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ollypopwrites · 7 hours

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From Depths Unknown; Part 7/7

Part 1 ⚜️ Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 or Read on Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Smut (PiV sex, eating it from the back and hitting it from the back, semi-public sex, semi-roleplaying sex), fantasy racism, background Bloodweave, familial banter, Rolan being Rolan, and Tav's savior complex.

Notes: Tying up some loose ends and giving you extra smut as promised.

Chapter Summary:

Rolan and Tav begin the newest chapter of their lives together.

Tav felt more relaxed than she had in months.

Humming to herself as she made her way up to the suite at the Elfsong, she could hardly keep from smiling as she walked through the doors. Calling out a greeting, she went to collect any letters and missives that may have collected during her overnight stay at the tower. An official invitation to Duchess Florrick’s coronation, some inquiries from Barcus Wroot, and a letter about erecting a statue in the upper city of her and her friends. She snorted at that.

“And where have you been?” Astarion called, he was standing cross armed with a measuring tape around his neck while Gale stood in front of a mirror in a rather lavish looking robe pinned in place. He was smirking, and even Gale was trying to come across stern rather than mischievous as he stared at her through the mirror.

“I had stuff to do at the tower.”

“Does ‘stuff’ include the master of said tower?” Shadowheart smiled.

“Actually,” Tav said despite the burning heat in her face. “ Yes .”

“Thank the Moon Maiden,” Shadowheart said, “it’s about time.”

Tav had nothing to say back, her false bravado dying with the high pitched giggle that came from Astarion across the room.

“Oh I’d kill to see the look on his face,” he grinned. “He’s probably levitating.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Gale protested.

“That’s somehow worse .”

“So…” Shadowheart slinked over. “How was it?”

Tav balked. “What? Do you want details?”

“Yes,” she and Astarion said at the same time.

“I’m sure we all have enough imagination to figure it out.” Gale said. It was no secret that he was rather private about these things, in high contrast to Astarion and Shadowheart who were definitely not.

“There you see, Gale doesn’t want to hear about it,” Tav said quickly.

“Don’t ruin this for me,” Astarion poked him. “Start talking.”

“What makes you think Rolan wants you to have all the sordid details?” Gale protested. “It’s hardly our business.”

“Well you were gone all night,” Shadowheart said. “So I’m assuming he did something right.”

“A few things, actually.”

“Didn’t know he had it in him,” Shadowheart teased. “That could be for your benefit, though. You’re the bossy type, I’m sure he’s amenable.”

“You never know,” Astarion commented, back to his project of Gale’s outfit. “You’d be surprised how out of character people can be in bed.”

“So Gale’s not a talker then?” Tav teased.

“How did I become the topic of this conversation?” Gale scoffed.

With the attention off of her, Tav gratefully went to change her clothes from the day before. Before she walked away, Shadowheart grabbed her hand.

“We are happy for you, you know.”

“Thank you.” Tav smiled, feeling suddenly shy.

“Have you found something to wear to this coronation?” She asked, taking mercy on her friend and changing the subject.

“Oh shit,” Tav blinked. “Damn I haven’t even thought of it.” She looked over to Astarion and the lavish robe he was fitting to Gale. “What are you wearing?” She asked Shadowheart.

“Halsin and I will be long gone before then,” Shadowheart said. “He’s not much of a fan of all that pomp and circumstance. And I don’t care much for dancing, and balls and the like.”

“What kind of balls do you like?” Tav cocked her head.

“The big burly druid kind, I’d wager,” Astarion said.

Tav cackled.

“Children.” Gale muttered with a grin.

“I do want to see what you’ll wear,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

“I’ll drag Mum and Lottie away to Facemaker’s soon, you can come with,” Tav said. “Oh gods. I have to tell Mum and Lottie.”

“Hopefully you spare them the details.”

“I mean about staying in Baldur’s Gate.”

Just like that her bubble burst. All of the sudden she remembered the weight of the decision, the very reason she had gone to the tower the day before in the first place. The guilt in her gut returned, and the dread of telling her mother she would be staying so far away reared its ugly head.

“So you are staying?” Shadowheart asked.

“Jaheira offered me a role in the Harpers.” Tav explained. “And… I think I really want to do it.”

“Having the city’s archmage for a lover certainly helps make that decision easier, I’d think.”

Rolan had tugged Tav backwards for one last kiss before she made her way out of the kitchen that morning for breakfast. Cal and Lia had been on the other side of the door when she opened it, staring as she called a quick goodbye on her way out. He straightened his spine in preparation when Lia looked at him with her eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched her horns.

“Tav spent the night?” Cal asked confused as he came in. “I didn’t even see her!”

“I think she was busy.” Lia grinned.

“What could she be so busy with that she didn’t —“ Cal cut himself off as he looked at Rolan. “Oh, Hells, that’s — ugh ,” he shuddered.

“So?” Lia asked.

“So what?” Rolan said shortly.

“Did you ask her to move in yet? Did you propose?”

“We…” Rolan took time to choose his words. “She’s staying in the city, if that’s what you mean.”

“Thank the Gods, you’ve been moping for weeks,” Cal said. “Can you cheer up, now?”

“I’m perfectly content,” he said dryly. “I had quite the invigorating morning.”

The pair of his siblings protested so loudly it was enough to satisfy him that they would stop pestering him for a while. The shop had to be opened, and business had to be attended to. There was still the issue of his having something to wear to Florrick’s coronation, and he needed to ensure Cal and Lia did as well. Between studying, running the shop, and answering letters — it was time to set out for their weekly meet up at the Elfsong before he knew it.

Alfira performed more often than not, but at least once a week the tieflings in the city from their caravan all gathered. A small sense of community in a new, frightening place. Usually Tav’s dwindling camp joined in, if they were not previously occupied. The only time she had missed it was after they found themselves in the belly of a Bhaalist temple. Even then Rolan had found her on the rooftop that night.

It was business as usual, the crowd was loud and rowdy. Lottie’s special of the week was sold out quickly, and Tatianna winked at him from behind the bar while she served. Tav and her companions were chatting with the tieflings, and as he took in the scene, he considered that just a short while ago he would not have expected to see them all socializing so casually. The party at the Grove had been a special occasion, but now it felt more like tradition.

Minsc was locked into an intense arm wrestling match with Guex who was just barely holding his own against the ranger. Dammon was speaking with Tav, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Bex and Dannis sat by to listen to a story of Halsin’s, while Lakrissa laughed at something Astarion said that had Gale hiding his blushing face. Shadowheart and Alfira were deep in conversation, and Lia bounded right up to crash it. Cal had taken to cheering Guex on and Rolan easily moved to take the other seat next to Tav.

A strange nervousness sat in his stomach as he gingerly wrapped his arm around the back of her chair. His fingers played with the collar of her shirt, and she grabbed it to quickly press a kiss to his skin before continuing on with her conversation. Emboldened he wrapped his tail around her ankle under the table, happy enough in the moment to simply be there with her and not start a conversation of his own. It was comfortable, easy proximity that made his heart swell.

“What do you think, Rolan?” Dammon asked.

“Erm,” Rolan faltered, realizing he had not paid one bit of attention to what they had been saying.

“We are thinking of building some kind of enchanted case around Karlach’s heart, with some kind of ice or water spell,” Tav said.

“Enchanting Infernal Iron with anything but fire based spells would be difficult,” he frowned. “But not impossible.”

“Difficult is fine, we can do difficult,” Tav said eagerly.

“Difficult is your middle name, I’m convinced,” he said back.

“It still may only be temporary,” Dammon said. “The engine was meant for extreme physical exertion in the hells. It made her a war machine, essentially. It runs that hot to keep her going under any circumstances.” He scratched at his chin, “we have to find a way to reconstruct it without killing her.”

“But the enchanted casing, it could keep it cool and give us time, and then she could come back.”

Dammon didn’t seem to want to let Tav down, and he gave a half nod. “It’s certainly worth looking into.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” she said gratefully.

Dammon excused himself to grab more drinks. Leaving the two of them alone amidst a crowd of people. Tav seemed lost in thought for a moment after he left, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“By the end of this you’ll be an expert enchanter,” he said.

“If that’s what it takes,” she shook her head. “Sorry,” she winced, “I’m getting tunnel vision again. How was your day?”

“Fine. Just letters and the shop and my books.”

“What more could you want?”

“I have something in mind.”

Tav looked shy for a moment, hyper aware they were in public as she looked around the room. It was not often he felt debonair, but that just seemed to be her effect on him. Confidence that felt well-founded for once.

“The coronation,” she said to fill the silence. “I was wondering if you… would go with me?”

“I was under the impression we were all going,” he raised an eyebrow.

“We are,” she laughed a little. “Except Shadowheart and Halsin. But I meant together as in… you know. Together .”

“How else would we go?” He laughed.

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said, flustered.

“It’s not much of an assumption, it’s more a given, honestly. Or did I not make it clear this morning when I had your thighs over my shoulders?” He lowered his voice enough that only she could hear, leaning in slightly.

Tav looked over her shoulder to make sure no one heard before she also tilted her body forward closer to him. “You could always make it a bit clearer again tonight. Just for transparency, of course.”

“Can you two get a room?” Lottie suddenly appeared with a tray of food for the table, dropping it between them and making them create some distance. “Where were you last night?”

“Out.” Tav said shortly.

“Out where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Tav shook her head.

“Cal says you slept at the tower.” Lottie grinned.

“Gods, that big mouthed buffoon,” Rolan winced. “I told you introducing them was the worst thing that we could have done.”

“I’m telling mum.” With that Lottie quickly escaped the glare of her older sister.

Tav groaned. “I think we should consider a nanny for them again. It would be worth the money.”

Her friends had cleared out for breakfast, leaving Tav alone with her mother and sister. That morning she had woken up and only had a few moments of calm before her reality set in. As excited as she was for the prospect of her future in the city, there were some painful goodbyes on the horizon. It was hard not to linger on them, despite them not even having happened yet.

“We will have to wrangle up supplies soon,” Tatianna said over her breakfast. “Rations last, I think, but we should head to Sundries to get what we need.”

“Cal said he has been setting some stuff aside for us,” Lottie replied. “Some health potions and scrolls.”

“We won’t need much,” Tatianna said. “Just enough for any mishaps, and some extra comfort.”

“The roads may be dangerous,” Tav said. “The Absolute threat is gone but who knows how many former cultists are still nearby.”

“You doubt your dear mama?” Tatianna asked. “I’ve slipped past worse than goblins and bandits.”

“I know,” Tav smiled. “I just worry.”

“Rolan gave us some sending scrolls,” Lottie said. “We can call for help if we need to.”

“We won’t need to,” Tatianna said certainly. “Lottie knows what to do if I don’t come back from scouting, we had everything planned out on our journey here and we will do the same on the way back. It’s going to be fine.”

“Are you sure traveling with Halsin and the refugees isn’t an option?” Tav asked. “You don’t need to go to the coronation, I’d rather know you’re safe.”

“Tav,” Tatianna sighed. “What is this about?”

There was a long pause as Tav tried to gather her courage.

“I’m not going with you,” she blurted out. “I’m joining the Harpers.”

Tatianna cocked her head a little. “Sweet one, I know you’re not coming. We never thought you were.”

“What?”

“It’s so obvious,” Lottie rolled her eyes. “You're the Savior of the Gate, now. You have big important hero stuff to do.”

“It’s not like that,” Tav said quickly. “I - I like this. I think I’m good at it, I think I can really do something here.”

“You can,” Tatianna said, “you will .”

“Rolan will make it so I can be there if I need to,” Tav rambled on. “If you need anything I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Tav,” Tatianna put her hand out to grab hers. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she laughed a little. “This is your life, my dear girl. I’ll miss you everyday, I’ll never not think of you, but I’ll be happy to know you’re out here doing exactly what you want to do.”

Tav chewed the inside of her cheek. “When Papa died I told myself I’d always —“ she took a deep breath, not even sure what she wanted to say, “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him,” she said to Lottie, “I’m sorry that —“

“It’s time to let that be in the past,” Tatianna said firmly. “He would never have wanted you to carry it like this.”

Lottie didn’t say anything, but she shifted to hug Tav.

“I’ll try,” Tav said gently, pressing her head to Lottie’s.

“The Harpers will be lucky to have you in their ranks,” Tatianna said. “And I know quite a few. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, great,” Tav rolled her eyes.

“And Rolan is here,” Lottie lifted her head with a sniffle and mischievous look in her slightly watery eyes.

“Yes,” Tav said pointedly. “He is. And I’m sure Cal and Lia will tease us enough that you’ll be satisfied.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to.”

“Did he speak to you?” Tatianna asked.

“Yes,” Tav cleared her throat, trying desperately not to think about just how much was said and done up in the tower that day.

“Good, I thought he never would.”

“I’m starting to understand what he means about being meddlesome.” She sighed in response.

The rest of the day went much like the others had. A weight was lifted off of her shoulders, despite the gloomy prospect of her friends and family leaving soon. Still, she was determined to enjoy their company while she could.

Seeing Cal and Lia wearing formal clothes was a change he was not sure he could get used to. Cal looked uncomfortable in the stiff shirt, and the shoes that were far less comfortable than his well-worn leather boots he had for years. Lia was enjoying it, at least, but she was moving carefully like she would tear or stain the silk shirt she wore.

Despite what he was trying to convey, he also felt the new discomfort of wearing something so formal. He was hyper aware of the tighter collar of his robes, distracted by the pinching of the shoes, and the heavier weight of the expensive fabric. Still, he put his shoulders back, his chin high and attempted not to pay attention to any looks sent his way.

A lot of the gathering was patriars, but a good number of merchant class were present. Another sign of Duchess Florrick’s influence: as the city was rebuilt she was trying to mesh the upper city and the lower onto more equal ground. But there was still an apparent separation of who the patriars were deciding to sit next to. And a good number of people had stared for far too long when they had been announced; three Elturelian refugees were not what many of them expected as the new attendentents of Ramazith’s Tower.

He felt an immense amount of pressure not to embarrass himself. A renewed feeling of eagerness to make it clear he belonged there.

The means of the celebration were less grand, which was purposeful. Most money had been spent on local vendors who still had enough to decorate and cater an event — the Gazette was lauding her for ‘invigorating the local economy.’ Florrick was doing well to get the city on her side, and it was clear by the celebrations happening in the streets outside of the actual event.

Rolan watched as Tav, Gale and Astarion made their way to stand at Florrick’s side along with Minsc and Jaheira who were now repeat defenders of the city. Astarion and Gale looked right at home, both of them dignified and upper crust in their own ways. Tav seemed to be mirroring them, with her shoulders squared and her head held high. Just a couple days ago she had been holding back tears as she sent Shadowheart and Halsin off, spending the rest of the day in a sad haze. Now she looked confident and stoic, he was sure he was the only one who noticed the nervous way she kept biting the inside of her cheek as she glanced around the crowd.

She caught sight of him, seated with his siblings, her mother and her sister. She smiled a little and he gave her a firm nod of encouragement before she looked back to the ceremony.

Rolan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Facemaker had gone out of his way to create a beautiful gown for the city’s hero, themed off of her storm magic in silver, purple and navy blue. The plunging neckline showed off her breasts, and the delicate pearl necklace which she wore everyday. Her skirts looked silky to the touch, hiding her legs except for a slit in one side. Speeches were made, honors were given and all the while Rolan’s eyes kept drifting back to Tav.

The Duchess and the heroes were stormed by upper-city admirers once the ceremony ended, Rolan staying to the back with their family and nursing a glass of wine. His eyes tracked over the crowd every once in a while. Gale and Astarion were with her, so he was not too worried, but he immediately felt relieved when he saw them all approaching their group.

“I’m starting to understand why Halsin and Shadowheart left before this,” she muttered. “No less than three patriars have tried to bribe me for a dance.”

“It’s a hot social commodity to dance with a defender of the Gate,” Astarion commented.

“Is this truly my life now?”

“Every job has a downside, Tav,” Tatianna laughed at her.

“You two should take to the floor,” Jaheira came up, ever ready to marionette everyone for her own schemes of keeping the city in order. “The Master of Ramazith’s Tower and the Savior of the Gate will send a clear message. The lower city is not to be ignored.”

Rolan felt his stomach turn. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Me neither,” Tav winced.

“No time like the present to practice, cubs.” Jaheira arched a brow at them.

“This is an order, isn’t it?”

“A suggestion,” she shrugged, “but if you refuse it may escalate to an order.”

“I’m not a Harper,” Rolan reminded her.

“ But I am ,” Tav chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Who else would do in Rolan’s place?”

“A merchant. Someone like the Irlentree’s new head of house, or the Dluskers.” Jaheira pointed out a young half-elf woman and a human man across the room.

Rolan felt himself bristle. “You’re going to just pawn her off to the nearest suitable parvenu?”

“This is the game we play now,” Jaheira told him seriously. “The city is in a state of equity, and in order to keep the Patriars in check before they bloat their pockets again a point must be made.” She looked at Tav, “you’re the daughter of an innkeeper, vaulted to unknown heights by your own mettle. Giving the working class families your attention tells the nobles and the city your intentions.”

“I understand,” Tav nodded, a serious expression like she had just been given a mission of life or death.

“Bloody hells,” Rolan grumbled, holding out his hand, “come on.”

“Rolan, you don’t have to —“ Tav started, but he never gave her the chance to give him an out. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the dance floor. “No one is trying to guilt trip you, Rolan,” she said as she caught up to his pace. “There’s nothing to get worked up about.”

“I’m not going to watch some puffed up social climber swing you around the room,” he said. “We don’t know anything about them, what if they're dangerous?”

“Oh, it’s my safety you're concerned about now?”

Rolan turned and felt his jaw tighten. He grabbed her waist, and her hand in his. If he was honest with himself the idea of her dancing with someone else was annoying, especially when they had arrived together. But in the back of his mind, he was worried about Tav’s general goodness being used against her.

Astarion and Gale were well enough versed in high society to hold their own — Tav was from a small village on the edge of nowhere.

Rolan was just as green when it came to these events, but his time as Lorroakan’s apprentice had him well prepared for the worst of the city’s upper class denizens. He also had the benefit of being circumspect and ready for the worst. More than one of the nobles had already made a comment about his being a tiefling. No one had outright called him Hellspawn or foul blood but opinions of him had been made clear with double sided compliments. Tav had the tendency to assume the best of people, and she was too forgiving, something he knew he benefited from himself. Who else would bother with him after the way he had treated her in the Shadow Cursed lands? Who could blame him for being protective?

“She’s throwing you in too quickly,” he said as they started to move. “You don’t know this world.”

“And you do?” She was slightly defensive, he could sense it in the tenseness of her pursed lips.

“I spent weeks under Lorroakan’s thumb,” he commented. “I know what they’re like.”

“I can handle myself, Rolan.”

They were moving around the floor in slightly stunted movements, neither of them very graceful dancers. But they were managing it fine, mostly paying attention to each other rather than anything around them. Nerves and embarrassment were drowned out. She was with him, they were a force together, she didn’t need any up and coming troglodytes with rich parents to send a message.

“I won’t watch the people here use you for their own gain,” he said plainly.

“I’m not some blushing ingénue, you know that,” she softened slightly.

“You’re not,” he agreed. But she was no seasoned diplomat, either.

“Are you jealous?” Her eyebrows flew up.

“Of them ?” He scoffed. “No.”

“Good,” she grinned. The type of grin he immediately knew spelled trouble for him. “My next dance may be with the patriarch of the Caldwell family,” she said, “he was very complimentary of my dress, you know. He liked the neckline a lot, judging by how he was looking at it.”

Rolan’s nostrils flared, a hot flash of anger making him grip her tighter. She was doing this on purpose, he knew, and he wasn’t some brute who had any ideas of ownership over her. However, this particular crowd was entitled, arrogant and presumptive. She wasn’t theirs, no matter how badly they wanted to put her on a shelf of important acquaintances and connections. Gods forbid some sniveling brat thought they could court and capture her.

“It is a nice dress.”

“Thanks for noticing,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve noticed little else the entire night.”

“Go on,” Tav encouraged. “It won’t kill you to compliment me.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said plainly. “Anything else to say about it is best left for later.”

“Well, you can’t say that and expect me not to ask for more.”

Rolan leaned in close, their bodies pressed tighter as he lowered his lips to her ear, “don’t be greedy, my love.”

Tav gave a small little gasp and licked her lips, and he was suddenly ten feet tall. It seemed he had flustered her, as she had no other comment to add. He felt his face slip into a smug smile, eyes pulling away from hers to glance around the room making eye contact with anyone watching them. As the music came to a halt, they offered their applause to the resident bards and then made their way back off of the dance floor.

Tav’s voice was just a pitch too high when she asked, “how much longer is this thing supposed to go on for?”

Tav looked down at the city from the terrace, her feet hurt from dancing, and she was just slightly more buzzed than she had planned to be at the start of the night. She had felt quite pretty in her dress, more lavish than anything she had ever worn before, fit specifically to her and perfectly suited to her storm magic. So many eyes on her all night had made her a bit self-conscious, it was strange having so many people come up to her and offer their accolades.

The entire night she had been grateful to have Astarion and Gale with her, both of them fit right into this part of her new life. If she ever felt overwhelmed or didn’t know what to say either one of them always did. They understood the manners and the interests of the Upper City’s population. Tav had done her best, was polite and gracious and when she felt overwhelmed she just focused on looking stoic. Whatever the hells that looked like, she had no idea, but she did her best and it seemed to have worked out.

Rolan had come off aloof and proud the entire night, but she couldn’t fault him for that. If anything she was proud of him for not snapping at anyone. More than one person had rudely alluded to their surprise at a tiefling being the new master of Ramazith’s, and that implication was more than enough for her own temper to nearly break free of her own reigns. But he had handled it all with cutting wit that never veered into outright rudeness. She had run to his rescue so often, it had taken effort not to do so even when she knew he could handle it himself.

Despite Jaheira guiding them to talk to this person or that, to be seen with the new Duchess by the right people – the entire night she had been making her way back to her mother and Lottie or Cal and Lia. As special guests of theirs they had been able to avoid having to do much work, and if anything she thought those four had the most fun.

Cal and Lia had danced with Tatianna and Lottie, ate the truly delicious food and had enough drinks that they were convinced to spend the rest of the evening at the Elfsong. People were still celebrating in the streets, she could hear music and see the small shapes of people milling about. It was less about their new Duchess and more a celebration of survival, levity as the city settled back into a sense of normalcy. It was nice to know her family and Rolan’s were down there partaking in the revelry.

Anytime she noticed a new scar or permanent ache acquired on the journey she reminded herself why it was worth it.

“It’s not too late to go join the festivities,” she heard Rolan say from behind her.

“No, I’m alright. Sometimes I just like to look.”

Rolan came up behind her, hands grabbing at her waist and kissing behind her ear. His warm breath was a sharp contrast from the slightly cool air up so high. She shivered a little, bringing her hand to his. Sharp teeth played with the skin of her ear, hot tongue tracing after, and she swallowed hard with an audible gulping sound that truly exposed his effect on her.

“Keep looking.”

His hand moved from hers to slide down the neckline of her dress, exploring the exposed skin between her breasts. Despite layers of robes and a gown between them, he was pressed tightly against her back, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. When his fingers dipped beneath her dress to grasp at her breast she gasped, fingers gripping the railing tight as she felt his free hand start to push past the slit in her skirt, pulling the fabric aside so her leg was entirely exposed.

“Rolan —“ she cautioned.

“No one can see us up here,” he assured her.

“Part of me thinks you wouldn’t mind if they could,” she breathed a little laugh.

“It is… an interesting idea,” he commented, his mouth coming to her neck, “letting the entire city see their hero fall apart for me.”

“You're on a possessive streak this evening,” she muttered, punctuated by a gasp at the feeling of him pinching her nipple between his fingers. It was making her body start to thrum with heat.

“Those nobles,” he said, the lilt of his tone becoming rough and grumbling, “they looked at you like a piece of meat.”

“I’m quite - oh,” she stumbled over her sentence when he pulled at her thigh, opening her stance and forcing her to lean slightly over the railing. “Quite popular. Everyone wants to know the Savior of the Gate.”

“They can know you, but they cannot have you. Not like this,” he replied. “Right?”

She was certain he didn’t mean to sound unsure, he probably intended to be confident, and authoritative. But she could parse out the slight taper into a whisper, the smallest hint of insecurity. Despite their new found renown and fortune, they were still a refugee orphan from a damned city and the child of an innkeeper from the middle of nowhere.

No one in those grand halls had any idea what it took to get there, at the top of the tower in clothes that cost more than their former belongings combined. They couldn’t hold a light to her wizard, powerful and self-made.

“No one can have me, but you,” she said certainly, she grabbed her skirt, hiking it up for him, “ Master Rolan. ”

If his ego needed some bolstering in the face of being talked down to by the nobility, she was happy to do it.

He gave a sharp gasp and then a soft laugh pressed into her neck, his hot mouth latching onto the skin. The hand on her thigh dipped down rubbing over her underthings. She moaned, her eyes flicking over the bodies in the street, unknowing of what was happening above them. Insistently he teased her over her clothes, the slightest roll of her hips trying to increase the pressure through the fabric.

“I’ll pay a fortune to Facemaker to keep you dressed just like this.” He muttered. “I’ll keep you in my lap, looking so pretty, wearing the most expensive gowns — my decorated hero.”

She chuckled, ready to play along, “are you going to lock me up in your big tower? Hoard me all to yourself? What will the people say?”

“I’ll let them come gaze upon you,” he hummed.

