#wild nickering
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Wild: Hoyo really hitting us with reruns of awesome for combat, exploration, and fandom favorites with a new one in the mix.
I want neuvi for combat, kazuha and wanderer for exploration, and Baizhu cuz I’m debating if I wanna main him alongside Nya since we share an account.
Looks like we’re gonna have to grind. At least we’ve barely done anything outside dailies. We’re right at the start of the Liyue story, just after we get hey buddy’d. Zhongli’s corpse is still on the table.
#and there’s less than a week left for neuvi and kaz#at least we’re guaranteed neuvi if we reach pity#nya actually wants to main zhongli he’s his favorite#we gotta get wanderer at least#furina is the only good explanation character we have unfortunately#wild nickering
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i know who you are | 7. the week
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)
WC: 7.7K
A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.
Series Masterlist
Somewhere in Northern California
It took two days.
Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.
It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.
He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.
Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.
With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.
After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.
Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?
The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.
But it was all he had.
You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.
He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.
You really fucking hurt me, Joel.
He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.
Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.
"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.
He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.
"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"
You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.
"Maybe."
You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.
"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.
"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."
He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.
"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."
You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.
"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.
"Just tired."
"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."
"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.
"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."
"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.
"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.
"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.
"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.
"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.
"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.
"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.
"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."
His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.
He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.
And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.
It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.
That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.
His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.
It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.
You didn't miss him.
Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.
There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.
But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?
And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?
"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.
He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.
He was protecting Ellie.
But he still shouldn't have lied.
With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:
You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.
You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.
Perhaps it was time to change that.
It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.
All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.
He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.
As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.
After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.
He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.
"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.
Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.
He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.
"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.
With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.
It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.
"Grant Street."
"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.
"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.
"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.
"Why's that?"
"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."
Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."
Maybe it was.
Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.
He could do this.
He was so close.
Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.
"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"
"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."
"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.
She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.
"Where's Ben?"
"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."
"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.
"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.
"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."
"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.
"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.
You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."
"Guilt?"
Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"
"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."
Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.
"Oh."
"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."
"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.
"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"
"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."
You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.
"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."
"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."
She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."
"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.
"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"
"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.
"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."
You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.
"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."
She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.
"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."
She trailed off again and cleared her throat.
"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."
A chill went down your spine and you nodded.
"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."
It ain't black and white.
"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."
"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."
When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.
"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.
The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.
Ellie was incredibly talented.
He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.
He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.
He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.
He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.
The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.
Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.
You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.
He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.
You looked so happy.
Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.
You spared my life just to break my heart.
He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.
He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.
Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.
"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"
"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."
Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.
"He's waking up."
"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.
"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"
Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.
"Fuck you."
The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.
"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.
"Don't got a camp."
"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."
He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.
"Boise."
"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.
"I told you what you wanted!"
"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?
Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.
The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.
"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."
"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"
"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.
"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."
The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.
"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.
In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.
"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.
The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.
"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"
Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.
Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.
Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.
Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.
He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.
Nothing.
"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.
With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.
It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.
He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.
He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.
Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?
"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.
The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.
Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.
He wasn't.
Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.
Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.
His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.
He finally got his sign.
"What happens when we die?"
"What?"
You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.
"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."
You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.
"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"
He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.
"Yeah, I do."
You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.
"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.
"What, darlin'?"
"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"
His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"
"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."
"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.
"Ain't nothin' better than this."
You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.
You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.
The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.
But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.
His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.
All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.
Then the rumors started.
You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.
When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.
It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.
When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.
So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.
I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.
You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.
"Went on a date the other night."
"With who?"
"Cindy, from the kitchen."
Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.
"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."
"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.
"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."
Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"
"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.
"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.
Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.
He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.
Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.
"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.
"Dunno. Something's out there."
Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.
"Maybe-"
Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.
"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.
"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.
"I got it."
"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.
"It's a horse."
"What?"
"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.
When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.
"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"
"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.
"Tell him it's Joel!"
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#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#the last of us game#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#ikwya fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou
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YOUR GRACE,
PART ONE OF THE KING AU (Part Two Here)
Pairing: King! König x Female Reader
Prompt: As a loyal soldier to your King, you follow orders without question. So when the King asks you to kneel— you do as told.
Words: 3k
Warnings: The dirtiest thing I’ve ever wrote— voyeurism, public sex, dacryphilia, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, cum eating, p in v sex, creampie, unprotected sex, biting.
A/n: König literally means king in German, so we shall play this to our advantage. I’ll be in the corner where I belong if you need me.
MINORS DNI
It was simply disgusting outside. Mud had caked upon your boots, and the blood of your enemies you viciously killed still painted your armor. You looked every bit as wild on the battlefront as you did after victory.
Your breath frosted in the air, a shiver overtaking. You looked forward to taking a warm bath heated by the fire you had already started back in your tent.
That was before you were interrupted by one of the King’s servants, his face reddened upon glancing at your bare breasts, your armor long stripped. Luckily you hadn’t slid out of your trousers, but it was simple to say you were irritated.
You hastily pulled your furs back over your upper half, grumbling at the feeling of clothing upon your back and not hot water.
You shouldn’t have let frustration get the best of you, yet as you marched towards the other side of camp, everything managed to piss you off. Screaming soldiers fighting for rations, horses nickering too loudly, and men that couldn’t help but stare.
“You got a fucking staring problem?” You snarled at a particularly small soldier, who gulped in alarm when he caught the vicious glare you sent him.
A little chuckle broke out from behind you, and your heart leapt out of your throat when you realized it was your King.
His massive form was always a sight to see, except this time he looked even more terrifying. He seemed taller in his armor of glowing silver. Unlike most Kings, he fought amongst his men, so instead of untouched metal, his breastplate was splattered in red and mud. Even his signature hood he wore in battle was smeared with drying blood.
His arm was flexed upwards, holding up the cloth door of the council’s tent. Several men were already inside, all councilors of the senate, none that fought in the battle. You curled your lip.
“Play nice, Maus…” he purred, ushering you inside. You had to admit that the warmth of a fire felt nice against your face, the small shiver of your back disappearing.
“Right…” Your king sat upon his makeshift throne of forged steel, large enough to fit his massive form and have plenty of room to spread his legs wide before him. You sat next to him, and if it wasn’t for the bluntly obvious General’s cloak you wore, it could almost be assumed you were in a Queen’s throne. You sat close together, as you always did in briefings.
It wasn’t hard to guess the affairs the King had with you. Often times the guards would catch you sneaking out of his quarters, your sloppy gait and wrinkled dress being enough evidence to guess the steaming affair. He found joy in the hunt, something he made very clear when his face was pressed to your weeping cunt as his hand muffled your screams of pleasure.
“Are you listening, Girl?” A senator broke you away from your inner turmoil, your sour mood coming back in full force.
“I apologize, sir, but I think you meant General. Not Girl.” Your bite didn’t go unnoticed by the other senators, they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. König let out a little sigh of amusement.
“At ease… we are just starting. She has not missed anything important.” König diffused the situation, and you fell back into your chair with a huff. You’d rather be anywhere than speaking politics with these slimy pricks. You were a warrior, not a peacemaker.
“What is not important is a woman among our ranks. Let alone one that simply serves purpose to warm your bed.” The senator seethed, and you merely smirked at his comment. König would not tolerate this insolence, it would be fun to watch this play out.
Panicked whispers broke out amongst the senators as König stood. His height was scary in its own, but as he towered in a silent anger, he looked even more menacing. His steps were calculated, stalking towards the conquered sand table right in front of the unruly senator.
“You’re so tense.” König joked as his palms fell upon the little man’s shoulders, like claps of dark thunder. Your eyes twinkled as he clamped down.
“I apologize, sire.” The senator squeaked, although the bitter laugh that escaped the giant’s throat made him even more pale. “I shouldn’t be the one you apologize to, but I doubt whatever you come up with would be sincere.”
“I can apologize to the General…” he squirmed, the situation already making you revel in joy, but when your King bent his knee you grew more satisfied, your mouth watering.
“I won’t hurt you… tell me something, senator?” König’s voice cut across the tent, eerie silence replacing his growl.
“Anything.”
“Have you ever felt a pretty woman’s mouth against your cock?”
It was silent, you felt your own heart rate pick up at the question. The silence was enough of an answer, König laughed, deep and threatening. He crouched lower, his eyes level with the senator, his hood still terribly covered in blood. He reached down, pulling a singular dagger from his boot, before placing it against the base of the quivering man’s throat.
“I’m pretty big, she chokes on it most times, but occasionally…” König tilted the dagger down, against the hollow of the man’s throat. “I’ll open her up just right, and her pretty, tight, throat can take all of me to here.” He tapped the flesh, a wicked glint in his eyes as he stood straight again.
“Everyone out! Except you…” His blade stayed planted against the senator’s throat. His eyes happily watching as the council scrambled out of the tent.
“Don’t go far… I plan to have a meeting after I take care of this issue,” he yelled as they left. He sheathed his dagger, a soft pat was placed on the senator’s shoulders.
König stalked back to his throne, his eyes uncharacteristically soft as they met your own steeling ones.
“Come here, darling.” He purred again, you imagined the plunge in your gut was a lot different than the one the senator had felt. You rose from your chair, casting a quiet glance at the senator before stopping a few inches in front of the King.
You knelt respectfully, a gesture that made König’s eyes flash as he glanced down on you through his hood.
You could practically see his teasing smirk through the dirty canvas.
He reached out, his palm resting upon your cheek, then lower to the warm skin of your neck. His touch was like glowing embers, always the one to set you on fire.
“You see this? So very loyal to the King, something I wish for my councilmen as well.” His eyes burnt holes into the senator, a wicked swirling of pleasure beneath his commanding eyes. His palm rubbed smoothing circles against your skin, keeping you grounded and focused on his massive form. You hummed at his compliment, allowing a chuckle to escape the King’s throat.
“She likes to be praised and she treats me so well. Say something nice about her, senator.” König demanded from his throne, his legs still spilled wide as he pulled you gently between them, slotting your kneeling form against the tight muscles of his inner thighs.
“She fights well.” He squeaked like a timid mouse, König tutted, obviously unhappy with the response.
“No, no. About her appearance, like how sweet her cunt tastes, or how pretty she looks kneeling.” His words made you clench around nothing, but you didn’t dare move from your position, your eyes still locked and wavering at his hood.
“She has pretty eyes…” he mumbled, barely loud enough for König to hear. He laughed slightly, a gruff chirp that shook his wide chest.
“Such a pathetic compliment, it’s a wonder why you’ve never got your cock wet, hmm?”
The senator whined, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation, but you didn’t pay much mind, your stare falling to your King’s open thighs, where his cock lay tight against his pants.
König chuckled again, the sound musical as he petted upon your hair. “Those pretty eyes are staring at my cock like she’ll go hungry. I feed her well, keep her satisfied and by my side.” His hand patted upon the crown of your head repeatedly—a waiting game.
“But you won’t get to look at her pretty eyes.” König reached to his face, pulling upon his battle-worn hood, he dropped it to the ground with a dull thud.
He was ethereal in a way, simply like a God you had bent your knee for. His messy hair a color of the sun when it set— a dull warm orange. His nose was long and crooked, likely from breaking the cartilage in battle. His face was angled and stern, as if he was a spring ready to snap. His pupils were blown, you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or lust.
He fumbled with his belt, pulling upon the leather material until it hung loosely upon his waist. Finally, he leant back against the chair, his eyes finding the senator’s in disgusting pleasure.
“You know what to do, Maus.”
It was all you needed as a sign to reach your nimble fingers beneath his waistband, pulling down upon his trousers until his half-hard cock displayed in front of your face. You felt no shame as you clutched upon his massive shaft, your fingers barely wrapping around the sheer girth of him.
“Don’t look away, senator… I’ll spoon out your eyes if you do.” He rumbled, just as you pumped him once.
König was definitely putting on a show, releasing a deep sigh that came from his stomach. You knew then that he wouldn’t go quietly, your King was going to be loud, and no one would dare stop him.
“She’s good with her fingers, but near euphoric with her tongue.” He glanced down to you, cradling your jaw before lowering you down to his weeping head, a soft bead of precum leaking from him.
“Come now, darling… you’re being shy.”
With a amused huff you parted your lips, running your tongue down the shaft of his cock, nearly smiling as König hissed. That was real, not just a loud and absurd noise of punishment for the senator.
His hips pushed against your mouth, impatiently rutting his cock deeper down your throat, barely giving you enough time to open wide enough that your teeth wouldn’t scrape against his warm skin.
He pressed against the back of your throat, despite his battle worn body, he’d always tasted of bittersweet cherry wine, maybe it was because he drank so much of it. Always a goblet in his hand when you’d be in his quarters, a book slotted in his other hand. He’d often enjoy a glass while you sat on his lap, doing his best to read you the passage as you warmed his cock.
He jerked up again at your dazed expression, the fleshy walls of your throat gagged around his throbbing head, not being able to take the stretch.
“Shhhh… you hear that senator? Hear her struggle on my cock?” His massive paw wrapped around your head, pulling you back slightly, letting you catch your breath.
“Say she’s beautiful. Say she’s the most gorgeous woman in the whole kingdom. I want you to look at her when I cum down her throat, so every time you stroke yourself with that pathetic hand, you’ll think of my cock…” he brought you down upon him again, except this time you were ready.
“Fuck…”
Your nose hit the soft edge of his pelvis, tears welling in your eyes as he stretched your jaw to an extreme he hasn’t ever reached before.
“She’s beautiful…” the senator quietly squirmed as König’s fiery stare glared back at him. “And she’s all mine, the only woman that warms my bed.” With a final thrust, and your ears ringing at the praise, you tightened just enough for him to spill his seed against the back of your throat.
Your King’s soft whine of pleasure the only thing that propelled you to swallow every last drop of him, despite how much it truly was.
“What a good girl, she swallowed all of me. Not like some common whore you’d have to pay for, hmm?” His fingertip traced under your lip, gathering up your sticky saliva and a drop of him you missed. He fed it to you in a satisfied stupor, obviously his orgasm had fatigued him. Yet, his eyes still swirled with lust, you knew this was far from over.
“Leave, senator. If I hear you even breathed a slight word about my General again, I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs.”
The senator sighed in relief, eyes lowered to the ground as he hastily bowed, leaving the tent in such an embarrassed state you hardly noticed as König hauled you to your feet before settling you against his knee, his eyes playful as he regarded you.
“I think my most prized subject deserves an award, no?”
You pretend to think about it, your mind airy from all of the praise you’ve just received. With a sure hand you reached out, connecting with his jaw. Auburn stubble had begun to sprout amongst his cheeks, showcasing the time spent fighting amongst camp instead of his warm keep.
“There will be others, a lot more distasteful than him.” You warned. König sighed, paws squeezing upon the soft furs bunched on your waist.
“Let them talk. Let them listen…”
His hand wrapped upon the back of your neck, pulling you into his chest until you were tight and straddled against his waist, the cold armrests of his throne digging into your legs.
He wasted no time in kissing your swollen lips, reveling in pleasure as he tasted himself upon your tongue.
He was hot and warm, a summer day in the contrast of the icy battle that had raged earlier. It made you yearn to be under his furs in his bed back home, tucked into his side like some precious jewel. Shivers erupted down your back when he nudged his nose against your chin, allowing him space to sink his teeth lightly in the flesh of your collarbone. You ground down against his bare cock, he grunted at the friction.
You gasped when his hands squeezed underneath the soft parts of your thighs. Effortlessly, your King pulled you up in his arms, never breaking away from your neck as he sucked against the flesh. Still, he knew exactly where he was going, because in a few steps he had you laying flat against the sand table, pieces of wooden carved castles and crests scattering across the surface.
“You looked so pretty sucking my cock, Maus. Never wanted to fuck you more, fill you until you cried,” you gasped, and in one fluid motion König had your trousers down and thrown on the dirty ground. Your bottom half exposed to the nipping cold.
“Never done anything like that with someone looking…” you mumbled, not that you felt self-conscious, but the fact that König would display to the world that you were his.
“Think I’m embarrassed of you?” He teased, before falling to the dirt just as you had previously done. You clenched, watching as the man you served would now serve you.
“Of course not.” You aired out, tilting your chin down to glance at his eyes, rounded in dark sultry glow.
“Good. Because they’re going to hear you, and they’ll know just how good I make you feel,” he growled, before snatching your hips, pulling them against his awaiting lips. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you release a humiliating moan from the warmth of him.
He set to work immediately, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, just as he sucked down hard upon your clit. You jerked, slamming your eyes shut while whining unapologetically when he crushed your pelvis back down against the cold table.
“Sit still, Maus…” he pulled away a moment, slick glistening to his lips as he licked them greedily. He hummed, “you taste divine, you want me to continue?”
“Yes, Your Grace…” you mumbled in a drunk euphoria, barely hearing his growl as heaved your legs upon his shoulders and dipped lower, licking and suckling upon you again. Enough that you were seeing stars, vision nearly black as he added a thick digit against your clenching walls.
It squelched against the tightening flesh, causing a deep moan to flex from your throat, and a hum of approval to fall from König’s lips, the vibration sending you over your edge. He added another finger, wallowing in pleasure as he stretched you.
He sucked in a deep breath of air, “that’s it darling, cum around my fingers, I want to taste it.” You tightened around him, seeing black as you felt yourself unravel, pure bliss falling from your lips as he lapped up everything you gave. He kissed the inside of your thighs, the touch like fire, burning and burning until you were nothing left but ashes.
He slipped his fingers away, the loss of contact making you whine pathetically. Oh, how easy it was to fall into the spell of him.
He laughed, a joyous sound, if it wasn’t for your quivering form. You needed more than just his fingers, and judging by the twinkle in his stormy eyes, he knew it too. He stood tall, his shadow falling over you like a blanket.
“What’s wrong, Maus?” He quipped, sharp canines glowing against the roaring fire in the distance. He knew exactly just how much this was getting to you. How his own fingers were shaking with primal desire, how he needed to plant into you and seek delicate shelter.
Your legs instinctively spread wider, allowing his hips to slot between them. With a slow hiss he stroked himself, your own eyes growing wide at the sheer girth of him, fully hard and wanting. He was always one to split you in two, a precious stretch just for him.
He taunted, gliding back and forth against your slick, up and down, again…again. Just as you were about to tearfully beg he breached your hole, a grunt leaving his lips before his head fell back in desperation.
“Fuck darling… so tight.” He pushed in slightly, half of him clamped and yielding to you. The burn was delicious, just as his hands were when they found purchase of your clothed breasts. He kneaded, just as he pulled out slightly again.
A sharp cry echoed the tent as he pushed back in— a wicked snap of his hips that made you moan. He rutted deep, one hand pressing into the table near your head, his eyes locked on your furrowed features.
“Eyes open, Maus.” He commanded, and you did as you were told, eager to please the King. Your teary eyes flooded with a jerky thrust, the tip of his head hitting your womb. It was pure instinct to wrap your legs around him, allowing him a deeper angle to ravage.
He was every bit a King. His size, his intelligence, his cock. It all dulled in comparison to any other man or woman. A true man of unwavering power.
“You hear her crying on my cock?” He yelled out into the tent, releasing a growl of his own as his cock began to twitch your gummy walls.
Whispers erupted from outside of the tent, some of the senators even commenting on how they did hear, just to please the King’s ego. It only made you moan louder, as his hips snapped even faster at their whispers.
Your hands found purchase around his cloak of woven velvet, roughly pulling at the material until you reached the warm skin of his shoulder blades, the high nearly reaching you as you rose upwards, your nails tearing into his flesh.
The only wound he’d received from his conquest.
“That’s it. Cum on your King’s cock,” he growled, losing himself just seconds after you began to clench, seeing stars in the most delightful way.
You were never one to disobey his orders.
He was never one to deny you pleasure.
With a cry, your walls closed around him, just as he pulled you tight against him, his thrusts sloppy as he rode you off your orgasm. Only seconds later did he pull you into a bruising kiss, your own mouth swallowing his moan as he spilled warm seed inside you, coating your walls in a way of pure unadulterated bliss.
He kissed you, long and slow, not daring to break your connection until he wiped your tears built from shared pleasure.
He was simple nirvana in the form of a man.
You silently whined when he pulled back, his little hiss of relief only making your eyes grow wider in admiration. He knelt again, his stare falling between your legs to your battered cunt, completely and utterly full of him.
He chuckled, reveling in ecstasy at your spent state, and all you could do was stare. With a curious finger, he pushed his seed back into your womb, a glint in his eyes as you moaned out to him at the breach.
“Love to see you full, darling. Maybe the seed will take, hmm?” His words jarred you, so crude yet delicious at the same time. Just as he was.
“They’d be bastards.” You couldn’t help but slur, eyes finding your ripped trousers in the mud.
König’s eyes twinkled as he did up his belt again, an amused look on his face as he tossed you his cloak. It would be enough to get you back to your warm bath. Forget the fuckin’ council.
The giant’s swollen lips quirked upwards, his steps sure as he reached against the table, pulling a long piece of parchment from a draw. With an outstretched hand, he gave it out to you.
