#the outlander x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiny-jr · 8 months

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outlander

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia.

Summary: In every land you travel to, there's a god with elemental powers. But why is it that in every nation you arrive to, the gods attempt to make you stay?

Note: Why has no one done a genshin x twst thing? This is more of a concept idea than anything else. I might do a series with it, or not, or just random posts. Feel free to ask about it or request stuff for it.

This must be a dream, either that or a never-ending nightmare.

Waking up alone on a sandy beach, as if washed ashore, was disorientating. There was nothing else on the shore save for shells and the occasional crab, no debris indicating a wreck and no scattered belongings. All you had on you were the clothes on your back, which were a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, your pajamas.

In the center of your palms, was a marking you had never seen before, like a freshly painted tattoo in the shape of a tiny key. As curious as the strange new markings were and you wondered how they even got there, there was a larger question looming:

How did you get here?

GRIM

There was a cat on the beach. At least, it looked like a cat. A talking feline, with gray fur and the most impossible feature of blue fire lightly simmering in his ears.

It spoke, just like a human, with a grating high-pitched voice. It was a devilish little beast, with little fangs sharper than his comebacks that he supposed were funny.

The feline pridefully announced his name: Grim.

And when you told Grim your story of how you woke up by the water's edge with no recollection of how you got here and little to your name, the creature didn't appear to care. However, when he spoke of elements being used by people and names of nations and cruel living gods you never once heard of, only then was he very vaguely intrigued. Perhaps it was amusement, as he laughed and called you stupid for not even knowing of The Seven.

That's when you heard a growl, not from behind his fangs but from his stomach. If you looked at him from the right angle, he looked quite scrawny. The poor thing was hungry, you realized.

All it took was an offering of cans of tuna found in an empty cabin nearby, and you had him in your grasp. Following you around was only temporary, he insisted, he'd go along so long as there was food. While a talking cat was not the most conventional of guides, it was better than nothing, especially since he knew basic knowledge of each nation and where the nearest sign of civilization was located.

HEARTSLABYUL

Through the winding dark woods where mysterious creatures lurked in hollow trees and dead end paths, were meadows of flowers and peaceful grooves. However, don't let the tranquillity of nature fool you. In the distance were mountains– not actually mountains, but volcanoes and hot sprints along this land's border.

It's been said that the very millions of roses and other greenery in this land, was formed when ash rained down on dry barren earth for nearly a month. Ash from those very dormant volcanoes that were the backdrop to this perfect scenery, which came in huge black clouds thousands of years ago and blanketed the earth.

A god, an archon, the deity of law that rained hell on earth over thousands of years ago.

Long ago this land was a country of criminals ruled by a god of chaos that reveled in havoc and disorder. Among the mayhem, was a small deity of fire with mighty powers and a vision for a future he was determined to see. Riddle, is what the deity was called.

Riddle gained a number of followers to listen to his words, and he created order. A small feat compared to the many wicked still running about in a lawless land ruled by a god that valued anarchy. So, using newfound strength, the deity of fire drew forth molten lava from the mouths of the northern volcanos, burning all those in its path while the deadly plumes of smoke and ash suffocated those that remained. Atop the remains of the destroyed towns and cities, he built a new nation of order for his loyal followers.

Today, it is a thriving nation filled with flowers and greenery. However, there is one issue. The god of pyro, Riddle, is a tyrant. Every law is expected to be followed without question and without fail, beheadings have become nearly a daily occurrence with the criminals often being charged with mistakingly picking flowers on Wednesdays, drinking the wrong sort of tea post-meals, or playing croquet after five pm.

You were fortunate to be spared after your audience with the god of law, for breaking the rule: one must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Before he could burn you were you stood, you interjected, answering that your companion was no cat, so you had broken no rule.

Well, he promptly apologized for the misunderstanding and in turn, offered to make up for it by inviting you to a tea party. It would be best to except his invitation, afterall, he was the same deity that buried nearly an entire country in lava and ash, then built his kingdom atop their remains. He was a tyrant that beheaded and burned people on the daily. It was wise not to get on his bad side. Besides, he appears to have taken a fancy for you. Riddle implores that you tell him more of your world while you ignore the whispers of rebellion.

There is no leaving Heartslabyul, not without the explicit permission from the god of law. The borders with their volcanoes burn any would-be invaders, allowing passage only to merchants and travelers who have received the pyro deity's blessing. Why would Riddle ever give you his blessing to see you go?

SAVANACLAW

Across the volcanoes and hot springs of the borders, the mountains turn green with dense jungles. Across the river lies the savanna where the world's most wondrous creatures run free. Times have been turbulent, the shaking ground was evidence of troubles with this nation's divine beings, or rather, now single divine being.

Earthquakes have always been a sign of something occurring either for a purpose or unintentionally by someone else. The harsher the quake, the greater the importance of the event. And not too long ago, a ginormous tremor shook the entire globe. Something of major importance had happened.

A god, an archon, the deity of intellect was the new sovereign after tragedy befell his elder brother.

In the past the land was under the protection of the god of strength, a mighty god worshipped by his people. This god had a young heir who was also beloved by the people. However, most forgot or completely disliked the younger brother of the god of strength, a deity of ground, Leona, who had a burning hated for his brother.

Leona amassed followers of his own in secret. It came as no surprise that the common and the wealthy adored the exalted god of strength. However, the poor detested him, because he offered no help to them, no matter how much they prayed and offered what little they had to his alter. Instead, their prayers for mercy and for a change in luck, were answered by the deity of ground. The change of luck came from the death of the former god and his son, paving the way for a new sovereign.

Today, there is uncertainty in the street. Many of the former worshippers of the god of strength believe in one thing. The god of geo, Leona, is unfit to rule. The poor and mistreated have emerged from hiding places in the shadows, filled with newfound confidence for their was finally a god that answered their prayers. However, there remains a growing tension between both factions. Followers of the new god sing his praises, while followers who mourn for his brother believe that everything is falling into disarray.

You were promptly introduced to the god of intellect by his followers that wished to spread the good word. There was something wrong, you and your companion both agreed. How could a powerful god of strength and his young heir just perish without warning? Something was amiss.

This was just a new follower, at least in his eyes. So he brushed you off, allowing you to partake in the best food and drink only his followers had the privilege of receiving. Testing your luck, you decided you would ask him if he knew of a way home. For now you filled him in, explaining your origins and recent adventures. For such a conniving and arrogant leader, he was surprisingly lax. It even appeared as if he wasn't even listening to your words, just dozing off on some pillows. Your words were at least more interesting to him than the rumors of possible unrest.

Perhaps he does know a way for you to return home, but he doesn't want to tell you. It's as simple as that. He likes the new follower, you. Besides, you're not going. There is always the option of traveling further, but why do so when the geo deity has what you need? Leona greatly loathes betrayal from his own worshippers, so you wouldn't leave Savanaclaw to see another god, would you?

OCTAVINELLE

In the seas dwell creatures of unimaginable horrors living deep within the watery depths, across the ocean over turbulent waves there are islands of paradise. The chain of islands composed warm southern beaches and cold northern snowlands. This may be paradise, but a toll must be paid to even get near the islands.

A tax is applied to all arriving merchants wishing to trade and tourists wishing to step foot on the island. It doesn't make much sense, until you see their towns and cities bursting with trade. Business was booming, apparently. The water is clear and pristine, you could see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of fish swimming below.

A god, an archon, the deity of contracts once came from these very waters when there was no land.

Thousands of years ago there was nothing but ocean out this far away from the mainland. That is, until a deity of water appeared from the depths. He promised a new nation to traveling merchants, so long as they worshipped him. The deity introduced himself as Azul.

Azul had grown bored of the dull happenings under the sea, for he had achieved most things beneath the waves. The ocean could not satisfy his endless greed. He had his sights set on higher elevation, with the lofty goal of being just as powerful on land as he was in the ocean. He moved waves, creating tsunamis outward but revealing islands once hidden by water. The merchants took to land and fulfilled their end of the deal, worshipping him while creating a prosperous nation of deals.

In present day, hardly anyplace can compare to the thriving hub the nation has become. However, loyal followers have begun to see his greed. The god of hydro, Azul, is a charlatan. The ocean in all its vastness was not enough to satisfy his desires, it was why he took to land. For the promise of fulfilling prayers, something always must be given in turn or the worshippers must risk going on a quest. But, it is not always as it seems. One way or another, a prayer asking for something will end in the worshipper becoming in debt to him.

In exchange for an answer to the continued question of how to return home, you have nothing to offer for payment except for ideas. Home was modern, this world was not yet on par with the technology you knew. So you offer ideas of inventions, a device to capture an image in time, a mechanism like a box with wheels, a tool to contact someone miles away.

He believes you're quite bright, you think it false flattery to deceive you but you would be wrong. Your ideas are truly brilliant, and will no doubt earn him more millions and influence in other nations on the mainland! Best to take the compliment with a smile, or else this swindler may find a way to trap you in debt. Azul insists you tell him more of your home and your lucrative ideas. Here, a contract, where he shall sell your ideas as goods and you shall reap the rewards! Whatever hearsay you've heard painting him in a bad light, is defamation! Don't fall for it so easily.

Sailing away from Octavinelle would just be a fool's quest. Unless you can escape on a boat that can weather the harshest of sea storms, there is no stepping foot off the island without the risk of drowning. Don't you have more profitable ideas to share with the hydro deity? If not, just listening to your voice would make Azul content than all the gold in the world could.

SCARABIA

Rolling sand dunes stretch as far as the eye could see, and rocky canyons border a savanna. Sandstorms fill the skies like a dark cloud, covering the dry hot land in a new layer of sand once again. Struggle through the scorching days and blistering cold nights, and there will be an oasis in the center between large flowing rivers.

Life follows the flowing waters, and an enormous oasis is planted in the center of the desert. For miles and miles along the banks, are blooming cities and towns. A great contrast to the desert outside, these settlements are overflowing with water, with the greenest gardens and greatest crops.

A god, an archon, the deity of commerce that gave life to a once barren land.

Thousands of years ago, a terrible famine struck the land. All remaining oasis had shriveled up, leading to starvation. A kind-hearted deity of earth took pity on the people. So he decided to extend a helping hand. People would call the deity Kalim.

Kalim used his abilities to create a lush environment, a vast and incredibly rich oasis out of sand in the middle of the desert. When he walked, grass and flowers sprouted from the sand. In days, he managed to create a garden of tremendous size and design, where his new followers could live in peace and luxury by the rivers. Towns and cities were developed, giving way to a grand nation where he resided in comfort and extravagance, surrounded by people that adored him.

Now there is a grand metropolis where there is just as much gold in the markets as there are flowers. The god of dendro, Kalim, is naive. For thousands of years he has been sheltered and treasured by his people. He is oblivious and clumsy, but at the same time he is not foolish. He knows of the people that have attempted to use his abilities for sinister purposes. Although, no one could guess a conniving being plotting against him, resides in his very own palace.

Exciting adventures and thrilling tales, the god of commerce loves to hear your stories of the outside world! First time foreigners are welcomed with open arms, but you are treated as a rare guest with your unique origin. This might just be the most peaceful land you had ever traveled to.

Come, partake in the celebrations! It's easy to forget that such a laidback and cheerful personality belongs to that of a deity that gave life to this region of the desert. Dance, chat, he wishes to do it all with you! The brightness of the fireworks and lively atmosphere is nearly enough to drown out the presence in the shadows you see from the corner of your eyes. A figure with a piercing gaze, watching the jolly divine being with envy in their eyes. With a power as tempting as his, there would be those wishing to snatch it. Kalim distracts you, offering more food and drink with a smile sweeter than any flower.

Why would anyone ever wish to leave this garden that was Scarabia? The outside, the desert and canyons, were harsh and unforgiving. The god of commerce did not wish to see you risk traveling and getting hurt. The dendro deity invites you to stay in the city! Surely you could be happy here with Kalim, right?

POMEFIORE

On elevated lands, between mountains and hills, were endless forests in which travelers often vanished in or were discovered frozen. A winter wonderland, although this wasn't so delightful. It was beautiful, but a deadly kind of beautiful, where you risked being chased by mysterious beasts or becoming lost in blizzards.

The snow may be pure, it may look picturesque upon frozen lakes and lines of white trees, but looks are deceiving. This was once a serene land with a temperate climate, but it has only gotten colder and colder in more recent months until there was not a single spot of green to be seen.

A god, an archon, the deity of curses who was so bitter like the cold that he caused snow to fall all year round.

Stories have told that the land was once warm in springs and summers, only growing cold whenever the divine being was cross. They were frighteningly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful, regal as royalty but at times wrathful. Vil, is what the deity was referred to.

Vil became envious of an emerging figure, so he invoked powerful blizzards and storms. In recent generations, there have been a growing number of his people breaking off into a separate faction that worshipped a younger compassionate god of healing. Enraged by the betrayal of some followers and resentful with biting jealously, many knew that it was only a matter of time before he would snap. This frightening divine being would not accept being dethroned, he would not allow himself to be demoted in the people's hearts.

Civilization continued to thrive, even despite the never-ending snow. And yet, people cannot help but worry what may happen if the cold doesn't let up by spring. The god of cryo, Vil, was pretentious. Anyone who openly voices their distaste for him or a preference for the god of healing, can expect to be encased in ice and used as a display. No one dares to even utter the name of his rival, for fear of incurring his wrath.

Misfortune brought you before the god of curses' throne. Mistakingly his followers had believed you to be worshippers of the god of healing, which you insisted not to know of. You had simply been lost. Maybe it was your gawking at his ethereal appearance, or the compliment you murmured under your breath, but you were not frozen a punishment.

He decided to interrogate you himself, and through his stern questioning you found yourself a nervous mess as you answered honestly but blabbered far too much. Maybe this deity was amused, much like a king would find humor in a pathetic little jester. The divinity that froze nonbelievers into statues for his palace, found you quite endearing. Vil even once smiled at you when you spoke of inconsequential things, warming his heart to which the clouds carrying snow broke apart if for a moment, causing his followers to go into a frenzy fueled by hope.