“How generous.” She smiled. Her body shivered in reaction to the slight chill of a breeze, pushing further into his heat at her back. “Would you let them see the great master of the tower get on his knees for their hero?”

Rolan bit down on her shoulder, sharp teeth digging into flesh enough to make her go limp. “Only so they know you’re the only one I’d kneel for,” he said once he’d released her skin from his teeth, tongue running along the spot where his teeth indented her skin.

“Rolan,” she whined impatiently as his nail ran over her clothed clit.

She felt him slide down, heard the rustle of fabric as he got to his knees. Her skirts in her hand, one of her tits half out of the dress, he slid her underthings down her legs. Gently he grabbed each ankle one at a time to remove them fully, what he did with them she wasn’t sure nor did she care when his hands came to her ass. He spread her wide, and she gave a shuddering breath.

The sharp teeth biting into the flesh of one of her ass cheeks made her squeal, and she nudged him with a foot.

He laughed, “couldn’t help myself, my love.”

“You’re — fuck ,” whatever casual tease she had for him flitted away when his tongue ran through the folds of her cunt.

Speaking ceased for some time as Rolan’s mouth was otherwise occupied and Tav could hardly find words worth saying. The streets below still were bustling with life when her eyes opened, none the wiser that she was above them, with Rolan’s tongue buried between her folds. He teased her entrance and traced a line up to her clit that had her panting, all while his nails dug into the flesh of her ass.

By the Gods he was a quick study, only a few short weeks and he knew which steady way to lap at her clit to have her bucking her hips and what way to caress the rest of her cunt with his tongue to keep her eager for more. The slightly muffled sounds of his mouth on her tickled her brain into a lewd haze, and each responding groan of pleasure at the way she was panting and whining had her heart pounding in her chest.

Grinding her hips back, he hummed in approval, flattening his tongue so she could use it as she needed. She felt him pulling at her slightly, helping her keep a steady rhythm to claim her pleasure. It didn’t take too long, the rough heat of his tongue making the edge come closer with each motion back and forth. When she finally hit it, her body went rigid and the movements became jerky, but he had figured out what to do then as well.

Rolan took over, teasing her clit so the waves of her orgasm went on for what felt like forever. And he refused to stop until she was twitching and frantic, almost overwhelmed and leaning dangerously over the balcony railing. A fitting death, she thought in the back of her mind, to fall over the tower's edge still pulsing from the magic of his tongue.

“Careful,” he growled, getting to his feet, tugging her backwards to a safer position.

“You chose the location,” she sighed, still thrumming.

“So the city could hear you, not so you could drop to your death,” he grumbled in reply.

“My deepest apologies, Master,” she tried to sound cheeky, to play along with the little game that had started all of this. But when it came out of her mouth it just sounded needy.

“ Zurgan ,” he hissed, his hands disappearing from her for a few short moments before she felt the blunt head of him pressing against her. “Say it again.”

A slightly hazy laugh rolled up from her throat, rich and heavy. “Please, Master Rolan, fuck me.”

The abrupt thrust that filled her with him had the words dying on her tongue with a grunt. He paused, shaking hands now on her hips and gripping too tight. Rolan had a tendency to hold her so firmly she wondered if he forgot his strength or simply was afraid of her slipping through his fingers. He could be gentle, but she had learned that when he forgot himself he gave way to desperation and raw need that made her mouth water.

It seemed tonight was one of those nights. He started out unrelenting, clothed hips smacking against her ass with a roughness that only allowed her to hold herself up on the balcony’s railing. She felt the tip of his tail tickling the skin of her leg as it wrapped around her thigh. Each grunt and groan was lost to the open air around the tower, neither of them at all concerned with being heard from this distance.

It seemed his mind was wiped off speech, not even mindless babbling could make its way out, just heavy breaths and sounds of pleasure with each push and pull of him inside of her. Her ass pressed out, the curving of her back tilting her hips so he rubbed against the spot in her that made her whisper out a curse.

A whiny moan slipped out of him, leaning over so his chest was pressed to her back. He curled an arm around her, keeping her pressed to him and grabbing her bunched skirts while his other hand came to the railing to cover one of hers. He laced their fingers, effectively pinning it to the stone edge, and she felt her heart fit to burst with the wordless gesture of affection.

“Touch yourself,” he begged.

He kept her steady, and she followed his plea, hand diving between her thighs. Her own fingers were frantic, but practiced in what would push her to another orgasm. Sensitive, brain blank with his hot panting against her ear, and spurred on by the overwhelming sensation of his ridged cock sliding in and out of her she choked a moan out. She pressed her forehead to the stone in front of her, as her legs shook when the sudden second release hit her hard.

“Yes, Gods, yes ,” Rolan panted.

She felt herself clench around him and he seemed to lose his ability to think again, only mindless rutting with increasingly short groans. There was a harsh few thrusts, before he stilled against her with a final shout. She felt him pulse inside of her, and Tav breathed out a soft laugh. He kissed her ear, the side of her face and caught his breath.

“I love you,” he sighed. “I’ll run a bath, grab more wine … just let me catch my breath.”

“Take your time,” she leaned her head into his.

“I love you.”

“You said that already.”

“Don’t care, love you.”

“I love you too, Rolan.”

Rolan had not been paying attention, but he knew he really ought to be. It was rather important, a dinner with Duchess Florrick, another member of the Council of Four and some of the members from the Parliament of Peers. The upper city was nearly finished with rebuilding thanks to internal funds, but the lower city still had stubborn areas of piled rubble, people were hurting for work and there was a heavy increase in homelessness.

For the first time since the fall of the Elder Brain, Tav had been sent out of the city on Harper business. Until only a couple weeks prior Jaheira had her working on the rebuilding efforts, and working with merchants and the harbor masters. After the departure of the last of her friends and her family, Tav had been visibly out of sorts. Throwing herself into work that drained her mentally and simply kept her busy. This first mission away had been needed, he knew, but it didn’t make it easier on him.

It had been a couple days without a word from her. Amongst his daily duties his jaw would clench tightly when he let his mind get too carried away with worry. It had been a while since she’d had to fight, what if she made a misstep? And she was used to fighting alongside people who could tap into her very thoughts; what if her team of Harpers had been out of sync and she got caught in some crossfire?

Cal and Lia were only a short distance away at any given time, he was able to breathe easy about them, but as usual his noble hero was out risking life and limb far beyond where he could help. He had promised he would find a way to deal with his tendency to overthink at the very beginning of their courtship, and he intended to. At the prospect of doing something besides trying to charm the nobility she had visibly perked up, her excitement had been palpable, and despite his excessive worrying he had made a point not to say anything about it.

His hand in his pocket fiddled with the engraving on the sending stone in his pocket, outlining the face with his thumb. Tav had the matching one, and he was barely preventing himself from activating it just to double check she was still alive on the other side. It had been a day or two since her last check in, and he was unable to focus on much else. Still, if she wasn’t checking in it could be because she was too entrenched in something to stop – if he distracted her it could be catastrophic. But if she needed help, how would he know unless he tried to get in contact with her?

“Master Rolan has a perfect view of the disparity between the two districts,” Florrick was saying, making him pay attention suddenly.

That's right. He was in the middle of very important archmage business.

“Indeed,” he said blandly. “Repairs on the lower city have all but stopped, meanwhile new imports of materials are carted through Heapside everyday into the Upper City. We still have an alarming amount of people whose homes were destroyed, still living in the temples or on the streets.”

The charm of being important enough to be attending these gatherings had worn off. At his first Tav had steadied his shaking hand before he set off, not commenting on his nerves, but simply kissing him on the cheek and telling him she’d be waiting on his return. Now it was rather tedious that they had the same conversations every time; the upper city had taken the brunt of the damage, but the lower city was not to be ignored in the recovery.

“I'm sure the residents of the Upper City would be willing to be more generous if the remaining Savior of the Gate who lives here would be willing to make more appearances. Not to mention the Master of Ramazith’s tower.” Duke Exeltis said.

As Rolan understood it, from Jaheira’s estimation, Exiltis had a lot to prove. He had replaced a duchess which had ousted her predecessor and was an agent of the Absolute, a new name in the seat of the Council of Four besides Florrick was not common. He wanted the Upper City’s support. There were several unopened invitations to both him and Tav to different dinner parties and galas that neither of them had any interest in.

“The Savior of the Gate is a busy woman,” Rolan clenched his hand around the sending stone in his pocket. “Making the nobles feel important is low on our list of priorities.”

“You are new to your position, and to this city,” Exeltis snarled, “so I will forgive your ignorance. The more you snub the leading families, the less inclined they are to acquiesce to your requests, they find you both arrogant and too proud to admit you need their support.”

“We have the Lower City’s support,” Rolan felt his own hackles rising, he really was not a diplomat , and his patience was disappearing quickly. “Perhaps if you weren’t ignorant to how much you need their support your attempt at being elected Grand Duke wouldn’t have failed.”

“How dare you —“

“Master Rolan, Duke Exeltis, please,” Florrick intervened. “Unity between the upper and lower city is what we need. I brought you all here to find a solution, not brew further division.”

“If I may,” said one of the Parliament members, Dlusker who was, as far as Nobles went, tolerable to Rolan. “Perhaps a noble family could attempt to bridge the gap. A fundraising event, for the Lower City’s benefit. My family would be happy to host, and Tavryna could attend as a guest of honor.”

Rolan had changed his mind: Dlusker was far from tolerable. Every noble that wanted to make it seem like they were close allies with Tav always used her full name, finding the shortened version mundane and lacking gravitas. She was just Tav to everyone who mattered, had never introduced herself as otherwise. And he was tired of them trying to parade them both around like prized show dogs.

Exeltis was still fuming, but he had figured out how to get under Rolan’s skin. “A fine idea,” he said snidely. “It’s a perfect opportunity to unveil the new statue of the Saviors in the square.”

“An egregious waste of money that Tav has said repeatedly she had no interest in,” Rolan grumbled.

“A fundraiser is a start.” Florrick nodded, “a good way to show the Lower City they haven’t been forgotten.”

“Yes, I’m sure reading about the lavish ball thrown by the Dlusker’s in the gazette will be of comfort,” Rolan bit out. “They can enjoy all the details of what imported silk Duke Caldwell was wearing over a lovely breakfast of stale bread in their all but demolished homes.”

“Rolan,” Florrick shot him a look. “If you have a better idea, I’d like to hear it. I brought you into this discussion for your input, not to watch you and Exeltis come to blows.”

The problem was that even after the Elderbrain, the nobles had holed themselves up in Wyrm’s Crossing, sending their families away while rebuilding happened. They never set foot in the Lower City, except to campaign for seats in the new Council of Four or Parliament. A fundraiser was well and good, but it still felt like a hollow grab for good press. If they wanted unity the city needed to mingle.

Rolan had an idea, he hated it, but it was something.

“Ramazith’s Tower will host the fundraiser. A public event in Bloomridge Park.” He said, regretting the words as he spoke them.

“Public?” Exeltis scoffed.

“Yes,” Rolan said slowly. “If you need to be reminded of the definition of unity, it means to be joined as a whole . Upper city and lower city residents, together, raising funds for the most vulnerable in The Gate.”

“And how does this appease the nobility?” Exeltis asked.

“Highest donors get access to a banquet hosted at the tower, which will be attended by its master and guest of honor: The Savior of the Gate.”

“And she will agree to this?” Florrick asked.

He had a headache already, not trying to hide his irritation as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt bad about promising Tav to them like this, but as he was constantly reminded: they had many responsibilities now. Something needed to be done, as rebuilding in the Lower City had all but ceased. People were still going hungry, were still homeless and jobless. There was only so much he and Tav could do with the funds from the shop alone.

“If you can guarantee that the Lower City will finally see some aid, I will make sure she will be in attendance.”

If he was honest, she would do it just because he asked. If that weren’t enough, she would certainly be onboard because it could possibly do some good. His Tav was always willing and ready to do what she could to help. Hosting an event with him and attending a stuffy dinner with nobles would be nothing to her. But he wasn’t going to let the sharks at the table ruthlessly dive for Tav’s bleeding heart, if this had to be done, he would make sure it was on his terms. The terms in which Tav was safe from promising too much for too little in return, and safe from being taken advantage of.

She had stood between him and the Shadowcursed Lands; he could stand between her and the ambitious nobility.

“The families will be generous,” Exeltis finally said, “they are not the cruel caricatures you think they are.”

“That remains to be seen,” Rolan deadpanned, “I hope they prove me wrong.”

Baldur’s Gate was coming quickly into view. Tav turned to her group, all of them still intact give or take a few cuts and a wrapped arm. Geraldus glanced at her with a smile, before going back to his conversation. Jaheira had placed him under her command for this journey to ‘rebuild’ his confidence, and Tav would be happy to report he was turning out to be a fine second in command.

Her first journey for the Harper’s had been a success. It was simple, nothing more than pushing back against some Thayans that had taken up residence along the coast. Baldur’s Gate was still weak, the threat of an infiltration was always under the surface, and for now Tav and her team had stemmed the attempt.

She was bruised and cut up, but she was pleased with herself. After Gale and Astarion left for Waterdeep, her mother and sister had gone home soon after. For the first time in a while, Tav was without any of her companions or her family, who until recently had been the closest to her in her entire life. It felt strange and new, both exciting and deeply heartbreaking.

The comfort of her remaining friends, along with Cal, Lia and Rolan had softened the blow quite a bit, but it was an adjustment. Jaheira had been having her oversee the rebuilding, or working with Nine Fingers to ensure a huge crime wave didn’t overtake the city while it was vulnerable. Not to mention giving her council on how to gather and manage her own web of informants amongst her new friends and allies from the fight against the Absolute.

As they made it through Rivington, the rest of the journey was to be done through Harper channels. They got off of the cart they had hired and made their way under the bridge to row in on a small rowboat. Once in the city, most of the Harper’s went their own way, her and Geraldus stayed behind to debrief Jaheira.

The walk to the tower was long, and she was tired and excited to see Cal and Lia. A good part of her time away had been spent missing her and Rolan’s bed, his warm body next to her as she slept and the gentle kiss to her forehead he gave every morning when he inevitably woke before her. Most days she woke up just enough to smile at him before slipping back to sleep, other days she whined and tugged him back to bed despite his insistence he had to start the day. She was very excited at the prospect of a good night’s sleep in their bed.

Sorcerous Sundries was busy, loud and full of summons as usual. She dodged a splatter from the lava elemental easily, and came up to the counter where Cal and Lia were going over the books.

“Welcome to Sorcerous Sundries!” Rolan’s projection began.

“You’d think he’d enchant this thing to recognize me,” Tav shook her head, ignoring the continuing speech from the slightly transparent apparition of her lover.

“You’re back!” Lia grinned as she came around the counter. “Welcome home.”

“Thank the gods, he’s been unbearable,” Cal muttered as he wrapped Tav in a tight hug.

“Sulking, is he?”

“More than sulking. You’re in so much trouble,” Lia smiled mischievously.

“What could I possibly have done?” Tav said, “I’ve been gone for two weeks.”

“You haven’t been checking in!” Cal said, sounding like he was also ready to scold her. “He’s been worried sick.”

“Oh, great,” she sighed.

“He’s upstairs, we have work to do,” Lia waved her away as a customer came up to the counter. “Dinner at the Elfsong, don’t forget, you two can’t hole up there all night.”

“Okay, okay,” Tav shook her head.

She needed a bath and a nap before braving the Elfsong. It was rowdy on a slow night, chaotically loud on a busy one. She made her way up the stairs and past the enchanted suit of armor that guarded the door to the new portals. First she had to see her beloved, grump of a wizard and assure him she didn’t need to check in once a day.

In the study, Rolan was at his desk. He seemed very intent on his work, so much so that he didn’t look up when the portal spat her out with its usual signaling sound. There were mountains of paperwork, more than she had ever seen before, and she wondered how he had time to be so sulky when he was this busy.

“Lia, there’s too much preparation to do, no more distractions. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Tav crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll just see myself out then.”

His head snapped up. If she was honest with herself, she had imagined this reunion. It was only a short time they were separated but it was longer than they had been apart since the fall of the Elderbrain. At night in her bedroll, she had let herself fall asleep to visions of him grinning at the sight of her, dropping everything he was doing to kiss her or take her into his arms. Fanciful and silly, absolutely, something he would certainly tease her about if he ever knew. But even though she knew it would not be some grand thing like in a storybook, she hadn’t expected him to look so angry.

“You.” He said sternly.

“Me?”

“You have a sending stone for a reason,” he stood and made his way around the desk, “it’s been days. I didn’t even know you were on your way back!”

“Rolan, I just got home, don’t —“ she stopped when his hand came gently to her chin, and tilted her face up. He looked her over, amber eyes discerning. “What are you doing?”

“What’s this from?” He thumbed softly over a scabbed cut on her cheek.

“Telekinesis spell threw me straight into a bramble,” she said. “Our cleric got most of it, but,” she shrugged, “can’t waste all the magic once it’s just a few cuts.”

“Anywhere else?”

Tav smiled a little as he visibly tried to calm himself down despite his frustration with her. She shrugged off her coat, showing matching scratches, small and mostly harmless all over her arms. “It was a pretty big bramble,” she admitted sheepishly.

Rolan took a very slow, very deep breath, eyes closed. “You have to be careful.”

“I know, love,” she placated, her hands coming up to cup his face. “I saved the world once, a bramble isn’t going to get the best of me.”

“I’m sorry,” he put his hands on hers. “I’ve been so — it’s an adjustment. I’m not used to it yet. I like it when you’re here, not risking your life.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” she promised.

He frowned, he had done the same when she had said those words to him before leaving. A hard promise to keep, she knew, but she intended to make it anytime she left for Harper business.

“Next time just, please, use the sending stone.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded, “if you try to have a little more faith in your gallant hero.” Gently she pulled him and pressed her lips to his, “you’re such a grump.”

Rolan didn’t have a response, just kissed her again. Her lips, her cut cheek, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in to kiss the top of her head when she melted into him. He took a deep breath, and then spoke, she could hear the smile on his lips.

“You need to bathe,” he muttered.

“And you need a break.”

He sighed. “I can’t. We’re hosting a fundraiser for the lower city.”

“Oh,” she raised her eyebrows, “are we?”

“Yes,” he shook his head. “I’ll give you the details — it’s the only way the nobles will even try to be involved. Exeltis is an arse, Florrick’s too diplomatic and Dlusker just wants to be socially relevant — there’s so much to plan, I’ve never even thrown a party let alone an event this size —“

“I’m here now,” she shook her head. “We will figure it out.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have signed you up for this, but you didn’t check in and I thought you might need to focus or there might be trouble,” he frowned.

“I’ll do anything you need.” She assured him.

“I know,” he winced. “That’s the problem.”

“Not a problem,” she laughed. “I’ll forgive you if you come upstairs with me. We have a big beautiful bathtub and I’ve missed you terribly.”

Rolan looked like he wanted to protest.

“Rolan, I’ve been away for two weeks – take a break with me.” She pouted dramatically, “you’re not going to leave me naked, wet and all alone up there, are you?”

“That would be absolutely unforgivable of me,” he said, fighting a smile.

A whoosh and a clank, and one of the enchanted suits of armor stumbled through the portal. It ambled its way over to them, a letter in hand, holding it out to Tav. She took it, looking at the scrawling writing of her name. Not anyone’s handwriting she recognized.

“Must be urgent if they sent him up,” Tav said distractedly as she opened it, her eyes flicking over the lines of script.

“Bad news?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s from Withers.”

Rolan shook his head, “come on, Hero, you were just promising me a bath with my beloved who has been gone for two weeks.”

Tav tore her eyes away. “Right, of course, sorry.”

She tucked the letter away, letting it drift to the back of her mind for now. She went to walk out of the study, but Rolan grabbed her and with a blink and a tug of the weave she felt herself thrust through dimensions and suddenly in the bathroom.

“Wasteful use of a spell, Master Rolan, we have perfectly fine feet to walk on.”

“What’s the point of being a wizard if I can’t get you into my room and naked as fast as possible.”

Tav shook her head with a laugh and kissed him again. It was good to be home.

Fin.

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me!

#rolan x tav #holy rolan empire #bg3 fanfiction #rolan smut #olly writes

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

Wonderland

Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

Summary: In a kingdom where a Maiden is forced to be sacrificed to appease the monster in the woods, Elain Archeron is chosen out of spite by her spurned suitor, Graysen. Trapped in a tower with her beast, Elain must unravel if she can truly trust the monster promising not to hurt. She doesn't know he's freed every maiden he's ever been sent...but her? Her, he intends to keep.

Read More: AO3

13k words

WARNING: MONSTER/ Breeding kink/ONLY ONE BED???

Prompt given to me by the incomparable @elains who is responsible for honest, a lot of fics I've written and does not get enough credit for it. I like the way her mind works. She is my muse.

A proper, well-bred lady never said no if she could help it. She danced, delicately, around the harshness, offered solutions and perhaps compromise. But never a no. To say no was ugly, was rude, was hardly lady-like at all. And Elain Archeron, middle daughter to the Archeron estate, absolutely considered herself a lady. She’d been trying to maintain her manners, to adhere to social decorum. To politely reject a suitor without making him think it had been anything but his idea.

Graysen Nolan refused to hear every polite another time and oh I couldn’t possibly until Elain was left with no other words that might convey how she felt. Standing in a fine cerulean gown among the swaying lilacs and roses of the garden, Elain looked upon Graysen with no small amount of horror. He’d bent on knee, his moody brown eyes glinting not with hope but acquisition. All three of Archeron’s daughters were unmarried and the man himself was dead. No one but a steward managed them.

Any husband could take over and make himself far wealthier than he’d ever dreamed. While Feyre and Nesta Archeron—youngest and oldest, respectively—had managed to keep the door firmly shut and their wealth firmly in their hands. Elain took a breath. She’d liked Graysen. He was from a respectable family, had wealth of his own. He would be reasonable.

And so Elain did what she’d been taught her whole life not to. She said, “No.”

Graysen blinked, the wind rustling his perfect brown hair over his forehead. “I’m sorry?” “I can’t marry you,” Elain told him, careful to keep her voice pleasant.

“Why not?” he asked, rising from the paved path that wound over the stretching acres of garden and grass. Elain didn’t dare look at his white breeches with their now dirt stained knees or note how it was a near match for his buttoned brown coat.

“I don’t love you,” she pressed forward, cringing with discomfort. “I tried—” Graysen scoffed. “What does love have to do with marriage?”

“Everything?” she asked, suddenly feeling foolish. She’d been raised to believe a marriage was filled with love and only the unfortunate were trapped otherwise. With her father gone and no chance of being forced into a political arrangement, Elain wanted nothing less.

“You’ll regret this when you’re an old maid,” he warned, pointing his finger at her face. Elain didn’t dare move though the gesture scared her. Up until that point, Elain had been happy to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he didn’t recognize the social cues of he’d just hoped she would change her mind. Now, beneath a cloudy afternoon sky, Elain was certain Graysen just hadn’t cared. Strutting away like he was royalty, Elain exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

Elain didn’t expect Graysen to make good on his threat. It was an intangible threat, something men said when spurned to try and make women second guess themselves. He could walk away with some of his pride, confident that Elain would never marry and had missed her chance. Perhaps he’d warn away other suitors, too. She’d seen that happen on occasion.

Elain had not expected a knock on the front door the next morning. She’d just come down for breakfast when Nesta, dressed in silver, pulled open those heavy, ancient doors. Elain froze at the sight of the kings guard, surrounded by five men all wearing the same heavy metal armor, the same purple feathered helmets, the same grim looks.

“What?” Nesta demanded, her spine utterly straight. That man—as old as her father had been before he died—-peered into the home. Did he see the carved pillars and marble and art? Or did he see the three of them alone? “I’m here for Elain Archeron,” he said, handing over that heavy paper scroll. Elain’s legs nearly abandoned her on that staircase, dragging her kicking and screaming back to the ground. Nesta, unaware Elain was just behind her, pulled open the twine, silvery blue eyes scanning the document.

“This is absurd—” “Kings orders. All maidens are chosen at random, Lady Archeron.” Elain knew that wasn’t true. How Graysen had managed to make good on his final word, to truly make her regret telling him no, Elain was unsure. She took a hesitant step down, drawing their attention to her. Each year, on the longest day, a maiden was sacrificed to the monster in the woods. It was an appeasement to keep the beast from prowling their villages and cities. No one knew who would be chosen. It was random, or so the king said though there was clearly a willingness to play favorites. She half wondered if the scroll didn’t have some other woman’s name hastily crossed off and hers added.

“Absolutely not,” Nesta snapped even as the guard shoved his way past, one hand resting on his sword. Elain met them at the bottom of the steps, trembling so hard she could hardly stand. All six soldiers peered at her with eyes that told her they knew she’d been a last minute choice. Did they wonder why? Or perhaps this was just how things were done. The aristocratic men chose which woman they felt had wronged them and sent her fleeing to her death.

“The golden wood is a day's journey from here,” the guard told her almost pityingly. “Say your goodbyes now.”

“She’s not going!” Nesta insisted. “FEYRE!”

Five swords were drawn in tandem, forcing Elain forward. “I’ll go, I…don’t hurt them.” “She’s not going,” Nesta tried again but heavy gloved hands were already wrapped around her arm. “You can’t have her.” “Then the beast will have us all,” the guard intoned. It hadn’t happened in centuries but Elain knew the stories of his terrible fire, of a beast who ate babies straight from their mothers arms before laying waste to entire villages just for fun. A creature made of scales and claws, who could take to the sky looking for a bride he would later devour. It was a great warrior who had beaten him into those woods, who had struck that bargain between them. One maiden for the entire year in exchange for peace.

