much as Jay tried to ask your staff about you, he would receive no valuable information.
One night, Jay decided to take matters into his own hands. He had memorized the staff’s schedule, down to the hour that they would come to his room, so he picked a clear slot in the middle of the night to sneak out, determined to find you. Jay was clearly gifted with cat feet since his movements were barely audible, and as he searched through almost the whole castle, he finally heard some noise coming out of what seemed to be the largest room in the building.
He heard what sounded like a purr, and it was so loud that he could almost feel the walls vibrate. Jay pressed his body to the wall, making zero noise as he craned his neck to peek through the open window.
Jay saw you sleeping on the bed in a curled position. He knew it was you since the bedroom looked royal and you were the only person of royalty in this castle, but he had to do a double take.
You were curled up, indeed, but as he adjusted his eyes to the dark, he saw you lifting up your head and yawning.
Except it wasn’t your head. It was the head of a jaguar.
Jay squinted his eyes as his mind tried to make sense of what he was witnessing. You had the head of a jaguar and the paws of one, but your body remained the same. With a hitched breath, Jay leaned back on the wall and shook his head, thinking he was dreaming. He then decided to look a second time and to his surprise, you were already standing by the window.
“Fuck!” Jay shouted, stumbling back and falling to the ground.
You growled at him, keeping your yellow eyes focused on his figure. Jay managed to regulate his breathing and brushed the grass off his thighs before standing up again.
“Princess?” Jay asked, unsure. “Is that you?”
Jay took a step closer to you and you hissed, pulling the curtains down to cover the whole window before your shadow disappeared into the darkness.
---
When Jay woke up in the morning, he thought he had an elaborate and odd dream. He was hoping so, but then he heard a knock on the door before one of your staff opened it and peeked inside.
“The princess is expecting you, Sir,” he said. “At the dining room.”
Jay sat up and massaged his temple before responding. “She wants to see me?”
The man nodded once and was about to leave when Jay cleared his throat.
“Do you know what happens to the princess at night?” Jay asked with a raspy voice. He looked at the man, expecting an immediate answer.
“We all do, Sir.”
Jay sat on his bed as he gathered his thoughts, as well as his strength before he stood up and dressed to go see you. He was determined to find out what this was all about, and he decided to just ask you directly this time, no matter how forward it might seem.
At the dining table, though, all Jay could do was stare at the breakfast plate in front of him. He looked to your side and saw that you only had a glass of water. Jay cleared his throat before picking up a fork and starting a conversation.
“Are you not hungry?” He asked, looking at you warily.
“I already hunted last night,” you answered calmly, toying with your bronze cup of water.
Hunted, he thought. So he was not dreaming.
“I’m sure you have questions,” you continued. “And since you already know…”
“What happened to you, Princess?”
You were not expecting Jay to shoot a question as suddenly as he did, so you almost choked on your own words.
“You’re a knight,” you smiled softly. “You must know a lot of tales. Evil witches. Desperate kings and queens. Cursed princesses. I’m just one of them.”
“But what happened?” Jay asked again, completely abandoning his breakfast.
“It doesn’t matter,” you answered, resting both your hands on the dining table.
“Is that why you avoid me during the night?” Jay continued.
You nodded.
“And is that why you have your staff around only during the day?”
You nodded again.
“You’ve been keeping your distance from me, Princess,” Jay said with a desperate sigh. “Is it because I’m a stranger?”
This time you shook your head. “No.”
“Then, why—”
“It’s because of your scent.”
Jay paused and for a while, you thought he had turned into a statue. “I’m sorry?” He finally responded.
“You have a distinctive scent that makes me…”
Your sentence hung in the air and Jay realized you were choosing the appropriate words to voice your thoughts.
“I don’t feed on humans,” you resumed, “and I would like to keep it that way.”
Is she saying I smell like an animal? Jay thought to himself.
“But if it’s a curse,” Jay spoke again, deciding to shift the topic, “how can it be broken?”
You chuckled to yourself, and Jay swore he had just witnessed the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life.
“What’s the most cliché thing you can think of?” You asked back before patiently waiting for an answer.
