#[Head to the ''grunt lore'' tag for a feel as to why this is a bad thing]

[thatoneskullgrunt]

Hey boss. Um. What is Happening™ and can I help at all ???

My extended family has discovered where i am and i dont really know if theres anything you can do from where youre at. Thank you for the offer though.

I think ive got this under control. Just lay low until they leave. Cant be that bad.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Rebel

Prince!Kylo Ren x Cage Fighter!Reader

Summary: Prince Kylo was a rebel at heart. His grandfather, Emperor Anakin, was on his final limb trying to groom the boy into becoming a good Skywalker, but it seems he was too preoccupied with things outside his duty to care.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: fem!reader, alternate universe, slight modern/contemporary world au?, royal family-ish au, enemies with benefits?, smut (sadism, dom/sub dynamic, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, light bondage), kylo is going through a phase ig, yucky smoker!kylo (don't smoke pls), slow burn, typos, etc.

A/N: Felt like cross posting this on AO3 also minors dni you guys arent ready for this because I'm not ready for this HAHAAHHA my brain farts are real. also if there's anything wrong with my star wars lore just roll with it ok it's the beauty of my au world HAHHAH <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

"Put that out before father sees you."

Kylo looks over his shoulder, pulling away the cigarette from his lips as he blows smoke from his lungs. He looks at his mother and sighs, "my father or your father?"

Leia eyes her son, "Ben-"

"Kylo," he corrects, taking another puff of his smoke.

The crown princess narrows her eyes and with one flick of her finger, the barely burning cigarette shoots out of his fingers, across the hall.

"Bro- what the fu-"

"See," she places her hands on her hips, "you would have been able to stop me if you trained with Luke more often," Kylo's mother offers as she leans into him and sniffs his rank smoker odor, brushing him off as she did.

Leia's son, who towers over her, cringes as he is pat down harshly.

Leia notes, "you reek."

"Stop it," he quips as his shoulder is swatted with way more force than necessary. Kylo curls his arms over himself in protection. She does not relent, and so he calls, "mom!"

Leia sighs and places her hands on her hips, "no, you're right," she looks up at him, "I should just let the emperor catch you," she raises a finger, "and let's be honest. Even if you trained more with Luke," she turns about, " you still wouldn't be able to best me."

The woman marches off, mentally noting to rant to her son's father about him.

Kylo grunts as he watches his mother walk away. By the time she reaches then end of the hall, Kylo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He pulls out his sleek, silver box of cigarettes and grabs a stick. He turns around as he begins to light the thing lazily pressed between his lips.

He doesn't get to though. His fire is burnt out by the ominous snippy atmosphere and his lighter slips through his fingers.

Immediately, the cigarette falls after, down to his boots and he grows frigid at the sight of the slouching man before him, hand propped on a cane, face concealed in a dark mask.

"Emperor. I-"

"Continue to disappoint?" he speaks through the constraint of his mask, not even raising a finger to get both the fallen objects on the floor as well as the one in Kylo's hands.

The emperor chucks out those hazards through the window, using so much Force that it probably propelled out of orbit. Kylo internally begins to sputter out curses.

"Why are you roaming here in the gardens, killing your grandmother's flowers, boy?" the old man demands, breathing heavily.

Kylo gulps and clenches his hands into a fist.

"Are you not meant to be training with your uncle?" Anakin quips, taking a deep breath as he slowly walks past his grandson.

Kylo tenses and steps aside to allow the emperor passage. He knows better than to do so, and yet he still offers, "do you want some hel-"

"Do you have a death wish?" Anakin wheezes as he heads to the arch in the hall, not even sparing his hulk of a progeny a look. He would have beaten his ass in his prime, he thinks, as he makes his way into the palace garden.

Immediately, Anakin feels a Force around him. He basks in it and Kylo can feel it too, though he thinks the Force is coming from his mother's father.

Anakain swears he can smell the scent of his beloved Padme in this moment. He mentally debates taking his mask off, but decides against it, knowing his child's child will throw a hissy fit, then his actual children will throw another hissy fit.

Kylo does nothing but watch the old man walk off. He thinks of the few memories he has with his grandmother then goes terse all over again when he hears a shout, "GO TRAIN, BOY!"

Kylo releases a breath, "yes sir."

Anakin, after a long while, finally reaches a bench and sits down. He looks at the flowers in the shrubs and bushes around him. He breathes in deeply, as deeply as his mask will allow him then closes his eyes. He pretends he was not himself, rather that he was his younger self. He thinks about his wife and how he would have plucked out a flower for her in this moment.

"Oh, Padme," instead he sighs, "you're grandson is a rebel, my love. I don't know what to do with him," he opens his eyes, "but you would have."

Kylo, at this point, had successfully fled the wrath of his forebears, and was now at the garage, readying his air speeder. He ruffles his black, baggy jeans with infinite pockets and feels his key eventually. He jumps in his vehicle and finds another box of cigarettes in his compartment.

"Thank you, Kylo," he mutters to himself as he gets another stick of nicotine.

He lights his cigarette as he waits for the garage door to open.

But then came a high-pitched beeping noise, and he immediately pulls away the lit stick in his mouth.

R2-D2 rambles on and on in his dings and buzzes in a scolding manner.

Kylo's ears ring. Fucking droid. He rubs his ear then turns to his side. He watches as the robot nears rolls back and forth as it chastises him.

"Can it, tin can."

R2-D2's light becomes red.

Kylo clutches his steering wheel, "if you rat me out to grandpa, I'll turn you into a museum display."

R2-D2 flares even more at the threat.

"Well, I don't give a shit if uncle Luke is waiting for me," he snips back, staring his engine, then driving off. He raises a hand, "later, loser."

R2-D2 loses its marbles.

Kylo drives deep into the capital city, the part that was more commercial and had less military presence. But really, the old man's reach was felt throughout the galaxy. It'd be a matter of time before his fun is over. That's why he intends on having as much fun as he possibly can.

He aimlessly roams for a moment, driving through streets he frequents, and some he doesn't recall he's ever been. He leans on his side and feels the wind blow back his jaw length hair. Then he finds himself parking in a coincidentally free spot on a busy street.

It's destiny, he thinks.

So, he pulls up in the edge of the street and hops out of his air speeder, aimlessly walking around. He pulls out his comms device and sends a message.

From Kylo: where u?

He shoves his comms back in his pocket, keeping his hands stuffed there, knowing he wouldn't get a response from his friend any time soon. He walks to the edge of the street, stops right at a pedestrian lane, then crosses once the light turns green.

As he struts past a conveniece store, he turns to his barely visible reflection and runs his hands through his hair. The street grows increasingly busy as he continues. It's packed with people on the daily their commute, off to work, to school, or to wherever they ought to be. With every being that passes him, human, alien, droid, or otherwise, he slowly feels the paranoia seep in him.

He rubs his nose, 100% sure that that old lady was whispering about him.

He was being watched, he was being looked at, he was being talked about. A work hazard, something you deal with as royalty. He likes to pretend he's better than that, public opinion doesn't matter to him, but he isn't a very good pretender.

He clears his throat, pulls out the shades he always kept handy on him, and puts them on. Suddenly, he's not as paranoid.

In truth, if you knew the faces of the Skywalker clan, not even these large glasses would stop you from recognizing him. But still, he felt better with them on. The only reason he probably did was because the little boy in him still believed the words of his father.

Ben had been 4 or 5 at the time, and had been struggling with the attention from the general public and the press. Han Solo had gave him shades, the very same one he had now, and told him when he had them on, he'd be invisible. It helped that his dad, mom, and uncle were in on it and pretended he was when he'd wear them. The servants were quick enough to follow suit. His grandfather though, ever the cynic, never played the game with him, and always told him to put the ridiculous thing off.

He figured then of course the emperor could see him. He had superior connections with the Force.

Kylo crosses the street.

A group of school girls catch sight of him and stare as he walks by. Once he's gone, they squeal and gush over how handsome he was.

Kylo feels his comms vibrate.

To Kylo: At work. Can't come.

Kylo snorts, then turns to his side when he smells an alluring savory scent. He sees the burrito stand and walks over as he replies.

From Kylo: im getting burritos

Kylo walks to the order window and decides he'll get what he always gets. The employee begrudgingly walks over to the window and leans on the table by the window, "Good morning," she says flatly, "what can I get you?"

Kylo examines at the bandage she has on her brow and the swollenness of her cheek. He knows it'll turn blue soon, but he doesn't say that, "two classic burritos, one of them with extra radish."

She nods and then punches up Kylo's order on the register, "12 credits."

Kylo pulls his head back, "12? It's 4.50 each."

"Not anymore for a long time," she mutters in response, shifting in her spot.

Kylo lets out a breath, thinking it's a ridiculous price, but pays 12 credits nonetheless.

He receives another message.

To Kylo: No.

Kylo snorts yet again at his text mate. He moves to the side and waits for his order. In the meantime, he looks around the block, thinking of what else he can do to amuse himself.

From the corner of his eye, he spots the sign The Death Star, and chuckles under his breath. He uses his Force to try and see what exactly this death star was, and then quickly realizes it was a cage fighting arena.

Kylo smirks.

From Kylo: come to 12th street. we're watching a cage fight in the death star :D

Kylo turns around when he hears his order get called out. He says quick thank you to the man who gives him his burrito. He looks at him and his pudgy form, then examines his knuckes before he pulls away. He spots, seeing no bruise on them. He definitely wasn't the one who punched the lady that worked here.

Kylo then crosses and heads to The Death Star. He looks at his comms one last time before heading for the entrance.

To Kylo: ????

"Moron," he chuckles to himself.

He reaches The Death Star, finding it had a small entrance with guard big enough to block it whole.

"50 credits," the bouncer says to him.

Kylo looks at the man. He was twice as big as the one who worked at the burrito shop. Still, Kylo thinks he could take him.

"Why so expensive?" he asks.

The bouncer rolls his shoulders back, "you got a problem, peasant? Then leave."

He does not like that. The bouncer was on the steps leading up to the door, which was why he was about as tall as Kylo. He wonders if he should force choke him and walk in, but then he feels a buzz from the comms in his pocket and is snapped out of it. He pays the over-expensive door fee then walks in, eating his burrito.

"Just keep walking straight then go down the stairs," the bouncer says, "you can't miss it."

He doesn't miss it. He immediatly spots the stairs, finding it went both up and down. Kylo looks up in curiosity. He figures if he instead went upstairs, there would most definitely be someone there waiting him to throw him down. He simply just descends with his burrito.

Once he reaches the only place the stairs lead to, he surveys the setting, wondering why there were chandeliers and drapes in this foyer when he knows once he gets to the area where the crowds were screaming, there would be a semi-large cage and audience members hollering for blood. Weird.

But then again, his grandpa lived in a palace and he was out for his blood.

He takes it back. It's fitting.

He continues to walk, chewing on his food, then get into the arena, at the very edge of it. It seems the round just finished, considering the reaction of the crowd.

Kylo promptly finds an empty spot, then sits down as he watches the cage get swept. It looks like a droid was shattered after the match.

He chuckles when he imagines it being R2-D2.

It takes a few minutes for the next round to commence, and by the time it does, Kylo's burrito was finished.

At this moment, he pulls out his comms and sees he's received multiple messages. He grins when he sees the one that confirmed that he was, in fact, going to be seeing his friend here at the death star soon.

There is a loud announcement suddenly, and the crowd goes wild. Soon enough two competitors are announced, and Kylo perks up and tilts his head when he sees the face of one of them, you, the burrito lady.

Kylo, is so stunned that has to push his shades down to see if he was seeing clearly. Yep. Still 20/20.

There you were, standing no longer in your burrito-stand uniform, but in fitted shorts and a fitted tank top. You had wraps in your hands and feet, and the marks on your face made total sense now.

Kylo leans back on his seat and pushes his shades up.

You got them from your cage fights.

He finds himself smiling.

Interesting.

"- with 27 wins and 2 losses-"

Hmm, an impressive record.

Kylo cannot help but to cheer with the crowd as it screams for you after you are introduced. An interesting name you had. He'll have to remember that.

Both you and your opponent's hands are raised just before the start of the match.

The prince nods his head and thinks he will enjoy seeing you win or lose today.

Halfway through the match, as Kylo is screaming for you as you bash your knee into your opponent, who was, mind you, twice your size, he is grabbed my the arm and ripped out of his focus.

Kylo turns annoyed then breaks into a smile, speaking loudly over the audience' noise. "Hux! You're just in time." Kylo hands the man the burrito with extra radish, then turns back to the cage, "burrito girl is really good!"

Hux takes the burrito and looks at Kylo, then the cage. The dark haired man clenches his hand into a fist and cheers as the round is called to an end.

The red haired man pulls his head back after beholding the collective protests.

"AW WHAT! SHE TOTALLY WON THAT ROUND!" Kylo snarls against the announcement that your slimy alienoid opponent was the victor for round 3.

Kylo sits back down and cross his arms. Hux sits down next to him and gives him a look, "you're insane, you know that right? D'you know what would happen to us if someone-"

"And you're boring," Kylo retorts, running his hand through his dark locks.

Hux holds back his eyeroll, and shakes his head instead. His ginger, gelled back hair reflects the glaring spotlights in the room. Hux unwraps his burrito and takes a bite, crossing his legs as he did so.

Kylo turns to him, mentally noting he appreciated he came to him right after work, the give away being he was still in uniform. Hux's sharp shoulder pads starkly contrasted the softness of his frumpy sweater, though they were both black.

"Extra radish," he points.

Hux nods and rolls his eyes, "yes," he chews, "thank you, Ben."

Kylo glares at him.

Hux chews some more, then corrects himself, "Kylo."

Kylo turns away, looking back at the cage.

The next round promptly begins and Kylo is visibly excited. He talks over the loud cheers of the crowd, "we're going to meet her after the round."

Hux knits his brows as Kylo stands to his feet and claps for the competitors.

"Meet? Who?"

"Her!" Kylo points to the cage.

Hux looks.

"I paid 500 credits to have her company to ourselves later," Kylo says with a fond smile.

Hux nearly chokes on his burrito, "you what?!"

He is dutifully ignored for the rest of the match.

When the match does end, Hux thinks of Kylo's decisions even more poorly. The prince is incredibly sour, as the match did not end in favor of this burrito girl as he had gotten fond of for no other reason than that he is compulsive.

Hux does not know if he should be mulling over the fact that the girl, who lost the match on a technicality, worked part-time at the burrito shop that made the delicious snack he just ate, or the fact that Kylo, in all his temper and moodiness, was about to meet her when he was extremely disappointed and very emotional over her loss.

Hux, though he knew about Kylo's explosive tendencies, doesn't dare offer to just leave though, considering he basically made himself homeless by paying so much to meet the cage fighter.

That would be funny though, no? A homeless prince.

When Kylo and Hux are let in the back room, the two turn to each other, seeing the poor conditions of the place.

"500 credits dude," you say, standing from the spot you were sat on.

Kylo takes in the cuts and bruises in your form, agreeing with himself that, considering the violence you exacted and received in the ring, you looked extremely well, and came out mostly unscathed.

"You should have won that round," Kylo says shaking his head. He watches as you smile softly at his words. He feels his chest flutter and decides he enjoys the subtleness of your expression. He would love to make you react the same way again, "that thing outnumbered you with his six arms."

You shrug, toned shoulders glistening with sweat and ointment. Now that he was up close, Kylo could see how fit you were. He licks his lips when he catches your barely visible navel.

"A biological advantage," you retort, "it's not like I can ask him to cut off his arms for me to make it fair."

"Still," Kylo raises a finger, "you should have won."

You shake your head at his words, offering another smile, but no further reply.

Hux surveys the dingy room, thinking if you worked at a burrito stand and a cage fighting job, you must be desperate for credits. He turns to you and straightens up, "you know, with your skills, you could do well as a trooper," the commander says, "you would be paid well, given lodging, health care-"

"So you are an imperialist," you place a hand on your hip and point to him.

Commander Hux tenses. Kylo chews his bottom lip as he holds back a laugh.

I mean, Hux was very visibly an imperialist.

"I thought you just liked imperial fashion on whole other level," you add.

Hux finds himself getting defensive, "is that a problem?"

You tilt your head, "liking imperial fashion or being an imperialist?"

Kylo pretends he's offended and knits his brows, speaking at the same time as his friend, "both."

You look between the two and shake your head, "no. It's just weird to see an actual, I don't know, officer from the regiment spectate a match."

Hux narrows his eyes, "why, is this place illegal?"

You snort, and Kylo beams at the idea.

"I wouldn't have joined this troupe if it was."

Kylo is mildly disappointed, but more so amused by the topic that was spiraling and how Hux was reacting to it. Kylo turns back to you when you point at him, "I remember where I know you from."

Hux feels slightly agitated over the idea the prince was going to be recognized.

Kylo smiles and adjusts his shades, "yes, you took my ord-"

"History class, 204, professor Djarin."

"..."

Hux pulls his head back and looks between Kylo and you.

Kylo is dumbfounded. So much so, he takes off his shades, "you went to Naboo Public State?"

You promptly laugh upon seeing his brown eyes, knowing well how much he rolled them at your shared history teacher, "yeah. Djarin called you Skyslugger cause you were always late."

Hux internally cringes, agitation level skyrocketing, because that does sound like something that would have happened to him in school. That meant, you knew exactly who they both were now, which meant, if you wanted, you could happily talk about how a commanding officer and the prince of the empire went to your cage fight match at a place called The Death Star, and paid 500 credits to speak with you after. Lord, he could already hear General Leia's disappointment in his head.

Kylo snorts, though he was more annoyed at the memory than amused, "damn Din Djarin."

"You never graduated, did you?" you ask.

Hux turns to Kylo, wordlessly telling him not to answer that.

Kylo does anyway, "I didn't, no. Parent's pestering me to re-enroll."

That's enough, Ben, Hux thinks loudly.

You tilt you head, "maybe you should."

Hux turns to you and presses his lips, "hear that, maybe you should!"

Kylo turns to him as Hux slaps his hand on Kylo's shoulder. He glares at Hux, "no."

A beat passes.

You look between the two, "so, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Hux instinctively turns to Kylo, prompting you to do the same.

"Well," Kylo starts, leaning onto one leg, crossing his arms.

Hux recognizes this behavior and then makes a face.

"I honestly wanted to just talk about how I think you deserved to win, and perhaps," he moves slightly closer to you, "to invite you to hang out with us."

Hux shakes his head and raises his hands, "count me out. I have places to be."

"Just you and me then," Kylo smiles softly.

Hux rolls his eyes, he was right. Another day, another plaything. He so very much wants to leave now.

But then, Hux catches the way your face twists. He finds his lips curling into amusement as you furrow your brows. You are clearly uninterested, and suddenly, he is glad that Kylo paid 500 credits just to be here. His rejection will be sweet and deserved.

"Your payment for a meet does not extend to outside endeavors."

Kylo nods, leaning towards you more, "oh, I know. Just wondered if you would be interested in getting a drink."

"Well, I'm not."

"Interested in getting a drink?"

"In you, Prince Ben."

Kylo's face twitches. Hux clears his throat to hold back his laugh.

Kylo doesn't have anything else to say and it is hillarious.

Another beat passes.

You shift in your spot as Hux turns around and laughs in his hand. Kylo rubs his nose and straightens up.

"Is that it?" you ask.

Kylo turns to you, ire beginning to burn, "what?"

"Is that all you wanted?" you clarify, waving a hand. "I mean, you paid 500 credits, I can show you around the place if you like."

Hux turns back around and smiles, "oh, please, do. That would be lovely."

Kylo clenches his jaw, "no. I saw everything I needed to see already."

Hux makes a soft oof sound and indulges himself with a chuckle.

"I'm a force user," Kylo says, "I used my Force Sight to see."

"Ah," you nod.

Hux turns to you and nods, "I stand corrected, I think we will both be leaving now."

You purse your lips and shrug, "suit yourself."

Kylo releases a huff. You knit your brows when he nods to you in regard, "burrito girl."

You blink at him, "500 credits dude."

Hux watches as you curtsy at Kylo. He shakes a hand and his head, mouthing, "he doesn't like that."

You straighten up and watch as the two then walk out of the room.

"Oh, if you ever want to apply as a troop, tell them you were recommended by commander Armitage Hux."

You raise your brows at that, "your name is Armitage?"

Hux makes a face at your expression, "what? Why?"

"Nothing it's just, you don't look like-"

"Hux, let's go."

You turn to Kylo, who just walked out of the room.

"Just call me Hux, everyone calls me that."

You purse your lips then nod.

"Goodbye then," Hux waves and follows after his friend.

As Kylo and Hux exit the room, then the arena, the latter notes, "well that was fun."

Kylo ignores him.

Hux chuckles, "oh, come on. She was a good fighter. You said it yourself."

Kylo grunts.

"I especially enjoyed it when she defeated you."

Kylo glares at Hux. Hux grins from ear to ear.

"Do you want me to demote you?" Kylo groans.

"You can't demote me, prince Ben," Hux says a-matter-of-factly as they climb up the stairs.

Kylo eyes Hux as he ascends before him then uses his Force to make him trip on the steps.

As Hux nearly faceplants, barely catching himself with his hands as he crashes down, Kylo steps over him and continues climbing up.

"BEN!"

Kylo hisses harshly, "don't call me that."

Kylo leaves Hux, deciding he deserved it for being annoying. He thinks he'll go get drinks by himself since no one cared to keep him company.

He nearly breaks his comms after all the ruckus it made while he was brooding in a booth at a lounge he frequented. He doesn't destroy it though. It wasn't his to break. It was a gift from his uncle. His mother refused to get him a new one after breaking countless ones before this one. Luke made him swear to keep it intact.