The monster hadn’t violated his end yet and only that knowledge—of what he might do if she refused—propelled Elain forward. “It’s fine,” she lied, letting them drag her from the open foyer beneath the iron chandelier to the humidity of early morning. There was no sun, only a cloud packed with fluffy, furious clouds. It smelled of rain, of the ruin, of death.

There would be no nice carriage ride. Elain knew this when she saw that wooden bars attacked the wagon, pulled by a team of snow white horses. Iron bars allowed for air and light, allowed every person on the path between here and the golden wood to know who would be sacrificed so they could rest well. At night, a celebration would occur. Another year of peace.

Irons were put on her wrists, clamped so tight she could feel the hinges pinch her skin. Nesta, joined by Feyre, argued loudly with the guard even when his men shoved her into the back of the wagon.” “I hear death is slow,” one of the soldiers murmured before closing the door. “I hear he fucks you first.”

Elain couldn’t breathe as that door slammed shut. The sound of the locking key silenced even her sisters, doomed to watch helplessly. Elain memorized their faces in the moments after, willing herself not to cry. She forced herself to smile because what else was there? Nesta and Feyre would come after her if they thought they could. She didn’t want all three of them to become casualties in Graysen’s vendetta. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing them all.

The wagon lurched, jolting Elain to the floor. There was nowhere to sit, the box nearly as tall as she was and standing room only. It had the faintest scent of urine to it though she didn’t ponder that one. Carefully, she clambered back to her feet, reaching for the bars to keep herself upright.

She didn’t live in one of the tiny towns that dotted their kingdom or any of the seaside villages. Elain lived in the largest city of Wallen, just outside the city center itself on ancestral lands gifted by the king himself. The same king who had signed her death warrant, who watched from the square along with everyone else, drawn from their houses to see whose unlikely daughter had been chosen.

Graysen, too, was there, grinning ear to ear in a white buttoned coat and black slacks. Elain stared back unflinching until his smile slipped, betraying his uncertainty. If he wanted a way into their family's fortune, she’d been his safest bet. Now she was rolling towards doom. Nesta and Feyre would put it together, would realize who had made this happen. Elain would be avenged eventually.

The thought soothed her just long enough to truly look upon the king. Dark haired and old, draped in violet not unlike the feathers in the helmets of his soldiers. Beside him was his son,the crown prince wearing funeral attire. Black and silver instead of white and gold. Their eyes met and Elain recognized the apology in his gaze. He didn’t want this, for all it mattered. Elain inclined her head.

It’s not your fault.

It had to be done. Someone had to make that rickety ride. Would they dump her at the edge? Would the beast be waiting with its terrible, rotting teeth and jagged, flesh ripping claws? Or perhaps the soldier was right and he would brutalize her in other ways first, prolonging her suffering. There was time to think about it. They left the city for rolling hills and endless villages, its people lined along cobblestone streets to look at her. There was plenty of pity and regret—mainly from women too old to be chosen any longer. As if they remembered the fear and perhaps, the friends and sisters they, too, had lost. Men leered, drawn to the irrefutable knowledge that she was untouched. Something about a virgin made men prone to violence. Elain had never quite understood why.

It was exhausting to stand as long as she did and yet sitting was defeat. It was fear, it was acknowledging what was waiting, even when those treetops appeared far in the distance. Elain couldn’t look at places or faces any longer. She’d never once seen the woodland, had only heard stories of its beauty. No gold light, despite its name and as they approached, the sky rumbled threateningly. Golden forest must be a joke, she thought, noting how the entire place was bathed in shadow. Gnarled trunks seemed to sway, their branches great, gaping hands reaching for her. The wagon halted, smashing her face against the bars…not that they cared.

It was the guard who came, unlocking the door and gesturing for her. “Should I run?” she asked when her feet touched the pebbled road. He shook his head with more of that heavy regret. He shook his helmeted head, holding the chain between her manacles to walk her into the forest.

“There is a place…this is for the best,” he managed, glancing around him as if he knew very well this was not for the best. Elain could only walk, tripping over every stick and pebble until her whole body ached and her soft shoes were half filled with rocks. It seemed impossible that any light could possibly penetrate this place, making it seem more sinister. It smelled of moss and rot and the air was somehow cold and heavy. It was as if a hand pressed against her, shoving her to the ground.

She understood what he’d meant when he said this is for the best. A terrifying iron tower loomed over the treetops, its black facade blurring against the trees until she stood in front of it. The guard pulled a twisted key from his pocket to open another door, one Elain knew she would never see opened again. Inside, warped, narrow stairs circled to the very top with nothing but the occasional window for air, so small she couldn’t even throw herself from it. All she could do was march up each new step, the guard just behind her.

The top was wider, allowing her to enter through a swinging trap door. Climbing throug, she found a terrifying room that made her halt entirely. The majority of the space was sucked up by a huge, four poster bed draped in absurd gold. A little, unused chair held a blanket and a book, not that it mattered. Elain was all but pushed to the bed, the chain between her manacles attached to a huge, iron ring against the wooden headboard.

“Please,” she whispered, heart beating so hard she could taste metallic blood in her mouth. “Please let me go.”

He shook his head. “Don’t beg. It only makes this worse.”

She hadn’t expected to be chained to a bed, though. She’d imagined running through the woods and rot below, had let herself daydream of escape. They’d known, then. She hadn’t been the first to consider the possibilities, to try and get out of this. The guard pocketed his key, swept one last look over her in her pink dress tied at the waist with a white sash, before slamming that door shut entirely.

Elain listened to his steps echoing off the stone, lips pressed together to keep herself from screaming. The heavy door sealed her in, slamming so hard she felt it reverberate against the wood at her back. Elain yanked and wrenched and pulled until she sliced the skin of her wrists, sending blood dripping down her arms. The angle was painful, forcing her to sit completely straight, arms unable to relax at all.

She didn’t sleep, even when the sun eventually set, twisting over and over despite the blood, the fear, the certainty of death. It was coming on swift, furious wings, trumpeted by a furious, roaring snarl in the distance. It stilled her raging heart, robbing her of breath. Elain had ignored the massive open window and the half circle balcony. There was no point in hoping for escape when she could hardly scale down. She should have given it more consideration when the beast of legend came careening towards it with massive, gold and orange scaled wings. He bellowed furiously to the world around them, blowing an arc of fire somewhere below. Whatever drew his rage was going to be turned on her. She hoped the beast, with its terrible steel tipped claws, devoured her quickly.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding, the sound drawing his head. He wasn’t so large he couldn’t get inside. The beast snuffed a hot breath, its russet eyes shifting to gold as they whirred over her with curiosity and surprise. Had the beast forgotten? Was she an unexpected but welcome gift? Elain bit her bottom lip so hard she bled as it approached, talons clicking on the iron floor beneath them. She turned her head as far as she could, arching her neck to escape his breath and his interest.

The chain overhead ripped from the wall, freeing her from the painful hold against the bed. Her wrists were still manacled, though she could stretch them at last, pulling her arms apart now that the steel that had once bound her was no more.

The beast peered before groaning loudly, twisting his head towards his belly. On trembling legs, he backed away warily, guarding that curious, bleeding wound. She ought to have run. It was her first thought. The door at the bottom was still locked. She’d end up right back where she started or worse, trapped in a small, narrow stairwell with a fire breathing monster just overhead.

Elain cleared her throat, not daring to approach as she slithered off the bed. He was curled up in on himself, spiked tail tucked against his broad, pointed snout. Elain held up her palms. “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, her voice laced with fear. Russet eyes followed her careful movements, waiting for her to betray the lie or trick. He was going to kill her, she reminded herself. It was foolish to prolong her own suffering for the good of this beast and yet the first thing it had done, in spite of the furious lanced spear in its scaled underbelly, had been to free her. It was some measure of kindness, she decided as she studied his face. There, just beneath those gleaming scales and blazing eyes was the barest hint of fear.

“I’m scared too,” Elain whispered as she inched towards him. He raised his head at her words, head inclined as if to ask why?

“Promise you won’t eat me,” she ordered, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating from him. An amused huff of steam was her response. He pulled his tail away from his wound so Elain could look at it. Someone had clearly thought to bring him down, jamming a wooden spear into his stomach. He turned to the shrapnel, opening his massive maw to demonstrate how he could not pull it out.

“It’s going to hurt,” she said, wrapping a hand around the rough handle. “You might die.” Steely eyes were her only response. Elain steadied herself, heart pounding against her ribs so hard she could feel the reverberation in her bones. With two hands, Elain ripped it from his surprisingly soft body. The monster snarled and Elain went skittering backwards, arms raised over her head to keep from being injured. She crouched against the wall, not daring to look for several agonizing seconds. No bite of teeth, no scorch of fire…only the sound of a tongue quietly lapping the wound. Elain looked up, knees to her chest, hand pressed against her mouth, to find the beast literally licking his wound without a care in the world. He bled red, just like she did, dripping against the floor. Unlike her, his wound was knitting itself back together until only fresh gold scales remained, unstained from the wound.

She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath, to calm down a little. Though massive and built for war, the beast curled up on the floor seemed more like a housecat than anything. He looked up at her with his amused eyes.

“Are you going to let me go?” she dared to ask. He huffed again, ruffling his wings. She blinked, unable to catch the shift in the air, a metallic tang invading her senses. She screamed again—not at the beast, which should have been laying in the cooling pool of blood, but at the very naked man now standing in front of her. He wasn’t a man, though, or at least, not entirely. Men had normal skin, normal eyes…this man was still edged in orange and gold, gilded along his thighs and shins and forearms. Those soft scales snaked over the side of his taut abdomen, up his neck and over the side of his face, plunging into the most vivid red hair she’d ever seen. It was like someone had painted him gold, had inked it against his skin.

Elain was fixated on his face which, to his credit, was also staring at her like he’d never seen a woman in his life. He was stunning, so beautiful it made her forget she was supposed to be afraid of him, if only for a moment. A soft, full mouth, high cheekbones, chiseled jaw and the same russet eyes that watched from before. He pressed a broad, large hand against his bare stomach which, too late, reminded Elain he was naked. Utterly, blessedly naked with a heavy, swinging penis between his legs…strangely half covered in the same gold as the rest of him. Elain’s eyes shot back to his face—she shouldn’t have looked—noting that where there wasn’t the winding ink of gold there was merely bronzed brown skin. He could have been human were it not for his ethereal beauty and the painted gold against his skin.

He cleared his throat. “No.” His voice was vibrant and rich, smooth and dark. She blinked. No? He padded towards her as she desperately tried to look only at his face despite her burning curiosity. She’d heard stories of what men kept between their legs and how they could use it. A sword, the ladies all joked. Elain had assumed it was an exaggeration but perhaps not.

The beast crouched in front of her, nostrils flaring as if he were smelling her. Muscular arms braced on equally muscular legs, he said, “I’m not letting you go.”

Oh. Elain blinked, reality crashing around her. Oh. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Will you kill me?”

He didn’t react to her words at all. “No.” “Where are the others?”

He cocked his head. “Others?”

“The other women…they’re sent every year.”

Some haze settled over his features. “They’re gone.”

Elain pressed her hand back over her mouth, shaking with revulsion. Gone. She looked up at the pointed ceiling, tears slipping down her face. The monster wasn’t concerned with her fear, reaching for her bruised wrists to examine the torn flesh beneath the manacles. He slid his long fingers beneath and pulled until she could see every vein in his arm straining at the effort. She gasped when the first broke apart, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He held her arm, peering at her wounds with that same blank fascination. It was Elain who felt horror when he lifted her wrist to his mouth so he could inhale her.

“Stop that,” she whispered, yanking her hand back. Surprise flickered over his features but he released her all the same in favor of her other manacled wrist. It took another moment of prying and straining before the chains that held her lay useless on the floor between them.

“I hate those,” he murmured.

“I would think it would be easier,” she whispered as he stood. Elain turned her face away from him, not because he frightened her but because his penis was now inches from her face. He turned, tight ass on display, and walked towards the window. “Easier how?” he asked, raking his fingers through shoulder length hair.

“Less of a struggle when you eat me?” she guessed. He turned fully again, amusement bright on his face.

“I’m not going to eat you, human. The stories they tell are so amusing.” Elain stood too, palms flat against the wall. “Then what are you planning to do with me?” she asked. He went to the balcony, head titled towards a star freckled sky.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked instead.

“You were hurt,” she replied. “And it would have been cowardly, I suppose.

“Humans are cowards by nature,” he replied with just a hint of bitterness coating his words. “Not you, though. You could have killed me and escaped.”

There was nothing she could say to that. Elain knew there was no escape without help. She’d heard the door lock.

“What is your name?”

Their eyes met, passing something between them. She thought, if she spoke her name out loud, he might already know it. She had the same sense. “Elain.”

His eyes fluttered shut, skin rippling and shifting. Huge silver tipped talons began to slide over his hands, his skin shimmering with scales.

“What’s yours?!” she asked when it became obvious he was going to take off into the night again. He rolled his head over his neck to look at her. “No one has asked me that in a long, long time. My name is Lucien.” She blinked and gone was the man, replaced by the uninjured dragon. He watched her for only a moment before hopping to the ledge of the balcony, wings outstretched.

And vanished into the night.

Lucien:

Mate.

Lucien soared through the air, his thoughts a whirling jumble. The human was his mate. Not the way his kind used to experience mates—a threaded, golden cord that attached two souls but similar. Her scent betrayed her, was a song to his senses. He might have been fascinated regardless—no human would have helped him when she reeked of fear as strongly as his mate did. They ran, they cried, they occasionally peed on the floor. Not that he’d ever shown up injured before. Something had enraged some of the human men enough to come looking, to provoke him. Lucien assumed whoever the female they’d left must be a heinous creature even the humans would not mourn. They’d egged him on, taunting to go get her, to enjoy himself. Vent his rage, he supposed.

He’d forgotten the day until he found that spear in his gut. He had flown home, angry with the males and curious about the female. They sent, without fault, virgins. Trembling, inexperienced virgins. After centuries, it felt sick. His father had enjoyed it but Beron was dead. Lucien was what was left in this wretched world, his people hunted to extinction by greedy, ugly humans. He did as he was demanded, staying in the woods, tethered to this place he hated, if only to buy himself some peace.

And he freed their maidens. Over the sea, a half days flight for him though a long week for a ship, Lucien dropped the females off on the rocky shores without so much as a goodbye. He understood that place was safer, at least for females. Perhaps not for him. He was unwilling to risk himself when he was all that was left.

Centuries of being alone, of hoping he’d find another like him that he might pass his line onto, only to find that sweetness lingering in a human female. It had infuriated him—chained to a bed, trembling in fear. Lucien had never shown any of the humans his mortal form. It was too dangerous. If the males found out, they might capture him, might force him to shift and kill him, too. It was better they thought him only a monster capable of terrible atrocities.

And yet for her, the female who wore his scent, who smelled so lovely and fertile despite her fear…he had to show her. It had calmed her, had settled her scent enough that he could drink her in, could confirm what he knew the moment he’d burst into that tower to see the evil that haunted the males.

Soft. It had been his very first thought. She was little more than a sweet, soft fawn and whatever crime they imagined of her, Lucien was certain she wasn’t capable of it. Those eyes—wide and liquid and brown—had settled him, too. He’d meant to rage and bellow and blow smoke until he worked out that piece of shrapnel and one look at her had calmed him enough to lay still so she could pull it out.

His mate would need to be protected. If the human males were angry, they’d come looking eventually, if only to see what he’d done with her. They always did in the Autumn months, searching for pieces of a body, chuckling with they found nothing at all. He watched with loathing. He had no females of his kind left and felt immense distaste for how the humans treated their own. Disposable. The agreement with Beron never required virgin females—only human flesh. It was the males who immediately twisted the tales to benefit them best, to terrify their females into marrying too young, to having sex before they wanted. Anything to keep them from being a sacrifice.

This female would not go to those warm western shores. She would stay with him, at least until he found a safer nest for them. For now, though, he knew she would need things. More than just the one book from the last one. She’d been hard to calm, didn’t understand she needed to get on his back. The book had been a peace offering, a show of good faith.

He wanted to see her, too. He didn’t like leaving her unguarded, not when the males had been in the forest with their weapons. She was too soft. Unscaled, without magic or fire or anything that might protect her from harm. She would only become more vulnerable when she was with child, swollen and heavy and completely at the mercy of whoever found her. Lucien would have to find higher ground, somewhere, perhaps, in the mountains where even the males wouldn’t dare to tread.

He snuffed a breath of fire, frustrated with himself. Problems. He had too many problems. Humans were not equipped for frigid, snow capped peaks and rocky outcrops. She needed constant food and water and shelter and warmth. If he left her, she might freeze. If he brought her with him, someone would realize he had a mate that could be harmed. If he left her in the tower, eventually a new female would be brought and the males would know he’d kept one to breed with.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

One thing at a time. She’d need to eat. He’d taken one look at her in the dress and decided she was too thin. She seemed tired, but hunger was easier to solve. All the females showed up thirsty and hungry and Lucien knew exactly where to go to steal supplies. Especially this night, when the humans were all drunk in the streets. He could raid multiple villages for food and clothes and other necessities he assumed she’d need. It forced him to shift into a male, to creep through those houses, and take whatever might make their temporary nest appealing. More blankets and clothes that he thought she might like, little trinkets because Lucien’s people had always been attracted to things that shined and he hoped she was too.

Food and alcohol, soaps and perfumes, on and on until he had too many bags he had to carry in his mouth. She was waiting on the balcony when the tower came into view, hair swept over her shoulder, her honeyed scent blowing on the breeze. He had to suppress a growl at the instinct to hide her away—any male might scent her and try and take her for himself. Lucien had to remind himself there were no males left to take her. Only humans, with their dull sense of smell and their repressed instincts.

She skittered back when he came into view, fear mingling against jasmine. He hated that. She didn’t know, didn’t understand what mates meant. The humans had all but beaten it out of her over centuries of quick breeding. They didn’t remember they, too, had one been animals, that the split between Lucien’s kind and hers had been deliberate and not some act of nature. Humans imagined themselves more civilized but Lucien remembered the truth, the stories passed down from his father to him. They’d once been one—some had his abilities and others did not, but they’d all belonged to the same race before the humans broke off, determined to distance themselves. Now they had no magic at all and, perhaps most cruelly, no memory of what they’d once been.

Elain looked at the items scattered about the floor, reaching for a rolling orange that spilled from one of his bags. “Did you bring me things?”

He was still a beast so he could only huff a response, watching her carefully. Did it please her? A pleased mate was the first step in the courting ritual, after all. Her fingernails dug against the skin of the orange, arms still coated in dried blood. The sight infuriated him, prompting him to shift back to his mortal form if only to ask, “Name the humans who harmed you.”

She fell backwards, her surprise knocking the fruit from her hands. “What?” she breathed, fear thick in the air. Lucien strode towards her, reaching for her arm as she turned her face. He forced her to look, pushing her wrist to her face.

“The humans who hurt you. Tell me who they were.” “Why?”

“So I can hunt them down–” “No,” she breathed, swallowing hard. “No, I can’t…” “You would protect the males who hurt you?” he demanded, his anger causing his vision to shift red for a moment. “Maybe I will simply destroy the villages, then, if you won’t give me a name—” “Lucien,” she whispered, looking him in the eye. All at once, his anger evaporated. He was lost, if only for a moment, in her soft eyes. “No more death. Not tonight.” No one was dead. He wanted to tell her that. He hadn’t harmed anyone and she was safe. He could smell her dread, knew she was waiting for him to snap her up and eat her for dinner. He released her, almost ashamed though it was not him who had started those rumors. She didn’t know, he reminded himself.

“Does this please you?” he asked instead, gesturing to the things he’d brought her. She reached for her orange, holding it to her chest.

“Do you want me to be pleased?” she whispered, her eyes wet with moisture. He wanted to die, could not stand if his mate began crying again.

“Yes.” She studied him again, her cheeks blooming bright red as her eyes slid over his bare form. She was, at least, pleased by how he looked. Good. It would have been far more difficult to court her if she found him displeasing. He stood still, allowing her to look even though he had the vaguest awareness it embarrassed her. He wanted to look at her too—she was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Elain, he reminded himself. Elain was beautiful in a way that made his whole body ache. She was lush and soft, her skin tanned from the sun, her soft face heart shaped and holding the prettiest pair of lips he’d ever seen. Lips he wanted to taste.

“Would you put on pants?”

He scoffed. “Pants?”

“Yes,” she murmured, as if he hadn’t seen her staring at his cock. Did she not like it? Lucien frowned.

“Why pants?”

“Um…it’s just…” more red on her pretty, tanned face. “You’re naked.” “Yes,” he agreed again.

“The men where I come from wear pants. And a shirt,” she amended hastily.

“When I shift, my clothes will shred,” he explained with amusement. “There are not enough pants in the world to keep me clothed.” “Perhaps you could simply take them off when you shift?” she offered helpfully. “And if you rip them, I could sew them back together.”

He considered that. “My form does not please you?”

Her eyes went wide. “Um…”

“No shirt. I will consider pants,” Lucien agreed. “Now tell me. Does what I’ve brought please you?”

“Yes,” she agreed softly. “I haven’t had an orange in a very long time.” He smiled, warmth filling his stomach. She was happy, peeling the rind with her nails and leaving the little chunks on the floor beside her. Lucien watched her slide one of the little pieces between her lips with fascination.

“Did you eat today?” he asked. It mattered. She needed to be strong too, needed to be able to defend their young. She was too fragile, scared too easily. Food first, he decided. Food and then sleep and then he’d ply her with young. He had time before the humans came sniffing for her. Enough time to move their nest and enough time to make her strong.

“No,” she murmured. “They come early.” He huffed his irritation, walking back to his hoard to rummage through the bags. Elain leaned forward curiously, occasionally reaching for a piece of clothing or some other little bauble with wide-eyed fascination. That pleased him, too. She liked things that shined, same as him. It shouldn’t have surprised him—mates were equally matched. It seemed strange to imagine his mate as this fragile thing and yet hadn’t she pulled a spear from his belly? She was courageous.

“Eat,” he demanded, shoving more fruit and dried meat towards her.

“Are you trying to fatten me up so I’ll be a delicious meal for you?” she asked warily. He snorted a laugh. He did intend to feast on her, just not the way she imagined.

“You need to be strong if you’re going to survive,” he replied, pushing the food closer still, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. Her eyes drifted again to his cock, hanging politely between his legs. He wanted to ask her about it but didn’t dare, not when that pretty pink stole over her skin again.

“Survive what?”

“Life,” he insisted. Why frighten her tonight? “I will not harm you, Elain.”

“But you won’t let me go?” she questioned, looking at him with so much soft hope. Lucien sat on the ground across from her, cross-legged the same as her.

“Why would you want to go back?” he demanded, taking one of the apples from the ground to sink his teeth into. Her gaze snagged on his fangs, barely anything in comparison to what they would be if he had shifted and still it marked him as other. Not human. Fear slithered around them again, perfuming the air until he choked on the stench.

“My sisters are back there,” she told him, chewing thoughtfully, eyes in her lap. “They’ll be worried.” “The males would know if I returned you,” he informed her. “They would hurt you.” “I’ll them you deemed me unworthy—” “And they will kill you,” he said flatly, hurt and disappointed she wanted to leave him so badly.

Elain looked at him, her eyes cool—assessing. “What happened to the others?”

“They are unharmed,” Lucien replied quickly. “Safe.”

“Where?”

He pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t tell her that because she’d want him to take her, too. The maddening female would demand the same treatment, would ask him to free her and Lucien would become the bad guy because he wouldn’t. She would remain with him.

Elain exhaled her frustration. “So I’m to live my life in this tower?” “For now,” he agreed. He saw that hope spark in her eyes, knew exactly what she thought. He’d let her go at some point, would take her to join the others. Lucien would not. When he moved her, it would be somewhere far from the humans, from this wretched forest, from anything that might harm her.

His mate was going to make the best of it. She did as he asked, eating each piece of food he offered her and following it with water until she shoved at his hands. “No more,” she said, one hand on her stomach. A vision of her, swollen and pregnant and flushed snapped through his mind. Lucien had to remind himself to breathe lest he draw the attention of his cock. He didn’t want her to skitter away, bathed in fear. He wanted her to keep looking at him with appreciation.

He could make concessions.

“I will find some pants,” he told her earnestly. “If you continue to eat.” “Okay,” she agreed with a tentative smile. Her eyes swept the room, noting the bathtub at the far end. He’d bring her water in the morning, would heat it even, if she liked.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked, some of her fear returning.

“Here,” he murmured, gesturing just behind him. He intended to sleep in his other form, to guard her just in case the males returned with their arrows and spears. He didn’t think they’d dare—not yet, anyway. And still, Lucien would take no chances.

Not with his mate.

~*~

Elain:

She woke to bright sunlight and a bathtub nearly overflowing with water. Tucked beneath a mountain of blankets despite the warmth, Elain watched Lucien hoist one last bucked into the basin. He’d put on pants though they hardly fit him well, baggy and worn as they were. No shirt, which was just as well. She liked the sight of his muscular back, bunching and straining beneath the weight of the water. This was not what she’d expected. He’d put her into bed after feeding her before shifting back into that strange dragon form and sleeping beneath the stars. She’d been awake longer than him, had watched the gentle rise and fall of his scaled chest, his twitching tail, his smoking snout.