You read it over, again and again. Eyes widening more each time you reread. In shock you stood, attempting to ignore the shake in your legs from excitement and from earlier pleasures.
A declaration.
“Marriages are sacred in Royalty. You know that. But being a King also makes you a conquerer, conquering means new land. Land means area to rule. I can make whoever I want royalty on said land,” He rumbled, his chest pressed to your back, just as he pushed back your hair, placing a searing kiss upon your neck.
“How would it feel to be a Queen? My Queen.”
Tags: @mykneeshurt @soapyghost @fante-di-denari
#fuck I don’t know how to end smut#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#modern warfare#König#konig#könig x reader#könig smut#konig x reader
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Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 8
(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)
(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)
(Masterlist)
Word count: 5.7k
Rating: Mature
Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Mating/Claiming Bites, Witch Hunts, Angst, Whump
Warnings: None
The tick of the hours until sundown echoes in your ears as you near Laswell’s cottage.
Normally you’d stop just shy of the clearing to breathe in the familiar scent of burning birch, of the nearby stream, relishing the sunlight that feels brighter here than in the village. Now, sunshine hardly escapes the damp cover of gray that obscures the sky, making the afternoon already feel so dark. The sun has passed its zenith, and soon darkness will descend on these woods, ensnaring the souls that live here as the monster lifts its blood-streaked muzzle to the hanging, yellow moon.
You’re running out of time, and now the lives of you, of Laswell, and König all hang in the balance.
The witchers’ mares nicker anxiously as you trot the remaining distance to the cabin, tied to a post and already saddled. From behind them appears Soap, fully adorned in his armor, sword at his side.
“Hen!” He breathes with a rush of relief, closing the distance between you and sweeping you into an embrace before you can protest. “Price was about t’ send a search party for you. Thank goodness yer alrigh’.”
You wrap your arms around Soap’s middle eagerly, pressing yourself to his front with an unsteady exhale. You can feel your heart hammering in your ribs unevenly, and with each beat you feel the minutes thin until your world is irreversibly changed.
“Laswell-” You gasp, clutching at the metal bracers on his forearms. “Where is she?”
Soap’s brow furrows deeper in worry, eyes glinting with confusion at your sudden frantic energy.
“Inside,” He responds quickly. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head, push past him towards the door, Soap’s concerned voice trailing after you. You all but burst into the cottage, finding Price and the others bent seriously around a map splayed across Laswell’s kitchen table. They look up with surprise at your abrupt entry, taking in the sight of you with your chest heaving and eyes wild.
“Red?” Laswell asks, straightening and turning towards you, her wise gray eyes alight with anxiety at your frazzled state. “What-”
She’s cut off as you take two large strides towards her, wrapping your arms around her slender frame and breathing out a shuddering sigh. Laswell makes a small noise of surprise, stiffening before she forces herself to relax and return the embrace.
You swallow thickly, throat dry as you try to reassure yourself. It’s alright. Laswell is safe. The others are here, they won’t let the villagers hurt her. They’ll keep you both safe.
Laswell pulls you back so she balances you by your forearms. Your eyes feel too warm, threatening tears as you struggle to find the words to explain the panic inside you.
“You need to leave.” You tell her at last, voice shaking. “The others- the ones in the village, they’re- tonight, they said-”
“Hey, hey, slow down.” Gaz urges quietly as he appears at your side, a featherlight touch at your shoulder. “Deep breath.”
You nod, face warm as you heed his words and force yourself through a trembling exhale. You look up at Laswell once more, feeling the grip on your arms tighten as you speak.
“They’re going to burn us both.”
Silence descends upon the cabin.
You see the fear dawn in Laswell’s eyes, and feel it shake it to your core.
Laswell is never afraid. Worried, yes, in her quiet way where she’s analyzing, considering, lifting her face to the wind to understand its direction. She always has a plan, always has a way out, a secondary escape. To see this, to see fear...
“Kate-” Price tries as Laswell wobbles on her feet, allowing you and Gaz to help her into a nearby chair as she presses a hand to her face. Price hovers at her shoulder, lays a hand there as the wise woman bends her head in distress.
“I knew there were murmurs in the village.” She confesses at last, voice hoarse. “There’s always been murmurs, but-”
You kneel at her side, red cape spilling across your form as you hold her hand. She turns it over, curls her fingers around yours in a wordless acknowledgment. She looks up at Price, and you see his pinched expression as a mirror of her own.
“I thought perhaps summoning you all would prove to them I’m an ally, not an enemy. It seems I was wrong.”
You clutch her hand tighter, and Kate turns her gaze to you, lifting a hand to pet at the hood of your cloak.
“You too?” She asks, and despite the fondness there’s a grief, a heartache. “Even though you’ve lived here all your life?”
You clasp her hand to your cheek, relish the warmth against your frigid skin.
“They never wanted me, Kate.” You whisper with a sad smile. “They never will.”
Kate’s eyes are full of sorrow.
“Come with us.” Soap blurts out, still standing near the open door, allowing cold air to sweep inside. “After we kill the wolf. We can keep you safe, take you somewhere else.”
Yes. Leave with them, travel alongside these men you’ve come to trust, enjoy the company they keep. Go with Laswell towards a new horizon, have her keep you as the family she’s always been to you. Perhaps learn her trade, take over her craft and grow into the same woman you’ve always admired. Stay somewhere safe and keep a hearth warm for the traveling knights who have become your friends.
Yet your words from naught but a few hours before linger tight in your throat, an oath that tangles around your heart like the quiet interwoven braids of a daisy chain.
“Then, once it’s over, we’ll leave these woods. Together.”
Leave him? After everything?
Your face falls. Kate’s hand stills.
“Red?” She echoes cautiously, and you bend your face to her lap, gripping the folds of her skirt, feeling your eyes warm.
You close your eyes, force yourself to swallow down the grief in your throat and at last sway to your feet. The motion loosens the hood from your head, gently pooling onto your shoulders. Cool air washes across your nape, and you shiver, staring down at your boots as you try to collect yourself before you speak.
Before you can, you feel a presence shift behind you, hear a small suck of air as a gloved hand reaches out to graze your skin.
"What is this?" Soap asks suddenly from behind you, and you stiffen under his touch. His hand grazes aside the fabric of your cape, revealing the tender flesh of your shoulder where the bruising indent of Konig’s teeth lays against your skin. "...Red?"
The bite mark.
You slap a hand over the bruise before you can stop yourself, eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. You turn to look up at Soap, only to catch the fright that etches clear across his expression.
"Wh-what-" He tries in his shock, and the room goes silent.
"Red?" Laswell asks from beside you gently, cautiously, reaching forward to lay a reassuring hand on yours.
You draw back as if you've been burned.
It's too obvious, but you can't help it. Soap looks at you with something in his eyes akin to fear, gaze flickering desperately between your face and your hand covering the bite.
"Lass-" he tries, but his voice is a croak in his throat.
"Soap."
Five sets of eyes, including your own, turn to Price. He's halfway risen out of his chair at the head of the table, eyes staring not at the Scot but at you.
"I-it's a bite." Soap manages, gesturing to you, looking lost.
“I-I can explain.” You stammer, eyes wide, backing up to put distance between yourself and the group, even as Soap gently stretches a hand towards you. Warmth burns across your face, mortification at being revealed as the temptress you’ve been accused of.
The group is silent, wide-eyed as they watch you hesitate near the hearth. There’s worry and fear there- but beyond that there’s trust, a conviction that you will confess to them the truth.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.” You admit, eyes traveling to each of the men in turn. Kate’s eyes are kind even though she does not yet know the secret waiting in your chest. Ever loving, ever accepting, Kate. Your beloved friend.
“I-” You try. “There’s someone waiting for me.”
Confusion fills the faces of the four men gathered around you. You look at them, then to Kate once more.
“His name is König.” You begin. “I found him in the woods, injured. He was bitten by the wolf. I took him in, nursed him back to health, and I-” The words come tumbling forth, a secret at long last revealed. Yet you pause when you get to the confession of your love affair, the feelings you harbor for the man who slept with you in his arms.
“He was bitten?” Ghost cuts you off, voice urgent, grave. “When?”
“Weeks ago now.” You clarify. “He’s- he’s deformed. I mean, I haven’t seen his face, but he wears a hood to conceal his face. He was hiding in the woods because he couldn’t come close to town. He was afraid of the villagers.” You blink, look down towards the floor with a mirthless smile. “I can hardly blame him.”
“I found him the day after you arrived. He was injured, could barely walk because of the bite on his leg. I-I couldn’t just leave him there. He would have died.”
The group around you is silent, weighing your words. it’s almost eerie, the way there’s no questions. Looking down as you are, you can’t see the looks exchanged between them, a silent conversation unfolding before you.
At last, Price steps closer, closing the distance so he gently balances you by your forearms. He holds you there, tucks a gently gloved hand under your chin so you look up into his eyes.
“You kept this a secret.” He murmurs, and you grimace at his tone. Stern, comforting, but beneath it- hurt. There’s a pain in his eyes that stabs at your chest, and you recall his gentle hand at your back, the way he’d secured your arms around your middle as you rode with him, his soft entreaty towards your safety. The kindness of his words then haunt you, cast in sharp contrast to his current voice.
“I...was worried you’d hurt him, chase him away.” You answer softly. “He’s a vagrant, a traveler. He’s been chased from villages before because of his deformity. I was afraid you’d do the same, and...and leave him to the mercy of the wolf.”
“I...couldn’t let that happen.” You go on, voice hardly a whisper. “You haven’t met him yet, but he’s gentle and kind. He’s protective and strong and we can talk for hours about all things. He’s told me about his travels, about stories he’s heard. He’s caring and sweet and makes me feel safe and warm and-”
Price stiffens, swallows.
“You love him.” He states, and it isn’t a question, but you nod all the same, ducking your head to avoid watching the hurt blossom deeper against his gaze. Guilt clenches sharply inside you, sours your mouth into a grimace of despair.
“He bit you.” Gaz observes quietly from the other side of the room, voice full of a grief you don’t understand. You turn to him, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing to try and explain. Yet all that escapes you is a small agreement, a confession in hardly a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Price.” Ghost says suddenly, and Price turns from you to his second in command, hands leaving you. Ghost stares intently at his captain, and you watch Price drag a weary hand over his face before he adjourns your conversation to approach Ghost in low, hushed tones you don’t hear.
“Red.”
Your attention is instead brought back to Laswell, who stands, draws near and gently gathers you closer to her, tilting your head to examine the bruise along your neck. Her hands tremble as they ghost over the mark, and you watch the way her smile of reassurance doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Did it hurt?” She asks soothingly, and you pause, shake your head.
“No- well, yes, but not too much.” You answer plainly, and it only deepens the worry in her eyes in a way you don’t understand.
“You agreed to it?” She asks, tone firmer.
“Yes- Kate, what is this?” You ask with a mixture of confusion and concern, but before she can answer you only shake your head instead. “Never mind that. Kate, König is sick. He has a terrible fever. He was all but delirious when I left, he couldn’t even stand. You have to help him.”
Kate pauses at that, and then shifts so she grips you by your arms with sudden urgency.
“Where is he now?” She asks sharply, and you blink at her, startled by the sudden fixation of her gaze upon yours.
“I-In my cottage, in the village.” You stammer. “Wh-”
“John.” Kate speaks, moving away from you, and you make to follow, only to pause as Ghost turns from them both and towards you instead. There’s a heavy set to his shoulders as he steps forward, and it feels all for the world like a promise of danger. You flinch away from it, hand once again raising towards your neck, something instinctual forcing you to conceal the evidence of König’s claim on you.
Ghost pauses where he stands, instantly freezing at your response. When he approaches again it's softer, gentler, as if he's trying to tame a trapped, scared animal. He doesn't speak as his hands stretch an inch forward, just enough to placate you as you tremble, legs weak with uncertainty. You can barely see the darks of his eyes from behind his mask. Yet his posture radiates gentleness, a beckoning of trust, safety, allowing him to come closer.
"You're alrigh'." He murmurs softly as his hands smooth up your shoulders, gently tugging the tie of your cape so he can scoot it to the side. You try to refuse him when his grip gently pries away your hand covering the wound, but Ghost offers you a graze of his thumb on the inside of your wrist, making you go lax against his touch.
He doesn't make a sound when the bite is revealed, doesn't move to touch the bruise lest it hurt you. All he does instead is continue to rub a gentle circle into your wrist, offering a little hum of reassurance before he turns, looks at Price.
He nods. Price’s face falls open with a despair you long to understand.
You look up at Ghost, meeting his eyes through his mask. There’s questions left unspoken in your gaze, but you know from his eyes alone he won’t answer them. You try to understand why the group is suddenly so grim, why Laswell, Soap, Gaz and Price whisper to themselves and cast furtive glances in your direction. Why the secrecy?
You’re so tired of secrets. You’ve been keeping your own for so long, only to find König keeping his in turn. Now that you’ve confessed, your friends have only turned away from you, discussing amongst themselves in words you can’t hear. You want to raise your voice, bat at Ghost’s chest, demand answers that they will not yield. The forest holds all things quiet, a hushed, damp softness that curls within the morning mist, obscuring shapes shifting between the trees.
Price sighs from the council gathered in the corner, rubbing his face once more before speaking.
“Right.” he announces, voice suddenly filling the cottage with an authoritative declaration. “We’re going back to the village. The werewolf will likely attack there after dark. Laswell will see to Red’s vagabond. Soap, Gaz-” He looks towards his second in command. “You’re with me. Ghost, I want you with Laswell and Red. I don’t want a single person that isn’t in this room to set foot inside Red’s cottage, understood?”
“Understood.” Ghost replies firmly and settles a hand on your shoulder in a silent reassurance, a promise of protection.
Laswell shoots the younger man a warm smile at the gesture, but you can only nod, thoughts once more drifting to the feverish man writhing in your bed back in the village.
“I want everyone geared up in five minutes.” Price goes on, arms crossed, letting his gaze weigh on each of you in turn. “We are leaving, and we’re going to slay this monster once and for all.”
He turns then, reaching for his sword that lays across the map on the table. He pauses for just a moment to look at you once more, mouth a grim, thin line before he vanishes outside into the growing mist that keeps all secrets, even those in your heart.
----
Four sets of thundering hooves race through the trees as the six of you bolt back in the direction of the village. The sun hovers near the horizon, and with every growing moment it dips closer towards darkness. The moon is already rising, obscured by the trees but hanging heavy in its fullness. The mist of the dim forest swirls around you as the horses gallop down the same path you once saw this monster, with its towering stature and gleaming golden eyes. Then, like now, you had clasped tightly to Price’s back, casting terrified glances over your shoulder to find the shadow that lurked just beyond the tree line.
As nighttime falls, you wait for a lachrymose howl to carve up into the sky.
You lift your face towards the wind, will the mares impossibly faster, urging them into a sunset flight as the hour darkens, as König lays waiting in your cottage. Helpless, feverish, perfect prey for a monster to claw through the door, lift him to its waiting, dripping jaw.
The memory of your dream, of König’s scream slicing through the midnight forest and urging you to run, run pulses in tandem with your heartbeat, a wild canter just with the deafening fall of hoofbeats against the woodsy, damp earth.
König reaches for you again, and the warning he calls out to you is muffled by the thunder of your heartbeat. You catch his eyes, his gaze bright with fear. Gone are the soft green irises that speak to you with warm familiarity, replaced down with an eerie, glowing, gleaming gold that mirrors the light of the moon above.
“John!” Laswell’s voice cuts through your reverie, and you cling tighter as Price urges his horse to a halt, the others steadying their own mounts to a stillstand. Laswell gazes out from behind Gaz, brow drawn tight beneath her own dark cloak.
“What is it?” Price prompts quickly, voice dragging in a gruff growl as his mare circles uneasily under you both. You cling tighter to his waist, fingers clenching uneasily against the leather straps of his armor.
“Look.” Laswell gestures, and the five of you follow her outstretched hand up above the trees, where a wisp of dark smoke snakes a tendril against the gray sky. You blink, lips parting as the acrid smell of smoke suddenly floods your nose. It’s not uncommon to smell chimney smoke as you enter the village, but the heavy, charred scent of something burning seizes sharply in your lungs with a cold wash of fear.
“The village.” You breathe, looking to Price with wide, startled eyes. “The village is burning.”
Price looks down at you, and there’s only a momentary flash of surprise before his expression once more settles into a grim resolve.
“Hold tight.” He announces to you, and then to the others: “Quickly!”
Once more he urges the mare under him into a full gallop, and you cling helplessly to his back, your only anchor from the rock of the horse under you. You scrunch your eyes shut, thoughts racing alongside the sprinting hoofbeats as you imagine the town engulfed in flames, of a pyre awaiting you and Laswell, the sparks floating up towards the moon.
Clouds lurk darkly against the horizon, warning of a coming storm. As you all race towards the village, the wind begins as a gentle breeze, only to rise to a full howl as it rustles through the trees. Inky dark clouds obscure the orange haze of sunset like charcoal, and the horizon is painted with embers that you pray you don’t find of the town you once loved.
The village comes into view as you round the final bend, just as Price and the others did all that time ago when they first came to you. Atop their dark steeds, they’d gazed down at your scarlet form, and had chosen you to guide them through the woods.
"Go on then, Rotes Mädchen."
How long it has been since then. So much has happened. The wolf, König, the villagers, the promise of a burning hellfire, and now the full moon rising as an abraxas curse above you all.
König waits for you in the burning village, and you pray once more to the Gods that he’ll honor his oath, that he’ll be there once you return, whole and safe.
I promised I would go with you. You whisper inside the gale of your thoughts. Don’t make me break that promise.
At first glance the village appears whole and intact, the houses boarded with their shutters closed, hastily made barricades sheltering barns and stables. There’s not a soul that peeks from the windows as the six of you circle in the town center near the well, and it isn’t until Soap’s despairing, quiet murmur that you understand what’s truly wrong.
“Oh no.” He whispers, barely audible above the nickering of his mare. “Oh, Red.”
You follow his gaze, and feel your whole world turn to ash.
“NO!!” You scream, quickly sliding from Price’s saddle-
and bolting in the direction of your home set ablaze.
Laswell calls after you, but you heedlessly disobey her warning, legs pumping under you, hood flying from your head as you run in the direction of your burning cottage. There’s a crowd gathered just beyond your front gate, and among them are men holding pitchforks, hoisting them high and chanting a curse towards the clouds that roil dark and mysterious against the rising moon. As you near one of them turns, shouts to his compatriots. You ignore them, trying to push them aside to run up the path to your home, to the place you left your beloved resting fitfully in the bed where he had embraced you.
“NO!!” You shriek as one of them catches you around your waist, an arm stretching out in the direction of the cottage. Flames erupt from the windows, smoke billowing from the ceiling, and your own scream is muffled by the cracking of wood, like bones breaking inside the fragile cage of your heart. “KÖNIG!! PLEASE, NO!!”
He’s inside, he’s trapped. They’ve secured him there, no doubt, sent him to burn in your stead when they could not find you. He’s waiting for your return as he promised, waiting for you to find aid and embrace him once more, say the words you wish you had spoken sooner.
“Let me go!!” You scream as you’re hauled off your feet, shouts echoing in a frenzied cacophony around you. “Please- he’s inside, I need to save him-!!”
Your hands are caught, hauled upwards as someone calls for rope, and you scream then, a wordless, terrified cry just as tears blossom against your vision.
He’s dying, he’s dying, please-
You sob hysterically as you thrash in the unyielding grip of your captors, fighting against them like a feral, trapped animal and screaming, screaming for your beloved, for them to release you so you can throw yourself into the flames and rescue him or at least kiss him once more before the both of you drown in flames.
“Please-” You cry, throat thick with tears as the hunter’s son approaches you with your bindings-
Only to be stopped by a sword at his throat.
The men holding you freeze, not yet releasing you, but staring up at the towering witcher who’s eyes gleam darkly behind his mask.
“Release her.” Ghost growls, and you watch the blood drain from the young man’s face, his sinister sneer changing instead to a pale look of terror.
“I said.” Ghost announces once more, tilting the sharp of his blade so it nicks a shallow, red slice against the man’s throat. “Release her.”
The hands holding you vanish, and as soon as you’re released you bolt in the direction of your cottage once more, cape flaring out behind you. Yet before you can make it past the gate, another arm snakes around your middle, hauls you back against a broad chest.
“No Red!” Soap cries above the crackling of the flames that glow against your face. You struggle in his arms, chest heaving erratically as you claw at him to release you. Soap only grips you harder, prevents you from taking another step with his admirable witcher’s strength.
“I have to save him!” You gasp desperately, stretching towards the burning silhouette you once called home, even as the eaves begin to buckle. “Soap, please!!”
“He’s gone.” Soap mutters hoarsely into your shoulder. “Hen, he’s gone.”
A sob cracks your throat, and you slump against his hold, exhausted, grieving as tears stream openly down your face. You chant desperate pleas against him even though you know it’s too late, even as the roof finally caves in, burns down the only place you ever called home. You cry out in a wordless despair, your voice cutting through the silence that has engulfed the crowd behind you, kept at bay by Ghost and Gaz atop their dark mares.