Kylo abandons his booth to get himself another drink after finishing his nth cocktail.

This time around, with his tiny martini glass in hand, complete with a paper umbrella, he decides he's going to dance, even if he was tipsy and, frankly, hated dancing, especially those folkdances his mother and grandmother taught him and made him do every moment they could. Fuck that shit.

Kylo puts the umbrella stick in his hair just by his ear and chugs his drink as he walks to the crowded dancefloor.

He raises both of his hands and sways his hips on beat as he sifts through the creatures dancing to insanely loud music.

He randomly taps someone's shoulder and hands them the glass, which they stupidly accept, allowing Kylo to break it down and boogie freely with no glass to think about. Only his dark glasses.

By break it down and boogie, of course, I meant Kylo was flailing his head and arms around, pivoting his shoulder and belly to the music. Was it good? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

He feels a bunch of people come onto him, grinding on him or dancing with him. He lets them. When they tell him they should take their dancing somewhere else, he refuses.

Eventually, he's turned down a bunch of people and is left alone.

With his forehead damp with sweat, he exits the dance floor when the music changes to something slow.

He decides to get himself another drink.

"Never knew you had that in you, Ben."

He cringes before he even sits down. He turns to the woman in a pink dress next to the stool at the bar he was about to sit on. He feels his brows pull up at the sight of her.

"Don't call me that, burrito girl," Kylo quips as he calls for the bartender.

You furrow brows further, leaning on the bar top, "call you what? Your name?"

Kylo is served another cocktail, the only one he ever orders, without needing to say it. He thanks the bartender as he downs his drink.

You raise your brows at him, watching some of the liquid spill from his corners of his mouth.

Kylo turns to you, wiping his lips, "don't call me Ben."

You blink, "so... you want to me to call you 500 credits dude?"

"Kylo," he retorts, as he racks his brain. He can't seem to remember what he's looking for though, so he asks, "what was your name again?"

You give him a once over before responding.

When he hears your name, Kylo shakes his head, thinking, truly, the only time he heard it was during the match earlier today, "I really don't remember you."

You chuckle, "yeah, more so now than ever."

Kylo looks at the bright pink dress on your body and thinks it looks good on you, "you change your mind then?"

You take a sip of your drink and turn to him, "what?"

"You come here knowing it's where I'd be?" Kylo leans forward.

You raise a brow at him, "no. I came here to meet someone but I got stood up."

Kylo chuckles, "serves you right."

"Excuse me?" you tilt your head.

Kylo grins and stands, "you're excused."

Kylo walks off and heads for the dancefloor again even though the music was still slow. Why? Because fuck it. He was down to slow dance with strangers.

You take your turn to survey Kylo as he drunkenly moves to the dancefloor. He was incredibly large and even through his baggy clothes, you could tell he was quite athletically built. You turn away just before he catches you looking.

The entire time he dances, Kylo's eyes isn't closed like how they were a while ago. He was looking at you, faced to the bar, hunched over in a pretty pink dress, waiting for no one.

Pathetic. You should be dancing here with him.

He dodges a two headed alien that asks if he wants to have a good time and walks back to you.

He calls out your name and grabs your arm, making you turn to him from your seat with a glare that would have intimidated him, but he was drunk, and he could so take you... in more ways than one.

"Forget about that loser. He's not into you. I am. Dance with me."

You gotta hand it to him. He is confident. But then again, it'd be embarrassing to be in line for the throne and not be.

You take a moment to wonder how Kylo could possibly know you were waiting for a guy then decide he was just good at guessing, not that you looked pathetic right now. You pull your arm out of his grasp, "haven't we established I don't like you?"

"Yeah," Kylo scoffs, placing his hands on his hips, "well, I don't like you either."

You narrow your eyes at him, "why do you want me to dance with you then?"

"Because this is what lounges are for!" Kylo flails his hands out, "not for sulking."

You roll your eyes at him and turn away.

Kylo raises a finger and uses his Force to spin you around. When you realize this is what he did, you stand and look up at him, eyes devoid of any amusement, "you know, I don't care who you are. You're seriously pushing your luck right now."

Kylo enjoys a good conflict. He shakes his head the way drunk people do and raises a finger, "if you're going to waste your time waiting on someone you already know stood you up, wouldn't it be better for him to walk in on you having so much fun rather than looking miserable?"

You clench your jaw at his words and tense when he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the dance floor.

This time, you do not refute him, though you drag your feet on the way.

"Only to make him jealous," you say, walking close to Kylo.

Kylo makes a gagging sound, "how corny of you."

You shove him back, and Kylo is taken off guard by how strong you actually are. He collides into a group of people, who promptly shove him back towards you. You grunt as you catch him, keeping him upright.

"You're wasted," you hiss.

Kylo grins, "no, I'm Kylo."

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with less force, then turn around and leave him there.

Kylo grabs your arm before you can walk away any further .To his surprise, you do not repel him and easily fall back into his arms.

"We're meant to dance not to-"

Kylo shuts himself up when you speak a name that is not at all his.

He lifts up his eyes and sees a man looking at you with contempt. Before he can think, you shove him away and walk over to loser. The man eyes Kylo as you walk with him.

Kylo feels a headache coming on. He just stands there in the middle of the crowd, sticking out like sore thumb with how large and unmoving he was, waiting for the headache to come. To his luck, it doesn't.

He decides to go to the bathroom then settle his bill.

He busts open the men's bathroom door, cringing at the sound of moans that come to a halt when he enters. He quickly washes his hands and walks out, pulling out his comms device, sending a message to multiple people to have him get picked up.

He decides to drink some more as he waits.

He downs about three more cocktails before paying his dues and coming to terms with the fact no one was going to pick him up.

He sighs and drunkenly gets out of the lounge, gracelessly bumping into some people along the way.

He is surprised to see a pretty pink dress when he gets out to the curb.

Kylo calls out your name and hears you gasp.

When you turn to him, he swears he sobers up a fraction at the sight of your red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

He coughs and shifts on his spot, "you want me to kill him?" He points to no where.

You knit your brows and cross your arms, "what?"

"I can kill him for you," Kylo mutters.

You make a face and shake your head rapidly, "are you insane?"

"Yes," he mutters, "I don't like it when girls cry over guys-" he brushes his nose, "-s'why I don't date."

For a prolonged moment, you stare at Kylo, at this drunken Ben Solo, second in line to the Skywalker Empire, the same one who laughed at your joke that one time during lunch. You feel incredulous to the events that has transpired.

You weren't shocked that he didn't know you from university. For starters, he was a chronic repeater, turned drop out, which was insane to think considering he let the class copy off his exams, setting a new curve because of how many of them aced that test.

Ben Solo was the cool kid with bad habits, and he hung out with troopers in his spare time, which meant he didn't really know anyone beyond his circle.

And this Kylo persona was just the same as the Ben you once knew. Bigheaded, loud, and rebellious, with streaks of genuinity and thoughtfulness who wouldn't expect from him.

He was a loose canon in other words. This was why you didn't like him, why every time people would gush about him, you'd let yourself think opposite because nothing ever came out of liking a guy like him.

You ask through your clogged sinuses, rather out of context, "why can't I call you Ben?"

Kylo runs his hands through his hair, the umbrella he left there falls on the floor, "cause I don't like him."

"You don't like Ben?"

He shakes his head, "don't wanna be him."

A group of people exit the lounge the next moment, prompting Kylo to walk over to you to make way. You narrow your eyes at his answer and wipe your face. He probably meant he doesn't want to assume his roles as a prince.

You find yourself chuckling.

Everyone's got their own thing, you think.

"You're drunk," you mutter, making him turn to you.

"I'm Kylo," he repeats once more, making you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, I got that, prince."

Kylo grumbles, looking away from you, "shut up."

The word triggers you, because the man you thought you loved and would love you back just spoke the same words to you a while ago. You look at him, emotions flaring up all over again. They manifest in rage and contempt, "no."

Kylo turns back to you, face fully annoyed.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" you stab, "why do I have to shut up about it?"

Kylo shakes his head and let out a deep breath. The smell of alcohol makes you pull back, "now I really don't like you."

You scoff, "well I really don't like you either."

"I didn't even do anything to you," he raises a finger, "and you rejected me?" he retorts in full offence.

You pull your head back at his words.

He begins to trail off, "what? Was I a jerk to you in uni? I wouldn't have been because I barely talked to anyone there, so I know you're just being spiteful."

Is he really on about that? You make a face, "have you never been rejected before."

"Of course I've been rejected," he sputters out, "just not without unfounded reason."

You cannot believe what you're hearing, it was like this moment really was a reply of your earlier encounter.

"Are you trying to say I'm being senseless?"

Kylo scoffs, "I'm saying you getting dumped is the universe balancing itself out."

You let out a dry laugh, "wow," you step on his foot, making him reel back in pain, "asshole!"

Kylo nearly topples over as he pulls his leg back and grunts, "you little shit!"

You very much walk away after that. You manage to storm to the edge of the street before you can't move at all anymore.

It takes the honking obnoxious sounds of Kylo coming near for you to realize it was all his doing.

He comes over like a siren, screaming out in the otherwise quiet street, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you out into orbit right now."

You turn to him, feeling just a fraction of a tinge of fear rise up into because he was from a line of powerful Force users after all. But then you remember Ben Solo was all bark and hardly any bite. You scoff, "well, for starters, I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

Kylo laughs. It's honestly pretty dark it makes your skin break out with gooseflesh.

"If you could, you'd have done it by now-" you choke on your last word. Literally, Kylo force chokes you up until he gets close enough to press his hand on your throat.

In all honestly, you were in a damning situation, and yet you were more focused on the way he licked his lips, grit his teeth, and rubbed his fingers on your skin. That, and the fact that you still could actually breathe through the pressure he was putting on you.

You felt your stomach roll.

He pulls you close to him, and before you can think of fighting back, he uses his force to keep your body pinned in place.

He releases you altogether and gives you a once over, "don't underestimate the things I can do."

Kylo looks at the cut on your lip, drawn over with lipstick. He thinks of licking the color off, "the things I want to do to you."

Your heart skips a beat. You huff, hands shooting to his sides the moment he releases you from his Force hold.

His other hands comes to your neck. He tilts your head up at him.

You heave, "and what do you want to do with me... Ben?"

He hisses, "put out that glint in your eye," he steps forward, pressing his fingers into my scalp, "make you beg."

You feel your stomach roll.

It amplifies when Kylo traces the injuries on your face with his fingers.

Needless to say, Kylo was wholly surprised but fully pleased when you got back to your place and didn't put up much a fight against him.

He was a kinky fucker, making you get on your knees, making you do his every whim, making you call him sir.

You figured pretty quickly that he probably craved to be in control, considering how bossy he was. Kylo figured the opposite for you, considering how readily you were to be told what to do.

He fully enjoys making you undress him, especially with all the lip worship you gave on his burning skin. He half regrets making you undress yourself, considering how satisfying it was to see you strip. He would have loved it more had he done it himself. Maybe next time.

He massages your body the moment your bare. He makes it a point not to press on your bruised skin, but then the inner sadist in him felt his insides ignite at the whimper that left your lips when his hand brush over your swollen hips.

"Kylo," you moaned as he kneaded at your sides while he trailed kisses down your sternum.

He lifts his head, smirking as you tugged at his hair, asking for his attention.

"Yes, my sweet?"

With you pressed beneath him on your bed, you buck your hips upward into him. He feels his cockiness double with your neediness.

"I'm gonna have to hear you beg, baby girl," Kylo muses, "that's our deal."

You whimper, "please."

Kylo is insufferable. He grabs your bare thighs and pulls them apart, rubbing himself in your already sopping heat. He pouts, feigning confusion, "please what?"

"Please, sir," you whine.

He laughs, asking again, "please sir what?"

"Please, sir, do something."

How desperate. Adorable.

Kylo sighs and nibbles on your breast as you tighten your legs around him, "hmmm, let me take my time."

Your soft flesh reluctantly retreats out of his mouth as you force his head off you by lifting it up. Your nipple is grazed out of Kylo's teeth as you shimmy beneath him, pushing your way down against his wishes, wanting nothing more than to be aligned on him.

You want to be a brat? Game.

Next thing you know you're paying your dues, pressed on your knees, hands bound to the bed with his belt as he lets your needy core drip down your parted thigh as he barely touches you with his fingers.

"One more time," Kylo coaxes as you sob and whine.

"I'm sorry, sir," you sigh in defeat, eyes watering at the edging.

Kylo shushes you, though he laughs and shifts behind you. Your body jolts you feel him grab your hips that have been tirelessly hanging in the air, waiting for this very moment to come to pass.

"Now, remind me what you want again?" Kylo says as he brushes the tip of his length against your entrance.

You let out a pathetic cry, feeling your core flutter in anticipation. You desperately cry out his name.

He appreciates it, but it isn't an answer. He tells you this exactly.

"Need you," you mutter, "need you to fuck me."

Kylo's ego is through the roof. "Need me to fuck you?" he repeats, though he does not give away how much that strokes his ego.

He does not forget your lack of respect though, "where's that sir, baby?"

You nearly sob as you repeat yourself, "need you to fuck me, sir."

You let out a lewd noise when you feel him slowly push into you.

You immediately try to fuck yourself onto him, but you're too delirious, and he's too strong for you to follow through. Kylo locks you in place, pulling you tightly against him, "hold on, pretty girl. Don't ruin this for me. Need you to calm down and take me well."

All you can do is pull at your bounds, further helping the bruises form there for visibly.

"Kylo," you groan in an empty threat and desperate plea.

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, slowly beginning to move.

You graciously moan in response.

He immediately quickens his pace.

Your noises grow louder.

Kylo wonders about your neighbors. He smiles and decides he doesn't care though. The next moment he thrusts into you so punishingly, as if it was a punishment. But no it felt so good.

Your bodies slamming against each other makes your bed creak in distress as it, itself, ruts into the wall behind its headboard.

You drool on your arm as you breathe hotly against it.

Kylo drives you further into insanity by rubbing into clit.

Needless to say, the next thing you know, you're making even more of a mess and your legs begin to give out as he continues to brutalize into your tenderness.

You come around him with a frantic cry and feel your body quake and tighten around him.

The ripples of ecstasy continue to ride out and heighten when Kylo comes inside you, pouring all his heat, frustration, and want into you.

He basks in your wetness the way you bask in his hardness. Your toes curl and your air leaves you. Kylo's rigid thrusts continuously grow sloppier.

A few moments pass and you both go putty.

You very much remember going for a less intense, more intimate round two after, with him leaning against your headboard and you maneuvering up and down him as your chests pressed together. You very much also remember Kylo curling into you later that night.

What you don't remember was ever kissing him, or feeling him get up to leave the morning after.

So it was a big fuck you when you saw him later that day, with his stupid ass shades in the middle of the afternoon as he whimpered over a ticket.

You made a mental note of the make and plate number of his air speeder next time he makes a mistake of parking it here.

The truth was, Kylo had been waiting for you at the burrito store, not knowing you didn't have a shift that day, and once the pudgy guy, a funny guy honestly, name Marley, told him he couldn't loiter there, he bought a burrito and asked where you were. Marley told him that you didn't have a shift today, so then he made Marley promise to pass a message to you. Kylo trusted him to tell you that he wanted to apologize for leaving.

That fucking summit earlier today was so fucking boring.

And Marley did mean to pass the message on, it's just that he forgot after taking so many burrito orders.

So it came as an even bigger fuck you when Kylo came to your match that same day, cheering you on.

What you wouldn't do to have him trapped in this cage with you.

You made it a point to tell the guys at The Death Star, not to let 500 credits dude anywhere near your changing room later that day, nor to let him in the place again, in fact, unless he was willing to pay 500 credits as a door charge.

So the next day, guess who wastes 500 credits trying to get into The Death Star for absolutely no reason?

Kylo does.

You didn't even fight that day.

The day after that, he has half the brain to go to the burrito stand again instead.

You nearly lunge at him and the stupid shades propped on his pointed nose through the window when he says, "you made your guy charge me 500 credits as a door fee?"

"Sorry, I only do burritos here," you quip back, "don't know what you're talking about."

Kylo brings out some units, "20 burritos then," he raises a finger, "I'll give a tip only if they're made by you."

You growl at him, nearly swatting the credits off the window sill, "the fuck do you need 20 burritos for?"

"I have a family!" Kylo calls back.

"And you're their burrito provider?" you scoff back.

"I am, actually," Kylo growls, "this is the only place in the capital that has nice burritos!"

Marley overhears this and pushes you aside, "why thank you, Kylo."

Kylo turns to him, clearing his throat, "it's not really a compliment. It's my opinion."

Marley beams, "and a great one! You know, I've been meaning to tell you, you look so much like our star prince, Prince Ben Solo."

You watch as Ben Solo cringes and waves his hand, "trust me, we look nothing alike."

You scoff at him.

Marley doesn't get to refute that as suddenly, he remembers something and turns to you, "oh," he gasps, "that reminds me. Kylo was here when you didn't have a shift and said he wanted to speak to you."

You pull your head back, "what?"

Kylo's eye twitches, "wait, are you saying you didn't pass my message to her?"

Marley turns to Kylo, "well, I was stacked up with burrito orders-"

The ding of an alarm from behind you indicates that you no longer have to listen to him, as your shift just ended.

You're not dealing with this.

You immediately hang up your apron and promptly leave, heading out the back, trailing down the narrow alley.

Before you could even reach the end of the exit, you jolt back when you see a heaving Kylo run up to you and block your passage.

You glare at him, watching his adam's apple bob as he gulped. You, yourself, gulp at that.

"I had to leave because I had a duty early in the morning," he rushes out.

You huff and push past him, shoving him back. Again, he forgets about your strength, not that he remembers much about that night beyond your sweet sounds, and is shocked when he nearly topples back.

Kylo does feel something familiar with how he uses his Force to keep you from walking away.

"Kylo, I will fucking deck you, I swear to--"

"I didn't think of leaving a note because I panicked and I'm an idiot."

Kylo circles around you and raises his hands in surrender. He accepts the consequence of you decking him if you really meant to once he removes his Force hold.

You sigh deeply, but don't bash his head against the pavement. He is grateful for it.

"So," Kylo starts, "do you still hate me?"

You narrow your eyes at him and scoff, "what is that? An apology with no apology?"

Kylo watches you walk off and chases after you, not at all convincingly responding with a, "I'm sorry!"

To be fair, even he could tell that he sounded more confused that apologetic.

"Take a hike, Ben."

Kylo growls. He pulls his shades off and manages to stand in front of you. He clenches his jaw and points with his glasses, "you know what. I hate you too."

Your face contorts. You scoff, "great," you force a smile, moving on.

He blocks you again when you sidestep, "you have made me spend thousands of credits in such a short span of time."

You sidestep once more, only to have him block you.

"I never asked you to do any of that!"

"So you're not sorry," Kylo narrows his eyes.

"Not at all," you gleam.

"Then that fucking does it!" he barks.

You look up at him as he seethes.

He steps forward, "you hate me, cause I'm an dick, and I hate you, cause you're a bitch."

You let out an incredulous laugh and feel your insides rage.

You grab him, intent on seriously hurting him, but it seems he anticipates it and grabs you right back then spins you over. He pushes you against the wall of the dingy building, pinning you against his body.

He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

You can feel your heart hammering in yours.

Neither of you can tell the other felt the same.

"Let me go, you fucking-"

"But I'm sure you can't say fucking without thinking of me fucking you, huh," he mutters under his breath as he brings his face near yours.

You tense at his words. You feel your breathing strain after.

Kylo's lips barely curve.

Defiantly, yet halfheartedly, you mutter under your breath, "fuck you."

He leans in and rubs his nose against your ear, "that can be arranged."

When Kylo releases you, you shove him back and walk off.

He heaves as he watches you storm away. He releases a breath in annoyance and licks his lips, finding himself gritting his teeth at his shoes. He got all worked up for nothing?

"Hey!"

Kylo lifts his head

"You better keep watching my matches," you say, turning to him as you walked back, "I get a cut from the door charge."

Kylo shifts in his spot. He does not show how he is pleased to know you want him to come to you again, "that 100% markup is cruel."

You shrug, "well, I hate you, so..."

Kylo holds back his laugh, "you'll pay for that, pretty girl."

You ignore the way your stomach rolls at his pet name. "Make me," you mock, turn away, then walk off, "see you, Ben."

Kylo scoffs, "oh, I'll make you."

[queenaeducan-writes]

The Ascent

Chapter One: Second Watch

Pairing: f!Cadash & Solas (gen) Characters: Female Cadash, Solas Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Other Tags: Dwarf Lore, Elvhenan Lore, Cadash Thaig, Cad’halash Thaig Summary: Thora has dreamed of visiting Cadash Thaig since she was small. After a chance discovery of a journal in the Deep Roads it seems her moment has finally come.

The question Thora glimpsed in Solas’ eyes the night before their final descent doesn’t fade with time. She’d hoped the hurricane of events that followed in the hours and days after would distract him, but as they rise from the belly of the Titan she sees its lingering shine.

At first it’s easy to pretend she doesn’t notice. With all that had unfolded in the past few days, no one could blame her. Renn dead, Valta gone, and the Titan—

The Titan.

She knows now why Cole calls things ‘knots.’ Everything’s all tangled up inside her, and prying one mess loose from another feels like a task more impossible than every victory that lies behind her, and every mountain that lies ahead. Pull one end and the other pulls tighter.

It doesn’t get easier when they stop. So long as they’re moving, the present is too loud for her to focus on her own ghosts. When she brings her hammer down upon a Darkspawn’s head, she’s not thinking about Valta. When she’s skirting the walls of the Deep Roads to find the right plce to turn, she’s not thinking about Titans.