She suspected he’d let the other women go. If he didn’t eat them, and he wasn’t hiding them somewhere then surely he must send them somewhere. She wanted to believe it because the alternative—that he was lying to her—was too much to bear. Certainly, if he meant to hurt her, this was a strange way to go about it.

She shifted beneath the blankets, drawing his attention. My form does not please you? What did it say about her that his form pleased her a little too much? He was all muscle, broad and tanned and lightly scaled in the most utterly pleasing way. It was almost a tragedy to see him in pants, to no longer see his softly haired legs, his powerful thighs and what lay between it all. As it stood, she could still view the light trail of red hair over his stomach, vanishing into his pants. The sight still thrilled her.

“You are awake. You should eat and then bathe,” he told her with a soft sort of earnestness. She nodded, sitting up fully in her same dress from the night before. He’d brought her a collection of gowns, clearly stolen based on what he assumed she might like without considering practicality. Ball gowns were mixed with work dresses along with one massive wedding dress she’d draped over the chair with the book. If she could get her hands on thread and scissors, Elain wanted to repurpose it into a regular dress since the material was so nice and soft.

“How cold is the water?” she asked, rifling through the bag for more dried meat and fruit. She’d have to ask him to consider variety when he went out next even as she recognized there was nowhere to store things like cheese and milk. Bread, though. And maybe a little butter. That would be good.

Lucien shifted, his pants ripping loudly in the early morning air. She raised her eyebrows, catching his sheepishness. He huffed apologetically, as if to say oops. He was a work in progress, she decided. For as long as he continued to treat her with kindness, so would she. Instead of berating him, she reached out a hand and tentatively touched his scales. He was warm to the touch and surprisingly tough. Sharp, almost, like the scales were more defensive plating than anything.

He dipped his nose into the water, eyes watching her from the side with that same wariness, and blew warm fire into her water until it bubbled gently. Elain watched steam waft off the water with trepidation. Removing her hand from his body, she slid her own fingers into the tub, delighted to find it was, perhaps, a shade hotter than it had ever been at home and yet hardly scalding. He looked at her expectantly, his form shifting and warping until he was a naked man again.

“Is it too hot?” he demanded, putting his own hand into the water with a frown. She wanted to touch his skin and see if he was as warm as his scales had been and yet she didn’t dare. It was improper to touch a naked man as an unmarried woman. The whole thing—him, naked, filling a bathtub for her—was improper. She almost laughed.

“It’s good,” she agreed. Lucien watched her expectantly and she realized he wanted to see her get into the water. Elain’s cheeks flushed, her whole body igniting with a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

“Turn around,” she whispered, well aware he might tell her no. He was a massive monster, had fangs even in this half human form. He could simply say no, could pull her clothes from her body like he’d done to her iron cuffs and take whatever he liked.

His nose wrinkled. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t see me naked.” His frown deepened. “Oh.”

Still, Lucien strode to the balcony, back turned. She waited to see if he’d peak or otherwise come walking back but he remained long enough for her to quickly unlace her dress, leaving it pooled at the floor with her underthings, before she climbed over the porcelain lip of the claw tub.

“Would you like soap?” he called, clearly hearing the slosh of water. Light from the sky had begun to light up the tower, given it hovered above the treetops, illuminating the once near dark space brilliantly.

“Yes,” she agreed, arranging her hair over her breasts and pulling her knees to her chest. It didn’t matter. Lucien, despite his own proud nakedness, had his eyes shut tight when he returned, tripping over the scattered objects on the floor, a bottle of soap in one hand and oil in the other. He clumsily handed them to her, not peeking even once.

“Guide me to the chair,” he asked.

“Straight ahead.” She giggled when he half flipped over the arm, ass perched in the air as he scrambled to right himself. Lucien rearranged the chair so the back faced the tub, plopping into the nice gray seat.

“Why does your naked form embarrass you?” he asked after a moment, crossing one leg over the other.

Elain allowed herself to stretch out, trusting he would not do what too many human men would have—jumped up to look, to pull her out and touch. She’d been told her whole life that men had urges they could not ignore, that they were only a few steps away from beasts, fueled by lustful instincts when they were confronted with the female form. Lucien was a beast and yet he’d kept his eyes shut. Perhaps she didn’t tempt him at all. The thought comforted her.

“I’m not married,” she told him. There was a beat of silence. “So?”

“It’s not done. Only your husband should see you naked.” “You have no husband,” he pointed out. Elain laughed a little, pouring some of the vanilla scented oil into the tub. Her wrists still ached, were still swollen and bruised from the manacles. She began rubbing there first.

“Exactly. So no one should see me naked.”

“But you have seen me naked,” he pointed out, clearly trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Only because you cannot keep a pair of trousers on you to save your own life,” she replied. “It’s different for men, besides. Their chastity is not so important.” “Why?”

Elain frowned, rubbing the oil into her skin. “I…I’m not sure. I suppose women fall faster to temptation than men. Women are supposed to remain pure—” “And this would change if a male saw you naked?” He made it all sound so foolish, so simple-minded and stupid. “Yes.” “If you say so,” was his casual response. “But I do not mind if you continue to look at me without clothes on.” Elain tipped her head back in the water, soaking her hair so she could lather it with soap. “We will have to get used to each other, I suppose, if we are to remain together for the foreseeable future.” He huffed a soft sigh in response, though if her words annoyed or pleased him, she couldn’t say. “Elain?”

She shivered involuntarily at the sound of him speaking her name. What was that? She swallowed, scrubbing at her scalp.

“Yes?”

“Why did the males send you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What crime did you commit that brought you here?”

“Oh.” Was that what he imagined? Her some sort of criminal that needed to be punished. She swallowed, rinsing out her hair slowly before she responded.

“I ah…one of the men in town wanted to marry me.” The silence between them was as heavy as the air in the forest. “So you do have a husband?” “No. I told him no.” A soft, strangled noise erupted from his body and Lucien rose, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to look at her. Flame erupted over his skin, in his eyes, bathing him in furious, bright heat. She covered herself frantically though she didn’t think he truly saw her at all. Not as he paced to the balcony, shifting into his scaled, taloned form. He said nothing at all as he leapt off the edge, vanishing into the morning glow.

Elain exhaled her relief, rising from the tub and quickly grabbing one of the uglier dresses to use as a makeshift towel. Sifting through what he’d brought her, Elain found a rather nice blue dress similar to the one before. She couldn’t lace it without help so she left the back hanging open as she rearranged the chair so it was back to facing the only open window. He’d tossed the book and blanket to the floor, uninterested in either. Elain had nothing better to do, so she picked up that book, draping the blanket neatly over the back. Her book was about a pirate in love with a lady, one she’d never read before. She was hardly permitted to read anything like what was in her hands—ladies didn’t read about fantasy or romance lest it give them ideas. She wondered if she even counted as a lady anymore. After all, she spent far too much time ogling a naked man or male or whatever he was. No respectable lady would have dared. Elain remembered the governess who’d told her all proper ladies fainted at the first sign of improper behavior from men, and if they didn’t, they’d wanted whatever happened.

Did she want something to happen, then? She hadn’t fainted. She just…kept looking. Even as she read, her mind occasionally flashed to his body, reliving every inch of gold and brown skin.

My form does not please you?

That was the problem. His form pleased her a little too much.

Elain was a third of the way through her book—which featured a heroine pretending to be a man while falling in love with the roguish pirate captain—-when Lucien returned carrying more things. He watched her as that great, gleaming beast, setting his haul back on the floor. Was he hoarding things the way dragons in fairy tales did, or did he not know what she might need? Elain hadn’t been able to figure it out, not when she’d watched him run his fingers over a pearl necklace as if it were made of gold.

She blinked, bringing back the naked man. He crouched, shuffling through his things before procuring a new pair of pants she had no doubt would be ruined by the end of the evening. Still, he was so obviously proud of himself as he slid them over his hips. They fit better, were tiger around his waist, creating an outline of his penis she found herself staring at while he quickly laced himself up.

“Will you do me, too?” she asked, setting her book aside to stand. He watched, eyes darkening, when she presented her back to him. Elain swept her hair over one shoulder and waited, inhaling sharply when he trailed a finger over her spine. “Just the laces, Lucien.” He stepped closer, his heat radiating around her. She could feel his soft breath on the nape of her neck as he pulled the laces, closing her into the dress. Each new pull forced her to suck in a breath, not because it was tight but because his knuckles swept over her skin for only a moment, creating a delicious friction. A soft throbbing had begun to heat between her legs, as if her heart had dislodged itself to pump blood directly to her most sensitive areas.

He stepped away, allowing her to turn and look at him. She wished she hadn’t. Undiluted heat gazed back at her, his want so obvious even without looking down to see the straining of his pants. It should have terrified her or at the very least, disgusted her. He was a monster, the very same the men had taunted would take her against her will. Elain’s breath came in soft, shallow pants. “Thank you,” she murmured, forcing herself to step away from him, to go back to her chair.

He nodded, eyes glazed. He was so utterly wild, even in the brown pants that covered his lower form. What would it be like?

It was a terrible, scandalous thought. She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. It hadn’t been a day of imprisonment. Elain needed to calm down or she’d do something wholly inappropriate, would ruin herself before she ever had a chance to escape.

Worst of all, Elain thought she might enjoy it.

~*~

Arousal.

He scented it in the air as he laced up her dress, replacing the fear that polluted the air. She was sweet, standing utterly still while her heart raced an out of control beat. It had taken every ounce of his control to stay exactly where he was, to ignore instinct and let her pretend nothing had happened at all. Lucien caught the edged lust in her gaze, her flushed cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

His mate wanted him.

He was preening by the time night fellh, drunk on the knowledge that she would eventually welcome him into her bed and between her legs. Perhaps it wouldn’t take as long as he imagined. She’d settled, at least, much easier than the other females had. She didn’t pace and weep and sob and beg. It was why she was his mate and the others had been sent away. He’d been right to think she was strong, that she could handle his offspring.

He’d brought her more books, noting she liked the ones where males and females fell in love. He went back out when she’d mentioned how much she’d like some butter and bread, happy to give her what she wanted on the off chance she’d bathe him in the scent of her arousal again. He also brought more books that focused on romance, stacking them beside her chair as she settled in for the evening. The torch was lit, bathing the room in a soft glow just like the night before, and he was sprawled on the floor, naked and working very, very hard to keep himself from becoming aroused.

“No one notices you stealing?” she asked. He smiled.

“I steal from those who have too much already. I doubt they even notice.” “What do you eat?” she asked, as if he hadn’t stolen half of the bread in her hand, gobbling it down in a few quick bites.

“I’m not as picky as you,” he informed her. He was prone to eat whatever he could get his talons on and though he didn’t think she wanted to hear it, Lucien quite enjoyed raw flesh, still warm from the hunt. He’d eaten a deer on his way in, not that he intended to tell her that. She grimaced all the same.

She was an elegant lady, he imagined, living in one of the sprawling manor houses he’d seen in the distance. Sent to him for refusing a male…Lucien wished he knew which male, so he might eat them, too. What did she do? How was her time spent? Perhaps he could replicate it. “How did you spend your time before you came here?”

Her fingers hesitated, holding a chunk of bread she was ripping apart absently. “I had my chores, I suppose–”

“For fun,” he interrupted impatiently. He was well acquainted with the idea of chores.

Her eyes brightened. “Well I read, of course. I had a garden that I enjoyed and I often hosted large balls where we would dance and sing until we were too exhausted to stand.” “You dance?” he asked, perking up at the thought. He had some knowledge of this, though it was limited. He’d seen it done and had some memory of his father walking him through the old, ancient steps of his own people. She nodded and Lucien stood.

“Show me.”

It was sneaky. He wanted to touch her more than he truly wanted to learn and yet he had the sense it would also please her to teach him something. Elain’s eyes slipped down his body, snagging on his cock like they so often did. Pants. How he loathed her obsession with clothing his body. Without being asked, Lucien went to his neatly folded pants and slipped them on without complaint. These, at least, fit better. Elain had asked for fabric and sewing materials, he assumed to make him more. It was a small thing for a mate and yet Lucien secretly hoped she would be the one who stopped wearing clothes. He would very much have liked to see her sprawled about naked, unconcerned with modesty.

Elain rose only then, still hesitant. He’d agreed to pants only. Lucien held out a hand, relieved when she accepted.

“Your hand on my waist,” she explained, tossing her thick, golden brown hair off her face without any awareness of how the scent of vanilla and jasmine slapped him in the face. It was the oil he’d brought her coupled with her own innate scent. Lucien reached for the soft curve of her body, pulling her flush against him.

“Too close,” she said breathlessly, one palm on his chest. He didn’t move, watching how her fingers touched the golden skin that marked him as other, as non-human. “It’s soft.” “It’s my skin,” he agreed. “Did you imagine scales?” “Yes,” she replied. “Or plating. Something rough and hard.”

She pulled away, putting distance between them. He was aroused, too grateful she didn’t recognize the shift in his own scent the way he might have noticed hers. Instead, Elain put her hand on his shoulder and Lucien resisted the urge to pull her back. It was strange and wrong to be so far away. “So human do not touch except to dance?”

“It’s a loophole,” she agreed cheerfully. “Usually men lead but for this, you’ll just follow after me.”

“I don’t mind following you,” he told her hopefully. Elain smiled, shaking her head softly.

“I knew you’d say that.”

Elain began her steps and Lucien was pleased to find he moved with more grace than he’d expected of himself. Her, too which only added to his enjoyment. It was hardly difficult, even when Elain began purposefully trying to complicate the movements and steps. A child could have mastered it and he imagined children did, so why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t stupid—just lonely. He liked being close, liked hearing her breathless order, not from arousal but her own giddy excitement. She didn’t look at him like he was a monster but like he was a male, someone safe. Someone she could trust.

“I wish we had music,” Elain told him some time later, face flushed and sweaty as she took a deep breath.

“I can’t help with that,” he said with a smile, flopping onto the bed, hand on his stomach. “But I did have a thought while we were dancing.” “Oh?”

“You mentioned you liked to garden?”

He inclined his head to watch her. Elain bit her bottom lip, nodding gently. “I did say that.” “I know a place. It’s not a garden but it is filled with flowers. I could take you.” He saw that flash of hope in her eyes. She still wanted him to let her go but Lucien couldn’t do that. It hurt him that she still wanted that even as he conceded she’d been with him one day. He needed more time.

“How will we get there?”

Lucien grinned.

“We’ll fly.”

~*~

Two days. That was how long it had been since she’d been chained in the tower. Two days of a dragon guarding the tower as he slept. When she woke that second morning, it occurred to Elain that Lucien might not be guarding her at all. After all, he’d already left. The rough flap of his wings had pulled her from sleep for a moment, just enough for her to recognize he’d left before she drifted back to sleep.

It was an absurd thought, all things considered. She was the sacrifice and at some point…surely he’d…make good on that, right? And yet, when Elain walked to the balcony to survey the forest around her, there was no way out. No way down. He could have forced her to let him sleep in the bed if he’d wanted to. He could have forced himself on her, could have left her chained even if he was so worried.

He wasn’t. Lucien was so blissfully unconcerned with how she spent her time when he was away that Elain had to wonder how much of that old legend was even true. He was a man…kind of, at least…and looked barely older than thirty, if that. Was it even about him? Perhaps there were more roaming and he’d merely taken over this tower.

Too many questions and not enough answers. What Elain did know is she had hot water waiting for her when she finally forced herself out of bed and a nice, off shoulder yellow dress draped over a chair with a pair of pearl earrings resting atop her book. He wanted her to wear it and she did, pleased when he returned with only food and nothing else. She had enough clothes and books to last her a solid year.

The only thing that was wrong was her wrists. She’d thought they’d begin to heal once she’d been freed but everyday Elain’s hands seemed more swollen, her bruises uglier and more purple until it hurt to even move her fingers at all. She was sitting on the floor when Lucien returned, arms draped over the edge of the tub because the hot water soothed the near constant ache. He poked his golden snout into the room first, shifting almost immediately when he realized the strangeness of her actions. “Yellow looks nice,” he praised, drawing a soft thrill from her stomach. “Why are you sitting like that?”

Elain pulled her hands from the water ruefully. He froze, eyes shifting from russet to gold. She’d learned his little tells, knew that when he became unnaturally still or his eyes began to change colors he was angry. Lucien crouched, reaching for her hand to touch gently. “Why do they do this?”

“It’s hard to run away when you’re chained,” she replied. Lucien brought her skin to his lips and Elain, panicking, tugged away. He held firm.

“Let me heal you,” he murmured, tongue sliding from his mouth. Unlike the gold of his skin, which was softly inked just beneath the surface, his tongue was rougher than she thought it ought to be, darting behind his unnaturally long canines. He grazed her skin over his teeth, scraping the scabbed over wounds before he licked at the wound, just as he’d done when he pulled up the spear. She’d thought it was magic, some innate thing that kept him from dying but watching the way his tongue swiped over her bruising, she realized it was something else.

“Is your saliva healing?” she asked breathlessly. No one had ever done so much as kiss her on the cheek.

He looked up through thick, fanned out lashes, his red hair splayed over his broad shoulders. “It’s a venom, I suppose,” he murmured, licking again before turning his attention to her rapidly healing hands. “For survival.” “From your mouth?” “My fangs,” he disagreed, reaching for her other wrist. Elain shivered when those teeth grazed her skin, drawing heat just like before. She shouldn’t like his tongue over her skin. Elain knew it was wrong to want him at all but especially when he was licking at her as if she were some kind of candy. He was helping and nothing more. A lady would have looked the other way, would certainly not have felt pooling warmth between her thighs. Elain was grateful she was sitting on her knees, able to clench her legs together to keep from doing anything truly foolish.

He released her with an almost kiss, gesturing to see the first wrist. “See? All better. There is no need to suffer.”

And he was right. Elain flexed her fingers with amazement.

“And your laces?” he questioned, his voice softer than usual. This was dangerous, she realized. He was a monster and she liked him. They had, somehow, become almost friends. Elain nodded. She could trust him. He wouldn’t do anything besides lace her up despite his nudity. It barely registered to her anymore—even her fascination with his penis was starting to fade as the sight of it hanging became strangely normal. It wasn’t as if he ever tried to do anything with it.

His knuckles grazed over her back just as before and Elain still felt the coiling arousal just as before. It couldn’t be helped. She’d been taught her whole life men only touched their wives until all touch felt sexualized and inappropriate. She didn’t know how to untangle those two things, not when a very naked man was very politely lacing her into a dress. Wanting him felt like a violation of some kind, as if she were taking advantage of his kindness

“So…a meadow, today?”

Lucien brightened. “Yes. You’ll fly on my back.”

Lucien spent the morning cheerfully humming as he packed enough food for six people rather than just two. He wouldn’t let her hold it, snuffing with his big, scaled snout when she tried to take it from him. Peering at his mouth, Elain noted his massive, gleaming teeth. She should be dead. What was he doing with her?

Climbing on his back was awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. His scaled body was rough against her skin but not piercingly sharp. More like leather than metal and tough enough she doubted he felt how she shifted around trying to get comfortable. It seemed the scales on his stomach were more akin to skin but the rest of him could probably break a sword in half.

Flying was somehow the best and worst experience of her entire life. Elain screamed the moment he stepped from that ledge, massive wings outstretched. Her stomach plunged with him, flying to her throat where she thought she might lose it entirely. If it amused him, she couldn’t say. Lucien kept to the sky, the flight steady as they streamed over endless woodland that seemed to stretch for miles and miles. The beauty of the world stunned her. A cloudless blue sky floated overheard, pouring warm, soft light over everything it touched. She could see iridescent purple snowy mountains and beyond that the glowing, glittering ocean water that might have taken them far, far away.

Tucked between the mountains was a grassy valley and within that valley, Lucien’s wildflower dotted meadow beside a round, sky blue lake. He deposited her to the ground before shifting, pulling out the nice pants he had managed to keep intact and throwing them on with obvious annoyance. What had the other women made of him, she wondered? Had they not minded his nudity? He acted as if she were the first.

“This is…” she had no words for it. It was cooler here, devoid of the heavy forest air that kept everything dark and musty. For the first time since Elain had been taken away, she felt as if she could breathe again. Lucien was strolling towards the water and Elain knew how that would go. He’d try and coax her in, unaware she couldn’t swim. She didn’t know she wanted him to try and teach her, not after the night of dancing. She was too fixated on his hands and how big they were. Adding water to the mix seemed like a terrible idea.

Elain darted forward, catching him by the arm. He looked over his shoulder, head tilted down and oh how she wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. He made her feel as if no one else existed, as if he’d never seen any but her.

“Come pick flowers with me,” she said breathlessly. “Tell me how you came to be here.” It took an hour before she got the answer to her question. He’d taken flower picking as a personal challenge, pulling the swaying white and pink and red and purple blooms up by the roots and leaving them in a massive pile for her. What did he think she was going to do with them?

Elain convinced Lucien to put his head in her lap so she could braid his hair. “Tell me how you got here,” she murmured, weaving the flowers into his hair as she worked.

“We have always been here,” Lucien finally said, tilting his chin to look up at her. “Humans and us…we were the same. It was you who changed.”

“What are you?” she questioned. That was certainly not the story she’d been told. Us. There was supposed to be only him, some cursed, vicious thing. Not a race of people.

“The Fae,” he murmured. “They are gone now. Hunted to extinction, or so my father believed, anyway. Your kind slaughtered my mother, my brothers…left only me and my father until he died, too.” “How long have you been here?”

“Too long.”

There was a note of bitterness to his word, laced with a sadness that made her ache though she didn’t know why. “Why not just leave?”

He sighed, eyes closed as she continued her work, enjoying touching his hair a little too much. “Where would I go?” “Wherever you take the other humans?” she guessed, testing her theory. He opened one eye to peer up at her.

“Across the ocean,” he finally said. “Away from your males.” “But I can’t go?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to brave that sort of fate. It didn’t matter—Lucien closed his eyes, lips pressed in a thin line. No. He didn’t have to say it. She ignored her rushing relief

“And you’re not going to kill me?” she confirmed instead because she could live this way, she decided. At least for now. Close enough to her sisters, to the life she’d never quite belonged to, but far enough away she’d never find herself trapped in a garden with another man who didn’t think love belonged in a marriage.

“No.”

“Then we’re friends,” Elain declared, pulling another flower through the braid she was weaving through his hair. Lucien didn’t open his eyes but he did smile. She’d made him happy, which, in turn, made her happy. It was nice to have a friend.

~*~

“Bounce on your toes,” Lucien instructed. His female could not swim. In all truth, she likely couldn’t do a lot of things but swimming was easily rectified. She’d stripped, which was nice, to her little white shift all the while demanding he turn and not look, as if he couldn’t see her floating towards him. The material was transparent, clinging against lush curves and her pretty breasts tipped with rosy nipples. It was hell, pretending not to notice any of those things as he forced her to learn to float. Lucien himself was careful not to disrupt the braid of his hair or the flowers she’d painstakingly woven within. Her own hair floated like a halo around her, glinting more gold than brown beneath the afternoon sun. She looked well—unbruised, unblemished, flushed and bright. He knew some of her good health was his doing. She’d offered her wounds up to him and allowed her to heal him and something about that act of vulnerability spoke to her soft courage. He knew he must look terrifying in comparison to the males she was used to and yet she was nothing but kind.

He was not doing enough to show her what it meant to him. Elain continued to bounce around the pebbled bottom of the lake, hands skimming the surface as if it would help her. Lucien watched, keeping a few paces behind her as she made her way further and further towards the inevitable drop. He intended to keep her just at the edge, dangling off that precipice as she learned to kick her legs.

“You cannot remain in that tower forever,” he mused, more to himself than to her, though her input would be helpful. She needed a safer place to nest and he wanted her to like it. “If you had to leave…where would you live?” “Somewhere like this,” she admitted breathlessly. “It’s too bad they didn’t build the tower here.”

Lucien spun to look behind him. The mountains here were passable in the spring and summer months if you knew what you were doing and where you were going. The elevation was high enough he could still fly around the surrounding area to search for predators but not so high she might freeze…and a new tower was intriguing. Perhaps one of the cottages like the humans had. He could build that if she could spend the majority of her time hidden. Safe. Her males wouldn’t know he’d taken her anywhere but to her grave and she could have freedom to roam and bounce and swim. His young, too. They’d need it if they were going to learn to fly.

He didn’t have much time left. A month or two of true warmth and perhaps another of autumn’s chill before they would need to be settled somewhere. He would need to begin the next day which required more theft of tools, of supplies, of—

A surprised gasp and a splash drew Lucien’s attention behind him. Elain was gone, had slipped beneath the water. Fuck. Lucien lunged forward, reaching into the water for her outstretched hand and hauling her back to the surface. She’d been maybe two inches beneath, enough to kick her way back to the top but from the way Elain gasped desperately, clawing at his shoulders as she scrambled up his body, one would have thought she’d been beneath the water for hours and had just barely survived.

Not that Lucien was complaining. She pressed the entirety of her wet, warm body against his own, wrapping her legs tight against his waist, arms around his neck. “You let me fall,” she accused, eyelashes glimmering with watery diamonds.

“You forgot to kick your feet,” he reminded her with amusement, wrapping her arms around his body just the same. Lucien kicked off that ledge so he was suspended over the unfathomable depths, still holding her safe against him. “See? You have to kick your feet to keep your head above water.”

