#just wanted to make sure that was set in stone
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“You ready, Lou?”
“Duh.”
“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”
“Yep.”
“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”
“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”
“Then I think we’re a go.”
“Gods, this is going to be great.”
———
Knockknockknock.
Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.
Knockknockknock.
“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.
Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.
Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.
“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”
She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.
“Chiron is leaving,” she says.
Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”
“With Mr. D. To some conference.”
“I heard.”
“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He left me in charge.”
“Probably wise.”
“I need an allegiance, Nico.”
“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”
She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.
“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”
Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.
(…And Will. Maybe.)
“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”
“…Lurk?”
“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”
“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”
She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”
“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”
“See ya!”
He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.
The next twenty four hours are going to rock.
———
“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”
“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”
“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”
“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
———
Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.
“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”
“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.
“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”
With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.
“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”
Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.
“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.
Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.
———
“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”
“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”
“I hate both of you.”
———
“Halt!”
Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.
“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”
Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.
“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.
Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.
“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.
The three stooges exchange a look.
“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”
“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.
“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”
“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.
“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”
“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.
Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.
Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”
“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”
“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”
Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.
“Tape off.”
Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.
“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”
With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.
Then again.
It is camp.
“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”
Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.
“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”
Caught.
“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.
“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”
“Do you three think I’m stupid.”
“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”
Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.
Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.
“Boo,” he whispers.
She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.
“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.
On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.
“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”
“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”
Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.
Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.
Understanding dawns on her quickly.
“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”
They squirm harder.
“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”
“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”
“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”
“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.
“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”
Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”
“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”
“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”
Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”
“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”
“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.
“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”
Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.
“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”
“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.
“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.
“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.
Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.
He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.
———
“Is he still looking?”
“No.”
“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”
———
Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.
He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)
For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.
“Neeks? Where’re you going?”
Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?
“Nico? You good, babes?”
He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.
“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”
“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.
For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.
And that is not all.
For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.
“What are you doing?”
“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”
“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”
Will and Reika exchange a look.
“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”
Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.
“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”
“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”
“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”
Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”
Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?
“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”
“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”
“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”
“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”
“Bleh bleh bleh.”
Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.
“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.
Coffee cake, save him.
———
“It’s not looking good, Katara —”
“I actually like that one.”
“— he’s totally onto us.”
“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”
———
To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.
As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.
Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.
Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.
It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.
Excellent.
“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”
“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”
Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.
“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”
Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
That gives her pause.
That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.
“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.
Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”
“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”
She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”
“Hey!”
“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”
Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.
“Does that settle things?” he demands.
Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.
The camp erupts.
Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.
“Just — everybody quiet!”
It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.
“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”
Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.
“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”
“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”
The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?
“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”
“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”
Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”
Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”
“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”
“Yeah, but camp-wide…”
“Could still be possible.”
“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”
It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.
Like they’re believing this shit.
Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.
“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”
That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”
“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.
But his aura.
The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.
Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.
He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.
If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.
———
next
#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solace#solangelo#established solangelo#will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone#annabeth chase#nico di angelo & annabeth chase#my writing#fic#longpost
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Salutations! I’m in the process of creating a story wherein both characters are missing an eye. One has a prosthetic, but is presently isolating themself in the woods, and wears an eyepatch to protect the eye while alone; the other’s socket is either empty, or they have a glass eye with no actual details (iris, pupil, etc.). I’ve struggled to find references for the latter, and fear it may come off as unrealistic. I understand prosthetic eyes keep the eyelid from collapsing, but aside from that could a person just not wear one? If these options are unrealistic, please let me know. I can supply you with concept art if need be.
The story itself centers around these characters after one of them finds the other by accident. They’re painted as foils—the one hiding out in the cabin adhering to a self-made sense of logic that centers on cycles and confirmation bias, while the only who takes refuge there after running away is deeply paranoid and prone to hallucinations. The first character is missing their left eye; the other their right. I don’t want to make a symbol of their disabilities, but I feel their designs simultaneously stress their opposing perspectives, as well as the fact they paradoxically still manage to see “eye-to-eye.” Their visual impairment is just one of many ways they’re able to connect across the story, as they also bond over their obscure passions and delusions, and respect each other’s warped worldview to such an extent said worldviews start to blur together. In addition to this, the story places an emphasis upon an entity known as the “ocellus,” which is basically the “false eye” you see on moth wings. In my outline so far, it’s the name of a mysterious band which the pair discover in a record collection, and resolve to solve the mystery of (regarding the members, music, etc.) One of the characters also sleeps with an eye mask with the pattern of moth wings and their respective ocelli overlaying their own eyes; their paranoid counterpart also sees eyes in the trees and wood of the cabin.
Absolutely none of this is set in stone; before it is, I just want to know how much of it is fine, which parts “moralize” or make a symbol of a disability, and what is straight-up ableist. Please let me know if you need more details.
Hi!
The prosthetic eye has two main functions: 1) to keep the eye area stay in shape, 2) to protect the socket. Both of these can be achieved by conformers (it's like a big contact, except it goes into the socket and not on the eye) which I talked about here!
A blank prosthetic eye would probably be fine. The process of getting it custom painted is expensive from what I know, and IRL a lot of people will decide on the generic kind rather than a custom. If in your world the generic happens to be a blank, there's no problems I can think of? Potentially, you could explicitly say that it's not how most prosthetic eyes look like (maybe someone else knows a person with an eye prosthetic and they comment that it's unusual?). You mentioned that the character doesn't have it in all the time, so I don't think the trope of "blind character has blank/white/milky eyes" applies here because it's clear that it's a prosthetic.
A person could decide to go bare, but the sensation of blinking could be uncomfortable, and they would need to clean their socket more to get rid of anything that could get inside. Normal saline could be used for that.
I don't think there's an issue in them missing different eyes at all. If you want to make sure it's not giving "Just Magic Symbolism" energy then you could incorporate some boring everyday things that would make sense. If they go somewhere together, they could decide to walk missing eye-to-missing eye, so that they see what's going on the sides rather than in the middle, things like that. It could make it feel more grounded, so to speak.
I don't see any issues with the moth fake-eyes symbolism either, I think it makes sense for the story you're trying to tell.
If you want to be very safe, I would have a character (can be minor, or background) that's also missing eye(s) that's not connected to any of the potential symbolism and is more of an average Joe of Not Having an Eye.
In case you decide to get into that, it would be nice for them to have different causes of why they don't have eyes. It feels like in fiction it's always physical trauma, but there's a whole more that could cause someone to not have an eye;
anophthalmia,
retinoblastoma,
severe eye infection,
elective enucleation (removal) of an already blind/painful eye,
just to give you a few ideas! Giving them "boring" everyday reasons of eye loss will also make it feel less symbolic and more like a regular disability. Think "dramatic swordfight with Huge Meaning" vs "yeah I had cancer in my eye when I was 2".
I hope that this helps; if you have any further details you'd like to ask about feel free to send another ask!
mod Sasza
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just found you, i see a lot of pre and post family with the teefs. what about during? and directly after? how do they care for their partner during pregnancy? especially if its a diffcult one? and afterward when their partners body has changed and maybe they're less confident about the extra weight, softer body, the extra rolls and teh stretch marks that wont go away? how does each bachelor help or make it better ir suddenly realize that is even wrong to begin with? what if they accidentally something bring out that newly found weakness in their partners confidence? ( sorry if youre busy i know you got stuff to do- i just figured youre the person who could slam dunk these thoughts i had)
Have I... GOTTEN TO THE POINT WHERE I CAN JOIN THE TIEFLING HEAD CANON SQUAD???????
ADDED 4/26/24: This might be a rough list, but I hope you all enjoy!! ❤️
OKAY. I GOTTA ADD CAL. I'M ADDING CAL. THIS SWEET MAN IS A TIEFLING BACHELOR AND DOES NOT HAVE ENOUGH FAN CONTENT... YET.
And thank you for bearing with me--I know that this ask was sent in a hot minute ago! I'm hoping I answered all of your questions; I got to a point of this sitting in my drafts where I just felt bad about how long it had been there, so I tried to be thorough but I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later. I mostly worked on this when I had a few spare moments between chapters, and then I said "screw it. This is getting done. TODAY."
So, for Cal, Rolan, Zevlor, and Dammon--let's go!
DISCLAIMER - I do not have children myself, nor have I ever been pregnant. So I shall do my best!
JUST IN CASE - A CONTENT WARNING: While writing these head canons, I did refer to the tiefling's partner as "you." If reading about being pregnant makes you uncomfortable for any reason, please be aware and be kind to yourself. I have zero doubt in my mind that I will be creating another head canon list, so if you need to pass or wait on this one, that's absolutely okay. Your mental health is important.
Cal
While Cal's partner is pregnant, he will do absolutely anything and everything to make sure they are comfortable. To say that he is doting is putting things very mildly.
He will make your favorite meals, will go out and get whatever you are craving (late night runs--not a problem), will rub your swollen ankles.
Too hot? He's asking Rolan for a cantrip scroll to fix it. Too cold? He's already piling you with blankets.
Are you feeling sick and nauseous? He's already prepping something for you to eat/drink that doesn't have an offensive smell.
And if it's a hard pregnancy? I don't see him leaving your side. If he does, he has Rolan create a sending stone set for the two of you so that you can reach out to him for anything and everything.
Honestly, he doesn't get far enough for him to even use the sending stones. He is looking for anything and everything to make the pregnancy easier on you. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now because he doesn't want you to lay there in pain.
There may be points where he feels helpless because while he can do things to try and alleviate any physical discomfort, there are just times when he might just grasp at straws.
And, in situations where he can't alleviate your physical discomfort, he will do what he can to distract you.
He keeps his stress managed well enough, but that doesn't mean he won't snap at Lia or Rolan if he is too anxious. If he does get openly frustrated with them, it takes both off guard.
I also think he just holds you. A lot. Part of that is to comfort you, and the other part is to assure himself that everything will be okay.
If his partner is dealing with body image issues after giving birth, I see him being confused. You? The most enchanting person he has ever known?
Cut to him kissing you and holding you whenever possible. He'll ask Lia and Rolan to watch the baby whilst the two of you go on outings when your health permits. If it helps you to hear it, he'll remind you how lovely you are. Frequently. Hourly. Every five minutes? Not quite, but close enough.
Personally, I don't think his doting goes away after the pregnancy. And, if it is too much, it might make you feel like he views you as helpless.
If you give voice to this, he goes into immediate mediation mode. He will be extremely apologetic. He loves you and never wants you to think he perceives you as anything other than the phenomenal person you are.
Rolan
Ugh. My beloved.
He might be more stressed about having a child than you are.
He never anticipated being a father, and that might be for 15+ reasons, but he feels drastically unprepared (even if the pregnancy was planned).
He reads every. Single. Book. On pregnancy. He is the parent who gives himself nightmares when he reads about birthing complications.
Every sign of discomfort that you show is a catastrophe on the horizon.
And if it's a difficult pregnancy? Yeah. Dial that up by five notches.
He is preparing for all worst-case scenarios.
If it weren't for Cal and Lia keeping him in check, he would be safety-proofing everything in the tower.
He crafts sending stones so you can call for him if you need anything. ANYTHING.
But also, he starts shadowing midwives and asking lots of questions. If the worst were to happen and you couldn't reach a professional, he wants to be there to help you.
After giving birth, I see him splitting his anxiety between your health/recovery and the baby's overall well-being.
"The baby sneezed. That might indicate five different lethal illnesses. I'm fetching the cleric."
This is another situation where you, Cal, and Lia might have to remind him that, yes, babies do sometimes sneeze, and not everything that lands in the diaper spells doom.
Rolan might not initially understand why you're feeling self-conscious about any weight gain. Of course you're lovely. Also, isn't that what happens with pregnancies? (His words--not mine).