When leaving Pomefiore is so much as even mentioned, all exits will be frozen shut by the god of curses. Why even venture outside the palace, when you have earned the favor of the cryo deity? Perhaps the land is warmer, but the neighboring nation is dangerous and he forbids the journey. Why would anyone leave after finally melting Vil's icy cold heart?

IGNIHYDE

A forest of dead trees serves as an ominous welcome, or perhaps it was an omen warning incoming travelers. Slopes gave way to valleys, and along the coasts was a heavy mist that painted the vision gray. Homes and buildings, magnificent temples and crumbling feats of architecture, appeared to be floating in white clouds, but in reality they were situated on cliffsides thick with fog.

In the center of the dying forest, there are ruins of a grand temple once belonging to a god that met a tragic end. However, its remnants are closely guarded by mysterious creatures of air that cannot be touched. Legends say the temple was once a place of worship for a fledgling god related to the main god the nation worships today.

A god, an archon, the deity of innovation that has never once shown his face to the public.

Thousands of years ago, a pair of divine beings appeared. They went largely unnoticed for many years, until their brilliant inventions brought awe to those around them, attracting worshippers and diminishing the power of other local gods. The one remaining brother from this pair, is a deity known as Idia.

Idia created wondrous inventions, unintentionally forming a nation of inventors in the process. Withdrawn, dark, and silent, he is quite the unconventional god and yet he begrudgingly rules nonetheless. As reserved as he may be, he is feared among divinity. All lesser gods aiming for his spot are quickly wiped out by his inventions, without him so much as lifting a finger and using his own abilities. They're reduced to mere memories, as nothing is left of them. In times of old, it was once believed that he was a harbinger of death.

On decent days, the sun may shine on the coast, but most days there are heavy clouds and fog. The god of anemo, Idia, is an enigma. Most think him a ghost, for never appearing and for his abilities. The highest families, the most brilliant inventors, even other divine beings may request an audience, but he will never show. No one has ever seen him, all that's known is he is a figure shrouded in black robes like a grim reaper. There are others who believe there are double, because two figures have been spotted once.

You become the first to see his face purely by accident. It seemed he was just as startled of you, as you were of him. Thankfully, you were not going to be blown off the face of the planet by hurricane-level winds. No other god would help, in fact, they wished to keep you here. So you had to turn to him for assistance in finding a way home.

It was only by promising that he could pet Grim, a deal to which the feline disagreed to, did the god reluctantly hear you out. After your explanation, he scoffed as if looking at a simple equation like 2 + 2. Of course he knew the answer, but he wouldn't give out the assistance you needed. The deal was to hear you out, not help you out. He'd become quite bold in the private conversation, a sharp contrast to his previous anxious demeanor. There was no arguing against he who could slaughter gods with a snap of his fingers. Although you aren't as intolerable as other mortals, this he admits.

Departing from Ignihyde is highly unlikely, given how dense the fog is. You cannot even see the ground you're walking on. While, yes, the anemo deity hasn't assisted you, he will, eventually, probably, maybe... You're the first mortal Idia has ever asked to stay, so why would you turn your back to him?

DIASOMNIA

A wall of impenetrable thorns stands in the way, magically opening and creating a clear-cut path through dense forbidding forests lively with critters. The thorn walls close, effectively trapping you. There was something different. It was unlike all the previous nations, the very air itself felt off. With every step deeper into these whimsical woods, it felt as if you were not alone.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon. No one knows how long the dragon has been alive, only that even the oldest tales say he was already ancient way back when. Valleys were shaped by his claws, the rivers from his tail, rare ore came from his fallen scales buried in the earth, the tallest mountains were but small hills to him.

A god, an archon, the deity of dreams is by far the most powerful and most ancient of all divinity in the world.

Peace was his personal preference, as he enjoyed new company which he never truly received due to his fearsome reputation. However, when other divinity sought out his destruction and his home, the deity of electricity raged. Destruction was left in his wake across the entire globe, and everyone came to know the name Malleus.

Malleus commanded thorns to be raised like walls protecting his home, and constant violent storms to ward off anyone threatening to cause trouble. For hundreds of years, no foreigner was allowed to step foot within the nation's boundaries. Anyone that tried would quickly be reduced to ash, and just a number added to the untold amount he's slayed in order to protect himself and his territory. Kind he may be to his own, but to foes he is merciless. With his black horns and piercing eyes, some refer to him as a devil incarnate.

A land unseen by outlanders, it's peaceful and magical in it's beauty. However, it seems that while your presence may be surprising, it is not a shock. You're taken by knights in gray and black, escorted away. The god of electro, Malleus, has invited you to his castle. There is astonishment and disbelief in people's eyes, a foreigner alive and well. Most like you would have been reduced to particles before they could even step foot past the thorns.

Much to your horror, or relief, once you're brought to the god of dreams, he seems delighted to have you here. It seems your presence was expected, as all he said was, "So you've finally come to see me, hm? I was beginning to grow concerned that perhaps I would have been left out of your list of destinations."

This was the last option, the only one you could turn to in finding a way home. Surely, the most ancient and powerful deity would hold the answer and assist you, since he had been so kind as to allow you inside his nation. Although as welcoming as he may be, you must remember that despite his fang-toothed smile and the twinkle in his eyes, this man– no, god, was archaic and all-powerful. He must have killed more people than you will ever know, wiped out whole armies and flattened entire nations. Malleus tilts his head at you, requesting that you recount your tale, with every minute detail.

This will be the end, there will be no escaping Diasomnia. Of course, you shall not know until later. For now, the god of dreams delights in your stories. You were the first guest he's had in thousands of years, and one of the few who did not wish to slay the legendary dragon that was the electro deity. Malleus knows what you desire, he has seen it in your dreams. However, he will not be kind and grant you what you sought. If he did, then what he desired would then vanish: you.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 10 months

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Being in a relationship with Enki Ankarian...

Being born with the Enlightened Soul, Enki was cursed and blessed with a restless need to constantly seek for new knowledge and secrets hidden away from the massive community of common folk. Such a trait had started manifesting within him at a very young age, as he was chosen to become a Dark Priest upon his and his twin sister’s birth.

Despite their rather close relationship, they were pitted against each other, typical to such occult rites, and had to fight to death with ritual daggers. Unfortunately for him, Enki was born with a frail body, that only remained fragile due to his extensive overindulging in studying, and lack of going outside or doing any kind of physical activities - Thus, his sister easily overpowered him, her dagger on his neck, waiting for the final blow.

She, however, showed mercy that he was incapable of, and withdrew her dagger, stepping away, as the high priest masters glared gleefully at the ridiculously pitiful event unfolding before their very eyes.

Unable to accept defeat, Enki rose from the ground, as soon as his sister’s back was carelessly turned to him, and he stroke his dagger to her spine, watching with cold, empty eyes as she collapsed to the ground. The high priests seemed especially pleased with this and prepared for his ascension ceremony, where he resurrected his deceased sister into a ghoul, using the newly acquired skill of Necromancy.

The cold, blank corpse of his sister brought a smile of satisfaction and accomplishment on his otherwise emotionless, pale face.

After his ascension to Dark Priesthood, he left the temple grounds to learn occult on his own, in a dark pilgrimage. He began praying to Gro-Goroth as he began dedicating his studies to the knowledge of Old-Gods.

Enki travelled across the Western continent, learning about different Gods, deities, blood magic and all known sciences. His studies didn’t come without their merit, as he was rightfully acknowledged by the top scholars of modern times, being granted a pass to the great libraries of the Kingdom of Rondon, having the collection of all known history and science at his grasp.

During his intensive research, drowning in a copious amount of piles of books and paintings, swimming in an endless ocean of knowledge, when suddenly, he felt compelled to raise his head, for a single split second - But that was enough to feast his eyes on the radiant presence of a woman that seemed to glow with such an aura that was unfamiliar to Enki.

For some reason, this human made Enki want to approach her, to delight himself with that Sun-like warmth and gentleness, and never let go. His brain had gone hay-wire for that exact single second, and he imagined her Ascension, defeating even Alll-mer in influence and radiance, for she would be worthy of worship far and wide, a single Goddess above them all, be them New or Old alike.

Ha! What a fool he’s been, allowing himself to fall prey to a woman’s charm, as if he is alike any of those petty mundane wretches, much beneath them. Surely, there was nothing that she had, except for a pretty face, and long soft locks, and a dress so beautiful and embellished with rich ornaments and golden thread embroidery... And there he goes again, losing time with meaningless thoughts!

O, and how he wished she would stop living rent-free inside his head, just so he could return to his endless studying already... Alas, that woman was gracefully sitting on a velvety chair by the dimly lit window, adopting a relaxed yet incredibly elegant pose as she began reading some kind of large, dusty tome, so old that it was almost ripping apart at the seams.

Such negligence - She might her slender, delicate fingers, but surely, there was no way an uneducated idiot like herself would be able to handle such a frail book!

Fuming, he didn’t quite realise he came up with an unlikely scenario, just to have a reason to march up in front of the beauty and speak to her - Surely, if he was to approach her with his usual misanthropy, she would be compelled to hate him and would avoid him at all costs - What a brilliant plan!

“What do you think you’re doing, you brain dead vermin?! Books like this one are supposed to be handled with intensive care!” in his makeshift rage, he tried to look away from that adorably confused face of hers, or those glowing doe eyes, looking up into his dead eyes with such radiant vitality. He grabbed at her hands, and almost shivered lightly at how soft and soft they were, compared to his skeletal-like cold and clammy ones.

“Oh, forgive me, Sir, I meant no harm.” her voice was so princess-like, compared to his gruff voice, rough from lack of speaking, that he almost felt his whole body caressed with honeyed mead. “You see, I often come to these libraries and rehabilitate old tomes like this one. I either sew protective covers over them, or try to re-write them, so that more copies would be available for people to read. There have been numerous cases of books being destroyed or going missing, and there was no way of retrieving the lost knowledge.” that sweet smile applied some colour to his otherwise ghost-white face, and for the first time in his life, Enki felt his heart pounding in his chest, harder than that time when his sister almost killed him.

Slowly, Enki let go of her hands and peered down at the book’s covers - Indeed, the seaming was freshly done, and the gold thread was adequately holding together the hardboiled leather. Even the inscription of the title was masterfully done, so much so that he found no defect to complain about or scold her for. Which meant, he also had no other reason to keep in contact or speak with this woman - So what was he supposed to do?! He had no clue how to react in such a difficult social dilemma.

“I am glad that there are more attentive people like yourself, with a genuinely love for knowledge and books!” she chirped softly, radiating with kindness and warmth. “If there were more people like yourself, it would be so much easier to preserve all this precious fountain of knowledge and allow a wider range of people to access it.” “You’re delusional.” contrary to what he was truly thinking, Enki grumbled under his breath, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a disgusted sneer. “You wouldn’t be the first to call me that!” her giggle seemed as tender as an angel’s embrace. “It’s quite alright though! I just do what I like to do, and if people can benefit from my work, then all the best!” he was speechless, from a variety of reasons. “Are you quite alright, Sir? You seem unusually pale. Are you feeling ill?” at the same time that the beauty reached out her hands to cup his cold face and feel him up, Enki’s eyes widened like a dead fish’s, and he violently retracted away from her touch, as though he was terrified of getting burnt by her Sun-like warmth. Not only that, but the tome from her lap fell to the ground with a thud and a large cloud of dust, which ultimately made them both cough. “I’m fine. Mind your own business, woman.” he grunted in between coughs, crouching down to get the book - Only to feel her hand underneath his own - Was it fate, that such a continuous string of intimate coincidences keep happening? Was he supposed to meet her? Was there truly a red string of destiny wrapped around them both, pulling them together? “Oh, forgive me, Sir.” she smiled softly at him, waiting for him to remove his larger hand from on top of hers. He didn’t, captivated and lost in her eyes. “You may take the book at home for studying, if you’d like. I can guarantee for you. You seem like a man who truly treasures knowledge and books.” “Stop calling me Sir, it’s annoying. Enki Ankarian.” he grumbled, snatching away his hand from over hers, before cradling the tome to his chest, as though it’s his most cherished possession. “It is lovely meeting you, Mr. Ankarian.” the glare she received made her offer a sheepish grin. “Uh... Mr. Enki?” the glare got harsher. “Enki...?” his glare dissipated, replaced once again by a blank stare, and a weird sense of relief and content washed over him. “My name is Y/N. You must be having an Enlightened Soul, right?” Enki rose a questioning eyebrow - Was it truly that evident, even to somehow he just met for the first time? Still, he grunted a positive answer. “No wonder - Then, I have all the more reason to trust you with borrowing books from our library.” Enki couldn’t help but pick up on the odd choice of a possessive pronoun. “Good to know.” he mumbled under his breath. “Whose library is it?” “Loosely speaking, it belongs to the Kingdom of Rondon, but it was my family who founded it, long ago, and we’ve kept taking care of it, having scholars, maesters and priests over, leaving imprints of their knowledge here and what not.” the way she was speaking of her family and the library seemed to make her exceedingly proud and happy. “Do you have a Radiating Soul or what?!” Enki found himself blurting out without as much as any bit of consideration or a normal, social filter. But the woman before him didn’t seem to mind it, nor was she seemingly bothered by it at all. For a delicate damsel like herself, she seemed to be tanking his brashness and rudeness with an impenetrable shield of white light. “Oh, yes, you are correct! As expected of someone bright like yourself!” she seemed to be bubbling over with glee. No wonder he was immediately attracted to her, from the second she entered the room. People like her were born to have tons of people flocking around her like moths to the flame. How annoying.