But as they lay the perimeter of their camp, she lays her arms and armour down in a pile by the fire, and feels the weight of the day settle over her shoulders. It bears down on her heavier than any weapon she carries, speaks louder than the idle conversation that surrounds her, and she can’t outrun it anymore. At least, not for the night.

“Hey, Sunflower.” She barely feels Varric tap her shoulder, turning to see the concern reflected in his eyes. Always worrying about someone’s problems but his own. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she grunts, working her right shoulder muscles. “Just feeling that last fight, you know?”

“Yeah…” For a practised liar, he doesn’t put much effort into sounding convinced, but he lets her have it. She wants to thank him for it. Varric jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards their companions. “Listen, one of us’ll take first watch tonight. You get some sleep.”

It takes a sorry amount of effort, but her lips twitch in a smile he won’t buy for a second. “Will do.”

Read the rest here!

[sansaorgana]

— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VII)

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — Baron Harkonnen throws a celebration in the honour of the na-baroness being pregnant with the heir of his house. Feyd-Rautha's unusual gift for his wife surprises everyone.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. It's the longest chapter so far and I wrote it all yesterday...??? I was afraid that after a few chapters I would start losing interest in writing down the story (as usual) but something completely opposite is happening 😳 I was planning a little in my head and I think the story will have 10 chapters but the last chapter might be very long... I am not sure yet. You see, I have a little OCD and I don't like odd numbers... So there is no way the story will have 11 chapters 🤣 Either 10 or 12. Of course I want to thank everyone showing support to my story and my writing. Special thanks to @everandforeveryours for sending me a link to a helpful Dune lore video and allowing me to use a good idea of Feyd's pets being a gift from the Baron Harkonnen. I also want to tag @valeskafics and her fanfic "Between Us" because it uses the same theme I used in this chapter. I had this idea even before reading that amazing story but she wrote it first so I want to be fair! 💕

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death

WORD COUNT — 7,110

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VII)

The sound of grunts, screams and clinging metal accompanied your breakfast as usual when you were eating your morning meal and watching your husband practice in the courtyard. Last night’s memories brought a faint smile to your face as you caressed your womb with your free hand.

Never before had you performed your marital duties in such a way. Nothing hurt you that morning, nothing was aching, nothing was sore. What a shame, you thought at first but you knew that your child’s safety was the priority. You were aware of the mockery of this yearning which was missing Feyd’s roughness and abuse. You both had your victories with each other – he had managed to shape your body and its desires the way he wanted to. He had turned you into a whore.

So, last night’s relative gentleness had been new to the both of you. It hadn’t been as exciting nor fun but you would get used to it for the few upcoming months, you decided.

You looked down and watched him finish the fight so gracefully and swiftly that it made you feel proud as if you were a mother watching her son training. Your fingers tickled your own abdomen teasingly, hoping that your unborn son could feel that. You already imagined him being the one training one day as you’d watch proudly.

Feyd looked up to make sure you had witnessed his victory and you waved at him before going back to your breakfast. He was an exquisite warrior and you wondered why his uncle still made him perform pathetic shows in front of the audience instead of letting him show his real abilities. Perhaps he didn’t want Feyd to become more respectable, at least not yet. It would weaken his position and despite presenting his nephew as his natural successor, he wasn’t eager to let go of the throne just yet.

Feyd had been right the other day when he had told you that it was not the right time to kill the Baron. It would make the nobility of Giedi Prime want to take over the reign and call Feyd an usurper. No, the transfer of power had to go smoothly because every civil war was weakening its state.

You were deep in your thoughts when Feyd joined you on the balcony in his gladiator gear, still breathing heavily after the fight.

“Let me finish my breakfast first,” you told him casually. You knew what he wanted. The same thing as always after the fight.

“Not today,” he only said and sat on the chair next to yours. You raised your eyebrow at him and watched him grabbing a plate and putting some of your food on it.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself so much, I am not made of glass,” you chuckled.

“Who said I’m going to restrain myself?” He looked at you and you moved uncomfortably.

You still had the image of his awful cannibalistic lovers making out with each other and hissing at you with jealousy, threatening to eat your heart.

Feyd’s appetite was insatiate, you didn’t mind sharing him with concubines – especially in your fragile state. But these three women… They simply had to go but you had no idea how to deal with that matter. He seemed to have a strong bond with them.

“What are you still doing here then?” You snapped at him angrily and looked away.

“My uncle is throwing a celebration tonight in your honour,” Feyd explained and you looked back at him, surprised.

“In my honour?” You asked in disbelief.

“You’re carrying the Harkonnen heir,” he reminded you with a proud smirk. “It is a custom to celebrate it,” he added.

“What kind of celebration?” You wanted details. Once again, this side of the Harkonnen culture was not known to you.

And to think that your father had been advertising you as a woman who was very educated in that matter.

“The nobility of Giedi Prime will come to celebrate and shower you with gifts,” Feyd watched with delight as you smiled and your eyes sparkled.

“Now you’re talking!” You were visibly excited.

“I came here to ask what kind of gift I can give to you,” Feyd’s words made you freeze for a second.

You did not expect that.

“Keep in mind I only have a few hours to get it,” he added. “So don’t ask me for impossible things.”

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. A very delicious idea and it made your heart pound faster in your chest. You had your large victory with Feyd but you still weren’t sure how far he’d go for you, you still weren’t sure if his domestication process had been complete. This could be a great test of his obedience but it could also anger him. You decided to risk it since your new status was making you untouchable anyway.

“Well, there is something I want,” you whispered, seductively, as you looked deep inside his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked and you chuckled as you mysteriously covered your mouth with your hand. He furrowed his brow at that gesture and you beckoned him over as if you wanted to tell him a secret.

Unsurely, he leaned in for you to whisper into his ear.

“I want to be your only pet… like you are mine,” you breathed out and bit on his earlobe gently before pulling away and seeing the absolute terror on his face.

He was trying to hide it the best he could but you only smirked at him, not expanding your thoughts any further. You didn’t care what he’d do to them, you just wanted them to be discarded.

Feyd did not say anything. He took one last bite of his breakfast and left the table to walk away and walk out of the chambers. It was a little disappointing that he hadn’t given you any reaction whatsoever but you decided to give him some time to process your request and his own feelings.

You almost had a nervous breakdown in front of your wardrobe and it felt humiliating to be so emotional about the outfit to choose. Like all these months on Giedi Prime hadn’t changed the core of your personality – you were spoiled.

“Na-baroness, please, calm down, it’s going to be alright,” Astra’s eyes widened at you.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me…” You sniffed your tears back.

“It’s the baby, I’m sure, my Lady,” Cara assured you.

“There is no point in crying over a dress, I’m so stupid,” you sat on the bed and hid your face in your hands. 

“I think there is, actually, my Lady,” Astra swallowed thickly before sharing her thought and you looked up at her, questioningly. Cara did the same thing. “I mean, na-baroness, the clothes you’re wearing, they’re reflecting your power and personality. May I dare to say… Women do not have as many opportunities to display their power as men and for noble women… the way they’re presenting themselves… that’s very important, my Lady,” she explained. “Forgive me for my boldness but on the day of your wedding, na-baroness, your dress was turned into a mockery by the na-baron. But on the day of his fight in the arena, you established your dominance with that red leather dress, my Lady,” she bowed down her head and waited for you to scold her.

“You should have just shut your mouth,” Cara hissed at her.

But you only laughed cheerfully and extended your hands towards the girls to hold them.

“Oh, girls, I adore you,” you assured them. “Thank you for your insight, Astra. You are a very smart girl and you are right,” you told her and she looked up in disbelief as her eyes sparkled. “So are you, Cara, but you need to have more courage,” you squeezed Cara’s hand to show her some of your gratitude, too.

You didn’t want to favour any of them because it could lead to the other one growing to feel resentment and betraying you. You knew perfectly well how it felt like to be the less favoured one.

They both smiled sweetly and helped you to get up to choose from the dresses all over again. You wanted to look like a Harkonnen but you wanted to stand out, too. Not only were you the na-baroness but it was also your day, your celebration, your moment to shine.

Someone knocked upon your doors and Cara went to open them to see who that was.

“We have a gift for na-baroness,” you heard a male voice and you nodded your head at Cara for her to let them in.

Two of Baron Harkonnen's servants entered your bedroom carrying a big black box. You furrowed your brows at it as one of them bowed down and handed you a letter.

My Baroness, this gown is a gift from me. My own mother wore it for her celebration after conceiving an heir. The tailors have been working on it to adjust it to your size all night. It is your decision whether to wear it for the feast or not but it would bring me great pleasure to see you in it and proving your loyalty to the House Harkonnen. – Baron H.

A chill went down your spine. You didn’t expect that. It was his attempt to show his dominance over you, to test your loyalty as if there was still some hint of doubt about it. You were a Harkonnen now. You had nothing to prove.

“Unpack it,” you ordered his servants. You wanted to see the gown first.

The skirt was made of black leather with a long and slim train that resembled a snake. The bodice was made of black metallic net so tightly knotted that it was barely transparent but there were red gemstones scattered all over it, forming an emblem of the House Harkonnen on the chest.

You didn’t know what to do. The dress was stunning but you knew that wearing it would only give Baron a satisfaction you did not want to give him. On the other hand, you didn’t want to be too openly rebellious towards him like you were with your husband. And some part of you was scared to disobey him as you had disobeyed Feyd when you had been given a dress from him.

“I will wear it, thank you,” you nodded at the servants and they nodded their heads before walking out of the room and leaving you alone with your girls.

“So, problem solved,” Astra chuckled softly as she touched the fabric of the gown with awe.

“Not entirely,” Cara scolded her. “Isn’t our na-baroness also the Duchess Atreides now? This dress is to humiliate her,” she pointed out and then gave you an apologetic smile.

“That is true, my darling,” you told her. “But I have bent my knee in front of Baron Harkonnen. House Atreides – which I represent – serves the Baron now,” you explained. “Let’s put it on,” your eyes sparkled at the gown.

The bodice felt like an armour but the skirt was regal and feminine. It was a perfect mix, you had to admit. You hated the Baron for understanding your fashion sense so quickly. Suddenly, an odd feeling crossed your mind.

“I'm wondering what he was like when he was young, The Baron,” you told your girls as they widened their eyes at you. “What kind of husband would he be…”

“My Lady!” Astra gasped and you laughed at the terror and shock on her face.

“I just like getting pretty things,” you shrugged your arms and winked at her as you admired yourself in the mirror.

“If na-baroness keeps saying such things, you might make na-baron jealous and angry,” Cara reminded you. Little did she know she had just given you a great idea.

“Oh, maybe I want that, my sweet,” you chuckled at her. “You know what?” You decided to change the subject as the girls looked at each other, surprised. “I think I want to wear my hair up this time. Do you think you can manage that now?”

“Yes!” Astra was excited for the idea. “And we can attach the red gemstones to the hairdo to match the dress!”

“Sounds good,” you nodded at her with a smile.

You were supposed to enter the dining room as the last one, side by side with your husband for all the guests to admire you and cheer. So you were waiting in the room nearby, still admiring yourself in the mirror constantly. Feyd wasn’t there yet – in fact you hadn’t seen him since breakfast.

When the doors behind you opened without knocking, you knew already it had to be him and indeed, you spotted him in the mirror’s reflection. He was wearing his black leather uniform and squinted his eyes at you.

You turned around with a sly smile to show off your gown but he didn’t look very pleased.

“What is this dress?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“I hoped you’d tell me I look beautiful, dear husband,” you put your hands on your hips.

“I didn’t say you did not,” he pointed out and you smirked. “But I don’t recall giving you such a dress and I sincerely doubt it is one of those you brought with you from Caladan,” he gritted his teeth and you noticed his whole body went tense.

“It is a gift from your uncle,” you tried to sound as innocent as possible. “It was his mother’s,” you added and gasped in awe in an exaggerated way as you caressed the skirt.

“My uncle gave it to you?” Feyd approached you quickly and tugged on one of the sleeves as you squealed.

“What are you doing? Do you want to break it?!” You managed to push his hand away but his face was now inches away from yours and you could see anger spilling out of his eyes. His clenched jaw was practically shaking. “What is your problem? Can’t I accept gifts from your uncle? He is my family now as much as you are and he is my Baron whom I serve,” you added.

“I thought you wanted me to kill him,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth.

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. His gifts are nicer than yours,” you teased as you giggled cruelly into his face. “I mentioned to my girls earlier today that he would make a good husband if he was younger and healthier,” you continued. It was delicious to watch him in such torment but some part of you felt bad for it, too.

“You’re more stupid than I thought then,” Feyd spat out. “So disappointing.”

You let out a nervous laugh. It hadn’t gone as you expected. You had to take it back as fast as possible. You knew that he admired you for being cunning and you couldn't spoil that.

“Oh, darling,” you cupped his face and he flinched but you shushed him, “can’t you see I’m teasing you, my pet?” You raised your eyebrow at him. His muscles relaxed but his eyes were full of confusion. “You should have seen your ugly face when I was saying these things,” you giggled and you leaned in to place soft kisses upon his lips and cheeks.

“Why did you wear that dress?” He only asked after a short while, when he was less angry already.

“Because it’s pretty and I don’t want him to think that I am his enemy. He probably thinks that already but I don’t want to show it,” you explained softly. “Sometimes you have to lose a small battle in order to win the war.”

“He’s going to stare at you all evening. I hate it when he does that,” Feyd told you. You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs.

“He can stare as much as he wants. I didn’t wear it for him. I wore that for my husband and for my son,” you assured him.

These days feeding him with all these praises and sweet things felt easier than usual. These days it felt almost natural. You didn’t have to plan what to say. It was coming directly from your poisoned heart; filled with the venom of unwanted affection towards the man standing in front of you.

The guards knocked upon the door and you realised it was the time to finally leave the room and join the guests in the dining room. You took a deep breath in and lowered your arms to give your husband’s hands a squeeze before leaving his side and approaching the doors.

“Are you coming?” You looked back at him.

“I am,” he joined you and put his hand on your waist. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he smirked at you and you rolled your eyes but on the inside you felt the warmth spilling all over your body.

Feyd led you inside the dining room after you two had been announced. You were watched by the cheering people as you gracefully and slowly walked towards the podium with two large, black chairs. The Baron was sitting on the opposite side of the room and watching you with a smirk as the long train of your dress followed you as if it was a real snake indeed, slithering on the black marble floor.

You watched Feyd taking a seat on one of the chairs and you were about to sit on yours, when you felt his hands grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You didn’t want to fight him in front of all these people so you kept your smile on. And – even though it was taking away some of your dignity – it felt good, too. His right hand with the Harkonnen signet ring landed on your abdomen possessively. The long train of your dress was falling down the side of the podium as you decided to use the second chair as a footstool.

You weren’t presenting yourselves like a dignified noble couple of the future Baron and Baroness of Giedi Prime. You looked like barbarian rulers of the savage tribe; sitting lazily on your thrones and not caring much about the etiquette. It wasn’t exactly how you had planned this evening to go but you loved to spot the annoyance on the Baron’s face.

Once you were seated, the guests sat down as well and they were announced one after another to approach you, bow down and show off their gifts to you.

Lots of the presents weren’t actually for you but for your son. There were blades and knives of all sorts – all of them beautifully made. Some lords gifted you jewellery and the Bene Gesserit woman gave you an old book from the Bene Gesserit library. You couldn’t see her face behind the veil but you were sure that her eyes were watching you as carefully as the Baron’s. And as your aunt’s friend she was most likely your grandfather’s spy, too.

All the lords and ladies were back in their seats and you had a feeling it was all over now. You tried to hide your disappointment about the fact that there was no gift from Feyd when the servant announced:

“To Na-Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen, Duchess of The House Atreides and a mother of his son, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen presents a humble offering hoping to win her favours,” the man bowed down as three servants approached you. Each one of them was holding a black, covered plate.

Everyone was staring in anticipation, knowing your husband’s reputation they wanted to see what kind of present it could be. You felt his muscles tensing as his hand squeezed your womb even more possessively. He was excited for you to see and your heart skipped a beat as you already had a feeling what it was.

Feyd nodded at the servants and they took the black, velvet veils off of the plates as everyone gasped in shock and disgust. You tried very hard not to react in any way at the sight of the three familiar heads of your husband’s pet darlings.

You swallowed thickly, feeling his impatience to see your reaction. From the corner of your eye you noticed that the Baron was very displeased and you wondered why.

The eyes of the guests were wide as everyone on Giedi Prime had known about Feyd’s cannibalistic lovers. Everyone in the room was aware of the significance of this gift and perhaps that was the reason behind Baron’s anger.

You didn’t want to thank your husband for the present. It would be humiliating to thank him in front of everyone for getting rid of his concubines. However, he was expecting praise as the rest of the room was expecting some sort of reaction. You turned your head around to place a passionate kiss upon his lips as you cupped his cheek with one of your hands and the guests cheered. The servants took the heads away and you were glad because the sight was making you feel sick.

As you were kissing Feyd who seemed to be very proud of himself, you realised that you had just killed people. Perhaps not directly but they died because of your order and your request. These creatures were twisted and sick and dangerous but they were still – in some way – people. You remembered your father’s words about taking human life.

People should not decide about other people’s right to live or die. As noblemen in power we are burdened with the responsibility of making such decisions way more often than we should. It is important to remember the value of each and every single human life.

You didn’t want to think of that. You didn’t want that feeling somewhere deep in your heart that you disappointed your father. He was dead and he was the one who had sent you here, causing you to become like this. He would have no right to judge you. You wanted to survive more than anything because the life you had been living so far was not satisfying enough. And now, orphaned and basically homeless, you finally could make a new life for yourself. This time everything would be on your terms.

You finished the kiss with a smile as you leaned in to peck Feyd’s lips again with a sweet chuckle. The servants placed a table in front of you as the feast was supposed to begin.

“Good boy,” you whispered to him.

“My Lady,” he nodded his head at you with a wide smile, showing off his black teeth. This time it didn’t even make you flinch as you had grown used to his face. Perhaps it was because of the child in your womb but you leaned in once again to put yet another kiss upon his lips and he eagerly kissed you back.

Feyd kept you on his lap during the feast. You were feeding him his almost raw steak with your fork and he was feeding you with cake that had been prepared for your celebration. You remembered your wedding celebration and chuckled to yourself how different these two banquets were.

At some point of digging the fork and knife into Feyd’s steak, you felt your mouth watering at the sight of blood leaking out of it on the plate. It deeply confused you since you had always found these disgusting.

“What is it, pet?” Feyd placed a kiss on your neck, waiting for another piece of meat you’d feed him with.

“It’s nothing, I…” You hesitated, your eyes fixated on the steak with a mix of fascination and confusion. Feyd noticed it and laughed at you.

“Try it,” he encouraged you but you shook your head, refusing. “Try it,” he took the fork from your hand and turned your head around before putting the piece of meat in front of your mouth. “He wants it, not you. It’s for him,” the hand he kept on your abdomen squeezed your womb. You still looked unsure. “He’s a Harkonnen, he has his needs,” Feyd explained.

“I’m a Harkonnen, too,” you whispered and he smirked.

“Then open your mouth like a good girl,” he ordered and you obeyed, not ever breaking eye contact. When the piece of a bloody steak was inside your mouth already, you let it melt a little on your tongue. Feyd placed his hand on your throat possessively but gently – his intention was not to hurt you but to feel you swallow.

You couldn’t tell the steak was delicious but it surprisingly was not as awful as you had expected. It had to be the effect of your pregnancy but you didn’t want to refuse your son anything he wanted. You wanted him to be born as strong as he could and to become a warrior even greater than his father.

As Feyd was staring at you with admiration, you suddenly realised that it would be so much easier to turn your son into another guard dog of yours. You could give Feyd many sons and each of them would be willing to kill for his mother and her ambitions. You got dreamy for a while, sincerely hoping Feyd wouldn’t insist on raising his children the same way he had been raised by his uncle. Despite your dream of having strong warriors sons, you didn't want them to achieve that through pain and losing a sense of humanity.

You gave Feyd a sweet smile and let him kiss you once more, not caring at all what all the guests had to think. And caring only a little about the Baron’s visible anger.

After a while the guests left their seats as they began approaching one another and exchanging courtesies. Many of them walked up to you to congratulate you personally. It felt delightful to see so much fear and respect in the eyes of those Harkonnen men who had looked so scary to you a few months earlier but now you saw them as nothing but pathetic.

You spotted that one of the Harkonnen ladies looked surprisingly familiar. She was talking to another woman. She had a hooded dress but for a brief while you were convinced that you could spot… hair. Astra and Cara had informed you that sometimes Harkonnen noble women were wearing wigs to look prettier but you had also been aware that nowadays it was considered as a faux pas because of you and your very real and very natural hair.

“Excuse me,” you left your husband’s side and left him with one of the lords. He was watching you walk away but he did not stop you.

With your heart squeezed in your chest, you touched a shoulder of one of those women and they both turned around, startled. You gasped at the sight of them.

They were your old maids you had brought with you from Caladan. The ones that had been given to the Harkonnen noble lords.

“My Lady…” They both bowed down and you looked them up and down.

Both of them were swollen with children and their faces looked exhausted. You could swear that their skin was a shade paler than you remembered. One of them had her hair shaved off completely but the other one kept her locks and she also had makeup on.

“My girls, where have you been?” You asked them with a gentle smile. “I hope your husbands treat you well,” you added as you touched their arms and they both flinched, especially the bald one.

“I can’t complain, na-baroness,” the one with hair told you. “Beginnings were difficult but now I’m a lady and not a maid,” she placed her hand on her swollen belly.