He assures you that you're lovely, but words might not be enough here. He might shove his foot in his mouth while trying to make the situation better.
But the best thing for him to do is remind you, repeatedly, that you are lovely. And that might not have been something he was accustomed to even saying to you prior to you conceiving. He would assume you knew that he was attracted to you.
It honestly might be the strangest (and most endearing) thing to have him say "You look very lovely today. Yes, even with the baby's spit up on your shirt."
Zevlor
*nervously staring at the tiefling I am the most unsure about writing.*
*cracks my knuckles and cries because it hurt like hell*
Zevlor has been through some of the most heinous things that can be thrown at someone. He is a seasoned soldier. A Hellrider. Surely he can help his partner through pregnancy. After all, there were plenty of soldiers in the barracks who has pregnant spouses. He's heard enough stories that he feels prepared.
He survived the Elturel's Descent. It's possible that he helped safeguard someone who was in the middle of giving birth or guided expecting parents to safety. Maybe he had to fight off the devil's skulking the streets if they caught wind/heard that person enduring birthing pains?
So maybe, he thinks, he has already seen some of the worst births ever. Maybe, he thinks, in this time of relative peace, in this home that he and his love have created, it'll be easier?
My personal headcanon for Zevlor is that he put EVERYTHING into being a Hellrider/paladin. It was his life. It was his every breathing moment. And when he became an oathbreaker, it destroyed him. His life was devoted to protecting others, and he feels that he failed in the worst of ways possible.
He certainly had friends and very possibly family that he would see on occasion, but I think that, if you didn't fight alongside him/live in the barracks too, you very likely didn't see much of him.
So maybe he has heard a great deal about pregnancies. And maybe he knows about the complicated ones--just a bit. But he himself is at a loss for when his partner tells him that they are pregnant.
Is he excited? Absolutely. Is he terrified. Oh yeah.
Regardless of how complicated the pregnancy is, he is nervous. He is worried that he will slip up in all the ways that matter, and he is terrified of letting you down.
He's a soldier though, and he prepares for everything.
He has additional blankets and pillows next to the bed.
Hot and cold compresses are ready to go.
He makes sure that he accounts for your cravings whenever shopping.
He has medicine for when the pain is severe. And when the medicine doesn't cut it, he tries his best to distract you--his mileage varies.
And this man adores you. So after the pregnancy, if you are feeling self-conscious, he will worship your body.
Dammon
I could see Cal and Dammon both being very doting, but Dammon would be juggling the forge and helping you.
If you spent a lot of time in the forge with him prior to pregnancy but find that being in there now makes you feel ill, he will absolutely feel lonelier. He is definitely the sort of person who gets very absorbed in his work, and I think this makes him feel guilty. Especially if he feels like him being there could have made things easier for you.
He becomes a meal prep king. Will cook several comfort meals for you to eat while he is working.
Massages swollen ankles and feet and anything else.
While he might have worked later hours in the forge before, he makes a point to wrap things up sooner to spend evenings with you.
That doesn't mean he isn't nervous--you're about to have a child, and he does worry if there will be enough money.
He worries that if he does slow down, commissions will dry up, and then where will that leave the three of you?
If the pregnancy is difficult, he feels guilty for leaving you alone and looks for hundreds of ways to make things easier.
Eventually, he creates a small sitting space for you near the doorway to the shop itself. It's not so close to the forge that you'll be uncomfortably hot or so close that the smell will make you sick, and he sets up a small tarp to create some shade.
If you helped Dammon in the forge before the pregnancy, he is likely hesitant to have you come back and immediately help. Especially if the birth was difficult.
But what you need, more than anything from him, is time
And Dammon wants to be a parent who is present in your life and the baby's, so he does everything to be there.
But money is still a stressor. And he might worry about you being in the forge again. So he's stressed on all fronts.
And while I don't see him commenting or changing how he treats his partner because of weight change, I do see him being VERY reluctant to have you work in the forge with him.
And this may lead to an argument. You know he is stressed about commissions and being there for you and the baby, but you still want to help.
So Dammon dials it back several notches and agrees that you know your body best. So long as you feel comfortable working in the forge, and so long as you listen to your body, the two of you can start it from there.
And it gets easier to balance the forge and child rearing. While the baby isn't allowed close to the open heat/flame until they fully understand why they must be careful (and until their lungs are developed), you and Dammon create a small swing/play area nearby.
#rolan#dammon#cal#zevlor#bg3#bg3 head canons#bg3 headcanons#headcanons#cw: pregnancy#cw: childbirth#tiefling bachelors#baldur's gate 3#bg3 rolan#baldurs gate 3#rolan bg3#tieflings#bg3 tiefling#bg3 fanfic#cw: dammon#dammon bg3#cal bg3#zevlor bg3#ch: cal#ch: rolan#ch: Dammon#ch: zevlor
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Second Chance :)
v v !!!SUCKENING EP 6 SPOILERS!!!! v v
After we find out what happens to Arthur’s siblings, I really hope he’s the oldest. BECAUSE then the twins remind him of his siblings, and therefor he gets to be a big brother again :3
#jrwi the suckening#the suckening#arthur bennett#emezil tucker#shilo bathroy#jrwi grefgor#not shipping#just wanted to make sure that was set in stone#proshippers dni#just roll with it#jrwi fanart#jrwi#i love them with everything i am#bub's sillies
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Can I ask why you draw Annabeth so dark? Is she a WOC in your series? I'm not trying to be chronically online or anything, I'm a darker skinned WOC and it just seems weird to me that you're drawing a blonde woman and giving her a skin tone almost as dark as I am. I'm a huge fan of your work and I truly believe this was done with no malice, I just wanted to bring your attention to it if you hadn't noticed
i'm not really sure what exactly you're trying to bring to my attention...? is there an issue with being blonde and tanned?
sohae beth is based loosely on a drawing viria did a while back (the one perc*beth one where they're baking together), the tan works better as contrast against her hair, and she's really not that dark she usually looks a lot darker bc of colour relativism against her hair (and sometimes compared to percy).
these are the flat colours i use for annabeth.
here it is against some different neutrals.
and here it is greyscaled
in my opinion it's a pretty mid-tone colour, which is why sometimes i personally think she looks paler in some drawings and darker in others even though i'm using the same flat colour. and sometimes she looks different on my phone vs on my ipad vs on my laptop as well.
is she a woc? i think at some point i had said that shes "just tan" but i said a lot of things about sohae that changed later on (like how i wasian-ified percy) mostly i was adjusting colours on the fly in the initial art to what looked good and then pulling from the flat colours there for the rest of the art.
#rbs are off bc i don't want this to start a fight or smth#not art#asked and answered#im not rlly sure where to go from here bc i think itd be weird for me to suddenly pivot and make her paler and at the end of the day#this is sort of how i imagined her in the books#im not trying to be wishy washy at all#but i just wanna put out there that i HAVE dabbled with the idea of sohae beth being non-white prior to thsi ask showing up#just in case i set smth in stone in the future
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Today just hasn’t been a very good day.
#by bug#the weather wasn’t good#and something happened that put me in a weird mood#i didn’t get as much done as i wanted#which. i guess it’s ok bc i did a lot of work the past couple of days#but i just feel really distraught rn#ill make some rice and draw some light-hearted things#i found a job i want to apply to but it’s FT and I’m not sure if I can do that along with my program rn#I’d rather do something PT for the time being but still relevant and then transition back to FT once I am done with this#I wonder if I could still apply and ask them if PT would be an option or if it’s set in stone#I just don’t think I have time/energy for both atm#unless it ends up being one of those jobs that has a lot of downtime so I could do a bit of my school stuff there#it’s probably weird but I do miss work rn#and it’s nice having been lucky enough to kind of put it off for a little bit but that kind of routine is also helpful for me#anyway#on to drawing
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So I’ve been given the potential opportunity in a few weeks to either 1) go visit one of my close work friends who moved 2.5 hours away like 6mos ago, but if I do that it means working with her and our other work friend at her store, which means working 12 days straight, 2 of which would be at a store that is absolute insanity, OR 2) I could not do that and instead possibly get last minute Taylor Swift tickets with my best friend and head 2.5 hours in the opposite direction
#I’m stuck on this decision#especially since right now neither is set in stone or definitive in any way#bc we won’t go visit the work friend of our manager can’t let my work friend I currently work with off for that weekend#but also we can’t buy Taylor swift tickets until like the day of the concert#but since my best friend implanted the idea in my head yesterday now I’m like#damn I wanna do that I love going to concerts and I really don’t like the idea of working 12 days straight for a total of something like a#92 or 94 hour paycheck with 12 or 14 of that being overtime#which would be a nice paycheck I’m sure but fuck like I would want to drop dead#I’ve never had to work that many days straight through#I think the longest I’ve done is like maybe 7 or 8 days in a row#but also that’s only ever been at my store where even our busiest days are less busy than the store we’ll be visiting’s average days#BUT I do want to see my friend and help her out because they need help that weekend specifically bc they already know they’re going to be#insanely busy and that makes me want to cry a little like I feel like our store gets busy when I do 50 cars through our drive thru in a#little less than 2 hours but they’re store as far as I last heard does like 500 or 600 cars a day which like fuck#if we go up there and they put me on drive thru like she made it sound like they’re gonna do then I better JUST be working like order taker#OR the window but not both because I will keel over
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gonna be thinking about this interaction for a while
#terry fitzgerald#jason wynn#spawnposting#at first i thought wynn was mocking terry or condescending him like he usually does & it can definitely be read that way#but to me it seems more like an acknowledgement that terry's got a serious set of stones on him#because this is the second time wynn has seen terry go up against someone or something that he doesn't have any chance of defeating alone#i don't expect it to stick because wynn is an egomaniacal asshole but at least for a moment it seems like he finally respects him#(not that WYNN'S respect of all things is something terry needs or is even looking for but still)#and then you have terry's quiet acknowledgement that wynn seems to have sided with the court of priests purely for survival reasons#which doesn't make him Not opportunistic or evil. but it makes him less of a threat than the others#because he isn't invested in their goal. he even refers to the throne as 'their' most prized possession#as opposed to 'our' to signify that detachment. and if terry wasn't sure then he definitely is now#i'm very curious if this writer will go so far as to have them begrudgingly work together#because unless im misunderstanding they both seem to be in agreement that al taking the throne would be Very Fucking Bad#terry doesn't want an apocalypse & to lose his best friend a second time & i cannot see wynn being thrilled about taking orders from al#idk man it's just. nice to have a writer for this series who's consistent#especially when it comes to character & relationship building. i enjoy it
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I find it unfathomable and astounding that Tumblr isn't more obsessed with Sam Reich. You're telling me there exists out there a man who was born into the aristocracy of our country—with every privilege of modern society at his fingertips—who didn't complete high school (due to his mental health) and instead chose to devote his life to making strangers laugh and raising awareness on mental health. A full-bearded short king who is so committed to being the change he wants to see in the world that he decided to take the company he worked for into his own hands so that he could make sure all the people who worked under him could keep their livelihoods.
How many other CEOs are out here being as honest and transparent with their target audience/market as Sam Reich is? How many of them acknowledge when they fumble and continuously strive to be better than they were? How many of them actually seem like they respect their talent, both in the cast and crew? Sam Reich is the standard we should be holding other CEOs to.
But forget about all that (I could talk for a long time about the respect I have for Sam Reich)—ignore just how respectable he is as a businessman and a person. Ignore all the wholesome reasons for obsessing over Sam Dalton Reich.
The man is a stone-cold fox.
He's a little chaos gremlin and an absolute evil mastermind all rolled into one classy suit and well-groomed beard. Whenever Sam is on the set, you can guarantee he is going to make you crack a smile. And for someone with such natural authority, he's never afraid to be the butt of a joke and show himself being embarrassed. Go ahead, watch any clip of him trying to improvise in No Laugh Newsroom and just try to resist that blush.