Enki couldn’t help but glare at the woman before him, smiling so brightly, as though she’s never even heard of the horrors of the world, let alone experience them; A creature so pure, that the glimmers of hope sparkle all around them. This woman was the perfect opposite of him, so much so that he almost felt afraid of being anywhere near her. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Such a situation went much over the parameters of his abilities and skills.

“Will I see you around tomorrow also?” Enki’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart stopped beating, as soon as he heard that God forsaken question. “I have to return the book, don’t I?” he found himself successfully grunting a satisfactory answer. “Wonderful!” she chimed happily. “Then, it is time for me to return home and bake some cookies!” with his eyes bulging out of his sockets, and his jaw slightly agape, Enki felt his throat dry, wondering - What the hell has he gotten himself into?

From then on, almost on a daily basis, Enki would spent day in and day out at the libraries of Rondon, accompanied by that annoyingly beautiful woman, who captured his dead heart in such a weird way.

You would bring over trays of snacks and cookies she made, along with tea, coffee, with small recipients with milk and honey for sweetening - Of course, you would drink the sweetest beverages, whilst he liked them black and bitter - And he has to admit, everything you made, was out of this world delicious.

His skin even started getting some colour, and his body wasn’t as skeletal-skinny, due to being unconsciously taken care of, to the point that you even invited him over at your rather lavish house, where he’d eventually move in, without much protest.

Years later, he still isn’t quite sure how the hell did he end up moving in so quickly and effortlessly - It all felt incredibly natural, and he didn’t even realise what had happened, until it was too late, and he had slept over in his own dormitory for over a month. It was a comfortable life he was living, with no restrictions about studying, nor the need to work ; Though, in a way, he did feel as though he was taking advantage of your kindness, which irked him enough into thinking of way to compensate you in some way.

Realising there was nothing that he owned, which he could offer you, he proposed to teach you offensive magic. He knew well enough that you were safe and sound in Rondon, and you were well versed in the healing arts to begin with, but there comes no harm in having ways to defend yourself, correct? His sister should have been taught that lesson sooner.

With unexpected patience, Enki would put you closer to him on the sofa, with a book on his lap and an arm around your waist, reading to you whatever he was interested in at that moment, and would explain everything in great detail, making sure you understand everything there is of interest about that said topic.

And when it comes to practicing blood magic of any kind, he will have you practicing, in a safe environment, on wooden dummies. Hell, he was impressed by how easily you picked up on his teachings, that he even muttered out a bit of praise! Wonderous achievement!

Enki finds great comfort in brushing your hair, and would take all the time in the world just playing with those soft locks, even idly braiding it or twisting it around, as a means of relaxing or de-stressing.

At some point, during the hotter times of the year, he would begrudgingly allow you to also braid his hair and style it in a bun - You wear the same hairstyles more often than not - Mostly at home though, where there’s no one else to see.

When he gets frustrated, he would absent-mindedly doodle random runes or symbols all over your hand or arm, before going out into the cold rain to cool himself and start over whatever he project he was working on.

Though he always hisses like a cat, he loves it when you kiss his cheeks or forehead whenever you pass by his study desk. He loves your touch more than he’d like to admit, and he loves the way your plump, soft lips feel against his own, capable of pulling him out of this world - But what he loves more than anything, is how small you feel in his embrace, as you cuddle or hug - There is no words being said, only swimming in the love and bliss, feeling each other’s heartbeat, reveling in each other’s warmth.

When you get intimate, he’ll always stay above you, cradling your head and peppering your face with tons of lingering kisses, going down to your jaw and neck. Every sound you make, every twitch of your body, only drive him crazy. He’ll take his time with you, slow and steady, long strokes, until you see stars before your eyes, and him in the center of your world. If you try to look away as you climax, he’ll lightly tug on your hair, inching your face to make you look at him and only him as you come undone in his arms.

He might not admit to it, and he’ll never ever admit to it, not even to himself, but he loves you as much as he loves studying. On the days you’re going out together, strolling through the busy cobbled streets of Rondon, he will keep his arm around your waist, glaring at anyone who’d dare look at you - And with your Radiant Soul, there were plenty of people attracted to you. No one could get anywhere close to his little angel.

Though he found himself happiest and most comfortable living with you, his studies were never neglected, to the point that he found himself despairing for having nothing more that he can learn - This empty husk, limited to the Earthly, can only get him so far. He had reached the limits of any human can achieve, and all because of his Enlightened Soul, he was unable to find any means of keeping himself under control. He was going crazy, and there was nothing even you could do, even suggesting going traveling abroad, that could calm him down from his insanity.

There was no satisfaction, nor fulfilment that he could get. He allowed the Dark Priests to crucify him on the statue, naked, in the middle of the city, ready to be taken to the other world by Alll-mer. There was no silver lining waiting at the end; The purpose of all humans was to liver under the cold sun that the Gods have set above them all.

Just as the Priests were ready to sacrifice him, Enki saw a vision - He wasn’t sure if it was your desperate visage that gave him new thirst for living, guilty of breaking your heart, or that mysterious thing flashing in the corner of his eyes - Whichever the case, he understood his new purpose, and was ready to start anew, to flip a new chapter in this agonising life.

Once the Priests brought him down, you immediately ran up to him, wrapping him up in a blanket to keep his cold, clammy skin warm. You were ready to bring him home, cook him a warm meal, bring him a hot tea - But he was far too excited about this new prophecy that he was shown, this revelation that foretold a man meant for greatness, who will begin a new era for mankind - Why would he share the spotlight of the Gods with any mortal man, anyway?

Prophecies are only for those who are weak enough to bend to their sorry fates. Enki was hell-bent on finding this man and learning more about him and this so-called destiny of his. As far as he’s aware, this man is imprisoned in the notorious dungeons of Fear and Hunger.

He knew this was it - The stairway to his Enlightenment, and he was dead set on discovering all the ancient secrets that this stronghold kept, all to reach the ultimate understanding of the greater scheme of things.

No matter how much he wished to keep you at home and promise you that he’ll return in time for dinner, he couldn’t. Not only was it impossible for him to lie to you like that, but he was also unable of stopping you from joining him, no matter how many times he warned you that he might not be able to keep you safe during this mess of a quest, or even as much as say with certainty that neither of you will die. Still, you were persistent, and though you felt your body shivering with fear as soon as you reached the courtyard to the two entrances, you still didn’t back down - You were going to stay by his side, through thick and thin.

From the very second that you got in front of the dungeons, he could see your body trembling softly with fear, from the sheer malevolent and suffocating pressure that it emanated. Enki was unable of reassuring you with words, but he held your hand, guiding you blindly through the intricate hallways of the labyrinthine dungeon, though he had no idea where exactly he had to go. The only thing he knew was that he had to find Le’Garde somewhere deep underneath the dungeons, in the prison levels... Probably.

As torches would go out far too quickly, leaving you to stumble blindly through the place, you used a simple magic spell to create a ball of light in your palm.

In a place as decrepit and plagued such as the Fear and Hunger dungeon, even your Radiating Soul seemed to be greying and fading tragically.

It was thanks to Enki’s level-headed and composed self that you could feel relatively safe. That, and his almost unsettling Necromancy skill, which aided him in creating a small army of ghouls and skeletons to aid your journey to success.

The two of you first encountered an enormous prison guard, with rather disproportionate genitals, ready to tackle you and destroy you entirely. You were absolutely terrified, stunned and rooted to the spot - Thankfully, the Dark Priest and his powerful dark magic were able to quickly massacre the foe.

To calm you down, Enki cupped your face and planted a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering loving words until he could feel your bode relaxing under his touch, ready to go on with your long and perilous journey.

You scavenged various crates and barrels, finding food, armors and weapons useful for the future, though the two of you still relied on your own powerful magic, and the cannon fodder dead as meat shields.

You killed two dark priests, taking their soul stones and purifying talismans, sacrificing a man and raising affinity with Gro-Goroth, before unsealing the magic door using Counter-Magic and venturing inside where they found a Hexen and learnt Greater blood magic.

In one of the libraries, there weren’t all that many books of interest. Somewhere further along, you found a ritualistic circle painted on the ground with blood, over a carved up symbol of Gro-Goroth. You looked up at Enki, confused, as he studied the book on the pedestal closely.

“Gor-Goroth requires a sacrifice, doesn’t he? And Sylvian wants love. Alll-mer wants prayer, doesn’t he? What are we supposed to do?” you ask, looking down at the intricate circle. “Nothing. I’ll do a quick prayer for the God of Destruction, but nothing more. Get out of that circle right now, I don’t want to risk your safety.” he ushered you away quickly as he prayed, and took you out of that place immediately.

On a book shelf, somewhere up, beyond your reach, Enki found the renowned Necronomicon. With trembling hands and deep excitement, he dares to read the Black Book, and even learns the Black Orb spell. This new-found knowledge only seemed to further excite the Dark Priest, so much so that he smirked with deep triumph.

Probably one of the worst parts of the journey was traversing through the Blood-Flesh pit to get to the prisons and activate the elevator for the ground levels; Honestly, how in the world could such a disgusting thing exist, anyway? Everything was so fleshy, squishy, juicy and revolting, it made your skin crawl.

Out in the courtyard, you found a massive statue of Alll-mer, to which you begrudgingly prayed to, but funny enough, somewhere to the left of the courtyard, a huge orgy was taking place, with a bunch of naked people wearing only bunny masks. They were in a trance-like state, and the act seemed rather painful for the submissive one; It was absolutely terrifying to watch, especially as none were letting out a single noise. It seemed that love for the sake of Sylvian had completely gone corrupted. Seeing how uncomfortable it made you, Enki grabbed your wrist and took you away from there without another word. No Godly Affinity was worth your discomfort.

The next location you went to was the Mines, where you noticed a presence that didn’t seem to indicate any kind of malice. Though Enki was a little more weary, as he felt responsible for your well-being, you found yourself encouraged to step forward and introduce yourself. This man looked very similar to Enki, with long and well-kept hair, pale skin, and a dust-grey priest robe. There was something about his soul also, something familiar, that made you feel you could trust this man called Nosramus.

He, also, had an Enlightened Soul. No wonder you felt at ease in his presence. Enki, also, seemed to be feeling the same way. Nosramus revealed he is an alchemist and he lives in this God-Forsaken place. Unfortunately, he had to run away, as he had forgotten his kettle on. What a shame.

Stumbling around blindly through the mines, you had to battle a rather hostile Yellow Mage, though with some rather cunning talk from Enki, he retriever a rather interesting Talisman, before killing that ridiculous dancing foe.

After defeating the Salmonsnake and a ton of ghosts, passing by the cannibal orgy dedicated to Gro-Goroth, Enki summons a portal passage towards the bridge to Ma’habre, pulling you in with him along the ancient city. Somewhere up in the sky, you could see the ghostly silhouette of the four New Gods, who disappeared one by one, but not before a promise of reunion. You were sent back to the mines after that. What a peculiar manifestation of magic!

You went through a whole city of inoffensive yet rather creepy cave-dwellers before finding your way to attack a huge, armoured Knight and its phantasmal counterpart which blocked the path towards Nosramus’ laboratory. He seemed to greet you with open arms and a genuine smile on his face.

Enki asked him what his studies consisted in, and he claims he studies just about all fields of knowledge, like a true renaissance man would, like blood magic, deities, gods and what not, though now he’s most interested in nature and the heartbeat of the earth. Enki smirked a little, realising that such interest aligns with your own. He seemed rather light-hearted and jovial, joking around about having been around for an eternity, and that this dungeon is vital for his studies. Though, when asked about this particular man, he seemed vague, though he confirmed he must be a few floors below them, and they should hurry.

Emboldened by his affirmation, they returned to the Cave-Dwellers’ village and searched around for clues, until they found a rather intricate and particular artifact in the form of a cube. It was the Cube of the Depths. Unfortunately, as soon as they grabbed it, the otherwise peaceful Cave-Dwellers became hostile and started attacking them once spotted. What a shame.

Once escaped, they found themselves deep inside a rather terrifying thicket, chased around by poisoned mumblers, though here, they found a weird, large, bulbous thing like a chist, pulsating and throbbing. They destroyed it immediately, before going down a hole in the ground, reaching the Level 7 Catacombs and finding another such thing.

Unfortunately, just down that corridor, they found the prison cell where the Man of the Prophecy was being shackled. He was already long dead. They were much too late. They failed the task they set out to. How annoying.

Looking at each other, you and Enki exited the prison cell hand in hand, looking down in disappointment - There was no reason for you to be there anymore, was it? Alas, Enki’s path to Enlightenment was shattered in front of him. Mumbling a few curses, he was deaf to the sound of footsteps approaching. “Nosramus!” Enki was brought back to reality by your sweet voice gasping out the alchemist’s name.

The man seemed to have already guessed the one called Le’Garde was long dead. He must have thought he’d have had a much bigger role in the greater scheme of things, but apparently, not so much. Still, the seed of what he planted continues to grow and branch. Nosramus encouraged you to venture further into the darkness and figure out this enigmatic riddle for yourselves. With you thirst for success, Enki dragged you to a large stone gate, engraved with a variety of runes. He brought out the Cube, and the doors opened, to the Tomb of the Gods. Fantastic! This area looks to be from the distant past, how intriguing!

The Priest rushed with you through the many corridors of the Tomb, until you reached the outside; The darkness was hiding away the city, though with your magic, you could get a small glimpse of the odd architecture of this ancient city. It truly was a work of art and historical fountain.

A little unsure of what to do, you reach a Beacon, which seemed to react to the Cube. It grew taller by a few levels, glowing bright green, and suddenly, you and Enki were in Ma’Habre, now illuminated by the bright daylight. The two of you could only stare in shock and wonder at the sight before your eyes - Neither of you ever thought you would witness such a miracle. You were grateful to Nosramus for his guidance. That man knew so much more than he led on.

The Ancient City was wonderous to explore, and it felt almost as though you were sight-seeing, and you were just a newly-married couple enjoying their honeymoon vacation abroad; Though most of the time, you spent in the Grand Library was the most welcomed, as you found so many long-forgotten books to study. Of course, you found yourself stealing a few of them, eager to take them home, restore them, copy them and place them in your own Rondon Library, to benefit other scholars also.