“I am very sorry, I hope you both know I had nothing to do with what happened,” you bit on your lower lip.

“My Lady, I have accepted my faith a long time ago,” she sighed. “My husband is not as handsome as yours, na-baroness, but he is worshipping me for my looks. I am sorry for keeping my real hair, I know it is rude to show it off around you, my Lady. That is why I have a hood on my head. But my husband doesn’t allow me to cut it. In fact, he wants them to be as long as they can get,” she explained.

“I do not mind you wearing hair on your head,” you told her. “Yours is real, you have a right to wear it.”

“But not to show it off, my Lady,” she explained.

“Is that some new law I’ve had no idea of?” You chuckled, watching the other one from the corner of your eye. She was acting extremely odd and her pupils were dilated to the point her eyes almost looked black.

“Not officially, no, as far as I am concerned,” your former maid explained, “but the Baron himself was telling the lords that their wives should not wear wigs because it is insulting to the new na-baroness,” she bowed down slightly.

“And what about you, darling? What happened to your beautiful hair?” You looked at the other one as she gasped and bowed down as well, nervously.

“M-my na-baroness,” she stuttered out.

“What is wrong with her?” You asked the other one.

“Her husband, he…”

“My husband is the greatest and the most generous man I could ever ask for, my Lady,” the startled one interrupted her as she widened her eyes even further at you. “There is not a day I am not grateful for him,” she continued and you squinted your eyes at her. You had given the same speech to your grandfather the other day about Feyd-Rautha. But your speech was purposefully planned out and she sounded like a programmed machine.

You wanted to ask her about more things when you noticed a huge and very unpleasant looking Harkonnen lord approaching you angrily. He bowed down at the sight of you but then he grabbed the bald woman by her arm and pulled her closer to him.

“What have I told you about walking away?!” He scolded her.

“I-I am so sorry, my Lord, please forgive me, I did not mean to disobey, please, my Lord…” She trembled.

“My Lord,” you told him and he laid his angry eyes at you, “it is my fault. I wanted to speak to my former maid. Please, I did not mean to steal your wife away from you.”

“Na-baroness doesn’t have to explain herself to me,” he bowed down to you. “It is an honour for you to speak to my wife, my Lady,” he added and dragged her away with him.

You watched with shock, terror and sadness but there was nothing you could do. You had to be a harsh na-baroness Harkonnen and accept their customs. You didn’t want to make scenes and ruin your own celebration.

After all, you were selfish, too.

“Mine is not like that,” the other woman only told you. “There he is,” she pointed at the man talking to Feyd-Rautha. The men looked at you and you both waved at them as they nodded. Her husband was not very good looking indeed but he wasn’t as scary as the other one. “I told you, my Lady, it could be worse,” she told you. “But be careful with the pregnancy,” she warned as you raised an eyebrow at her.

“What do you mean?”

“These babies… their babies, I mean… They change you. I hope not permanently, but they do. And I feel as if the child is feeding off of my life energy and strength. I am weakened and exhausted,” she sighed. “But it is alright. I know my husband will not let me die.”

“I do not have to worry about these things either,” you reminded her but some part of you tried to convince yourself at the same time.

“Of course, my Lady,” she nodded her head and your husbands approached you.

“I see a little reunion, my Lady,” your former maid’s husband bowed down at you. “Congratulations, na-baroness.”

“I congratulate you, too, my Lord,” you pointed at the woman’s abdomen and he smirked as he pulled her closer to him.

“I will forever be grateful to you, na-baroness, for bringing such a gem with you all the way from Caladan,” he told you and you gave him a faint smile. “Please, do forgive me for letting me keep her hair.”

“I don’t mind her hair, my Lord,” you told him.

“As long as she’s not showing it off,” suddenly Feyd barked as you furrowed your brow at him.

“Feyd!” You chuckled nervously, ashamed of his behaviour.

“It is understandable, my Lord na-baron,” the man bowed his head and walked away with his wife.

“What was that?” You asked your husband.

“No common lady shall outshine my wife,” he explained with his jaw clenched.

“Please,” you laughed softly as you cupped his angry face, “she’s my former maid. How could she ever outshine me?” You asked him and then you teased. “Do you think I am so easy to outshine, dear husband?”

“N-no, that is not what I meant,” his eyes widened as he shook his head. “I want you to be the only woman on this planet to shine.”

“Then don’t stand in the way of light,” you leaned in to whisper into his ear and then you giggled before kissing his cheek.

Feyd was asked to stay longer at the celebration by some of the lords who wanted to drink and party with him and other men but you decided to go to your chambers as the rest of the ladies. It was late already and you were getting tired so you said goodnight to your husband and the guests before excusing yourself and walking out of the dining room.

For the first time you noticed that there was no guard following you and your exhaustion suddenly turned into excitation. Since everyone was busy with the celebrations and you were free of company, it was a perfect excuse to wander a little around the fortress and through the corridors that you still had not explored properly.

It was your home now and you wanted to know all of it. At this point you had a few paths memorised already and you took the known one just in case you got lost and couldn’t find the way back. You passed the doors leading to the library and you pushed the next one open.

It was a Memory Room as they called it and it had the Harkonnen souvenirs and war trophies on display. You weren’t actually forbidden to go there at all but you had never gone there anyway. You had read about it in one of the books and you wanted to see it yourself but without any guard staring at you.

At this point of the night, the room was dark and empty with no one guarding it and the guards who were supposed to stand outside were most likely partying with other men as they abandoned their duties for the time of celebration.

You gasped at the size of the room as you looked around and allowed your eyes to get used to the darkness. Then you began walking around and looking at the exhibits behind the glass. The Harkonnen enemies were many and great and yet, all that was left of them remained now nothing but a trophy in this room.

There were other artefacts as well – like the one you were looking for. And when you finally spotted it, at the end of the wall, you smiled to yourself as you looked up. It was the blade given to you by the warrior during your wedding ceremony. He had won the bloody contest and swore to you that for his na-baroness he would shed the blood of his enemies. The blade still had dried up blood on it and below the exhibit there was an engraved inscription.

10191 AG – the blade given to Na-Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen of The House Atreides on the day of her wedding to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen from The Wedding Games winner Maxim Arseni

Lost in your thoughts of your name being engraved there forever, you stopped paying attention to your surroundings.

“I see you’re basking in your glory, Baroness,” a familiar, unpleasant voice startled you. You turned around and spotted the Baron himself floating in the air in the middle of the room with all his machinery behind him. How could you not hear him coming? You cursed yourself for allowing yourself to be so inattentive.

And now you were alone with him in a dark room when your husband was partying with other lords and couldn’t hear you even if you screamed for help.

“I am not basking, my Lord,” you bowed down slightly as you approached him a little to be able to see him more, “and surely I have no glory attached to my name yet.”

He smirked.

“You wore the dress,” he pointed out.

“It is beautiful, my Lord, thank you,” you nodded.

“Do you know that the harpies were my gift to Feyd for one of his birthdays? They costed me quite a lot as they had been genetically modified for him. He had a tendency of getting bored of his previous pets so I prepared him something special. He was mesmerised by them and their infinite sexual desire, their bloodthirst and devotion,” Baron was explaining to you but you could hear irritation in his voice.

Now you could understand why he was so angry. You accidentally told his dear nephew to get rid of his expensive gift.

“Did you tell him to get rid of them or did that boy do it himself?” Baron asked and you remained silent because both answers would only make it worse.

If you told him it had been your idea, he’d get his proof that you were playing a game indeed. If you lied to him it had been Feyd’s idea, he’d start thinking that Feyd was getting weak.

Unless…

“I asked him to get rid of them, my Lord. I’ve had no idea they were so meaningful,” you admitted. “But I did not specify what I want to be done to them. Their death surprised me no less than you, my Baron. His bond with them was known to me,” you added as genuinely as possible.

“I am aware what game you’re playing, Baroness,” Baron’s voice was surprisingly calm, almost as if he admired you. “Such a timid little thing that came here only a few months ago, tripping as she walked towards my throne on the first day… already making my life more exciting,” his eyes sparkled.

“You forgot how it’s like to have real enemies, did you not, my Lord?” You asked him, carefully. “They’re all so scared of you that they don’t even walk up close to you anymore. They are no worthy opponents. Even my father did not dare to fight you, he preferred to give me away for peace.”

“Your father was weak, Duchess Atreides,” Baron pointed out.

“I know,” you shrugged your arms.

“So you do know what use there is of weak men. Do you really want our Feyd to become one?” He asked and you were almost caught off guard by the tone of his voice. He was talking to you as if you were an equal.

He already knew that he was losing his control over Feyd-Rautha to you but he still hoped to share him.

Of course you couldn’t trust him. He was pretending to be your friend for his own gain. However, it meant that you had been promoted in the ladder of his enemies if his strategy was no longer humiliation and threats but fake friendship instead.

“I do not wish him to be weak,” you explained. “It is the last thing I want,” you told him, truthfully. “What you did to him… was awful. But it is something that cannot be taken back and it is something I do not want to take back,” you emphasised. 

“Yet now, after seeing his gift, all the Harkonnen lords are whispering between each other that my successor is getting weak for a woman,” Baron informed you and you gritted your teeth. If he wasn’t lying, the news were not pleasing you either. But it was useful for your little plan. “And what do we do now, my Baroness?” Baron asked.

“Let him fight in the arena,” you proposed, trying to hide the excitement on your face. He couldn’t know it was a part of your scheming, he had to think it was an idea that had just popped into your head. 

“Hmm,” he hummed to himself. “What do you mean?”

“It’s going to be his hundredth kill, right?” You asked and he nodded. “And as far as I am concerned it’s going to be his birthday, too.”

“Yes, has he told you?” Baron laughed.

“No, my servants have,” you answered truthfully. “I think for this special occasion you should give him a real warrior to kill. Not someone weak and not someone drugged. Let these whispering lords see how weak he is getting indeed. They’re quickly going to see that they were wrong about him. I’ve watched him fight and he’s excellent,” you finished.

“Interesting,” Baron squinted his eyes at you. “But also very convenient for you if he dies there. Because you're already carrying his son.”

“I have no gain in Feyd dying in the arena,” you laughed at him. “If he dies there, you’re going to kill me the moment I push the baby out and train him like you trained my husband,” you told him and then you realised that it was really true.

A shiver went down your spine. You suddenly regretted your proposition but it could not be taken back now.

“I will think of that,” Baron nodded his head at you. “You should go to sleep now and rest,” he added and you bowed down before approaching the doors, trying not to show how much you wanted to get away as fast as possible. “However,” he started and you slowed down with your hand already on the doors’ handle, “you think that I resent you way more than I actually do, Baroness,” he added and you swallowed thickly before nodding your head and walking out.

You sighed with relief at the sight of the familiar corridor and you hurried to the staircase leading to the living quarters to finally go back to your room.

MASTERLIST

[frogchiro]

in her arms, i am calm

so umm,, after the scrumptious surprise that mhy gave us in the form of the fatui harbingers, so as promised, I decided to write a little something for the man that literally made my poor brain shut down and go into stand-by mode, Pierro <3

as promised, I'm tagging the wonderful @jade-parcels, she has been and still is my biggest inspiration SINCE MONTHS, and you may know me under the anon alias Fish!🐡 :) many other people have been so kind and encouraging, so i decided to bite the bullet and make a grand reveal! i'm dedicating this to you darling jade, I really hope you and others will enjoy it as much as I did writing this! also this turned out way less dirty than I intended, but what can I say, I'm a whore for fluffy smut 😭

warnings: reader is +18 years old!! (indicated to be as old as childe but feel free to read it as you please!), fem!reader (reader is refered to as a female with female body parts), heavy NSFW themes, age gap, referenced violence (not against the reader), possible dark themes, also please note that I took HEAVY liberties regarding Pierro and the rest of the Harbingers lore as we literally know almost nothing about them, so please take this with a grain of salt ;)

маленькая-little one

Pierro prided himself on many things, from his bravery and prowess in battle that led him and his country to many victories over the many years he served the Tsaritsa, the countless riches he aquired and hoarded in his mansion, right up to being crowned the First Fatui Harbinger, the Pierrot, the right hand of the Tsaritsa, something he knew many would kill for.

Yet all of that paled next to you, the little beauty that captured his old but sharp as ever eyes. For the first time in...years Pierro was truly at loss of words, for the first time he just... didn't know. Why did you, little, young, naive you capture the eyes of the oldest, most prominent Fatui Harbinger? He knew you of course, how could he not; you were the Tsaritsa's personal handmaiden, her favourite. You always accompanied your Goddess wherever she took you, which was almost everywhere, and he watched you with his snowy, sharp eyes, watched as your own clear (e/c) ones watched and rapidly tried to take everything in, your curiosity and wonder almost being child-like and naive in his eyes.

'She's still young my friend, I think you forgot how it was being like her, cut her some slack would you~'

Came the rich, deep voice of Pantalone, his fellow Harbinger. Pierro only rolled his eyes in quiet annoyance as he continued to watch you as your beautiful eyes flittered across the sprawling ballroom being decorated for the upcoming ball, everyone working extra hard as the Tsaritsa herself decided to attend the preparations, her favourite girl in tow, dutifully following her Majesty and listening to her speech about something the blonde man couldn't care less, his eyes focused on you.

Reminiscing the not-so-long-ago past, Pierro was interrupted with a sweet sweet whine that came from under him and he was quickly focused back on the present and on you.

'I'm sorry маленькая, I got a bit lost in my thoughts and neglected you eh? We can't have that, can we?'

Pierro rasped in a deep rumbling voice that you could feel through his chest in your tummy, the man always made sure to keep you as close to himself as physically possible, in and out of bed.

'To keep the cold away', he would say, but judging by the faint fond look in his usually stony eyes you could tell it way an excuse to simply touch you, not that you nor he'd ever admit it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the strong thurst that moved you up the bed a little and caused you to cling tightly to Pierro's broad back that you loved so much. Another lond whine escaped your mouth as the man above you grunted and you felt a particulary well aimed thrust hit your sweet sport head on. You knew that although Pierro would never admit this, he loved it when you were loud and vocal in bed, so you let go of all the remaining thoughts and just let yourself feel.

The lovemaking session lasted well into the night, only the blazing hot fire in the enormous fireplace, the bright starts and Moon in the dark sky and the tiny snowflakes being the witnesses to your passion.

Pierro was watching you all night; all your gasps, moans and groans of pleasure, the faces you made, all the little eye rolls and your little pink tongue sticking out a bit, he watched it all with rapt attention, wanting to burn all these images into his mind and treasure them forever. He came shortly after your orgasm, how could he not? Your perfect walls clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all he's worth and the sudden wet gush he felt send the man over the edge and he allowed to loose himself in the earth-shattering pleasure. With the last few deep thrusts that you swore touched your deepest, most intimate parts, he came with a rumbling growl and let himself fill you up to the brim. You moaned weakly and flinched at the feeling of hot cum shooting against your poor battered cervix, but your lover was quick to hold you still with his strong arms, not allowing you to even move an inch away from his hips as he quickly leaned down to capture your lips with his, and you have to admit, for a man as stoic and ice-cold as him, his kisses were sure expressive.

After he parted his lips from you, Pierro let out a heavy breath that he swore felt as if a stone was lifted from his weary heart. He kept looking at you, happy, full and sated and terribly sleepy as you always were after a night like this, you sometimes would tease him that for a man his age he sure had the strength and stamina of a young stallion at which he would always roll his eyes and tell you to get lost.

But now, in the privacy of his chambers, he looked at you with a look of adoration and utter devotion, his pale eyes looking and capturing every little detail of your tired and sweaty face as your heavy pants mingled with each other, your lips almost touching as you smiled tiredly up at him before reaching out and cupping his face in your small soft hands, your fingers caressing his face, combing through his long golden hair and beard, mapping every single one of his features before bringing his face closer and closing the distance between you.

Contrary to the heavy, lustful kisses full of tongue and teeth in the heat of the moment, these kisses were slow, calm and full on emotions, lips delicately touching and moving, tongues barely grazing each other.

After some time of post-coital cuddles and affection and a bit of soft whispery talk, you finally let your tired eyes rest after cuddling up close to your lover, but all the raging thoughts came back to keep Pierro from sleep.

After placing you on his broad chest and tugging the numerous thick comforters and luxurious furs over you two and making sure you were snug and warm, he let his thoughts wander.

Pierro knew painfully well that you two were an odd pair to say the least, in fact it was a big fucking understatement. He was...well, him, The First Fatui Harbinger, the stronges of them all, The Pierrot, the terror that shook the very earth where he stood, and you were this innocent little thing that was way to curious and clever for your own good.

He was no poet nor a great bard that could sing endless songs and ballads dedicated to your beauty, so he just described you as 'stunning' yet he felt immensely frustrated to call you this one simple word.

The planes of your unmarked (s/c) soft and healthy skin, the tiny little spots and blemishes that made you distinctly you, your (h/c) hair, always so thick and shiny, he loves to touch it and comb his hands through when you sleep, your wide curious (e/c) eyes. But what draws him to you the most are your perfect full lips that he oh so loves to kiss and trace with his fingers, the smiles you give him and when you laugh at his dry non-existent humor are angelic to his ears.

Don't get him wrong, the ever vigilant Harbinger sees and hears all the whispers of soldiers and servants alike, he's painfully aware of the gossip and rumors, of them talking about what a big old brute wants with a beautiful young thing like you.

Pierro frowns and almost growls with frustration when he remembers all the times that unhinged ginger brat made a fool out of himself to gain your attention, but can he really blame him? You're both the same age or at least close to him, much closer than you are to Pierro, or the stone-cut Arlecchino has the faintest blush on her icy face when you bring her some document the Tsaritsa personally asked you to deliver, and Pierro is about to recall even more scenarios like this that make his blood boil but he felt you move against his side, your naked breasts squishing oh so deliciously against his scarred chest and just like this all the negative toughts are gone and instead are replaced with these strange warm fuzzy feelings he feels whenever he looks at you.

He decides that enough is enough, he can't afford a headache that will make him miserable and cranky, so he lets go of those dark frustrating thoughts and moves down so that your face is in hidden in his neck and he allows himself to comb his fingers through your hair. He breaths in deep, taking in your distinctive scent that mixed with his creating something new and wonderful, and so the gruff, cold and seemingly unapproachable Harbinger lets himself rest and succumb to a deep slumber with the one good thing in his long life safe in his arms.

[here4theheartbreak]

Afternoon Naps (myg + pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5.5k

Tags: Smut, Consensual Somnophilia, Vampires, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Vampire Sex, Vampire Biting/Blood Drinking, Sleeping Medication, Consensual Necrophilia (Technically), Temporary Character Death, Vampire Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin, Bottom Park Jimin

Summary: Jimin finds out his boyfriend's biggest secret, and reveals his own biggest kink. They realize that this can benefit both of them.

A/N: Fifth Kinktober fic, day 7: somnophlia; this fic is also filling a request from ages ago. @sujigguk requested a fic with “you’re not human”

A/N 2: The fic contains technically necrophilia -- vampire lore in this fic has the vampire "dying" (i.e. heart/breathing stops, body goes cold, rigor mortis sets in) while resting in their coffins. All sexual acts are discussed and consented to by both parties prior to this.

“Jimin!” Yoongi’s voice was sharp… And not all that happy when he opened the door of his apartment. Jimin smiled sheepishly. 

“Surprise?” He said softly. 

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi looked tense as he stood in the doorway. From what Jimin could see over his shoulder, his blinds were drawn, and his apartment was still mostly dark. Strange, given it was nearly ten in the morning.

“Did I wake you?”

Yoongi hesitated. “No.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little. “I wanted to come by… It’s been a week.”

“We’ve been texting.” 

Jimin’s smile disappeared completely. “I disturbed you. I’m sorry.” He backed up, ready to head down the hall.

“Wait, no, Jimin. Don’t go. You just surprised me, I’m not used to visitors coming by unexpectedly.”

Jimin looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere. Jimin and Yoongi had been dating for nearly six months. It was great. Yoongi was always there for him, their dates were fun, and they never ran out of things to talk about. The sex was mind blowing. Sure, they fought a little, but never a big thing. The one oddity in all their time together… Was that Jimin was never invited to sleep over at Yoongi’s. Yoongi had stayed at Jimin’s a few times, and Jimin had come over once or twice, but never for more than a few minutes. 

The last time they were together in person, Jimin had hinted at wanting to stay over at Yoongi’s one night. Yoongi had seemed okay with the idea, but also a bit stiff about it. 

“I should have texted,” Jimin finally said.

“Yes,” Yoongi agreed. “But… You’re here, I can spare a few minutes.” He sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Jimin in. 

“Dark,” Jimin commented as he entered. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He reached out for Yoongi’s head, only to have Yoongi jerk away.

“I’m fine.”

Jimin scowled then, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

Yoongi blinked at him. 

“You’re acting weird. I’ve been with you half a year, I know when you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

“It…” Yoongi’s shoulders sagged. “It’s very hard to explain.”

“Well try. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Literally or figuratively.” Jimin went to flip on a light. 

Yoongi grabbed his wrist. His hand was frigid, and his grip was tight. Jimin gasped. 

“Don’t.” Yoongi’s voice was sharp.

“Wh… What’s going on? You’re kinda starting to scare me.”

“I don’t mean to.” Yoongi let go of Jimin’s wrist.

“Why are you so cold?” Jimin went forward. Yoongi backed away but Jimin ignored him, grabbing his face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Are you sick?”

“Not exactly,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Jimin, please…” Yoongi leaned into his touch, his eyes screwed shut. “Please just go home… I promise, I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“No. You can explain right now, Min Yoongi.” Jimin crossed his arms and stood in front of the door, facing Yoongi. 