You're sleeping on a goldmine of a man, here, damnit! And I will NOT let this go ignored any longer!
#sam reich#dropout tv#dropout#game changer#make some noise#incessant rambles#and yes i did have to stop myself from adding the phrase#''an extremely fuckable five-foot-two package''#at one point in his dumb fucking rant
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Tumblr in the 60s
☮ monkeewholock follow
🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈
🐞 homophilespock follow
SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK
🚀 starrfleet follow
They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.
📻 lesbianbobdylan follow
Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass
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🌻 flowerpower follow
Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes
🌻 flowerpower follow
...i just woke up, why is my askbox full
🌻 flowerpower follow
WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED
🌻 flowerpower follow
guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed
290,9 t. notes
🎹 nixonsafascist follow
do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard
🎹 nixonsafascist follow
easy website
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🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you
🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262
Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.
🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you
🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Oh no I think she couldn't handle that
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✌ draftdodgerdyke
DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.
🙍♀️ silvermilk follow
You should be ashamed of yourself.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
huh??
🙍♀️ silvermilk follow
I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Jesus, don't flip your wig
🙍♀️ silvermilk follow
My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.
#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft
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🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly
🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus
idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post
✝️ jesusrevolution follow
The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.
🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow
How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!
✝️ jesusrevolution follow
Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.
🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post
6,008 notes
🛼 donovandyke follow
I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!
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🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287
Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!
🥁 ringoforpresident follow
it literally does tho
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Another win for us hot guys
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#how do i TAG THIS#can i just tag this ''funny'' or is that patting myself on the back too much#memes#dashboard meme#dash meme#1960s#my friend tirlittan came up with ''draftdodgerdyke''#i want that fictional blogger carnally#funny#tumblr in the 60s
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,
#tag talk#excuse me while I get drunk and ramble about the magic of human connection to my younger friend who hasn't had to deal with all this yet#when people talk about the importance of intergenerational friendships they're talking about me mentoring the gay kids I meet on minecraft#because no one should have to grow up alone.#and sure. “minors shouldn't interact with sex” is a pretty set in stone rule. but do you think the minors are following it?#do you think it benefits kids who are already having sex in high school if we clam up like puritans about the existence of cum?#I did get the chance to refer him to the scarleteen website though so thanks whatever tumblr post offered me that resource#but gay kids with Christian parents deserve the chance to have a safe space to make daddy jokes and talk about having a hard time#and my entire life I've hated disapproving adults who shake their heads and go tsk tsk when you talk about anything they deem inappropriate#I'm not about to turn into one. I'm not about to shut a kid up just because I think they shouldn't think about sex.#they're just going to find that info elsewhere. they're just going to find someone else to talk to. to confide in#no one should grow up alone. I want to be someone people can talk to#I needed someone I could talk about this shit with when I was twelve. you don't get to tell me minors can't ever think about sex#I needed someone when I was a kid and I had no one. I choose caring about others over a rule without context.#gay kids deserve to know that other gay people exist. they deserve to talk to someone who will resonate with their life experience#I do appreciate all the “hey watch out for grooming” PSAs though. I always make sure to steer clear of a lot of those things#cause like. I know I'm above board. but deniability and accountability and all that. but#but kids do deserve to be treated like humans. like beings capable of autonomous thought#which btw this particular friend is legit almost eighteen I'm not getting drunk and talking about sex with a nine year old don't kill me#plenty of seventeen year olds already know about sex and alcohol and drugs and politics and crime and shit#you don't turn eighteen and immediately eat from the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil that's not how growing up works#anyway “people stop having a black and white view about the transition from childhood to adulthood” challenge. there's nuance and ambiguity#I wanted to be treated like a real human being when I was a child. I'm not about to deny that from someone else.
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⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-
⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!
⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader
⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!
⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)
< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>
It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.
You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.
You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.
You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.
It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’
Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.
It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).
The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.
He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!
The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.
‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.
‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’
He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.
Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.
Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.
He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.
“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”
He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.
His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.
“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”
“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.
He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.
The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.
He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?
He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.
It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.
“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”
That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.
The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’
The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.
“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”
You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”
“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.
You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.
He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.
You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.
You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.
Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.
His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.
‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.
“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.
Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.
‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.
He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.
He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.
You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.
You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.
You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.
“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.
Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.
“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.
He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.
He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.
“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.
His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.
His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.
It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.
You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.
Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.
You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.
As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.
“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.
“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”
Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”
You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”
His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.
He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.
His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.
“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.
“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.
“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”
You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.
You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.
What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.
One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.
“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.
Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.
The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.
What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”
The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.
He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.
He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.
He loves you after all, in his twisted way.
tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer
#character x reader#x reader#x female reader#x you#fem reader#scenario#oneshot#smut#x reader smut#x you smut#coriolanus x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#corio snow#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x you#snow x reader#snow x you#president snow#dystopian fiction#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie#the hunger games#tbosas x you#tbosas smut#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#tbosas#arranged marriage
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Simon needing to hold you after a bad day.
The tiny apartment was completely silent as Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside, head hung low and shoulders tense. Lights were turned down, tv was off; you were most likely already asleep by now. It was late, much later than he had told you he’d be back, but he had been struggling with the weight of his thoughts again today and had barely made it in. He would have let you know that he was going to be late… it was just…he couldn’t find the will to even shoot you a quick text.
It wasn’t like him to be concerned about who knew where he was or what he was doing, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone that could potentially catch a glimpse of him cracking behind the mask, but right now all he wanted was to get back to the place he called home before he fell apart and the world would swallow him whole.
As quietly as he could he set his things down beside the door and continued on through the flat, catching little bits of you everywhere: your shoes lying scattered by the wall, the blanket you’d just been curled up in tossed haphazardly in a bundle on the sofa, a mug on the coffee table that had the remnants of your drink stuck to the inside. Scattered bits of you everywhere across his life as little reminders of what he had that waited for him here and for the first time all day it felt a little easier to breathe to know his angel was close by.
Passing near the kitchen, Simon spotted a piece of paper with his name scribbled on the front waiting for him on the countertop, your familiar handwriting obvious to his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it.
Hey baby,
I really tried to stay up, I promise, but you know how work has been kicking my ass lately. I thought maybe I could just take a nap until you got in, but I was worried that if I laid down I wouldn’t wake up, so I thought I’d leave this here for you to find. Didn’t want you to think I forgot about you. Just wake me when you get in, alright? I don’t care what time it is, I want to see you!
Love you.
P.S. I left some dinner in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet. We can reheat it and eat it together. XOXO
Christ, what did he do to deserve all this?
Always looking out for him, always making sure he had a place back in the real world whenever he came home. He held that piece of paper between his hardened fingers, the note more significant than it should have been after the type of day he had. You were the closest to heaven as he could get, more than he ever thought he would get to have and that’s why it was you he was trying to break down that wall to come to for comfort.
His sight flicked to the fridge where you said you’d left him something; he was definitely starving, but just the thought of the effort it would take to eat right now was too much and the knot that rested in the pit of his stomach made him too nauseous anyway. There was something that would fill him far better than food could and he knew just where to find it now.
Moving on to the living room, he set himself down heavily on the couch and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his clothing along with his mask, stripping away all the bits of his life as the stone cold sniper now that he was safe here in his little sanctuary. Stripped bare until he was down to his boxers, Simon gently crept towards the back of the apartment hoping he would make it to the bedroom before this feeling took him.
Closer and closer he walked towards the other half of his heart.
The door stood slightly ajar to invite him inside and as he stepped up to it, he caught the hushed, rhythmic sounds of your breathing as you slumbered. It sounded so peaceful that he could have stood there in the dimly lit hallway and listen to it all night long. Just a few more steps, barely any distance left, and he would truly be home.
The room was completely dark save for the small crack in the curtains that let in just a bit of light from the streetlamp outside, helping him to find his way through the maze of darkness. As those brown eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Simon turned his attention to the bed and his heart skipped a beat. There you were: the outline of your body silhouetted under the covers, your head buried in your pillow, all cares left behind as you slept.
No sound did he make as he crept to the edge of the bed and lifted the sheets so that he could climb inside and up against your body laying in the center. One strong arm slipped up under your pillowed head while the other wrapped around your waist until you were encircled and he pulled you slowly so that your back rested up against his chest. His body molded into yours still warm from being wrapped up tight.
You stirred awake gently at the feeling of that familiar large body suddenly laying beside you. “Hey you,” you whispered sleepily, a smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered as they worked to open. “Tried to wait up, but I got so tired I had to go lay down. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”
Only silence greeted you as a response. No chuckle at your predictability, no picking remarks about how you couldn’t even stay up to see him, just the sound of labored breaths in and out as he lay there in the darkness curled up against you.
Silence only meant one thing and you knew it well.
“You okay baby?” you asked, but again there was no answer. Only the squeeze of his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter to his chest gave you any sort of reply as Simon’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes brushing over your skin.
It was clear just from the silence that he was far from okay, that he must have been bottling this up for God knows how many hours so that the world would not see that he was not always the tough, put together soldier he was supposed to be. But he could not hide it from you...he didn't want to hide it from you.
You heard him inhale deeply, trying to capture as much of your scent as he could until it filled his head: your natural musk mixed with the smell of the sheets and added hints of shampoo and body wash. That comforting scent that belonged to only you that he couldn't ever get enough of, the one that helped to relax his troubled mind. Instantly the tension he had been carrying like a boulder upon his shoulders all day finally released him from its stranglehold.
Gentle, exploring hands tentatively went up under your baggy shirt, one of his old worn ones you loved to wear to bed to keep him close even when he wasn’t there, as he just wanted to make contact with all that delicately soft skin. He traced over curved paths he knew by touch alone: it was soft, it was familiar, it was safe and his heartbeat slowed as the ache in his chest dissipated enough that he could finally talk.
“Bad day,” he whispered finally, warm breath against your shoulder. "Really fuckin' bad day... again."
You rolled over in his arms until you came face to face with those sad auburn eyes, moved by the shame in his tone. It broke your heart that each time he had one of these days he felt such guilt about it, as if he simply should have been over it all by now, as if he wasn't human, but you were not about to let him overthink the struggle. There was nothing to be shameful about.
“I’m sorry baby. These things just happen, you know, but its alright; we'll get through it together, ” you said quietly, fingertips gently running over the line of his eyebrow, down his cheekbone and further to his jaw in soothing circles.
Together.
Simon closed his eyes and eased into your hand as you traced patterns across his temple and through the cropped sides of his hair, letting the vile, churning thoughts rummaging around in his brain to fall away. No one else could ever see him like this save for you, no one else's touch he craved more than anything to bring him back into himself after the day had brought him down so low.
He brought his hand up and placed the tough palm over top of yours to hold it firmly against his cheek as if to make sure that all of this was real, that you were not simply a mirage cast by his broken mind.
“You’re home now, baby,” you reassured him as he took deep breaths in and out with his eyes closed, only wanting to feel you. “It’s gonna be okay, I got you.”
Home, still such a strange word for him.
Wherever you were that was home. Not a place, but a person, one who made certain that no matter how far he drifted she would always pull him back in. Simon had never had such a tether before, but fuck did he need it. He could feel it like medicine running through his blood, when you held him he could feel the chemicals rush to soothe the gaping wound in his heart.
Pulling your hand off his cheek, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the surface before leaning in to give one to your gentle lips. You embraced him back with such tenderness as if to remind him of that promise you had made to each other that neither of you would have to traverse the hell of this world alone.
“Home,” he repeated the tender word in his gravely tone, letting the emotionless second mask fall away. "I hope ya know... that you are my home, sweetheart."