“A kiss?” Jay answered in a tone that sounded more like a question.
You snorted and looked away. “The curse can only be broken if someone sincerely falls in love with me. I bet you can imagine how hard that would be.”
Jay took your answer and started backtracking everything in his mind—from the moment he arrived at your castle, to the way you tended to his wounds and took care of him in every way despite keeping your distance. He wondered if you had done the same thing to other knights or travelers who had stumbled upon your castle.
“I was actually hoping I could keep this hidden from you until your time is up,” you said after noticing he had been silent for too long. “Tomorrow, it will be a fortnight since you came here. I was told that you’re perfectly healed, so you can leave as soon as you want.”
Jay followed your movements as you stood up from your seat, pushing it back before you walked over to a shelf on the other side of the room. You pulled open the lowest drawer and took out a headpiece decorated in the most exquisite set of emeralds and diamonds.
“The diadem you’re looking for,” you said, bringing it to him. “Take it with you.”
You waited for Jay to take the diadem out of your hands, but he just stared at it.
“Sir?” You asked, shaking the diadem a little in front of his eyes.
“You said,” Jay began and licked his lips, “you said many men have died trying to possess it. You told me to forget about it.”
“That was because most of those men tried to take it by force. It did not end well. You were a nice guest, well, most of the time if you weren’t lurking around the castle. My staff also told me how kind you are to them.”
Jay tilted his head. “Let me get this right,” he said, “you’re giving the diadem to me just like that because I’m… nice?”
“Also, because I want you to leave.”
For some reason, your statement felt like it stung his heart.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You already told me your story. I’m helping a knight achieve his goal.”
You set the diadem beside Jay’s plate and started walking towards the door.
“I’ll have my staff ready your horse for tomorrow,” you said without looking back. “Live well, dear knight.”
Jay had lost count of the many times you left him alone in a room during his stay in your castle. However, unlike the previous times where all he felt was mostly confusion, this time it hurt.
---
It had been days or maybe weeks since Jay left your castle, and although you had grown accustomed to his absence, you could not deny that at times you missed his presence. It was not like you had spent a lot of time together, but you heard from your staff how Jay would behave, how he would treat everyone with kindness and respect, and how gentle he was when it came to animals and plants.
He was unlike any other knight you had met before, but that made him the most dangerous.
Jay did not know that every time you came into his room and caught a whiff of his scent, your eyes glinted in hunger. He was not aware of how hard you were keeping your thoughts to yourself, and he definitely was not aware of how you started to confuse your thoughts with your feelings, thinking that he might be the one who could lift your curse.
The single dream you had was then shattered as quickly as it was built. When you found out that he needed the diadem as a present for his betrothed, you threw all your hope out the window. You wanted to stay civil, though, and you figured that the best way to not act up in front of him was to just stay away from him.
Therefore, you were stunned to find him again on your doorstep this evening. It was almost sunset, and you began to observe his figure under the yellow light. He looked better, healthier, and there was this glow on his face that made him even more handsome.
“Princess,” he greeted you, smiling.
Your eyebrows were furrowed, and your eyes focused on the item in his hand. Your diadem.
“I believe it would be unfair for me to take what is rightfully yours,” Jay said, slightly lifting the diadem.
“What are you doing?” You asked. It was the only thing that came out of your mouth.
“I came back because,” Jay paused, “I want to ask you to marry me.”
You had experienced many odd encounters in your life, but this had to be one of the most bizarre ones.
“This is a sick joke,” you retorted before turning away from him.
“Princess, wait!”
You rushed back into the castle, heading into your room since you knew you were going to change soon. You did not want to end the surprise meeting badly, and your mind was too clouded that you did not notice your staff scurrying back into their chambers, completely ignoring that a knight was chasing after you.
As you finally reached the door to your bedroom, you pushed it open and entered before you slammed it shut. However, you did not hear the door close and when you turned around, Jay was holding it open.
“Please,” Jay begged, looking at you desperately.