“Please.” You beg once more, cradling your face in your hands as tears slip through your fingers. “König...”
“Rotty. Beloved Rotty.”
You loved him. Truly. Endlessly. Now he’s gone.
“Red!!” Laswell cries from behind you, and at once she’s at your side, arms around you as Soap releases you into her hold. You sob openly into the embrace, cling to her like a child in your despair. Laswell holds you, rocks you, but then at last holds you at arm’s length.
“He’s not there.” She tells you in a rush, eyes open with desperation. “The villagers said there was nobody inside. He’s alive.”
You stare at her through wet lashes, feeling the heat of the flames lick at your cape like the pyre that beckons you. It takes a moment to process her words, but when the realization dawns at last you clutch at her, face open with hope and terror.
“W-where is he, then?!” You beg, voice cracking. “Is he safe?”
Laswell’s face pinches in an expression you don’t understand.
Then, she looks to the woods.
It’s in that moment that a howl splits the sky.
Silence falls over the village as you all tense, looking towards the misty tree line just as the full, yellow moon appears atop the trees.
You’re out of time.
It’s Price’s voice then, that cuts through the silence that follows.
“Listen!” He calls out, voice thunderous, drawing all eyes towards his towering figure atop his anxiously prancing mare.
“The werewolf will be here soon, and when it comes it will tear this village to shreds. None of you will be safe when it does. Not unless you listen, understood?”
You watch the villagers look at each other anxiously, murmuring to themselves until a voice cuts through the crowd.
“Feed the witches to the wolf! It’s the only way!”
“Shut it!” Gaz snaps venomously from beside Price, unsheathing his sword from its scabbard- only for Price’s hand to shoot out and stop him. He nods at the younger man, who simmers with anger, his eyes dancing with fury in the light of the fire. Price turns once more to the crowd.
“These two women are under our protection!” His voice booms, gesturing to you and Laswell, Soap just before you, bristling with his teeth bared at the threat before him. “If anyone dares to lay a single hand on them, I’ll slice it off and feed you to the wolf. You will die a bloody, agonizing death, I promise you that.”
You watch the man who shouted the threat take a step back, aghast at Price’s words.
“It was Laswell who summoned us here to kill the monster.” Gaz interjects, seething. “and Red who guided us through the woods in search of it. You owe them your lives, you ungrateful swine.”
He urges his horse forward a single step, just enough to make the crowd step back, as Price barks at him to get back in line before turning towards the villagers once more.
“I want everyone in the village hall!” He declares, voice rough, overshadowed by the sudden shattering of a beam behind you as your house folds in on itself. You flinch into Laswell’s arms, feel her hold you tighter protectively, tucking your head away from the sight of your ruined home. “All able-bodied men are to grab a weapon and meet me in the square!”
The group hesitates as the bravado of some of the men evaporates in the face of the threat the wolf poses, muttering between themselves and sharing furtive glances. Price waits for them to come to an agreement, and when they don’t his voice carries over them once more.
“We were called here to protect you!” He announces, voice rising towards the inky clouds that roil past the moon. “If you wish for us to leave we will do so right now and leave you to the mercy of the beast.”
You watch a shudder run through the group, hear several gasps as they protest. It seems to settle Price, who nods with resolve before nodding towards the village hall.
“Go!” He bellows, voice thunderous. “There isn’t much time. Women and children inside. Men outside. Now!”
The townsfolk finally heed Price’s words and scatter in the direction of their homes to grab belongings, children, weapons. Price watches them, and once more casts a long look at the tree line before turning to the rest of you. You break from Laswell then, rush forward to grasp at the captain’s stirrup in desperation.
“Price.” You gasp, throat still not clear of your cries. “König- he’s in the woods. The werewolf will kill him. You have to go help him. Please.”
Price looks down at you, and you freeze at the sorrow in his gaze, the grief he unfolds for you.
“I’m sorry, Red.” He tells you, voice quiet. “It’s too late.”
You freeze, face falling open with your horror as you process his words.
He’s leaving him to die.
“N-no-” You try, voice cracking, grasping harder at his saddle. “No he’s- he’s somewhere nearby. He couldn’t have gotten far. We just need to look for him, I-I can’t leave him-”
“We need every person here.” Price tells you gravely. “The wolf will strike where there’s the most blood to be found. We cannot risk a search party, not with so many souls gathered here in the village.”
You stare at him, tears once more obscuring your vision as a plea dies in your throat. When Price pulls away, you jerk back as if you’ve been burned. The motion sends you straight into Laswell’s arms once more. She hauls you to her, pressing from behind you and cradling her nose against the bite mark that still lays against your skin.
“I’m sorry, Red.” She whispers. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
There’s a protest of despair that flutters helplessly in your chest, and you want to scream, to shout, to cry out for all things gained and lost in the pale moonlight cast down upon your lonely figure.
Memories surface unbidden as you stand stiffly, gazing at the sky.
König, frightened and injured, hid in the hollow of a tree. König, who had accepted your aid, offered you his name in a gesture of trust. König, who had gently placed his palm in yours, had offered quiet companionship near your hearth. König, who had snuck longing gazes at you, eyes glinting from the flames. König, who had held you safe from the world, who had cared for you so tenderly and protected you so fiercely. König, who had pressed you into bed with endless murmurs of devotion, who had called you by his name for you, who had laid claiming marks into your skin to show you were his. König, who had promised to stay so you would never be alone again.
“Laswell.” You speak in a raw whisper, watching the others gather in grave conference with their backs turned towards you. “I can’t leave him.”
Laswell tenses at your back before she at last releases you, turns you to face her. Her hair catches the glow of the flames, gray eyes soft and burning as they peer into the depths of your heart. She holds you there, hands clinging tightly to the cape she once bestowed upon you as a gift of her affection towards you.
“There’s one more thing.” She tells you, and in her voice you hear prophecy, the magic she keeps in careful concealment. It winds around you like brambles, a protection for the soul inside you striving towards something you’ve desired all your life, something which remains so close and just out of reach, residing in the woods you’ve always called home.
Laswell gathers you to her, and whispers words in your ear you don’t yet understand, holds you tight like she would a daughter. You think for a moment she’ll refuse to release you, will prevent you from the terrible act you are about to commit.
She releases you, gray eyes gleaming. She looks towards the turned backs of the witchers you’ve come to befriend, the ones who will now abandon you in your greatest time of desperation.
“Go.” Laswell whispers, and you take a step back, resisting the urge to throw yourself once more into her arms. Instead, you turn towards the forest, towards the cradle of the woods that has kept you safe your entire life. You turn towards the groves that hold secrets and danger, the woods that now hold your beloved as a prisoner, awaiting the fatal bite of the monster that haunts your nightmares.
You run for the trees, and you don’t look back.
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#konig x reader#konig x you#könig x reader#könig x you#witcher 141 au#könig x f! reader#my fic#fic: rotes madchen#werewolf x reader
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if I was the guide I would try to help link more then just help him with puzzles and where to go next. I would try helping with enemies and bosses by distracting them, help with stealth missions by making noise to distract guards, scavenge for things like rupees, bombs, arrows, food ect, for them, watch over link while he slept,help teach them how to play instruments cuz i doubt they would automatically know how to play, help keep them warm at night, let link vent and not bottle up his emotions,ya know cuz the poor boy deserves some help. Maybe guide reader help teach the links how to fight, cuz time, wind, and maybe legend, hyrule and how to sword fight cuz there's no way time and wind would know how to sword fight when their journeys first began, they were just kids, legend and four might have cuz legends uncle knew how to use a sword and fours grandfather is a blacksmith and in the four swords manga his father is captain of the hyrule knights, hyrule I don't honestly know if the fairies taught him how to fight with weapons, twilight was taught by rusl, sky, warriors and calamity were training/were already knights, wild would definitely have to be re taught how to fight again, and sage already remembered/ relearned how. I don't know how old first, korodai and courage were when they first learned,How would the chain react to that if they remembered? Sorry it's so long.😅
Sorry this one’s been sitting so long! This is going to be a bit of a ramble, but it’ll make sense! Took some liberties!!
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Player/Guide!reader is the epitome of comfort to the boys. Much of their lives they have been taught through experience to trust no one —not even their own goddess— lest they get a dagger in the back. And at first they are cautious. A person with no ties to hyrule who is so eerily familiar with the heroes and utterly bewitching? They’re half convinced you are a trick, meant to play on their insecurities and trauma.
Time gathers his recollections first. He remembers your calm voice correcting his form and swings, your encouragement to keep improving— not with the intent of killing, but with only his safety at heart. He’d buried his blade within the thick trunk of a tree and heard your old whispers through his ears, and it all made sense. That even as his bones were cracked and reformed and the threads of time unraveled, you were consistent. Even when he wasn’t the same him that you loved before, you were back again. Protecting him, even if he didn’t need it. You were arms for him to return to and someone to hold and love.
Legend remembered almost on accident. He’d bolted up from the solid earth, rings snagging at his hair as his fingers tugged at the root. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like that of a frightened animal. You’d cautiously found your way in front of him, talking him down from the world within. Your hands massaged his palms easing the tension and removing his hair from his grip. You’d done this many times before, he realised. You were all he had for the months after leaving Koholint, your unconditional love despite his less than stellar attitude was something he felt guilty to forget. But perhaps now he’d be content to make up for it by letting you keep him there, curled up against your chest… even if he’d get some teasing.
Twilight didn’t actually remember on his own. In fact, he’s so stubborn and protective over the ‘pack’ that he likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Epona. For a large part, he trusted her judgment. Most animals did have a keener sense for natural disasters, but she always seemed to have a good sense of character. Sure, it was odd enough she ate right out of your hand with a happy nicker, but she just really liked apples. She’s a horse, she’s easily bribed. But even then, he’s not sure how much bribing it would take for her to lay down and let you braid flowers through her freshly brushed mane. It was trust. From all the other times you did it absentmindedly —occasionally even to him— it seems her trust in character was still sharp.
Warriors was actually slightly embarrassed by how he came to remember. Dripping wet from the rain and favourite cloak littered with mud and holes, he was rather cranky. He got showered and changed —thank the three they were at an inn— and decided to leave the stained and worn clothes as a tomorrow problem. That was until his prized blanket scarf found its way into to your mits. He tried to snatch it back, earning some odd looks and the shutter of the sheikah slate. You were frustratingly difficult to catch. It seemed that hadn’t changed. When he was ultimately successful, however, he realised that you’d actually been making an incredibly successful job at washing and repairing it as you’d done thousands of times before. He remembers you my firelight, cobalt swathed over your lap as your needle glided through the fabric. He remembered trying to imitate your stitches. He remembered how he never quite got it right.
He let you finish working.
Four was having a crisis. Do not let his indifference fool you, this man is a wreck. Best believe that beyond his surprisingly stubborn stoicism, the colors are shaking each other by the shoulders and screaming. Red recognised you immediately. His heart was quite literally moulded after your soft words and carefully love, he couldn’t forget you so long as he had a soul. Green being the mediator between them all and heard his quiet utters. The most honest a man could be that his adoration was infectious. It was you who taught him who he was. Blue took a while. So strong-willed in his stance, the he forgot you were the one to teach him to take a stand. He forgot it was you who willed him to fight for what he loved. Vio fell last, what would you expect of the mind. He hardly noticed it. The way his thoughts timed to you, the way he sought your presence and craved your voice. It was you who taught them how to be separate and yet loved them wholly. And such loyalty could only be payed back.
Wind remembered you in fragments. He remembers his parent by oath, who shielded him from the vast world he was so desperate to see. He didn’t understand it at first. But loosing you, especially when his memory wasn’t fully gone like the others, was rough. He mourned and grieved, even if he didn’t realise it. He missed being cared for. Without the looming question of what favor needed done or when it would go away. He missed you. It took a while to heal. For him to feel ok trusting in people again, even eventually curling up next to Wars when he’d try to sleep. He felt guilty, as if he were betraying you when you dug up dead feelings. But it’s hard to be a rebellious rascal when your partner in crime is finally returned to you especially after you were concerned you killed them. It takes him a while to process your back, but he’s back at your side, tugging you along by the hand as he explains his next devious prank.
Hyrule remembers you through his magic. The way your heart stutters as he heals you is familiar, a beat he’s fallen asleep to many times before and the life within it is one he can’t help but feel… connected to. He keeps a close eye out, his ears wiggling at the familiar music of your laugh and his skin unfamiliar without your own to cradle it. You share a spirit with them, a bit of your soul and theirs and a small both of theirs in you. And yet his mind can’t call out to why. It keeps him awake, taunting at him. But he knows his soul yearns for the part with yours. He knows the rush of your blood and song of your soul. He knows he loves you. Even if he doesn’t get why.
Wild takes so long to remember you for exactly the reasons you’d expect. His mind hides away the most crucial parts of itself in plain sight, never to be noticed or recognized until the memories are far too warped and rotten to actually remember anything. Anything of note, that is. But for what it’s worth, he never really perceived you as a threat. You were homey and comfortable, a trait so unfamiliar to his life of travel, he didn’t care if it left a sword in his stomach. Besides, not any yiga could take on an act that long. He took off the cooked eggs and set them onto a separate plate as you sat quietly, Wind strewn over your torso. You hummed softly the same work song he’d sung for years. One for which he didn’t know the origin, not until hearing you for what felt like the first time again. He couldn’t help but hum along.
Sky was cursed to forget you.
I must preface because he is a lover boy first and hero second. He wouldn’t care who Demise was, nor his business, so long as you were safe and loved. He loved you more than each and every star in the sky. And he’d already began to start planning your home. He knew he loved you. He knew he was made to love you. And that was exactly why he was made to forget you. That loyalty was scary to the gods. That one would devote themselves to another for little more than love in return— Hylia could not risk her heroes to stray. But try as she might she couldn’t surpress you. Not when you were already married, souls intertwined through every timeline. Your role varied, a healer, a helping hand, a comfort, a home, a parent, a lover, a souse. But you were always someone to Link. No matter what the gods declared. He remembered you only after all the others had, but he’s alright with that.
#linked universe#legend of zelda#linkeduniverse#link x reader#linked universe x reader#link x you#x reader#lu timexreader#lu time#lu twilight x reader#lu twilight#lu warriors#lu warriorsxreader#lu wildxreader#lu wild#lu wind#lu sky#lu sky x reader#lu four#lu four x reader#lu legend x reader#lu legend#lu hyrulexreader#lu hyrule#fir’s library
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Title: Tonality [3]
Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader
previous chapter
Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: more creepy dream fuel, Geralt being slimy and having ulterior motives, and a little more tension with reader and her mother. all in all, i think you guys will enjoy this latest addition. as always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics
The doe’s coat is as yellow as spun gold, and she blinks at you nervously as you approach. You cannot hide your childish squeal of delight, though it vexes her further. She nickers, shifting from hoof to hoof as she blinks at you with wide eyes.
“Papa, is she really mine?” You ask, your quiet voice heavy with awe. “She’s beautiful.” You hold out a hand, and her nostrils flare at your scent. Her long ears flick back, laying flat against her head behind her horns. They’re small—she’s young, barely a year old, perhaps less—and still covered with soft, velvety baby fur that you know will shed as she ages.
“Careful,” your father’s voice is ripe with caution. “She is new. Young, still, and a bit unwieldy.” You cluck your tongue at her, producing the sugar cubes you’d stolen from your mother’s tea tray from the sleeves of your dress. “I said careful—!” The doe leans forward, pressing her muzzle into your outstretched hand. You raise an eyebrow at your father, who shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh puffing out from between his lips. You stroke her head, running your fingers gently between her antlers and softly flicking ears.
“She about took Gaspard’s hand off this morning, she was so wild,” he says, shaking his head. “And yet she eats from your own as if you had weaned her yourself.”
“Did Gaspard try sugar?” You ask, giggling as her lips tickle your palm. “Perhaps she mightn’t have tried to amputate his fingers had he kept some of his salt to himself.” The wind shifts, and beneath the doe’s thick animal scent, there is something else.
Something like sulphur and rotting meat.
Your hand passes down the doe’s head, and her skin sloughs off beneath your fingers, leaving shiny, white bone behind. You gag, clapping a bloody hand over your mouth as fat flies buzz lazily out of her empty eye sockets. Wrong. This is wrong, it doesn’t happen like this—
How does it go, again?
Your father gifts you the doe, the golden doe, you are eighteen, you are a woman now, you will ride with him on the hunt, you will—
“Su—gar swe—et,” Your father’s voice is the buzzing of a thousand glistening black flies, his tongue is made from them, wriggling in his wide open mouth. His eyes are children’s scribbles, black and writhing, and tears like ink drip from their corners. “It tasted like sugar—”
It is then that you remember your father is dead.
He is dead. He is dead here, because he is dead everywhere, dead and rotting and gone but not gone and you mustn’t listen, you mustn’t—
You wake with a sharp gasp.
“—Princess?” The words dissolve into a static, meaningless drone as you are thrust suddenly back into consciousness. For a moment, the dream is still overlaid over the waking world like runny watercolor as you blink groggily in the dark. Beneath your trembling fingers, you can still feel the doe’s soft, golden coat—and the sharp, polished bone of her skull. With a sweaty palm against the wall, you retch, doubling over as you heave.
Nothing comes up.
The air around you is stale, stagnant, and the taste of dust and decay blankets your tongue as you swallow down lungful after panicked lungful. One thing is abysmally clear to you as you dizzily rest a hand on the cold stone to keep yourself upright—
You are not in your rooms.
Where am I?
“Princess.” The voice sounds again, and your head snaps about wildly, your eyes wide as you stare into the dark. The dream is still there, sticking the fringes of your waking thoughts like tar, and for a moment there are two voices, one made of dark black honey, sickly sweet, and the other the insectile buzz of a thousand glassy wings all beating in unison—
“Wh-who goes there?” You ask, dragging the back of your hand across your quivering mouth. There is a sound like the sharp rushing of air, and all at once the room is lit with warm yellow light. You suppress a scream as your father’s withered, sunken face appears before you, his eyes like children’s scribble—you shut your eyes, closing them tightly as you whimper.
“A dream, this is a dream, a dream—” A cool, bare hand wraps about your wrist and you scream, pulling and fighting as fiercely as you can manage. “No! No! You’re dead—!” You cry, hysterical tears creeping out of the corners of your closed eyes.
“I regret to inform you, little sister, that I am very much alive.” It is not your father’s voice—not the dead—but your step-brother’s. “Despite your best attempts to dispatch me.” Slowly, you open your eyes, sniffling as you meet his gaze. He nods up at your balled fists, still trembling in his grip. You can feel the heat of him through his own loose night-shirt and your thin cotton shift, and your skin prickles as he licks his lips.
“Release me.” You say it with more confidence than you feel. For a moment, you feel your step-brother drag his thumb across your pulse point and cock his head, as though he is considering it.
“Will you strike me again, little princess?” He asks, a mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You scowl. “I did not plan for a midnight brawl.” You shake your head, your cheeks flaming. Geralt stares at you for a moment, like his golden eyes see something yours do not. As you prepare to make the demand again, he frees your wrists. You clutch your hands to your chest, eyeing him warily. The torch he has lit casts the long room in dim orange light, the flames dancing in his irises, turning them molten. It is the firelight, you think, that makes him look so menacing, so…
Hungry.
You shiver, turning your gaze instead to your surroundings, squinting at the long stone hall in the flickering light. The cool, stagnant air is disturbed only by the sound of your quiet breath, which catches in your throat as your eyes widen.
“Where…are we?” You ask, though you fear you know the answer already.
The walls are lines with alcoves bearing countless candles, stuck into the melted pools of wax left by their predecessors rather than into proper candelabras. And in neat rows in front of them…
Graves. Made of the same gray stone as the castle. Highly polished and clean, they are each adorned with ornate carvings of their occupants. You stare grimly at the rows and rows of polished stone, and wonder at how you might have possibly found your way here through the dark labyrinth of the castle. You think again of the dream, and gooseflesh rises again on your skin.
”Did you bring me here?” You round on the prince, your brow furrowed. He chuckles in response, and the sound of it grates against you.
“Me? I merely followed you. In truth I had wondered why you would visit the catacombs at this hour. I thought perhaps,” his eyes narrow as a crude grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “A secret paramour, or—”
“Do not confuse me with yourself!” You snap, wrapping your arms around your body as you shiver. The prince clucks his tongue at your ire.
“Come now, don’t be cross, little sister,” Geralt purrs. “It wouldn’t have been proper to leave you wandering the hallways in your state of undress, muttering to yourself like a madwoman.” Your cheeks warm at his crude words, and you feel angry, embarrassed tears flush hotly into the space behind your eyes. You blink them back.
“I… have not walked in my sleep since I was a child,” you admit, looking down at the space between your bare feet. Geralt hums in response. Old Madge, in her half-blind wisdom had always muttered fearfully to your father about your nightly escapades.
A soul shouldn’t walk about at night, she would say, her thin, knobby fingers twisting strands of honeysuckle and dried lavender together into a long chain, one she would wind around your bed’s posts every night for a year until finally you stayed in it. A soul shouldn’t walk about at night. What’s it lookin’ for?