You smiled. "You're mine too, Simon."
He took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Bein' near ya is the only fuckin' thing that seems to help quiet the shit in my 'ead these days."
Pulling him back in, you gave him another kiss. "Then get nice and close," you said softly as you squirmed up under him more, setting his arm back over you.
Securing his arms around you again he moved over top of you so that his head rested against the middle of your chest, ear pressed in against your sternum to listen to your heartbeat rhythmically thump inside. With his hand still inside your shirt he drew his fingertips along your bare hips, not wanting anything more than your company tonight.
Your calming fingers ran through his short hair and over his scalp as he counted the beats of your heart until he melted into your body. Discussion could happen later if and when he was ready, for now this was all he needed. However long he wanted to cling to your torso, you’d let him.
You were his life raft, pulling him back in and no matter how far he drifted and it was because of you that for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like he was going to get lost.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simin ghost riley#ghost simon riley#simon riley fluff#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost#cod ghost#ghost call of duty
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How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101
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Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader
Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.
Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing
A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.
“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”
The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.
You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you.
After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself?
And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.
You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.
You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.
The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.
When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely.
The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.
With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on.
And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.
Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.
"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."
No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.
At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.
You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.
The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.
Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.
"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.
You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Now what?
You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?
You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on.
All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head.
Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.
And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.
Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room.
You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.
You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.
You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.
Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second.
He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.
He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.
You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.
“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.
You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.
“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.
You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.
“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.
“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.
When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.
“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.
You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up.
“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.
“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.
“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”
“Wriothesley.”
After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.
You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.
You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.
Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind.
“Wriothesley!”
The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.
“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”
“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably.
“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.
“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”
“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”
“Please. I insist.”
And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here.
You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.
You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.
“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.
“No. It’s just… why–?”
“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.
“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.
“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.”
You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”
“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.
“Why are you here?” You continued prying.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.
You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.
A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other.
Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.
“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.
“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.
“Great. See you tomorrow then.”
And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off.
You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.
On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.
"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively.
As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.
"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.
"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.
"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.
"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.
“Duke?” You asked confusedly.
“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.
“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.
You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.
The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.
You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.
“Stay.”
You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.
“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”
He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.
“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.
“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.
"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.
You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.
Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!
The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.
You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.
You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.
"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.
Just who was he?
But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.
The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.
Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.
Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.
"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.
"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.
"That you're innocent."
"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-"
You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"I know." He reiterated firmly.
You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.
"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.
"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.
That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.
"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.
He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?
"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"
"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide."
And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.
His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.
He was the one who saved you earlier.
He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."
You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.
"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."
But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.
"Will I be able to see you again?"
A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.
"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.
A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.
And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.
And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.
Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.
#genshin impact#astronetwrk#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x y/n#genshin fluff#genshin wriothesley#genshin x y/n#genshin impact fanfic#genshin drabbles#genshin scenarios#genshin brainrot#genshin headcanons#🍁 dust writes#🍁彡 gi
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On The Altar
cw: kidnapping, size difference, attempted human sacrifice, indoctrination, culty vibes, blood, hunting animals for food, self-loathing, allusions to drowning, heights, non-human genitalia, voyeurism, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, everyone in this is having a rough time
male dragon x male knight x fem reader
word count: 12k
Your breath caught as you stared at yourself in the mirror and a sort of disappointment washed over you. The white ceremonial dress draped across your form, fitted perfectly to you.
You were supposed to look better than you ever had. Your heart sank a little when realized you didn’t think you did.
Your birthday a few months ago. You thought you looked better then.
You should have toned it down, not given yourself such a high bar to clear. It was your own fault, really.
It had just been your last one. You'd wanted to make it count
Your head felt heavy with the ceremonial braids in your hair and the golden crown atop your head. It matched the rest of your accessories. Golden bracelets and necklaces and cuffs that circled your biceps.
You wondered if it was real gold. Of course, everyone said it was but it seemed like a difficult thing to manage, a whole set of new golden adornments made every year just for it to be lost. A Sisyphean task.
You didn’t have to worry about that. Your responsibility was far from that of the clothing and jewelry makers. You didn’t have to do any work at all, a crowd of women ensuring you didn’t so much as lift a finger on your day, bathing you and dressing you in unfamiliar clothes.
You’d spent the whole day preparing. This was the first time you’d had a chance to breathe.
Excitement and nerves all swelled inside of you, neither able to snuff the other out.
Time was flying by and you weren’t sure whether you wanted it to slow or speed up. Part of you wanted to cherish these last few moments but it was almost here. It was almost your time.
They tied you up. Not that they had to. You weren’t going anywhere. It was just tradition.
You forgot to treasure your last moments of sight before someone behind you pulled a blindfold over your eyes.
All you were left to do was imagine it. Being pulled from where you stood on the shore, being dragged under the water, the air leaving you as you fulfilled your duty.
And the town saved.
They’d do it again next year and again the next, just like they had for decades. But this year was yours. You would save them.
What a privilege it was to die for them.
You wondered if the ropes ruined the lines of your dress. You supposed you’d never find out.
Something hooked around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but flinch. You took in a big gulp of air instinctually, knowing what was coming.
You braced yourself to be dragged forwards and instead slipped backward as you were lifted in the wrong direction. The ground disappeared from under you before you could fall.
Your legs kicked, searching for anything below you, but you found nothing. The wind rushed up around you and despite your lack of vision, you could feel that you were rising up and up and up.
You were meant to be dragged down to the depths and yet here you were, being hoisted into the sky. Claws dug into your skin and you were still blind and disoriented. Fear overtook you.
You reached up and felt at whatever was carrying you, finding scaly skin connected to the strong talons digging into your shoulders.
And then, as quickly as you’d been scooped up, you were being dropped. Rocks scraped your skin as you tumbled onto a hard stone floor. The bindings had come undone during the fall and you scrambled for your blindfold, squinting when the harsh light reached your eyes.
As your vision began to adjust, you saw an enormous figure in front of you. At first, all you could see was a silhouette. Massive wings curled into the figure and the dragon that was slowly coming into focus in front of you stared right back at you.
It was retreating into mounds of shiny things, gold and silver, old pieces of armour and crowns and candelabras piled into the cave you’d been thrown into.
It stood out amongst the collection, a hulking creature with scales that shone a dark bronze that matched little of his horde. It was probably 20 feet long, its head cocked to the side as it watched you.
Your instincts screamed at you to run, to get as far away from the creature as possible.
You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. If you tried to run it could just scoop you up again. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was activate a hunting instinct. Maybe right now, covered in gold jewelry, he saw you as something for his horde. It was certainly preferable to the alternative.
He didn’t seem to be eating you, which you took as a good sign. Maybe if you removed the gold from yourself, it would lose interest in you and you could sneak out. If you rushed and were lucky, maybe you could even make it back in time. A sacrifice without the ceremonial adornments wasn’t ideal but it would certainly be better than nothing.
You slowly lifted your hand to the golden cuff on your bicep, praying it wouldn’t think you were trying to take it. You tried to rip it from the white fabric of your dress, wanting to return home with at least some of your dignity, and your clothes, intact.
Its head tilted further to the side and then a voice sounded, echoing off the walls. “What are you doing? Why would you ruin such a lovely dress?”
You froze at the noise, looking up wide-eyed at the creature. It couldn’t have. That wasn’t possible. Dragons were forces of chaos. Mindless beasts, nothing more.
You blinked slowly, wondering if maybe you hadn’t woken up this morning quite yet. Or perhaps you’d been pulled underwater too quickly to notice and this was the oxygen deprivation messing with your mind.
“Hello,” you responded.
Its jaw opened to reveal layers of teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. “Hello!”
You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “What… why did you take me?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. The last thing you wanted was to upset the creature.
“You were out there to be taken, yes?”
Oh. You supposed you were. Perhaps you’d been sending mixed messages to the monsters of the world.
You wondered if maybe some town made sacrifices just like you to dragons.
“I was,” you said cautiously. “But not for you. For the creatures of the deep. Fishing is our life, it’s how we survive. We need the waters to be safe.”
“Not… what? You’re… but I thought. So you weren’t out there for me?” He sounded heartbroken.
“It’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Misunderstandings happen. Just take me back and everything will be fine.”
“No, it doesn’t make sense. You’re covered in gold. You can’t just cover someone in gold and not expect a dragon to come snatch them up. You must have known. You must be for me.”
“Well, I’m not. And I would love to go home now.”
“What do they even want with you?” it asked, avoiding any discussion of bringing you back. “I don’t know much about humans but I know you aren’t water creatures. They couldn’t even take you anywhere, they’d have to come all the way up to visit you every day.”
Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”
You’d assumed he’d taken you for the same reasons as the creatures you sacrificed maidens to every year. To take and consume, to feel worshiped. But it sounded like this dragon had entirely different ideas as to why a monster would want a sacrifice.
“I wouldn’t have to just visit you,” he said. “I could be with you all the time. Take good care of you. No water involved. I’d keep you warm and fed and completely dry.”
“I’m not given to be a pet,” you snapped.
The creature reeled back and began backpedaling instantly. “I didn’t mean you’re like a pet, I just meant…”
“They were going to kill me,” you said. “I’m a sacrifice. They need to kill me. It’s the only way.”
It took him a minute to understand what you could possibly mean by that. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand.
You didn’t have time for this. “Just take me back,” you pleaded with him.
He paused. “They’re going to kill you?”
“It’s none of your concern what they’re going to do.”
He dropped his head low, resting it on his tail with a huff. “Then I’m not taking you anywhere.”
Your heart sank. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I can’t let them hurt you.”
You let out an exasperated groan, burying your head in your hands. “It has to happen, without it so many more will perish.
“What if I start terrorizing your village!” the dragon said, with the intonation of someone who’d just had a great idea but none of the content. “Or say I would if I didn’t have you. Then your sacrifice won’t have been for nothing.”
Reasoning with him was starting to seem pointless. “Please don’t.”
“Well, either way, I’m not letting you go back. If I let you go, it would be like I hurt you. No, you can stay here.”
You could not do this, couldn’t argue with this strange creature who was incapable of understanding how vital it was that you returned so your town had its proper sacrifice.
You stormed over to the corner of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall with a huff.
He just stared at you, neverendingly, undeterred by your attitude.
“It can’t be comfortable over there,” he called out to you.
“Leave me alone!” you shouted back, curling in further on yourself.
He wanted to approach you, you could tell that much. His hesitation was evident and he took small steps forwards before pulling himself back, repeating the gesture over and over until he seemed to come to a conclusion.
“Alright. I can go for a while. Don’t hurt yourself.”
With that, he gave you a final once-over and flew out of the cave.
He was hard to read. The way a dragon worked was unfamiliar to you. The most you could do was take guesses and try your best. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be around long enough to figure out the intricacies of dragon body language.
You should run. If you were going to have a chance to escape, this would be it.
As you edged out of the cave, your dreams of making it down the mountain were crushed. There was, technically, a sort of path down the mountain. It was barely a few feet wide with a sheer cliff at the edge of it.
You hadn’t eaten since this morning. You were scared and exhausted and there was a slight tremor in your hands you couldn’t quite seem to rid yourself of. There was no way you could safely traverse that path.
You went back into the cave with a huff, waiting for your captor to return.
Eventually, he did, blood dripping down his face as he dropped an animal in front of you. It was hard to tell what it was with the way it was mangled. It was clearly a fresh kill.
You stared blankly at him, edging further away and into the cave wall.
At your lack of reaction, he nudged the creature towards you. “You should eat,” he said.
“I can’t eat that.”
You prayed he wouldn’t try and force you.
“Why don’t you just eat me?” you spat at him. “At least it would be better than this.”
At least then you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that you’d failed, and your village would pay the price.