You were about to scream at him, but words would not come out, and instead, your voice turned into raspy growls and hisses. Jay let himself inside and closed the door behind him as he witnessed your transformation, and once you were in your jaguar form you jumped onto your bed, trying to get as farther away from him as you could.
“It’s okay,” Jay said, calmly making his way towards you. “You’re okay.”
Jay reached out his hand to your snout and you looked away, sniffing and resting your head on a pillow. It did not deter him, and he even moved closer and made himself comfortable on your bed before placing a hand gently on top of your head.
“It will be okay,” Jay spoke again in a lower tone, a voice of reassurance.
As you felt Jay gently stroking your head, he saw a single tear trickle down your nose. You were gritting your teeth while forcing your eyes closed, trying to block any bestial urges that might arise.
---
You woke up with your head on top of Jay’s chest, and the way his chest moved up and down with every breath he took made you gather your senses in a faster manner than usual. You realized he had spent the night with you in your room, and you also remembered how you starved yourself the whole night just so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt him.
You quickly came to the conclusion that a relationship with him would never work, and you began to taint your own thoughts by assuming that he came back to tame you, not because he loved you, and that he only saw you as another quest in his life as a knight. With that, you decided to leave the castle before he wakes up, hoping that if you leave him for long enough, he will yield and return to his kingdom.
Unfortunately, after stumbling upon Shadow in the woods, you were forced to return home, with the horse surprisingly following you in a calm manner as if he knew he was there to serve a purpose. You were worried sick, partly because it was only hours left until sunset and also because there was no other way Jay would leave your castle unless his horse was with him. Sure enough, Jay was waiting for your return and his face lit up the second he saw you approaching the grounds with Shadow beside you.
“You need to leave,” you said, handing over Shadow’s lead line to Jay.
You went inside and after a short while, you thought you were safe and that Jay had left, but once again he tailed you right until you reached your chambers, and by that point, you were too exhausted to drive him away.
“My family disowned me,” you began, not bothering to give any preceding context. “I’m not worthy of marrying you.”
“Princess,” Jay scoffed before he licked his lips. “I’m not even royalty.”
“I can’t stand the thought of holding myself back when you’re around,” you continued, covering your mouth with both your hands. “It will never work.”
Jay stood by your bed as you sat on its edge, looking down and resting your elbows on your thighs as you continued to cover your mouth.
“Bite me.”
You frowned and lifted your head from your hands. “What?”
“All you need to do is to get used to my scent,” Jay said, sitting next to you. You shifted in place. “So, bite me.”
You looked at Jay, unsure, and he nodded once before tilting his head, giving you access to his neck. Your hands trembled as you reached for his shoulder, so he grabbed your hand in his and held it tight. When he felt your nose bump into his chin, he closed his eyes, and when he felt the warmth of your breath graze the skin on his neck, he almost shivered.
You bit him once and at the same time, you felt his hand squeeze your waist. His scent flooded your mind, and you could not hold back from biting him one more time, so you did. You let go with a shaky breath and pulled away only to find Jay looking into your eyes.
“It’s not bad, isn’t it?” He asked.
You licked your lips and brought your other hand to his shoulder.
“Do it again,” Jay demanded.
You tilted your head to the other side of his neck, where you found a heart-shaped birthmark, and this time you bit him there without hesitation.
“See?” He spoke, and his voice echoed right into your ear. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Jay squeezed your waist one more time before you decided to bite him a couple more times. He began rubbing your back gently before you suddenly felt a wash of overwhelming feelings. You moved back to the other side and bit him again, but this time you bit too hard that he winced and let go of his grip on your waist.
You flinched at his reaction and immediately felt regret. Your eyes flickered to the window, and you noticed how quickly the sun was setting, so before Jay could say anything you jumped to your feet and ran out of your chambers.
“Princess!”
Your feet took you to the farthest room in the castle and you quickly entered it, locking the door behind you. You leaned back on it and started sobbing, thinking of how foolish you were to even entertain the idea of marrying Jay in your condition. You slumped to the floor and sobbed, ignoring the banging on the door and Jay’s distraught voice begging you to let him in.
“Please leave, Jay.”