When you were ready to leave the Library, you got attacked by something that you could only call a giant head with its brain out... And uh... An eye that looks awfully phallic.

After guarding from a headbutt and summoning a blood golem, Enki tries talking some sense to the God of Enlightenment... The great Enlightened Valeil became this weird, huge head. Bewildering. Though he didn’t seem to react to his words, a stream of ideas, concepts and questions fill your head.

“Among us... The new Gods... I am Valteil to the Enlightenment as Francois is to the Domination. Who is Torment...?” the voice inside your head asked. At once, Enki answered correctly, mentioning Chambara’s name. The boss took a good amount of damage. Whilst you kept using defensive and healing spells, the undead army kept attacking, allowing Enki safe space to speak and destroy the boss.

“The dark continent... Whence the darkness slowly leaks to the Western World... Where the day only shines... Eternal darkness and grey gloom... What is it called among the people of Europa?” Enki answered correct with his answer of Vinland, causing the Enlightened One a massive headache.

“We, the new Gods... Whilst still walking among men... Our fellowship, when did we embark on our journey to Ascension?” Year 809 was the correct answer, as expected of someone like your remarkable husband. Valteil’s right hemisphere and that ridiculous eye had been destroyed, and then his left hemisphere also. He remained a hallow skull.

“Alll-mer, the Ascended one... The last of the older Gods. What year marks the birth of his new self?” Year 0 was the right answer, of course, and with that, Valteil was defeated. The head of Valteil the Enlightened One falls down to the darkness from where it once rose. The millennia of wisdom and knowledge that is too much for a normal person to bear passes through your heads. You only get glimpses of what is waiting for you on the other side, but this information stream is too much for your mind to handle. Your head hurts, and you feel a little shaken up. You look at Enki, who’s clutching his head also, yet he seems completely ecstatic with the knowledge that something far greater has just started to change.

The cogs of Fear and Hunger have just began to rotate on a larger scale. You got the Enlightened Soul. Enki’s hand squeezed yours, and it was clear, he’s never been more thrilled than with this experience. For a brief second there, he wanted to regret embarking in such a dangerous adventure, yet now, he was pumped up and ready to learn more.

Traversing back through the intricate library, you found Valteil’s mortal body, strung up at the waist with a rope. He seemed absolutely depressed, saying that mankind has no hope, and that ascension was never the right path. Enki admitted he was also on the path of Enlightenment, to which he was warned not to be fooled by power or blinded by the golden throne. One must admit his own mistakes in order to grow, he said. There was, however, one amongst them who was right, though Valteil hadn’t expanded on that, leaving them with more questions than answers.

Enki found an empty scroll, on which he scribbled a request to Alll-mer, to be taught how to walk on water, so you could return back to where you killed the Salmonsnake and reach the other side of the mines. There, you were met with a menacing lizardman, and a bunch of humans strung upside down. They were skinned and mutilated. Seeing your horrified look, Enki held your hand and rushed through the mines, trying to shield your view from the atrocities.

You reached a sealed door, which Enki unlocked with the use of Counter-magic again, and inside, you found none other than Nosramus himself! What a coincidence! He asked about Valteil, somehow sensing they you met him. When Enki told him that he was regretting his past actions, the Alchemist seemed amused and intrigued. It was the first time he had heard about Valteil admitting his mistakes.

“Nosramus, forgive me for asking, but you were friends, weren’t you? You, and all the others.” Nosramus finds himself smiling a little wider hearing you speak. “Valteil mentioned one of his friends being on the correct path - That must have been you, right?” the Alchemist gave a nostalgic nod of his head, explaining that Valteil’s belief was that one could achieve Enlightenment with a snap of his fingers, if only he Ascended. Of course, a ridiculous idea, and Nosramus, to this day, is still bewildered to how easily his friend fell into that trap. The ultimate truth was just one, that there is no end to the path of Enlightenment. New information, new forms of science, new people, new worlds... The knowledge of the world keeps on increasing. How could you settle down thinking you are at the end of it all, he wondered rhetorically.

“We learn our whole life.” Enki found himself mumbling under his breath, his eyes wide with realisation. That quote made Nosramus smile with pride. Unknown to the alchemist, it was you who once told Enki that little thing, and now, to think some words could mean so much, could hold such value. Enki turned his head to you, and once again, amidst the darkness, he saw you radiating brightly - So bright, in fact, like a muse, like the Sun brightens up the whole world at once.

Nosramus then recommended that Enki sits on the golden throne to meet his reflection - Surely, there will be incredible insight and knowledge, especially of the New Gods, which he could learn. Still, he had to heed caution - If he truly was a scholar of sciences, he must only observe, not surrender to the lust of power, like those before him. Thus, the Alchemist offered him the Spirit Anchor.

Enki was a little too bewildered to speak, and could only watch as you embraced the Alchemist, thanking him for his kindness and benevolence is sharing such a gift with you. “Thank you for all of your help, Nosramus. Without you, I am sure, my husband would never truly be happy. It is through knowledge that he finds happiness - And I can only be happy, when seeing him like this. You have saved him from despair, and from himself. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” the Forgotten One simply chuckled light-hearted, patting your head as though you were his little sister or daughter, reassuring you it wasn’t a big deal he was doing, before ushering you on your way.

Your radiating smile painted a little colour on Enki’s pale cheeks, and you excitedly grabbed both of his hands, dragging him back to the Blood Portal, so you could return to the Ancient City and continue your fantastic journey. You reached the back alleys of the city, and using a stone, you searched for a safe place to land. Clearly, you couldn’t trust the ghouls to hold a rope for you to descend, so you had to jump and land, albeit a little rough, on a small piece of safe land that reached inside an underground cave. Thankfully, Enki caught you, alleviating the pain of your legs.

This cave was filled to the brim with wooden mannequins and a weird machine which, when adding Enki’s blood, it... Created a human husk in his image. Now, you had a rather awkward Enki, looking with disgust and embarrassment at his naked clone, shamelessly prancing around the place. Your amused giggle only made him huff and look away, grabbing you to move along and exit the cave.

Climbing up a ladder, with the clone following you, you found yourselves inside the Temple of Torment. The atmosphere was so thick and heavy that you felt compelled to leave for the moment and explore a little more.

You reached the Tower of the Endless, where you found a bed. Weirdly enough, you felt rather safe in this place, as though you could rest a little. You have been running around for so long, that perhaps a little shut-eyes was welcomed. Enki agreed, laying down on the bed, making room for you to cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

However, weirdly enough, you met inside your joined dream, and you found yourselves in Rondon. Though confused, you found yourselves inside a brothel, seeing a mercenary speak to his prostitute wife about his future job and how he wants to provide for her - It was to rescue the very man they found dead. Next, you had to relieve the moment Enki tried to get himself sacrificed, to which the man in cause took you away, not wanting to have you experiencing such heartbreak a second time.

Walking further, you found yourselves deep inside the Oldegard forests, where you saw an Outlander mourning the death of his comrades who were massacred in a war with the Rondon knights who sought an artifact they found. The Outlander seemed to realise his wife and son were in danger, so he rushed to this barn, on a path soaked in blood and corpses. This man was defeated with the knowledge of his family’s death, and he swore revenge on the monster who did this.

Once the Outlander’s memory disappeared, you and Enki walked inside the barn, seeing a Skin Granny, which you had to fight and defeat through all of her phases - Thankfully, it wasn’t that difficult a fight, thanks to your greater magic proficiency and the many undead fighters shielding you two. Once defeated, you excited the barn, seeing a vision of Le’Garde, the man of the prophecy, speaking to one of his female knights rather cryptically. She seemed completely blinded with love for him, but he was simply using her.

As this memory, too, ended, you were engulfed in nothing but a white light, and a woman, Nilvan the Endless, appeared before you. She caressed her swollen belly, begging you to take her child to the darkness, to save the child, and thus, she offered you the Endless Soul. How amusing though, considering neither of you even encountered a child to begin with, but her soul was more than welcomed.

Refreshed and feeling stronger, mentally and emotionally, you and Enki smoked a little and ate well before returning to the Temple of Torment, ready for an arduous fight. As soon as you enter the Temple, a loud, echoing scream, like that of a man deep in anguish and agony, resounded through the whole place, sending shivers down your neck. It was the most terrifying thing you’ve ever heard, and you instinctively clinged onto Enki’s arm for some comfort.

Somewhere inside a long room, you found a weird torture mechanism, and with a heavy heart, you placed the clone on the hooks, ready to sacrifice the husk - Though Enki didn’t seem the least bit disturbed at seeing his own mirror image being tortured to the point of having his skin painfully ripped apart by the hooks, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at it, your heart shattering as the skeletons kept rotating the wheels.

The Red Man continued shrieking loudly as blood streamed everywhere through the temple, and the deep pit was now full with blood, from which the Tormented One emerged silently. Defeating him once was easy, though the New God succumbed deep inside the pool of blood, as a terrible sensation filled you, as if something was about to happen that should forever remain unknown to human eyes. Thus, he emerged one again, in the middle of three spiky wheels of torment swinging around their axis. One by one, they jammed and destroyed the horrific wheels, and their suffering God, until they all sank into the pool of blood as quietly as when they rose from it.

Though it was a terrifying sight and battle, you feel as if a millennia of torment just slipped before your eyes. You feel sorry for this tormented deity, though Enki not so much. Regardless, you gain the third soul, the Tormented Soul.

Thus, you return to the City Center of Ma’habre, ready to defeat the guard blocking your path from entering the Golden Temple. Inside the Temple, you found an older version of Francois the Dominating, and you engaged in a rather interesting conversation with him, who advised you on how to defeat his younger, more cocky self. After killing the last purple, throbbing heart, you return into the past of the Ancient City, using the Cube of the Depths, ready to defeat the last God.

You found Francois sitting on the golden throne, speaking down on you as though you were vermin or even less. Thankfully, with the use of the old Francois and some cunning speech, you were able to destroy his younger self’s ego enough to make him reckless and vulnerable and destroy him forever, taking his Dominating Soul.

Looking at the golden throne, you felt your body softly trembling, before shifting your gaze towards your lover. You threw your arms around him, bringing him into a tight embrace, confession your love for him over and over and over again, your eyes stinging with tears of sheer fear. Enki simply cupped your face and pulled you into a deep, loving kiss.

It was the first time Enki ever truly told you ‘I love you’.

He tried to tell you he will return to you, but something caught in his throat, rendering him unable to promise something like that. Instead, he felt an electrifying feeling down his spine, and not even once did you break eye contact, as he slowly sat down on the throne of the New Gods.

A bright light engulfed you, and surprisingly, you found yourself in an incomprehensible dimension or world, transported by the throne. Enki was still sitting, while you stood in front of him, both of you deeply confused. Hand in hand, you and the undead army searched for a path towards... Who knew?

As you stepped in the middle of a bridge that separated two large bodies of lands, something started slowly rising from the green hue. Coiling, slimy tentacles were dancing above the green smoke, before the monolithic creature slowly rose from inside the green fog. You and Enki looked at one another, unable to properly comprehend what were you battling, yet you knew, the being before you had tremendous power.

This creature was the Goddess of Life and Love, Sylvian. Tentacles slammed and swirled around in an erratic manner, damaged the protecting undead and blood golems. Suddenly, you noticed the creature growing a large tumor in a humanoid shape, and it was wriggling in pain.

With great difficulty, you managed to cut the four tentacles lashing out at you and the humanoid tumour, before finally descending back into the green smokes, letting you go in peace. What a relief. Battling an Old God took its toll on you two, and you needed a few seconds of respiro, smoking some opium, before finding some strength in your feet to walk forward and have... A New God, oddly resembling Enki, with a cage on his head, greeting you.

“Knowledge... It suffocates those who are not able to adjust to it. I could not bear the world with everything I’ve learned with the Enlightenment and my Ascension. It is said that ignorance is bliss and knowledge only enhances the pain. The only way for me to continue existing was to change. Knowledge changes one permanently. There is no looking back after a certain point.” the reflection of Enki spoke to him in a monotone voice.

That reflection was what he was to become. He felt great lust for power take over him - It would have been so easy to give in and learn secrets that are only whispered among mortals - But he came prepared, and had been warned about such lust; Not only that, a single look into your eyes was enough to remind him of his true purpose, his true happiness. He didn’t want to end up like Valteil, trapping himself in the corner, with nothing left to do but rot away, forgotten by the world. No, he was destined for so much more - Though a mortal, he felt content continuing his path towards Enlightenment with you by his side.

You declined the Godhood and managed to step out of the plane of the ascended that was coloured by the green hue that radiated from the underground pits. It’s not like your ascension wasn’t without its merits, even if you withdrew at the last second. You saw the reflection after all and understood its intents. With newly found knowledge, he took the grand libraries of the ancient city as his own, and once he was done with a book, he would pass it on to you, to read, copy and restore, so that you could make your own Great Library of Rondon the most Enlightened one in the whole world. The Enlightened Library.

Thankfully, the library of Ma’habre already contained more information than one could digest in multiple lifetimes, yet lucky for you, Enki, with a little help from Nosramus, discovered the secrets of a prolonged life pretty soon.

You found out how the older Gods had left this world long ago. You had taken care of the New Gods that resided in the city of the Gods. Enki did not need Godhood to chase after the true Enlightenment. He did not need Godhood to become the most powerful mortal to exist.

He already WAS the most accomplished mortal that ever was, and will ever be.

And with your Radiating warmth, love, beauty and support, along with his new-found friend, the Alchemist Nosramus, the Forgotten One, life has become a truly happy bliss.