“I hate it,” she said, forehead touching his cheek to look into the depths. “What’s down there?” “More monsters for you to befriend,” he teased, reveling in his mate seeking comfort. She didn’t let up, squeezing around him so tight Lucien had to remind himself there very well could be a monster lurking beneath and he would hardly do either of them any favors if he was punishingly erect.

“You’re not a monster,” she chided softly, resting her chin against his shoulder. Her hair was tangled around her face, plastered against her back. All the little flowers she’d put in her own hair were ruined and yet she was still by far the most lovely creature he’d ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. Her grip on his neck loosened only a little as he continued his lazy float around the lake, taking the widest, lazy circle to get them back to shore. “Why do they think you are?”

“My father was…” Lucien considered his words. “He was angry with their slaughter, with how they hunted us. He came to their villages for retribution and killed a lot of humans. Not as many as they killed but enough to let them see what we might do if we ever had the interest. A deal was struck. One human every year and in exchange we would stay away. I think he hoped it might keep them away from mother, from his young.”

“One human?” she questioned, pulling back to look at him. “Any human?” “An adult human. No children,” Lucien amended. “But yes. It hardly mattered what human given they were supposed to die. I wasn’t alive then. By the time I was born, it was always just a maiden. Sometimes she was offered a quick death and others she was sent away. He was the one who taught me the sea route.”

“Why did he kill some of them?”

“The humans killed mother, killed my brothers. He mourned their loss as anyone would. Some years were harder than others. She had the most vibrant red hair and if the woman reminded him of her it did not go well.” “How did he die?” she asked curiously. Lucien couldn’t answer her that, not when she touched him with such trust.

“All things die eventually,” he finally said. “Even us.”

Elain took a breath, her breasts sliding gently against his chest. “But it doesn’t have to be a maiden?” “Your males are cruel,” Lucien murmured, tucking a curling tendril of hair behind her ear. “And cowardly, sending unarmed, chained females to the likes of me.”

“But you don’t hurt us,” she breathed softly.

“Do they know?” he asked. “Or do they hope I do?”

Elain blinked, shoulders sagging at his words. Of course she knew the truth—it was impossible for her not to when she’d been handed over for simply telling one of her males no. Lucien had long accepted the realization that human males enjoyed terrorizing their females, that the fear was important to how they courted.

“Will you check on my sisters?” she asked after a moment. “Could I maybe write to them, tell them I’m safe?”

It was risky. If they told anyone he hadn’t killed her, the males might come looking. They might not appreciate him stealing one of their females no matter how he’d gotten her. Lucien could not deny his mate anything, not when she was touching him with her soft hands, not when her mouth was so close he could have leaned forward and run his tongue against her lips. Too tempted, Lucien nodded. “Yes. But you must tell them to swear to keep it a secret.”

“I will,” she agreed, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

Lucien merely pressed his hand against her back, keeping her steady. His feet slid against the rough, pebbled bottom, telling him it was time to release her. “You do not ask for enough,” he told her, his regret blooming hot and heavy in his chest when she unclenched her thighs and all but floated away from him.

“What should I ask for, then?” she replied, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lucien was utterly serious. “Everything.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #MONSTER #no monster peen unfortunately #elain x lucien #really just these two dummies getting to know each other #truly love elain like awwww we're friends #and lucien snarling in his head THATS MY WIFE NO ONE LOOK AT HER #you get what you get as always #but i am pleased AF with this

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sugar-phoenix · 4 months

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Find the word

thank you @sourrcandy for the tag!

My words are: lady, revenge, vision, and hate

These are all taken from my WIP, The Blood That Bonds Us

Lady

“Oh! So the prince was successful?” the woman asked. “Indeed. This young lady here tells me he slew the witch that held her.” The woman stared at me in mild shock. “Well. I never thought anyone would succeed. But I suppose I ought to give the boy credit. He is the prince of the kingdom, after all.” She turned to the patrons. “A round of celebratory drinks, on the house! The maiden has been saved from the tower.” There was a loud cheer, and Kenric motioned for us to follow him up the stairs. Once on the second floor, he led us to two rooms, and handed us keys for both. “Please don’t hesitate to get yourselves comfortable. I’ll have someone bring up the items from the horses. And someone will bring up hot water and towels.” “Thank you kindly,” Vincent said, nodding at him. Kenric smiled and left us, making his way back down the stairs.

Revenge (Avenge)

(couldn't find it but I know my story has themes of revenge so I picked the next best option)

“Are you excited for your task-coronation, your Highness?” the servant holding the golden circlet asked. He was a new hire, a young boy who clearly hadn’t had enough experience being a royal servant, and the others glared at him for his boldness, but I ignored them. “I won’t be happy until the crown of the kingdom is resting on my head and I am resting on the throne.” I adjusted the cuffs of my father’s suit jacket, now adorning my body, and wondered if he would’ve been proud to see me here. The previous King Aldan was loved by the people. He ruled with an iron fist that was as gentle as it was firm. Sometimes, I wished he had not been so kind, because it was the thing that got him killed. I gripped the pendant that hung around my neck, a bronze engraving of a dragon’s head. It was one of the things they had recovered from my father’s body, and I kept it close to me at all times. I will avenge you, Father. When I become King, I’ll finish what you started, once and for all. When the tailor was satisfied with my appearance, the servants wheeled a tall mirror in front of me so that I could admire myself one last time before I went off to the ceremony. I searched for my father in my reflection, desperately. I thought that if I wore his clothes I would truly become a king in them. But all I saw was a young boy, who didn’t have a crown on his head, but a thin, measly circlet. A boy who thought himself king, but in the end was only a prince. I stepped forward, waving my arm towards the mirror. “Get that out of my sight.”

Vision

Had there not been close supervision by the other advisers and laws in place, I’m sure he would have done away with me or neglected me entirely as a child. The laws of inheritance stated I was to be provided with proper food, drink, clothing, and an education until I had reached the proper age to inherit the crown, all of which were granted to me and begrudgingly overseen by Alaric. Every time he saw me, I was a reminder that one day he would have to step down to me. And although Alaric abided by the inheritance laws, nothing in them stated he had to be kind to me. When I was younger, I was more fearful, and I avoided running into him in the hallways. Now I look him in the eyes whenever we pass. I will rip the throne from out underneath you and there is nothing you can do about it.

Hate

As the last hair tie fell to the floor, my hair straightened itself out. I hated braids. Dame Gothel would be cross with me, but in the moment I didn’t care. I could feel each strand as they were entwined with each other. Tight. Restrained. It felt much better when they were free, flowing around me like a second hide. Dame Gothel would hate me for calling them that. I rested my elbows on the window, and breathed in the crisp air. The morning sunlight glinted over the small wooden wolves on the shelves in my room. The sound of the crickets had died down as dawn turned to morn, and instead the song of a thousand birds around me were filling the sky.

My words for the next people: guess, offense, scratch, intention

tagging (gently): @emmys-writing-blog @wihachilles @orphicpoieses @rewritingrosie @mjparkerwriting @jay-avian @sterling-dragon @jasminewalkerauthor

#writeblr #writing #tag game #find the word game #writing community #♚ . rhydian #✧ . daciana #the blood that bonds us .wip #◦ . vincent

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alectology-archive · 2 years

Text

chapters 21, 22, 23, 30, 31, 32 partly:

Only three nights before, she had married Bael, in a ceremony that made her his wife and first-sister to his other wife, Dorindha. That part had been just as important as the marriage, apparently;

yeah, sentences like this make me think RJ really wanted to write poly relationships but was too enamoured with his kinks and obsessed with heterosexual relationships to do so. I’m fascinated, though, by his choice to make women choose other women as the most important people in their lives over even their love interests - min is the rare exception to this rule.

“Well, just you remember it. It was not your fault.” She heeled Mist on, and began talking to Aviendha before she was out of earshot. “I am glad he is taking it so well. He has the habit of feeling guilty over things he cannot control.”

once again, egwene Gets rand! and she cares so much! people who dislike egwene are fully delusional and probably base their dislike for her off of her characterisation in sanderson’s books. again, I feel the need to mention that egwene only ever admonishes rand in private in RJ’s books - and not even in front of moiraine! - but publicly insults him in front of world leaders in the sanderson books. plus rand undermines egwene’s authority and makes her look powerless in book 13 by walking into the white tower and demanding promises without offering any explanations. lol, sanderson has a tendency to write from a place of “Does this sound cool?” rather than “Is this a politically or logically sound action?”

ohhh and while we’re still on the topic of sanderson and bad characterisations and egwene telling rand that rand that it wasn’t his fault that the shaido ravaged Taien - rand makes a fucking point about trying to save as many people as he can! and blames himself for not achieving everything he sets his mind to in order to save people! part of the reason his mental health worsens as the books progress is because he can’t protect everybody around him despite trying his best to do so - this holds true at least up to book 11, if not book 12, and nothing really happens in book 12 to warrant a change on that note. so the fact that sanderson makes rand monologue something stupid about how he’d stopped caring for the people around him during his dragonmount epiphany infuriates me to no end. I just generally hate any of the new character flaws he introduces for all the characters. who asked him to do that 😵‍💫

[Rand to Aviendha] “Did you ever for one minute think that it could have bitten you?” he said. “Did you ever think of using the Power instead of a bloody belt knife? Why didn’t you kiss it first? You had to be close enough.”

they’re both so funny. yeah, avi and rand are also a similar kind of stupid, lol.

avi feeding rand the meat of a poisonous snake she killed is unironically the height of romance actually. and rand doesn’t complain, so I’m proud of him. anyway, I love her. have I mentioned that I love avi?

Aviendha sniffed at him in perfect imitation of Egwene. Those two women were definitely spending too much time together.

aw, avi is copying egwene’s mannerisms! back in chapter 5 she was also appreciating egwene and telling her that she was very good at everything she did <3 in chapter 22, we also have egwene stepping in to calm her down after rand yells at avi for nearly hurting him in the process of trying to kill a draghkar.

Aviendha appeared disappointed that he did not spit the stew out in disgust, though sometimes it was difficult to tell what she was feeling. At times she seemed to take great pleasure in discomfiting him.

sort of mat vibes from this, again! I think avi and mat could have been best friends if they’d tried. I’m honestly kind of shocked that we don’t see more of mat and the maidens being buddies except when he’s trying to catch their interest - because men and women can’t be friends, of course.

“You are thinking of Mat Cauthon?” She actually giggled. “Sometimes, a man gives up the spear for a Maiden.”

once again, weird mat gender moments! only maidens giving up the spear is really a thing in the books.

… he dreamed a dream of Min and Elayne helping him throw Aviendha, wearing nothing but that necklace, over his shoulder, while she beat him over the head with a wreath of segade blossoms.

wearing nothing but the necklace EGWENE gave avi? rand doesn’t know that egwene gave it but. anyway. more rand/egwene soulmatism, I guess.

Nothing after Artur Paendrag Tanreall, and nothing before Maecine of Eharon.

hello! mat’s memories have a specific limit apparently. but don’t the finn grant him memories of everybody who’s ever entered the redstone doorway? a bunch of rulers from mayene were using it pretty recently, I think? I need to look up the wiki later.

[Mat] He supposed that he would marry someday, settle down. That was what you did. A woman, a house, a family. Shackled to one spot for the rest of his life.

this is definitely another one of those mat things that are usually discussed in reference to female characters more often. and again, I vibe with the idea of him being allowed to be single - I think he has a lot of romantic tension with practically every character he interacts with, but I personally really relate to him saying he’s not interested in marriage. plus he just sounds so despondent about the prospect? I’m sad! very mat is repressed vibes too, because he specifically makes a note to mention disliking the thought of the two rivers having a lot of expectations about marriage, family etc.

“You are not made for spits, but for great honor, I think,” Melindhra said softly.

lol, melindhra and lanfear both try to get mat to step out of rand’s shadow and reach for honour/glory! and they both fail! I love mat. your faves want what mat has with rand - the narrative keeps goading him to become demandred 2.0 but mat consistently refuses to do so and manages to defy the narrative and some sort of potentially darker fate at least in that little way even if the prophecies mostly knock him down a bunch in the books.

It was being near Rand that got Mat into these things. All he wanted from life was some good wine, a game of dice, and a pretty girl or three.

hello??? three girls?? put him in rand’s polycule! again, mat is very repressed and in denial about his feelings.

once again poly vibes from melaine, dorindha and bael! the wise ones are betting on whether melaine will check on dorindha or bael first after the shadowspawn attack on the camp.

rand is wondering why moiraine didn’t come to find him immediately after the alarms went off - I’m guessing it’s because she saw a future in the rhuidean ter’angreal that said it wouldn’t be a good thing to do so.

rand is also showing a lot of restraint and being courteous! he’s not abusing the power he has over moiraine now - he briefly considers forcing her to tell him why she didn’t appear immediately but decides he won’t do something like that to somebody trying to help him. I think this is the section where rand is learning to find a balance - he’s come into a lot of power and is consciously preventing himself from abusing it.

This time he dreamed of Aviendha hurling fire, only she was not hurling it at a Draghkar, and Sammael was sitting at her side, laughing.

rand has the weirdest dreams about aviendha. what am I supposed to make of this.

I can’t shake off the feeling that avi would enjoy femininity if not for the way the wise ones sort of force her to adopt it? she genuinely enjoys exploring wearing wetlander clothes when she and elayne try to teach one another other about their respective customs. I just really dislike the line where sorilea tells avi that she has hips made for making babies - leave her alone. as a concept, I love the wise ones but I’m also irritated by their matchmaking and babymaking agenda.

avi and rand also do have a bunch in common - they’re forcibly expected to channel and are pushed into radically different lives from the ones they’ve been leading prior to rhuidean/rand finding out that he’s the dragon reborn.

[Egwene about Rand announcing he’ll hang chiefs who violate his rules about not hurting Cairhienin] Justice would do him no good if he found the others [the chiefs] turning against him as well as the Shaido.

see! she gets him!

He could waste an hour being soothed by the flow of a river.

Rand is so right.

When he doesn’t see familiar faces amongst the maidens who usually guard him, rand is constantly asking other maidens if they’re sick - it happened with joinde in rhuidean, and he’s now once again asking after adelin and enaila! I love this relationship sooo much.

Sitting on the stone rail of the wide flat bridge in the heart of the town,

area man sits weird again!

Elayne would have known what taxes were used for; it had certainly been more fun taking advice from her than from Moiraine.

I’m. I guess I agree about the principle of the thing I suppose, lol 😭

edit: help, this is also the book where we learn that two rivers folk are tax evaders! RJ is fully clowning on rand here, lol.

[Rand to Aviendha] “Do you have any idea how I will miss hearing you breathe at night?”

romance <3

He watched Asmodean from the corner of his eye, but the man only sat there, looking slightly ill. He could not know whether Rand meant to stuff that spear down his throat.

do I even need to say it?

ah, yeah, I did remember a weirdly specific fact correctly! avi accidentally taught rand the lesson of ~being hard~ when she told him he should have been harsher with the seanchan they dealt with. his demeanour completely shifts after that one exchange and he becomes noticeably colder - he’s a lot harsher with asmodean after this. insert tumblr post *having plot relevant sex with my thematically appropriate wife* (quite literally!)

And I’m only skimming chapter 41 but… there is so much going on in this quote. so much:

[Rand] He thought he could have been friends with any of the four, but especially Mangin, who had a sense of humor much like Mat’s. If he had no time to study women, he certainly had no time for making new friends. Little time for old friends, for that matter. Mat worried him.

I mentioned that a lot of mat’s personality was moulded as a direct consequence of being rand’s friend, but this is a lot! 1. rand loves mat’s sense of humour 2. rand makes friends based on that blueprint! hello, I’m crying. what does it MEAN that rand hangs mangin in LOC? is there some hidden symbolism there about how he’s left his boyhood behind? the hanging parallels are making me insane. does it imply that rand accidentally forces mat through a traumatic arc from books 7-9 the same way he can’t help but kill mangin for violating one of his laws? I will not be normal about this. local girl has been found dead on the streets!!!!!!!!

(I honestly skimmed everything from chapter 30 onward, I think, so there really was not much to say in this post - I never intended to really read much past rand arriving at eianrod, at most)

But I’ve officially finished rereading the parts I wanted to! I’d fully forgotten how the characters sounded in my head and I mostly wanted to go back and immerse myself in RJ’s writing style because I was not in a happy place after reading sanderson’s style in AMOL (literally to the point where I was wondering if I actually liked reading the series, lol). I think I managed to like TGS way better than I did the other sequels - but it kind of feels like TGS might have still been a mostly enjoyable read because he was piggybacking off of iconic plotlines that RJ had already set up and left notes for - but I’m consciously going to shut up about AMOL now. I only accept book 12 as canon at most anyway, lol, idk why I waste my energy yelling about the last two books at this point.

#mat repressionposting #this is a rand and egwene appreciation post #aelia reads wheel of time #aelia reads the fires of heaven #wheel of time #wot book spoilers #rand repressionposting #the rand/mat agenda only

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theoreticslut · 2 years

Text

「 bonfires, blankets, & s’mores 」

loki laufeyson x fem reader

summary: where bonfires in the waning warmth of autumn, a string of burnt marshmallows, and an unusual display of care brings you and loki closer together.

requested: no

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none

a/n: i had originally planned to post this back in october as a fictober type of thing, but we see how well that turned out. i think i’ve only posted one other loki fic to date so hopefully this is decent. as much as i love him, i don’t feel like i write him very well :/ this is definitely a softer side of him, but i hope you still like it! pls let me know! happy reading ♥

“But it’s so coooold.” You practically whine as you shiver in your seat.

“C’mon y/n, it’s not that bad.” Tony states, slightly rolling his eyes and chuckling at you.

The team had been hanging out around the tower the last week or so and they were all getting antsy apparently. They’ve somehow decided that a bonfire would be a great idea, even though it’s only been up in the 60s during the day.

“Even if it is cold, there’ll be a fire. Just scoot as close as you can for the warmth.” Nat states as if it’s obvious.

You pout, knowing she’s not wrong, but not liking the answer.

“Do any of you even know how to start a fire though?”

“Y/n…most of us have had at least some basics in survival training. You know that right?” She questions.

“No…look at how often I’ve ever actually seen any of you use them.” You quip, pouting as you realize there’ll be a bonfire regardless of your input.

~.~

You pout slightly as you try to pull your jacket even tighter around you in the evening air. Of course they all had to wait until dusk to even start the fire. How were none of them cold? It had to be in the low fifties right now if not colder.

As the fire slowly starts to build, you can’t help but let a smile fill your face. You can barely wait until you can sit in front of it, trying to gather any ounce of warmth it could provide.

“We’re back!” You hear someone bellow from the house. Without even looking you know it’s Thor. No one else is naturally that loud and happy, aside from maybe peter.

What you didn’t expect, however, was Loki to be with him. Loki never really cared for team gatherings like this, finding them more annoying than anything, which you can’t blame him for. Not when the avenger’s imprisoned him the first time they all met.

You were glad to see him though. You’ve have a bit of a soft spot for the mischievous god, and anytime he’s around is bound to be interesting.

You watch as Thor confidently makes his way towards the group of you, but your eyes are focused on Loki trailing behind him, looking annoyed as always until his eyes land on you.

“Hey, guys.” You smile and wave lightly, greeting the two gods.

“Y/n! Nice to see you again, friend.” Thor beams, pulling you up into a tight hug before you even realize it.

“Put her down, brother. You’re suffocating the poor maiden.” Loki states, seemingly bored by his brother’s personality.

Thor only laughs as he places you back on your own two feet. He, of course, checks you over to make sure he didn’t hurt you before playing it off.

“Sorry, y/n. I just got a little excited I suppose. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“It’s alright. Just…give me a warning next time.” You chuckle, absentmindedly pulling your jacket around you tighter as a slight breeze rolls through.

“Are you alright? You’re shivering.” He asks, his brows furrowing deeply in concern.

You nod, smiling to help convince him. Even though you’re frozen to your very core, you’d rather just bear with it instead of let anyone think you're weak or overdramatic.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He starts to frown, but before he can say anything Steve is calling to him. You smile as you find him looking rather conflicted. You can tell that he wants to make sure you’re alright, but at the same time he doesn’t want to leave Steve waiting.

“I’m good, Thor. I promise.” You convince.

“Alright, y/n. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Of course.” You chuckle, subtly hinting for him to go.

He nods, eyes lingering on you a moment more before he’s heading off in Steve’s direction. Sighing in slight relief, you can’t help but let a small frown take over your features as another breeze of cold air rolls through you.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Loki states from beside you.

“What makes you say that?” You ask, turning towards the raven-haired man.

“You are clearly not fine. Look at you, you’re practically shaking from the cold.”

“Did I not say I was cold? I don’t think you can consider me a liar if I did, loki.” You slightly tease.

“But you said - promised - that you’re fine. You’re clearly not.” He scoffs, conjuring a blanket for you before you can protest.

“Loki, I’m alright. I swear. A little cold air is not going to kill me. Soon as the fire is built up I’ll go warm up next to it.”

“You’re absolutely right that you will be, but for now you’ll take this blanket and bundle up.” He states, as serious as ever.

He drapes the material over your shoulders and you can’t deny that it’s warm - much warmer than just your jacket.

“Thank you, but you didn’t need to do that.” You smile shyly.

“I know I didn’t, but you don’t need to get sick from the cold.” He deadpans, subtly ending the topic there.

He may not always be the kindest person, but he has a bit of a soft spot for you, too. How could he not when you’ve never treated him with anything but kindness? Not to mention you’re rather adorable without even trying, & he’s definitely not blind.

“Well, thank you.” You murmur, not quite sure what to do with this kindness.

“Of course. Now let’s get you closer to the fire.” He encourages, subtly directing the both of you towards the rest of the avengers seated around the flames with his hand on the small of your back.

~.~

“Brother, I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to look.” Thor states, looking at the mostly burnt marshmallow Loki had been trying to toast.

“I see that.” Loki grumbles, frowning - and pouting - ever so lightly as he fails yet again at toasting a marshmallow for a s’more.

Sitting beside him, you can’t help but chuckle as he only continues to burn the poor treat. Within the last five minutes you swear he’s burned more marshmallows than he could ever eat just to make one s’more. He hasn’t bothered asking for help though, so you’ve let him continue on his own.

“Let me help.” You sigh, smiling lightly as you take the toasting stick from him, finally taking pity on the man.

He watches you, as do the others, as you clean off the burnt mess he made before sliding another marshmallow onto the stick. Only Loki, though, studies how you simply hover the treat over the flame, continuously rotating the stick.

“You make this look easy.” He sighs.

“I’ve toasted a lot of marshmallows.” You state, glancing over at him as he continues watching you.

“Making s’mores is one of my favourite things to do, though I prefer them during the summer when camping or after a day of swimming.”

He nods, a small smile gracing his lips as he takes the time to admire you while you’re focused on toasting the sugary treat. He’s never noticed just how perfectly defined your features are, nor has he noticed how vibrantly y/e/c your eyes are. Pairing all of this with your cold-bitten nose and your messy hair scrunching up around the blanket, he can’t help but find you otherworldly. How could one person be so beautiful doing the littlest of things?

“Hand me the graham crackers and chocolate, please.” You instruct, holding a hand out towards him, dragging him from his thoughts.

Silently he passes you two halves of graham cracker and a piece of chocolate, watching you intently as you rest the golden-brown marshmallow against the chocolate half of the graham cracker before squishing it between the other half.

“Here you go, loki.”

“Thank you.” He smiles before taking a bite of the treat.

“Oh. Th-that is delicious.”

You chuckle at his realization, happy to give him the chance to experience such a sweet.

~.~

It’s been hours now that you’ve all been out here, and now instead of just being cold, you’re tired as well.

Loki’s been noticing how sleepy you’ve gotten, even though you’ve been talking and laughing with the team all night. He knows you won’t leave on your own, regardless of how cold and tired you are because you’re just that stubborn.

When you start shivering again, however, this time even through the blanket he gave you, he decides it’s time to get you inside.

“Hey, you look rather cold and tired, love. Why don’t we head inside?” Loki offers, ignoring the soft conversations of the rest of the team.

You hum, nodding lightly as you try to hide a yawn and the racing of your heart at the pet name.

“Let’s go then, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” You blush slightly, smiling shyly as you avoid his gaze.

He nods, finding your tiredly shy demeanor rather endearing. He offers you a hand in getting up which you carefully take, a slight warmth blossoming in your body as your skin meets.

“We’re going to head inside. Y/n here is practically frozen.” Loki informs the group, all of them giving you short nods and waves of goodnight.

“See you later, y/n.” Steve calls to which you nod.

“You too. G’night everyone.”

With that, Loki softly places his hand on the small of your back, gently directing you towards the compound.

You easily let him guide you as you’re far too tired to care where you end up. Honestly, if he weren’t walking alongside you, you probably would pass out on one of the couches.

Opening the door for you, he can’t help but chuckle as you nearly moan in content at the warmth inside.

“Oh it’s so nice in here. I told them it was cold outside, but they didn’t care.” You pout, absentmindedly wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as a yawn escapes you.

“You didn’t have to stay out there with them, you know.” Loki softly states.

“I know, but I felt I should. I mean, I do really enjoy bonfires. Besides, how often is it that we all get time to just exist in calmness? Without having to train or prepare for a mission?”

“Fair enough, but you can’t sacrifice your well-being for others all the time.”

“I don’t. I take care of myself just fine.” You defend, but with a single look from him you know he disagrees.

“You’re too stubborn to leave for your own well-being, hence why you’re currently shivering through your clothes and a blanket. Not to mention you literally throw yourself into dangerous fights for people you don’t even know. How is that taking care of yourself?”