Your voice was weak and almost a croak, and you figured it was because of all the crying. But then Jay also stopped knocking on the door, and you heard rustling and a couple of soft taps by the keyhole.
“Princess? I can hear you.”
You almost choked on your own sob at Jay’s obvious remark, but then you paused, and you heard him speak again.
“Look out the window, Princess.”
The sun had set, and you could not believe your eyes. You held up your hands, your fingers, in front of you before you touched your own face to feel your nose, your cheeks, and your lips. Then you checked outside again, making sure your mind was not playing tricks and that you really had not transformed.
You heard another knock on the door and without waiting for another word you opened it. The look on Jay’s face was that of relief mixed with adoration, and he did not waste any time walking towards you to pull you into his embrace. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, staining his skin with your tears and letting him wrap his arms around you as tightly as he could.
You felt him tug one of your sleeves and you pulled back to look at him. He brought his hand up to caress your face, wiping the remaining tears off your cheek.
“Marry me, Princess.”
You answered by inching your face closer to his before nodding slightly and kissing him on the lips. You tasted his sigh right after, loving the way his arms wrapped around you again as you pulled him even closer by the neck. He shut the door behind him with his foot and moved you towards the bed, carefully guiding you all the way as he placed his hand on the small of your back, not even once pulling away from the kiss.
The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you both stopped, pulling away to catch your breath and to undress yourselves. Jay pulled his top off quickly while you struggled with your corset, so he gently shoved your hands away so he could undress you himself. When he pulled all of your clothes down to pool at your feet, you could feel his breath against your thighs, and you almost lost your balance if he did not place his hands on your hips.
Jay began kissing your core without warning and you whimpered at the sudden warmth. Just moments ago, you were biting his neck like he was your prey, yet now you are watching him devour you, his face in between your legs as you struggle to even keep your eyes open. At one point, the way his tongue was pressing on your clit made you pull on his hair a little too tight, and when he looked up at you, he grinned before licking his top lip.
You sat down on the bed and pulled him in by his shoulders, and he began to lay you down before he settled over you. He got rid of the last of his clothes and you could feel his tip graze your bottom lips.
“Jay, wait,” you whispered, placing a palm over his chest.
He leaned into you to give you a soft peck on the cheek. “Yes, Princess?”
You chuckled and began caressing his face with one hand. “Do you even know my name?”
Jay let out an airy but silent laugh, burying his face in your neck. “Do you really think I would stay for so long in this castle without knowing the name of the residents? You know my name even without me telling you.”
You rested your thumb on his cheek and the rest of your fingers behind his ear, making him face you again. He moved his face to kiss your palm.
“Then call me by my name,” you requested. “And I shall chant yours like it’s my favorite spell.”
Jay smirked before leaning in to kiss your lips. “Very well then,” he whispered into your mouth, “Y/N.”
You felt him ease into you with a gentle force, and he caught your gasp between his lips. You held on to his shoulders as he began thrusting in and out of you, making you bring your legs up in order to feel him better.
“Slowly, Jay,” you begged him once you felt his pace was going a little too fast.
Jay grunted, seemingly unable to control his thirst for you, so you kept the pace by meeting him halfway and grinding your hips towards his. You could feel his biceps flexing as he held himself up, so you caressed his arms before you made your next request.
“Bite me.”
You brushed his hair back before you let him kiss your lips, and after that his lips traveled down to your chin and to your neck, licking you there several times before he bit you. You chanted his name as you promised, and when it was time for him to reach his high, he moaned your name right into your ear.
As you felt his seed coat your insides, you felt his thumb circling your clit for you to catch up with him. He pulled out of you only to finger his load back inside your hole, and that was how you reached your high of the night.
When Jay collapsed by your side, you became aware of the marks that you had left on his neck earlier that evening. You moved closer to him, and he welcomed you by pulling you to his side with one arm, having you rest your head on his shoulder.
“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” You whispered, too afraid to disturb the serenity.
“Princess,” Jay began. “My princess,” he corrected himself. “Even if it hurt, I liked it.”
You snorted and tapped Jay’s cheek, and your body moved with his as he started to laugh.