“It’s not easy,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin remained silent. He sighed. “Fine. I… I really wanted us to last.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, not liking how this was sounding. Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“I’m a monster.”

“What makes you a monster?” Jimin pressed.

“Fangs? Death? Drinking blood?” Yoongi shrugged. “Any number of things. I mean a literal monster.”

Jimin laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, don’t be silly. Yoongi, what is it really?” He asked. He flicked on the light. Yoongi winced visibly, raising his hand to shield from the indoor light.

Jimin’s entire body went cold. Yoongi was standing in front of him. His Yoongi – lean muscle and a sweet, round face, gentle eyes and guitar callused fingers… But not his Yoongi at the same time. The person in front of him was paler than Yoongi – his face almost grey it was so pale. His eyes were dark. Not just dark, but the pupils seemed to have expanded, filling the whites of his eyes and giving him a demonic gaze. 

Yoongi let his hand fall, his expression timid despite the horror his features implied. 

“You’re not human,” Jimin whispered.

“I’m a monster,” Yoongi agreed. “A vampire… Specifically.” He looked down. “Are you going to run away screaming now?”

“Make me, you troll,” Jimin grumbled. He let his arms fall and took a cautious step forward. 

“I’m a vampire, not a troll.”

Jimin grinned at that, seeing the curve of a smile on Yoongi’s lips. “I’ll get it right eventually… Am I in danger? Standing here like this?”

“No. I have excellent control over my feeding… Why aren’t you scared?” Yoongi looked up, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“I am.”

“You aren’t showing it… Aside from a fast heartbeat… I can’t see any fear on your pretty face. And your heart beats fast around me all the time.”

Jimin smiled. “Flirting isn’t gonna get you out of the doghouse… Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You’re right.” Yoongi snapped his fingers. “I always forget. When is the right date to tell your new boyfriend you died and came back as a bloodsucking creature of the night? That once a week you have to spend a day in a coffin literally dead or you get wildly sick? Isn’t it the third? Or no, the seventh?”

Jimin slapped Yoongi’s shoulder with some force, smirking when he cried out, rubbing it. “Weak for a vampire.”

“I’m immortal, not immune to my boyfriend’s abuse,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Do you drink blood?”

“Of course I do.”

“Human?”

“When I can.”

“From live people?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Mr. Park?”

Jimin glared. “You lied to me for six months, I’m allowed to interrogate you.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I’m frankly just… In amazement that you’re still standing here. And no… Not live humans, not for a very long time. You may proceed with the interrogation – but I insist on us moving out of my hallway and to an actual sitting location.” He pointed to the couch.

“Do you have anything to drink? If I open your fridge… Will I find bags of blood?”

Yoongi made a noise of offense and crossed his arms. “Of course not, I’m not some barbarian. You’ll find a recyclable bottle of that’s filled with blood. But my sodas are in the door.”

Jimin went over to the fridge and opened it. Sure enough, there were three large water bottles filled with a very suspicious reddish liquid. He grabbed a soda from the door and went over to the couch, sitting next to Yoongi.

“How old are you? I’m guessing that twenty-seven was a lie.”

“I was twenty-seven when I died. Thirty-one years ago.”

“Oooh, I bagged myself a silver fox, huh?”

Yoongi huffed once more. “I died at twenty-seven.”

“Mhm… And now you’re fifty-eight.” 

“Jimin, I’m gonna…” 

Jimin giggled. “I guess I shouldn’t tease you… You might bite me… Would you?”

“Bite you? Not unless you asked.”

“Would it turn me into a vampire?”

“No. There’s a very specific ritual for that.”

Jimin nodded. “Cool. So, what does a vampire do? Aside from drinking blood… What’s special about you? I’ve seen you in the day. You complain a whole lot, but you don’t sparkle or ignite like a firework. We’ve taken plenty of pictures together… And you eat way too much garlic. You also sleep at night, and probably too long… And you aren’t any stronger than I am.”

“You’re making me feel real great here, Jimin,” Yoongi joked, smiling as he spoke.

Jimin laughed. “Sorry—I just mean… You seem human. I’ve never… Really assumed anything was off about you.”

“The great thing about humans, is that you all really like to assume everyone is like you. You avoid the things that support the opposite. Inhuman behavior, to some degree, so long as it’s not shocking or jarring, you can brush off as an odd quirk, a funny trait. I’m close to human, yes, but I am not human. I complain in the sun because my skin is sensitive. Bursting into flames is a myth, but I do burn far easier than most humans. My skin’s melanin has decayed over the years without cellular growth.”

“Which is why you’re so pale too.”

Yoongi grunted an affirmative. “Garlic is a myth, as is the no reflection thing. I’m sure hundreds of years ago, maybe? There might have been some truth to it, but modern technology and modern mirrors work different, so I can see myself the same as you. I am stronger than you, but I do well at hiding it most of the time. Any displays of it, you either don’t see, or brush aside. I do also sleep at night, yes – because I’ve put myself on a human schedule. I do this so I can live among you all without problems. Once a week though, I must sleep during the day. Sleeping at night is akin to a human living on a series of short naps at mid-afternoon. It’s not fully restful and it’s dangerous to do long term. I compensate by sleeping through the day one day per week, in the appropriate resting place.”

“R… Resting place?”

“My coffin.”

Jimin’s eyes bulged. “Coffin?”

“Yes, I am dead. I have a coffin.”

“That you sleep in?”

“Once a week. Otherwise, I sleep in the bed.” 

Jimin nodded, his brows furrowed. 

“Gonna run yet?” Yoongi asked.

“No… Is there anything else different?”

“Well… We’re excellent in bed,” Yoongi joked. Jimin glanced up. “I mean it. We have a… Special thing about us. You’ve had sex with other men before me, right?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Haven’t you ever noticed that when we have sex… I’m much—”

“Harder.”

Yoongi nodded. 

Jimin pouted. “I assumed it was because I just really turned you on. It’s because you’re a vampire?”

“Well, no, you really do turn me on... A lot. But a few days after I do my daytime sleep, I get naturally more rigid. I’m not sure why – I think it has something do with… Ah, well it’s gross. But it just happens.”

Jimin sat back, sighing softly. “You’re immortal.”

“Yes.”

“Honestly… I think that’s the thing that bothers me most about this. Not that you’re undead or drink blood or… But that you’re gonna never grow old. And I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered.

“If we work out…” Jimin began. “And stay together… You’ll turn me, right? You’d have to – for us to… Be together.”

“Not necessarily. While I wouldn’t hate the idea of someone’s company in my life… I know that a limited existence is so valued and important. It’s something that I would be willing to discuss… If we work out, and when you are older.”

Jimin nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Yoongi pressed. “That’s it?”

Jimin shrugged. “We all have secrets, Yoongi.”

“I doubt you have a secret as big as this, Jimin.”

“No… But I have one that… People have left for.”

Yoongi seemed to perk up a little at that, his brows furrowed. Despite the difference in his eyes, the sleek black, Jimin found his expression endearing and sweet. 

“I like your eyes like this… Can you change them at will?” He asked.

“No. They’re like this because I’ve not fed for a while. I have to keep myself fed and rested or they shift; they’ll be back to normal after I wake up and drink… What secret could you have that’s so big, Jimin?” 

“Well… I…” Jimin winced. “God, it’s weird as hell, I’m so sorry.”

“I won’t run,” Yoongi promised. “You’re sitting here next to me after finding out I’m a living dead monster. The least I can do is listen to your secret and try to understand.”

Jimin smiled softly at that. He nodded. “I like… Sleep sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I like the idea of… Having sex with someone while they sleep or are unconscious. With their consent! I mean… I’d never… Do something nonconsensual.”

Yoongi remained silent a moment, thinking. “Do you want someone to have sex with you while you sleep? Or do you want to have sex with someone while they sleep?”

“Both, I guess. I like the idea of both. I’ve never done it. Most people stop talking to me after I tell them.”

“Why would they?” Yoongi pressed. “We all have kinks and fantasies.”

“Yeah, but a lot of them see it as a form of rape. And I get it, it’s a super grey area. You can’t change your mind while you’re asleep, so like… If you say it’s okay, and then as you drift off to sleep decide you don’t want it… Then it becomes nonconsent.”

Yoongi nodded in understanding. “Well I think that can be resolved just by open communication,” he said, touching his hand to his chin in thought. “If you trust your partner and they trust you, you two should be able to communicate what is and isn’t okay. I don’t think a kink like this is unsafe or unhealthy, as long as – like you said – it’s done with full consent.”

Jimin smiled cautiously, his heart skipping a beat. “You mean… You don’t find it gross?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi smiled. “I’m glad you shared it with me. I still don’t think it’s worse than me being a blood sucking monster… But I know it’s a secret you hold close, so I appreciate your trust. But… Would you want to try this with me someday?”

“Would I ever?” Jimin asked. He chuckled a little. “I fantasize about it a lot.” 

Yoongi smirked. He moved little closer, pulling Jimin to him. “Would you want to try it today?” He asked softly.

Jimin’s eyes widened. Yoongi continued. “Look… When I sleep… In my coffin. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I am… For all intents and purposes… Dead. I don’t decay, obviously. But my body goes very cold, my lungs and heart go still… And my body stiffens, as a corpse would. That includes… My dick.”

Jimin remained quiet, processing what Yoongi was suggesting. Yoongi slid his hands over Jimin’s shoulders slowly as he spoke. “So, if someone… Say my very curious, very human boyfriend… Happened to get horny while I was sleeping in my coffin… He could climb in and use my body… Ride me… And I’d remain fully unconscious no matter what.”

“Because you’re dead…” Jimin clarified. 

Yoongi nodded. “Temporarily. I wouldn’t wake for anything, unless you shined sunlight on my body. So… If you want to do this…”

“Would you fuck me when you wake?” Jimin said quickly. “If I was sleeping, would you… Return the favor?”

“I wake in the late afternoon usually. You’d likely still be up.”

“Not if I took a sleeping pill,” Jimin suggested. “I have some, I used to get nightmares and they help. I don’t use them often, but I bring them just in case. I could take one after… And you could… Help get rid of your afternoon wood with my body.”

Yoongi shifted visibly on the couch. His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips. Jimin smirked. He leaned forward, sliding his hands up Yoongi’s thighs. “Does that idea sound good? You like it.”

Yoongi nodded. “I do,” he breathed. 

“We can do it today?”

“Yes but… Jimin… You understand what I mean. When I lay in my coffin… You will be looking at the equivalent of a corpse.”

“I understand. But you’re still you. You say you’ll only be still and cold… You won’t be decaying or rotting or anything you associate with a dead body. And you’ll be waking up and… We’ll be together.”

“Of course.”

“Would it turn you on? Knowing I used you while you… Rested?”

Yoongi smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “Frankly? That’s… An incredibly sexy thought. The thought of you climbing into my coffin with me alone is enough to… Well… I’ve thought of it more than once. I never even imagined you’d be willing to… Let alone wanting to… Do more.”

“Should I stay in the coffin with you? After I finish?”

“I’m afraid not.” Yoongi shook his head. “Waking from my rest is a very jarring thing. I fear I might accidentally hurt you. I have a bed in my room next to the coffin, you can sleep there.”

Jimin nodded. “I do want this as long as you do. And I do want you to… Do the same.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin gently. 

“Hey… You’re a vampire… Don’t you have fangs?”

“They retract. When I’m resting they will come out, so don’t kiss me – you could get poked. But when I’m awake I can pull them in and out as needed.”

“Can I see them?” Jimin whispered. 

Yoongi seemed to be thinking about it. He grinned then. His wide, gummy grin suddenly became something much more frightening… And sexier, when Jimin realized his canines had lengthened and transformed into sharp, deadly points. Jimin’s breath left in a rush. 

“Oh wow…”

Yoongi’s smile dropped again to a relaxed expression. “Satisfied?” He asked, his tone slightly breathier with the fangs in the way. 

Jimin nodded. “I think you need to go to bed soon,” he murmured.

Yoongi smirked, one fang peeking out of his lip. “Horny bastard.”

“Not my fault.” Jimin squeezed Yoongi’s thighs. “Should I wait out here?”

“Please. Though it’s not disturbing I do like going to sleep alone. You’re free to come in in about fifteen minutes… I’ll be resting by then. The lube is in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. 

“See you in the evening,” Jimin said. Yoongi rose and leaned forward, pecking Jimin’s mouth gently. 

Fifteen minutes had never been so damn slow. Jimin finished his drink and paced around the apartment, trying to distract from the ticking clock. He took the time to explore Yoongi’s place; he’d never had a chance to before. He had quite a number of interesting trinkets that Jimin wanted to ask about when he woke up. He pulled off his coat and tugged on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, hugging himself in it as Yoongi’s scent drifted into his nostrils from the warm fabric. 

Finally. Fifteen minutes had passed. Jimin entered the bedroom carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the room, even darker than the living room. He found a lamp near a comfy looking bed and flicked it on, looking around. The light was soft, diffused by the heavy shade. In the center of the room was a large, dark coffin. Jimin approached it carefully, his heart in his throat. Inside was Yoongi, looking much paler than usual. He was entirely still, arms resting across his bare belly. He was in his boxers, his cock comically rigid, tenting the front up obscenely. He was stunning. 

Jimin hurried over to the dresser and opened the drawer, finding the lube easily. He shucked his jeans and boxers, crawling onto the bed. He set his sleeping medication on the bedside stand and relaxed into the pillow. It smelled richly of Yoongi’s scent, his cock thickening against his thigh. He moaned softly, stroking himself. He looked over at the coffin, his stomach clenching. This was really happening. He poured some of the lube on his fingers and spread it over his hole, sighing contentedly as he pushed a finger in to prep himself. 

When he was ready, Jimin rose, sliding the lube and his phone into his pocket. He went over to the coffin, taking a moment to gaze down at his beautiful lover. A vampire… He knew he’d likely have a moment of realization down the line – the understanding that this simple confession had flipped his life upside down. But he’d never been one to shy away from the macabre or bizarre, and he always wondered if supernatural creatures existed. Yoongi’s confirmation of that was… Unexpected, but not unwanted. 

Jimin carefully straddled Yoongi’s lap. He knew he couldn’t wake him, but the fear was half the fun. Yoongi was still hard, his position entirely unchanged from the first moment Jimin saw him. Jimin pulled his boxers down just under his balls, smirking when he saw the tip was a deep purple red. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked gently, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Yoongi really was a living dead person. 

A surprising twinge of arousal spiked through Jimin, making him shudder. He wondered if Yoongi could still come in this state. Only one way to find out.

He shifted over, taking the lube from his hoodie with shaking hands and adding some to Yoongi’s cock, and more to his own stretched hole. He moved over and began to settle into Yoongi’s cock, muffling his quiet gasps in his other hand. Yoongi’s cock was so hard it was almost painful. There was none of the give he was used to, forcing his ass open wide to take the tip, and sliding deep into him. He whimpered, shuddering hard when he took his entire length. 

“Yoongi,” he whined softly. Curious, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s pale, cool face. He held his hand by his nose for a moment. Nothing. No movement of air, no shift, nothing. He moaned again, reality slowly sinking in. There was nothing normal or right about this. But God, it felt good. He dropped his hand down, pulling Yoongi’s top lip back. As promised, there they were, sharp fangs, glinting dangerously. Jimin touched one, ever so tempted to prick his finger on it, let Yoongi taste him… But no. Jimin pulled his hand back. That could be discussed at a later time. He settled back on Yoongi’s stiff cock and whimpered. There was no give. He was gonna lose it fast at this rate.

Jimin began to ride him, moaning openly as Yoongi’s cock slid over his prostate. He reached into his hoodie and removed his phone, holding it up. He found his camera app and angled it to show his face first, his cheeks mottled red with arousal. He moaned openly as he pressed record, not bothering to shy away from looking and sounding obscene. 

“Your cock is so hard, Yoongi. You’re gonna break my ass in half, oh!” He shuddered, biting his lip and twisting his hips down. “Fuck, I’ve never had something this hard up my asshole, Yoongi… I’m gonna gape for hours after I’m done with you.”

He whined, his throat clicking as he struggled to swallow. He turned the camera, filming Yoongi’s body before turning it and balancing it behind him, so he could film himself riding Yoongi. He glanced back, smirking when he realized the camera was catching each long stroke, Yoongi’s cock sinking back into his ass. He spread himself and leaned forward, giving more light for the camera. He fucked himself hard and fast onto Yoongi’s cock, moaning and begging for more, not hiding the pleasure he was getting. He reached back and grabbed the phone, holding it up again.

“I’m gonna come, Yoongi,” he whined. “I’m gonna come from using your thick, hard cock, right here in your coffin. Wanna see?”

He turned the camera and lifted the front of the hoodie. His cock was bouncing with each thrust of his body, slapping gently off Yoongi’s still stomach. 

“I’m so glad you slept shirtless,” Jimin panted. “Make me come, Yoongi… Oh God, please… Fuck my ass harder…” He moved faster, whining high in his throat. It shifted to a shout when his cock began to spurt, shooting ropes of come over Yoongi’s hands and belly. He stroked himself, still riding Yoongi’s cock as he milked the last come from himself. He shuddered and giggled, moving the camera behind him as he pulled off Yoongi. He held his ass open, feeling the cool air tickle him far more intimately than it should.

“Look at that gape,” he mumbled. “Too bad it’s not dripping with your come.” He pulled the camera back as he crawled out of the coffin.

“I think I’m gonna leave you like this… Covered in my come, boxers down… Just so you wake up and know what I did to you.” 

He walked back over to the bed in the corner. “Now, Yoongi… I’m gonna leave the lube right there.” He angled the camera to show himself setting it on the nightstand and picking up the sleeping pill. “And I’m gonna take my sleeping medicine.” He angled the camera back to his face to show him swallowing it. 

“Now I’m going to sleep just like this… No shorts… And I would love it, if you want to… To repay the favor and use my ass while I sleep.” He smirked. “I wonder… Is your come as cold your body was when you first come back? You should let me know… I wonder how that feels inside me…” He shook his head. “Sleep well… See you soon.” He ended the video and sent it to Yoongi, forcing himself to stay awake long enough to hear the buzz of Yoongi’s phone in his coffin. He let himself drift off to sleep, dreams full of sexy, arousing thoughts. 

Jimin’s ass was on fire. He moaned softly, opening his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was the coffin. He turned his head, spotting the clock… Nearly seven hours since he’d gone to sleep. 

“Morning Sunshine,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin turned, spotting him at his desk. A cup of deep red liquid sat next to him as he worked on something. “How’s your ass?”

“Sore,” Jimin mumbled, reaching back. He was met with a gush of body temperature fluids, pouring from his gaped hole. He whined. “Fuck…” His cock throbbed against the mattress. “What did you do?”

“Me? I simply did as you asked in your video… Very sexy, by the way. Would you like to watch?”

Jimin rolled over, groaning weakly. His cock was hard despite the pain in his ass. It was perfect. “Show me,” he whispered.

Yoongi rose and grabbed his phone. He went over to the bed and sat on it with Jimin, passing him the device. 

Yoongi did far less teasing and talking in his video. He set up the phone at an angle on the nightstand, allowing it to capture most of Jimin’s sleeping body. Yoongi slicked his cock, looking into the camera as he sank into Jimin with a moan. He began to thrust into him quickly, holding Jimin’s ass open as he did. He maintained looking at the camera most of the time, his eyes the same black they were when he went to sleep.

As Jimin watched himself get used on the phone, Yoongi pulled him onto his lap. He’d withdrawn his cock, Jimin could feel. He hissed and whined softly when Yoongi dragged him over and slid back into his come lubed hole.

“It’s sore,” he whined.

“You can get off then, I don’t mind,” Yoongi said, letting his hips go. Jimin smirked. He shifted to get a better angle to watch the video and began to bounce lazily on Yoongi’s cock.

On the video, Yoongi had picked up speed, grunting as he fucked Jimin’s sleeping body. He tossed his head back, shouting and baring his teeth.

Jimin moaned, catching sight of Yoongi’s fangs. He touched his own neck, a little disappointed at the lack of bite marks. Yoongi on video shuddered, his hips going still. He leaned forward, kissing Jimin’s shoulder.

“There’s my first load, Jimin. It was as cold as ice… I’ve never felt your hole squeeze me so tight. Next time I’ll do it when you’re awake… I bet you’ll squeal so pretty when it fills you…” 

Jimin moaned, leaning back against Yoongi. “I wanna feel,” he confessed.

“I’ll make sure you’re awake next time,” Yoongi promised. “Wanna see the rest?”

Jimin nodded, riding Yoongi a little faster.

On video, Yoongi picked up the pace, fucking Jimin’s ass harder than before. He used him for nearly forty minutes, filling his hole three times. Finally, he sagged his shoulders, kissing over Jimin’s back. 

“You’re so fucking sloppy, baby,” he grumbled. He grabbed the phone and angled it down. Jimin’s ass was red, his hole swollen around Yoongi’s cock. He pulled out slowly and come bubbled out, obscene sounds filling the air. Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll leave you like this. When you wake up I’ll give you one more, if you want it.”

The video went black. Jimin leaned forward, his ass aching at the new angle. “I want it,” he whispered.

Yoongi shifted, pulling out only long enough to get onto his knees. He sank back into Jimin’s  already filled ass, and they both moaned at the sloppy noises. Jimin leaned up, wrapping his arms back around Yoongi.

“Bite me when you come,” he whispered.

“You sure?” Yoongi was fucking him hard, his cock twitching.

“Yes,” Jimin promised. He reached down, stroking his cock in time with Yoongi’s thrusts. 