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just-tv-media · 21 hours

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#final fantasy xv #frases en español #le sserafim #hailey outland #[my art]#druig x reader #straya #vash the stampede #ferrari #latina

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commercial-for-either · 2 days

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#Hailey Clauson #stanford pines #angelcore #five nights at freddys #reigen arataka #the script #fred weasley x reader #helena bonham carter #frases en español #hailey outland #druig x reader

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four-field-world · 6 days

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#lee pace #emily ratajkowski #hailey outland #druig x reader #ferrari #maccadam #uswnt #concept playlist #alexis ren #microbiology #free use slvt #girlblogger

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eat-risk17 · 9 days

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#男の娘 #lee pace #le sserafim #hailey outland #[my art]#druig x reader #vash the stampede #taissa farmiga #80s aesthetic #hush hush #90s fashion #synthwave #handsome

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air-relationship-hundred · 11 days

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#hailey outland #bread #[my art]#Aladdin #druig x reader #straya #vash the stampede #ferrari #latina #taissa farmiga #thicc women #panic! at the disco #80s aesthetic #maccadam

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dadsbongos · 2 months

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I NEED MORE RAGNVALDR SMUT THIS MAN IS MAKING ME GO CUCKOO

you n me both you n me both you n me both you n me both like!!

warnings - randomly lost the spark for this at the end and you can… tell lol, not proofread, fem body, whiny pathetic big man with big tits >>>>>, unprotected piv but liek cmon… what is the protection in that era youre lucky rag’s washed