“I fear I…” You shake your head, swallowing your concerns—they are not for him to hear. “No matter.” For an instant, a look of disappointment crosses his face before it is gone again, leaving you to wonder if you had even seen it at all. “Thank you.” Your reluctance is palpable. “For waking me.”
“You��ve no need to thank me. Not yet.” His eyes glitter darkly. You swallow thickly, and they follow the movement, sweeping almost lazily down the line of your throat. “Let us go.” They flick back up to yours. “Unless you wish to spend the night here?” He gestures behind you, and you shiver again, shaking your head quickly.
“Please.”
You are grateful to leave the eerie silence of the royal catacombs behind you, following as closely as you dare behind the prince. His torch throws up strange shapes on the walls of the narrow, spiraling stairwell. You can feel the dream sitting at the edges of your thoughts, waiting eagerly to settle back over you like fog. You were not predisposed to bad dreams, and yet they seemed to be the only ones you have had since you arrived. You have been beset with dark thoughts, nipping at your heels like hungry dogs, no—
Wolves.
The two of you emerge from the narrow stairwell into the empty chapel, and the vast hall echoes with your entry. The sconces are dark, and the robed, painted priests nowhere to be seen. The chapel is far less intimidating at night, the sharp features of the northern gods softened by shadow. Cold moonlight filters down softly through the domed ceiling, the colors pale and muted. For a moment, the perfectly round moon is framed perfectly by the pane of red glass containing Father Wolf, shining bright crimson above his head as you pass beneath it.
The choking scent of the incense is gone now, and only a trace of it remains in the still air. It is overpowered by a thick, musky animal scent that reminds you of wet fur. As the two of you cross the center of the room, Geralt hooks left, towards the wide, dark archway on the other side of the room. It gapes open like a toothless mouth, the stone floor sloping downward steeply into the dark.
You stop at the top of it, the warm air stirring the loose hair about your shoulders. Geralt turns to look back at you, raising a brow and cocking his head p as he lifts the torch higher. There is a question in the tilt of his head, unspoken on the curve of his lips.
Are you afraid?
You are. The dank, pungent animal scent washes over you again, and you shudder. It reminds you of your father’s hunting dogs.
“Come, little Doe.” His voice feels like cold fingers drawn across the back of your neck. “You need not fear the kennels this night.”
“I am not afraid.” You jut your chin out stubbornly, even as gooseflesh erupts along your arms.
“Good,” he purrs, licking his lips. “They can smell it.” Geralt descends down into the dark maw, and you reluctantly follow. Like most, you are no stranger to the rumors that leak steadily from King Vesemir’s halls; fantastical tales of furred beasts whose jaws were wide enough to swallow a horse whole. You clutch yourself, inching closer to the prince as the sloped path straightens out, opening into a massive cavern.
Geralt’s torch is little more than a pinprick of light in in the vast, unyielding dark. The warm glow only manages to dimly outline the shapes of natural stone pillars, throwing up misshapen shadows. There are still more passageways, little more than tunnels, littering the walls like pockmarks. For a moment, the light of Geralt’s torch throws a long arm across the chamber.
Reflected in it’s light are two, glowing orbs. Eyes, the size of dinner plates, their color impossible to describe. It was as if the eyes themselves were ablaze, glowing brightly, breaking the darkness. Over the rush of your own labored breath, you can make out the quiet scratch of claws on stone. It’s coming closer. The thought tightens your throat.
You are powerless, paralyzed before it like prey. Are you prey? You suppress a whimper. There is warmth at your back, and you realize belatedly that it is Geralt, so close his breath brushes the back of your neck.
“No fear, little princess. No fear.”
In less than an instant, the creature stands just beyond the ring of light cast by the prince’s torch. Faintly, you can make out the hulking shape of it; larger by far than any horse. Shaggy white fur, stained a rusty red around its muzzle, it’s ears pricked up and forward as it listens to the sound of your breath.
“Hold out your hand.” You do, lifting a trembling palm in front of you as if to stop the wolf from coming any closer. The wolf’s lip curls, exposing the wickedly sharp tip of a fang. It sniffs at your hand, and for a moment, you fear you will draw back nothing but a bloody stump. Your shock is palpable when it presses the tip of its snout against your hand, whiskers tickling your palm.
“Incredible.” The word escapes with the release of your held breath. You stroke the warm, bristly hair on its muzzle slowly, your eyes still wide with disbelief. The dire-wolf snorts, claws tapping against the stone as it turns from you. As quickly as the wolf appeared, it is gone again, disappearing back into the dark. You remain as you were for a moment more, your arm still outstretched as you watch its retreating back with terrified wonder.
“Yrsil.” Geralt’s voice drags you back to the present, and suddenly you are aware of how close he is to you, the way his warm breath ghosts against the shell of your ear. “The she-wolf. Her name is Yrsil.” You jump away from him, smoothing your hands down your shift as you eye him warily.
“Why did you bring me here?” The accusatory note in your voice appears to amuse him, further stoking your ire. “To frighten me?”
“If I wanted you fearful, I would not have needed the kennels to do it.” You clench your fists, glaring hatefully at him as he resumes his casual pace across the cavern floor. “Come, now. This is the quickest way back to the eastern wing of the castle. I would not lie to you.” You glare at him, your eyes narrowed.
“Would you not?” You reply dryly.
“I am many things, Princess.” Geralt’s voice drips into your ears like snake oil. “But liar is not one I am eager to add to the list.”
True to his word, the two of you emerge from the kennel entrance in the throne room, the hot musk of below sticking uncomfortably to your skin and hair. You half expect the prince to take his leave, now that you are back in familiar territory, but he doesn’t. He keeps pace with you all the way back to your chambers. The heavy door is still slightly ajar, no doubt from your midnight venture. The prince places the lit torch in one of the empty wall sconces before leaning expectantly against the wall, his body partially blocking the doorway.
“Excuse me.”
He slowly tilts his head, fixing you with a questioning look. “I do believe there is something you are forgetting, my Lady.” He parrots Kassandra’s tone with irritating accuracy. “I know Redania keeps to the old customs as well as they can, however here in Rivia we do require a certain level of decorum.”
You clench your fists in your nightgown. “What do you want, Geralt?” You ask, exasperated.
“A kiss should suffice, little Doe.” He purrs. His golden eyes burn the same way they did in the gardens the night of your mother’s coronation. You shake your head in disbelief as you stare at him, your lips parted.
“Y-you cannot ask this of me!” Your repudiation is a shrill squeak. “T-tis indecent, w-we cannot—!” You shake your head again. “The king will not allow—”
“I think you will find, little sister,” he reaches forward to trace the pad of his forefinger along your jaw-line, “that it matters not what the king will allow if he is not present. Do you see him?”He pushes your head to the side, forcing you to look down the hallway. “I don’t.” This is the closest Geralt has ever been to you, practically pressing you against the wall, caging you in with his massive arms. You understand now, the message relayed beneath his words—you are in no position to negotiate.
“You are my brother!” You plead, but he is unmoved.
“In name only.” He leans down, twining a lock of hair between his fingers, tugging it gently. “My father’s sham of a marriage has remarkably little to do with me.” You press yourself against the stone as he leans closer. “Come now, little Doe. Let us speak truth.” He tugs gently at the satin ribbon at the neck of your shift and it falls open.
“What you saw in the gardens intrigued you,” Geralt traces a path from your chin to your collarbone, his fingers feather-light, “did it not?”
“No!” His open amusement at your conviction is like cold water down your back.
“I saw, Sweetling,” he says lowly. “The look on your face—”
“Fine!” You shrill, tearing yourself away from him. It is not true, it cannot be—and yet, your blood rushes through your veins, a thin tendril of that same shameful longing uncurling in your belly. The dark curiosity that had driven you to peer around the hedge all those nights ago surges with sinful familiarity, even as you try to stamp it out.
You lean forward with a grimace, rolling onto the tips of your toes. The prince cups your chin, smoothing a finger along your lower lip. He is unprepared for you to turn your head sharply, your lips brushing against his stubbled cheek. It is only the quickness of your movement and Prince Geralt’s own surprise that allows your malicious compliance, and you dart away, ducking under his arm and through the slim gap in the door.
He snarls, reaching for you, but you slam the it shut, sliding the bolt into place with speed that surprises you. Your heart hammers against your chest as for a brief moment, there is silence on the other side of the door.
“Aren’t you clever,” he sneers, his voice muffled through the wood. He tries the handle before letting out a muted curse. “Open the door.” Your silence earns you a dark growl. “Open it!”
You jump back from the door, muffling the sound of your scream with the palms of your hands as Geralt throws himself against it. It shudders in its frame, and for a terrifying moment you fear it will burst open, revealing the enraged prince on the other side—but it does not.
“Open it!” You shrink against the wall as he seethes, his threats echoing in your ears. The sturdy wood holds against his assault, and when he finally stops, you can hear the sound of his labored breathing on the other side. That too, gradually fades into silence, and cautiously, you approach the door. Somehow, though you cannot see him, you know he remains there, waiting.
“You will regret this night.” There is grim promise in his words. “Little sister.” The sound of Geralt’s retreating footsteps makes your shoulders sag with relief, and you collapse against the wall, your breath labored. Though you doubt he is still there, waiting to ambush you in the hall, you do not dare open the door again until morning—
Just in case.
—
“It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Your mother flutters her fan daintily as she basks in the warm end-of-summer sun. To her right, Lady Amelia, red-faced and sweating beneath her pale face paint, forces a smile through her obvious discomfort.
“Oh yes, Highness.” She blinks as a cloudy bead of sweat slides down into her eye. “Lovely.”
You know the noblewomen fawning over your mother would much rather be inside, sheltered from the hot sun by the cold stone of the castle. It was where you would have been, if not for the summons from your mother. You had spent the majority of the past week or so in your chambers, reluctantly leaving them only when strictly necessary in your attempts to avoid the prince.
The Prince.
At the thought of him, you cast a wary glance at your surroundings, looking for the telltale gleam of his golden eyes, or the shock of his snow white hair. Thankfully, you find neither. Crossing the patch of soft, green grass toward your mother, you perch impatiently on the end of the carved stone bench as you wait for her to notice you. You make idle conversation with her ladies as you wait, twisting your fingers nervously in the fabric of your skirts while you try to parse out your request.
I want to go home.
“Ah, daughter,” she greets you, and you drop your head respectfully as she addresses you. “Come to enjoy the weather?” She gestures around her at the blooming garden. “I daresay we shall miss it soon enough.” She stretches, the jewels adorning her fingers and throat shining brilliantly in the sun.
“It is lovely,” you say, nodding agreeably. “It does remind me of home.” You curse yourself as the word slips from your lips. Instantly, your eyes fly to your mother’s face, watching for the displeasure you know you will see written in the stiffness of her smile or the narrowed slant of her eyes.
“Of Redania, you mean.” The soft curve of her lips belie the dagger sharp edges of her words. The smile you force in return is weak, trembling at the edges of your mouth.
“Y-yes. That is… what I meant to say.” You do not miss the way her ladies lean in amongst themselves, whispering. “D-did you wish to speak with me?” Though the day is unseasonably warm, and you yourself are surrounded by people, you feel small and cold and alone. Adrift.
“Must a mother need a reason to see her child?” She asks, rising gracefully from her seat. One of the servants rushes over with a parasol, but she waves him away, shaking her head. “If a reason must be given, I suppose mine might be that I have missed you.” She loops her arm through one of yours securely, steering you off the patch of cool grass and back onto the garden path proper. The whispers of her ladies follow behind you, biting at your heels they fade.
“I am your mother, and yet I cannot recall when last we broke bread together.”
“I have found myself quite exhausted, of late,” You mumble the half truth. “I fear the journey weighs heavily upon me still.” You suppress a shudder as you remember the dream, your father’s rotting face bloated with fat maggots—“I have not slept well.”
“Late night escapades do tend to be quite exhausting.” Her lips curve into a cold, knowing smile, and your belly fills with hot lead. Shame turns the blood in your veins to ice as your mother inspects her sleeve. A terrible fury rages beneath the placid surface of her pleasantries, and you cower in the face of it.
“M-mother, I—” The words will not come, leaving you floundering as your mouth opens and closes in silence. “H-he—”
“Did you think I would not see it?” She spits. Disgust drips from the words. “Would not notice his...” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as her mouth twists with displeasure. “Interest.” You swallow against the lump in your throat, knowing it matters not but still wondering who might have seen, who might have witnessed Prince Geralt raging at your door.
“Mother, I-I swear to you, I have done nothing—! H-he, I—I walked in my sleep, a-and he found me, I—nothing happened!” You hate the look on her face, like your pleas of innocence have only confirmed your guilt. “Nothing—”
“Nothing?” Her lip curls. “You must know these games you play, all they have done is pique his interest.” She speaks as though somehow, you should have known better. “Men are stupid, willful creatures, desirous of what they cannot have.” She clucks her tongue at you. “Your father coddled you far too long—you are a woman grown! It is long past time you act like it!”
“Father would believe me!” You sob. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks. “I am innocent!” Your mother stares at you coldly, before reaching forward to cup your chin.
“It is not your innocence I question.” Your mother’s voice is deceptively soft. “It is your sense.” You blink at her through your tears, trembling. “My sweet, naive girl.” She wipes roughly at your tears with the pad of her thumb. The cold distance in her eyes splits you cleanly down the middle like a sharp blade. There is part of you that wants to fawn, to deliver honeyed words on a platter until her love shines down on you again like the sun—
And part that wants nothing more than to flee. You want to ask—no, beg—for her to send you home, to return you to the walls you knew better than the lines on your own palms. Your mother embraces you, her lips brushing your cheek even as your own work silently. The words won’t come, like they are stuck in your throat.
“There should be only honesty between us.” Your mother says. “Understand?”
I want to go home.
Send me home.
Please.
“Yes.” You hang your head in defeat, the words retreating from your tongue.
“Good.” She chirps as she leans away. She is herself again, smiling affectionately as she brushes imaginary dirt from your dress, tucking loose strands of hair back into your fraying braid. “And you’ll tidy up for supper, won’t you? We have missed you at the table these past nights.” You clasp your hands together so tightly that your palms sting as you force a smile.
“Of course.”
For a moment, just a moment, the warm breeze carries with it the smell of rot and earth, and you remember the doe, your father’s gift dead and bloated in the patch of hexweed in the woods.
It smells like sugarcane, but it isn’t, your father had taught you young. It smells sweet, but it’s not, understand?
Perhaps, you think, as you reluctantly follow your mother’s retreating back, people can be hexweed too.
to be continued…
next
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#henry cavill#henry cavill fandom#henry cavill fanfiction#geralt of rivia#geralt of rivia smut#geralt of rivia fanfiction#geralt of rivia imagine#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia x ofc#geralt x you#geralt x y/n#geralt x reader#geralt imagine#geralt smut#geralt fanfic#AU#medieval!au#medieval au#royal!au#royal au#dark fantasy au#GoT AU#darkfic#boxofbonesfic#Tonality fic
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Safe and Sound
Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU
Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.
Wordcount- 3.1k
Notes: Sorry this one was so late, it was just not chaptering but it's here now so enjoy!
Chapter 5
My heels clicked as I walked across the stone floor. My dress swirling around in the light breeze that flowed through the opening at the other end of the room. I felt eyes on me as I walked. So many eyes. All latching onto me and following my every movement. I locked my own gaze on the horses. Beautiful creatures, tall, strong and powerful. I stopped next to the chariot I would be riding in and stroked the horses pulling it. I found myself drawn towards the one on the left. His depthless black eyes pierced my skin. I felt as if he knew everything I was feeling, everything I thought, everything I had done. I stood directly in front of him. My own eyes locked on his as I lifted my hand to stroke his face. Dark fur like velvet under my touch. He nickered quietly, hooves pawing at the ground.
“It's okay. It's okay.” I soothe him gently. “I'm a friend, I won't hurt you.” I hold his head and stroke along his nose to calm him down as I chatter mindlessly to him. “You're very beautiful, you know. I'd love to see you free, running in the wild. I'm sure it would be a sight to behold, you in the meadows. I think you'd like that, meadows are pretty. Especially if they have lots of flowers, my favourites are the blue and purple ones. Then again you might eat the flowers.“ I frown. “I don't know if flowers are good for horses so you maybe shouldn't eat them.” He snorted as if laughing at me and I smiled before turning around and taking a step forward. Immediately, eyes were on me again, assessing, questioning, some downright sadistic- as if they were already plotting how to kill me. I shuffled nervously on my feet, putting my hands behind my back and fiddling with my fingers as I peered around curiously myself, Cashmere and Gloss were stood chatting to Enobaria and Brutus, their sneering expressions as they glanced over me giving away exactly what they were talking about. Other tributes were milling around, chatting to each other quietly, trying to not draw attention to themselves. I decided to mingle a bit, I meandered through the room, not looking directly at anyone but nodding hello or raising a hand in greeting. Without realising it I somehow ended up by the district 12 tributes, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. The winners of last year's games, the star crossed lovers. I gave them both a quick nod and turned, in doing so I lost my balance and wobbled, almost falling over but Katniss grabbed my arm and righted me.
“Thank you.” I muttered. She said nothing in response so I thanked her again awkwardly and made to walk away.
“Wait,” I turned to see her holding a hand out to me. “You're Y/N right. The winner of the 68th.” I nodded.
“Yes, I am.”
“I remember the year you won. I watched your entire games. You won by killing the three career tributes didn't you.“ I shivered at the reminder and replied softly.
“Yes.”
“Nobody thought you would be the one to win. I didn’t either. Thought it would be the district 2 boy.” I laughed lightly.
“That makes two of us.” I stopped for a second before continuing. “I know you don't know me or anything but for what it’s worth I’m sorry you have to do this again. You and Peeta. You don't deserve it.”
“None of us should have to do this.” Peeta interrupted. “None of us.” I quirked an eyebrow as I studied him. His face set in a stony expression.
“You shouldn't have won either but you did and here we all are again.” I turned away from him to face Katniss again. “And what you did for your sister last year was brave.”
“What you did for Annie this year was brave.” She countered. I hummed
“How do you know I didn't do it for glory?”
“Because none of us want to go back in there.” I studied her, a sad smile on my lips.
“That's not entirely true.” She looked confused for a second and I shook my head. “Some of us want to go back in, not for the reasons you're thinking, not for glory or bragging rights. Some of us just want to protect other people.” I shook my head slightly, my hair falling over my shoulders. “Like him,” I nodded to Peeta who was petting the horses,”He wants to protect you and he didn't want Haymitch to go back in because he would have probably died.“ She gazed at me for a second.
“So you volunteered to protect someone as well.” I stared back at her.
“I didn't mean to volunteer. It just happened.” She opened her mouth to respond but we heard a scream of my name from across the room. I turned and was immediately enveloped in a huge hug, my face filled with coiffed hair and I spluttered as it covered my mouth and nose.
“Effie, hair. Face. Hair. Breathing.” I stuttered out, Effie pulled away from me and gasped.
“Oh you look so beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous!.” She grasped the fabric of my dress and inspected it closely. “The stitching is impeccable and this colour is so lovely on you.”
“Wait a minute, how do you three know each other?” Katniss interjected.
“We met when I was in the games, Effie loved me from the start because according to her I was ‘just so adorable’ and Haymitch warmed up to me after a while. But we’re only acquaintances, very rarely see each other.” She looked sceptical but nodded anyway.
“Effie’s right kid. You look pretty incredible. They'll all love you out there.” Haymitch said from behind, patting me on the back. “How’ve you been doing?” I shrugged. “Come on, something must have happened since we last saw you. It's been what, three, four years since you refused to see us again?”
“Four years, eight months and twenty seven days.” I muttered, looking down at the floor and laughed awkwardly. “There have been some tough moments, nightmares that you can never get rid of, but other than those I've been fine. Same as I always was. Same as I always will be.” I squinted at him. “What about you?”
“We’ve been very busy looking after these two and making sure they are adapting well to life as victors but other than that it's been much the same as usual.” Effie chimed in, sending a glare Haymitch's way and mouthing something I couldn't discern. Haymitch rolled his eyes at her and spoke to me as she fussed over Katniss.
“You volunteered. I thought you said nothing could ever make you come back.” I looked down.
“I lied.”
“I don't know why you did it kid and I know you won't tell me because you don't get close to people if you can help it, so just,” He sighed, ”Just try and stay alive as long as you can alright.” He patted me on the back again and went to talk to Peeta as Effie
“I have missed you like you wouldn't imagine darling. Although I did see you dancing a few times, it was so graceful and beautiful.” She covered her mouth. “You've grown up so much. Now where is that escort of yours, Lysander?” I shrugged again.
“Don’t know. Probably hounding Finnick or something.” Effie let out a loud sigh.
“He really is useless. Utterly useless. And I’ve told him that before you know. But apparently my advice is meaningless! Does he even know what his job is? It’s to help you win by getting you sponsors. And ignoring you completely is not the way to help.”