Yoongi was huffing erratically, holding tight to his middle. His fangs grazed Jimin’s shoulder. 

“Are you mine?” Yoongi panted in his ear.

“Yes—“

“Give yourself to me.” Yoongi grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off his cock. “All the way. Are you mine, Jimin?”

“Yes, yes!” Jimin moaned. 

“I’m yours as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He slammed his cock deep. It began to throb, spilling inside Jimin. At the same time, Jimin felt a sharp pain and then a pressure on his shoulder. Pure pleasure washed over him. His cock began to spurt ropes of come, jerking hard enough to make them land on the floor in front of him. He shouted Yoongi’s name, reaching back and holding his neck as Yoongi drank from him. 

The two collapsed on the bed as their orgasms faded. Yoongi kissed and licked at the wound on Jimin’s shoulder until the blood clotted, sliding his softening cock carefully from Jimin’s aching ass.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, nudging Jimin’s shoulder with his nose as they cuddled back to chest on the bed.

“I’m great,” Jimin whispered.

“No regrets? Still okay with it?”

“Fully… You?”

“It was so exciting,” Yoongi admitted. “When I woke and felt your come on me… And then saw you sleeping… And that video was stunning. You were so beautiful.”

Jimin smiled shyly. “We’ll have to go easy the next few nights… I’m really sore.”

“Of course. I’ll be gentle for a while, let you heal up.” Yoongi kissed over his shoulder. “Did the bite hurt?”

“No. It felt good… How often can you drink from me?”

“I’d prefer not to often. Living human blood, not bagged, it’s… Very rich and sweet, almost like candy. It can become addictive. I’m honored you let me, but I’ll save it as a treat for myself, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” Jimin turned as well as he could. His gaze searched Yoongi’s face, finally dropping down to his mouth, lips pink and cheeks mottled. “It was so interesting. Seeing you in your coffin.”

“I know it can be frightening.”

“No…” Jimin shook his head. “I think it sank in… That I was looking at someone who wasn’t alive. But knowing you’d be awake soon after, it was… This bizarre sort of… Taboo but sexy thing? I’m a freak, aren’t I?” Jimin’s shoulders sagged. 

“No more than I.” Yoongi nudged him again. “We can be freaks together.”

Jimin grinned. “Yoongi?” He said softly.

“Hm?”

“I feel gross.”

“Because of what we did?”

“No, silly.” Jimin laughed. “Because your come is gluing my ass and legs together. I need a shower.”

Yoongi laughed brightly, nodding. “Agreed. Let’s get one... It’s almost dinner, you’re probably starved.”

“You aren’t,” Jimin teased, rising slowly. “No, but I could eat. I’ll take you out after the shower.”

They walked together to the bathroom. “How does eating human food work with being a vampire?”

“Same as it works being alive,” Yoongi said, turning on the water. “It’s just empty calories for me – Which is why I never eat much.”

“There’s so much I feel like I have to learn about what you are… How life is for you.” Jimin crossed his arms as he waited for the water to warm. Yoongi straightened up and wrapped his arms around him. Now that Jimin was aware, he could feel that Yoongi was a few degrees cooler, his skin just a bit paler than human. 

“You can ask anything you need. We have time, and I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

“Yoongi…” Jimin leaned against him, hugging him tightly. He could hear Yoongi’s heart, glugging along at a lethargic pace. He smiled softly. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Hm?” Yoongi asked, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” Jimin whispered. 

Yoongi went still, his heart skipping a little faster. “Jimin… Say that again,” he said.

“I… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Jimin could feel Yoongi’s lips curve up into a smile against his shoulder. “In nearly sixty years of existence… I have never heard more beautiful words,” Yoongi admitted. “I love you too, Jimin… I feel like I’ll love you forever.”

Jimin pulled back, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. His eyes were back to their normal soft brown. He smiled. “Coming from someone who is immortal… That’s the most beautiful thing I could hear.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin deeply. He pulled him close, and Jimin melted into the touch. Yoongi may have cold skin, may drink blood and die once a week – but Jimin had never felt safer or warmer than he did at that very moment in Yoongi’s arms. 

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part I

Just an idea I had after reading an awesome story by @waiting4inspiration

Notes: I never finished Skyrim. Also, many things I’ve written here are based on The Witcher 3 game, since the lore of the Series is not covering everything. Also, also, this story is inspired by a headcanon of mine about the Dragonborn. I will elaborate further in the next part :)

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 5785

Taglist: @yes-captainstark​ @stuckupstucky​

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part II

_______

He definitely had to rethink his decisions when it came to helping villagers.

Geralt usually never hunted monsters that weren't on the information boards in towns, but when he heard the rumors in the tavern and the worried glances from every villager, he made an exception—something he regretted now.

He wanted Jaskier to stay at the tavern, but the bard was stubborn and just tagged along into the forest.

"Don't worry, Geralt. I won't get in your way."

The witcher didn't say it out loud, but that wasn't exactly why he wanted him to stay behind. Hunts with unknown monsters were dangerous even for an experienced monster slayer like him.

The Butcher of Blaviken couldn't prepare his silver sword with special oils since he didn't know what he would encounter. But from the rumors he had heard, the monster seemed to be a draconide, so Geralt used some strengthening potion on himself.

He didn't find any other clues, and the whole search for information hadn't helped at all. So he decided to just go for it. He would probably regret it later, but when did he not?

And now here they were. In the middle of a dark forest. It was almost nighttime, and Geralt and Jaskier hadn't found shit.

The witcher had left his horse in the stable of the village's tavern because the forest was close, and he didn't want Roach to get hurt in case the draconide wanted her as food.

So they had to carry everything by themselves. Thankfully, Jaskier insisted on taking their sleeping blankets and food rations.

"You know this could be a great opportunity for a new song. An unknown monster to slay, a dark and eerie forest, the Butcher of Blaviken..."

The bard appeared to be as lively as ever, Geralt on the other hand couldn't share his excitement. In fact, every muscle in his body was tense, and he concentrated hard on his hearing. The forest was whispering, and he heard a twig snap in front of them.

"...be something along the lines of Slay-"

"Shhhh."

The bard's expression changed, and he stopped talking immediately. The witcher unsheathed his sword and listened intensely. 

There it was again. A shuffle in the bushes, the crunch of fallen leaves. A presence coming towards them. His shoulders tightened, ready to attack when the bushes parted, and a man tumbled before their feet.

"Oh, greetings, strangers."

Jaskier just stared at the newcomer while Geralt pointed his sword at his neck. The man was wearing the strangest armor he had ever seen. It was black with blood-red features and had pointy shoulder pauldrons. 

It gave the man an intimidating aura, and the large scars in his face didn't help. But the way he greeted them and how he awkwardly scratched his head in uncertainty, made him look less dangerous. Oh, and the fact that his sword was sheathed. 

"Wha-what an odd turn of events," commented Jaskier, who tried to hide the fact that his legs almost gave out when the stranger had appeared before them. 

Geralt studied the man with a strange feeling in his chest. He could sense it. Something was strange about him. Maybe it was his accent, or the foreign armor, or how he looked completely calm when a blade was pointed at his throat. 

"Do you not know what lurks in this forest at night?" 

His tone was harsh, the stranger slightly agitated him, although the witcher didn't know why. The other just watched him for a few seconds, his e/c eyes scanning him. A shiver ran down Geralt's spine. 

"I'm hunting." 

Jaskier seemed to feel the strange atmosphere between the two because he said with a light undertone: 

"Well, we do too."

The witcher gave him an angry look, but the bard looked purposely in another direction to avoid his disapproving eyes. The stranger's expression turned somber when he heard these words, and Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, this fellow was definitely strange. 

"I assume you're a witcher?"

His voice was missing any disgust or contempt which surprised him. Geralt didn't respond, but he didn't have to because Jaskier, the babbler, took the word, as always. 

"Yes! He is Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. And I am his humble friend, Jaskier, who tells the world his noble deeds. And who are you?"

The stranger seemed stunned by Jaskier's cheerful behavior, but then he returned the smile and bowed a little. It looked weird with his intimidating armor. Geralt squinted his eyes. Was this man a fool? His adam's apple almost touched his sword now.

"Call me Y/N. I do not have a last name, but I come from Keizaal, a faraway land. And I’ve been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here."

Keizaal? The witcher had never heard of it before, and it disturbed him. All the studying he had to do when he was younger, but the homeland of this person was unknown to him. 

Geralt examined the man closer. For someone who apparently stayed in the forest for a long time, he looked a little too clean. But maybe people from Keizaal had a different washing methods. His thoughts trailed off.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," replied Jaskier and bowed in return, he gave Geralt a look and the witcher only hummed, although lowering his sword. 

"What are you hunting if I may ask?" requested the h/c haired man while he absently watched how the moon appeared in the sky over the tree line. It was fully night now, and Jaskier unconsciously took a step closer to Geralt. The witcher had no problems seeing in the dark, and the stranger didn't appear to either. 

"None of your concern." 

Once again, he gave the man the cold shoulder, but Y/N ignored it. He only raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly. Surprisingly, it made Geralt's blood boil. That bastard's presence was bothersome.

"It looks like we need to part ways again, but it was a pleasant surprise to meet the witcher everyone is talking about." 

He tensed at the mocking undertone. 

What was that supposed to mea-

A scream disrupted the three of them, and both Geralt and Y/N turned around to see from where the sound came from. 

"Jaskier," grunted the witcher, and the bard stepped behind him. 

"The Nightwraith," murmured the foreigner, and his head whipped around to him. 

"How do you know that?"

Geralt's voice was sharp and menacing, but Y/N didn't respond, he unsheathed his sword and swung it in his hand with practiced ease. His defensive stance screamed mighty warrior, and a shiver once again ran down Geralt's spine. 

What is this strange feeling? 

He could hear Jaskier's heart pounding fast with the help of his increased hearing. The foreigner's heartbeat, on the other hand, was calm and steady as ever. 

"It might be best if you protect your companion."

These words were the last ones of the stranger before he disappeared through the bushes.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Geralt, but Y/N was already gone. 

-

The man ran until he confirmed that the distance between him and the two others was big enough. He clenched his hand and concentrated on his Magicka. The spell for detecting any undead engulfed his eyes, and he saw the Nightwraith 30 meters in front of him. The ghost looked straight at him and once again screamed like bloody murder. 

"What a shame that the ghosts here cannot be captured in soul gems..." 

Y/N grimaced and decided to attack first. As long as the spell was activated, he was able see the monster even when she was in her ethereal form. It would decrease her chance of escaping and attacking the witcher and the bard. So he decided to charge. 

"WULD NAH KEST"

A whipping sound erupted, and a familiar feeling washed over him as he dashed towards the Nightwraith with inhumane speed. The creature screeched in surprise and pain as soon as his enchanted ebony sword hit her. He understood the confusion of the ghost, his weapon was not from this world, and neither was he. That's why he was able to harm her even when she was in immaterial form. 

He had fought against thousands of monsters, slew giants, trolls, werewolves, and even daedras. And obviously dragons. A mere ghost like the Nightwraith was nothing for him. 

He slashed the monster's gown, and the cloth sizzled and turned to ash when the ebony touched it. 

She tried to fight back, raised her clawed hand in an attempt to attack his head, which was the only part of Y/N's body that wasn't covered by his armor, but her claws didn't connect. His sword impaled her rotten body, and a howl full of agony erupted from her mouth. 

A tremor in her body and the lack of physical resistance to his sword showed him that she was about to split into three copies of herself, but he wouldn't let her do that. The man shifted, ignoring how her body disappeared and then turned around to face her petty trick.

A fiery heat crept up his throat, and the ground shook slightly when he shouted:

"YOL TOOR SHUL"

The copies that appeared behind him got engulfed in green flames and turned to dust. With a twirl of his hand, Y/N rammed his sword inside the original Nightwraith's skull, who emerged from the left. 

A wail escaped from the monster's lips when her body too exploded in green flames and vanished. 

The man's legs buckled under him, and he had to use his sword as support not to fall. 

Using two shouts so quickly after another had always weakened him. Even when his body began to adapt to his soul. Slowly he sat down on the moss-covered ground and took a deep breath. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave and he huffed.

Maybe they had heard the Nightwraith's dying scream because he could listen to fast footsteps approaching him. He only glanced into their direction, and when he saw that the witcher and the bard looked unscathed, he sighed in relief.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Geralt of Rivia was fuming, he could smell it, and his voice clearly gave it away. 

"I was trained to kill monsters; I am a witcher! Did you believe a mere human could kill a Nightwraith?! Be happy you didn't find it. It would have torn you to shreds!"

When he heard the insult, his eyes twitched, and he closed them. It wasn't a good idea to show them to the angry witcher at the moment. 

After so many years with his dragon soul, which prolonged his life, his body began to go through chances. His pupils turning to slits when he was agitated was one example.

The fact that the bard had watched the white-haired man with a surprised expression showed him that he wouldn't normally react this strongly. Y/N shifted, and the clinking of his armor drowned out his scornful snort. 

"Well, I am quite happy because I was indeed able to kill her."

He didn't see the witcher's expression, but the silence said enough. The corner of his lips twitched, and when his eyes stopped hurting slightly, he opened them again and stared into Geralt's yellow ones. 

"But I'm exhausted now. I don't think I can stand up and return to my hut."

Jaskier exhaled through his nose and muttered: "with this armor, no wonder." The bard turned to face his companion, and they held a short silent conversation before he set down his lute next to Y/N and said with a lively voice: 

"Well, since it's already night, let's camp here together."

"NO!" yelled both of the armed men at the same time. Geralt glared at him, and the other returned it with a scowl.

Jaskier eyed his partner suspiciously and then turned to the h/c haired man who's intense stare made him unconsciously lick his lips. Oh, he saw what this was.

"Come on. We cannot leave Y/N alone out here if he isn’t even able to stand up. We will light a fire and give you some of our food." 

In the end, they both complied even though not without grunting and murmuring curses under their breath. Geralt lit the branches he gathered while Y/N peeled off his armor with skillful efficiency. His clothes underneath looked elegant, but they were dirty and had brown stains, which most likely were blood. 

Jaskier prepared some bread and cheese that they had taken from the tavern back at the village and then sat on his sleeping blanket. The witcher watched as the foreigner and the bard started a conversation.

"How far away is Keizaal? I never heard of it."

The man took some time before he replied.

"I had to cross the ocean for a year to get to you."

"A year?! Mercy! Did you hear that, Geralt?"

He only grunted. Skellige was already so far away, how many miles had the man traveled to get here? That fact impressed him a little, but he didn't show it and just continued stacking the branches he collected.

"You look skilled with the sword..." 

Y/N looked at his strange weapon, and Geralt couldn't help himself to listen carefully when the other began to talk about his life.

"From where I come from, men have no choice but to learn how to fight. There was a civil war when I first came to Keizaal, or Skyrim how the natives call it. I had to pick sides, and many people relied on me. Fights with monsters like the Nightwraith", he pointed to the heap of dust a few meters away from their camp, "happened daily. Your continent and Redania is similar to Keizaal in that matter. You can die anytime. If you're not careful."

The man had a longing in his voice when he spoke of his homeland, and his silhouette looked lonely. Then he laughed, but it sounded bitter.

"Oh, but there's one difference to your land. We had dragons."

Geralt stood up and turned to face the man. 

"We have dragons too."

Y/N shook his head and dismissed the comment with his hand.

"I mean real dragons, not your pathetic lindworms. The first time I met one, fire rained down on earth, and a whole town was burned to ashes. Keizaal was in the claws of terror for years. His name was Alduin, the World Eater."

Jaskier's jaw dropped, and he grabbed his lute. 

"Tell me more! I get inspiration from stories!"

The h/c haired man shifted to sit more comfortably and then started to tell the story of the most significant threat Keizaal had ever faced.

-

"...and that's how the Dragonborn slew Alduin and returned to Keizaal." 

Jaskier's eyes were beaming, and his face showed a slightly scary expression, but Geralt knew that the bard just imagined all the things the warrior had told them.

"And then? What happened to him? I mean, you should know, you said you were his friend."

Y/N grimaced and let his rough fingers travel across his blade. He looked like he didn't want to talk about it, but in the end, the man sighed and just said:

"His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah. His humanity was gone, and only a violent beast stayed. His other companions and I had to kill him."

Geralt noticed the pain in his eyes, and he felt bad for the man who had lost his best friend. Y/N lifted his head and realized that the witcher was looking at him. He turned away in slight embarrassment.

"We should sleep now. I will stay on watch first."

The Butcher of Blaviken only nodded, and Jaskier sighed. 

"Then, I will take the next shift." 

He didn't like taking the last shift, but Geralt didn't say anything and just laid down on his blanket, facing away from the two others. 

Dovahkiin. It really sounded strange. The fact that there was a place out there so different from everything he had ever known... It intrigued Geralt. Y/N seemed to have been bound to fate, too, at least in a way. 

He regretted yelling at the man, but at that time, he had really believed that he was just some fool who tried to boast about his skills. But Y/N had indeed killed the Nightwraith. Geralt had seen the remains. 

He looked at the shadow of the foreigner that danced on the trunk of a tree close to him. Since he wasn't wearing his intimidating armor anymore, he just looked like a normal man, who had seen too many people die and fought against too many demons. 

Just like me. 

He felt a strange bond between himself and Y/N, and he decided to try and be a little friendlier tomorrow. 

He closed his eyes, and the only thing he heard before he fell asleep was the steady breaths of Jaskier, the man humming and the fire's crackle.

.

Hands touched his shoulders. They were rough and big. Geralt shivered when they traveled across his back and all the scars he had received from his life as a witcher. "What are you doing?" he asked when he could feel a breath on his neck. "We are the same," replied a deep voice, and it sounded raspy. He wanted to turn around, but somehow he couldn't. "The same?" He stopped short when a warm body pressed against his back. The person snaked their arms around his torso and touched his chest. Geralt felt heat creeping up his body. Laying in the arms of this person, he felt safe but also slightly uneasy. His heart skipped a beat when two lips touched his neck. They were rough, but the kiss felt like a feather. The other person's breath tickled his skin, and he shivered, although it was pleasant. "Both of us are monsters." The hands on his chest suddenly began to claw into his skin and ripped deep wounds into his flesh. He began to scream.

"..ralt, Geralt! Wake up!"

He jolted awake and found himself staring into Jaskier's worried face.

He grunted "what's going on?" his voice deep from sleeping, and the bard bit his lip. 

"Y/N went to take a piss, but he hasn't returned, and I heard a roar, a thunderous roar."

Geralt sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand. His forehead was damp from sweating so much, and he cursed the person of his dream. 

"He didn't run away?" 

Jaskier shook his head and pointed to the armor next to the warrior's blanket.

"He woke me up for my shift and then said he would be right back. He wasn't even wearing his boots." 

He didn't miss the worried undertone of his friend, and Geralt sighed deeply.

"I'll go look for him. Stay here. Don't let the fire die out and call out to me if something approaches the camp!"

The bard was definitely not happy with being left behind, but he knew that was better for all of them. He wasn't much of a help, not when it came to killing monsters. And the thing he had heard out there was definitely one.

Geralt took both of his swords and sheathed the one made out of steel. With the silver sword in his hand, he began to walk into the direction Jaskier had pointed to. 

He saw the footsteps on the ground, leaving a trail of dark spots on the dewy moss. He followed them, and they led quite far away from their camp to a tree from where he could smell the stench of piss. He wrinkled his nose and searched for other tracks, but there weren't any. 

"What in the worl-"

He was still able to turn his head around, but he couldn't avoid a black thing that slammed into him at full speed. 

The witcher was sent flying, and when he crashed on the ground, it took his breath away and caused his vision to turn black for a few seconds. A roar shook the earth and the trees as if there were an earthquake and a storm at the same time. His ears rang and he lost focus for a second.

A shadow cast over him and Geralt's blood froze when he saw two rows of gigantic sharp teeth with a blurry vision. An orange glow appeared, and he could feel the heat radiating. He threw himself to the side; any second later, he would have been turned into roasted meat. 

His instincts told him to run, and he did. Shameful, but a witcher knew when his opponent was too strong. He still couldn't see properly, his head was ringing painfully, and his ribs and chest felt like they would explode, but fear carried him forward. 

Thundering footsteps could be heard behind him, and a roar erupted again from the beast's throat that pursued him. It shook him to the core, and he was sure that this was the monster the villagers had talked about. The beast was growling, and he paused mentally. Did this thing just say something?

Geralt took a step forward, but there was no ground underneath his foot, and he tumbled down a steep hill. Stones dug into his back, branches tore his undershirt, and his head hit a bolder. It felt like his energy was sucked away. Everything turned black.

-

"I found him!"

Y/N informed Jaskier and rushed down the small hill into the dry riverbed where an unconscious witcher laid. He knelt and checked Geralt's pulse. It was slow and slightly weak but there. He searched with his hands for any severe wounds, but besides the nasty gash on his temple, he was fine. Or that's all he could see for now. 

He pushed the shirt of the Butcher of Blaviken up and touched his torso. He was correct. There were some bruises right over his ribs. Fortunately, nothing seemed broken. He pushed and felt around some more until he heard a cough, and he stiffened.

"What.. uhm, what are you doing?"

The bard's voice sounded suspiciously like he was grinning, and Y/N clenched his teeth in annoyance. 

"He bruised his ribs. It will probably hurt for a while. We should take care of his temple wound."

Jaskier whistled, which caused him to furrow his eyes, but he didn't say anything; instead, he stood up and roughly grabbed the witcher and threw him with ease over his shoulder. Y/N turned and left the bard standing there with a gaping mouth. What a hassle. 