He tilted his head once more. “Why would I do that? I’ve wanted to meet a human for a very very long time. I’ve got another friend too, come look.”
He started to wander back into the cave, behind piles of gold and you hesitantly followed him on shaky legs.
When you reached the back of the dark cave, you found a single, frightened sheep sitting atop a massive patch of grass that seemed to have been uprooted from the ground.
“I took him from a field. I couldn’t eat him, he had sad eyes.”
“Do I have sad eyes?” you asked. Maybe that was why he insisted on keeping you, refusing to let you go back home.
He looked at you and as hard as it was to read the facial expressions of a dragon, you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Is it that bad?” you asked as you looked away.
“Not bad. You just look like you're hurting.”
If you were it was because of him. This was supposed to be the best day of your life, the only day that mattered. And instead, you were here, looking at a poor terrorized sheep who was in the same position you were in.
“So, what can you eat?” the dragon asked. Before you could give an answer, it said, “Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.”
You didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was. He was off again, moving through the cave until you heard the telltale flapping noise that meant you were alone once more.
You looked down at the sheep again.
Maybe not entirely alone.
He returned swiftly with a whole market cart in tow. It had piles of bread in it, although they were a little worse for wear from the flight. You had no doubt that some unsuspecting farmers had found it raining loaves of bread as he made his way back.
You were too hungry to worry about scolding him for the thievery. You grabbed the first piece you could get your hands on and took the biggest bite you were capable of.
Your dragon watched, seemingly entranced by the sight.
As you chewed your first bite of freshly baked bread he asked, “I did alright this time?”
You nodded, unable to speak through the mouthful of food.
As you finished scarfing down your bread, you sat in the grass with your new sheep companion and asked your captor, “Do you have a name?”
The dragon considered this for a moment. “No. No one has ever needed to call me anything.”
“Oh. I thought dragons would have names.”
“They do. Just not me.”
You looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What, just you?”
He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations from the noise cascading through the stone under you. “Didn’t bother to give me one. I was the runt so you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t really know how people work. With dragons, the littlest one always has to go. That’s the way it is.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I get a little lonely but now you’re here!”
You rolled your eyes, collapsing back into the grass. If you closed your eyes you could pretend you were outside your village lying in a field instead of trapped in a dark cave on a cold mountain. “Yeah, now I’m here.”
The moment couldn’t last. It was too cold, there was no wind. The air smelled different.
“You know,” you said. “We had stories about dragons. Big terrifying ones that wanted to hurt people. My mother used to tell me stories of Pytho. I was so scared of him when I was little.”
“Oh.” You heard his wings rustle and opened one of your eyes to peek over at him, shuffling uncomfortably in place.
“I could call you Pytho,” you added. “It’s the only dragon name I know.”
“If you think it fits, I suppose. I thought you said he was big and scary?”
You laughed. “Well, from my perspective, you’re pretty big and scary.”
Instead of being pleased at your words, he reeled back. “Are you scared of me?”
You shrugged. “I was. Not so much anymore. Honestly, I think on any other day, I would’ve liked you”
“But not today?”
You shook your head. “Not today.”
“Well then,” he said as he began to curl up into a ball, “Maybe tomorrow.”
You backed up, leaning against the cold wall, and tried to suppress your tears at the thought that there would be a tomorrow for you at all.
When you woke up, it was all still real. A dragon snored beside you as a sheep stared at you with the saddest gaze you’d ever seen.
Maybe, as you looked at it, it thought the same thing about you.
Pytho stirred from his slumber, immediately turning to check on you.
When you felt his warm breath directed at you, you realized just how cold you were. Not that you were going to do anything about it. Your only source of warmth was the dragon in front of you and you were going to go nowhere near him.
You clench your fists, doing your best to stop the shivering.
He didn’t seem to notice. With the warmth that he radiated, you were sure that the concept of being cold was something that was foreign to him.
You turned away from the creature. If he wouldn’t take you back, the least you could do was deprive him of your attention.
It wasn’t much but it was all you had.
The day passed slowly but still, it passed. You spent it wallowing in the corner.
Pytho left you alone after the first few outbursts. He seemed to understand that you needed your space. You could appreciate him for at least that much.
As the sun began to set once more, you began to realize just how much warmth and light the day had brought to this miserable cave.
You curled in on yourself, not far from how Pytho slept.
You watched him begin to settle in for the night and saw a moment of hope where he tried to move closer to you. You glared at him and he stopped in his tracks.
“You’re still upset with me,” he noted.
“Of course I am. There’s nothing for me now. It was supposed to be over and now it’s not. You took that from me.”
“I took your ending,” he said, and you knew he understood.
“You did.”
“You’ll find a new ending someday.”
“But that one was mine. It mattered,” you said, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get it.
“You matter.”
You scoffed. “I did.”
“You do.”
You turned away from him with a huff. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”
“Goodnight, little human.”
You fell into a fitful sleep against the cold stone of the cave. When you woke, however, you felt warm and safe.
You opened your eyes to find Pytho standing over you, his body heat covering you in waves of warmth, even when he wasn’t touching you.
“You were shivering,” he said, like it was that simple. You were cold, he was warm. There wasn’t anything else to be done. You hadn’t even known he understood what shivering was.
You slid away from him, back into the cold.
He watched you. That’s all he ever seemed to do. Watch you. “You’re mad at me but you’re punishing yourself.”
You didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me go back.”
“I will not.”
You tried to sleep again but the cold felt harsher now, crueler. It was your turn to watch him, remember the waves of heat across your skin.
You waited until his breathing leveled out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming uniform. You couldn’t handle a smug look or excitement. You just needed to sleep.
You took the few steps between you slowly and gently leaned against his side.
Almost instantly, without thinking, he curled around you, bundling you up in a nest of warm scales. His breathing was steady against your side.
You’d never slept better.
You woke to find his head a few inches from yours, propped up on his tail and staring at you with a soft gaze.
“Good morning,” he said.
You gave him a hum of acknowledgment back.
You were wracked with guilt. How could you be enjoying this, allowing yourself even these minor comforts? It wasn’t right. None of this was right.
You pulled away from him, feeling sick.
Traitor. You’d betrayed them after they’d put so much trust in you. Who knew what was happening to them now, while you slept feeling warm and comfortable.
“You still want to go?” he asked in hushed tones as you backed away, clearly afraid of the answer.
You nodded. “I’m always going to want to go. I have to make this right.”
He let out a pained whine and moved towards you slowly, giving you the chance to stop him.
You didn’t.
“You could be happy here,” he insisted. “Why won’t you just be happy here?”
“It just wasn’t meant to be."
“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he whined out.
You pressed your forehead to his. “Does it not matter what I want?”
He let out a huff and hot air cascaded over your face. He was always so warm.
You pressed a kiss to his scaly nose. “I know you want to help, but I have to do this. Please let me do this.”
And he stared. Just stared at you, like he was drinking it in, trying to memorize you.
Finally, his face fell and you knew exactly what it meant.
“If you change your mind…” he said. “If you ever get the chance, come back to me. You’ll always have a safe place here.”
You nodded, still holding his head in your hands. You knew you never would, but it was nice to imagine returning someday.
You looked down at your dress, dirty and torn, and you finished ripping off the golden cuff you’d started to tear days ago.
“You can have this if you want. For what could have been.”
His eyes were glassy. You didn’t know dragons could cry. He grasped the golden cuff in his talons, tucking it away far from the rest of the gold, instead next to his beloved sheep. “For what could have been.”
A forlorn laugh escaped you as you looked at him. All three of you had sad eyes now.
Before either of you had the chance to rethink it, he moved towards the mouth of the cave and you followed.
Familiar talons grasped your shoulders and you were off again.
This time, there was no blindfold. An entire landscape unfolded below you and you watched towns and rivers and forests pass you by at incredible speeds.
Your hands reached up to grab Pytho’s legs, the seer distance to the ground making you dizzy.
The flight was shorter than you remembered. You wished it wasn’t but as your feet touched grass, real grass rooted in the real ground, you knew there was nothing to be done.
He dropped you off near the village but still outside of it. It was for the best, you couldn’t imagine anyone inside the town would be particularly pleased to see him. Worst case scenario, they might even try and hurt him.
As soon as you’d properly landed he flew off, leaving you behind. No parting words, no last look. Before you knew it he was gone, a distant silhouette on a blue sky.
Good. You didn’t want him to see what might happen here anyways.
The walk back was too quiet. You could hear the birds and the wind but none of it was enough to drown out the blood rushing in your ears.
You didn’t know why your heart was pounding so loudly. This was what you wanted. You were back, ready to repent for the crime of being stolen.
The first person who saw you was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He wandered on the outskirts of the village but as soon as he saw you he turned and ran back into the town, probably telling tales of your miraculous homecoming.
You’d been so caught up in your return you had managed to think of little else but now, as you neared society once more, you realized what a mess you’d become. Your sacrificial dress was brown with now much dirt it had collected, ripped and shredded and hanging off of you in tatters. You were sure your face and hair were just as dirty.
You walked further and further into town, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d assumed someone else would tell you what to do but instead, they grouped together and stared, whispering and pointing as you trudged your way through the village.
As you reached the center of town, you found a gathering waiting for you.
You stopped in front of them, waiting as they inspected you. The same people who’d helped ready you and told you how vital you were to the town now looked down at you with thinly veiled disdain plastered across their faces.
“I came back as soon as I could,” you said, your voice sounding small and weak.
The man at the front of the group, the one who chose the sacrifices, made speeches about its vitalness every year, spoke. His voice boomed across the gathering. It didn’t feel fair. He was accustomed to speaking to crowds like this. You weren’t meant for this, of course you sounded small. “We chose another,” he said, and his words echoed in your ears.
Your heart sank in your chest. Of course they did. What else would they have done? At least it meant the town was safe. So why did it sting so badly?
“I can do it next year,” you said. “Please, let me do it next year. I’m here now.”
The man turned up his nose at you. “You abandoned your post.”
You could feel yourself getting more and more frantic as he spoke. “No, I was taken. I came back as soon as I could, I promise! Please.”
“An example must be made.”
You nodded, searching for a way out, any way you could still be useful. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”
The women who’d helped you bathe and get dressed a few days prior surged forwards, grasping at your arms. They held you in place as you refused to struggle.
“This is what happens to deserters,” he called out over the crowd.
You could barely think, barely hear his words.
The fact that you’d been replaced kept running through your mind. You’d been raised for this. It was all you’d ever wanted. You’d dreamed of it.
You weren’t so sure you wanted it anymore.
It didn’t matter anyways. It was too late. You’d left.
The man chanting to the crowd pulled out a knife.
It felt like what you deserved. Your chest tightened with guilt and fear. Now it wouldn’t even be for anything. Just an example, nothing more.
Maybe it was saving them, in a way. Saving them from an epidemic of girls who thought they could escape it and damn the town in the meantime. Maybe you still could die for something.
A thudding sound echoes in your ears, slightly out of time with your heartbeat. It felt almost grounding, helped you ignore the chants of deserter and heathen. You didn’t have the strength to try and defend yourself, to insist that no, you’d fought to come back. You weren’t even sure you believed that anymore. You latched onto the thudding, anything to get those words out of your head.
And then the arms that had held you down were being ripped away and instead you found yourself being lifted. This was not the endless upwards motion of your dragon. Instead, you found yourself hoisted onto the back of a horse.
Hard metal dug into your side and you looked up to see a knight in full armour, his face hidden by his helm and his arm hooked around your waist.
You pounded your fists against him, fighting to be let go. “No!” you shouted. “I need to do this. I need to be forgiven.”
The knight's grip on you tightened and the horse you were both on sped up. Neither seemed to find your fighting anything more than mildly inconvenient.