“If you feel the urge next time,” he continued, “just come and leave marks on my neck.”
Jay tilted your chin up with his finger before kissing you softly, and for the first time in forever, you finally felt content.
-END-
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#writtenbynana#fic: bite me#enhypen#jay#enhypen jay#jay enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen jay smut#jay smut#jay enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen royalty au#enhypen fantasy au#jay hard hours#jongseong#jongseong smut#jongseong park#park jongseong#enhypen x reader#jay x reader#jongseong x reader
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— ✧ red (k)nights
pairing. xu minghao x reader
description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.
tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …
outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!
fic playlist.
w/c. 6.7k
a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:
“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.
Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”
Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”
“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.
“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.
“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.
“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.
“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.
“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.
“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.
“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”
Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.
“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.
“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”
“Stress?”
You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”
Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.
“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”
You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.
“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.
Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”
“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”
“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”
“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.
Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.
“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.
“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.
Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.
Fuck, you really miss him.
Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.
You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.
So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.
Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.
Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.
So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.
Silly you for not accounting for him.
Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.
You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.
You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.
His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.
The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.
Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.
“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.
He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”
Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.
Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.
That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.
You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.
“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.
Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.
“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.
Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.
You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.
“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.
Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”
“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.
“You’re not great at lying.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.
“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”
You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”
Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”
“Suspecting?”
“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”
You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”
“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”
You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.
Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.
With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.
And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.
“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”
“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.
“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”
“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”
“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”
Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.
And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.
“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.
“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.
Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”
“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”
You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”
“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”
“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.
“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.
The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.
Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.
Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.
His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.
When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.
“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.
“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.
“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.
“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”
“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”
“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.
“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”
“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.
“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.
“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.
“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.
You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.
And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.
Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”
You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.
“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.
Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.
You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.
“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.
He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.
“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.
“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.
“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.
He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.
“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.
“Eunji picked it out for me…”
He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.
Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.
“What’s this?”
“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.
“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.
“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.
You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.
The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.
Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.
“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.
The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.
As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.
“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.
“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.
Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”
You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.
He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.
Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”
“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.
Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.
You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.
“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.
Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.
Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.
His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.
Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.
“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.
You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”
“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.
“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.
“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.
Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.
“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.
“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”
Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”
“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.
Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”
#minghao#minghao smut#minghao imagines#xu minghao#minghao x reader#minghao drabbles#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao smut#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt smut#svt reactions#seventeen smut#the8 x reader#the8 smut#📝 writing
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Pickup Lines (HC)
Fandom: Obey Me
Pairing: DB, Royals, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen with gn!Reader
Warning: Corny? Lol. Minors don't look under the cut.
Prompt: Which pickup lines would he use for you?
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Lucifer
"Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"
“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print."
"Are you a dictionary? Because you add meaning to my life."
Mammon
"Hey, are you a bank loan? Because you've got my interest, and I can't help but want to invest in you."
"If beauty were money, you'd be the richest person alive."
"If looks could buy, you'd bankrupt me in an instant."
Levi
"Are you a rare drop? Because ever since I met you, I feel like I've found the ultimate loot."
"Are you a cheat code? Because meeting you feels like I've unlocked a special power-up."
"If love were a game, you'd be my final boss."
Satan
"If you were a cat, you'd be a purr-fect 10."
"Do you believe in love at first chapter? Because ever since I met you, I can't stop thinking about the next page of our story."
"If you were a cat, you'd definitely have nine lives because one lifetime wouldn't be enough to spend with someone as special as you."
Asmo
"Are you made of diamonds? Because you shine brighter than any gem."
"Are you a mirror? Because when I look at you, I see the reflection of my dreams."
"If beauty were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence."
Beelzebub
"If you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple."
"If you were a cookie, you'd be a fortune cookie, because meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Are you a campfire? Because you're hot, and I want s'more."
Belphegor
"Are you a dream? Because every time I'm with you, I never want to wake up."
"Are you a cozy blanket? Because being with you feels like a warm hug."
"If sleep were a journey, you'd be the sweetest dream I've ever had."
Diavolo
"Are you a rose? Because just like its petals, your beauty is timeless and enchanting."