It had been strange. When the man had woken up six hours ago, he had laid somewhere in the forest, his enchanted shirt torn at the back, and his hands and feet were dirty. His fingernails were stained black because of the earth under them, and he had a raspy throat. He had no memory of what had happened. 

The sky was still dark, and next to Y/N laid a fallen tree that looked like it had been broken in the middle with force. Wood splinters surrounded him. 

He had used one of his spells to find the way back to the camp, where he found Jaskier alone and scared shitless.

"You're alive!" was his greeting. 

The bard told him how Geralt went looking for him, and breathlessly explained that he hadn't come back. He thought the warrior from Keizaal had died. 

Y/N luckily didn't, and they decided to look for the witcher in the morning. Or he decided, Jaskier was firmly against it, but when he taunted the bard to search by himself, he gave in quietly. He knew that it was safer for both of them. 

While he waited with sweaty hands, Y/N realized something and discreetly changed his torn shirt. He also wondered how his enchanted clothes could be damaged to such extremity.

When the sun rose, they had begun searching, which led up to now.

.

"Isn't he heavy?" 

Jaskier's question made him chuckle. 

"Try lifting my armor. If you're not strong in Keizaal, you'll die before you can hear the end of the Dragonborn song."

The bard suddenly grabbed his arm, and Y/N stopped walking. Jaskier's eyes were wide, and his face had a pleading look when he practically yelled:

"A song? Sing it to me, please!"

He blinked slowly. When was the last time someone asked him to do that? Was it 50, no 80 years ago? He didn't remember. 

The ring on the necklace he wore around his neck seemed to burn his skin, and a pair of eyes flashed before him. It had been so many years, and his heart still hadn't let him go. 

"I can't sing well... But if you really want me to..."

The smaller man nodded profusely. 

"Yes! Absolutely. Please."

Y/N needed a moment to translate the text and remember the tune, then be began:

"Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you

The Dragonborn comes..."

-

Geralt woke up 2 hours later. His head was still pounding, and his ribs also hurt, which was strange. Did his healing abilities not work? And where was his undershirt? Why was his head bandaged? He looked at the crowns of the trees and pondered for a moment. What happened?

"You’re awake?"

He turned his head and stared into the e/c eyes of the foreign warrior. His hair fell into his face, and Geralt thought that the scars in Y/N's face must have really hurt. Somehow he was relieved that the man was alive.

"What happened to the monster?"

Y/N furrowed his brows. He didn't seem to know what he was talking about. Slowly he sat up, and a groan escaped his lips when his chest protested.

"You should be careful, nothing's broken, but bruises can hurt anyway."

Geralt scoffed. "I had to endure worse things." 

Then he paused. That's not what he wanted to say. Didn't he decide to be friendlier? 

The warrior didn't reply, but his shoulders stiffened, and he realized that he might really be a little too unfriendly. But he was a man anyway, so why did it even matter? Maybe he got a concussion after that fall.

"Did you find me?" 

He changed the topic, and when Y/N nodded, he looked away and hummed.

"Thank you."

He only received a pat on the back, and Geralt's heart skipped a beat. The man's hand felt like the one's from his dream. Was he thinking about Y/- 

What a stupid thought. The witcher shifted and turned to face the fire where Jaskier sat and roasted a rabbit. 

"Oh my, I had thought it before, but seeing you now... you look like shit if I'm allowed to say." 

You already did.

"Well, you try and get chased by a fire-spitting beast."

The bard paused and exchanged a look with Y/N. He wondered when they got so close. Could people consider this to be close? Exchanging knowing looks? Geralt had no idea. He didn't even know why that mattered. Maybe he had really hit his head a little too hard.

"So that's what happened? You ran away?"

Jaskier was as considerate as ever. He clenched his jaw and then relaxed. Might as well tell the truth.

"Yes... I think that thing is completely different from anything I've ever hunted before. I wasn't able to see it properly, but it spitted fire and walked on two legs. The latter would suggest a wyvern, but the fire doesn't, and another thing was strange... I think it spoke? It said Gaan Vah Haas or something like that."

Y/N suddenly coughed. Both their heads turned to the h/c haired man.

"Gaan Lah Haas? Are you sure?!"

Geralt nodded, and the eyes of the man suddenly beamed. He blinked. The way the man's eyes turned into crescents had something... captivating. 

His brain sputtered. He could only nod some more, his mind too focused on the strange thoughts.

"Do you perhaps know something about this beast?"

Jaskier continued to turn the rabbit over the fire, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was silent for a while before answering.

"Truth be told, I only came here because I was searching for someone from Keizaal. He disappeared, and I was put in charge of bringing him back."

This new information made him regain focus.

"Are you implying the thing that chased me and tormented the villagers is the one you're looking for? It may have had two legs, but it definitely wasn't human."

The man shook his head and pulled a satchel out of nowhere. He put his hand inside, and Jaskier's eyes almost popped out when his arm entirely disappeared as if the satchel was much bigger than it looked. He retracted his hand and conjured a red scale. It was gigantic.

"This..." began Y/N, and his eyes held a look of melancholy, "is one of his scales. He's a dragon. Like Alduin."

The bard was still in shock about the magic satchel, while Geralt studied the scale from afar. It had a vibrating red color and beautiful iridescence. When the beast had chased him, he didn't see exactly what color it had, but if it’s scales were such a vibrant color, he would have surely noticed, right?

"A dragon from Keizaal?"

He received a nod.

"And you have to bring it back?"

"His name is Odahviing, and he's harmless. Also, yes, I have to bring him back."

"The thing out there definitely tried to kill me, I don't know about you, but that doesn't look harmless to me."

Y/N's expression turned dark. 

"He's mostly harmless. But that's why I have to bring him back."

-

Truthfully, he was spouting horseshit.

All the things he had said up to this point, about his life in Keizaal, his journey, all were lies. He didn't travel a year to get to this continent, or more like this world. He walked through a goddamn portal and arrived in the middle of some forest he had never seen before. 

Had he not met a kind but old soul who took him in and helped him, Y/N would have probably gone crazy. Or maybe he already did. After all these years, he wasn't so sure if that wasn't already the case. 

Furthermore, he wasn't the Dragonborn's companion, no, he was him. 

Or had been. He wasn't anymore. 

After all, Alduin's death was 130 years ago, and everyone who knew his real story was already dead. Only his friends from the Mer side had remained. And Paarthurnax and also Odahviing. 

Using his friend's name felt like a betrayal. But he couldn't really explain the portal thing without telling Geralt and Jaskier that he was the Archmage of Winterhold and he already said that the Dragonborn held that title, so... 

That was also why he didn’t heal the wound of the other man although he really wanted to. He somehow couldn’t bear the thought of the witcher hurting.

Y/N used his friend as an excuse to not hurt the dragon. 

He decided to spin a story around it.

Well, it was only half a lie. The thing that attacked the Butcher of Blaviken appeared to be a dragon from his world. The shout that Geralt had heard and obviously also had to endure was proof enough. 

It was the Thu'um with which a dragon could drain the vitality of their prey. If Y/N had to guess, that was why they had to bandage his head wound and why the witcher's healing abilities weren't working for the time being. Besides the fact that the shout was otherworldly magic.

But what he didn't know was how a dovah from Keizaal could come to this world. The portal he walked through had appeared in the middle of the woods, but he had slain all the dragons after Alduin's death, so it didn't make sense. 

Well, he would probably find out the truth in the next few days. And when he found the dragon, he would just ask them. They would probably also be the key for him to return home. 

Y/N slightly paused. Did he even want to go back to Keizaal? 

Most of his friends had already left for Sovngarde, and the ones who remained had been troubled by the personality changes he had gone through after his lover’s death. 

Would they be happy if he returned? 

Maybe I should stay... There's so much to learn about this continent and its inhabitants.

His eyes traveled to the witcher.

He would think about this later. The most important thing right now was to capture the dovah so that they could interrogate them.

"My job is usually to kill monsters. Not capture them."

The white-haired man pulled him out of his thoughts. 

Y/N searched his eyes, and his heart stung a little when he realized once more how similar Geralt's yellow eyes were to Farkas's when he had turned into a werewolf. It devastated him but also drew him to the witcher. 

Geralt was grumpy. Just like his love had been often. Talos, his heart...

"If I plead, will you not kill him? Or do I have to toss you a coin?"

The remark made Jaskier beam, and he grinned a little. 

The bard was the complete opposite of the witcher. Maybe that was the reason why they were friends. Although it did look like the brown-haired man would just hang onto the other if he wanted to or not.

"You know the song?"

"Of course I do, there's not one tavern where I haven't heard it." 

"You do not have to plead nor give me money. As long as that... as long as he stops terrorizing the villagers, I'll try not to kill him."

Geralt's voice sounded once again harsh, but Y/N could feel his sincere feelings, and he smiled at him. 

"Thank you."

A silence fell over them, and Y/N was pleasantly surprised when the witcher returned his smile with a small but existing one. His heart skipped a beat, but he ignored it. 

The atmosphere around them was peaceful for the first time they had met, but Jaskier interrupted it:

"So am I correct when I say that you just teamed up to capture this Odahviing? Oh, heavens, I just received your inspiration for a new song!"

While he grabbed his lute and began to mutter things along the lines of "Two warriors so great" and "Once upon a time, two monster hunters met and became friends," Geralt and Y/N exchanged a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

Maybe they would indeed become friends.

________

Wuld Nah Kest = Whirlwind Sprint (A shout that grants the ability to dash rapidly forward.)

Yol Toor Shul = Fire Breath (A shout that allows one to breathe a forceful blast of fire.)

Part II

[maddiepants]

Just a Daydream

Summary - Sam has a naughty daydream.

A/N - Decided since i’ve been gone for too long, that maybe i’d post a thing for Sam Winchester’s birthday. This has been sitting around for a bit and even though it’s been read over by a few people, i still take all responsibility if it’s complete crap.

Sam x reader

 Warnings - low body image, sexy daydream times, throat fucking, size kink?

Word Count - 1,095

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God damn it," I mumble for what must be the third time in less than five minutes.

 Why do I have to be so short?

 All I want is one fucking lore book, and, of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Sam just has to put them in some kind of weird chronological order.

 Why does he have to be so tall and shit?

 I’m even standing on a stool!

 I sigh heavily and admit defeat, deciding to wait until the boys come back to get the book for me.

 Looking down at my body, I scoff in disgust.

 I’m short, no taller than 5'1”, and shapeless. Last time I weighed myself I was barely tipping the scale at a hundred. No ass, no boobs - I feel ridiculous. I tried everything to gain weight. I tried the gym, protein shakes, eating nothing but greasy burgers and fried food like Dean, but still nothing.

 Men like meat, and I’m nothing but bones and had been told as much from multiple ex-boyfriends and even some of my friends.

 Heavy footsteps from down the hall pull me out of my self-deprecation, reminding me what I’m here for.

 "Hey, smalls,” he says. “What’re ya up to?"

 Sam.

 Tall, virile, muscular - all man.

 "Hey, Sam," I say on a sigh.

 "What's wrong?" he asks.

 Ever the concerned friend. Emphasis on friend.