845 words

~~~

“You’re very close.”

“You’re more comfortable than the bed.”

Ragnvaldr snorts a laugh, eyes fluttering shut as he grins, hands winding tighter around your waist and squeezing the soft fat, “You’re obsessed with flattering me, elskede.”

“You’re worth the flattery,” you lift your chin and settle it between his collar bones to stare up at the man.

Auburn strands of hair burn like gold in the pouring sunlight, soft sage eyes gooey as they return your gaze. Morning birds sing outside the gaping window, fresh air chilling through the bedroom. Last night, you’d fallen asleep side-by-side only for the man to pull you atop his chest in the dark. Or maybe he did it as the sun first rose, staring at your lax face through bleary eyes; determined not to wake you.

Wringing both arms under Ragnvaldr’s head, you pull your face closer to his and earnestly giggle at how his cheeks go ruby red.

“Hm, blushing is a good look for you,” you dance the blade of your nails across his sharp cheekbones, feeling the warmth from his face lick over your fingertips, “So bashful.”

“Bashful,” he scoffs at the mere notion, “I’m the strongest warrior in Oldegaard, I am not bashful.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So, then, if I do this…” you sit up slowly, making a show of petting your palms down his chest and curving your back to push out your chest, perhaps -- just by mere coincidence -- grinding your pelvis into his, “You’ll feel nothing?”

“Nothing,” the tremble in his muscles says otherwise. So does the upward, smitten twitch of his lips. His hands tighten around your waist.

Ragnvaldr is as much a lovestruck fool as he is a warrior, he’s big and simple and so, so tender in your hands.

“Do you lie to me?” you pout, and though he knows it’s fake Ragnvaldr is tempted to smear it off your face.

He beams up at you, a chuckle rumbling low in his throat, “Of course, I’m lying. Have you seen yourself?”

You shrug coyly and he laughs again.

“Beautiful,” Ragnvaldr stretches his neck to press his lips to your neck, “So very beautiful.”

“Now who’s full of flattery?” you tease as hands larger and bolder than your own peel off the gown you’d slept in; Ragnvaldr lifts his hips while you fumble off his trousers.

Warmth lathes up your spine, washing over your skin in time with the softness of Ragnvaldr’s palms. He pulls and squeezes the fat of your hips in appreciation as your slick envelopes his cock. Tossing his head back in a throaty whine, Ragnvaldr bucks his hips up -- settling both feet on the creaky straw and pelts to better thrust into you. Slow and thorough, he curls both arms around your waist and binds you both chest to chest; earnestly moaning at the squish of your bare breasts against him. Leaning his head against yours, Ragnvaldr lovingly molds his lips against your forehead.

“I love you,” he proclaims, “Love,” he whines, high and pitchy and snapping into the back of his throat, “My love, my good love, sweet girl…” he shudders under your hands, pace quickening, “Please, sweet girl, kiss me.”

You should’ve known -- if you weren’t preoccupied with whimpering and wailing his name, you’d probably giggle. Ragnvaldr loves to kiss during sex, no matter how contradictory his wrapping and hugging says otherwise. You have to wiggle up from his sweaty arms to worm your face by his, kissing along his jaw just to tease your lips against the corner of his mouth.

“Please,” the big man huffs pathetically, arms cinching tighter around your body and hips rocking the thin mat below you, “Don’t be cruel to me.”

“Rag’,” you croon, finally giving him the pleasure of your lips locked to his, now mumbling against him, “My precious man, big, big man. You’re so good to me.”

His face flames beneath yours, only growing hotter the longer you speak, “Uh-huh?”

“Yes, yes,” you gasp, his cock driving harder into the spongy spot that makes you weep, “Fuck me harder, Rag’! Rougher, my love, don’t be gentle…”

“Uh-huh…” he nods weakly, and continues nodding against you -- skulls thumping dully in time with his fucking, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh…”

Fire rips up the seams of your tangled limbs, scorching up the loose ends of the building knots in both of your guts. Ragnvaldr tears his face back from yours, groaning and crying mixes of your name and gibberish. Gibberish until he finally crackles out,

“Can I- !" he's broken by a shiver and moan, "Can I cum inside, elskede?”

He wriggles one arm off you and in between your bodies to flick wetly around your clit. You burrow your face into the bend of his shoulder, biting the meat of his neck to muffle your swelling moans. You snag your nails into his broad chest, his soft hair tangling under your fingers, spurring you for an eager reply.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chant dumbly, decisively numb to everything except Ragnvaldr and the ecstasy he brings.

BOOM bomb explodes you DIE!!!

#ragnvaldr x reader #ragnvaldr smut #LMAO those tags arent real #god what am i #fear and hunger x reader #fear and hunger smut #the outlander x reader

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development-boy-work · 15 days

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#miguel o'hara #five nights at freddys #reigen arataka #the script #locked and denied #bts yoongi #男の娘 #emily ratajkowski #hailey outland #[my art]#druig x reader #vash the stampede #latina #thicc women

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follow-at-coach · 20 days

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#bts yoongi #helena bonham carter #final fantasy xv #emily ratajkowski #hailey outland #[my art]#druig x reader #vash the stampede #ferrari #taissa farmiga #panic! at the disco

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moonlight-rider25 · 8 months

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Sorry, James Fraser...

Just a quick little lusty through of Jamie. Rated X; angry sex, orgasm denial, dabble of domination...

Summary You’ve insulted Jamie in the slightest on the walk home through town. A simple joke, or so you thought, as you both were poking fun at each other. But taking an insult to Jamies name, one step too far has you in hot water…

“Jamie! I’m sorry!” You giggle through your gasps.

“Ay, like hell you are…” He replies, locking his hand up against your scalp with a fistful of hair. “...But ye will be..”

Jamie leans his body up against yours; pinned between him and the cold concrete wall. You swallow back a gleeful grin, as Jamies free hand creeps up under your skirts. His huge, blunt, warm fingertips grazing against your sensitive soft thigh. You try to push back and free yourself of him, but at no use to his huge toned body.

“Be a good girl, and take it, aye, for once?”

You chuckle a bit in your throat, biting back your lip and giving into his hand creeping around the front of your thigh between your legs. His warm breath tickles the back of your neck as he pants against you, holding you still. You await his touch eagerly, when finally the warm spark of his touch reaches your center. You jump a bit against him and hear him chuckle in his throat against you, edging him on. His fingers circle slowly around your sensitive bud as he leans in against you. You feel him breathing heavily, as you suck in a deep breath of your own before allowing a long moan to escape you.

Jamie grips your handful of hair tighter and snaps your head back a bit as you suck in a sharp breath.

“Jamie!” You pant against the brick wall.

His fingers circle faster around your swollen core, as he presses up against you harder. You hear him moan as he takes hold of your neck with his mouth, sucking in your soft skin, as his fingers trace elegant designs between your legs. You gasp loudly, your hands searching for him to clutch.

“We’ve only just begun…don’t you dare think about finishing on me already.” Jamie mutters breathessley against your neck.

You squint your eyes shut and try desperately to tear yourself from his grip. He only leans harder against you, while his huge fingers begin to dip in between your quaking folds.

You gasp against the hard cold wall as you feel him plunge his fingers within you, his thumb still circling around your pulsating bud with your slickness. As his fingers plunge in and out against the growing pleasure within you, his mouth meets your neck again sending shivers down your spine.

His hand releases your hair and wraps around the front of your throat, gently clutching and making you gasp harder for air.

“Jamie!” You moan, feeling your body beginning to tingle with the pleasure building up inside ready to explode.

“Not yet..” He huffs, his hand working your core like never before.

“...Not till I say!” He grunts against you.

You try to suppress the pleasure as much as you can.

“I can’t Jamie!” You cry between breaths.

“No!?” he groans. “I thought you were sorry?!” He curses through breaths, “Aye! Show me, how sorry…you really are…” He instructs you through gritted teeth.

You groan helpless beneath him trying to hold back from spilling over as he plunges in and out of your core. Your body tingles with pleasure and your stomach twists into a chuning mess, far ready to come undone within his arms. You swallow hard, his hand clutched against your throat as you do and grind your back against him. Your hands gripped as tight as possible while being grated against the hard brick wall. You bite back your groans trying to keep yourself from cuming, when you finally feel him release you and your eyes spark open. Jamie whips you around pinning you back against the wall; your legs trembling uncontrollably as he does.

You look down towards the belt of his pants before his giant hand clasps your throat again and makes your eyes meet his.

Your body; still tingling as he clutches your jaw and stares madly down into your eyes. Your chest heaves, your breasts spilling over the plunging neckline of your dress as he softly meets your lips with his. You groan against him and suck his tongue eagerly into your mouth, relishing in his musky sweet flavor of lust and vengeance. You slowly allow your hands to trace around the waist of his pants, trying to unbutton the entrance of them. He groans into you as he sucks your flavor into his mouth, cupping your chin in his huge hand and eagerly caresses your breast from its neckline. His blunt calloused fingertips revel over your sensitive nipple and send your body into chills. His buttons; one by one begin to free him, bursting at the last moment eagerly till finally the last one.

Jamie's hands release you and gather your skirts up around your waist. He effortlessly plucks you up from the ground and traps you again between himself and the wall behind you, you wrap your arms around his huge broad neck, watching as his gleaming chests puffs up and down as he stares madly up into your eyes. You try your best to bite back your giggle as he slams against you, sending your body into the brick wall and your center expands around him deep seated inside you.

Jamie grunts through a wicked smile as he watches your eyes flutter open and closed, sending himself impossibly deep inside you, as your body forms around him in his arms. Your core begins to quiver again, as he slams you repeatedly and steadily. Your body growing limp as the sensations spiral up through your skin, Jamie holds you steady and sends himself into the spot inside that makes your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Jamie!” you pant as your climax grows near again.

He holds you steady and continues bucking into your sweet tender spot, deep inside you.

“Are you sorry?” He mutters against your mouth. “For being a bad little woman, soiling my name?” He huffs through kisses.

“I am! I swear I am. You moan against him.

“Say it!” He demands, thrusting in against you.

“I'm sorry!” you grumble through him.

“Say it again!”

“I’m Sorry!” You repeat a bit louder.

“Say it like you mean it, woman!” Jamie demands, grinding perfectly in and out of you.

“I’m sorry Jamie!” You moan out.

“Say it again!”

Your stomach twists and swirls as he makes your climax boil in your core.

“I’m sorry Jamie!” you squeal while your core quivers with each of his thrusts.

“Jamie, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Jamie! Ahhh Jamie, right there!” You moan out before he finally captures your mouth and silences you.

You feel him slow and the rush of heat within your stomach as you convulse in his arms while your high spills throughout your body. Jamie keeps himself buried deep within you, giving a few last thrusts sending jolts through your body as you heave from breathlessness in his arms. He pants against you, capturing your mouth and holds your face gently as he sets you down and finally pulls himself out of you. You wrap your arms around his huge broad neck and steady yourself while still trying to catch your breath. He meets your eye and grins a playful smirk at you.

“Sorry James Fraser..” You tell him coyly through your own grin.

‘Ey, I know.” he replies before kissing you again. “But don't do that again..” He warns with a wink.

You smile up at him biting back your lip. “Well… not till we get home at least!” You tell him before running off ahead of him with a playful giggle filling the air echoing around you and Jamie, off the tall brick walls.

#james fraser #jamie fraser smut #outlander x reader #outlander jamie x reader #outlander jamie fraser #outlander smut #jamie fraser outlander #jamie fraser #outlander #jamie x reader #jamie x reader smut #jamie outlander #jamie smut #reader x jamie #outlander fanfic #outlander imagine #jamie imagine #james fraser imagine #jamie fraser imagaine

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dream-despite-develop-too · 24 days

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#bts yoongi #男の娘 #frases en español #drarry #hailey outland #bread #Aladdin #druig x reader #straya #vash the stampede #ferrari #latina #taissa farmiga #panic! at the disco

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dadsbongos · 4 months

Text

kanin under maanen

word count - 4.6 k

warnings - p in v sex, reader is described with words like "soft" and "round" and is also fem, rag's status as a widower is an afterthought, i kept losing track of where i put his furs

also - i think oldegaard is funger's norway?? or something... :P oops

“Please- I’ll be quick, I swear! I’ll carry things! I know how to mix herbs, I can heal you! And I’ll be quiet, too. Just, oh, just please... please let me stay with you…!”

Your hands rattle against your chest, which heaves like you’re fresh from a churning dash through the entirety of the dungeons -- just to ask this man, a stranger, a simple question.

“Can I stay with you, please?”

Ragnvaldr stares down at you over the bridge of his nose, seafoam eyes lapping over the weaker stain of your frame in his vision. Such bold, shameless desperation plagues him. He starts to wonder how you’d made it to the courtyard. How many cramped corners you’d jammed yourself into, barely scraping out of the dungeon beasts’ sights. How you’ve held your mind together to form words and continue your slow crawl to freedom.

The reddened, raw stretch of skin over his right ribs stings suddenly to emphasize your point. Ragnvaldr was raised well enough to know which shrubbery to scrub into which wounds and which ones to avoid at all costs, but his knowledge was poultry compared to what these cells demanded.

At the downwards twitch of your knees, Ragnvaldr can feel an uncomfortableness to rival the ache of his seared flesh twinge through his beating chest. He takes you by the shoulder, grip loosening when you flinch under his hold. Ragnvaldr shakes his head, silky cardinal tresses dancing over his skin. His lips, cracked and fading in color, pin themselves back faintly to ease your shivering uncertainty.

“No need to beg on your knees,” Ragnvaldr unlatches from you completely in favor of cradling the slowly leaking slashes in his side, “You said you can heal?”

“Yes!” you eagerly respond, nodding, “Yes, let’s sit you down!”

Ragnvaldr flows under the bristle of your fingertips, fur armor quickly coming off. His uncovered back was against the chilled stone highwall; lower body stretched out against the grass bed. Your hands move in smoother, more assured strides as you single out the most useful of your colored leaves.

“Can I…?”

“Ja, anything you need.”

Ragnvaldr’s eyes, you notice, have softened in how they watch over your work. The flutter of his lashes now matches the tenderness of their color. A near-missed swipe from a serrated weapon -- none like you’ve seen -- decorates the majority of his right side under his arm. Angry red lines string over the pink flesh. You press a careful hand into the surrounding area, testing the firmness of his body for soft spots. For broken bones. He allows it, despite the stark difference in strength and the fact he could probably crush your skull with one palm -- he allows your hands to roam.

The bag you pull from is ratty and he thinks the deep brown hue may be more from staining than original dyes, but he says nothing. You first pull out a thick book with yellowed pages between faded, peeling covers. Then, four blue herb sprigs and two glass vials -- the stretch and twist of your bones and ligaments beneath soft, unbruised skin is hypnotizing to Ragnvaldr. You crush the sprigs with a single vial before hurriedly separating the remains between the two vials and combining two blue vials into one.

“I don’t think it’s infected,” you murmur, clogging the vial with a cork. A lighter shade of blue now shimmers beneath the glass, darker shreds of herb cling inside the abandoned second vial.

Ragnvaldr shakes his head, “Nej. I’d have mentioned it.”

“Ah, right,” you cup a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as if you’re offstruck by your own words, “I didn’t mean- of course, you- I mean… I’m sorry,” you bashfully reopen the cerulean bottle and hold it up towards the man’s face, “I didn’t mean to suggest anything…”

A vicious anxiety continues to course through your chest, no matter how pliant Ragnvaldr has made himself to show his trust for your care. You’re visibly hyper-aware of how simply he could end your life. Something about the nature of this makes him nauseous.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Ragnvaldr speaks softer than before, his voice a deep, gentle purr through the broad expanse of his chest. Tenderly, he swipes the open vial from your palm, the warmth from his skin washing over the cold nips of your own, “Thank you.”

Silently, you nod, wasting seconds to watch his adam’s apple bob thickly with each swallow before you pull loose the cloth you’ve collected through ransacked rooms. The strips coil around themselves by your kneeling legs.

“Can I start wrapping it?”

“Ja.”

“This might be…” you flounder under his eyes, instead stringing up the cloth in your hands and leaning over Ragnvaldr’s bigger frame. Invasive.

Ragnvaldr contemplates, for the second time, how you’d skipped past guards and tentacled flesh beasts and dogs. Even the impish, frail, winged creatures seem capable of knocking your terrorized self off your steady. Then, he asks himself why he’s taken you in. Oldegaard groomed strong warriors, and he had always taken pride in that. He was raised with scorching blood and willing hands, you were not.

But you remind him of the blacksmith’s girl. A sweet thing -- also unfamiliar with the fighter’s path. He prays she was killed quickly rather than being made to suffer.

Perhaps he can apologize to her and the rest of his gutted homeland by escorting you back out once he’s taken revenge.

“How did you get this?” your voice lulls Ragnvaldr from his own head, he looks up from your binding hands to your soft face, “Can I ask that? How were you injured?”

“A man with the head of a crow,” Ragnvaldr admits this to you with the ease he would his name, “A mace for an arm,” he gestures down the length of his side, “He’s much faster than I am.”

“I’m glad you got out,” you finish tucking the tattered end of your cloth spiral into the rest of the sprawl. You are suddenly afraid of being misconstrued, “I’m glad this dungeon couldn’t claim another soul.”

Ragnvaldr thinks you are as kind as the blacksmith’s girl, but you must have resilience to survive this far. More guts and nerve, and even teeth. They may be loose and accustomed to chewy, lavish fat, but you most certainly have teeth.

He wants to see them.

“I feel the same.”

You smile, bigger than he had earlier. The thin shadows and dimples highlighted in your face remind him of when he was younger, with the liberty to stare up at full moons. Absorbing and beautiful with radiance to shine over shadowed forests and into black night seas. He wants to return to there. Even in the cruel winters when he was faced with the opened chests and severed limbs of his deceased comrades. Even then, when he had to eat or be eaten, things were simpler compared to now.

“I think you should rest,” you frown immediately after speaking, “To avoid agitating the wound with the cloth… it isn’t very clean and I don’t have enough green herbs to keep infections at bay for long.”

Ragnvaldr tenses, but it’s not as nerve-wracking as it would’ve been mere moments ago. He clenches his fists and gently skims his knuckles down the pseudo-bandages, when it stuns him momentarily, he nods.

“We can’t stay out here, then.”

“There are rooms in the dungeon’s first level.”

“For torture?”

Dread fills you, that he may consider your suggestion foolish and ultimately dump you off to a guard, but then you see the lopsidedness of his grin. He’s messing with you.

“Well, yes,” you huff, coming to a stand and holding out both hands to assist him up, “but our options are limited.”

Ragnvaldr stubbornly stands on his own, pushing off the tower wall behind him and stumbling ahead of you towards the entry hall.