"If you were a kingdom, I'd gladly pledge my allegiance to you."
"Are you a royal decree? Because you've commanded my attention since the moment I laid eyes on you."
Simeon
"If you were a star in the sky, you'd be the most radiant one, outshining all the others."
"Do you have a map? Because I seem to have lost my way, and you're the only one guiding me towards the light."
"Are you a sunrise? Because every time I see you, you bring a new dawn to my day."
Barbatos
“I couldn't help noticing how captivating your smile is. It brightens up the entire room."
"Are you a puzzle? Because I'm intrigued by the challenge of figuring you out."
"If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber."
Solomon
"Do you believe in magic? Because ever since you walked into my life, it feels like you've cast a spell on me."
"Are you eternity? Because with you, every moment feels like it lasts forever."
"Are you a scientist? Because you've just discovered the formula to my heart."
Thirteen
"Are you a lost soul? Because you've wandered into the realm of my heart."
"If you were a dessert, you'd be the cherry on top of my day."
"Are you a cupcake? Because you're cute, sweet, and I can't get enough of you."
N.SFW/heavily suggestive under cut!
Lucifer
"Are you a teapot? Because I'd love to steep with you and pour out all my secrets."
Mammon
"Are you a stock market? Because every time I think of you, my investments just keep rising."
Levi
"Are you a controller? Because I'd love to be in your hands."
Satan
"Are you a book? Because I can't seem to put you down, and I keep wanting to explore every page of you."
Asmo
"Are you a work of art? Because I can't help but admire every curve and contour of your beauty, and I'd love to explore you like a masterpiece."
Beelzebub
"Are you a marshmallow? Because I want to roast you over my fire."
Belphegor
"Are you a bed? Because I'd love to climb on top of you."
Diavolo
Dinner first, or can we go straight for dessert?
Simeon
Do you want to commit a sin for your next confessional?
Barbatos
"Are you a baker? Because you've got some buns that I'd love to knead."
Solomon
I’m not feeling myself today. Can I feel you instead?
Thirteen
"Are you a rainstorm? Because you make me wet.”
———————————————
➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3]
➣ Main Masterlist
➣ Buy me a Ko-fi?
➣ Commission: Open
➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed
#obey me#obey me hcs#obey me headcanons#obey me nightbringer#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me thirteen
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I got this idea in my head and it's literally drowning me. It's a toxic thing with Konig, so if you don't wanna write that, I totally get it, just ignore it. (Your blog feeds my obsession 💀)
The team gets sent on a mission to debunk some cartel or smth and a long the way they run into a girl who was being held captive w the bad guys and since Konig finds her first, he saves her and since she has no one else, she clings to him and he is just obsessed with her. Like someone so innocent just attached herself to his hip and only trusts him and it makes him crazy for her because he's never had anyone like that. He tries hard in missions to get back to her, she waits up and keeps his bed warm so she knows he's okay. Anyone disrespects her? Dead. Talk about her in anyway but perfect? Dead. Touch her? Deader than dead. He's her savior and she's his girl. That's just how it is.
Perfect, perfect, perfect! A lovely request from your majesty. You really are a shining beacon to the kingdom, and I will happily accept!
I present to you…
STUCK LIKE GLUE
PART ONE | PART TWO HERE (2.0k words)
CW: guns, mentions of possible abuse, but other than that, just fluff
“These low-lives really like to run around and hide, don’t they Colonel?” Horangi speaks in a quiet tone as the Kortac team walks through a mountain-range forest. They were sent to catch a bunch of cartel-nobodies in the middle of a trade-off by surprise, but after the unit’s location was continuously found out, they had been on a wild goose-chase ever since.