You try to come back with a valid counterpoint, but you can’t think of anything to truly justify your actions. Huffing and letting a pout form on your lips, you simply mumble out a “fair enough” which causes Loki to chuckle.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you into bed and warmed up.”

Nodding you let him guide you towards your room. It’s not a rare occurrence for Loki to be kind to you, but it’s still not something you’re used to.

Once inside your room he allows you the privacy to change into your pajamas, even though you were practically already in them, before he helps you into bed.

“Loki, would you stay? I’m not ready to sleep yet, but I don’t really want to lay here alone.”

“I suppose I could.” He agrees, sliding off his shoes. He gently climbs into the bed beside you, crawling under the blankets as you lift them up for him.

Once he’s settled, you find his arm wrapping around your body almost immediately, gently tugging you closer.

You can feel his body heat radiating off of him, which only helps to warm you up. You were a bit colder than you realized only after you got under the blankets. On top of that you can smell the woodsmoke on your hoodie and on him, mixed in with his already intoxicating cologne. Honestly, you’ve never felt more comfortable than you are right now.

Sighing contently, you sink into the covers more and unconsciously wiggle closer to Loki who doesn’t fail to notice.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, a small smile gracing his face as he watches you.

“Mhm. Are you?” You answer, looking up at him for his answer.

“Very. Now get some sleep, love. You need it.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. It’s nice laying here with you. It’s warm…and cozy.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest which you’re resting on.

“You’re cute, you know that?” He asks.

“Am I?”

“Mhm. Even more so when you’re all tired like you are now.” He murmurs, turning ever so slightly to hold you closer to him more comfortably.

You sigh, taking in his woodsmoke tinted scent, more than happy to lay like this for hours on end. It’s odd given the fact the two of you can barely be called friends, but you think you’ve always kind of known you’ve liked him more than in a platonic sense.

You may not be close, but you have this effortless connection you can’t imagine having with anyone else.

“Thank you for the s’more earlier. I don’t even want to think of how many more marshmallows I would have gone through before figuring it out.”

“I’m just glad you liked it, loki.” You smile, sighing softly as you curl into his side more, getting more and more comfortable.

“It was amazing…just like you, y/n.”

“Mm. Sounds like you fancy me, loki.” You tease, yawning as you do so.

He smiles at your words, knowing more than anything that he does. He’s not quite sure when it happened, or how, but he does fancy you. Quite a lot.

“Maybe I do, love.”

At your lack of response he turns his attention to you, finding you already in a deep slumber, happily buried in the covers and resting on his chest.

He can’t stop the warm wave of adoration that floods his chest at the sight. What he wouldn’t give to have you fall asleep in his arms every night.

Smiling softly to himself, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before getting comfortable himself and shutting his eyes, more than happy to sleep next to you all night.

________________________________________________________

marvel: @eunoia-kth @goddessofdawns @jrj2 @luvshack @chewymoustachio @axen-gers @mollysolo @hpotterwhore @teenwolfbitches28 @justmesadgirl @jackys-stuff-blog @pandaxnienke @kitkatkaitin @accio-remus-lupin @averyhotchner @daedreams

#mcu #marvel #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff

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diamond-coral · 3 years

Text

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:)

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes.

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #non-con #bucky x female reader #dark!fic #loki x reader #avengers #idk how to tag this #fanfic #am i doing this tag thing right?#no i'm not #smut #dark!mcu #marvel #dark bucky x reader #dark!marvel

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 6: Hand Kink

Day 6 of Kinktober! Already almost a week in, huh… I figured I’d dip into the rich Japanese side of mythology this time. I hope this is an acceptable tribute… Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. Trigger warnings for violence mentioned including physical assault, some family abuse dynamics, implied sexual assault (does not actually happen), and mild descriptions of death. Also sexual content including soft dom themes, PinV unprotected sex, entirely consensual.

Tags: Beast Youkai x reader, fox spirit x reader, exophilia, terato

Small Sun Showers

“It’s such a small thing, really.”

You slid the bag you’d brought into the hollow of the old tree. Avoiding the ropes strung around, you carefully sat on the rock next to the tree.

“I brought you some sweet buns, this time, with poppy seeds,” you said, ignoring the comment that had come from the dark hollow. “Since you said you missed some of the herbs.”

The sound of crinkling came from the hole, followed by the sounds of munching. “Attentive to me, as always, sweet one,” the disembodied voice cooed, though a moment later burning orange eyes stared at you from the darkness.

You studiously avoided the gaze, looking down at the grass under your feet. A sliver of shadow from the abandoned warehouse nearby fell over you, giving you some shade from the warm sun. As always, you didn’t respond to the epithets. You never did.

“How is the temple doing?” The voice asked.

“It’s fine,” you answered, almost automatically. “The festival is coming up soon, so everyone is excited.”

“And yet you do not, hmm?” The eyes tilted, as though the head had cocked at her curiously.

Your eyes slid away, more towards the forest beyond the tree. Unconsciously, your fingers tugged at the long sleeves you wore, despite the warm weather.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted. “As a Shrine Maiden, I’m supposed to be doing the Miko Kagura. I’ve been practicing, but…”

“You wear long sleeves again.” A hint of suspicion crept into the voice.

Despite yourself, you flinched. “I— I’m just-“

A low growl issued from the tree. “A spirit has been harassing you again, hasn’t it. Why haven’t you called an exorcist? Or told your Father, the Priest?”

You turned your head away. “It’s been contracted by someone else,” you admitted, voice thin. “I… can’t tell Papa.”

A pause. “Because it was bought at a high price.” A sneer laced the voice. “Then how do you plan to get rid of it? You can’t hold it off forever yourself. And it’s already injured you, hasn’t it.”

You shook your head. “I’ll find out a way. I can’t bother anyone else with it.” Your eyes slid closed, the bruises mottled up your arm throbbing.

“Or you could create a contract with something far more powerful,” came the slick purr. “If you’d only break the talisman, I would make a contract with you, sweet one.” The sealed beast offered, for not the first time.

“You are a beast youkai,” you answered, voice steady. “It is against your nature to bind yourself to anyone, much less become the guardian spirit of a small temple.” You reminded both him and yourself.

“Unless we have reason. Even the mightiest of beasts might be swayed by beauty such as yours.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips as you turned your face away. You? As if. The beast youkai only even spoke to you because you gave it food and paid attention to it out of your own loneliness, not because it somehow cared about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to really believe that.

With a soft sigh, you plucked at your sleeves. “What do you want me to bring you next time?”

But the voice stayed quiet for a moment. When it spoke again, something in its voice had changed. “Do you truly not believe me? I do not lie when I say that I would bind myself to you. I would never let you be injured. I would protect you, like your family cannot. I would hold you close,” the voice said, a dreamy tone in its voice, “and I would shower you with everything you deserve.”

You fought the tears that welled in your eyes as you abruptly stood, grabbing your bag. “If you don’t have any requests, I’ll just bring anything,” you interrupted, struggling to make sure your voice didn’t waver.

A sigh, so soft that you wondered if it were only the wind. “A meat bun.”

You nodded, then headed back down the hillside towards home. Reaching up, you angrily smeared your tears from your cheeks, breath hitching on your sobs.

You could never allow yourself to believe the words of a youkai, much less a powerful and dangerous one like him. No matter how sweet his words, how genuine they sounded… Everyone always lied to you. He would be no exception.

You tried to ignore the little part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, dying at the hands of the youkai would be better than continuing the misery of your life.

“Fouuuund youuuu.” A yawning mouth sprang from the darkness, black eyes fixed with crazed bloodlust on your body.

You dropped to the floor, scrambling across the hardwood to slide towards the doorway. Leaping back up, you ran for your life. Your breaths came fast and shallow as you blindly ran, tripping through the dark halls of the temple. Behind you, you could hear cackling laughter as its talons scrabbled after you.

You reached out your hand, then burst though the main doors, stumbling across the stones out front. Looking up, you froze.

An entire group of men stood in front of you, all staring at you with leering, jeering faces. The one in the front, the one your brain automatically assumed was the leader, stepped forwards.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” He grinned, his eyes sliding over your shoulder.

Something grabbed your arm, wrenching you back. You stifled a cry, sinking your teeth into your lip as claws brutally dug into the bruises already all up your arm. The spirit held you, its tight grip almost unbearable.

“I guess the boy must really hate his family, huh?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets as he stared at you down his nose. Reaching out with his foot, he kicked at you like some sort of trash. “To think that he’d offer his own younger sister in exchange for his debts.”

Your heart sank. Of course. Your brother who had gotten into debt with the yakuza. Of course he’d offer you: the only girl, the precious little shrine maiden.

Sadly enough, it didn’t even surprise you. But at least now you figured out why the spirit had haunted you in particular so insistently, and how much trouble you were in. Which, you snorted bitterly to yourself, was a lot. Probably at risk of your life, at best.

A wild thought flashed through your head, desperate but somehow… insistent. Your eyes briefly scanned the crowd of men. You were smaller than most of them, and probably in better shape at this point. If you managed to get a brief head start, you weren’t too far away— enough to maybe be able to get there just fast enough. But you’d have to immobilize the spirit first, at least temporarily.

Thickly, you swallowed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply. You had enough. Just enough for one— Your other hand landed on the spirit’s as your eyes flew open. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, letting go of you as the searing spiritual energy burst through your palm. You didn’t hesitate.

Breaking into a dead sprint, you headed straight for the hill behind the temple. Behind you, you could hear the angry shouts of the men as they started after you. You pushed yourself, ignoring it, taking as many shortcuts as you could, heart pounding in your ears as you gasped for air. Your legs were starting to ache, and you could hear them gaining on you; but the warehouse was in sight.

Skidding around the corner, you ran straight for the tree. Your hand reached for the talisman.

When the yakuza men caught up to you, they found you kneeling at the base of the tree, a shattered seal at your feet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whispered into the hollow. “Please… if you help me, just this once… I’ll give you myself in exchange,” you promised weakly.

“It’s too late now, little girl,” the boss sneered, starting to step towards you. “You’re coming with us.”

But before he could say anything more or another move was made, a dark mist began to swirl around the area. Shouts of confusion arose as the mist covered everything, too dark to see through, almost too dark to even move in safely. A low, grating laugh spilled from the darkness, just as you felt yourself being lifted up.

Startled, you gasped softly and clung to the solidity you could feel under your fingers. Lips parted, you stared at the familiar orange eyes that slowly materialized in front of you. A wide, fanged grin split the darkness underneath the eyes; and slowly, a body started to emerge from the swirling dark mist.

“Well hello there, my sweet one,” the familiar voice cooed. Long, pitch black hair tied in a low ponytail framed a pale face. The beast youkai, one that you now recognized as a Fox, held you effortlessly in one arm, pulling you close to his chest. He towered above the ground, dwarfing you in every way possible. His entire hand curled around almost your entire thigh.

You swallowed. “H-hello,” you whispered tremulously, not even sure what to think at this point.

“You released me,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on you. He leaned forward, and his nose brushed against your cheek as a soft purr rumbled through his chest, reverberating down into you.

Your fingers clenched in his robe, surprise flittering through you that he wasn’t… leaving. Or killing you.

“My brave darling,” the youkai fairly gushed, nosing against you. “Now I can finally fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?” you repeated dumbly, mind whirling. What-?

He chuckled. “I told you, didn’t I? That I would contract with you, if you set me free. Protect you, cherish you as you should be.”

He’d actually meant it? What?

“I…” You stared up at his orange eyes, fixed on you intensely. Your breath stuck in your throat as the familiar ache of longing overcame you. Reminded you of your stupidity, falling in love with the beast youkai that you thought would never even glance at you if he were free.

“Of course I’ll do anything for you,” he purred, his tongue flicking out to briefly lick away the tear-streak on your cheek. “As if I would deny you when you offer me the one thing I truly desire more than anything else.” He grinned, eyes sparking. “You.”

And then his fingers tilted your chin up, and your eyes squeezed shut as his lips landed on yours. The kiss was warm and soft, surprisingly so. You could feel your spiritual energy gravitating towards him, could feel it wrapping around him, infusing him, as he made a contract binding him to you and your spiritual energy. He reluctantly let go of your lips, the dizzying kiss making your head spin as you gasped for breath.

“My name is Kaz, sweet one,” he murmured, orange eyes half-lidded in simmering contentment.

Unthinkingly, you repeated the name. “Kaz…”

His eyes glowed. “Now then. Why don’t we start with these filth?”

In the next moment, the mist cleared to reveal that everyone now stood in the empty warehouse. Kaz still held you in his arm, keeping you close against his chest as he stared at the yakuza men starting to reorient themselves.

The boss cursed, glaring at you and Kaz. “Hand her over,” he spat, bristling. “She’s ours.”

But Kaz only laughed, his teeth baring as feral glee glittered in his eyes. “Give you my precious shrine maiden?” he cackled. “Didn’t you ever consider the fact that she is in fact a shrine maiden at a temple, with her own powerful spiritual energy? Enough to make a contract with a powerful beast like me?” He licked his lips. “And your blood… smells wonderful.”

Some of the men started to look wary, clearly leery about the sheer size of Kaz, especially in comparison with you.

Kaz tilted his head toward you, just as he flicked his fingers. A soft sort of puffy cloud materialized beside him, and he gently set you on it. “Stay here while I get rid of these nuisances,” he said gently, his fingers brushing across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” With one last sickeningly sweet smile, he turned towards the men. A sword materialized in his hand, practically the size of your entire body.

You looked away, bile rising in your throat. The blood drained from your face as you heard the men screaming, the sound of the carnage making you reach up to clap your hands over your ears. Though you were sure the men were far from innocent or deserving of mercy, the brutality of their deaths was undeniable. A high-pitched, inhuman shriek indicated that the spirit they’d contracted had also been shredded by Kaz.

It made you wonder. How powerful was Kaz, exactly-?

After another moment, you felt Kaz lift you up again in his arm. Eyes flying open, you grasped at his shoulders as he pulled you close against himself again. His other blood-spattered hand still held his sword, but his eyes were adoringly fixed on you.

Reaching up, you absently wiped away a tiny drop of blood off of his jaw. “Thank you,” you whispered. Despite yourself… you felt safe.

His eyes visibly lit up, and his grin widened as he gazed up at you. “Ah, my darling praises me!” You could swear his eyes had hearts in them. “Do I get a kiss?” His grin turned teasing.

You swallowed thickly. “I… I promised you myself if you helped me,” you said weakly. “It’s all I can really give you… besides my spiritual energy—“

Kaz leaned forwards, his face so close that you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “Be my bride,” he whispered, his voice a heady murmur.

You breath hitched. “K-Kaz?” Had you… heard him right-?

“You offered me yourself, darling,” he purred. “So, be my bride. I am contracted to you, aren’t I? So I will be an impertinent beast and ask the shrine maiden to be my bride without shame.”

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered.

He paused, as though he himself didn’t believe you’d agreed.

Because you both knew that as a youkai contracted to someone with spiritual energy, you had the power to entirely command him to do anything… and deny him anything. Yet here you were, agreeing to be his bride.

“Okay, Kaz,” you repeated, not meeting his eyes. You could feel the color splash across your face.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t as though you really had many other options. Kaz could promise you some sort of safety even against your own family, and his power was certainly enough to protect you against other youkai. It had taken one of the highest-complexity talismans to even seal him away in the first place, and you could already feel through the contract how powerful he was.

The idea of being his bride… wasn’t really disagreeable.

“Darling,” Kaz breathed. His lips gently slid against yours, the touch soothing and almost… grounding. “I’ll be a most devoted husband, I promise,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes and decided that you would try to believe.

The talisman had been such a small thing, really.

You smiled as you walked down the street, stretching your hand out to gather the raindrops that pattered down and pooled in your palm. The weather had been beautiful, but despite the warm sunshine and hardly a cloud being in the sky, it had still decided to rain.

Pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk, you lifted your face and let the raindrops splash against your face in a cooling shower. You loved the rain, the way it seemed to wash away all your heavy worries and soothe the ragged edge in your soul.

A shadow fell over you, and you opened your eyes to see Kaz standing above you, smiling down at you. He leaned down and swept you up into his arm, one hand holding your thigh while the other wrapped around your waist. A startled laugh fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders.

“Is my darling enjoying the fox wedding?” he cooed.

You flushed, just then realizing the common name for the burst of cloudless rain. You gave him a shy smile, then nodded.

He chuckled. “Should we celebrate, sweet one? I can give you a gift, if you like.” Between one breath and another, he’d shifted you both somewhere else.

You gasped, eyes widening as you saw that you were floating on a soft, wispy cloud, now deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. A place no other people were, where the rain pattered softly against the leaves of the trees and dripped to the undisturbed grasses below. Flowers bloomed beneath your cloudy carpet ride, and you leaned over to brush your fingers through the colorful blooms.

The cloud rose a little, coming to a stop and floating peacefully. Kaz pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapping around your entire waist. He smiled, watching your expressions as you looked around in delight.

“And what do you think of your wedding veil, my darling bride?” Kaz murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against your hair.

You looked down at the long, wispy cloud under you, and smiled. “It’s pretty. Thank you, Kaz.” You tilted your head back to smile at him.

His orange eyes flared, and he caught your lips in a burning kiss that seared through you like foxfire. Letting out a surprised squeak, you grasped his robe, fingers tangling in it for support as he pulled you closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Your head spun as your eyes fluttered closed.

When he finally parted, you gasped a little for air, blinking dazedly. His hand gently slid up your waist and side, sliding to your back, pulling you flush against him. He pressed another kiss to your lips. You realized, with a burst of embarrassment, that the rain had entirely soaked your shirt, plastering it to your body and leaving rather little to the imagination.

“Darling, my darling,” Kaz murmured against your lips, “won’t you let me touch you?” His hands slid down your body, fingers caressing you sensually.

You bit your lip, heat staining your face. It wasn’t fair. He knew your weakness for his hands. His large, strong hands that held you close, admired your body with touch. His calloused, capable hands that protected you, defended you, worked for you.

You nodded shyly, peeking up at him. Your lips parted in a gasp as his hands slid under your shirt, starting to map out your skin. His tongue slid against yours in a soft kiss, almost distracting you from how his hands deftly explored your body.

It almost startled you when your back landed against the cloud, Kaz hovering above you with his hands wrapped around your waist. His robe slipped open, sliding down his shoulders as he observed you with burning eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” he purred, his hands trailing down to your pants. “Can I touch? Please?”

Shyly, you nodded, one hand over your mouth as you let out a quiet whimper, chest heaving with breath. Kaz’s hands were so broad, so warm… handled you with such a reverent sort of gentility and softness that you couldn’t help but bask in it, melt into it.

A steady purr rumbled through his chest as he kissed his way down your jaw and neck, fingers sliding into your pants and underwear to pull them off. Sliding his hands under you, he pulled your body up against him, lips sliding across yours.

Your hands braced you against his chest as you gasped, feeling his cock land heavily against your stomach. It throbbed against you, but he quickly distracted you as one hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his mouth hot against your skin.

“So tiny and sweet,” Kaz mumbled against your neck, his voice half-drunk. His fingers slid across your thigh wrapped around his waist, and he lowered his hips, pushing you into the plush softness of the cloud. Your mind started to fuzz, entirely focused on the way his hands grasped at you, somehow greedy and gentle all at once, and the way he handled you with that deft confidence yet tender infatuation.

“Kaz,” the moan left your lips before you could quite help it, your entire body humming at every brush of his fingers.

His answering hum was low and amused as he started to gently slide into you, making you gasp and arch. His cock slid into you without resistance. You’d gotten so wet just thanks to his soft touches and gentle attention. He murmured your name against your lips as he slid wholly into you, seating himself inside with a heavy breath.

You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to somehow ground yourself. Everything had started to go fuzzy, especially as his hands wrapped entirely around your hips and pulled you down onto his cock, his grasp iron as he ground up into you.

His pace, once he started thrusting, stayed steady and almost agonizingly slow. But when you whined, he chuckled and slid his fingers between your lips instead. You let his lithe fingers gently play with your tongue, while his other hand kept you anchored to him.

You could feel the coil inside you steadily growing, getting tighter, closer to the edge. Everything felt so hazy and light, like the solidity of his body was the only real thing, the only think that mattered. Like his hands were the only things that kept you grounded, held you down, safe from drifting away.

“K-Kaz.” Your teary eyelids opened to gaze up at his face.

“Does this please you, my darling?” Kaz murmured, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and down to press against your clit.

“I— I love you.” Your fingers curled against his chest.

His orange eyes widened, then flooded with that pure, infatuated adoration. “I love you, my sweet darling,” he purred, kissing you. “And I am so entirely yours.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you with a force that left you lightheaded and dizzy. The pleasure suffused your entire body until you were gasping, tears streaking down your cheeks as you whimpered.

You finally floated down from your high to the feeling of Kaz’s hands sweeping over you. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin. He pulsed inside you, but still kept his pace slow and steady as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His hands clenched around your hips, and he let out a groan as he rested his head beside yours. You could tell that he was so close, his hips starting to stutter.

“You feel so lovely, so warm and tight and soft, darling,” Kaz groaned. “Please, can I—“

“It’s okay, Kaz,” you reassured sweetly, voice shy. “You can.”

He jerked one more time, sinking into you with a low groan. His entire body shuddered as he came, pouring into you as he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints. For once, you didn’t mind the bruises.

Pulling back, he caught your lips in a deep kiss, mouth slanting over yours. He poured the love, the gratitude, the adoration between your lips until you felt as though you could drown in it.

“I will always protect you,” he promised against your lips.

And for once, you believed the promise.

It was such a small thing, really.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #my writing #mywriting #x reader #kinktober #fox spirit x reader #Youkai #japanese mythology #Youkai x reader #Exophilia #monster x human #nsft #smut #terato #monsterboyfriend #monsterlover #monsterfucker #x you

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no--envies · 3 years

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I see a lot of people chalking up the fact that WWX wasn't immediately ready to acknowledge his feelings for LWJ to heteronormativity and/or internalized homophobia, but I think there are more layers to this.

First of all, I don't believe WWX had internalized society's negative opinion on homosexuality. It isn't in his nature to let other people's opinions influence him and when he finally realized his feelings, he didn't feel ashamed or disgusted. He was even totally comfortable while acting like a lunatic cut-sleeve and pretending to be gay for LWJ all the time, so he clearly didn't consider being gay as something shameful, he just thought it didn't have anything to do with him personally. He never thought anything disrespectful about queer people even when he believed he wasn't one.

The fact that he didn't realize he liked LWJ as a teenager is mostly due to the heteronormative society he lived in. He knew queer people existed, but he had probably never met any. He liked flirting with girls and reading heterosexual porn books, so he assumed he was straight. It's not that he had internalized homophobia, he simply didn't connect the dots since his attempts to attract LWJ's attention and tease some reactions out of him could easily be interpreted as him wanting to be friends with someone he deeply respected and considered his equal. He didn't consider any other possibility because he didn't think about it too much. They didn't even have that many interactions back then and he didn't have any sexual thoughts about LWJ when he was young, he only considered him beautiful (while LWJ's crush was much more intense from the start). Besides, love wasn't on the list of his priorities during all of his first life. He had much more pressing matters to think about ever since he was seventeen.

Even though heteronormativity did prevent WWX from connecting the dots about his sexuality sooner, I don't think it was the only thing that held him back.

WWX seemed to have an ambivalent attitude towards love in his first life: on one hand he was saving his first kiss for someone special, suggesting he was a romantic at heart, on the other hand he never actually tried to pursue a relationship with anyone and even told JYL that he didn't have any intention of liking someone "too much", because it was like "putting a rein on his neck".

Wei WuXian, “Why would someone like another person? I mean that kind of like.”

Jiang YanLi paused for a moment, musing, “Why are you asking me about this? Do you like someone? What kind of a maiden is she?”

Wei WuXian, “No. I won’t like anyone. At least not too much. Wouldn’t it be the same as putting a rein on my neck?”

(Chapter 71)

For someone like WWX - an indomitable free spirit who will never let anyone dictate what he should or shouldn't do, used since his childhood to taking care of himself without relying on anyone's help - it's not actually that strange that he would think something like that. It might be for several reasons, like not wanting to feel completely vulnerable with another person (since he often acts like nothing can hurt him) or feeling he would lose part of his freedom if he was devoted to someone else. But all of this doesn't matter when it comes to LWJ, because not only does LWJ have the same values and outlook as him, but he would never hinder his freedom and would always be there to catch him and give him unconditional support. After realizing this, WWX no longer had any reason not to want to fall in love.

This is why it was so important that LWJ was there for him after his identity was exposed at Koi Tower, and his frequent reminders of "I am here". WWX started to trust LWJ's presence in his life as something steady that wouldn't be taken away. It's no coincidence that their escape from Koi Tower marked the moment WWX started flirting more consciously with LWJ and thinking about him in a more explicitly romantic way, until he thought he wanted to marry him in the ancestral hall, after the second siege of the Burial Mounds. WWX was finally ready to completely open his heart to someone, to be totally accepted by another person and to totally accept that person in turn.

In my opinion, WWX's journey in acknowledging his feelings is not just about realizing he wasn't straight. It was only after spending a lot of time with LWJ, seeing LWJ was really the perfect match for him, that he could totally embrace his feelings and entrust all of himself to him. Before that, love simply wasn't a priority for him.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #wei wuxian #wei ying #wangxian #lan wangji

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blossomingimagines · 3 years

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Salvation

Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,134

Summary:

Notes: I hope you enjoy this. (For @yukinechan021)

The ground beneath your feet was crumbling. Giving way due to your manic pace as you flew through the underbrush. Your hands barely have enough time to raise up to protect yourself. The small twinges of pain that appeared because of the brambles and low-hanging branches barely making an impact on you. You had only one goal in mind. Only one purpose as you took another sharp turn around a bend.