And with just as much defiance, you jam yourself under one of his arms before you can properly think out the action. Your desire to be helpful and needed by the strongman outweighs your politeness; not wanting to be abandoned with your back turned. Ragnvaldr jolts over you, but relents and leans the more unstable part of his weight against you. The trek is difficult, but you both manage. You feel less afraid traversing back through the dank, dark halls than you did leaving them, and you are not ignorant to the fact it's because of Ragnvaldr hanging over you. Injured as he is, he’s still far more competitively capable than you.

Once you’ve properly settled into a room and jammed the door shut, Ragnvaldr slips onto the sole creaky bed. His eyes close, exhaling noisily through his nose.

The bed’s frame is caked in dried, blackening blood and sits opposite a bucket full of murky sludge; a crinkly film drying over the surface. Pressed far into the side of the room is a table with glinting blades scattered across the stained wood. You can’t define what most of the tools are, but you can identify the skinning knife teetering by the closest edge of the table.

Aside from that are the typical smears of carmine blood over cobblestone: people before you and someday people after you. You can only pray now to the old Gods that it won’t be your own blood to join the pool.

For that, for your safe passage through the dungeons, you need to ensure your new party doesn’t fall to infection or blood loss.

“I’ll check you over tomorrow morning,” you tangle your fingers together, switching the weight between your feet, “Maybe tonight if it’s noticeably hurting.”

Ragnvaldr stares over at you again before patting the bed.

You heed the silent command, dragging along the worn bag you pulled from a barrel in the basement.

“What brought you here?” you wonder quietly, looking over at the man. He monopolizes the bedspace, spread wide over the mattress without even intending to.

His eyes drift up to the ceiling before finding your dutiful hands again, he follows the movements as they dig through your items. Taking stock of what you have, mourning the losses, and fretting over what you need. The blacksmith’s girl didn’t have hands as mystifying as you.

“I am here to find a relic that a certain person took from my people. This man is imprisoned somewhere deep down below,” Ragnvaldr is not so foolish as to believe his home’s pillaging is either undeserved or unbefitting for his soul to bear. He’s done the same, and the parasite from Vinland still burns a hole in his pocket. Even so, his human heart persists, “When I found them- I was one of only a few survivors.”

“Oh,” you pause your inventory search to very delicately press a hand to his shoulder and pat sympathetically, “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

He wonders what someone with as soft hands and face as you would think of such a declaration. If the teeth you have can chew through the toughness of his words. You pull back, but much slower than he was expecting, and return to sorting through your bag.

Much to Ragnvaldr’s surprise, you smile, “Then I’ll make sure you get there in one piece.”

You swallow his ominous message without pause.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, a friend of mine…” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, fingers caught at the bottom of your bag with a thin slip of paper, “She’s pregnant and the man promising to wed her came for a job to set them up for life. He’s been gone for a while.”

“A friend would send you here? Into this evil?”

“She never said she wanted me to come here,” you shrivel into yourself, settling your bag against the bedpost leg, “I don’t know what compelled me… I really- “ your hands fist the torn, blood-stained sheets, “I was an idiot to think I could’ve done any good here.”

Ragnvaldr sits up, laying his calloused palm over yours, “The man you’re looking for. What’s his name?”

“Cahara. Cahara of the South.”

The man nods, auburn strands hanging with the motion, “And I’ll make sure you find him for your friend.”

“Thank you,” you notice the way he moves further to the side, a new gap on the mattress for your body to slot beside him, “Thank you, Ragnvaldr.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard someone outside the North say his name with such care.

You lay beside Ragnvaldr and revel in how close the two of you are. Safety and comfort buzzing in the lack of space.

He’s big. And warm. Like the sun.

You missed the sun.

…

Upon rising from slumber, you see that Ragnvaldr is still in unguarded rest. His bare chest rises and falls in soothed repetitive swoops, and his soft hair rains over the flat pillow beneath him. Prepared to slide off the mattress, you don’t register the arm fastening you to Ragnvaldr before you’re brushing against it. The arm tightens and you’re rendered useless.

You contemplate waking Ragnvaldr. Of squeezing yourself through the narrow hold. Even forcefully unwinding his muscle from your midsection.

You fall back asleep.

…

By the next time you’re awake, Ragnvaldr is too. You’ve sat him up against the scratched, chipped headboard and are undressing his wound. Green herb sprigs sit at the ready by your right knee in case pus is clinging to the cloth and oozing from open shreds. Thankfully, nothing of the sort awaits.

“Good!” you chirp, and Ragnvaldr remembers a full moon hanging over the spindly, leafless trees in the harsh falls of his youth, “There’s still some scratching, probably scarring later… but no infection! And it’s not inflamed or red.”

“We should continue our way, then.”

“Oh.”

Ragnvaldr laughs suddenly, from the hull of his chest, and only stops when the skin over his ribs pulls uncomfortably, “You want to stay here?”

“It’s been nicer than out there… We could stay in here. Away from the darkness.”

It has been nicer. The dungeons of Fear and Hunger are no place for domesticity, but anything is fair in a locked room. In a strange way, you wish you could stay with the beautiful man from Oldegaard.

His hair brushes past his shoulders and even though he is so much larger than you (you fear that he may even be able to kill a guard on his own), he is nicer than most men you’ve met in your life. Especially where you live in the seedier underbelly of Rondon -- men with spines are not uncommon, but men with spines and hearts are. Cahara was a welcomed gem in the coal mines of home.

And Ragnvaldr, you fear, might be your prettiest diamond.

He gazes upon you fondly. Seafoam you want to drink up. Or drown in. You haven’t decided yet. He cups your round cheeks and smooths back the stray hairs slicked to your face.

“Maanejente,” he coos beneath his breath, the harsh pads of his thumbs glide over the plain of your face and down your neck, working into the knotted meat of your shoulders, “Maanejente… nothing will hurt you. Not with me here,” he wants to see your teeth in that pretty smile from last night, “You have sugar in your heart, has anyone told you that?” you bare your teeth in a grin and he feels more successful than after any battle, “We’ll press on later.”

You nod under his calm massaging, eyes drifting to the fiery lines over his right side, “I don’t have anything to make the wounds close.”

“I don’t expect anything more,” he soothes, studying you kindly. Oldegaard had such a wide, unhindered view of the skies, when he was a boy he would stare into the moon’s craters. He’d compare them from night to night and dream about a day when he would defeat a beast so great, he’d be rewarded. The thick trees of Vinushka Himself would lift Ragnvaldr high into the sky and he’d be able to study the deep caverns up close, “You’ve healed me plenty to keep fighting.”

He became a man and forgot those dreams in favor of providing for himself and his wife and their child.

But he remembers himself in his purest form and finds that he doesn’t want to part with you after taking revenge against the foolhardy Le’Garde. If you asked, he would stop fighting after that, or he could become the God of Ultra-Violence. Whichever way you please, he’ll bend.

“Maanejente, we should go.”

You move swiftly, exhaling sharply with a curt nod, “Right!” you stow away the unused green herbs, “Right, we’ll go.”

“The job your friend had taken, what was his work here?” Ragnvaldr watches you move. Your sureness and determination sway him further.

“He had to find a man,” you bury yourself into the shadow of Ragnvaldr as he unsticks the room lock, “I’m not sure of the name.”

“An important man, though,” Ragnvaldr is embarrassed how his first thought is what you’ll do if he kills the man your friend is meant to rescue, “Must be.”

You realize what he means, eyes widening, “No! It… Well… It could be…”

Ragnvaldr’s warm gaze melts into the floor tiles as he guides you through the dim hallways. Prison guards moan and gurgle in the distance and the sound used to freeze you in your spot -- it now feels like the squeaks of mice with the Northern man in front of you.

“I’m sure if he knew,” you brace, “he wouldn’t get in your way.”

Ragnvaldr pushes through to the courtyard, unveiling rows of hanged men naked and baking in the open air. Despite the fact this is, in fact, open air, the scent of death continues to cling along each blade of grass. A mist clogs your vision.

Bared skin wafting more warmth than the exposed sun, Ragnvaldr looks down at you as you clutch your measly bag. Your expression is pinched like you’ve somehow stabbed him in the back. His red hair burns like gold embers in the bathing light.

“You would let me kill the man, then?”

“He hurt you,” you answer simply. A way so unbridled by dark and evil, Ragnvaldr once again cannot comprehend your survival past the entrance guard dogs.

You discuss a stranger’s death with the comfort you would which color you prefer for robes. You have teeth unsharpened by true terror. Ragnvaldr should get you free of these walls soon.

“Sugar for a heart,” he muses.

The two of you duck under an archway and find a womanly figure in the mist. Two oblong points jut out from her skull, and the closer you get the more defined her shapes become. Firstly, is that she’s naked (Ragnvaldr chuckles when you gasp and clench your eyes shut); second is that her horned points are ears on a mask. Her voice drips like honey from behind the bunny mask,

"Welcome to the meadows, o' travelers,” she shifts closer to the wood post behind her, your eyes slicing sharply away from the sway of her breasts, “Let us ease your suffering…” your stare dawdles up over the contemplative face of Ragnvaldr, then to his injured side, “The first one is free."

“Mending of flesh,” you mutter, creeping further into Ragnvaldr’s coziness, “Sylvian will heal you, if you…”

Ragnvaldr is struck by the opportunity, wringing his hand through yours and stringing you into the scene. The expressions you can make out from under the eggshell masks are highly varied -- from twisted agony to buttery bliss to far-off stares and brainless drooling. Some bodies are limp, unmistakable from corpses aside from occasional jolts and twitches of their hips. Other bodies are more lively, rocking and humping in veracity. A man with dark hair stands in the middle, he waves the both of you over.

"Are you looking for partners?” you clutch Ragnvaldr’s hand tightly and pointedly ignore his exposed groin, and he squeezes back. The man giggles quietly beneath his mask before holding out two more, “Just take off your clothes and put on these masks."

“Come, mannejente,” Ragnvaldr pulls you away from the man, a previously unfamiliar thrumming working hot blood through his entire body. He works off his furs quickly and lifts your bag from your shoulders to lay it down, “Would you be my partner?” he smiles softly, “I’m not sure of these other people.”

His utterance curls inside you like a full meal. The thought alone makes your mouth water. He’s got meat on his bones and you want to sink your teeth into him. If he were to sleep with anyone else in this garden, you can already tell the sight would make you physically sick. You hope that he’d feel the same.

“Right,” but the dungeons are not a place for his affection for you, and even though you know you’re not made for this world -- you don’t want to make him lose sight of his mission, “Everyone else is just strange.”

“Not you,” Ragnvaldr’s hands find your shoulders again -- working slightly under the hem of your lackluster cloth shirt, “Not you.”

Ragnvaldr is big and warm like the sun. More like the sun than what hangs in the sky above. The sun you used to run under as a small girl before the crushing weight of responsibility ran you tired and nerve-sprung. You miss those days. Somehow, even though he’s directly sifting off your clothes, you even miss Ragnvaldr.

Somehow, you need him closer.

And closer you pull Ragnvaldr, right by the furs draped over his shoulder; unsurely brushing your hands under the thick material. Ragnvaldr flows under your call, shrugging off the weight of his furs as he frees you of your own clothing. Little mind is paid to either you or Ragnvaldr by the other erratic bodies, but still, their presence is off-putting. In a terrible nightmare, you could see these people being broken from their overstimulation as soon as Ragnvaldr is tucked inside you. Then their eyes would wander -- would they judge you? A newcomer unwelcomed, perhaps?

Ragnvaldr gently kisses your cheek, sweeping you up between his arms and smoothly lying you on the plush grass. He kneels between your spread legs, angling the surrounding bodies out of your vision the most he could.

“Focus on me,” he simpers, all to your ears, “Sweet girl… snill maanejente...”

You never studied the tongue of the North, figuring that it would never come into play in the West, but you could listen to Ragnvaldr ramble to himself in his mother tongue all day. His hands slide over your sides, molding into the bend of your waist before snatching you up by the hips and perching you over his bent knees.

“I- “ wind catches in your throat, hands balling on the ground, “I’ve never laid with a man before…”

Ragnvaldr nods, leaning over you with his broader form to kiss you again. On the lips this time. He leaves with a soft, chaste peck before pursing his lips and letting spit pool in his mouth and laving your cunt with the saliva. He promises to be patient while slicking a single finger inside you.

The stretch is not entirely unpleasant, a faint pinch.

“Relax for me, sweet girl,” Ragnvaldr stares down at his hand slowly pressing into the apex of your thighs, “Take a deep breath and relax. Let me take care of you, yes?”

Ragnvaldr hikes one of your thighs to his waist, continuing to fingerfuck you until you’re gasping his name. His spit is joined by your natural wetness mixing along his thick middle finger, slippery and messy: he coils a second finger into you, carefully stretching your hole. Your other thigh joins at his waist of your own volition, jerking your leg into him in the throes of bubbling pleasure.

The warmth of Ragnvaldr’s body swaddles you, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a spiral of heat down your spine. Heating your chilled blood and raging all the way into your face.

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, both hands squeezing around Ragnvaldr’s wrist as you cant your hips into his hand.

Noticing your earnest efforts to meet his fingering halfway, Ragnvaldr’s spare hand cups the flesh of your ass and pulls you higher over his lap, “Eager, maanejente?”

“Oh, please, Ragnvaldr!” you whimper, jerking onto his fingers. This begging he could get used to, “Please, please, I need you to- !” unfortunately for him, you stop that plea short, “I need you!”

“Beautiful voice for such greed,” he shadows over you, kissing and sucking the column of your throat as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock. The enveloping heat of your cunt sucks him in as though you’re starved, tightly he grasps your hips and restrains the urge to give in and press your pelvis flush to his. He may leave violet imprints, but he knows he will soothe them later so the concern is quickly pushed aside, “My sweet girl is greedy,” he whines at the squeeze around his dick, “And so lovely when I’m inside her. So pretty, aren’t you?”

Your arms loop around his neck, nails puncturing into the skin of his bare back. Heat waves through your palms and through your arms -- all down your chest and into your churning gut. Most of all, however, the heat is buzzing where the both of you are connected. His hips slotted against yours.

“Pretty when you’re working,” he lifts you from his cock before thrusting in again, building in speed until his hips are pistoning into you in smooth, fluid strokes, “Pretty when you’re fucked,” his thumb finds your soaked clit and circles it, just to pinch out as many of your whines as he can, “Pretty - hah! - pretty maanejente.”

Ragnvaldr is big and broiling hot and you don’t know if you can stand to be apart from him after this. Dungeons be damned, damned as your souls.

His cock spears each sweet spot nestled inside you: thick and full. And messy. So wet you can feel your juices webbing between where his hips meet your thighs on every pull-back.

The arm not stimulating your button of nerves rolls under you and up to the back of your neck. He secures you in his hold, pressure on the sides of your throat though not suffocating, so he can push even further inside you. Ragnvaldr kisses up from your collarbones to your jaw and finally the corner of your mouth before he huffs into your mewling lips. Your thighs tighten around him as the steady warmth of ecstasy comes to a boil.

Ragnvaldr’s tongue dips into your mouth, desperate to taste your own tongue. Try as he may to keep quiet in favor of your moans, the throaty, raw groans and grunts from his chest never cease. The sounds make you wail louder into his gaping maw as your cunt cinches around Ragnvaldr.

When he was a boy, he used to dream of being lifted by swirly branches until he could scrape the moon with his fingertips. He imagines the feeling of you cumming with him is the same, inseparable euphorias digging up from his gut and swallowing the rest of his body whole. Your teeth latched into his neck, and he is unwilling to be released.

In darkness, he finds the moon. And for now, he doesn’t need to consider how foolish it is to trap a celestial body beneath him when he’s here for Le’Garde’s bastard head. In darkness, he’s illuminated by the powdery shine he senselessly clings to.

In the same way, you bathe in a sun that feels otherwise unattainable. Large and unburdened, Ragnvaldr warms your chills with ease under a sun less desirable than his company. A muggy, clouded sun -- wholly unappealing compared to the man above you.

This affection will eat you alive down here.

You might let it.

#fear and hunger x reader #...weird tag #ragnvaldr x reader #outlander x reader #fear & hunger x reader #pls god if theres anyone out there wanting funger fics... i hope you like this...

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cherienymphe · 9 months

Text

Bejeweled (Stephen Bonnet x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: Your journey to America is turned on its head when the captain of the ship wants both your mistress' jewels...and her handmaiden, snatching both in a single night.

The large ship gently bobbed and flowed with the smooth movements of the sea. Your mistress was fast asleep, something you envied night after night. You did not get sea sick. No, never that, and you did not even detest the sea. In fact, this was your third time to travel across water, and each time prior, you had loved it. This third passage, however, included something the others had not.

The Gloriana was as beautiful a ship as any other, and you supposed that your lodgings and environment could be so much worse. There was no shortage of food, the ship was cleanly, and thus far, neither you nor your mistress had dealt with any…unscrupulous behavior. None that could be reprimanded, anyway. That thought forced you to bring your legs up onto the bed, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Captain Bonnet was an uncompromising man. He ran a tight ship, and as effective as his methods seemed to be, his authoritarian manner triggered something negative in you. It was reminiscent of your father, an equally intimidating man that would no doubt have killed you had your mistress not offered to take you under her wing as her handmaiden.

Offered was too gentle of a word, you supposed.

You looked at the other woman who was sound asleep, recalling the desperation on her face that day as she had practically begged your father to let her take you off of his hands. You had been clutching your face the entire time, eyes tearful as you fought to ignore the sting in your face. The whole ordeal had shocked you, even more so when your father finally relented. The decision brought out conflicting emotions within you.

The man was abusive, and there was no love lost there, but still. Something in you—some last shred of hope and grace—had wanted your father to hesitate, had wanted him to fight for you. You did not know why, maybe it was for the simple fact that he was your father and he should have, but your disappointment had been heavy on your body. With that being said though, you had not been able to ignore the light feeling in your chest with the reality that you would be free of him.

Of course, there had been a possibility of going into an even worse situation. You did not know your mistress then as well as you did, now, and all manner of things could have befallen you at her hand, this was true, but you had felt no fear. You remembered thinking that you could not face anything worse than you already had.

That was a truth you always held…until some days ago.