“Ja, but we will get them this time. I feel it in my bones.” He had a confident tone, and his voice was raspy. “Let’s split up, we will find their transaction site faster that way.” König began to walk through the bushes, trying to make his steps as light as possible. His gun aimed and ready for anything that would pop out, he walked until he came across a small, worn-down shed. He hid behind a tree and saw a man sitting outside on his phone; he was probably supposed to guard the shed, but the lack of more security arose suspicions. He aimed his gun and fired, and the man fell to the ground. His eyes scanned the perimeter for any other enemies, and he determined everything was all clear. He walked to the side of the shed and peeked through the window, where he saw a woman with her hands and legs tied together. She lay on a tattered mattress, and it honestly seemed like she hadn’t had a bath in days, her only clothes were her undergarments. He looked inside the rest of the shed and saw no one else, so he walked back around to the door and opened it quietly. With the door now wide open, the woman backed away into the corner and trembled at the sight of such a large, hooded man before her.
“Please…please just leave me alone…” Her voice was shaky, and her eyes began to well up with tears. What had she really gone though?
“Do not worry, miss, I am not here to hurt you,” He stepped closer with as much gentleness as possible, trying his best to not scare her any further. He crouched low to the ground and laid his gun down, his hands in front of his chest with his palms facing her. “I am here to help you get out, if you will let me…?” He removed his glove and reached over to undo her restraints. She looked at his rough, coarse hands covered in calluses, and although it wasn’t the prettiest sight, she suddenly felt safe. Maybe this guy really could give her a home.
Once the ropes fell to the floor, she threw herself onto him in a tight hug. König couldn’t fathom the possible atrocities that were committed to this woman, and just thinking about them made him want to hug her back, but tighter.
“Colonel, we found the location. Where are you?” Horangi’s voice came through a radio on König’s chest, and he pressed a button on it to respond.
“I found one hostage in a shed. A woman,”
“They have hostages?” Horangi sighed quietly on the other end.
“I only saw one, but who knows if there will be more. Let’s just hope there aren’t.” König asked for the coordinates and looked down at the woman who was now staring at him.
“I need you to come with me so I can keep you safe, but we will be going near the bad men. Are you alright with that? You’ll have to obey my orders if you don’t want to get hurt.” His eyes softened for her, she looked around and bit her finger trying to make a decision.
“A-alright…” She said, and she was suddenly swept off her feet. König carried her bridal style so her bare feet wouldn’t scratch on the forest ground. To someone like her, he looked like a god; her savior in her darkest time. The entire time she was carried, she looked at him with awe.
“I need you to stay low and quiet, okay?” He placed her down a little far away and he patted her hair. He peeked up from the plants and regrouped with the rest, his hand gesturing forward for the entire unit to start moving towards the abandoned building where the trade-off was taking place. She looked through the shrubs and watched as they all surrounded the building and then bursted in. She cupped her hands over her ears when the sound of gunfire and yelling that seemed to last forever took place, and she worried if her savior wouldn’t make it out alive. What if he gets killed, or worse, what if he gets taken like she did? She waited until the gunfire stopped and she ran to the building, her feet getting scratched and cut by the sticks on the ground. She slammed the door open and looked inside, panting. Multiple guns were pointed at her out of caution.
“Warte, don’t hurt her!” König’s voice boomed through the building and everyone immediately put their guns down. Her eyes welled up with tears, and just as her knees were about to give in, he rushed to her side and held her up.
“I-I thought something bad happened to you…!” She clung to his shirt and cried into his chest; her sobs could break the hearts of people who didn’t even know what was going on. He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry all she wanted.
“Who is this?” They all began to walk closer, curious as to who had tamed the wild beast that was König.
“The single hostage,” He crouched down so they were now eye level and took off his gloves, his hands held her face. “Did you really think I’d let something bad happen to me? I’m tougher than I look, Liebling.”
What a spectacle it was to see König being gentle with someone, as the only side they’ve seen of him was one full of bloodshed and gore. Now it almost seemed as if flowers were growing around him.
“Do you have a home to go to?” He asked, and she shook her head.
“I had a father, but he was killed for not paying off his debts. It’s just me…” Her voice was still shaky, but she was no longer crying. He nodded and picked her up once again, he turned around to look at his team.
“She will come back to base with us, and I will take care of her. If any of you even try something, I’ll tear your limbs off one by one.” By his eyes alone, everyone could tell he wasn’t joking. This lost puppy has found its new owner, and he will make sure she never loses her way again.