“It’s okay. Finnick has got the better chance of survival anyway, it makes more sense to focus on him.” Haymitch sent me a look.
“Do not look at me like that. I'm going to try my best but let's be honest it's not going to be enough.” I scrunched my nose up and tipped my head to Katniss. “See you out there girl on fire. It's been a pleasure meeting you.” She shook my hand.
“See you out there.”
“And you Peeta.” I called out to him. “We’ll all bump into each other again at some point I'm sure.” With that I walked off, leaving them all staring at my back in surprise. I let out a shuddering breath as I leaned against a wall, my head tipping back and my eyes shutting in a moment of peace that was over as soon as it began when they called us all to our chariots. I pushed myself off the wall and made my way back over to the horses and chariot, stroking their noses quickly before being helped up into the chariot. Dark metal and deep blue flowers at the front to represent District 4. I picked a petal and smoothed it over with the pads of my fingers, smooth and velvety. I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped, turning to face a smirking Finnick.
“Sugarcube?” He asked, holding them out to me. I took one hesitantly and bit into it, the sweetness spread across my tongue, coating my entire mouth.
“Thank you.” I mumbled, sucking the rest into my cheek. Unfortunately, I finally clocked what he was wearing, or lack thereof, and almost choked on the sugar as I inhaled sharply and swallowed at the same time. I had been prepared for this to happen. But clearly not as prepared as I had thought I would be. Because there stood Finnick Odair, still smirking, biting a sugarcube with his back teeth, dressed in nothing more than a golden net tied in a knot to secure it around his waist. He was perhaps the closest thing to naked I’d ever seen a person be before, I thought to myself idly and swallowed again, the grains of sugar scratching my throat. I averted my gaze quickly as I felt heat rising in my cheeks and resolutely stared anywhere but at him. He laughed next to me.
“I didn't expect that.” I admitted quietly. “I thought you'd at least be wearing actual clothes.” I peeked at him for a second, the man was built like a greek god. All muscle and tan skin and just unfairly perfect.
“My stylist is of the belief that the more they see of me the better.” He held out a hand towards me. “I don't think we've been properly formally introduced. I'm Finnick Odair.” My heart broke in my chest at his words but I shook his hand and whispered my own name back as the chariots began to move forwards. I smoothed out the creases in the delicate fabric of my dress and plastered a pleasant expression on my face just as the noise of the Capitol hit my ears. And we were out. Parading down the Avenue of Tributes with people cheering for us yet again, but this time multiplied by a million. It was the one event of the week that every single person in the Capitol came to see and they all blurred together in a mass of whirling colours. I smiled faintly and tapped a small raised gem sewn into the sleeve of my dress. Immediately, water began to trickle down from my tiara. It seemed to have a life of its own and left cold trails on my skin. It touched the fabric of my dress and a brilliant blue bloomed from the patch. As it trickled further down, the rest of my dress turned similar shades until the water stopped flowing and collected in a pool at the hem of my dress, dripping slightly and leaving a damp patch on the surface of the chariot. I gazed up at myself on the projections as the people went wild and threw flowers at us, hollering for our attention. The top of the dress had become a dark blue the colour of the deepest parts of the ocean and it faded into a powdery blue the colour of the flowers that had lined my mothers porch years ago. I looked like a queen of the sea. My dress was a representation of the ocean and of District 4, of my home. Megara had outdone herself and I would wear it with pride. So I waved and blew kisses to people, a smile as bright as the sun on my face. I could hear the commentary vaguely in the background. Exclamations of how they had never quite seen something like that before, how beautiful the dress was, how perfect it was for me, for their angel. Others had attempted to copy the artificial flames but compared to the original they seemed like cheap knockoffs. Hardly impressive. I could understand why Megara would use water then, to make a different statement. Fire had already been seen, it was old, except for on district 12. But water, the opposite of fire. They had never seen that before and it really helped that she was styling for our district. And yet when Katniss and Peeta emerged, dressed in a blazing inferno, I was forgotten. As expected the attention all shifted to the star crossed lovers of district 12. Not that I could blame them, they were a sight to behold, even more dramatic than last year. The chariots circled and everyone waved up to President Snow. I simply nodded my head towards him, my gaze cold. Eventually we came to a stop in a semi circle and President Snow stepped up to the podium overhead.
“Welcome all to the 75th Hunger Games. We thank our tributes for their great sacrifice. We shall be sad to see them go.” With that he sends us on our way, we roll out and back where we came from. I leapt out as soon as we passed the entry way, my dress dragging along the floor, dust sticking to the damp fabric. I saw Mags waiting and brushed past her without a glance. I walked around for a bit, the architecture of the building was so new, it was clear they had it built especially for us. It was like a fortress, cameras everywhere, the thickest glass they could have found for windows, doors that couldn't be opened unless the guard stood next to them opened them for you and white walls all around. It wasn't just a training centre. It was a cage, our cage for the next week.
I laughed. They really didn't want us going anywhere at all. And they weren't taking any chances if they could help it. They could mask it with pretences of hospitality and wishing for us to enjoy our stay but even a blind man could see that this was a prison, and one made specifically to keep us in. I pressed a button on the wall and stepped into the elevator. Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch all greeted me with nods and Johanna grinned widely at me as we started moving upwards.
“Well well well. If it isn't the little princess. Tell me, how's life been treating you in the Capitol?” She asked, venom dripping from each word. I regarded her silently, assessing as she stripped off her dress. She had never liked me. She thought I was just some pretty little doll that the Capitol kept and never touched. They all thought that though, each and every victor knew I danced and sang and that was it. They had never been so wrong in their lives. But who was I to tell them that? It's not as if they would listen to anything I had to say.
“Life has been,” I paused, “It's been wonderful.” I watched her eyes darken with anger as she pulled off the last of her dress, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She quickly turned to Katniss and Peeta, flashed a cat-like grin.
“Thanks. This has been fun, we should do it again sometime.” With that she flounced out of the open doors. Haymitch whistled.
“Thank you.” Katniss sent him a disgusted look and I disguised a laugh with a cough. As much as I disliked her I could admire her. She was everything the Capitol didn't want her to be and the looks on Katniss and Peetas faces were something. She was confused, he was almost impressed and Haymitch was just like me, trying to not laugh out loud at their reactions
“Johanna Mason, district 7. Won the 71st games by pretending to be weak and then killing the remaining tributes with her axe. Delightful girl.” I rolled my eyes.
“Except for if she hates your guts. So try and get her to like you.” Peeta glanced at me.
“What do you mean?”
“If I know one thing about Johanna Mason, and I think I do. It's that she doesn't care about anyone or anything. And I'm pretty sure she has a hitlist and I'm number 1 on it.”
Before they could answer, the doors opened again and they all got out without a word, leaving me alone to go down again. I leant against the glass, looking out to see peacekeepers crawling about like insects, escorts rushing around for no reason whatsoever, tributes and mentors staying well away from the two former as if they were the plague. The doors pinged open and I made my way down the corridor. I pushed through the double doors and was met with expectant looks from everyone. Mags, Lysander and Finnick all sat at the table.
“I'm not hungry.” I said quickly before they could even ask me to sit.
I practically ran to my room and threw myself on the bed, silk sheets scrunching up under my weight. The door clicked open and I looked up to see Megara standing there with an eyebrow raised.
“They want me to convince you to come out. But I've got better plans for tonight.” She pulled out two tubs of ice cream and a plate of intricately decorated cakes and biscuits. She set them down on the table and waved me over.
“First of all, get changed. There's clothes in the drawers. Second, by my logic if they really wanted you to sit and eat dinner with them they would do it themselves. Third, I brought food,” She picked up a spoon and dug into a tub of ice cream, “And I'm not waiting for you to start. Plus,” She grinned, teeth coated in chocolate,”I want to know everything.”
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#finnick odair x reader#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick odair x you#thg x reader#catching fire#the hunger games#angst#implied finnick odair x annie cresta
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venti when griffin wifey disappears to nest
The anemo archon is freaking out after his wife has suddenly vanished without a trace. After hours of searching with the help of the Favonius Knights and Diluc he discovers she has made a nest in Dvalin's home to lay a clutch of eggs.
TW: none
notes: the format this is written in what we've named a headcanon drabble mix. it will start with hcs and have a drabble at the end or multiple sprinkled throughout it. these will be tagged as headcanon drabble mix, hc drabble mix, or [fandom]hcdm.
chitters and nickers
Wild: I've started playing genshin recently and it's been on my mind a lot. Decided to write somethin' on a whim. Might make more with the same prompt if this one gets a lot of attention.
nya: i wanna squish venti's cheeks
wifey's bird cat mix
european wildcat, white dove, 7 eggs
very likely this was not planned, Venti’s alcoholic tendencies often cause him to forget protection so it was only a matter of time it caught up to him
unexpected pregnancies with female griffins can be absolutely heart attack inducing due to their instincts kicking in immediately once their body realizes what’s happening. bird brains go into maximum overdrive and once it decides where it wants to nest they’re making a beeline to claim said spot and going builder mode asap.
so imagine the archon’s panic when you’re nowhere to be found after being sick and acting weird all week. poor guy is zooming all over the city alongside the knights and Diluc to find you. once he’s combed through the city he uses his godly powers to call for Dvalin’s assistance. but there’s no answer.
Equation: wifey acting odd + wifey missing + dragon friend not responding. Conclusion: something very bad happened. Solution: it is time for panic at the anemo.
shouts at some random pedestrian passing by to gather the knights and meet him at the lair. unfortunately he mistook the stranger as a knight them self due to wearing similar clothes. and on top of that this person was a foreigner. but he’s gone before the misunderstanding can be cleared. now hubby is thought to be missing. what an eventful day for Mondstadt.
creates a crater when he lands outside his friends home. said friend sticks his head out from the crumbling tower with blurry eyes. what was all this racket for? this is the second time he’s been so rudely awoken today! bro already lost hours of sleep from his wife barging in at 1AM to nest and lay eggs. wifey did what now.
the dragon’s grumpiness dissolves once the situation has been cleared. in fact he was laughing in the end. the image of a large number of humans scurrying around in search of a god’s wife thinking the worst when in actuality she’s enjoying baby time in arguably the safest place in the nation is hilarious!
but that’s not important right now you laid eggies sired by him he’s gonna be a dad! this twink of a god can’t contain his excitement. how many did you lay? when will they hatch? how big are they? have they developed enough to be able to hear his voice? can he hold them? too bad you can’t answer, doves can’t mimic sounds and you aren’t reverting back to human for a while.
has no problem with you nesting in Dvalin’s home. in fact he’s all for it. very few humans and monsters dare to intrude on the territory of the anemo dragon once called Storm Terror. no worries here! so long you had no issues he’d stand by your decision! y’know what they say, a mother knows best!
you are never left alone Venti makes sure there’s always one person he trusts to watch over you and your growing kids. if he could he’d be right there in the nest with his family 24/7. the issue is, however, that you’re the breadwinner of the family. and griffin moms to be won’t leave the eggs alone until they’ve hatched. not for food, water, nothing. avian feline mom’s have wills of steel.
it isn’t long before Venti realizes the problem. kids are not cheap to raise. (especially in this economy) so for the first time in history, the anemo archon begins the treacherous and traumatizing journey of job hunting. it was a grueling quest, one of hardships and difficulty like no other. his confidence and ego took many serious blows, wounds inflicted upon them so deep it was feared he might never recover. there were plenty of times he almost gave up, but he persevered! his family was counting on him, he couldn’t give up. and with the power of love and friendship, he was able to slay- jk he just became a part time knight and takes on quick jobs spread across his nation.
this is quite the change to his usual routine but it’s all worth it. every time he returns to his recently grown family is all the motivation he needs. can’t wait for the day he’ll be greeted by a chorus of chirps after a long day of work.
when he isn’t working he’s always near the nest, if he isn’t in it. and more likely than not he’s by a fire cooking up something for you to eat. he’s glad you’ll eat if food is in reach. man’s on his way to becoming a 5 star chef with how much he’s expanding his culinary skills.
when is baby time? it’s always baby time in this house. and everyone is invited to baby time. can’t help but squeal internally whenever you get excited at visitors. leaving the nest just to gently tug them over so they could see the eggs will always be the cutest thing you’ll do to him. how can he not smile when your feathered face shines with pride everytime you present his kids?
finally, the day comes. he’s in the middle of aiding Diluc unload supplies for Angel’s Share when the Mondstadt citizens are given a heart attack by Dvalin suddenly swooping overhead shouting for him to get his butt back to you. get ready folks, it’s time for round 2 of panic at the anemo!
adding a new crater in Dvalin's lawn he runs to your side with heaving lungs all winded and worried. but you seem completely fine? and so do the babies, albeit two are shivering from the chillness of the ruins and being wet having just hatched… wait a minute-
Did you really have to disappear like that? Especially since you’ve been acting strange the past week?
Your side of the bed was cold when he woke up and he thought you had already left for work. The day goes on as normal, some bard performances here, archon duties there, wine shenanigans, nothing out of the ordinary. Until your boss shows up demanding to know where you are just as he was about to take a post lunch nap.
Okay, there’s no need to panic yet. Maybe your boss forgot you weren’t supposed to be in today? Nope, it’s the middle of the week. Maybe you were late getting back from lunch? What do you mean you haven’t been in all day. Were you scheduled to work offsite? No? Okay, now it's time to panic.
He’s fearing the worst as he and the others search for you. His true identity may be a secret to most but that unfortunately wasn’t true for a certain large powerful group that had already stolen from him twice. He hopes this isn’t their doing.
Thankfully the search doesn’t last long. Once the city has been combed through he flies off to get help from Dvalin. His friend can’t help but laugh when told what was going on. That’s when it’s revealed you’ve been in his lair the whole time.
Just as the dragon said, you’ve taken residence in his lair. Showing up in the middle of the night without warning to build a nest. So that’s where all the missing clothes, blankets, and pillows went. Used as cushions for the nest you’ve built in the middle of the night. The nest, might I add, looks very comfortable. You’re loafing self emits a blissful aura, wings drooping lazily at your side and talons tucked under your chest.
Doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Opts for a third option to beeline to you for a hug. But there will be no hugs for him. Dvalin manages to grab him before he can take a few steps.
“I would advise against this approach, Barbatos.” the anemo dragon warns while the archon flails in his talons whining, “less you desire a delay in meeting your offspring.”
The bard freezes at his words. Offspring? Does he mean you were…?
Venti is plopped down a few steps away from you, this time waiting for your acknowledgement before coming close. You are more than happy to have him there. Thank you Dvalin for intercepting, you’d be on guard if you’d seen your husband suddenly running full speed at you.
You raise your wings slightly, doing mini flaps as you call out to him in your beautiful avian voice with enthusiasm. You are practically vibrating in excitement as your mate comes to join you in your nest made of natural and man made materials. The same could be said for him.
“Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!” Venti claps impatiently, ready to see the incubating life underneath your feathers. His eyes somehow manage to get even wider as you sit up. You puff up your chest feathers, head raised high with pride as you reveal the seven eggs you’d laid hours ago.
Venti’s eyes are sparkling with happy tears. Head in hands as he leans forward on his elbows, he studies his growing babies in awe. It pleased him to no end that the shells were decorated in the colors of anemo. If that didn’t scream who sired these eggs then he didn’t know what would.
Hand slightly reaching out, he had intended to wait for the okay like before. But you were offended he had the audacity to think he had to get permission to touch what he had helped to create. And you were going to make your feelings very clear.
Without warning you lunge forward. Small beak clamping on his shirt to jerk him over the edge. The bard lets out a startled yelp, face planting into your wing. Despite being a combination of smaller species of the feline and avian family, you were still quite strong.
“Ow ow ow, was that really necessary love dove?” He rubs his nose. Beak snaps are your reply, pouting at him to hurry up. Your impatience was so great he was denied the option to shake out his hat of feathers and twigs, getting robbed of his head wear. Okay he gets the memo sheesh!
The remainder of the evening is spent snuggled in that nest. Songs of humans and birds are heard late into the night, the voice of a dragon chiming in at times. Peace befalls the land of anemo.
Until it’s shattered by a frantic legion of knights still searching for their god and his wife hours later.
~ time skip yay ~
Venti sobs, clutching his bundle of joy to his chest. It had been nearly half an hour since his firstborn had entered the world yet somehow the tears kept flowing. No matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn’t halt. But could you really blame him?
“You’re going to hyperventilate at this rate. It’s a wonder you haven’t already.”
“I-I-I *sniffle* can’t h-hel- *sob* help i-it!” he hugs his firstborn closer, blurry gaze never leaving his child’s face. “Sh-she-she’s *hiccup* s-so beau- *sniffle* beautiful!” the dragon rolled his eyes. How much longer did he have to listen to his crying?
“Get a hold of yourself. Your hatchlings won’t benefit if both parents are unable to assist due to being unconscious.”
Venti gives a final sniffle before tilting his head up in an attempt to stop the tears. He blinks rapidly, steadying his breath. A quick wipe of the sleeve and it’s back to staring.
He wanted to see every little thing she did. His perfect little feathered treasure.
The hatchling had somehow managed to sleep through his whole cry fest. Cozily wrapped in a quilt and blissfully resting from her first big hurdle. Not even a day old and she had already passed the most important milestone of her life, breaking the shell that had protected her as she grew.
He quickly wiped his eyes again. He’d cried enough today.
Suddenly she yawned, beak opening wide and talons outstretching. Eyes blinking open, she looks up at her father’s puffy face. Venti smiles warmly at her, his own eyes giving her loving slow blinks. His daughter returns the gesture.
She begins to wiggle in his hold, talons reaching to grab his shirt in an attempt to pull herself closer to his face. To save his daughter the trouble he lifts her closer. He chuckles as he nuzzles her face hearing her curious sniffs.
“Hello, little one,” he whispers quietly, planting a kiss on her forehead, “the winds welcome you into the world.”
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin hcs#genshin drabbles#wild’s writing#wild's genshin writing#genshin venti#genshin impact venti#genshin impact venti x reader#venti genshin impact#venti genshin impact x reader#venti x reader#venti x y/n#venti x you#venti headcanons#venti hcs#venti x reader drabble#venti x reader hcs#genshin impact x reader#genshin mondstadt#dvalin#genshin headcanon drabble mix#panic at the anemo#genshin x f!reader
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Time is not angry. In fact, he’s so not angry that he waits until mid-morning to calmly ask to borrow a stable horse for a few hours.
The boys have earned a day of rest and Legend is surprisingly even-tempered. Wind tears through the forest behind the stable as Wild points out items to forage.
Still, he had to double-check, because the safety of his boys always comes first. “Champion, are we safe here?”
Wild glances up, in the process of yanking up a large radish with both hands. His feet are braced against the trunk of a tree as he pulls. “Safe,” he chirps before the radish pops free and he falls to the ground with a thud. His hands come up to sign, ‘Very safe! No monster reports nearby, so we’ll have to travel to keep looking for them. A good place to rest.'
The baseline of worry, ebbing and flowing in a never-ending river, calms slightly. “And what about the surrounding area?”
Wild tilts his head and an ear flicks. Wolfie does the same thing.
“I was thinking of exploring the area just a little; borrowing a horse for a ride?”
The Champion dusts off his hands and points out some more mushrooms when Wind races over, arms full. The new supplies vanish in a swirl of blue and he waves for Time to follow. “My horse is stabled here; you can borrow her. The stable doesn’t rent horses.”
Hmm, an interesting stable. “Why not?”
Wild turns to skip backward so he can switch back to signing. ‘Resources. Before this, it was hard to care for many horses and keep them safe. Bokoblins steal them to ride. Sometimes things happen on the road.’
He shudders and shrugs the thought away. Then he’s at the entrance to the stable and a flurry of sign is passing back and forth.
Twilight is nearby, splitting wood for the communal fire. He pauses and waves before joining Time, looking curiously at where Wild is still signing to the stable master. “What’s going on?”
Time tries for lightness. “Wild says the area here is safe, no monsters, so I was thinking of taking a little ride.”
“I’ll come with you,” his pup immediately volunteers.
“Alone,” Time stresses. Twilight is giving him a look, so he unbends slightly. “Just…need a little break. Everyone does.”
Twilight still doesn’t look happy, but Time isn’t changing his mind. They’re grown-ups; they’ll both be fine with some time apart.
“You wouldn’t happen to be heading in the direction of those ruins, would you?”
Blast his perception. Time merely gives a thin smile. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
A horse is being led around to the front and Wild sidles up to him. Its coat has almost a pinkish hue, equally split with white. The Champion is bouncing on the balls of his feet and the horse nickers as it sees him. Wild coos and takes the reins from the stable hand before letting them drop loosely to the ground. The horse stands patiently.
“This is Cream. She’s not the fastest, but she’s a gentle soul and happy enough to take another rider.” Wild nuzzles into her neck and runs a finger across her carefully braided main.
She’s no Epona, but nothing will replace that horse for Time and she looks sweet. He steps over and holds out a hand for her to sniff. “Thanks for letting me borrow her. I’ll take good care of her.”