Run.

You could still hear the screams from your village. Hear the distorted voices in the distance calling out for help. Hear the horrid sound being interjected with the ravenous howls of hungry beasts.

The smell of blood and decay reaching you before the first animal ever did. Your father taking hold of you and shoving you towards the wood. His gaze desperate as he said his last words to you. “Go, Y/N. Run like you’ve never run before. They’re here now. Mother Miranda isn’t going to protect us any longer.”

You had hesitated. You didn't want to leave your father but he hadn’t let you. His gentle nudges becoming incessant shoves towards the foliage. “You need to run, iepuraș. Don’t look back no matter what you hear. Just keep running.”

With his words, you had done just as he told you. Trying to not let the screaming or the howls stop you. Trying to not let the fear shining in his eyes stop you. You didn’t want to think about what it meant for your father when the beasts finally did reach him.

Skidding to a stop, your chest heaves as you take in your surroundings. You knew that you had to begin moving soon. It was only a matter of time before the beasts caught your scent. You had only a small window of opportunity before you’d be captured too.

The sight of rustic stone work causes you to blanche. Fear shooting through your body as the knowledge of where you were came rushing to you. Castle Dimitrescu; the one place you had always been warned to never venture near. The tales of bloodshed and twisted horrors doing little to persuade you to try. Its foreboding presence is always looming over your village for as long as you’ve been alive. You never thought you would ever see it up close.

The intricate stonework winding up towards grand towers in the sky. Its color is a rich black in the setting light of day. You could tell that the castle was old, even barring the tales you had heard about it, from the weathered quality to its structure. Even though it was no doubt still taken care of. Standing the test of time despite everything.

A chilling feeling works its way up your spine. Causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. Your body stiffening as a cold cackle reverberates through the air. A sharp breath catching in your throat at the faint shifting of metal against the ground.

“Well, well, well.” The gruff voice purrs. “What do we have here? I don’t believe my dear sister let you out of your cage. So you must be a village girl.”

Flinching away from the strong grip suddenly on your face, your head is unceremoniously jerked towards the speaker. To a man with dark glasses and a cruel smirk on his face. Amusement clearly dancing through the expression. A twisted sense of glee lighting up his face even more when he saw your fear. “It’s a pity the doggies didn’t get to you too.” He pauses before a broad smile pulls his lips up. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun with you. Oh, Mother Miranda is going to love you.”

Your brow furrows. “Mother Miranda?”

At your words a bark-like laugh falls from his lips. “Yes, child, Mother Miranda. I do hope she’ll let me have you. You’d make the most interesting tool in my games. I’m certain we’d have a blast. Well,” His head tilts to the side. “I know I would.”

Trying to jerk your head away from his hold, you couldn’t stop the pleas from leaving your mouth. “I don’t have anything worth giving you. No money to my name or family that would be willing to pay it. I have nothing of value that you’d want to take.”

“Oh that’s not true child. You shouldn’t sell yourself so short.” His hand loosens ever-so-slightly but it does little to abate your nerves. Especially as his other hand shifts his hammer.

“I don’t have anything. Please.”

He grins. “While I do love to hear a beautiful maiden such as yourself beg, I must decline. As you do have something very special you can give me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Fear began to run through your body as the man grew closer. “What?”

His face once again twists into a dark sense of amusement. “Your life.”

You didn’t see his other hand move. Didn’t hear or feel anything except for the sharp crack of pain against your skull. Your world is immediately consumed by darkness.

Only the sound of his maniacal laughter following you.

-----

The rough stone scraping along your back is what roused you next. Your eyes blearily blinking open as you’re unceremoniously left against the hard ground. The basic stone ceiling being all that kept your attention for the moment. You could tell already, without even having to move too much, that you were restrained. The heavy presence of metal feeling like a sentence.

To what? You weren’t sure.

“Why did you bring her here, Heisenberg? She’s of no use to me.”

The female voice that spoke was familiar to you. You couldn’t quite grasp from where but you knew that you had heard it before. Lifting your head off the ground, you’re finally met with the sight of your captors.

A sight that quickly causes a chill to run down your spine.

Your original captor, Heisenberg, was lounged against a couch. A calm nonchalance surrounding him as a gleeful smile took over his features. His cruel intent still being as palpable even from the distance you were now at.

A hunched over figure standing just behind him. A crown of bones situated atop its head as heavy breathing reached your ears. The grotesque form causes your stomach to churn at the very sight. You had to turn your head away from it.

The other was in the form of a doll. Your body flinched away ever-so-slightly as it drew nearer. Its lifeless staring at you with something akin to interest before it scampers away. The clear barking order for it to do so coming from the woman who had spoken.

A woman that was standing in the middle of them all. Her black dress and veil obscuring the majority of her features from you. Though you could still feel the tangible power that radiated off of her body. The command she clearly held over the people in the room.

Mother Miranda-- through and through. No one but her held that type of power. The pull that she had on people.

It was a spell that was only broken by the arrival of the fifth person.

A heavy, yet graceful, gait announcing their presence before they even appeared. The faint clicking of heels against the stone floor telling you where they were. That they were growing closer and closer towards you by the second. Your body is already tensing at what monstrosity you would be subjected to at their arrival.

Nothing would have ever prepared you for what you saw.

A woman stops just within your field of vision. Glowing golden eyes taking in the room with a vague sense of interest. Painted red lips pulled into a small smirk as she finally settled her gaze on you. Raven black locks standing out against her pallid skin. Her clear beauty stands out even through the darkness. But that wasn’t what caused your breath to catch.

It wasn’t the way an exotic tinge of danger exuded from her.

It wasn’t because of the way she gracefully moved through the room. Her white dress shifted against her form with every minute movement.

It wasn’t even because of the way the dress looked on her body.

No. It all had to do with her height. She stood taller than any person you had ever seen; man or woman. Her imposing height did little to detract from natural elegance that seemed to lace itself within her movements. In fact it only seemed to enhance it.

Mother Miranda’s voice interrupted your thoughts. Your gaze being torn from her form towards Miranda’s. “You’re late, Alcina. I expect better from you.”

The woman, Alicna, offers an almost apologetic smile towards Mother Miranda. Her colossal from resting easily against the backrest of the couch. Her ankles crossing in the manner that only seemed to come from habit.

“I apologize, Mother Miranda. I got caught up with affairs at the castle.” She dips her head towards the black-cloaked woman. “It won’t happen again.”

Miranda sneers. “Make sure it doesn’t.” Pausing for a brief moment, Mother Miranda seemed to observe the room. Clear contemplation taking up most of her concentration-- until her gaze once again landed on you. “Now it’s time to figure out what we’re going to do with our little friend.”

Almost immediately Alcina and Heisenberg speak up.

“I found her. It should be I that gets to keep her.” No. Anything but that.

“I would have the most use of her. She does look quite appetizing.” I don’t think I want to know what that means.

At Alcina’s words, Heisenberg scoffs. “I’ll have the most use of her, dear sister. You’ll just hide her away in the private rooms of your castle. In the dark. Playing games with her that would end like it started; boringly.” He turns towards Mother Miranda. “Let me have her. I know exactly what I wish to do.”

“And you’ll just toy with her for only a few moments before she’s crushed by one of your contraptions. There’s no finesse to what you do, dear brother.” Her golden gaze flickers towards you for a moment. An almost contemplative look flashing across her beautiful features. “I’ll make sure I have something spectacular planned for her.”

Mother Miranda speaks before they can argue any further. And by the tone of slight agitation in her voice you can tell that this was a common occurrence. Your body shifted away from her ire even as you were restrained, almost painfully, from moving any further.

“Enough. Alcina you will get the girl.” At Heisenberg’s whine, she snaps at him. “There will not be any more complaints regarding this issue. You’re dismissed.”

The next time you blinked she was gone.

Your head is already plopping down against the ground. Despite the harsh greeting it got in response. You couldn't believe that this was your life now. You had just been sold to a woman, while undeniably attractive, that would sooner rip out your spine then let you walk free.

At least it wasn’t Heisenberg.

The thought only brings you a modicum of comfort.

The sudden looming shadow around doing quick work to wipe out what was left. Your eyes trailing up well muscled legs, across a white-clad torso, an elegant neck, to finally reach her amused gaze. Even if her amusement was tinged with a darker entity that you truly didn’t want to think about.

“Well, darling, it looks like you’re all mine,” she purrs as she leans towards you. Her hand coming up to brush against your cheek. Whether it be a way for her to maintain control or for her to know what you felt like; you hadn’t the slightest idea. “Aren’t you going to say anything to me? I did just save you from my brother.”

You still weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Raising your gaze to meet hers, you clench your jaw. Trying to prepare a biting retort to her clear teasing. Hoping that you’d be able to get even with her in some small way. If you were going to die you were going to die your way.

However, the moment you opened your mouth, another two words appeared. “You’re beautiful.”

The moment that words slipped from your lips, you could feel your face heat up. Your body automatically tensing at the knowledge of you had just said to her. Fortunately she seemed to be just as floored as you. Shock clearly showing itself across her elegant features before an almost feral smile takes its place. Her arms wrapping around to hoist you in the air.

But, before she did, she whispered one last thing towards you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, pet.”

#lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimistrescu x reader #lady dimistrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil viii #resident evil village #resident evil imagine #salvation

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bakulova · 3 years

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Resident Evil Characters w/ a chubby S/o

Alcina Dimitrescu:

I think because of her chest size and her thickness she herself would be a little chubby. She’d probably have a belly love pouch . So she would definitely understand you if you were insecure about your body. But I also think she would help you love your body like she love on yours. When you are feeling very insecure about your body she will make sure to comfort you by kissing you everywhere and I mean everywhere stomach, legs, anywhere your stretch marks reach. Also when you try to go on a diet she will support you all the way but when she starts to notice its taking a toll on you, she stops you. she doesn’t want you to get hurt. She panics anytime you do that, she can’t help it. She definitely scolds you and shows her vulnerability after scolding you. Tearing up and holding you in her arms is a must. After that you kinda use that as a motivation to love yourself more.

She walks into you guys bedroom to which she finds you crying. Tissues spread all over the bed. You mid blow. She takes off her hat and her gloves. She sits in the side of the bed and worriedly holds your hand. “My dear? What’s wrong” Your head held down “Nothing” She moves closer and holds you face with her hands. “Clearly something is wrong” you try to move away, feeling ashamed. “No don’t move away from me love. Please tell me what is wrong?” you sigh and look her dead in the eye “Some maidens were talking about my eating habits and... my looks, wondering how I could be with someone so beautiful like you...” her heart almost burst with rage. Eyes in flames wanting find this maiden and kill them. “Who was it my dear?” she caresses your face with her thumbs. You weakly say “the one with a big birthmark under her left eye” Alcina immediately knew. Her daughters were always telling her about this maid doing something stupid but she was her favorite maid because she got the work done. I guess the praise got to her head. Time to take care of the problem but for now comforting you is the top priority. She climbs all the way in bed and tucks you in, getting comfortable. she sighs and smells in your scent. She kisses the top of your head and runs her hands through your hair. “Don’t worry love she’ll be taken care of by tonight. Pay no mind to what any maids in this castle have to say. You are the most beautiful person in the whole world, don’t let worthless beings make you think otherwise.” You smile and look up at her and nod becoming more comfortable and less sad. Alcina now feels successful in the comfort part now she needs to finish the rest.

Bela Dimitrescu:

Now with Bela, seeing as she is calm/quiet and the sister with the brains. She would see your struggles and silently observe. She secretly follows where you go seeing how you act by yourself. When she sees you crying to yourself in front of the mirror is when she’s had enough observing and more action. she dissipates into flies and appears next’s to you in a flash. She holds you from behind and puts her head on your shoulder, staring at you intensely.

“What?” you whisper weakly while sniffling. “Why must you do this to yourself? you’re perfect my love.” “You think so but I don’t” you snap back. She sighs and turns you chubby cute face towards her. Looking at your cheeks pushing your lips up reminds her of a fish, a cute one at that. She softly grins and kisses your soft lips. “Don’t cry my love. All that matters is that I find you delicious and hopefully nobody else or they’re gone.” she widens her smile. You nod and notice the blood on her face and quickly look back at the mirror and gasp “Bela this is disgusting” you say while wiping it off frantically, she starts giggling.You turn around and wet the rag you were using and start cleaning her to rid of the blood. She backs you to the sink (btw your in the bathroom and the door was open prob should’ve mentioned that before but oh well) her arms on either side of you, towering over you, licking her lips. You gulp at her sudden change. She leans in and kisses you deeply to which takes you by surprise by the passion in it. She pulls away leaving you wanting more and says “Please don’t tear yourself down my love, you’re beautiful as is...” you nod “as long as you keep kissing me like that forever” you both laugh and she takes hold of your waist and takes you to her bedroom for proper cuddling.

Cassandra Dimitrescu:

OK with Cassandra she’s kinda in the middle yk. She can be a sadist but also caring but in a ‘I don’t show you I like you but trust me I do’ . She keeps tabs in you during the day. Checking up on you to see what you’re doing before going back to doing her thing. Whenever catching you feeling insecure she makes sure to try her best at showing her affection for you. Feeding you extra, kissing you, forcing you to cuddle with her. She just wants you to go back to normal. She doesn’t like to see you vulnerable. I’d also say she struggles to comfort you considering she likes to just kill, torture and mock her victims everyday so comforting is a change.

You were just simply sitting in the library reading while having hot chocolate considering how cold it was outside. Some maidens were cleaning the dust near you. You took a split look in case you were in the way and you couldn’t help but see how skinny and beautiful they were compare to yourself. You look back at your book trying not to tear up. You shake your head and close the book, leaving the hot chocolate not feeling confident to continue the day. Walking in the halls trying to keep yourself from crying. You suddenly hear flies buzzing, knowing already who it was you paused trying to stop the tears from getting ready to overflow. “Hello my prey~~” Cassandra hooks her left arm around you shoulders and whispers into your ear “whatcha doin?” You shake her off and run off hiccuping crying. It didn’t help because she just followed you all the way to the shared room. You collapsed onto the bed, face buried into the pillows. The fly buzzing returns as disappears just as quick as it came. You continue crying for some time, so long you thought she was gone. You sit up and look around seeing that she was standing there frozen. You stare in confusion. She then makes eye contact and moves forward and takes her cloak off for more comfort and climbs on top of your legs and kisses you deeply it shocked you. She pushes you back onto the pillows and continues kissing you. Once she’s satisfied with the make-out session she pulls away to admire her work. “So hot seeing you under me all flustered like that” you look away “No I’m not” she tilts her head “I’m not hot” you say annoyed. She gives you a stank face “You ARE HOT” emphasis on hot. You roll your eyes and try to cover your face but she caught your hands right before. “Don’t I wanna see your sexy face” “ugh Cassandra enough” she pauses for a second still holding your hands. she squints her eyes at you then just plop on you with her 6′4 self. “shut up YOU ARE SEXY and HOT. YOU ARE ALL OF THE ABOVE DEAR” it was so amusing to you that you started laughing and trying to push her off but to no avail. she stayed until she felt like you were feeling better. she sits up and grins down at you. “feeling better?” she raises an eyebrow. she admires you out of breath and stares to thing on 18+ things and grins widely. “if not I have an idea” her hands start creeping up under your shirt and that’s where we move on folks.

Daniela Dimitrescu:

Now Daniela is delusional right? so I don’t think she would notice until a maiden or someone said something bad about you. she wouldn’t even notice when your in a bad mood. She kinda clings to you wherever you go so nobody says anything to your face. but you can feel the judgey gazes. They look at you in disgust but daniela doesn’t see them blinded by you and your beauty. After a while of you pushing her away constantly you blow up.

“DANIELA STOP LEAVE ME ALONE” she stops trying to cuddle you and her attitude changes. “w-what?” your eyes widened “I’m so sorry” you back away from her and run away while she stays still frozen staring at where you once stood. Her sisters gather behind her “Dani what’s going on? what was that?” Bela asked. She shrugs and starts to tear up not expecting that. she swallows the lump growing in her throat and excuses herself following fast after you. she finds you sitting outside under the gazebo in the courtyard... in the cold . she wants to run after you she can’t. she tries banging on the window careful not to break it but you ignore it. She curses and looks around and sees a nearby maiden and tells her to go out there a tell your ass to come back in but to bring a blanket. The maid instantly complies grabbing the needed blanket and bravely walks out into the freezing cold to you. she wraps the blanket around you and persuades you to come inside. You come in and immediately gets swooped up and brought into a room. A very familiar room in fact. You try to disappear into the blanket but nonetheless its torn from you and there is Daniela looking like a kicked puppy. It makes you feel so guilty. She pulls you in and sighs turning into a sob. one hand cups your head and the other your back. You both just sit on the ground holding each other. It felt like eternity before either of you spoke. “I’m sorry” you both say at the same time. You both giggle. She continues “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons my dear” she pulls away and caresses the hair out of your face considering it was windy and gross outside. You tiredly smile “no no this was my fault I was insecure and then blew up on you and worried you like crazy.” she purses her lips “no I’m pretty sure this was my fault for not noticing” she makes a funny face which makes you smile “I love you so much Dani” she blushes “I love you too s/o”

Karl Heisenberg:

This man now was taken away from his family when he was a child so he never grew up with affection. I think he would struggle with comforting you at first but he definitely gets better because he doesn’t like when the only thing good in this shit hole is depressed. So expect him to just glomp on you and stay there no matter what. With this he would be patient no matter what, you getting annoyed for him just staying there but you soon realize it’s just to make you feel better. Kisses and sweet nothings are a must. He encourages you and makes sure you know you are everything and more.

You were out and about at the village collecting necessities for you both. A group of men started whispering amongst each other. You didn’t mind it at first and continued shopping until you noticed that they were everywhere you were. Following you with judging looks. You shiver feeling the daggers stabbing your back. You sigh just wanting to get this over. The men started to get more bold and getting up close and acting like they were looking at the items. In reality they were giving you side looks. You continued to ignore until a burly musty man growled and shouted “I don’t know why were taking so long to get to the point!” You stop and look at him afraid now really wishing that Karl was here. You start to shake by how nervous you were. I mean imagine a group of men circling you and shouting at you. The men start getting too close and grabbing you and yelling in your face. Profanities are thrown around, degrading you for being who you are, manhandling but it all stops when 3 lycans come from nowhere and start attacking the men. The big burly man who started it tried to fight but figured out he didn’t have the proper tool to kill the lycan so he dropped the stick and ran for his life only to be stopped by Karl himself with more lycans behind him waiting to kill. The man bows before Karl. Begging for his useless life. This man was far over the edge to be given mercy. You hurriedly run to Karl tears falling. “K-Karl” he signals for you to go behind him. You quickly comply lycans coming up to you and rubbing their heads under your hand to which you pet them to calm your shaking self. Karl makes some sort of signal to which the lycans stopped attacking the men and leaving. Other villagers stopped breathing and watch this all go down. A woman comes up “Please please please forgive my foolish husband please!” she starts begging like her pathetic husband. Karl snorts looking at her “Your husband and his fuck buddies need to pay for starting shit my sweetheart.” the wife starts to cry and looks at you “please please stop him. PLEASE” she starts to rush towards you only for Karl push her back so she falls next to her husband. Karl starts sucking his teeth “see now you shouldn’t have done that” he turns and hold your shoulder and starts walking away lycans making a path for the both of you. Hammer on one shoulder you on the other. He lifts his hammer into the air and lycans starting howling?? and rush towards to villagers who screamed and run. You get one look back to see the man being mauled to death. “Keep looking forward darlin. You don’t need to see that” You nod and lean you head against him sniffling. Once back at the factory he throws the hammer somewhere and the basket of stuff you bought on a table. He picks you up with ease and rushes off to relax with you. You spent the rest of that night being loved on and speaking about anything other than that. “I will always protect you buttercup” he whispers are you slip into sleep.

Donna Beneviento:

Ok so I don’t know much about Donna but I know she is a quiet, shy and seems to be pretty insecure about herself specifically her face hence the face cover. So you too are struggling to support each other. But also trying to the best of your abilities. Like making sure the other is not lacking in an everyday things. I see Angie also trying to keep the spirits up by joking around and pushing you guys to do more. Also I think Donna craves for touch but to shy to ask. When she’s feeling insecure Angie will make sure to tell you so then you can go and hug her and love you. When its you who’s feeling insecure she and Angie will put a little something together with the help from other dolls. She surprises you by shyly giving it to you and waiting for your reaction.

Donna hands you a box, gift wrapped any everything. Lately you haven’t been feeling thee best but you continued living. You had looked in the mirror recently and just watched. The way you looked. Moving your stomach around to how you wished it looked and smiling when doing so but when you let go you stop smiling. That kind of feeling. You look at her confused to which she gestures for you to open it. You start unwrapping the gift and open the box to see 2 puppets. Cloth ones. They looked familiar? Then you turned them over and realized it was you too. A little Donna and Y/N. You giggle at how cute it was and also realized that they were holding hands and the puppets looked so peaceful and so happy. You looked up at Donna who was playing with her hands. You put down the dolls and giver her a big hug to which Angie and the other dolls start cheering because they had work so hard thinking and putting this gift together. You carefully lift Donna’s face cover and warmly smile. “Thank you my dear. I love them” she blushes and slowly works up the confidence to make eye contact with you. When she finally does she gives you a nervous but happy smile back. You cup her cute face and give her a kiss on the lips to which she returns quickly loving the affection. Once you pull away she hold onto your wrist not wanting to stop holding her face. “I’m glad you liked it love” and for the rest of the day was spent cuddling and doing things together with the puppets sitting on the middle of the bed.

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Note: This was not edited yet so excuse me if there are any words missing in a sentence I tend to think faster than I can type. Also I hope you liked this and more coming soon!!

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento x reader

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Note

I always think of like, the reversal of what happened with the dimitrescu family in the game, like all three daughters die, lady D goes absolutely insane trying to kill ethan. But what if by some miracle or smth ethan had managed to kill lady d first? I think all three of the daughters would go absolutely apeshit hunting ethan down and ripping him to shreds because 'you killed our mama'

And I dunno I was thinking about this last night and decided someone else should suffer with me

I’ve thought of this, too!!

After they kill Ethan they stand around their mother’s broken body in silence, unsure on what to do or say anymore. What was there to do without their mother to guide them?

Ethan’s body is burned. The flames devour his flesh in their stead. None of them can bring themselves to feast upon him for what he’s done. It hurts too much.

They bury Alcina in the garden, bundling up in several layers so they can give her a proper funeral service, despite the harsh Romanian winter. They kneel in the snow-covered dirt, drinking from her veins one last time. Her blood had never tasted so stale before.

Ashes. It’s all ashes.

They hang her hat on the tree her grave sat beneath. Nobody says a word. Tears freeze to their faces. One-by-one, they leave.

There is nobody to greet them inside.

Mother Miranda, Moreau, Donna and Angie, even Heisenberg come to pay their respects. They all say the same thing, over and over again: I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a great mother. She loved you all dearly. None of it matters. Not any more. Who cares if she loved them or not if she is no longer there to give them that affection?

Time passes. Alcina’s death is hard on everyone. Daniela spends a lot of her days locked in Alcina’s bedroom, curled up in the blankets, crying. Cassandra vents her despair and anger on the maidens, practically living down in the dungeon, torturing and slaughtering. Bela, as the oldest, takes up the family business, but it’s so hard, so fucking hard because she doesn’t know how to do anything and it reminds her so much of her mom and she fears failure severely.

The sisters begin to grow distance, as they’re rarely around each other anymore, all too busy with their unhealthy coping mechanisms. They can’t depend on each other for comfort because they can’t even comfort themselves.

One day, six lonely months later, Bela goes out and visits her mother’s grave.

“Hi, Mama,” she says. “I brought you some things.”

She brandishes a bouquet of flowers to the grave, as if Alcina were actually standing there and looking grateful over the gift.

“They’re roses,” Bela tells the tomb. She swallowed thickly, biting back the lump welling up in her throat. “They reminded me of you.”

She tentatively sets the flowers down on the dirt.

“I—” The words catch in her throat. She scratches at her neck with one claw, trying to muster up the will to speak. “I was thinking about maybe trying different mixtures for the wine.” She pauses, took a breath, then goes on, forcing out a giggle alongside her sentence, “It’s probably gonna turn out surprise gross, though.” And then, much quieter, wringing her hands together, “I wish you were here to do it with me.”

Silence falls upon the girl and the grave. Bela’s hands are clasped tight and she brings them to her stomach, imagining what it would be like to find absolution in her claws. She would plunge and drag and drag and drag until there was nothing left of her but shredded flesh and blood, but that would not be enough, not for her. It would not give her her mother back. It would not give her the shouts and the laughs and the boisterous cries at all hours of the morning and night. That was not what Alcina would have done if it had been Bela that was murdered on that fateful day.

But she wasn’t as strong as Alcina.

Bela doesn’t really realize exactly how loud she is crying until her shaking breath hitches so high it sounds like a squeak. She blinks through the haze of tears and scrubs her eyes with her sleeve, but the merciless flow does not stop.

A little brown bird lands on a grave nearby and fluffs out its wet wings. A grazing deer is munching contently on some wild flowers. Some type of bug is buzzing in the grass somewhere from behind.