Before long, your struggle slowed. You were becoming very used to the intense frustration that accompanied being trapped, being taken away with no regard for what you wanted.
You lost track of time as you rode. You’d just been trying to make things right, even if you couldn’t do what you were meant to do. The universe seemed intent on stopping you.
Maybe you’d done something wrong, offended the cosmos so severely you were no longer permitted to do what you were meant for.
As the horse slowed, the knight's grip on you loosened.
He set you gently on the ground in the midst of this unfamiliar forest and you glared up at him.
“Can I go now?” you hissed. “Or am I still being kidnapped?”
“There were going to kill you,” he said as he dismounted his horse.
“You don’t know what was going on,” you insisted. “Maybe I deserved it.”
He rummaged around in his saddlebag. “Maybe.”
You reeled back a little, not expecting him to agree with you. “Oh. Can I go back then?”
“No. Here, eat this.” He held out some dried meat in your direction.
You refused it. It would be a waste anyways.
“Why can’t I go?” you asked. If he didn’t even know if you were in the right, what reason could he possibly have for taking you?
“I’ve heard about your village, you know. I was worried I was too late. They’ve messed with your mind. It’s not your fault but you’re not making good choices right now.”
“My choices are fine,” you shouted. “Who are you to decide that? You don’t even know what I did.”
“What did you do?”
“I shirked my duty. I should have been there.”
“For what?”
“To be their sacrifice.”
“You didn’t deserve that.”
You did, but he couldn’t know that. It was beyond him.
It was hard to remember where you were. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you home? Or were you? You knew that you should be. Why wouldn’t you be?
You saw your dress, dirty and crumpled and ripped. You’d ruined it. How would you go through with the ritual now?
Something in you always knew you’d ruin it somehow. And now things were all wrong. Who else’s fault could it be?
The knight pushed some food at you and once again you were in a forest far from home.
You threw it back at him. “I said I don’t want it. Aren’t you going to eat?”
That damn helmet stared back at you for a moment before he said, “Maybe later.”
“Do you have a name?” you asked, desperate to get anything from him.
“Phillip.”
You missed your dragon. At least you could see his face and try to figure out what he was thinking.
He got up without warning, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement.
He froze for a second as you did, staring down at you before continuing on, trudging through the nearby bushes.
He returned in a few moments.
“There’s a pond back there,” he said, gesturing towards the foliage. “It’s not too cold, you should be fine.” He started to move back towards his horse before pausing for a moment and adding, “It might make you feel better.”
You went to inspect this pond as he tended to his horse.
It was a small pond, the trees around it curling over the top of it, mostly blocking out the sun. You dipped your foot into the water and found that the knight was technically right, it wasn’t cold enough to hurt you. It still wasn’t a pleasant temperature but right now it was the best you were going to get.
As you tested out the water, you watched from behind the bushes as he mounted his horse and started to ride away.
It made sense. You wouldn’t want to keep you around either. At this point, you were just ungrateful dead weight.
You considered taking off your dress and attempting to keep it dry but at this point, it consisted more of rips and dirt than anything. Dousing it in water might do it some good.
You sunk into the cold water, doing your best to get the dirt out of your hair. As long as you were in here, you might as well attempt to get clean.
You wondered if you could find your way back to Pytho’s cave. If you could manage to get close you were sure he’d be able to find you. At least you hoped he would. It was the only place you had left to go.
You had no real desire to prolong the bath in the cold water. You just didn’t know what came next. After this, where could you even go?
Your fingers began to prune and you know you couldn’t do this forever.
As you exited the pool in your sopping wet, muddy, ripped ceremonial dress, you decided you needed to go. You weren’t sure if you were trying to find your village or Pytho but it didn’t really matter, you had no sense of what direction either was in. You just needed to be headed somewhere.
You made it half a dozen steps before you collapsed.
You didn’t even notice he’d returned until he was right in front of you, staring down at you collapsed in the dirt in your soaking-wet dress.
You watched his helmet as he looks you up and down, lingering a second too long on your chest before snapping his head back up towards your face.
He cleared his throat and you would have bet money that his face was bright red beneath his helm.
“Apologies, my lady. I thought you might want some fresh clothes.”
He held out some folded clothes with a pair of leather boots balanced atop them.
No. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the last outfit you ever wore. It felt like a betrayal to take it off.
“No thank you,” you said from your spot on the ground. “I’ll stick with what I have.”
“I know they’re not much but they’ll fit.”
You shook your head again.
You heard a quiet, muffled sigh escape him. “The sun is setting, you’ll freeze to death if you wear those. You can change back in the morning if you really want to.”
You eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”
He nodded. “Promise.”
You took the clothes with a sigh. “Fine. Turn around.”
You’d never seen him move so fast. It was like he was afraid you’d start stripping the second you decided to change.
A giggle escaped you and you watched his shoulders tense up at the noise. It seemed like the two of you were having entirely different kinds of crises.
You got dressed as quickly as you could, a chill starting to set deep in your bones. He’d found you a faded red tunic that hung midway down your thighs and some pants that miraculously fit pretty well.
The boots had thick woolen socks inside and putting them on felt like heaven. You swore you’d never wear pretty shoes again as long as these were an option.
You didn’t bother telling Phillip he could turn around. He’d figure it out in his own time. Or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really your problem.
As you got ready to sleep, you watched him, keeping track of time as best you could. It took him about twenty minutes before he finally peeked over his shoulder, finding you sitting with your back against a tree.
You gave him a halfhearted smile and he cleared his throat. “You should rest now,” he said. “We have to leave at dawn.”
“And when are you going to stop dragging me around with you?”
“Whenever you’d like. I can drop you off at a town tomorrow. I just have something I need to attend to first”
You knew by now not to get hopeful. “Can you drop me off at my town?” You kept asking but you didn’t know what the point of it was. There was nothing for you there anymore. The most you could do was repent. Pay for what you’d done. But for what?
“I can drop you off at any other town.”
You slid down the tree, basically lying on the ground. “Alright.
He spent the rest of the night in full armour and you wondered if maybe part of him thought you might attack him. Either that or these woods were more dangerous than you knew.
He awoke you the second the sun began to peek over the horizon and you groaned, trying to kick him away from you.
He would not be deterred, coaxing you up and onto the back of his horse. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around him for stability with minimal protest. You didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.
It took you too long to realize you'd left your dress behind, discarded in the mud.
The ride was much more comfortable when you weren’t being held captive.
Forests and plains and mountains passed, all foreign and strange. You’d never left your town before, never seen anything like this. Even in your bad mood, it was hard not to admire it.
Your heart stopped as you noticed one of the mountains that the two of you were fast approaching seemed familiar.
It had taken you too long to recognize it but in your defense, you were used to seeing it from a cave right at the peak.
You shut your eyes and prayed to anyone that might be listening that you’d ride right by it.
If the gods were listening, they had a special hatred for you. You weren’t sure you could blame them.
Phillip lead the horse along the precarious path you’d deemed too dangerous only days ago.
You needed to figure out a plan but you had nothing.
With only a few minutes left before you reached the peak, Phillip dismounted, holding out his hand to help you down. You half considered trying to take his horse to go warn Pytho but you had no real idea how to ride one on your own and you couldn’t shake the feeling you’d ride the pair of you right off the cliff edge. The poor creature didn’t deserve that.
You dismounted and Phillip nodded, getting right back on the horse. “You stay here, I won’t be long.”
“No,” you yelled, a little louder than was necessary. Phillip flinched, probably worried it had echoed up the mountain and warned the dragon at the top of his presence. You hoped it had. “I want to come.”
“These are dangerous lands, m’lady. I will not let you get hurt.”
You scowled at him. “You know, people won’t stop saying that to me.”
The helm stared down at you, unwavering, before he gave his horse a swift kick in the side and it rode up the narrow path.
You took off in a dead sprint after him.
You neared the top of the path, panting, just in time to see Phillip creeping into the cave, sword drawn and at the ready.
You had no idea what to do. You couldn’t just stand here and do nothing but you felt frozen in place.
The problem was, you’d rather neither of them were hurt. It felt like an impossible situation.
Pytho needed to be warned but as gentle as he’d been with you, he could decimate Phillip in a second. That much you were certain of, no matter how competent of a knight Phillip might be.
You finally willed yourself to move, darting into the cave to see Pytho standing over Phillip, who had his sword positioned right at the dragon’s neck.
Before you could even think, you shouted, “Don’t hurt him!”
You had no real idea which of them you were talking to but both stopped in their tracks, heads spinning towards you.
For one moment you were terrified one would take advantage of the distraction to harm the other and then their blood would be on your hands. Before the worry had time to settle, Pytho swung his tail around, hitting Phillip over the head with it.
He instantly collapsed to the ground, going limp.
You rummaged around in the saddlebag as Pytho stared at you. When you finally found rope you raised it triumphantly.
Pytho’s gaze followed it up. “What is that?” he asked as you rushed towards the knight.
“It’s rope,” you informed him as you tried and failed to drag him across the floor. As soon as Pytho realized what you were doing, he swept him effortlessly into the corner for you.
You bound his hands behind his back, tethering him to some heavy golden chair that would at least slow any escape he tried to make.
“You’re back,” Pytho said behind you, his voice airy and incredulous and so very grateful.
You turned from binding the knight with a big smile. “I am. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back but this guy led me right here,” he said, nudging at him with your foot.
He didn’t seem to hear any of it. “I can’t believe you’re back.” His eyes were wide, refusing to leave you.
You nodded, grabbing Phillip’s abandoned sword and throwing it right off the mountain, listening to the clanging noises as it bounced all the way down. You glanced nervously at Phillip as you returned, leading his horse over by the sheep. “I am. This is so rude but can you please go for a couple minutes? If you’re still here when he wakes I’m afraid he might perish from fright.”
He nodded. “If that’s what you want. I will be back.”
He bumped his head lightly into you before heading out, flying off somewhere.
And not a moment too soon.
The knight stirred from his slumber. The only way you could tell was by how his helm slowly moved up, rising to meet your gaze.
The second he did he tried to move before realizing he was bound. “Why?” he asked you. “I don’t understand, you… Was this all a trap?” His voice cracked and he sounded genuinely hurt by the betrayal.
You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as he struggled against his bindings. Quiet fearful noises escaped him as he glanced between you and Pytho’s horde.
You shushed him, your hands up in a quiet surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’ll be just fine.”
“We? You’re in cahoots with this monster?”
You bristled at the harsh langue but did your best to be forgiving to the frightened man.
“He’s not a monster. He helped me. Why are you even here? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”
“That’s not what I heard. From what I’ve heard he’s been snatching up women.”
You groaned, rubbing at your temples. As you did, the knight leaned forward as much as he could and even through the stoic armour, you could tell exactly when he realized.
“No. But… but you….”
“I just wanted to help my people. I don’t know why every creature within a thousand miles is trying to stop me.”
“If he took you, how did you escape?”
“I didn’t. I asked him to let me go, to be able to make my own choices, and he did. Because he respects me and didn’t kidnap me on the back of a horse!” You tactfully decided to omit the original kidnapping. At least for now. You had a feeling it wouldn’t help your case.
“Please, it’s a dragon, it…”
“He! He’s a dragon! And at least he’s allowed me to make decisions.”
He reeled back. “I… you were going to get yourself killed. I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed. It isn’t right.”
“And it’s not your choice to make.”
He hung his head, helmet clanging against his chest plate.
Pytho chose then to return, his tail swishing happily as he walked. He rubbed up against your side, letting out a happy rumble as he did.
“So they let you go?” Pytho asked, ignoring the man on the floor.
“Not exactly. They were going to kill me. They wanted to make an example of me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t imagine that the example they wanted to set was getting rescued by a knight but I suppose that’s the hand they were dealt.