Wild spins to pin him with burning blue eyes. “You will. Keep her safe.” His voice grinds on the words and he switches to sign. ‘If monsters attack and you need to dismount, make sure she won’t tangle in the reins. She’s gentle, but she’ll take care of herself. She may run a bit, but she’ll stop and wait where it’s safe.'
Time nods and subtly scoots a few inches back. Wild is mildly terrifying in clear devotion for a horse in his care. “I promise, Champion. We’re just going for a ride.”
Wild nods, frowning as he pats Cream’s coat again. Then he grabs the slate and scrolls till a carrot appears in his hand. Cream wuffs in delight and delicately accepts the snack.
‘If you don’t push her too hard the magic in the carrot will help if you need to get away.’
Strange magic, but Time nods again. Then he edges around Wild to swing into the saddle before the Champion starts listing preferred grooming routines. He’s certainly heard it from Malon before.
“I’ll be out for a few hours, don’t worry. If it’s longer, keep an eye out for Wolfie and he can help track me down.” Twilight knows where he’s going so it’s a moot point anyway.
With a final wave, he kicks Cream into a trot and then a canter, pointing her nose down the path to the Ranch Ruins.
Read the rest here!
#linked moments#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu time#lu wild#lon lon ranch#breannasfluff#my writing#angst#linked universe fanfic
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The Gem of Hateno
The grass underfoot made no noise; heavy boots stepped silently through the glade. The rays of the afternoon sun filtered down from the thick canopy of broad-leafed trees. An inhale, held in the nose. Tall antlers poked out of the underbrush; wild, curious eyes peeking out, scanning the forest for threats.
One arrow nocked. Another dozen in a quiver at his hip. The bowstring groaned softly in his ear as he pulled it taut, lining up the shot.
Exhale.
The buck let out a half-strangled cry of surprise as the arrow lodged itself in his forehead. A loud thump shook the ground as the animal fell.
Silence once more.
Link crept through the grass and bushes, careful not to get himself tangled in any stray climbing vines that snaked across the forest floor. He stopped where the buck fell, whistling low to himself as he counted the points on the antlers. Fourteen. His best one this week. A quick scan of the buck solidified his estimations. He’d get a good price on this one. The muscles were thick, and the pelt unscarred.
Grabbing the buck under the front legs, Link hoisted it onto his shoulder. The antlers dangled back and forth as he walked it out to the edge of the forest. A black-dappled horse nickered as he approached. Foxes and ducks hung by ropes on the saddlebags – the morning’s hunt.
Link clicked his tongue in reply, grinning at his companion. He patted the white part of its neck before tossing the buck across the horse’s hips. “Not bad, huh, Spot?” Link secured the buck with ropes, giving them a few tugs to ensure their strength. He climbed onto Spot’s back, taking the mount’s reins and turning them back toward the village. A distant bell chimed, its hollow clanging ringing through the valley. He counted four tolls.
The children would have gone home two hours ago. Dantz’s shop will close in an hour. Link grinned to himself, remembering the last time he walked up that hill at five. Dantz saw him coming a long ways off and stood at the edge of the farm with his arms crossed. “I should have known I wouldn’t get to close up early today.” The older man huffed, shaking his head. “There is such a thing as being too good of a hunter, you know.”
Thadd waved as Link rode in through the gate. “What, not a Bokoblin this time?”
Link laughed. “’Fraid not. Why? Seen one?”
Thadd shrugged. “Not personally. Met a traveler earlier who said there was a camp near the Cliffs of Quince.”
Link raised a brow, his grip on the reins tightening. It would take two hours to ride out that way, even at a moderate clip. He’d have to drop off the haul first…
Thadd waved his hands. “I’m sure there’s no need to go bolting off that way now. It didn’t sound urgent. A couple of red ones, no more than three, and they didn’t even notice him on the road. He just heard them squealing up on top of the cliff.” He scratched his chin. “If you do go hunting them tomorrow, I know a few of us are interested in joining you. Don’t head off too early without us.”
Link nodded, half-listening. Just because monsters weren’t a present problem didn’t mean they wouldn’t be a problem later. Too many travelers had fallen prey to even the weakest ones on his journeys. The monster control crews couldn’t be everywhere at once. Toren’s crew last sent word from Akkala two weeks ago. Some Bokoblins escaped the raid. Maybe they moved further south…?
No, that would have head them through the Domain. They wouldn’t have made it past Sidon’s patrols.
“Link?” Thadd’s voice cut into Link’s thoughts. “Don’t tell me you were really thinking of heading off there tonight.”
“What? No, no…” Yes. Link shook his head. “Only three red ones?”
“That’s what the guy said.” Thadd replied, crossing his arms.
Link chewed the inside of his cheek. Yeah. It could wait. He flicked the reins, bidding Spot to walk on. “I’ll meet you in the morning.”
Three Bokoblins. He could dispatch them by himself. But if anyone wanted to join the hunt, he wouldn’t stop them. They might come across something more dangerous lurking the caves. He’d flushed out as many as he came across on his travels, but that was no guarantee that nothing else moved in since then. More swords would be helpful – just in case.
The sounds of the village surrounded Link down the main road. Children ran through the fields, laughing and playing, swinging around sticks like swords and axes. Shopkeepers called out to tourists and locals alike, advertising their wares. CeCe’s mushroom fabric brought as many new faces to town as the rediscovery of cheese did. Though both of these influences paled in comparison to the real gem of Hateno: Princess Zelda.
His heart still swelled. Scouring every inch of the Depths and Sky, awakening the Sages, facing the unimaginable ancient evil that slumbered for so long beneath Hyrule Castle (twice, he might add)… it was all worth it to see her bright smile when she finally came home to Hateno. And while he thought himself the most excited to see her safely return, his own enthusiasm could not compete with the combined exuberance of her students.
The very same who now ran in front of his horse!
He pulled back on the reins just in time to avoid trampling Azu. Spot whinnied in surprise as the boy whirled around, seemingly unaware of his own near-imminent injury. The boy jumped back and dropped his stick, his eyes wide.
“S- sorry, Mr. Link!” The boy stammered, his face turning red.
Sefaro snickered from the side of the road, having darted across earlier. “Some hero you’ll make, Azu! Heroes don’t get trampled by horses!”
Link patted Spot’s neck, assuring him that the boy wasn’t a danger. “Usually, anyway. You okay?”
Azu’s face still burned red, though he met Link’s gaze. “Yeah. We were playing Heroes and Monsters. I guess I got a little carried away being the hero…”
“Guess which one I am!” Sefaro called out, making his best monster face, baring his teeth and shaping his hands like claws. “Rawrrrr!”
Link tilted his head. Not any monster that he knew. Bokoblins didn’t roar, if that could be called a roar. Lynels roared, but they didn’t use their claws. The stance resembled a Bokoblin, hunched over at the hips. “Even monsters watch out for their friends.” That was a lie, but it got the point across.
Sefaro had the decency to look almost ashamed for leading his playmate into the road. The boy frowned, dropping his monster-pose. “Yes, sir.”
With a nod, Link flicked the reins again. Spot walked on.
Dantz looked up as he heard Link’s approach up the stone-lined road. The man wiped his hands on his apron and stepped out from around his shop stall, crossing his arms and looking the younger man up and down. “Well now, what have you got for me?”
Link pulled back on the reins, bidding Spot to stop so he could dismount. “One buck. Three foxes. Four ducks.” One skillful tug at the rope and the knot came loose, freeing the buck to slide off Spot’s back and into Link’s arms. He raised a brow at Dantz, glancing behind him to the hooks where other game was being drained and processed.
The older man scratched his beard. “Don’t worry about hanging it. I don’t have the room for something like that at the moment.” He gestured toward one of the goats, dried scarlet staining white fur down its neck. “I’ll take that one down tonight and put the buck in its place. You can set that down on that spare table there.”
Old wood groaned as Link set the buck as carefully as he could on the wobbly surface. He’d offer to repair it himself, out of courtesy, except the last time Link tried to help build or repair anything without Ultrahand ended with a chunk of birch in his palm. He flexed his hand at the memory. At least that wasn’t the new one… He didn’t know whether to thank Hylia or Rauru or both, but he was glad to have his own flesh back. Even if the powers were pretty useful.
“Eh, these are a little scrawny…” Dantz commented.
Link turned, glaring at Dantz.
“I’m just saying!” Dantz replied, shaking his head. “These foxes are probably out-competing each other. Fox meat’s already tough enough as it is. These aren’t worth preparing for sale.”
The three foxes, lined up next to one another on Dantz’s work table, did have a little less flesh about the ribs than usual. The foxes that darted through Hyrule Field, and especially those in Tabantha, always fetched a good price. Hateno foxes… not so much.
“The ducks look good, though.” Dantz continued, examining the wings and weighing the birds in his hands. “I’ll give you ten each for the ducks, fifty for the buck, and five for the foxes. Their pelts are still worthwhile.”
Link considered the offer. Fifty for the buck? With antlers like that? “Seventy-five.”
Dantz gawked. “You messing with me? No way I’m doing seventy-five. Fifty’s more than fair for this animal.”
“The meat and pelt, maybe.” Link replied. He took hold of one of the antlers at the base, showing it to Dantz as if it escaped the man’s notice. “These alone are worth thirty.”
The older man ground his jaw, reluctantly considering the antlers. “Hmph. Sixty.”
“Seventy.”
“Sixty-five.”
“Deal.” Link stuck out his hand, grinning broadly at the much-bewildered Dantz.
The butcher shook his hand, clicking his tongue. “Who woulda thought the hero would be such a haggler?” Dantz released Link’s hand, heading toward the farmhouse door. “The princess placed an order for sausages this morning. I’ll send you back with those, too.”
Link leaned against one of the stall’s support pillars, looking out at the pastures nearby. Cows and sheep lazily grazed bright green blades of grass, lowing and bleating to each other. Tokk, ever on his stool beside the apple tree, dozed in the shade, occasionally pretending to keep a watch on the sheep by opening one eye before resting his head again on the bark. The pond rippled and shimmered in the afternoon light. Birds chirped and sang, flitting through the orchard. Were it not for the stench of blood, it would have been quite a pleasant afternoon. The occupational hazard of butchers and hunters.
Dantz returned shortly with a sack weighed down with what Link assumed must be sausages, given the shape of the lumps inside. After handing the sack to Link, he offered a silver rupee. “Sixty-five for the buck, thirty for the ducks, and fifteen for the foxes, minus ten for the sausage.”
Link opened his mouth to protest that there was no way he was actually selling venison sausage for ten rupees, but Dantz cut him off before he got the chance.
“I’m sure the princess is waiting for you, Link. I’ve got work to do on what you’ve brought me, and standing around arguing about it isn’t going to put dinner on the table any faster for either of us.” Dantz, despite the dismissal in his words, still held a twinkle of teasing his eyes.
With a huff of annoyance and resignation, Link pocketed the rupees. He would discuss the price of sausages with someone. Either Dantz or Zelda. Ten was ridiculous…
Spot started trotting away as soon as Link mounted him again, snorting the smell of the shop out of his large nostrils. The trip back down the road and across the bridge always went by faster with a lighter load, and Spot’s eagerness to get back home rivaled only Link’s. Hay, salt, and a cozy stall awaited one, and for the other…
No matter how many times he rode across the bridge, Spot’s hooves clopping onto the wooden planks, he never tired of the sight of the front door swinging open.
His heart leapt into his throat.
Her blue eyes sparkled behind wind-teased blonde hair, her radiant smile lighting him up from the inside out. Her lean frame, dressed in the plainness of a Hateno apron with a streak of Champion blue about her waist, stood as a goddess amongst mere mortal trappings.
Five months. For five months he’d had her back, thanked Hylia every day for her smile, her hand in his, her laugh in his ear, her wit, her sweetness, her intelligence, her beauty, her.
Zelda.
Goddess above, when she turned that lovely smile on him… he could forget.
“Welcome home, Sir Knight.” Her old pet name for him rolled so easily off her tongue and into his soul. “How was the hunt?”
“Good.” He answered, hopping off Spot a little quicker than he probably should have, almost stumbling to keep himself upright with the jolt of impact that lurched through his bones. His cheeks warmed, especially as she laughed softly. “Ah, I’ll put Spot up for the night.”
“I’ll be waiting inside. Have you brought the-?”
Link held up the bag, which made Zelda’s smile even more. He’d bring her sausages every day, even if they cost fifteen rupees.
“Excellent. I’ve this new recipe I’d like to try.” She took the bag from his hand, her soft fingers brushing against the scars on his knuckles. “The East Wind had Goron spice for sale today.”
Link’s heart could practically melt just standing in her presence, and almost broke when she waved him into action. Such sweet tragedy, to leave her for a moment to put Spot away. He imagined this is what a puppy feels like when its owner closes the door – he didn’t think he whimpered like one too, but there was always a chance.
Fresh hay and water from the well filled Spot’s troughs. Link led his horse into the stall, locking the door into place once the tail finally swished inside. Their evening ritual nearly complete, Link plucked a ruby-red apple from the tree behind the house and held it out in his flat palm for Spot to take.
“Beats mountain-climbing, huh?” Link joked as Spot sent sloppy chunks of apple tumbling to the grass. “Get some rest. Bright and early tomorrow to get those Bokoblins.” He patted Spot’s nose once more for good measure before heading inside.
The smell of sizzling sausage wafted into his nose as soon as he opened the door. His stomach growled loudly, which alerted Zelda to his presence before he even said a word to her.
Zelda merely laughed, a tinkling bell in his ears. “I’m glad you’re hungry. I probably made too much.” She stirred something bubbling at a rapid boil around in the pot on their stove.
Sausage. Goron spice. Tomatoes. And… he gave the air a curious sniff. Fresh bread? She doesn’t bake… A quick glance at the table confirmed. No, she didn’t bake that loaf. The tell-tale flower-shaped scores gave away the true origin: Prima.
Link plopped down on the stool by the door, tugging off one boot at a time. His feet ached from the day’s work; the freedom afforded by just his stockings a much-needed relief. Maybe he’d gotten soft in the months following the battle. He marveled at how he used to climb mountains and swim rivers day in and out without needing much rest at all. And that time he’d jumped into the Depths and emerged with sackfuls of Zonaite, amazed to discover a whole week had gone by without sleep or sunlight. Now, he was spoiled. And, if he really thought about it, probably gaining a little weight. He curiously pressed a hand against his own waist as he watched Zelda cook, muttering recipe details to herself. A measure of flesh gave way under his fingertips before a layer of hard muscle. Yep. He was spoiled. And he was more than happy to let Zelda spoil him as much as she desired. Goddess knows he does the same for her.
With the boots kicked off by the door, Link joined Zelda at the stove, watching her progress with intense curiosity. “I thought you didn’t like curry.”
Perhaps another would assume that the redness in her cheeks emerged from the heat of the cooking. Her blue eyes darted toward him a moment before looking away. “Yes, well… I wanted to try it again. Tastebuds can change over time, you see. And it has been a long time since I’ve had it. Tens of thousands of years. I might as well give it another go.”
“Mhm.” Link kissed her blushing cheek, his heart beating faster at her smile. “Do dragons eat curry?”
“I don’t know what dragons eat. If they eat at all. They’re immortal. They probably don’t need to.” She frowned, the question tumbling over in her mind. “Which doesn’t make any sense at all, if you think about it. They fly around constantly. That must have been exhausting. And yet I don’t think I- they ever ate anything. Where do they get the energy, I wonder? Some connection to the goddess? Not to mention the harvesting of dragon parts. Those scales and horns do break off sometimes and-“ She stopped suddenly, looking very intensely into Link’s eyes. “Darling, did you… harvest from me?”
Now it was Link’s turn to blush. He laughed sheepishly, rubbing his neck and glancing anywhere but her accusing eyes. “What? No! That’d be so disrespectful!”
Her princess-y eyebrows knit together, her lips pursed. “Hm. A shame. I have no doubt that such concentrated divinity would have been extremely useful to you in your task. There’s no telling what sort of energy could have been channeled through even one scale.”
Link blinked, too stunned to speak.
Zelda spoke enough for the both of them. “It’s of little concern, I suppose. I don’t know how I’d feel about seeing a shard of my former self. I wonder if it’d be like a piece of broken nail or a fallen strand of hair. Inconsequential, you know?. Though it may be much more than that. Maybe there’d still be some divine radiance about the shards. If the other dragons can impart elemental energy to their scales, those of a light dragon would have abilities yet untested. By me, at least. Necessarily.”
He couldn’t keep the goofy smile off his face as she talked herself through a theory. A new chance to marvel at her intelligence presented itself with every dawn. He could listen to her talk for hours about science and speculation. The way her eyebrows worked and her lips pressed together and her tone shifted in pitch as she considered different angles of a problem. “You’re my divine radiance.”
“Ah, oh.” Zelda blushed again. “Thank you. And you’re my…” She scrunched up her nose, trying to think of something clever and poetic. “Darling hero.” She nodded to herself, confirming her best effort at romance.
Despite himself, Link snorted a laugh in response. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his head against her neck. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re cooking delicious food.”
“Hm.” Zelda hummed softly, resuming her stirring. A new sound rose in her chest, vibrating through her body and into his. A soft tune, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, warbling only when Link kissed her neck and her breath caught.
He missed her. He missed this. Humming her songs to himself when he cooked was a poor substitute for her voice. His arms tightened around her. Meals tasted better with a song, she’d said. He’d hummed so many in her absence. He hummed clinging to her fur as she wound a slow pace through the skies. He much preferred her like this, where he could wrap both arms around her and hold her and kiss her and listen to her song jump whenever he nibbled at her ear. Soft fur and a gentle glow were nice, he supposed. A poor substitute for the real thing.
“Link, I…” Zelda paused her song, her voice just as quiet in speech as music.
“Hm?” He pressed his lips to her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck and to her shoulder. Her chest expanded with gathered breath. He loosened his grasp to accommodate.
“I need to ask you something.” Her tone held a note of seriousness that made Link look up, breaking him out of the trance she’d put him in. “How would you feel if… a child lived with us?”
The question stunned him. A child? Which one? For how long? That was quite a question! Are their parents that desperate for a break? He couldn’t blame them. He’d probably be exhausted and looking for someone to take the little menaces off his hands for a couple days too. “Not Sefaro.”
“What?” Zelda turned in his arms, facing him. The wooden spoon slid, forgotten, into the curry. Well shit. He’d have to grab another from the wall rack. “No, not Sefaro. A… a different child.”
Link released his princess, getting another ladle off the wall. The length of this one wouldn’t fall into the curry so easily. The other kids didn’t annoy him so much. Sefaro was the odd one out. The boy had threatened to dye Link’s hair in his sleep, and Link wasn’t sure the kid wasn’t capable of carrying it out. As long as it wasn’t Sefaro… “Sure. When? For how long? I promised Thadd I’d go monster hunting tomorrow morning. We won’t be back until late, so I can’t watch-“
“Forever.” Zelda interjected, nervously pulling at her apron strings.
Link nearly dropped the spoon from his hands. He frowned, setting it down into the bowl before answering. His estimation was right. There was no way that would fall into the pot. “Are one of the kids in danger?”
Zelda shook her head, biting her lower lip. “No. I’m not speaking of the children you know.”
Not a child he knows…? “Zel, I’m not following. How can I agree to watch a kid I don’t know? Doesn’t that seem a little unsafe to you?”
She was never very good at hiding things from him. Though he didn’t recall much of his previous life, he knew the way she shifted when she didn’t want to admit something she was ashamed of. The way she balled her fists before mustering the courage to speak. For the years after the Calamity, he’d seen it so infrequently that he wondered if she was still capable of such hesitation. And yet here she was, in their kitchen, trepid as a newborn foal. He wracked his brain to think of why she would suddenly stop trusting him. Had he done something to weaken that trust? Granted, he did let her fall into a crumbling pit of darkness and get sucked into the ancient past and turn into a wyrm. But other than that, he was a model husband!
Her lips parted, and her blue eyes met his. “I mean… a child of our own.”
His heart slammed inside his chest. Could she hear that? There’s no way she couldn’t hear that. All the water left his mouth in an instant as he pieced together what she was trying to convey. He tried and failed to produce words several times, his brain short-circuiting without forming a coherent sentence. He finally managed to eek out a cracked “Really?”
His princess nodded, taking his hands in hers and… placing his palms against her stomach. “Really.”
He couldn’t help it. His gaze stayed transfixed on his hands, broad against her waist. A soft waist, tied round with Champion blue. An odd lump rose in his throat as he tried to process it all. A child. Their child. His and Zelda’s. Their. Child. A real actual honest to Goddess baby.
“Holy shit.”
“Link!” Zelda snapped. “That’s not exactly the response a lady wants when she tells her husband that she’s pregnant. Something a little more refined or reverent even would be more appropri- Mph!”