————————
The ride back to base was silent, not because it was awkward, but because the team knew that if they even peeped a word and woke the girl, they’d regret it later. She was carried to König’s room and was sat down on a chair, König kneeled down in front of her as she rubbed her eyes.
“Do you think you have enough energy for a bath?” He asked while looking up at her. She nodded and stood up, he led her to the bathroom. He turned on the water and let the tub fill up before wondering how she was going to wash herself without getting hurt. It seems as though he really has taken her for a helpless animal that he came across, wounded and forlorn.
“I’ll look away while you undress and get in the tub. Make sure to sit with your back towards me so I can wash your hair.” He took off his gear and looked at the wall as he heard the sounds of clothes falling to the ground. There were small splashes of water when she stepped in, and it finally grew quiet.
“Alright, you can turn around now.” He turned around and sat on the floor of the bathroom so he wouldn’t accidentally see her naked body. He reached forward and splashed water on her hair before pumping shampoo in his hands and lathering it all over. He made sure to be gentle as his fingers massage her scalp, her head bounced backwards every so often from nearly falling asleep.
“Can you wash your body yourself?” He asked quietly and she nodded. She put body wash on her hands and foamed it up as she rubbed it on her upper body. Once he saw that she finished, he grabbed the shower head and rinsed her hair and body off.
“You can dry off now, I’ll wait outside.” He grabbed a towel and handed it to her, those small hands grabbing it with grace contrasting his rough hold. After König left the bathroom, he sat on the couch and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. This girl was now his responsibility, but he surprisingly wasn’t complaining. Normally he would prefer to not have to watch over someone twenty-four seven, but she was an exception.
She walked out of the bathroom with the towel on, but her hair dropped water on the floor. How could he forget to get her clothes? He rose up quickly and looked through his wardrobe, trying to find something for her to wear before she gets sick from the cold. He yanked out a large t-shirt and sweatpants and handed them to her.
“Are you alright with wearing this without undergarments? I’ll take you to buy some tomorrow after my mission, so don’t fret.” He gave her the clothes when she nodded, and he turned around, listening for the sound of fabric grazing against her skin. She tapped his shoulder and he shifted his body back towards her. His clothes fit very loosely on her, and the sweatpants were clearly big, but it would have to do for tonight.
“You can sleep on my bed for the night. I’ll set up some blankets down on the floor.” He looked under his bed and took out a box full of blankets, opening it and setting them down on the floor.
“No, I couldn’t…I’d feel bad,”
“And I’d feel worse if you don’t.” He looked up at her, he was kneeling on the floor trying to straighten out each of the blankets before she unsuccessfully tried to pick him up by the arm.
“Then let’s both sleep on the bed. Please?” She had those same eyes when he first found her, and as if some gravitational pull attracted him to her, he didn’t hesitate to move onto the bed and lay her down next to him. They were face to face when he laid down, taking in all of her facial features while the only thing the girl could look at were his eyes.
“I have to go wash up as well, so you should fall asleep first, alright?” He brushed the hair on her face behind her ear and sat up. “Oh, and don’t worry if you don’t see me next morning, my mission starts early. I’ll come back quickly, though.” He smiled and stood up, making his way to the bathroom.
————————
König stumbled to his quarters and opened the door, the girl lay on his bed sleeping peacefully. It had been around a month since she had come into his life, and he had already grown accustomed to her. He took a shower and walked back out to the bed, he lay himself in front of her and enveloped her in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open to see a maskless König, which she had the privilege of seeing weeks before, and she cuddled closer to him.
“When did you get back?” Her voice was quiet and muffled against his chest.
“Around thirty or forty minutes ago. You should go back to sleep.” He kissed her forehead and massaged her back, allowing her breathing to be his lullaby. She may have thought him her savior, but to him, this woman was his downfall. His only weakness was a girl who had looked to him for the comfort of a home.
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#fanfic#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig smut#konig x reader#konig modern warfare#könig cod#konig cod#könig fanfiction#könig call of duty#könig modern warfare#könig#könig mw2
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