Until the day your mistress had secured passage for you both on The Gloriana.

His eyes reminded you of the sea. That was the first thought you recalled having about Captain Bonnet. They were a blue that was nothing at all like the sky, nothing calming or soft about them. They instead reminded you of the sea, of the rough waters that carried men from land to land while also taking the lives of as many as it wanted to claim. A deep blue that was meant to be feared, approached with caution.

“Just the two of ye then?”

It was not a strange question, and the question itself did not even make you uneasy. It was not even the way he said it, tone even and voice deep. It was his hyper focused gaze, the way it settled on your mistress for far too long, as if he were sizing her up. Such a look was not uncommon to see, her beauty something that anyone would take note of. However, it was the glint in his blue stare that forced you to step closer to her.

The movement had grabbed his attention, freezing you in place, and the small curve of his pink lips did not settle you. The man did not appear to be any kind of ashamed at having been caught, returning his gaze back to her. Or…more notably, her chest. You decided then that you did not like the man, and when your mistress pulled you along by the hand, turning to say something to you, the sun glinted off of the impressive jewel she always wore around her neck.

The expensive gift was eye catching, always had been, and it was then you decided that you really did not like that man.

You urged her to hide it after that, something she thankfully agreed with. Captain Bonnet struck you as an opportunistic man, and he seemed the type to not resist temptation once it was in his path. He liked pretty and shiny things, and your mistress had much of that. It was why sleep could not find you as it should while aboard the ship. America’s shores could not come fast enough, night after night witness to your lack of sleep.

“You shall be dead on your feet by the time we arrive,” the other woman said early the next morning over breakfast.

“Maybe so,” you played along with a small smile. “…but at least then I will be able to rest soundly.”

She touched your cheek at that, and as she leaned in some with the action…

You saw it.

It was a small rash, just there where her shoulder and neck met, and your heart sank at the sight. You knew it was only due to the heat in your quarters, something your mistress often dealt with when overheated, but you knew many would not see it that way. You knew of one in particular who would definitely not see it that way.

It was only a day or so ago that Captain Bonnet had thoroughly inspected anyone for any sign of smallpox. You and your mistress had been cleared, but you did not turn a blind eye to the passengers that were here one minute…and gone the next. You did not want to imagine the worst, but fear and desperation drove people to do heinous things. A ship wrought with the pox was enough to drive any man mad.

Your mistress caught sight of your own line of sight before reaching up to her neck with a small smile.

“Tis only from the heat.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “I am aware, but…”

Your words died in the air, and she caught on to what you were getting at. A brief look of discomfort colored her features before she proceeded to wrap her shawl around herself. The smile that she sent you was meant to be reassuring, you were sure, but it did not quell the worry in your heart. You thickly swallowed as she continued to eat.

“Let me go,” you suggested to her hours later when came time for your ration of water. “If Captain Bonnet catches sight of that…”

You gestured to her neck. She had looked ready to protest, but at your reminder, she slowly deflated. With a sharp nod, she allowed you to leave, and you made haste. You did not enjoy walking about the ship without her, severely uncomfortable the few times you had to, but at the moment, you were left with no choice. You could not risk your mistress being seen with that rash, no doubt in your mind as to what would become of her.

One of the Captain’s crewmen was distributing the water, the blond man observing from the side. However, when it was your turn, you were met with the sight of blue eyes instead of brown. You paused only briefly, eyeing him a bit as he fixed you with a smile. It was wrought with amusement, as if your mere presence made him laugh, and you watched him fill the pail.

“So far without your mistress?” he asked you, voice almost soft in nature.

Some of his long hair had escaped his hat, pieces falling into his face as he leaned in, and you paid mind to lean away a bit. This did not go unnoticed by Captain Bonnet, and you clutched the pail as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“She is only just in our quarters,” you told him. “Resting.”

He held your gaze, searching your eyes. For what, you did not know. You were aware that you were not alone with the man, but it certainly felt that way. Or, more importantly, he made you feel that way. Captain Bonnet seemed a bold man the way he swaggered about the ship, and the way he talked to people. He did not seem the type to be deterred by witnesses once he set his mind to do something.

…and that was what scared you.

His smile suddenly grew, the smile bleeding into his eyes a bit as they crinkled.

“Resting,” he repeated. “How very good for her.”

He pressed his hand against the bucket of water lightly, forcing you to take a small step back.

“Use it wisely,” he advised, fingers lingering on it just a tad before you finally turned away.

You did not tell your mistress of the strange encounter with Captain Bonnet when you returned. She was reading when you shut the door, setting the bucket down, and your response remained sparse when she inquired as to how it went. You checked her neck again, and she allowed you, rolling her eyes when you huffed.

“It has not gone yet,” you murmured.

“Tis only due to the heat,” she said. “It will pass in a day or two, and even then, by then we shall be at our destination.”

She sounded so sure, so optimistic, but you could not share in her enthusiasm.

Your own pleas were all that kept her holed away in your quarters, small huffs leaving her each time you reminded her she must stay until the rash was gone. There was only so much reading she could do, this you knew, but you would rather your mistress drive herself crazy with boredom than to be thrown overboard for fear of having the pox.

“Resting.”

That was what you said for the third day in a row. This time, it was to one of the crewmen instead of the captain himself. You never elaborated, feeling no need to. After all, you were her handmaiden, and it was not uncommon for someone of your status to be worked so much. That was never her way, but they did not need to know the benevolent nature of your relationship.

It worked for a time.

Until you woke up to the sound of commotion and yelling.

You were up and at the door before your mistress, keeping yourself covered as you looked down the hall with wide eyes. You could see some of the crewmen, but more importantly, you could see the tall captain among them. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, and bile turned in your gut as you realized what they were doing.

One of the passengers stood in his doorway, compliant as Captain Bonnet carefully inspected the man, turning his head which way and that. You sharply inhaled, and you were quick to retreat back into your quarters and shut the door. Your hands shook, and you could hear your mistress inquiring from behind you.

“They are inspecting passengers,” you slowly told her, heart picking up speed in your chest.

You only had another day until you reached the Americas. Why now? When you faced her, there was a bit of concern on her face, but not nearly enough. You loved her dearly, but sometimes your mistress could be very naïve about a lot of things. She softly assured you that things would be fine as you inspected her neck, noting that the cluster of bumps had diminished some, but not as much as you would have preferred.

It was just so hot on this damn ship.

You felt panicked, so unsure of how to navigate this when a knock sounded on the door.

You both froze for half a second before you urged her to lie down. She seemed reluctant, but otherwise listened to you, allowing you to pull the sheet over her body. You flinched at the sound of another knock, chest twisting painfully when you heard Captain Bonnet’s voice from the other side.

“Just a moment,” you called, rubbing your hands along the fabric of your gown.

You barely got the door open good before Captain Bonnet was attempting to force his way in. He looked equally amused and impressed as you stood your ground, jutting your chin out. One hand remained on the door, the other on the wall as you held his gaze. His pink lips were curved into the faintest of smirks, and one of his own hands joined yours on the door, fingers just shy of brushing your own.

“Captain Bonnet,” you greeted, sounding a lot surer of yourself than you felt.

He looked past you, gaze roaming over your quarters before his blue eyes met yours again. He tilted his head to the side, and you noticed then that he was without his hat, dark blond hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. The way he sized you up was almost enough to make you falter, but you merely clenched your jaw.

“Poor lass this morning had the pox,” he started, making your heart sink. “Infected about three others with her.”

He did not take his eyes off of yours as he said this.

“We got rid of ‘em quick enough.”

The confirmation of your earlier suspicions only made you feel ill, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as he continued.

“…but now we’ve got to inspect the whole ship, ye see.”

He looked as if it was such a heavy burden on his heart, but you knew better. He may have seen it as a necessary evil, but there was a part of him that reveled in having less mouths to feed. Maybe even a part of him that reveled in throwing innocent people overboard. You just knew it.

“I have no problem with that,” you finally breathed. “…but…my mistress though. The journey has been tiresome for her, and since I know her to be fine, I think it is best you let her rest.”

Captain Bonnet’s gaze was heavy, and he appeared almost impossibly still as he stood before you. He blinked, slowly looking around you, and you moved slightly to keep yourself in his line of vision.

“I shall be the judge of that-.”

“Please, Captain Bonnet, she tires easily and…”

Your words died in your throat as he stepped closer, too close, and when his fingers brushed against yours, you were quick to pull them away. So eager to be as far away from him as possible, the absence of your hand allowed for no resistance as he pushed on the door, shoving past you in the process.

“No, she is sleeping!”

You reached for his sleeve, but it was too late. Your mistress was startled by the feel of the sheet being yanked off of her, and when she sat up to face the blond man, her hair fell behind her shoulders. The reddened and raised skin was plain as day on her neck, and you felt as if you would be sick.

“No, it is merely from the heat,” you defended, attempting to get in between them. “She’s not sick!”

He was a lot stronger than he looked, a lot stronger than you, and your grip was tight on her arm as he forced her out of the cabin. Her screams of protest were loud in the corridor, almost drowning out the sound of your own pleas.

“Captain Bonnet, please,” you begged, trying in vain to force him to let her go.

With a swift jerk of his head, one of his crewmen had you by the arm, the other hand clenched painfully on the back of your neck. You gasped in pain, but it was nothing in comparison to the pain you felt at watching your mistress be dragged away. You might as well not have put up a fight, at all, with the good it was doing you. Your own name bounced off of the walls as she screamed it, your own voice mixing in as you tried to convince them that she was not sick.

Your face felt tight from all of your tears, fresh ones replacing the old ones as you were led up to the captain’s quarters. After being shoved back into your own room, you waited and waited. Hours you waited, and when your mistress never returned, you were forced to accept the horrible truth. The tears came first…and then the agonizing pain.

You had grown to love her and care for her much since you crossed paths. She had saved you, after all, and now… Now she had been swallowed up by the rough waves of the sea, disappearing into that deep, endless blue. The knowledge left a heavy feeling in your chest, a feeling that made you curl into yourself. She was gone…

…and you were alone.

What would become of you when you got to America? How would you look after yourself? Find work? Her absence left you vulnerable in so many ways, and your uncertain future was enough to make your knees weak, forcing you to practically be dragged to the captain’s cabin.

Once inside, you did not even flinch when the door was tightly shut behind you. You stared ahead at the window behind his desk, unable to focus on any presence that was not your own. You could only think about how frightened your mistress must have been, and you closed your eyes at the unwelcome visions of what her last moments had to have been like.

“It was quick.”

Your eyes slowly opened at the sound of his voice.

“…if that should bring ye any comfort.”

It did not.

“I did what must be done,” he sounded closer, now. “Rather the deaths of a few than of this entire ship, aye?”

He took his time walking by you, arm brushing your own.

“Come now,” he said in a low voice, tone meant to be comforting but it only came off as mocking. “I’m sure you will find a new mistress in no time.”

Your gaze found the floor, eyes remaining there as you felt his own gaze on you.

“Or…some other means of making your livelihood.”

You heard him take a deep breath.

“Provided you show no signs of illness, that is…”

At that, you finally lifted your gaze, tearful eyes resting on him as he leaned against the table behind him. His legs were crossed at the ankle as his hands rested on the wood at his sides, and despite the mirth in his blue eyes, his countenance was dark and serious. He tilted his head, drinking you in.

“I never did inspect ye earlier…and it sure would be a shame to get rid of a bonnie lass such as yourself.”

Both his tone and his words made you uneasy, and you pressed your trembling lips together. It was only moments ago that you felt yourself growing numb with your mistress’ absence, entertaining the thought that you did not care what happened to you. Now, however…

You were very much aware of your isolation with the captain who turned out to be worse than you initially thought.

“I…”

You struggled to say something.

“The two of you were sharing a room, after all. In such close quarters like that…it would be best to be as thorough as possible,” he told you, straightening up.

You took a step back, swallowing.

“I was already inspected by one of your men,” you argued.

It was not a lie. The man’s hands had been rough as he turned your head to inspect your face and neck, but Captain Bonnet only chuckled at your words, moving towards you. You watched him effortlessly remove his hat, smoothing his hair back with a small smile.

“Yes, well, you know what they say, lass. If you want somethin’ done right…”

He trailed off with a wave of his hand, appearing proud of himself as he moved closer. Even if this man had not murdered your mistress and friend under the guise of protecting the rest of the crew and passengers, something in you would still revolt at being so near to him with no one else around. It was as if he could see the decision in your eyes, quick to lunge for you the moment you tried to run for the door.

You winced when your back roughly met the wall.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he quietly told you. “What kinda captain would I be if I simply let you…walk out of here, mm?”

One of his hands was tight on your neck, fingers pressing into your throat as you stared past him.

“I will rest easy knowing I ‘ave seen your unblemished skin for myself.”

You trembled when his other hand came up to gently trail down the side of your face, and a glint of the light caught your eye, drawing your attention to his pinky finger…and the familiar ring it sported. All of your breath left you as you stared at the familiar piece of jewelry, recalling that your mistress never took it off. The sight of it on his hand reminded you of that first day when he had been eyeing the necklace she wore, and you realized that he lacked the last shred of decency you thought remained.

“You knew she was not sick,” you tearfully murmured, fresh tears escaping.

He lifted his gaze at that, pulling his eyes away from the top of your chest where it had lingered. His blue eyes glinted with mischief, a small smirk dancing along his pink lips as he mulled over your accusation. A low hum left him, and your throat tightened at the feel of his free hand on your waist.

“What a vile accusation,” he mused, that same hand sliding upwards over your chest. “I am simply a cautious captain.”

His expression did not match his words, the smile on his lips sickening, and you shook between him and the wall as he traced his fingers over your neck. Your gaze lifted towards the ceiling, just waiting for this to be over as he touched you in ways that were most inappropriate.

“It is unfortunate indeed what happened to your mistress, but better her than ye, aye?”

You shook your head at such a statement, jerking when his fingers danced along your leg, your gown lifting with them. When you finally had enough, reaching up to slap his hand away and push at his chest, the brief disapproval you saw in his eyes made you shrink. You pressed your back into the wall.

“Lively, you are,” he murmured, and there was almost excitement in his eyes, now. “Brave some might say…stupid, others would say…”

You were unprepared for the feel of his hand fisting into your hair, forcing you to your knees.

“…but lively is what I say.”

You gasped in pain when your forehead hit the floor. An attempt to crawl away was unsuccessful, vision blurring from tears when you felt his hand on your ankle, roughly dragging you back. You knew there was no use in screaming. The ship—and crew—belonged to him, after all. They were loyal to him, and what crewman would risk his life to come to the aid of a lowly handmaiden all alone in the world without her mistress?

Your gown tore with ease, flinching at both the sound and feel of the fabric pulling harshly against your skin before finally releasing. You could feel his callous fingers kneading into your skin as he pulled you back, the man crawling over you to trap you beneath his frame. Your feet banged against the floor as you flailed and fought to get away from him, but one swift slap subdued you enough.

Your head felt both light and heavy at the same time, the room swaying some, and you could not hold back your sobs. You felt as if it were all too much, too many overwhelming events one after the other. You tasted blood on your tongue when it touched your lip, and you shakily reached up to confirm it.

Captain Bonnet’s entry was nothing short of painful, feeling as if you were being ripped in half by the mere feel of his cock. He was rough, no hint of gentleness in his actions, at all, and your back scraped against the wood with every thrust. With no other choice, you pressed your nails into his arm, needing something—anything—to anchor yourself to.

His loud grunts filled the cabin, only rivaled by the sound of your sobs. It was impossible to focus on anything other than the feel of his thrusts, every plunge of his cock as his hips connected with yours. Each one was more painful than the last, your nails drawing blood, now, you were sure. Long strands of blond hair had escaped with the force of his movements, some of them falling down and kissing your face as he hovered above you.

You could feel your mistress’ ring cool against your skin as he held you down. The cool metal made you close your eyes, trying to push the feel of it out of your mind, but it was either focus on that or the rough actions of the man on top of you.

“Where is that lively spirit you had only moments ago, aye?”

The sound of his voice, the feel of his lips at your ear made you shudder, and you wanted him away from you. Your hands futilely pushed against his chest and arm, and when a deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, you realized that was what he wanted. Still, that did not prevent you from trying to get him off by any means necessary. You were desperate and afraid and in pain.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Put up a good fight.”

If you did not, you felt as if you were letting him win, but in doing so, you were giving him just what he wanted…and still letting hm win. You felt his teeth sink into your neck and chest, and you cried out in protest. At some point, you turned your face away completely, staring at the wall as tears cooled your face. You wanted this to be over…and quickly.

…because the sooner it was…the sooner you could put it behind you.

But Captain Stephen Bonnet was not a man content to remain in the past.

“I consider myself a fair man,” he purred into your skin. “I pay for my pleasures.”

You closed your eyes at that, feeling as if you would be sick. You just knew that even after he was done, the scent and feel of him would linger.

“A lone lass such as yourself would get eaten alive out there.”

He hummed against your skin, and you shuddered.

“Consider yourself fortunate I got my hands on you before someone else did.”

#stephen bonnet #stephen bonnet x reader #outlander fanfic #outlander imagine

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