Link’s mouth slammed against hers, suddenly desperate for her again. His arms snaked around her shoulders, sliding down her to waist and pulling her as close as he could manage. A baby. A baby! No other thoughts jumped about his mind so much as that single word. Not even the delicious scent of curry could pull him away from her. And when he felt her nails gently combing across his scalp, he needed nothing else in the world to be so incredibly, incandescently, perfectly happy. He thought Zelda was all he ever wanted. All he ever needed. And yet, a baby? Their baby? He’d considered it, as a distant possibility, many times. Among other idle daydreams that kept him going on endless nights of restless travel… Yes. He’d imagined this. He’d imagined holding a toddler’s hand and teaching them to walk. Correcting a child’s form as they held a sword or pulled back a bowstring. Carrying a little Zelda on his shoulders as he traveled. All of these were fantasies. Were fantasies. And every single one, in a moment, might become real.
He pulled back, his desperation for her giving way to his lungs’ cries for air. He sucked in a warm breath, unable to keep the grin off his face as he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you.”
The pads of her fingers traced small shapes at the nape of his neck, her pinky curling around the tiny hairs that escaped his ponytail. “I love you, too, my handsome knight.” She placed a quick, closed-lips kiss on the tip of his nose. “So much.”
His heart might give out right here and now, with how hard it beat against his ribs. He’d faced down white-maned Lynels with less adrenaline in his veins! He laughed softly, as it seemed the only way to diffuse the excess mirth that bubbled out of his chest. “So, what now?”
“Now?” Zelda repeated, a little confused. “I guess we prepare. Starting with-“ She gave the air a sniff. “Oh! Stopping the curry from burning!”
#the title isn't going to stay#i just dont know what else to call it so that's what we're going with for now#loz link#totk link#loz zelda#totk zelda#post totk#loz fanfic#totk fanfic#kidfic#tw animal death#it opens with a hunting scene#zelink#totk zelink#a lullaby for a princess
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(centaur au)
Will Eclipse get revenge on Lunar for zapping him? If yes, how?
Also do you have any random facts/hcs about any of the centaurs?
I'm sooo interested in this AU that you can't even imagine
Yes, Eclipse will definitely be getting revenge on Lunar later (it will most likely involve snakes - I don’t think Lunar in canon is afraid of snakes, at least not that I recall, though centaur Lunar is, I kinda imagine it how Toothless and the other dragons in httyd are scared of eels)
Oh yeah I have LOTS of random fun facts/headcanons for this au >:)
Starting off with gender/sexuality headcanons :
Lunar is trans and uses they/he pronouns, pan
Earth is panromantic demisexual and uses she/they
Solar is pan and uses he/they
Sun uses any pronouns (he/she/they), bi
Moon is aroace, uses he/him
Eclipse is demiromantic pansexual and agender, uses he/him
(BM twins) Scarlet (twin 1) - genderfluid, pan | Whiskey (twin 2) - nonbinary (masc leaning), uses they/he and is biromantic grey-ace
Ruin is unlabeled, def queer tho, and uses they/them
KC is bisexual and uses he/him
Now onto other random facts/headcanons :
The BM twins in this au are obligate carnivores (most centaurs are omnivores like humans—in my headcanon anyway- so the twins are an abnormality)
The twins are separate in this au and that is how they have always been though they still have a very close connection to each other
The nick/tear in Solar’s ear is from a tracker that he ripped out of his ear sometime before meeting the others
Solar has a bit of a southern accent in this au (I may do voice claim stuff tho still unsure)
Instead of coming from his time in space like in canon, Lunar’s star powers were just something he was born with that lay dormant in him until later on (the astrals of course knew he had these powers the whole time but didn’t appear until they started to manifest)
KC is the tallest as well as the oldest in this au (with Eclipse being a close second in height) and Lunar is the shortest (and the only one based off a pony)
KC’s right ear is permanently flattened due to an injury from years ago (you can see this on his ref sheet)
All of them display horselike behaviors (because as many already know I LOVE characters with physical animal traits that also have behavioral traits)
These behaviors include :
vocal (snorting, squealing, whinnying, nickering, etc)
stomping hooves when annoyed/upset or sending an alarm to others
ear emotes (laid flat - angry, swiveling rapidly - anxious/nervous, pricked - alert/interested, etc)
when excited or playing they may nip and bump each other and/or chase each other around
charging/false charging (Eclipse is well known for doing this both to other centaurs and people)
They may be centaurs but they are still of course half horse and have prey responses/behavior, especially when it comes to things that could be a threat to them (wild cats, wolves, other large predators, snakes, etc)
some have stronger reactions to this prey response than others (though again the twins are the odd ones out and have little fear for other predators with them being more like a predator themselves)
during the fall and winter their coats get thicker and fluffier and in the spring and summer they thin back out
They all live with their own little “herds” —Moon and Sun’s herd (them, Lunar, Earth, Solar, eventually Eclipse), KC’s herd (KC + the twins)—Ruin’s the odd one out in this as they don’t belong to either herd
(There’s other behaviors they do but these are some of the most common/notable)
That’s all the random little facts/headcanons I have for now, I don’t want this post getting too long lol
Thank you for giving me an excuse to infodump :D
#bee talks#centaur au#tsams au#tsams#sun and moon show#tsams eclipse#tsams moon#tsams sun#tsams killcode#tsams kc#tsams lunar#tsams earth#tsams solar#tsams ruin#tsams bloodtwins#tsams bloodmoon#I may have projected a little#*sweats in pan and nonbinary*
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BOTW Link X F!Reader ~ Pt. 2
Restless crickets filled the night air with their song as flickering campfire light dancing across your being. The pads of your fingers were so blistered and sore that they threatened to bleed as medicated cloth was clumsily wrapped around each digit. They each stung with white hot pain when coming into contact with the special ointment, threatening to make your eyes water with tears, until a knot secured each to the best of your ability with the aid of your teeth’s tug. Nickering drew your attention to the nearby herd of wild horses who had wandered close out of curiosity to the scents of warmed apples you had cooking atop of sticks. They were such beautiful animals, with their glistening coats and powerful muscles rippling with each movement. Their leader, a mighty black stallion with a piercing gaze, wearily watched as you plucked one of the now darkened apples and tossed it in his herd’s direction. It was he who first approached to ensure it was not a threat and much to your surprise he took the offering to one of the very pregnant mares who was slow to stand. It would not be long before her foal would enter the world it seemed.
A twig snapping turned your head to the right. Whatever it may be, wild animal or traveler, you prepared for the worst possible encounter…only to be met by the wide set eyes of a wobbly foal that looked to be just a few hours old. It’s coat was still damp, making it shiver in the cold night air, its nostrils flaring when you offered a mushy overcooked apple. Large ears that it would eventually grow into swiveled as a tune rose up your throat in a series of hums. You kept your volume low when spotting its mother slowly come up behind it, as if she were curious to what her child was being fed, her ears also tilting every which way in response to your song.
Using a grass whistle would be alarming to them at such close range. It had been a near bizarre concept but watching as the blue eyed Hylian played song after song was enchanting as each note echoed across whatever landscape was before him. A few of the songs had names, such as the one you currently hummed he’d made for Epona, while others remained nameless.
Pain flared within your bandaged fingertips when the foal suckled them, earning several alarmed snorts from the large animals when you hissed softly.
Immediately the stallion was shoving his offspring towards its mother with a warning stomp. His eyes bore into yours, promising that if you repeated the noise punishment would be severe, ears flattening against his skull when you began humming once more. He would not so easily be fooled as the many members of his herd had been. In the campfire, his coat shone brighter than precious obsidian stone that twitched in response to him nearing a point of action if you didn’t do something quick.
What the two of you noticed in unison was the herd of wolves that had slowly appeared from the tall shrubs and grass.
Screaming filled the air as you twirled, hands and fingers exclaiming profusely at the familiar actions when notching an arrow within your bow, the horses shrill panic nearly rendering you deaf as they were joined by hunger filled howls. They scattered when you loosed the arrow, which landed too far to be of any use thanks to a surge of pain up your arm that affected your aim, making you reach back for another when the glowing amber eyes appeared ahead.
This wolf must be the alpha. It was nearly twice the size of the others with dark midnight fur appearing so thick that arrows might be useless against it. Saliva glistened as it dripped from its parted jaws, showcasing sharp teeth that could easily tear away flesh until all that was left was bone and even then they looked capable of rendering a stalhorse to dust. A few wolves that had been following his flank fanned out as if to pursue the horses but they were summoned back courtesy of their leader’s snout rising to the sky with a hair raising howl.
With the campfire to your right and the wolves surrounding all around, there was nowhere to run.
It was time to fight.
A good time as any to test your current skill.
Whistling, the arrow you notched then released vanished from sight was following by a high pitched yelp. You’d taken aim between a pair of amber eyes that were the closest but still too far for the campfire to illuminate. Looks like you still missed. They were still there, however now they were filled with anger as their owner ignored the alpha’s command to stay back. Teeth flashed with a dangerously glint as they made to bury themselves within your forearm if not for your swift dodge. Its speed suddenly seemed sluggish as you readied a different weapon, this one a short sword, and delivered a single strike to its side that sent it rolling out of sight to where the pack’s leader watched with narrowed eyes. Would it attack as a form of revenge for you hurting its comrade?
Almost too far within your peripheral vision to clearly see appeared a wolf that made to attack the foal and pregnant mare. In unison, the stallion and you released battle cries which intermixed as the two of you took action; his deadly hooves taking aim at the wolf’s flank, causing the wild canine to dodge to the side and right into your arrow’s path that had been carefully aimed then fired. An audible crack sounded, signifying that it had pierced through the soft spot of the wolf’s skull, and it fell into an unmoving heap. The pain returned to your now throbbing fingers as you lowered the bow, meeting the gaze of the pack’s alpha. Nature had a law above all else, survival of the fittest and smartest, which it seemed to regard you with now a cautious gaze rather than one of hunger. You weren’t the helpless prey they had thought you were.
Then the wolves were gone with faint bark-like growls as they disappeared completely into the night.
From the herd came a series of nickers before the mare and foal made their way to where you stood. It was the foal who first reached you, giving you a solid head butt to the chest before its chin rose to tap against your shoulder. Then the mare took her turn to bestow her thanks by means of tucking you against her side as if you were her child then dragging a wet tongue across your cheek.
Through the night air a shrill whiny pierced the air closely followed by the sound of thundering hooves against the earth.
And the herd, with its leader casting you one last glance, vanished as if they had been nothing more than smoke.
Only the remaining traces of moisture upon your skin and the faintest of hoof prints within the grass were testimony that the herd had been here at all.
The thundering footfalls slid to a halt, followed by a whiny and familiar sounds of boots hitting the earth, hands turning you around by the shoulders so that your gaze met azure. His and Epona’s quick breathing told of their haste in returning from hunting for dinner meaning that they must have seen everything unfold just now. You held perfectly still as Link looked over you from head to toe, lightly touching with calloused fingers anywhere there could be injury until coming to a halt when you flinched when they found your dominate wrist. Within its inside fold was a steadily growing bruise that bloomed like a flower the more his fingers worked. Blue eyes glanced back towards the fire where they spotted torn cloth and a small bottle containing the same herbal medicine that he himself had made before they fell to your fingers. He’d offered both once training had been done for the day however the magnitude of bandages surprised even him.
With strain, you forced each finger to curl until they loosely enclosed around his much larger ones to the best of their ability, giving the lightest of squeezes. It was your fault for not being a better student. Though the concepts had been simple there were still a few aspects which caused you struggle. Close combat in particular was going to take some getting used to.
The Hylian Champion returned the squeeze then allowed your fingers to slip from his grasp. Though you turned to gather the fallen sword you could feel his gaze watching your motions. He had suspected that you were pushing farther today than usual. Had you honestly thought he missed how your limbs trembled when sheathing the weapon or the grimaces while moving? Without explanation, his hands quickly removed both sword and bow from your possession to place them upon Epona’s saddle where the spares were then slung the heavy saddle off her back with a huff. It was placed within the campfire circle’s light followed by him tossing you a bottle filled with leather polish then he walked off to where the fallen wolf lay.
No farther instruction was needed and you set to work.
Even from this distance he was unable to keep his gaze upon the work at hand. Through the darkness his azure gaze committed every graceful movement you made while focusing upon making the saddle practically shine as Epona settled behind you. The flickering campfire threw dancing shadows across your features as the breeze played with your hair. It’s been a while since the two of you had begun traveling together; nearly a month now if memory served right. He’d seen you make many faces from wonderment of seeing a dragon to the disgust when a recipe didn’t turn out the greatest. Link wasn’t sure which was his favorite but it was the fleeting glances you shared while riding together that made that little seed within his chest warm a little more. That wasn’t entirely true, he inwardly admitted, the expression of determination and focus you wore when protecting the wild horses was photo worthy. Pelt cleaned and portions of meat in hand, he returned to the circle where Epona kept you within and sat across from you with a huff. Of course the swordsman felt you curious gaze as he began wrapping the meat within proper storage cloths or containers for them to be used later. Deep within him rose something carnal the longer his fingers remained upon the pelt. Phantom memories rose of paws instead of his feet sprinting across the ground, growls rising up his throat when an unknown creature made to lash out. Something brushed his cheek, making the blood pound faster within his ears as he growled lowly from the brief flare of pain—
“Link!”
Adrenaline lacing through his system like belladonna froze at your shout. The memories that weren’t his faded until he found himself hovering over you, one hand high above as if preparing to strike while the other pinned you to the ground, his knees on either side of your hips which prevented you from kicking. Firelight illuminated your expression of shock, along with the faint tint of pink within your cheeks and disheveled clothing, almost as if you had been physically wrestling someone. Both of your hands were grasping desperately at his clothing, as if you were trying to shake him awake. One rose to rest its palm against his cheek when his eyes finally met your own. It was the glint of concern within your gaze that tore at his being and caused the gravity of your positions to hit him harder than a Goron’s blow. Anyone else would have been fearful of such a display yet here you were uncaring of another attack while attempting to comfort his racing heart with repetitive circles your thumb traced beneath his eye. Bitter tasting guilt plagued his tongue as the moon above your heads came out from beneath a cloud to expose your flushed skin and a mark that looked an awful lot like human teeth upon your exposed shoulder.
The moment he released you was the instant your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, as if attempting to prevent him from backing away completely as he sat backward with a tremor. You were holding onto him as tight as possible despite him attempting to remove himself. If you let go now, it felt as though he was going to slip away to somewhere you couldn’t reach. Again and again you softly whispered his name while rocking slightly until he relaxed against your form. Though you were smaller it was not so much that he had to bend down completely so that your gazes could meet.
His seemed to beg for forgiveness, maybe even understanding of what had just happened, but above those they seemed to be fighting back tears. This clearly wasn’t the sole time it had happened to him. However this was the only one you’ve witnessed to your knowledge.
You shifted so that your back rested against Epona and carefully maneuvered the doll-rendered warrior until his head rested against your chest as comfortably as possible. The band holding back his hair was removed courtesy of your careful fingers which began to gently comb through his golden locks as his eyes drifted closed when you’d begun to hum softly. Even now you could still see the faint glyphs of twilight lingering within his aura along with the echoes of a hair raising howl. That must have been another hero who had passed in ancient times. Eventually, once his breathing had leveled into the rhythm that suggested he was asleep, your gaze wandered towards the pelt.
….
Rain hammered against your beings, lightning forking across the darkened sky to briefly blind you as Epona neighed with worry when the swordsman stood motionless upon the cliff head. A stable wasn’t too far away which meant that it was the halfway point to Tarrey Town, that’s where you’d been going until a storm swept the three of you up within a vortex of wind and rain. The shared steed rose up onto hind legs when a bolt of lightning struck too close and disappeared into the distance with a shrill scream of terror. Alarm filled you when something akin to elation filled his features when his head rose upwards so the rain fell upon his face, strange cloud shapes appearing within his aura that weren’t supposed to be there.
No matter how many times you called his name, he still acted as though your calls never reached him despite your struggling through rain and wind to get closer. It’s been a little over a week since the last emergence of a past persona, and he had confided in you that they occasionally happen while traveling. What did prove in his growing trust of you was the confession relating to their frequency.
For some reason they were happening more often since you’ve been traveling with the Champion.
But why?
From within the bag upon your back appeared the pelt you’d tucked away, quickly drawing it over your frame and lowering to the ground so that your height better resembled an actual wolf. He’d had a reaction to the pelt before so it would stand to good reason he would have another. Taking the deepest inhale you could, your head lifted high with a howl that instantly earned the gaze of the blue eyed Hylian. They grew wide when finding your form, familiar phantoms appearing within their depths that spoke of rivaling personas. Another howl rose up your throat when he slowly unsheathed the sword upon his back.
Somehow you had to get the Link you knew back.
He rushed forward with a quick step, the blade glistening with rain as it was raised. You knew this stance; he was going for a downward sweep. Meaning that you only had one true option to escape: dodging forward.
Tucking your head lowly, you used the momentum from the dodge to collide against his figure, sending the two of you barreling until empty air met your back. The pelt disappeared from your hold to be replaced by his face momentarily cupped between your hands as the paraglider appeared from his pack. Those azure eyes of his widened, pupils shrinking as they cleared from the haze that had been obscuring them, as you continued to fall despite him remaining within the air. “Come back.”
Even to you, the whisper was lost to the wind and rain.
Yet he somehow heard.
It was enough to make those two presences completely withdraw from him, leaving the golden haired Hylian to stare down at your falling form. “(Y/n)!” The paraglider folded, allowing him to dive at a near neck breaking speed until your form met his own. His arms wrapped so tightly around you as the awaiting ocean rushed to greet the two of you and pivoted so that he took the brunt force from the salty water instead of you. Last he remembered the Lakeside Stable had just come into view when the first few droplets of rain met his being. What had possibly triggered this rise of a foreign persona was beyond his speculation as your unconscious being floated above his own. Your hair was splayed like a halo around you, as were your clothing, bubbles tickling your bare skin as the two of you lay suspended within the water.
A swift kick sent him forward, allowing his arms to cradle your being against his own, just before a current tossed you both to shore.
Sand buried itself into places that would take weeks to remove as he drug you upon the beach, internally making note to apologize for it later, ignoring how his muscles and bones screamed from strain as he hiking up the nearby trail that would lead to where a village lay. He would gladly carry you across Hyrule to make up for the trouble and danger he’d put you through. Brief flickers of memory revealed your lacking of hesitation to bring him back, how you had used the pelt to force another consciousness to rise and battle the one which had taken hold of him, allowing the swordsman a chance to surface and reclaim control.
It was all thanks to you.
His gaze drifted down to rest upon your form. Salt residue had already begun to appear across your skin but it was the heat coming off your form that earned his alarm. Pausing, the back of his hand met your cheek, finding it burning hot. There was a flush across your face as well. It was as he quickened his pace that you groggily woke, finding the Hylian Champion’s face full of worry and concern along with guilt, impulsing you to reach up a shaking hand to brush bandaged fingertips against his skin. The motion earned you his full attention as he still went faster, those azure eyes falling to meet your glazed own as his arms gave you a squeeze. I’ve got you, they said, I will fix this.
A smile raised your lips as the world spun, flesh of his cheek becoming pinched between your fingers. Maybe it was the fever making you a bit loopy but for some reason you found the stretch of his skin entertaining as he raised an eyebrow at your giggle. His soaked hair made him look less like a Hylian and more like an oversized canine as his features morphed for a moment. “Good…boy…”
And darkness rose to claim you as the raised blonde eyebrow twitched. That had to be the goofiest expression he’d ever seen. Bizarre, considering the circumstance, but it still coaxed his own lips to twitch with a suppressed smirk when you woofed softly.
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Previous: Blood Moon Encounter
Pt. 3: Identities Unknown
#the legend of zelda#legend of zelda#botw link#link x reader#link x you#link x y/n#botw!link#link x f!reader#f!reader
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The Runt - Billy the Kid
Warnings for thic chapter: hints of PTSD?, slight violence, mention of blood, kind of sad Laurie at the end
Chapter Four
(Sentences written in italics are when the characters are speaking in Spanish)
The next morning, Laurie was gently shaken awake by Billy and she instinctively shot up, quickly getting to her feet. She had been classically conditioned to be up and at ‘em the second somebody wakes her up. Just another fucked up thing she was used to after living with Jesse and the gang for three stupid years. Laurie knew that Jesse must’ve figured out she had left, maybe he sent a search party out for her to bring her back? However she knew better than to think that. Jesse didn’t care about her enough to do that, he wouldn’t waste that man-power on someone like her.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Billy reassured, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it easy, kid.” He was shocked to have gained such a wild reaction from her just for waking her up. Once he’d seen that Laurie calmed down he spoke again. “We need to get moving.”
The traveling was long, but the duo made do. The rides were usually quiet, the two just enjoying each other's company and every so often pointing out wildlife that they thought was interesting. Laurie would get especially excited whenever they would run into deer.
After a good few days of riding Billy and Laurie finally made it to the city of Chihuahua. An old man sat on the tall hill that Billy and Laurie were riding on and the two decided to approach and see if they had made it to the right place. Artax nickered, snorting as he tossed his head.
“This Chihuahua?,” Billy asked as he pulled his horse, Brandy, to a stop as Laurie did the same with Artax beside him. The young red-head strained her neck, trying to get a better look at the old man that Billy was trying to speak to. However, there was no answer. Billy and Laurie exchanged looks before the younger girl shrugged and coaxed Artax into a lope, heading for the city.