Looking around at this all, Bela is shocked by how the world keeps running and running while hers had stopped its run not so long ago.

The summer leaves are dancing around her, whisked from the towering oak trees by foggy gales and sent into a whirling axis in the sky. A humidly warm, but also bone-chillingly cold breeze is trying to offer a comfort that seems to be invisible and impalpable. There can’t be comfort. There can’t be reassurance. The pain is still too loud, the wound is still too raw: her heart and her soul aren’t ready to accept that there is a reason for what has happened; her mind is still trying to distinguish between reality and fantasy, between the soothing effect of a false illusion and the harsh truth of a world deprived by its most beautiful voice.

“Why?” She wonders this so often, but there is only pattering raindrops and whisking nature replying to her, and that lack of words is an absence that stings more than she can accept.

“Why?”

She has wondered for too long but still nothing has come up and maybe it will never be answered because sometimes life is like that, a storm in the middle of a summer day and its lingering residue following her for weeks and months. Maybe one day she’ll stop asking herself that but, for now, it’s just all she can think about, over and over again.

It doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense and it has been like that since she saw the sight, just a few flashes of images in a room, blood and gunfire and a collapsing body, that had stumbled down her life and shattered it. She can still see them behind her eyes, can still feel the way her own heart had stopped beating as a black void started to envelop her. She still feels like she’s down there, trapped in a nightmare that no one knows how to stop or break.

It doesn’t make sense.

There is regret in her body language. There is a baggage full of words that should have been said and things that she should have done. Maybe, if she had done them, nothing would have ever happened.

Bela wishes she could go back in time. She wishes there was a way for her to erase all those tiny mistakes she’s made, all those times she wanted to reach out but, instead, turned her head away because it still hurt. Her mother was—is still—the most important thing in her life and, yet, she let her slip away in fear of what she would say if she showed any signs of weakness. Her image is everything and yet, what is left now? There’s no image to defend, there’s nothing left because Alcina’s death has destroyed everything.

So she wishes. She wonders and wishes that there is a way for her to save just a few lives.

Her life.

There are still tears in her eyes. She wants to believe it’s because of the weather and the wind but it’s just a useless alibi. She lets them fall, not ashamed anymore because there is no one around to watch her. But she feels like a hypocrite, she feels like she doesn’t have the right to cry that loss because she could have done so much to prevent her mother’s absence.

To prevent her death.

She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many times people keep telling her that she’s done nothing to cause the incident. She knows it’s the truth, no matter how many people try to explain how, sometimes, she can’t save everyone. That bad things just happen to good people.

“I’m sorry.”

She knows it’s too late.

She knows that it’s useless because Alcina’s not there to hear those words.

Regrets don’t leave Bela, not even now that she’s standing in front of the consequences of her own ignorance.

It’s her fault.

She keeps telling herself it as if this admission of truth can absolve her sin. It’s her fault because she said she would protect her family but it was always so easy to forget about it: there isn’t ever the need to- she had always been the one that needed help the most in the family it seemed. She had always been the one fate had chosen to deal bad cards: her mental health, her perfectionism, those idiotic statements and those stupid decisions.

But then there was her mother. Her mother’s comforting words, gentle touches, light hearted jokes to make her smile—the way she would just…be there and make things better in ways that were difficult to explain to the world that had never seen her in private.

Why didn’t Bela do the same for her? Or for any of her family members?

“I’m sorry.”

Bela is sorry. She could have done more. She could have told her more.

She should have known better.

Bela should have known better, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to realize that her superhero might have been needing a hero herself and she was too oblivious or too busy or too afraid to be up to the task.

She depended on her mother and now she’s lost.

Alone.

#ask #you may call me the queen of resident evil angst #please and thank you #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #dimitrescu daughters #ethan winters

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Note

If you're still taking request - your arranged marriage Au made me think of Jaskier as maybe someone cursed and in a tower, maybe everyone thinks the prince in a tower is guarded by a terrible dragon but the prince IS the dragon, and Geralt investigates?

Cute idea, elementalsight!

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“Rescuing a fair maiden, really?” Geralt said.

“The notice had he/him pronouns, so probably not exactly,” Yennefer said, looking at her nails. “And you need the money. Do you want the contract or not?”

Geralt picked it up from the table and smoothed the parchement.

“There’s really very little information here, they say he’s guarded by a dragon?”

“Mmmhmm,” Yennefer said, brushing at a chip in her nail polish that was probably imaginary.

“There’s no dragons out here, the terrains wrong, we’d know anyway.”

“Mmh, intriguing, right? Bet you wanna take that contract now.” Yen hadn’t looked up from her nails.

“Yen, what do you know?” He lashes cast odd shadows across her face in the torchlight.

“Nothing I’m telling you,” she said. Then she summoned a portal and disappeared with a swish of skirts.

Damn. He really was out of money though.

The tower wasn’t imposing or ominous. It wasn’t made of black stone or crooked, no random lightning storms or smoke, it wasn’t even that tall.

“Go away,” the voice came from a throat like a blast furnace and Geralt was staring into the slitted eyes of a mid sized (still big enough to eat him, just in more than one bite) dragon.

“Hello,” he said. “What’s a sky dragon doing in a place like this.” It was his special ‘talking to horses or big animals’ voice.

“Not a sky dragon,” the sky dragon grumbled.

“Yes you are, and what’s weird is that you should be up on some chilly cliff, not in a forest.”

“I’m a dragon, not any special kind. The eat you all up and burn your armor kind.” There was a pout in the voice now.

Geralt scratched one of the snout scales.

“Sure,” he said. The dragon huffed, blue-silver smoke rings curling from the nostrils. No eating occurred.

“I imagine I’m not very good eating,” Geralt said. Most witchers would probably at least give a dragon indigestion. “I also imagine you know something very important about the prince in the tower.”

The dragon, despite having eyes the size of soup bowls, did not meet Geralt’s gaze.

“He’s not even a very important prince, I don’t know why you’re interested.”

“I’d quite like to know why he’s imprisoned in a tower,” Geralt said, although a mental picture was forming. “And why I have a contract to kill both him and the dragon guarding it.”

The dragon pulled back sharply and hissed. A blade thin line of fire, blue and so hot it nearly seared off an eyebrow, missed Geralt by inches.

“Monster hunter,” the dragon said, shifting up on it’s haunches like it was getting ready to pounce. It wasn’t. He could see it in the muscles, they weren’t bunched right. The dragon didn’t want to hurt him, and the eyes just looked sad and kind of resigned.

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, holding up his hands, both currently sword free. “But I don’t want to kill him...or you. Monster hunter, not prince hunter.”

“Dragons are monsters,” the dragon said.

“Only to stupid people,” Geralt replied. “And sheep,” he added as an afterthought. “I want to meet this prince of yours.”

“NONE MAY ENTER,” the dragon said. “NOW LEAVE BEFORE I BURST YOUR EARDRUMS WITH A ROAR”

“You can’t, that’s only earth dragons, they’re all curled up under a mountain somewhere, and they’re certainly never blue.”

“The dragon looked nonplussed. “I’LL SPIT ACID IN YOUR FACE.”

“Swamp dragons,” Geralt said. “Green or yellow and a little smaller.”

“I’LL...”

“You were raised by humans,” Geralt interuppted.

“No?”

“Yes you were, otherwise you’d know more. Did the prince raise you? I won’t harm him you know, I only wan’t to talk.”

“NONE MAY ENTER.”

“Yes, you’ve said, but I won’t take him away. I just want to know why people want him dead.” Here Geralt looked the dragon right in the blue eyes, close enough to se the silver flecks in the iris. “Maybe I can help him, help you both.”

The dragon looked away. “Come back at sunset.”

Geralt did.

He yelled out for the dragon but it wansn’t there.

“I’m climbing the tower,” he called out. “Don’t flame me, you invited me.” And he clambered up the tower. Coming back down he’d be thankful for the rope he’d brought, because the stones were slick and smooth. He sat on the small windowsill and swung his legs into a room.

It wasn’t a very nice room. It was definitely a prison. small bed, one candle, uneven table and wobbly stool. A young man was sitting on the floor, cradling a lute.

“Are you the prince?” Geralt asked. He hadn’t seen a picture and although he felt silly making sure, he’d feel sillier if he got it wrong.

“Yes, are you the dragon slayer?”

“Witcher,” Geralt said. “And I did’t slay your dragon.”

“He’s not my dragon, he’s my fearsome jailer, keeping me inside this tower.”

“No,” Geralt said. “I doubt it. Show me your eyes.”

“No,” said the prince, not looking up.

“I’ll bet they’re a very pretty shade of blue,” Geralt said. “With silver.”

Blue and silver eyes met gold.

“You knew,” said the prince, swiping dirty, brown hair from his brow.

“You act odd, for a dragon, prince...” he sought the memory. “Julian.”

“Friends call me Jaskier,” said Jaskier. “Although I don’t have many. Just a little bit of dragon blood in the line, barely more than a drop, really, but I just so happen to get all of it. Anyway, I thought all dragons could look human.”

“They can,” Geralt said. “But they’re raised by other dragons, so they don’t act the same. Why are you inprisoned? And why was I sent to kill you.”

Jaskier sighed. “It’s not good, is it, to have a dragon for a son, even if he is your third son and won’t inherit. Father locked me up and had a mage cast a spell. As a dragon I can roam a little, but I can’t climb down the tower as a human, and I’m only human at night, some mishap with the runes as I understand. True love’s kiss breaks the mage’s spell.”

Geralt scoffed. “That pansy stuff never works.”

“It’s just what I was told,” said the prince, shrugging. “Somehow my father got the idea that true loves kiss will also make me no longer a dragon.”

“Not how that works,” Geralt said.

“No,” Jaskier agreed. “But he keeps sending heroes after me hoping they’ll kiss me.”

“The contract said I was to kill both of you.”

“Yes, well, that would also take care of the problem, wouldn’t it?”

“The problem being you?” Geralt said.

“The problem, generally speaking, being me.”

“We’ll break the spell,” Geralt said, although it wouldn’t be that easy.

“And then what? I can’t fight, I’ve no useful skills and nowhere to go. According to you I don’t even make a very good dragon.”

The young man slumped down. “But I’ve been so lonely,” he said. “You know I’ve been here five years? Just me and my lute, I think I’m going mad. You could even be a figment of my imagination.”

“Right,” Geralt said. “Getting you out first, dealing with other problems later.”

“Where am I going to find true love’s kiss?” asked Jaskier. “Do I kiss you?”

“You could try?” Geralt said. He really wouldn’t mind. The prince was whiny and a little dirty but very good looking. “But I was thinking more like, finding the runes and wiping them out.”

“You can just do that?” Jaskier leap to his feet. “They’re right up there,” he pointed among the cieling beams. “I can’t reach them on my own but the two of us...”

Geralt was already lifting the princling onto his shoulders. He didn’t weigh a lot.

“Just a little forward,” Jaskier said, accidentally kneeing Geralt in the chin.

“Hmmm,” he said, to avoid cursing, and shifted forward.

“Thery’re coming off! The runes are wiping away!”

He was loud but Geralt couldn’t blame him, five years was a long time. Although not compared to a dragon’s lifespan.

“They’re gone, I’m free!”

Geralt let the boy down from his shoulders and got a surprisingly tight hug and a very pleasant, extremely enthusiastic kiss.

“Just...you know, covering all my bases,” said the blushing prince. He really was cute.

Geralt carried him down the tower. Delighted, Jaskier turned into a dragon, then back to a human, then a smaller dragon, house cat sized, and perched on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Where are we going now? And what’s your name? Will I meet other witchers? Don’t forget to bring my lute?”

It would probably get old very quickly, Geralt thought. But the company was kind of nice, if a little scaly.

#geraskier #dragon jaskier #creature jaskier #true love's kiss is for sissys #the witcher #askbox answers

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Note

I don't think antis know about meaning of 'willowy'. When Jon said that Val is a warrior princess not a willowy creature brushing her hair, willowy is not an insult. It means tall, slender and graceful. And Sansa qualifies as willowy brushing her and like knights. It seems like Jon throwing shade on Sansa, but why? Considering he liked her brushing Lady hair and he himself wanted to be knight. Why he subtly remember Sansa while differentiating her with Val?

This is what I wrote about Val and the willowy creature line a while ago:

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman. One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”. Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”. But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa? Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point. And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”. Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn’t even want it anyway”. Let’s see:

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go.” The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. “As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?” He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean… COME ON! This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.” Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady. Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden. Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her. Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight. The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress”.

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: “Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower.” “That’s pretty.” He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. […] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. […] Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:

“I have heard you singing to him.”

“I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster.”

“Monster?”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. “You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …”

“Greyscale.”

“The grey death is what we call it.”

“It is not always mortal in children.”

“North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago.”

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. “Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child.”

“I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from??? It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought […] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue. Again the grey/blue eyes pattern…

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. […] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself.

Think about it!

* * *

For anyone interested, this is an excerpt from this post.

#anon asks #jonsa

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

-----------------------------------------

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

-----------------------------------------

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

-----------------------------------------

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #cliff hanger oops #had fun writing this one

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

miche zacharias | beauty & the beast

this is for @izukine ‘s ‘fairy tale and mythical creatures’ collab! love you so much liyah <333

tagging: @yeagerslut @xenihime @fiaficsxo @mitsuluv @sukunas-lady @onyxoverride @rintarouss (cus ur a miche fucker. sorry for not warning u abt the tag)

edit: this is unedited, i’m so sorry for any typos.

warnings/tags: cursing, eventual smut, smut, nsfw, romantic sex, size kink(i guess if u squint?), fingering, oral sex/cunnilingus, missionary sex, vanilla

miche was always just a little bigger than anyone around him. he stood like a skyscraper at 6’5, towering over all of his peers. he was more broad one would be at the chest, a tailor once said his bust was around 150 centimeters.

miche was seen as an absolute beast because of this. and it didn’t help that miche’s hair was shaggy, stubble coating his upper lip and jaw, and he had a sniffing problem. he thinks the nose is really what sold everyone.

and in effect, miche was feared. feared by the people in his village, and sometimes even by his own friends. the dark and looming castle he lives in was where he forced to, along with his companions that stood up for the meek man that they called a beast.

the village often sent people who they’ve decided to shun to his estate, expecting for the beast to kill them in cold blood.

in reality, he just sent them to the next village over. he didn’t feel like being disturbed.

it was nothing different when he saw you running to him, tears falling from your pretty eyes while consistently looking over your shoulder. behind you, he noticed a crowd with pitchforks along with torches, screaming for you to get back here to burn you at the stake.

“help!” you cry, “help!”

you stumbled over your own feet, hands clamping down onto his clothed biceps and sobbing while looking at him.

“the next village over is—“

“no! sir, no matter where i go,” you shake your head rapidly, “i will be hunted. hunted for reading the books!”

you looked so desperate clinging onto him, eyes flashing when you cry once more, “you’re the only one who can help me!”

he looks back to the crowd that nears the gates of his home, silently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. the crowd skids to a stop, especially when miche steps forward and manages to yank a pitchfork from their hands.

“this girl is with me,” he announces, jabbing at the air to back them up, “leave now or die.”

the crowd gapes at the sight of you gathered to his chest, but backs off nonetheless. there was nothing they could do against the man that they call a beast.

miche leads you into his home, introducing you to friendly faces that were spread across the house.

“what happened?! did you get rid of the—whoa-ho-ho! who’s this beauty, michey,” someone with messy brown hair exclaims, eyepatch covering their left eye.

“hanji! quit being so disrespectful,” a man follows behind them, tugging them by their shoulders from behind.

“this young maiden was followed by a mob. she read the forbidden books, based off of her words she’s said to me. they planned on hunting her down even if she goes to the next village over,” he leads you past them to a bathroom.

“that’s saddening,” a baritone voice said, the frown evident in his voice, “she's staying with us i’m assuming?”

if his voice wasn’t enough to make you feel small, his looks definitely were. a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a prosthetic arm stood in front of you with something that you can say was a gentle smile. behind him lingered a shorter man, bags hanging from his eyes, one of which had a scar running through it and down to his lip.

“no shit, erwin. miche isn’t heartless,” the crude words make you crack a smile.

miche ignores their comments, “where’s nanaba? she needs a bath and i don’t fully trust her to be alone.”

“what am i needed for,” a feminine person waltzes into the room, a light look on her face.

“this young maiden needs to be bathed with a loose eye on them,” nanaba gently takes your hands into their own.

“what?! why couldn’t i do it?!”

“because you can barely bathe yourself, shitty glasses,” levi grunts and sits on a plush couch in front of the warm fire. you notice he has two prosthetic fingers.

nanaba leads you away before you can hear hanji’s response. you open your mouth to ask a question, but find yourself stuck on what to address nanaba as.

“you can address me as whatever makes you comfortable,” you find that she’s peering at you from over her shoulder.

“oh! i’m so sorry,” you sniffle.

“don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. now, what was on your mind?”

“that man… miche, i think the townspeople called him, he’s really kind. he saved me from being burned,” you murmur loud enough for her to hear, “why?”

nanaba took you into a bathroom room and shut the door behind her, “i can’t say i know. the last person he took in was levi, and it wasn’t exactly his choice, more of erwin’s. i think he smells something in you.”

“that’s right, the townspeople wrote that he had the nose of a dog.”

“he does. he’s usually able to tell if someone is good or not just by their scent,” she turns on the bath, “i think he likes you.”

you deny her statement with a laugh, fanning your hand just before you get undressed. you doubt that a beast such as himself could like someone like you.

————

months passed, and as the days went on you found yourself falling in love with miche. the same man who used ‘beauty’ as a nickname for you would bathe in how you’d give a bashful and swat his arm.

truly, he was more like a bear. big and scary, but also cuddly—as much as a bear could really be—and soft. miche had a heart of gold, that much was obvious when he started to wear it on his sleeve.

he cherished his time with you, even if others were around and he wanted you to himself. he loves the wandering gazes you give when you sit under the wisteria tree in his garden. the look of curiosity that brightens your face, eyes wide and staring at the world he used to think was cruel.

miche tried not to be a sap. he hadn’t ever since he was born, and he didn’t want to start now. but he couldn’t help it.

if the world that shamed him and hurt him was able to create such a kind yet sarcastic beauty, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

but he was scared of hurting you. in more ways than one. mentally, miche was a quiet and seemingly unaffectionate person, even with someone he loved. miche also had a tendency to be blunt at times, and it has made you upset on multiple occasions.

physically, however, miche’s terrified of being with you just because of it. as you’ve observed, miche isn’t exactly small..

but you practically make him feel as such.

especially right now as you crack jokes with him and teaching him how to waltz. it doesn’t help that you’re leading the dance and that he was stumbling over your feet.

“miche, step this way with me,” you’re incredibly patient.

“i’m scared i’ll step on your foot,” you give him a stare.

“you already have,” you laugh, “it’s okay if you step on my foot, you’ll get the hang of it.”

eventually, he’s able to synchronize his steps with your’s. you trade off the leadership to him, hands on his shoulders. he fumbles a lot more than before, leading to you fumbling over him as well. your shoe presses into his own, and you wince for him while muttering an apology. he’s about to tell you it’s fine, but before he can, he’s stepped on your dress. you yelp and instinctively cling onto miche as you fall onto miche’s bed, dragging him with you.

his arm is immediately at the small of your back and his other hand manages to hold himself up. you flop back onto the mattress when he takes his arm away, cheeks flushed red as he stared down at you.

you look so pretty under him, hair spread beneath you and hands laying next to your head palms up. your pretty lips are parted and your eyes are wide and fluttering.

when he realizes he’s staring, he starts to get ready to get off of you.

“wait!” you gently hold his biceps, stopping his once abrupt movement.

your arms reluctantly and slowly wrap around his neck, eyes darting continuously to his face and to your arms. miche’s breath gets caught in his chest when you pull his face closer to your’s.

“miche… can i kiss you,” you whisper, breath tickling his skin.

miche’s too afraid to speak, so he nods.

your lips start to tingling whenever they’re connected to miche’s heat embarrassingly shooting through your body and to your tummy.

when he pulls away, you accidentally let out a whimper and rub your thighs together. miche’s face lights up again at how needy you look underneath him.

he kisses you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaning his weight onto them. he subtly shimmies your body up the mattress, tongue poking at the inside of your mouth. it elicits a soft moan from you, the noise shooting sparks straight to miche’s cock.

“love you,” he sighs with his lips trailing down your neck, large hands shyly starting to grope at your chest.

“love you too,” you bite your lip, watching him undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“is this all okay,” his lips tickle your skin as he drags them across the skin of your collarbones.

“yes… yes,” you mumble, slipping out of the shirt and your bra and throwing it somewhere across miche’s room.

miche nibbles at the skin on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. you sigh dreamily, hips wiggling from where they lay on the bed. he kisses down your tummy and slips the skirt you’re wearing off of your body.

you’re wearing plain white panties, embarrassment hitting you like a truck. miche doesn’t seem to care at all though, just slips them down your leg and throws them somewhere in his room.

you put a hand on your chest when he spreads your legs, trying to regulate your almost erratic breathing. you couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

soft pecks tickle your calf, slowly trailing up to your thigh and to the trimmed hair of your labia. breaths grow heavy when his tongue hesitantly prods at clit, fingers digging themselves into the wild sheets of his bed.

after seeing your small flinches, miche closes his lips around the bud. you immediately throw your head back as he starts to suck and lick at it, electricity shooting down to your toes that are curled over his shoulders.

he slips a large finger into you, bending it with caution. you buck your hips with a throaty moan, sealing your eyes closed when miche picked up the velocity of his pace.

unlike with waltzing, miche was getting the hang of it fast. so fast that he’s already slipping a second finger into you, thrusting it at a teasing pace that wouldn’t be able to get you off.

you cry out, the scent of pleasure coating your entire body. it has miche groaning against your clit, a loud and desperate moan being let out in response.

miche’s slipping in a third finger, continuously thrusting in and out whilst curling them.

“miche! miche!” you let a hand get tangled in his hair, gently tugging as if you were trying to rut against his face.

“gonna cum—oh my god! i’m gonna cum,” you whine breathlessly and miche continues at his pace.

you cum seconds later, legs trembling from where they lay over his shoulders. he pulls away and immediately wipes away your juices off of his face with the back of his hand, immediately rewarding you with a sweet and passionate kiss on your lips. you whimper against his rough lips, fingers tugging at the shirt he still had on.

he chuckles when he pulls away, hastily taking off his seemingly elegant clothing and throwing the sheets over your bodies.

miche knew it was going to make you both hot. and miche knew he was paranoid of anyone walking in, even though he knew that everyone wouldn’t bother him. but still, the sheets acted as a shield from the world.

this time was only for the two of you, no one else.

his hand pumps his cock whenever he starts to guide it to your stretched out slit. you don’t exactly realize just how big miche actually is until the head of his cock is pushing into you.

the sting that shoots through your body is immediate, and you immediately cling onto his back. you bite your lip whenever he keeps slipping himself in, pausing when you’ve managed to get a quarter of his cock inside of you.

you pant as tears prick the corner of your eyes, trying to relax your obviously tense body as miche tries to distract you with soft and gentle kisses. he whispers how good you're doing, even rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb to help loosen the tension.

when you calm down and tell him that you're ready, he continues to slip into you with slowed movements. the stretch is more painful than before and as he slides deeper and deeper into you, you feel like his cock gets bigger with each inch. you stop him again, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that you can do it. you only had a few more inches left, then you would feel good.

when he finally bottoms out, your breath leaves your chest. it feels like he’s in your throat and the intense feeling makes you cry again.

“so full, ‘m so full miche,” you whimper while he wipes away the tears from your face.

“i know, love, it’ll feel good soon,” his voice soothes you.

when you calm down again, the realization at how every part of miche’s cock reaches you comes down upon you.

“m-move, please, move,” carefully wrapping your legs around his waist, you whisper in his ear.

his thrusts start off slowly and deep, moans falling from your lips each time he bottoms out and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. when he realizes that you’re alright, he speeds up his pace.

the way he ruts into you makes you produce a broken scream, scratching at his back and throwing your head back. you’re already starting to feel that certain knot in your tummy again, and you wanted to try to hold it back but the orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.

you sound so broken underneath him, digging your nails into his skin and squeezing him close to you.

“fuck! thank you, thank you,” you sob, “love you, love your cock.”

he grunts in response, ignoring how your walls suffocate him. he doesn’t help you ride out the orgasm, only speeding up his pace to chase after his own orgasm.

you whine at the sound of his skin slapping against your’s, heat spreading down to your chest. you’re going to come again with the way miche jackhammers into you desperately.

“miche, miche! fuck—please!” your vision whites out as your body thrashes under miche’s hold.

miche can’t ignore how hard your walls grip onto his cock, groans spilling out of his mouth as his orgasm creeps over him.

he orgasms with a breathy grunt, grinding his hips into yours and pumping his cum into you.

when he comes down from the euphoric high, he kisses your lips. your eyelids are heavy after miche pulls his softening cock out of you.

“love you,” he mumbles against your skin after he’s fetched a wet rag and cleaned you up.

you hum in response, too tired and weak to even reciprocate with words. luckily, he knows what you were trying to say. he pulls you into his warm chest, a soft and satisfied hum falling from your lips.

you drift off with his hand rubbing your back. the last thing you remember thinking was that miche was definitely a beast in some aspects.

#izukine’s 500 event <3 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #sorrels.moots🌷#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #miche x reader #miche aot #miche zacharias #mike x reader #mike aot #mike zacharias

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