Pytho turned his gaze to Phillip. “You saved her?”
He nodded hesitantly.
Another pleased noise escaped Pytho. “He’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t let me kill him.”
“About that,” you said and you watched Phillip freeze up, all of his limbs locking. You glanced at him, adding, “I said we weren’t going to hurt you, calm down. I was just going to say, Pytho, you should let him go.”
The dragon tilted his head. “Why? I like him, he’s shiny.”
You suppressed a laugh. “He’s not shiny, his armour is. It’s like clothing.”
“Oh. Why do you creatures insist on that stuff? Seems awfully restrictive.”
Phillip cut into your conversation, saying, “I can’t leave.”
You looked over at him, a wave of irritation rushing through you. “Why not?”
“I can’t leave you here with this beast.”
You had half a mind to throw something at him. “Get this through your head, I don’t need you to save me.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” he continued, undeterred.
“Fine. But I’m not untying you and risking you hurting him.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Pytho’s head swiveled between the two of you as you bickered. As the argument finally finished, he asked in a hushed tone, although still lough enough that Phillip could hear, “Does that mean we get to keep him.”
You snorted. “Guess so. It’s your lucky day.”
“It really is,” he said, voice as genuine as it could be.
The sunlight was fast fading and you knew how cold it could get in here. You had no intention of sleeping alone but you glanced at your mostly willing captive.
“Pytho?” you called out.
He turned to you immediately. “Yes? Do you need something?”
“Could you go get some wood?”
“Of course I can,” he said, already speeding off.
When he returned, he had a whole tree in his mouth and another in his talons, dirt still clinging to their roots.
You bent over laughing as he dropped them both in front of you, tail swishing behind him. They’d barely fit through the mouth of the cave, filling up a significant amount of the room and knocking over at least one pile of gold in the meantime.
You got to work snapping off some of the more reasonably sized branches, having Pytho move the trees back outside as you finished.
You set them up a few feet away from Phillip, far enough away that he’d be safe but could still feel the warmth.
“You can breathe fire right?” you called back to Pytho. It would be unfortunate if he couldn’t because you did not have the proper tools to start one here.
He nodded, visibly eager. “Do you need one?”
“Just on the sticks here. Make sure not to burn anyone,” you said, nearing Phillip to ensure that he didn’t forget there was a person inside of the shiny armour and cook him.
With a quick and surprisingly controlled burst of flame, the pile of sticks turned into a quaint little fire.
You gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder as you headed over to Pytho. “Goodnight. Have fun sleeping in full armour.”
He didn’t respond.
You left the fire behind to go curl up with Pytho. No fire could compare to his warm scales, of that you were certain.
A happy rumble escaped him and ran through you as you leaned against him.
He spoke in hushed tones, face right in front of yours as his tail curled around you. “I can’t believe you came back.”
“I shouldn’t have,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his snout. “But I think I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”
His head leaned into your touch immediately, a wistful look in his eyes.
“I wish I could do that.”
“What, kiss me?” you asked with a laugh. “Well, how do dragons kiss?”
Without another word he licked a long stripe up the side of your face, leaving a sticky residue behind.
You giggled as you felt his spit on your cheek. “Well, my way is definitely less messy.”
He let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr, resting his head in your lap. “I like it your way.”
You hummed quietly and you wished he could feel it reverberating through his body the way you did for him. You curled happily into warm scales, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of safety, and fell asleep in your new home.
The next morning, you realized you had no idea how to tell if Phillip was awake or not. He could have escaped and left only his empty armour behind and it would be impossible to tell.
What you did know was that he hadn’t eaten.
Pytho still had some slightly stale bread from your last stay here and you’d brought in all of Phillip’s supplies. You grabbed some dried meat and the freshest of the bread that you could find, heading over to him.
“Good morning,” you said, hoping he could hear you.
He shifted, just barely, to turn to you. It seemed like the most positive reaction you could hope for.
“Okay, you need to eat. Here, just let me.” You went to lift his helm but paused as he flinched away from your hand.
“Please don’t.” His voice was low and shaky.
You backed off, keeping your hands up and away from him. “Okay,” you said, “But you do need to eat.”
There wasn’t any other way to do it. You reached behind him, pressed close to him as you untied his hands. As you struggled with the knots, you felt his breath hitch in his chest.
After a few moments, you pulled away from the newly freed knight, rope in hand. “Tada.”
He froze once more, something you were getting used to, and just stared down at the rope for a minute, flexing his hands by his sides.
With no warning, he grabbed the food you’d gathered for him and stood on shaky legs, giving you a small nod before he headed out toward the mouth of the cave. It was near where the animals were being kept, tied up to some golden pillar near the front. If he wanted to, he could leave here and now.
You waited patiently for him, avoiding looking in his direction, even if you were sure he’d gone far enough that you wouldn’t be able to see him.
He quickly returned, fast enough that he must have scarfed down his food.
He presented his hands to you and it took a second to realize he was waiting to be tied up again.
You scoffed, looking at him dubiously. “Is that really necessary?” It seemed silly to tie him up again after that.
His hands stayed out and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed the rope.
You tied them in front of him this time, taking much less care with the knots as you did.
“Where are you a knight of?” you asked as you pulled the knot taut. “I see no insignias anywhere on you. That doesn’t seem normal.”
“My kingdom is long gone, m’lady.”
“Still so respectful, even after everything I’ve put you through. Well, sir knight, how can you be a knight with no kingdom to serve?”
His head cocked to the side as if baffled by the question. “I know nothing else.”
You paused a moment before asking. “How long have you been doing this?”
He remained ever impossible to read, although that never stopped you from trying. After a long, stoic pause, he simply shrugged and said, “I’ve lost track of the years.”
“And so what? No kingdom to speak of, you just keep fighting?”
“I do what I’ve always done.” Like it was as simple as that.
“Don’t you get tired?”
“I never have the time.”
“Well, sir knight, I think you were just about due for some rest anyways.”
He didn’t respond, the helmet following you as you left him.
He was so stoic. You weren’t sure how it was easier to get a read on a dragon than a man but somehow he’d managed it.
Anything other than silent staring began to feel out of place.
“M’lady,” Phillip called out. You turned, confused. It wasn’t like him to start a conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Where is my sword?” he asked.
You’d forgotten he was unconscious for that. “Oh. I threw it off the mountain.”
“You what? Why?”
Pytho chimed in immediately. “I can get it.”
You shifted between him and the entrance to the cave as quickly as you could. “No, you will not.”
“Why?” asked Phillip.
“What do you mean why? You tried to kill him.”
“I won’t attack him unprovoked.”
“You already did attack him unprovoked.”
“I didn’t have all the information. For that, I am truly sorry, sir.”
Pytho’s chest puffed up at the title. “You are forgiven. And I am sorry that I almost destroyed you.”
That caused Phillip to reel back a little. “You did not. I can best a dragon easily, I almost slit your throat.”
Pytho huffed and you smelled a bit of smoke on his breath. “You did not.”
“Okay,” you said, cutting in. “You’re both very dangerous. I’d still love it if we could keep the sword where it is.”
Phillip nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”
He said it tied up on the floor. Despite not having a weapon, despite his promise not to try and hurt Pytho, despite the fact that you'd already untied him so he could eat.
“This is stupid,” you said, pacing up to him and immediately setting to work on the knots and ignoring his quiet noises in protest.
It didn’t take long to undo them, you’d put barely any effort into tying them in the first place.
“We have to free you so you can eat anyway, I don’t understand your obsession with this little performance.”
Phillip froze, still holding his hands together despite the lack of rope.
“What should I do?” he asked you quietly.
You threw the rope to the side. “That’s up to you.”
It took him hours before he was even willing to stand from his spot on the floor.
His movements were all colored by hesitation. You understood. The freedom made staying a choice. And even when he managed to stand, to move from his corner, he stayed.
He stuck to his corner as often as he could, but nonetheless, he stayed. Watching him sleep alone in the cold, you were certain that this was how Pytho had felt every night when you froze your ass off far away from him.
You both lit the fire for him every night. Pytho has started running off to get wood without you even asking, even if the trees that remained outside left you with enough wood to last years.
His armour got lighter as time passed, forgoing pieces from time to time. No matter what, the helmet stayed. It felt like a part of him, like you could imagine there possibly being a man under there.
He was adjusting to the newfound freedom about as well as you’d expected.
With every small sign of growing comfort, something else went wrong.
A few days after his freeing, while Pytho was out gathering more food for the two of you to eat, you heard him muttering in the corner.
You drifted closer and he paid you no mind. You couldn’t make out any words but you could tell it was frantic.
“Phillip,” you said softly, doing your best not to startle him. “Are you alright?”
You had no idea if you’d frightened him, he remained entirely unreadable. All except for his hands. He had foregone his gloves and much of the armour on his arms and you watched as he nervously fidgeted, threatening his fingers together, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, his hands never staying still for more than a moment.
“I’m wasting time here,” he said. “I have things to do. I have a duty to this land.”
You knew it was near impossible to get through to him but you couldn’t help the urge to try. “It’s a waste to rest?”
“It is. I need to go, need to continue on.”
You sat beside him, as close as you could get without touching. “You should take me back home on your way. I’ve got a duty too, you know.”
His head fell back. Metal against stone sent a clanging noise echoing across the walls. “That’s different. You were brainwashed.”
“I wasn’t. The monsters are real you know. I’ve seen them. We all do, every year. I really would have been saving them. Whatever girl they chose instead of me really did save them. Maybe you don’t think it’s right. That’s fine. It’s an important duty nonetheless.”
“It’s not the same. I’m not being marched to my death.”
“People will still need saving in a week, in a year, in a century. There’s no real, final end to it. There has to be ends to it for you. Little ones. There just has to be.”
His head was turned towards you and you squirmed, feeling like you were being studied.
Finally, he said, “It upsets you.”
“What?”
“That I never stop. That upsets you?”
You nodded. “It does.”
“I can stand tiny ends to it. To ease your mind.”
A sad laugh escaped you. “I’d rather you did it for you.”
“That’s the best I can do right now. You’re the same, aren’t you?”
And you supposed you were. “I can’t go back. I can’t do that to him. Or to you, I guess.”
A small laugh escaped him, a noise you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. “You guess. I’ll take it.”
Pytho returned, entering the cave a little too quickly and knocking one of his piles of treasure over. He dropped a cart in front of you, this one with boxes of pastries covering it.
“The humans seemed to love this one,” he said with his disarming, open-mouthed grin.
“Who are you taking those from?” Phillip asked incredulously, and you were almost certain you could hear a smile in his voice.
You grabbed something that looked chocolatey and when you felt that it was still warm you almost sobbed. “I don’t care who he’s taking it from,” you said, taking a massive bite of it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
You scarfed down three pastries, offering a small piece to Pytho, just so he could taste it. He spat it back out, questioning how you could ever eat something like that.
And then you remembered your stoic knight, still sitting beside you, just watching you eat, and a sense of guilt overtook you.
“I’m sorry,” you said and he perked up as you addressed him. “You know, I could turn around or we could close our eyes. We wouldn’t have to see anything. So we could eat together.”
You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for him to politely refuse, instead turning around and signaling for Pytho to do the same. You shut your eyes, just for good measure, as you leaned against the dragon.
The quiet thud of the helmet being set on the floor made your heart swell.
As you took another bite of a pastry, this one filled with a beautiful lemon cream, he slid his hand into your open one and ate behind you, slower than he’d ever eaten before.
Even if it was for you, you hoped he enjoyed it.
And still, no matter how much progress you made, every night he still slept in that goddamn corner.
You were glad Pytho curled up around you at night because then at least you couldn't see him, sad and alone next to his fire, away from the two of you.
You knew Pytho could tell it bothered you. He always did his best to distract you, pull all of your attention to him. He’d gotten pretty good at it.