The two of them did eventually find out that they were in the right place, checking into an inn and going up into their room. Laurie sat on the small chair in their room, drawing in her sketchpad while Billy looked out of the window. Both of their heads turned to the door when a little boy appeared, he looked to be about 9 or 10 years old.
“Do you two want me to clean your boots?,” the little boy asked in Spanish. Laurie got up, opening the cracked door fully with a soft smile.
“I just cleaned mine, but I’m sure my friend here would appreciate it,” Laurie replied, also using Spanish, her small smile faltered slightly when she noticed the boy was on a crutch but she quickly countered her reaction as Billy also handed the boy his boots before taking out a silver coin and giving it to him.
“This is upfront,” Billy said, “You’ll get the rest when you bring our boots back later. We need them in an hour. You understand?”
“I understand, thank you, señor, señorita,” the boy said before hobbling away on his crutch, holding the boots in his hand tightly.
An hour later, Billy opened the door to see if the kid who had taken his boots had left them by the door. And much to the outlaw’s dismay, they weren’t. And Laurie couldn’t help but crack up when Billy cussed under his breath and stormed downstairs to buy those shitty second-hand boots. Laurie followed, still hunching over a little bit as she giggled. She found it amusing that he had fallen for a scam, even though she too had been fooled by the boy. It was much funnier to laugh at the actual victim in this situation.
Billy and Laurie stepped outside, by now, the little red-head had calmed down from her laughing fit as she looked around the unfamiliar city. Hoping to find the familiar face of her mama, but to no avail. The city was very much alive, full of people smiling and laughing with each other, trading or buying items and other goods such as food that Laurie could have never even dreamed of having back at Jesse’s ranch. A grin spread across her face as she and Billy walked through the city.
She could definitely get used to this life.
Laurie went over to a fruit stall, taking an apple and handing the vendor some coins, smiling widely as she took a bite out of the fruit and raced back to Billy, basically dancing in excitement as her hands waved around a little bit. The apple was sweet as she took another bite into it. The fruit back at the ranch wasn’t very good, so Laurie never ate the fruit back there despite having a strange love for apples. So the girl was thrilled to find an apple that was actually good and that she could eat. Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s excitement, he was a bit perplexed by the way she expressed her excitement but he didn’t stop her because it wasn’t hurting anyone.
However, when he caught sight of the little kid who had stolen his shoes now trying to pick-pocket another kid, he immediately ran after him, calling him a ‘little thief’ in Spanish. Leaving poor, confused Laurie alone with her apple before she ran after Billy, yelling at him to stop. The chase didn’t last long, just as Billy and Laurie ran into a laundry line circle, the two were ambushed.
Laurie was socked in the face while Billy was being manhandled by a couple of other guys, he tried to grab his gun but that was quickly kicked away. Laurie was being pinned to the wall of a house as she struggled but to no avail. She wasn’t much of a fighter, given her size and how scrawny she was. And whoever had her pinned was using that to his advantage as he quickly pulled the scrunched up cash and compass from her pocket. He then pulled her away from the wall, throwing her to the ground. Laurie kicked him in the shin with a yell.
A loud gunshot rang out, causing the group of muggers to scatter like rabbits, stealing Billy’s gun as they booked it. Laurie heaved, she could feel the blood drip from her mouth and run down her chin before dripping into the dirt. Billy saw this and stumbled to his feet, rushing over and helping her up, visibly concerned for the young teenager. The man who had helped them noticed that Billy was still struggling and he sighed, taking him and slinging his arm over his shoulder.
“You’re a tough kid. I could use someone like you. That kid with you could also be useful if we put some more meat on her bones,” the man said to Billy as he helped him walk.
Laurie followed next to them and pretended like she didn’t basically just get called the runt again. It wasn’t anything new to her, but it hurt even worse coming from a stranger.
But little did young Laurie know that this meet and greet would be the start of something much bigger than she was.
Literally and figuratively.
A/N:
Shorter chapter because I'm tired, comicon was a lotta fun tho
Again, constructive criticism is appreciated <3
Billy and Laurie are my loves
Tag:
@slutforsnow
#billy mccarty#billy the kid 2022#billy the kid gif#billy the kid hc#billy the kid imagine#billy the kid x reader#william h bonney#billy the kid#tom blyth x reader#billy the kid x oc#the runt#runt of the litter#platonic relationships#the old west#older brother core
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Wild Hearts: Chapter 1
Summary: It’s been 6 years since Katsuki Bakugou walked out on you and your hometown without an explanation. 6 long years of humiliation and heartbreak. So what happens when he walks back into your life asking for a favor? You know he’s not good for you, but what if your heart doesn’t?
Genre: angst, eventual smut, hurt, comfort, pining, slow burn, MDNI
CW: language, smoking, threats
Word Count: 826
A/N: I know it’s short and still pretty slow, but I promise we’ll pick up pretty quickly!!
Desperate to stay asleep and immersed in his childhood memories, Bakugou fought against waking, trying to block out the sounds of the horses nickering and the leaves rustling in the tree above.
As he turned over, stalks of grass pricked his cheek, their earthy smell replacing the ghosts of those in his dream, dew wetting his skin.
With a resigned sigh, he sat up, lifting his hat off the worn saddle he'd been using as a pillow and placing it on his head as he stretched with a groan, heaving himself to his feet.
He glanced around at their small camp, not surprised to see everyone else's saddles rolled and ready to go, except Mina's, who still slept peacefully, only the slightest bit of her bright hair poking out from under the blanket.
"Good to see you're up, Bakugou. I was beginning to think Mina would wake before you," Denki commented at the sight of the larger blonde, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip from his canteen.
"I was in the middle of a dream. Something wrong?" Bakugo grunted a reply as he buckled his gun belt around his hips.
Denki sighed, running a hand haphazardly through his blonde hair before replacing his hat. "Kinda. We don't have an in at Rose Creek anymore."
Bakugo's gaze shot up at the blonde man's words, confusion clouding his features. "The fuck are you talking about? What happened to the deal with Mineta?" he snapped.
"Creepy little idiot finally got himself shot and killed. It's not like he was a reliable source anyways," Kiri's voice cut into the conversation, and Bakugo twisted to scowl at the redhead as he groomed his horse.
"I fucking know that, But I didn't realize we had to like 'em to use 'em. If you wanna be the one to make contacts all the time, be my guest." he invited sarcastically, to which Kiri only chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender.
"We need someone to go in and get us new information. I refuse to walk in blind and risk dying before the fight has even begun, especially with this lot," Sero chimed in from where he lay, leaning against a log. "We've agreed it can't be any of us. Tomura's gonna keep an extra close eye if he gets wind of our whereabouts, and it's not like any of us can just waltz into town anyways. We can't hire anyone; It'd be too risky." As Bakugou's thoughts drifted back to his dream, the others nodded in agreement.
"How far are we from Palestone again?" he asked suddenly, lighting a cigarette as Kiri glanced at him curiously. "About two days ride. One if you don't stop. What're you thinking?" he asked.
Bakugo shrugged, looking down at his boots. "Might know someone. She'll need a little convincing," he admitted, his cigarette hanging from his lips as he spoke.
"How much convincing? We don't got that much time," Mina spoke up as she yawned and stretched, peering up at the three men. Bakugou glanced at her but ignored her statement, his full attention on Kiri.
"We can spare four days. Three to travel there and back, one to convince her," he decided, and Denki studied him for a moment, sharing a knowing look with Kiri.
"Is this that girl you talked on and on and on about that time you got so drunk you were convinced you could--," he began, and Bakugo whirled on him, eyes narrowed in warning.
"If you don't want me to loosen your cinch next time we ride out, I wouldn't finish that sentence," he growled, and Sero snickered at Denki's grumbling reply.
"So that would be a yes," Kiri chuckled, settling next to Sero on the ground.
"Why the hell not? If she cares about you half as much as you pretend you don't care about her, it's worth a shot," he grinned, ignoring the glare Bakugou shot him.
"Shut the hell up. It's not like that. She's an old friend." he snapped, stamping his cigarette with his heel before tacking and mounting his horse. He hesitated before swinging himself into his saddle, wondering for a second if he really did have motives other than getting the job done.
"Whatever you say, I don't talk about my friends like you talk about her," Kiri shrugged, shaking out a match, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lips.
Bakugou shook off his doubts with a growl at his friend's words, gathering his reins as he settled into his saddle and squeezed his heels around his horse, clucking softly to him.
Mina twisted around to watch him as Bakugo trotted off, shielding her eyes from the sun. "We can always find someone else if you can't convince her!" she called out.
Bakugo heard her and waved in response, but the pressure building in his chest prevented him from answering. He had no plans to fail to convince you.
Not this time.
#outlaw au#outlaw!bakugou#mha#bakugou x you#bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#Bakugo x reader#cowboy!bakugo#cowboy!Katsuki#bakugou katsuki#bakugou fic#cowboy!Bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou x reader#wild hearts#t writes#cowboy anon writes#thecowboyanon writes#wild hearts chapter 1#wild hearts ch 1#ch 1
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Riding Lessons
(DAY 13: “you weren’t supposed to get hurt”)
Trigger Warnings: canon typical violence, injury, anxiety
Just outside Highland Stable’s fence, Wild held the reins for Hyrule’s borrowed horse. Stalwart nickered as Wild fed her an apple while Hyrule shifted around in the saddle. Just ahead of them, Time held Peony still for Sky to climb on. The pink and white horse nibbled the grass. Wild admired the way he settled into the role so easily.
“She’s a sweet ol’ gal,” Time murmured to Wild as they watched the Skyknight mount the pink mare with ease. “You’ve never ridden before?” Time inquired of Sky, skeptically.
“I’ve never ridden a horse before. I didn’t expect them to be so…dense, I suppose.”
Wild smiled. Malon’s warm accent was woven into the way Time shaped any words about horses and farm work, while Sky’s crisp accent reminded him of the way people used to talk in his era, before the Calamity; lofty and light. He wondered if Zelda might one day sit on her grand throne before dignitaries and let slip “shrooms” the way people in Hateno did these days. Would Riju or Sidon hear that and laugh?
He shook the thought away and focused as Hyrule suddenly clutched the saddle. “Woah, easy Traveler. She’s not going anywhere.” Wild reassured him.
“I thought the blanket was slipping. Sorry.” He nervously patted Stalwart’s neck. She huffed and shifted her weight, and Hyrule clutched the saddlehorn again. “They’re so tall.”
“You’ve fought monsters bigger than this. Didn’t you jump on a hinox last week?”
“Sure, but it’s different. You always know what to expect from a hinox. They will try to catch or kill you, no matter what or when. But these… what if they decide they want to kill you after you get cozy on their back? What if they get bored or hungry and just…” Hyrue tossed his hands up, and with his eyes he tracked the invisible, hypothetical rider being bucked into the stratosphere.
“Hyrule, I think you’re overthinking it.” Wild laughed. It was strange to see the fearless Traveler so nervous. Hyrule usually jumped into action first and asked questions later. The teen took to shield surfing like a natural, and had jumped off Hyrule Tower with Wild’s glider without even asking how to use it. The fear shining in his eyes now as he looked down at the horse was downright unsettling. Wild soothed the horse, who was indeed growing a little bored. “Look, I’ll keep the lead and walk her around the stable a few times, just so you can get used to each other, okay?”
“No, I can do this. Just give me a moment. Are you sure the straps are tight enough?”
“Tight as she can take. You won’t slip off. I promise.” Wild stroked Stalwart’s bluish-gray and white neck, and hummed the tune his horses all seemed to like, the tune Twilight and Time knew as well.
Time had given Peony’s reins to Sky, and walked close enough to intervene as horse and rider began a slow lap around the stable’s fence. Time offered only a few pointers as Sky nodded.
“Are you ready?” Wild looked up at the Traveler’s freckled face.
Hyrule nodded, lost in thought, but did not reach for the reins. Wild shrugged, kept them, and waited for the Traveler to start.
The horse shivered, but otherwise didn’t move.
Wild looked up. “Uh, Hyrule?”
“Hm?” Hyrule hummed, and his eyes seemed to clear from some fog.
“Are you going to, uh…”
“Oh, I did! I don’t think she wants to go.”
“Hyrule,” Wild wanted to laugh, it was so ridiculous how rigidly the young man sat in the saddle. “Can you show me how you told her to go?”
“Like you said.' Hyrule tapped the horse with his heel so lightly that a fly would have been more noticeable.
Chuckling came from the entrance of the stable, but was quickly hushed.
“I don’t see you out there, Wind. And shut up, Wars!” Legend’s whisper wasn’t quiet enough to escape Hyrule’s notice, and the teen shrunk into himself a little, growing even more tense.
“Right. Something to know about horses is they have really thick skin, just like lynels. If you give a small kick, it’s not going to hurt them like it would for softer creatures, like Twi’s cats. It’s more like…poking at Vet! If it’s not hard enough, he might not even feel it with all the scarring.” He looked to the gap between overlapping canvases where the other heroes clearly had gathered, and winked. Muffled laughs and ripples along the fabric told him they’d heard. “Horses need to feel your push through all the muscle and fat. Obviously, don’t slam into them, but you can push a lot harder.”
Hyrule gave a quick kick, and when Stalwart took her first step forward, he smiled. Still, he grabbed the saddle as the motion jerked him left, then right, bouncing a little at each step.
“Okay, okay, it’s working. So what now?” He nervously patted Stalwart’s neck, his wide eyes staring at Wild.
The Champion couldn’t hold his laughter at the sight. “Rulie, just let her walk! You’re fine.”
“Okay. Okay. Okay,” Hyrule muttered, and slowly the horse’s rocking gait eased the tension in Hyrule’s shoulders. “Not monsters. Okay.”
“Not… Hyrule, did you think horses were monsters?”
Four’s snort was apparently too fast to muffle.
Hyrule flushed a little, and answered quickly. “I’ve only ever seen them in dungeons! And usually only half of a horse, like lynels and horseheads. And the way their skin moves is creepy. And their eyes are…” Hyrule looked away from the horse when it turned back to look at him with one large, glimmering black eye. “Why is it so twitchy?”
Wild tried very, very hard to keep a neutral face. “Same reason you are, probably. Look, maybe they got corrupted or something in your time, but in most eras, they’re friendly if you treat them right.”
Sky finished his lap and was already approaching from behind. “You did it, Rule!” he called happily as he accepted the reins from Time. Sky’s steed turned smoothly away from the fence at the knight’s urging, and went around Hyrule to start a second lap on his own.
Hyrule sighed, then stared at Stalwart’s neck as it twitched to shoo a pair of flies away.
Time joined Wild’s side, seeing the young knight was clearly settled with Peony. “Now, how is our brave Traveler doing?”
Wild could see the concern bloom on Time’s face at Hyrule’s white knuckled grip and furrowed brow.
“Here, Rulie. Take the reins.” Wild pried one clawed hand away from the saddle horn and put the smooth leather straps in it and stepped back, giving the boy some space to figure things out.
Hyrule took the reins with such a grim frown that Time reached up and gave him a reassuring pat on the back before he hit the horse’s rump. With a wicker and swish of her ears, Stalwart began to walk along the fence.
Time and Wild followed slowly, the elder giving Wild a questioning stare.
“He’s doing his best, but apparently he used to think horses were monsters,” Wild laughed as quietly as he could, but Hyrule still turned to stare at them. “No wonder he was so nervous to meet Epona at your ranch.” Wild turned to Time with a smirk. “Wait, that means that before coming here, Hyrule has only ever seen your Epona, and Twilight’s Epona?”
“Oh, that’s…I suppose that might be true, yes.”
“So outside of a dungeon, he’s seen one horse, ever, basically.”
“They’re not the same horse, Wild.” But Time chuckled deeply, undeniably proud at the similarities between Epona and her descendent. “Good thing you’ve got a whole herd for him to meet.”
“I can’t claim all of them. Half are Zelda’s, like these two. She keeps them for the village kids.”
They had just reached the front of the stable when a woman’s high scream for help echoed over the plains.
“Totsuna!” Wild shouted, spotting the young woman on the road running for her life from a pair of blue bokos mounted on horseback. He sprinted toward Hyrule so he could take Stalwart to reach her, still quite far down the road. But Wild never got the chance.
Hyrule kicked hard, and the horse was off, galloping away toward the commotion. Traveler leaned so far forward he was almost flat on the horse’s back, holding the front edges of the saddle desperately.
Sky rounded the stable with Peony, a younger and faster mare than Hyrule’s, and he thundered after them.
Wild watched, relieved that Sky had taken so well to riding. Between the two heroes, Totsuna would be okay. Time caught up quickly.
“What do we do?”
“It’s only two boko riders. Sky alone can handle it, but Traveler is… being Traveler.”
Hyrule urged Stalwart on. She was steady and slow, in Wild’s view, but the teen looked panicked, his head bouncing on his arm and, Wild feared, barely able to see.
The other heroes had disentangled themselves from the canvas and came running out, most of them stopping at the fence as they saw Sky nearly there and Traveler keeping the blue bokos as bay. Only Legend and Four continued running, their pegasus boots rushing them to the scene in a way that made Wild’s heart twinge. Someday, he’d find boots like theirs. Speedy elixirs were not pleasant beverages.
Stalwart had passed Totsuna and reached the bokos, but didn’t stop in time. She skidded to a stop just in front of the blue riders, who raised their spears. Trapped between monsters and a screaming woman, Stalwart found some of the strength of her youth and bucked. Hyrule had drawn his legs up to crouch on the saddle just in time as she bucked him off. The teen leapt high back toward Totsuna and, to Wild’s surprise, Hyrule landed on his feet and drew his blade against the monsters in a smooth motion.
Totsuna crouched behind Hyrule as Stalwart pranced nervously between the two mounted bokos. Hyrule held his ground, sword and shield glittering in the bright sun as he stood ready to defend the young woman. The bokos tried to close in, but Stalwart reared in terror, her front legs striking the air like weapons, and kept the other two horses back.
“Well, that’s an odd sort of teamwork,” Warrior quipped to Twilight, both leaning on the fence casually as if watching a show. Wild wished he could feel so casual about it. But Sky was almost there.
A spear jabbed down at Hyrule’s right, and he shoved it aside with his shield. The boko lost hold of the spear, and the butt end grazed Stalwart’s leg. The mare’s white eyes rolled and she kicked her legs straight back, directly into Hyrule’s exposed chest with an audible thump.
Hyrule dropped like a popped octorok balloon as Totsuna screamed and ducked.
Gathering her wits at last, the mare galloped away from the bokos and across the field.
Sky finally arrived, having relinquished the reins in favor of the mare’s hare, and he guided Peony toward the spear-bereft boko. He removed its head in one clean, efficient swipe. The monster’s body disappeared before hitting the ground. It’s bewildered horse galloped off after Stalwart.
The Chosen hero turned his steed around to engage the second boko. As Sky charged, the blue monster yanked its red-speckled stallion back so viciously it reared up, a living shield to fend off Sky’s wrath.
Sky let his mare run loosely around the rearing steed. Once it dropped, he turned sharply again to attack. But the boko spurred his red stallion away from the place. Young and quick, too soon the boko had a wide lead, and disappeared in the tall grass of the plains. Instead, Sky led her back to the two figures on the road and dismounted.
Wild felt useless, waiting and watching it all unfold. But Time had stayed calm as it all played out, and he mimicked the man’s demeanor, trying to stop the bounce in his knee and grabbed his hands to keep them from fidgeting. But Legend and Four finally reached Totsuna and Hyrule. The young woman handed a bottle to Legend, then rose and ran for the stable with Four at her side.
Legend knelt by Sky at Hyrule’s side. Wild wished he could see what Totsuna gave the Veteran, and what they gave to Hyrule. To Wild’d relief, Hyrule sat up a few moments later and shook his head, as if that would take away the pain and dizziness he must be feeling.
When the group finally returned—to the dramatic applause of Wind, Twilight and Four—Wild could see the Traveler would be okay, especially after a bit of food and rest. A knott that has built in his chest was released, and he made his way to Hyrule’s side as they entered the shade of the stable. They led him to a bed and Wild sat by his side.
“Well, you were right.” And Wild mimicked the signs Hyrule had made earlier, eyes tracking the soaring figure rising into the sky.
Hyrule laughed, though he winced a bit.
“So, was it worth it?” Wild searched the Traveler’s face, but found no signs of the fear that plagued him earlier. They waved to Totsuna as Four tended to her scrapes, and she waved back.
Hyrule chuckled. “It was exactly as bad as I imagined.” The traveler let himself fall backward onto the stable bed with a sigh. “But, knowing what the worst of it feels like? Yeah, it was worth it. We should try it again. Tomorrow.”
#linked universe fanfic#linked universe#lu wild#lu hyrule#lu time#lu sky#it's febuwhump but all I want to write is crack#febuwhump2024#febuwhumpday13#skipwrites#tw injury#it's super tame#this is like a 2/10 on the whump scale if we're rounding up#tw canon typical violence
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