He was nuzzling into your side, pulling giggles from you as he gave you a big, slobbery kiss on your face.
“What are dragon kisses for?” you asked.
“What?”
“I’m just curious. Humans kiss their kids, their partners, their parents, all sorts of people they love. Dragon kisses don’t feel like something you can do as casually as a kiss on the cheek.”
Pytho perked up immediately. “You love me?”
You pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Of course I do.”
He purred at you as he answered your question. “Well, dragon kisses are just for mates. We aren’t an overly affectionate species.”
“Could’ve fooled me. You know, maybe you can’t kiss like a human but I could kiss like a dragon.”
He tilted his head and you decided to take the gesture as a challenge.
You opened your mouth and licked a broad stripe up the side of his face. His scales tasted ashy and were incredibly smooth against your tongue.
A wave of heat passed through him as you did, a deep guttural sound escaping him.
You pulled back, trying to get a better look at him.
“What was that?” you asked quietly.
He ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide from you. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
Something clicked in your head. “Hold on. You said dragons only kiss their mates.”
He nodded hesitantly.
“You kiss me all the time though.”
He whined again, his tail moving away from you and curling in front of him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s strange, I know you’re human, I can't help it. You're so soft and nice and I love you so much…”
As his words got more frantic you kissed his snout again, shushing him. “You should’ve told me. If I’d known my big, strong dragon wanted me maybe I could’ve done something about it sooner.”
You practically watched his eyes glaze over, head tucking into your chest as he purred more.
You gave him all the kisses you could, peppering them along his head wherever you could reach. After about a dozen, you decided to try another dragon one, licking along his jaw.
You were flipped and pinned under him in a second, looking up at a ravenous face. His wings were folded over the two of you, blocking you from the outside world. In here, it was just the two of you.
You couldn’t be happier.
“Please, let me see you,” he hissed and you struggled to get your clothes off as quickly as you could. You kicked your pants off and they got caught on your ankles, spurring on a minor giggling fit, feeling absolutely giddy.
And he just watched, perfectly content to stare down at you as you waged a minor battle against your clothes, desperate to get your bare skin against his.
As you lay below him, finally fully naked, you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. It felt right, the two of you, like this.
“I will never understand clothes,” he informed you. “Why would you ever cover this up?”
His head shifted around, looking at every part of you he’d never gotten to see before.
As his head moved downwards, you could tell exactly when he noticed how wet you were. He stopped moving entirely, nostrils flaring and eyes locked on you.
He nosed at you and you opened your legs for him, spreading them as wide as they could go.
His tongue snaked out instantly, licking a hot stripe through your folds. Whatever he found there seemed to interest him because the next thing you knew his thick tongue was snaking deep inside of you, your walls stretching around him.
You let out a strangled cry, fighting to not snap your legs closed at how overwhelming the sensation was.
His content vibrations ran through you, causing a spark of pleasure to run up your spine.
His tongue found a spot deep inside of you that’d didn’t quite feel like the rest, rubbing against it experimentally and you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream.
It was too much. You’d never felt anything like this before.
His jaw was cracked open over your stomach, his impossibly long tongue reaching as far into you as it could go.
His tongue slowly withdrew from you and you didn’t know whether to beg for him to keep going or take your reprieve from the overwhelming sensation while you could.
You noticed his hips shifting and glanced down. Your heart skipped a beat.
He was massive, probably a foot long.
“That’s not going to fit,” you whispered.
The dragon shook his head. “No, I would never try. You’re too small, it would break you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“What about you?” you asked, feeling bad you couldn’t reciprocate.
“I have everything I need,” he said, nuzzling into your chest once more. “But if you want someone your size, we could always ask for help.”
Your face heated as you realized what he was implying. To be honest, you’d entirely forgotten Phillip was there, too caught up in what you were doing. Oh god, he’d probably heard everything.
Pytho lifted his wings as you looked at Phillip, who had turned to face the wall.
“I am so sorry,” you called out, embarrassment washing over you.
He turned to you slowly and you prepared to get yelled at.
Instead, his voice came out breathy and strained. “Do you want me to help?”
Your heart skipped a beat as you stared back at him. “I do.
He moved towards the pair of you. “I live to serve”
You wanted to kiss him. You wanted so badly to kiss him and you just couldn’t.
So instead you made do, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He fell next to you, both of you leaning against Pytho.
He froze a little as your hands neared his helmet and you whispered, “Trust me.”
He untensed, although you could sense his anxiety.
You grasped the side of his helmet slowly, tilting it gently to the side to reveal a sliver of his neck. You moved towards it, taking all the self-control you had to go slowly.
He shivered as you neared him, your breath ghosting over his skin.
You started gently, pressing soft kisses into his skin.
Before long you wanted more, nipping at his neck and sucking marks into it as he let out little whines. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed, could feel his muscles tense as you moved.
Eventually, he pulled you away from him and you looked up at him, wide-eyed.
“Um…” he said, his voice shaky and high. “If you do want me to… to help. You need to stop doing that.
You smiled, resting your forehead on his helm. “If you insist.”
The way you’d pulled at his clothes, shifting his shirt out of the way, meant you could see as he gulped.
His hand hovered inches over your hip, as if afraid to touch you. You covered it with your own, pressing it onto bare skin.
You didn’t mind his staring so much now. You could feel the waves of awe coming off of him as his hands gently slid up and down your sides.
You hooked your fingers into the front of his pants and pulled him closer to you.
“Please,” you asked.
He didn’t bother taking his pants off, instead pulling them down just enough to get his dick out, already painfully hard.
Pytho’s tongue had more than prepared you and Phillip seemed like if someone breathed on him wrong he might come so you wasted no time, pulling him over to you.
Pytho sat there, watching as Phillip pushed inside of you. He was painfully slow, groaning with every inch.
Your walls fluttered as his hand pressed tentatively down on your clit and he had to stop entirely, breathing slowly.
“Do you know how hard it was,” he gasped out as he buried himself fully inside of you, unmoving. “Hearing all that and not touching myself. It felt like torture.
You could feel Pytho shifting behind you, molding himself against your back as you saw his hips twitch, grinding against nothing.
You opened your mouth to speak when your words were cut off with a sharp thrust.
Phillip gripped your hips so hard you were worried it might bruise in the morning. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.
He slowly found his rhythm, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer as he thrusted inside of you.
You felt something hard against your back, moving as Phillip slammed inside of you again. And then, as if sharing one mind, you felt a sticky substance coat your back just as Phillip gave you one final, hard thrust, groaning as he came inside of you.
As soon as Phillip pulled out, Pytho rushed to snake his tongue back inside of you. It was so dexterous, pressing up perfectly inside of you as he tasted both you and Phillip.
Phillips fingers intertwined with yours as your back arched and you felt waves of pleasure run through you. Pytho seemed intent on working you through it, his tongue moving steadily until you could take it anymore.
You pushed at his head and he lifted it, mouth slick and eyes looking just as dazed as you felt.
You were all gross and sticky and you’d never been happier in your life.
Phillip snorted. “I was supposed to kill you.”
“Plans change,” you said.
“You never could have killed me,” Pytho declared and you couldn’t help but smile as their argument began again.
You woke up in a tangle of limbs. Your head was tucked into Phillip's chest, his arms wrapped around you with just the tip of Pytho’s tail betwixt you. You were both entirely surrounded by him, curled up protectively around you.
Pytho had to take both of you down to the nearest lake to get clean the next morning. He sat patiently at the edge of the pond as both of you washed off the mess from the night before.
Phillip helped you clean, scrubbing your back and running his fingers gently through your hair as you both stood in the waist-deep water.
You’d had the good sense to remove your clothes but Phillip had to clean his along with himself, standing in the water in his pants, shirt, and that helmet.
It seemed a little silly but you wouldn’t bother him over it. It would come in due time. Or maybe it wouldn’t and honestly, you didn’t think you would mind.
Pytho was content watching the two of you, occasionally shifting his tail to splash water at you, a favor you returned to him readily.
As the cleaning finished and the three of you sat on the shore, drying off, Phillip braided your hair as you both leaned against your warm dragon.
You were curious where he’d learned it but scared to ask, to remind him of anything other than this perfect moment.
He did not seem to understand how precious and fragile this moment was, breaking the silence by saying, “I can’t stay here,” and shattering everything.
You looked at him with panicked eyes and Pytho hid his head under his wing.
“What?”
His next words came slower, more gently. “I think we’ve made a little home here. I do. But I can’t just stay.”
You nodded. You understood. “Neither can I. You’re going off adventuring again, right?”
He nodded and you immediately added, before you could lose your nerve. “I want to come.”
“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, his voice not commanding but instead cautious and worried.
“Please. I need to do something, to help someone. I feel like I’ve got a debt on my back. I can’t let it hang over me like this forever.”
He went to protest but you stopped him. “I don’t care what you think, I can’t live with it. Please.”
He nodded. “First, we’re going to need to find my sword.”
You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”
“And we can’t come back every night,” he continued. “You’re going to have to spend days on the road. You sure that’s what you want?”
You rolled your eyes. “I think I can manage for a few days.”
Pytho lifted his head from where he was hiding it. “Come back? You said you can’t stay?”
It took a second to understand what he could possibly be asking. The idea of leaving him forever was so inconceivable to you that you hadn’t realized what this must have looked like.
You rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. “No, I’m not leaving you. Neither of us are. We just…I just can’t stay in a cave for the rest of my life.”
“People will still need helping,” Phillip chimed in, standing behind you. “I won’t ever stop doing this. It’s what I was made to do. But it's been too long. I think it was about time I found a home to come back to.”
You smiled at him as you leaned into your dragon’s side. “I think it was.”
#terato#terato writing#monster x reader#monster x human#monster boyfriend#monster bf#dragon x reader#dragon boyfriend#dragon#dragon bf#The cws on this are wild#Phillip’s armour set up is a little wonky compared to most real armour#I attribute this to his accursed knight status#Definitely not just for narrative ease#I would never#also I came up with this idea and then wrote the whole thing in like 6 days#Everyone say thank you ducky#lol
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Hii i noticed requests are open so i wanted to request a zuko x reader
of zuko and a reader who just loves to be close to him
(like she always has to be around him and when she’s around him she’s always touching him like holding his hand or his arm or something and when she’s not around him she wears a bracelet or something from him)
a/n: as someone whose love language is physical touch i love this prompt! i thought this request would work better as hc’s so i hope you don’t mind :)
okay, first of all, Zuko LOVES this about you
you cannot tell me this boy hasn’t been craving touch and affection ever since his mother left
he is starved
so the fact that you always love to be close to him or touching him in some way makes his heart melt
you are basically always glued to his side at all times
it’s rare to find zuko without you clinging to his side, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest
anytime you’re beside him he always offers you his hand to hold or his arm to grab onto
when you rest your head on his shoulder he always makes sure to press a tender kiss to your hair
it’s just a given that any seat beside Zuko is automatically yours
for the times when you can’t be together, he always makes sure to leave a piece of him with you so that you feel comforted in his absence
this ranges from his cloaks to his robes to little gifts he finds for you
you guys have matching bracelets okay i don’t make the rules that’s just how it is
matching bracelets made from lava stone so everyone else knows that you’re both part of a matching set
he keeps a portrait of you in his room and you keep one of him
ofc his favorite thing is coming home to you after a long day of being Fire lord and immediately letting you envelop him in your comforting embrace
zuko is a cuddler okay that’s a fact
he is so receptive to your touch and your closeness
a match made in heaven for sure
| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
#zuko#zuko x reader#zuko imagine#prince zuko#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko imagine#zuko headcanon#atla#atla x reader#atla imagine#avatar the last airbender#request#melzula writes
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