 Standing up, I gesture toward the books. "I was trying to reach the lore book I needed, but it’s all the way up there. Even standing on a stool, I can’t reach."

 ~~~Sam's POV~~~

 Chuckling, I walk toward you, reach up over your head and grab the book you need.

 I look down at you as you look up at me, and time seems to freeze.

 You are short. So short. And skinny. Tiny really, in every aspect. I have always found you attractive - beautiful, sweet smelling hair, big round eyes that are so full of expression, not too mention a kick ass personality. You can always make me laugh.

But the thing that got me the most? That compact little body. I know I can lift you, done it many times on hunts.

I've had my hands around your waist and they almost touch, and when you're standing without shoes on, you're literally eye level with my chest.

 I wonder if you could take me. I'm not a small guy - rather large, in fact, and everything on my body is in proportion.

 Looking down at you now, damn, makes me wonder if my dick wouldn't just split you open.

 If I had it my way, I'd tear your clothes from your body and take those perky pink nipples in my fingers and squeeze and roll them. Listening to all those pretty sounds I know you’d make.  

 Then I'd lift you to my mouth. You weigh nothing. I'd mark you everywhere. Sucking on those tiny pink buds until they're red and aching, licking a line up your throat to your ear, I'd whisper. "I wanna be inside you.”

 You'd slide down my body and take my hand in yours, leading me to the research table. Taking my belt in your hands and slowly stripping me from the waist down, you'd moan my name as my hands touch your smooth skin.

 "Watch me," you'd say as you slowly made your way up onto the table.

 Laying on your back with your head hanging off the edge, you'd guide my semi-hard cock to your mouth, licking a line from base to tip. You’d massage my balls as you sucked and licked at the thick vein underneath.

 "Fuck my throat, Sammy, please?" you’d beg as I run my hands over your delicate frame.

 "Fuck, little one, I don't wanna hurt you," I'd moan as you wiggle your tongue right under the head, making me buck my hips.

 "You won't, Sam, I promise," you’d say.

 That's when you'd go for it. You'd open wide and suck me into your hot, wet mouth, making me grunt as I try to hold back.

 "Tap my leg three times if you need to stop." I'd say as my hips start to thrust forward.

 You'd nod as best you can and I'd feel your mouth open wider. I'd watch in amazement as I slowly push more and more of my cock into your mouth and down your throat, groaning as you swallow around me. I'd watch as your throat stretched as my dick disappears completely.

 Pulling all the way out until you're sucking on nothing but the tip, I’d ask, "You can take all of me?"

 Then I'd watch your tiny hands wrap around me while you tongue my balls.

 "Hmm," you'd mumble as a smirk formed on your wet lips. "No gag reflex."

 Then you'd lick a hot line up the vein underneath.

 "Holy fuck," I'd whisper, in awe of you sucking the head of my cock back into your slick mouth, my dick sliding with no resistance down the tight wet cavern of your throat.

 I'd lift my hand and place it there, feeling the bulge, and a shudder runs up my spine.

 I’d watch as you just keep taking it - taking me repeatedly pulling out and pushing in. I'd listen as you moan and time your breaths with my thrusts.

 Leaning over I'd place my hands on your breasts and watch as they disappear under my hands. Squeezing them together I’d suck both pretty pink nipples into my mouth, moaning at the taste of your skin as my hips pick up intensity.

 "Shit," I'd pant as your throat contracts around me. "I'm gonna come.”

 Your arms would wrap around my thighs and pull me forward, all but impaling yourself on my cock. Then you'd swallow, actually swallow around me as I explode into your throat.

 Grunting and breathing heavy, foggy head clearing, I’d realize your mouth and throat are still stuffed full of my cock.

 Standing to my full height I’d watch as I slip from your lips, my cock glistening with spit. I’d feel a smile on my lips as you roll to lay on your stomach, breathing hard - your face red and mascara staining your cheeks as you lick my cum from your lips.

 You've never looked more beautiful.

 "So," you’d say with a playful smirk. "Thanks for reaching that book for me.”

 I’d laugh as I bend to kiss your wet swollen lips

 ************

 "Sam?" you say, and I shake my head to clear it, looking down into your wide eyes.

 "I said thanks for reaching that book for me," you repeat.

Thanks for reading!

Tags: @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @closetspngirl​ @its-a-spn-thing​ @leatherandapplepies​ @ladywinchester1967​ @getnaildbyme​ @myinconnelly1​ @pink1031​ @rockhoochie​ @fatestemptress​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @evansrogerskitten​ @idreamofplaid​ @sis-tafics​ @waywardnerd67​ @waywardbaby​ @arazialotis​ @mishtho​ @akshi8278​ @flamencodiva​ @time-travel-bouqet​ @milo-winchester-4ever​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @foreverwayward​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @just-another-busy-fangirl​ @destielhoneybee​ @shadowkat-83​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @prettydeaneyes​ @67midnightwriter​ @stusbunker

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

[minghaocouture]

Fearless: Chapter 6

Pairing: Werewolf!Jeon Wonwoo x Vampire!Reader Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Non-Idol Au Warnings: Language, Descriptions of violence Rating: T WC: 4.2K AU Lore:   Vampire Coven Info/Wolf Pack Info/Lore Info

A/N: This chapter def did not go the way it was originally planned lol. But i really like how it turned out.

Chapter List: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14

Tag List: @moon-asia​

It was official. Wonwoo was in big trouble. 

After his chat with Sojung and his meeting with on the beach, there was no way he could deny that what he was feeling wasn’t the mate pull. Which was why he was currently sitting out on the patio, phone in hand and attempting to not text her. [Y/N], the name he had finally gotten, to check and make sure she hadn’t gotten into any more trouble with her Coven. From what little information she had given him, she was in pretty big trouble for their fight.

Thinking about that he lifted a hand to his face, the scars weren’t as bad as hers would be...that is if she could get scars. He knew Vampires healed better than most of the other species but he wasn’t sure to what extent. He would have to ask her later. Though with how closed off she was it would probably be a while before she actually was willing to answer his questions. Which Wonwoo completely understood, technically they were still on opposite sides.

The back door sliding open snapped Wonwoo out of his thoughts, and he quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket. Glancing over at the door, he watched as Vernon exited and joined him. The younger man taking the seat next to him. The male seemed just as chill as he normally did, Wonwoo wondered if his nature came from the fact that he was born right at the end of the seventies. It would make sense. Vernon didn’t say anything for a while, content with just sitting outside watching the snow softly fall.

As the two sat in silence, Wonwoo pondered for a moment about telling Vernon about everything that had happened over the past 3 days. Out of the whole Pack, Vernon and Sojung were the only two that Wonwoo couldn’t see blowing up or telling Seungcheol. He felt he needed to talk to someone about it though, this was his mate after all. Besides, if he wanted to stop the plan for the Full Moon then he would need help. Wonwoo wasn’t dumb enough to think he could do everything on his own. 

Clearing his throat to break the silence, Wonwoo pushed himself forward slightly and placed his elbows on his knees.

“Vernon?” he was met with a small grunt, an acknowledgement that the younger was listening. “What would you do if you found your mate?” The question was innocent enough. Wonwoo wondered if Vernon had even really thought about it before, considering the male had only been ageless for about 19 years where Wonwoo had been stuck looking like a 20 year old for more than 70. 

Back when he was younger, Wonwoo had always assumed that his mate would be human or another wolf. That his romance would be a simple one, like his parents before him. He hadn’t been anticipating...whatever this was turning out to be. 

Vernon shrugged in response. “I mean, I guess I’d just tell them that they’re my mate? Maybe go on a few dates? It’s not really something I think about too much.” Vernon wasn’t exactly known for being a person who thinks ahead, more of a go with the flow type of guy. Wonwoo honestly had expected this kind of answer from him. What he hadn’t been expecting was the follow up.

“What about you? I mean, you found them right? That’s why you’ve been sneaking off late at night recently, and being all weird?” Wonwoo simply blinked at the younger male, a bit amazed that he had been so obvious about his situation. Vernon took his silence as an invitation to continue.

“I mean, everyone’s kind of noticed. Especially since you ran off by yourself after the meeting tonight and didn’t come home til like 1.” He’d need to be more careful about that from now on. Having her number would definitely help out with seeming less suspicious when leaving. Now he’d just message her if he would be late to their meetings. 

Running a hand through his hair, Wonwoo leaned back into the chair once more. Heavily debating on actually confessing everything to Vernon. It was a risky decision, even if Vernon didn’t freak out. Anxiety filled his gut as he leaned forward once more, casting a glance over to the door that led back into the house. Once he was certain that no one was about to join them outside, or could possibly be listening in, he made his decision.

“I did.” swallowing back his nerves, he was honestly amazed that he had been able to keep his poker face on as he spoke. “I did find her, but it’s a lot more complicated than I expected.” Vernon snorted a bit, pulling on the strings of his hoodie as he listened to his elder.

“Can’t be that hard? You just gotta lay on your...charm.” Vernon gave Wonwoo a once over before nodding firmly. As if needing to confirm that his nerdy pack mate was, in fact, charming. If Wonwoo wasn’t in complete agreement, he probably would have been insulted. “Yeah you’re charming enough, I’m sure you can woo her in no time.” 

“Yeah. It’d probably be easier if we weren’t going to be trying to run her and her family out of town in...3 days now?” Not a great way to say it, but it was better than just saying flat out that she is a Vampire. Not much better but still, he gave himself points for trying. 

“We’re running people out of town in 3 days? I haven’t heard anything happening on the Full Moon...oh” Vernon trailed off, as the realization hit him. Like Wonwoo before him, Vernon turned a bit to get a good look at the back door to make sure no one was coming out or watching them through the glass. Once he was sure, he turned back to Wonwoo and honestly looked concerned. 

“She’s...ya know?” at this, Vernon lifted his hands and mimed Vampire fangs with his index fingers. “I vant to suck your bluuud” He made sure to use his most stereotypical vampire accent he could. Wonwoo just nodded in response before he slouched and rested his head in his hands. It would have been funnier if Wonwoo was less stressed about the whole thing. 

“Well shit.” 

Well shit was right.

“Does she know?” Wonwoo lifted his head a moment, returning his gaze to Vernon. A brow raised in confusion at his friend’s words. 

“Does she know that you two are mates? Does she even know how mates work?” Oh. That was a question that Wonwoo hadn’t thought about. She seemed to have pretty closed minded views when it came to Werewolves so it wouldn’t be too surprising if she had no idea how mates worked for wolves. That was another thing to add to his list of things he needed to talk to her about.

Vernon shook his head at Wonwoo’s lack of response. “You need to talk to her about it. The sooner the better, especially since she might be able to get her people to stop with the bodies. Sana and Jacob found another one on their run tonight.” 

“That’s something else, she says that it isn’t her people doing that.” Wonwoo was quick to give that information. He wanted to make sure that he was clearing that suspicion as soon as he could, with whom he could at least. So at the moment, only Vernon. If he brought it up with anyone else he would have to explain how he knew, which wouldn’t be good.

The distrust was clear on Vernon’s face, not that he distrusted Wonwoo but he definitely distrusted his mate. Which Wonwoo had expected.

“She said she would talk to her Coven about it and make sure, but until she gets back to me I’ll take her word for it.” Wonwoo continued. Not just because of the mate bond, but because she had honestly seemed confused when he had brought it up. “And she said she would believe me when i told her that Hyunwoo and Hoseok didn’t mean to hurt that kid the other day.”

Vernon jutted out his lips a bit and nodded, obviously still not too keen on taking her for her word but he’d trust Wonwoo. This was new territory after all, neither of the men had heard of a wolf being mated with a vampires. So neither male was certain how to approach the subject. 

Now it was time to breach the next conversation topic. 

“Tomorrow night, could you cover for me if I go meet her again?” 

***

The last few days of your life, you had gotten some pretty bad ideas. By far, this was the worst one yet.

Zipping up your jacket all the way to your neck, making sure your gloves tucked nicely under your sleeves and finally making sure your umbrella was open and ready for you to exit the building.

In the daytime.

Which would slowly start to burn you alive if the sun touched you. 

So all in all, this was a terrible idea. But information was needed and the Coven didn’t have anyone that could go out during the day safely, sure there was Keonhee but the second you mentioned the bodies in the forest he panicked and almost started crying. Sure you could have messaged Wonwoo and asked him, but it felt wrong to make him do all the daytime work. Especially since there was that part of you that was still apprehensive of him. So, needless to say, it was up to you to risk your life to try and figure out what the hell was going on in this town.

Thankfully, Minghao had given you the okay for this mission. He even went so far as to make sure it was kept secret from Jun and Soonyoung as well. You were honestly pretty grateful that Minghao seemed to be so willing to help you. When you first started all of this, you were expecting the inner circle to have more issues with it. Minghao was proving you wrong, even mentioning that he feels the hatred between Vampires and Werewolves had gotten dumb and cliche so if this would help stop a war between the two groups in town then he would help.

Now here you were, carefully walking through the town during the day time. It wasn’t too sunny because of the cloud coverage as it snowed, but you were still far too paranoid to close the umbrella.

The day started out with you getting absolutely no information on anything, no one had heard of anyone disappearing and the police station had only released  one or two missing persons reports in the past few months. So while those could definitely have been a few of the victims, it was hard to know. After all, humans were sometimes worse than any creature that the night had to offer. 

As you walked through the town, a yawn left your lips. You weren’t used to being out at this time of day, in fact it had been over a hundred years since the last time you were outside in the daytime. 

“Are you…[y/n]?” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts and had you staring at a young man. He looked around twenty, with hair that reminded you of the red from a sunset. His bright tye-dye hoodie was almost worse than the bright environment you had been having to deal with for the past few hours. 

Adjusting your umbrella once again, you raised a brow at the male. “Who the hell wants to know?” The aura of the male was definitely that of a wolf, but the only wolf who knew your name was Wonwoo. As that thought passed through your head, anxiety began to pool inside of your gut. You were thinking the absolute worst, had Wonwoo been using you to get information on your Coven? You hadn’t given him much, but it would explain why he kept wanting to meet up despite the Full Moon only being 3 days away now.

As if he could tell what you were thinking, the male quickly raised his hands out in front of him. Almost like he was surrendering. “I’m a friend of Wonwoo’s. He told me about you yesterday, said that you were a...ya know.” He lifted his hands to make mock fangs with his index fingers. He then moved a hand out for you to shake. A goofy looking smile on his face, as if he was trying to appear more like a trustworthy person. “I’m Vernon, by the way.”

You simply stared at his hand for a moment, and gave him your best ‘are you kidding me’ look. This just caused him to laugh a bit before dropping his hand, shoving it back inside the pocket of his hoodie. 

“I’m surprised to see you outside during the daytime.” He confessed, “I thought just being outside when the sun was out could kill you. But i’m sure you won’t tell me how it actually works, so I won’t ask.” Well at least he caught on quick.

You didn’t know how to feel about Wonwoo having told this man about your meetings. It felt a little like a betrayal, but at the same time you knew that Wonwoo owed nothing to you. Least of all loyalty. Despite this you were still clenching your teeth in frustration, grip on the umbrella becoming tight enough that you were mildly worried you would break the handle. 

“Wonwoo is about to get off work, do you want to come with me to pick him up? Three people together might have better luck finding things than just one person.” He didn’t wait for your response, and just walked past you as if he expected you to follow him. Blinking in surprise, you turned and watched him walk for a few seconds. Against your better judgement, that’s exactly what you did. 

It was a few minutes of walking in silence before Vernon stopped in front of a small book store. So you would assume that this was where Wonwoo worked. Vernon opened the door and looked back at you, he seemed like he was about to say something when you simply followed in after him. He stared back at you after you entered with a look of surprise etched onto his face. 

“I thought you needed to be invited into places?” His rather silly question caused you to snort in laughter as you breezed past him. Making sure you were far enough away from the glass door before you closed your umbrella. 

“That’s literally only private homes.” you retorted, an amused smirk on your face as you watched him. He nodded in response as if the information was truly valuable. It really wasn’t, which was why you told him at all. If it had been something more important you would have kept your mouth shut like before.

As the two of you walked through the store, you avoided the store front because of the larger windows on that side. He asked you small questions about your people, what you thought was happening, etc. You answered as vaguely as possible, still not fully trusting this wolf. You also hadn’t seen Wonwoo yet, which was a bit concerning since Vernon had said this was where he worked.

Despite the light tension things were going pretty good between the two of you, up until Vernon decided to step on a landmine.

“Why do you hate wolves so much?” His question had you freeze. Wonwoo hadn’t even asked you that yet, but here Vernon was asking this before he even knew you for a full twenty four hours. You were silent for a moment, a hand that had been reaching out to a book just simply stayed on the spine. Not bothering to pull the book out, or to move your hand away. 

Seeming to realize the trigger he had hit, he quickly back tracked. “You don’t have to answer, I’m just a bit curious. Everyone seems to have reasons for hating each other. I just wanted to know yours.” he explained. Vernon had been surprised to see such a look of defeat and anger on your face, an odd mix of emotions that you didn’t see regularly. “I mean, I don’t really hate Vampires. I just got told growing up that they were bad for whatever reason. So I was curious if, you know, Vampires did the same things?”

“It’s fine.” you muttered, pulling your hand away from the shelf at last. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. “I hate Wolves because they’re the reason I’m like this.” It was something you didn’t like to think about. When you did, you could remember the screams of your little sister as a wolf tore her limb from limb. Your mother sobbing in anguish as she watched your father’s mutilated corpse fall to the floor of your home. The feeling of all the air leaving your lungs as you were thrown harshly through the wall of your home and landing harshly on the ground outside.

Needless to say it was a day that you did not like remembering.

“[y/n]?” Recognizing the familiar voice, you spun around to find yourself almost face to face with Wonwoo. He smiled when he realized that it was in fact you. “What are you doing out during the day time? I thought that could kill you?” He questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder as if that would help convey his worry for you. With a gentleness that you hadn’t been expecting from yourself, you pushed his hand away.

“Couldn’t let you do all the work during the day, now could I?” You muttered, and flashing him an actual smile for what was probably the first time since you had met. The brushing past him and making your way back to the front of the shop and opening your umbrella so you could exit and continue your search.

***

The three of you asked around about anything strange going on. It was about 4pm when eventually you came across a young woman, maybe mid twenties. 

“Minah, you said your name was? Can you tell us exactly what happened?” 

The woman nodded, her soft coils bouncing lightly as she did. Her aura reminded you of Keonhee, of someone that was too kind and too pure for the kind of world they lived in. It was almost sad that she lived in a town as apparently dangerous as this one was. She seemed frightened as she spoke to the three of you, as she was currently wringing her hands together and looking over her shoulder as if someone was going to jump out and grab her.

“Yes, Minah that’s my name. I um...you’re probably going to think i’m crazy. The police did.” she muttered, green eyes casting themselves down toward the snow covered concrete. Vernon flashed her a small smile and shook his head. 

“Believe me, if anyone will believe you it’s us three.”

Taking him for his word she continued. “Well I was coming home from work last night and since it was late, and I wanted to get home quicker so I took the alley. It’s the fastest way to my complex so I take it even if it’s a bit more sketchy.” As she spoke she refused to make eye contact with any of you, her emerald eyes staying glued on her feet.

“I saw this couple, and they looked like they were fighting. But the guy clearly had the advantage and he had shoved the woman harshly against the building wall. I didn’t really know what to do, so I was going to call the police but before I could even get my phone out. He...well he bit her neck, and not in like the sexy way like in the attacking kind of way. I think he was a Vam-”

“A Vampire.” You finished. Minah nodded in agreement with you, her eyes finally meeting yours. You could see the hope that seemed to grow in her eyes. Simply because you believed her. At her confession, Wonwoo glanced over at you. Wordlessly asking if it could have been any member of your Coven. You shook your head immediately, as everyone last night had been partnered up and no one said they got separated. So it had to be a stray, or at least that’s the only conclusion you could come to. 

“Minah, did he see you?” Wonwoo questioned, glancing back at the woman. Your stomach dropped as she nodded again. That was definitely not good, and if he could he would probably go after her next. That was very not good. Pulling your phone out, you shot a quick text to Minghao. Giving him a short summary of what you’d just been told. 

“Am I in trouble? He’s going to find me isn’t he?” Her questions sounded so defeated, as if your reactions had confirmed that the woman was soon to die because of her actions. Vernon instantly began to deny it, but didn’t have any real proof to comfort the woman, who looked as if she was about to start crying.

After receiving a response from Minghao, you slid your phone back into your pocket and approached the woman. Your umbrella now covering the both of you from the light snow that continued to fall, she shivered as she looked up at you.

“Minah. I might have a way to keep you safe but you have to trust me okay?” She nodded slowly, tears still brimming in her eyes. In response you simply opened your mouth slightly, giving her a quick view of her fangs. You were pretty amazed that despite the obvious fear in her eyes she still stood her ground, trusting you as you had asked her to.

“I’m going to take you to a safe place, more people like me can protect you from that guy you saw last night. Will you come with me?” You sighed in relief when she nodded to agree. Asking her to wait there for a moment, you turned back to your companions. Grabbing their arms and pulled them a little further away from Minah, to speak out of range of her.

“Minghao says we can watch her until we figure out what’s going on. I’ll drop her off and...and “ you paused mid sentence to let out a long yawn, obviously the very few hours of sleep you got before coming out was catching up to you. “And then we can meet up at the beach. Can you two see if you find any bodies out in the forest, maybe the woman she saw last night?”  

“What exactly are you going to do?” Wonwoo questioned. He seemed almost concerned, as if he had thought of something you hadn’t. “How are you going to explain to your Coven why you were out during the day?” Well he had in fact thought of something you hadn’t. 

Sure Minghao and Hyunjin knew what you were doing, but everyone would know you were out during the day if you brought Minah back there. It would put you in a very difficult situation. Jun was still upset with you for your recklessness the night you attacked Wonwoo, and Soonyoung...well you hadn’t seen him since that day so who knows how he would react to coming home to a human in the spare room. Chan you weren’t too worried about, sure he was a member of the inner circle but he never really concerned himself with things outside of his job for the night. 

So basically you just had to worry about Jun. It is never good to have to worry about Jun. You didn’t want to let Wonwoo or Vernon know this, especially not Wonwoo. So you simply shrugged in response. 

“I’ll improvise. It’s no biggie, I’m a great liar.” Wonwoo snorted in response, shaking his head at you. The expression on his face showed how little he believed your words. Flashing a small glare in his direction, you jabbed at him with your elbow. A laugh escaped his lips at your actions and he gently pushed you back.

“Guys can you two flirt later? We have stuff we need to do.” Vernon seemed to be the voice of reason today. You almost made an attempt to deny that you were flirting, but before you could Wonwoo spoke up.

“You’re right, we should get going or Seungcheol will get worried.” But he made no effort to deny Vernon’s statement, which would have caused your face to flush if you had been capable of blushing still. Wonwoo turned to you, carefully placing a hand on the shoulder of your uninjured arm. “Make sure you get back safe, and message me if anything happens.” 

With that, the three of you parted ways. The boys headed North towards their home, and you turned back to Minah. Keeping her close as you made your way back South towards the bar. 

This was going to be fun to explain.

[antihero-writings]

Before It Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippet)

Fandom: Lore Olympus 

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. 

Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt. 

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! 

1. This is only a snippet of chapter 2, and not the full thing. I usually don’t post this way, but a) lots of people have been asking for chapter 2 lately--(which, thank you SO much for the support, by the way!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!!)--and b) this is one of the hardest fics I’ve ever had to write, so I don’t know when I’ll finish, so I wanted to give you something, at least.

Do let me know if you’d like me to keep using this posting-snippets format, or you’d rather I just wait to post the full thing, however far in the future that may be!!

2. While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, you may kindly let me know! I’d appreciate if you said things you liked too though.)

I'd REALLY appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I'm not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who said they were interested! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippet: 

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty.”

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Don’t Let Go

So this is a sequel (not requested) to Hold On that I really loved writing… I hope you all enjoy it, because I’m really nervous on posting it. I decided on the sequel after very careful thought, not wanting to ruin ‘Hold On’; but after scrutinising every detail, I hope people can have fun reading this. Also, over 2.5K words -- that’s a first lmao.

Also, this was beta read by none other than @marshmallow--3​! So, thank you, Sam! Go check them out -- they’re awesome!

Obviously, this is going to diverge from canon A LOT here -- so bear that in mind.

I could write this plot forever omfg I was finding it hard to stop -- I’m really sad to be putting this away now, but I could always write drabbles relating to it *wink wink*

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I’d love to know what you all think; every comment/reblog is precious to me haha.

Tagging: @yourlocalfrenchie​ (if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!)

The link to Hold On is HERE

Warnings: Violence, Angst with a fluffy ending. No swearing, (miraculously)

Days went by. Your body lay in the train; Jacob couldn’t figure out what to do with it.

He couldn’t eat, sleep or even hold a conversation. Evie couldn’t communicate with him, as he would never reply. His mind was always occupied, for if it wasn’t, it would always end up in the most terrifying places.

The deprivation of necessities had taken its toll on his body. He was becoming fatigued after only a few hours, and he would frequently pass out from lack of sleep on top of his work, only to be woken up by re-enactments of the one moment he wished he could forget. He would be left gasping, sweating; clutching his chest as his anxiety and fear left an agony that squeezed his heart. In fact, the only time he managed to get any sleep was when it was dreamless.

In order to keep his mind busy, he studied.

Clad in only a shirt and breeches, he spent all his time pouring over the books in the train, for it was only a matter of time before you couldn’t be saved, and he had to let you go. There was a reason you mentioned the shroud, after all. Henry had talked about it once, when him and Evie went to visit the Kenway Estate. So he focused all his time on it, delving deep into lore.

One particular book was being heavily scrutinised by his hazel eyes. It was not a particularly interesting book, and in a half second of laziness, his Eagle Vision crackled through. The colours on the page, however, was not what he expected.

The words on the page turned from different types of fabrics to something much more relevant. It wrote about one certain thread; a material so powerful, it could hold the Elixir of Life.

It could resurrect people -- it was the fabric of the Shroud.

And Starrick had it.

Dressing, Jacob shrugged his overcoat over his shoulders and sifted his hand through his hair to allow his hat to sit on it. In the past, you would have done that.

Hopefully you would do so again.

He looked out over the sunset of the city as the train moved, adjusting his hat. His coat whipped at his knees; it was time to find that shroud.

----------

The night was freezing. The temporary Stronghold was heavily guarded, and was also very sophisticated; it could easily be mistaken for a house belonging to a wealthy family. He sat on a roof overlooking the property. The easiest entrance seemed to be through the balcony, but it seemed extremely easy.

He took the risk; he was already on a time limit.

However, as he leapt towards the balcony, he didn’t take into account his weakened state from lack of sleep and food. Instead of landing inside the balcony, his fingers had just about brushed against the railings. He had a lot of trouble pulling himself up and over, his muscles already beginning to ache. In the cold, his fingers fumbled around his lockpicks. It didn’t take long for him to open the window, but the lack of urgency of his body was beginning to frustrate his mind.

Jacob stalked the halls, peering into every room, and working downwards. There were a few close calls where he was almost caught, but he blended into the shadows quick enough to hide.

He reached the ground floor, and made a beeline to the one door that stood out over all of the others. It had locks spanning from the top to the bottom of the door. Inwardly, he huffed. 

He almost made it without being detected. 

That was, until a force pushed him face first into the wall. A hand grappled to reach his throat. Jacob elbowed the enemy on instinct, and managed to turn enough to kick a brute away. He grinned maliciously. “Don’t look too good, Frye.”

Already in a foul mood, Jacob snarled. “Wait until you see the other bloke.” He unsheathed his hidden blade and struck like a viper towards his neck. 

His wrist got caught. 

The brute bent his hand and manipulated his arm to persuade Jacob to collapse on one knee. He tried to mask his pain, sharp breaths exhaled instead of pained grunts, which sat in the back of his throat. His nostrils flared as he tried to jab the brute’s leg, and what was between them. However, instead of letting go, the brute pulled against his arm harder, releasing a pained noise. Jacob’s other hand came to ease the pressure his perpetrator was putting on his bone. He could hear and feel it began to crack. “One too many beers, Frye,” the brute tutted. “Disappointing, really.” In one smooth motion his arm snapped.

He yelled, the brute throwing him to his side. Before he could get up, a shoe was pressed firmly against his limb, evoking another pained noise. Jacob’s other hand tried to pry it off. “D’you recognise me, Frye?” He pushed an inch harder to keep the gang leader’s attention. Squinting, Jacob did agree that there was some familiarity to his face. 

“I can’t remember angering such a handsome fellow; we can always reschedule those beers,” he panted, trying to ignore the throbbing through a pained smile. 

The man smiled angrily, pressing down harder as he placed his other foot against his throat. “You murdered my twin brother.” Jacob squinted again, and realised who he reminded him of. 

He growled. “Your twin brother murdered my lover.” 

Against the wall hung a spear on display, it was unknown whether it was old or fake. “And now…” He pushed the point against the centre of his chest, where Jacob’s hand struck out to grab the shaft above the blade, attempting to prevent the piercing of his skin. “I can finish the job. First you; slowly, painfully, and then--” 

All the pressure against Jacob disappeared. As air flooded through his lungs, his good hand dropped the spear and took out a small, agile throwing knife. He looked and threw it within one adrenaline-filled second. 

The brute went limp, bleeding out of his exploded eye socket. 

He drew in a few breaths, to take in oxygen and to calm the anxiety. A figure came into view, offering a hand out. The shadow looked familiar, and for a moment, he wondered…

“Good throw.” Evie smiled softly with a gleam of concern.

“I was aiming between the eyes.” He took the help, groaning softly at the pain in the arm he held against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help my little brother -- and I want to get my best friend back.” 

Jacob smiled, grateful for the backup. 

“Why don’t you leave the combat to me?”

For once, that was something he could agree with. 

Evie picked the locks efficiently; it took no longer than a minute or two to get through all of them.

The dark, damp room was completely bare, void of windows and furniture, except for a single chest. It was big, it was grand, and it was definitely First Civilisation. It had various cracks, through which a mysterious light glowed. Evie knelt by the chest, and by methods unknown to Jacob, managed to open it. Inside was the most intimately woven shawl he had ever seen, showered in silver and gold. Picking it up, she partly unfolded it, moving to wrap it around Jacob’s arm. He recoiled. “What--” 

“Jacob, trust me.” He relented, not being in much of a state to complain. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

As they escaped out of the back door of the mansion, Jacob began to feel his neck begin to tingle. There was no doubt that there were bruises there, but he’s never felt them actually prick before. By the time they were clear of the territory, the throbbing began to worsen in his arm. “Evie, I don’t think it’s--” his vision blacked out suddenly, and his knees buckled beneath him. Evie managed to catch half of him, his weight still taking him to the floor. She leaned him against the wall. “Jacob? Are you alright?” 

He furrowed his brows. “Aye; I just couldn’t see for a moment.” He was about to get up before he felt a peculiar feeling in his arm, before he felt his bone snap again. He winced with a yell, before the pain all but disappeared. He exchanged glances with a very worried Evie before he tentatively pulled the shroud off of his arm. There was no pain, and he could move it just fine. 

“It works.” Jacob got up, hiding the shroud under his coat. “Back to the train.” He tripped over his words excitedly -- the hope in his eyes had returned. 

“Race you there?” Evie smirked.

In a sudden heart palpitation, he agreed. 

----------

Jacob never waited for the train to stop, and instead leapt into the open door before Evie would even consider it safe. He unbuckled his gauntlet and threw his coat off without caring whether they would hit his sofa or his floor, heading to your carriage with the folded shroud in hand. Henry was inside, watching over you. With no time for words he unfolded the fabric and pulled it over your shoulders so it would cover your torso. 

Henry was left starstruck. “How--” 

Evie entered the carriage. “So?”

Jacob watched, eyes scrutinising every inch of the shroud. He lightly shook his head, expression not changing. 

He became restless very quickly, from rolling up his sleeves to keep his fingers occupied to pacing the length of the carriage, never once taking his eyes off of you. As soon as he let go of the shroud, he could feel all of his energy dissipating with it -- he was extremely tired and hungry again, but his anxiety wouldn’t let him look after his own body -- he could only think about you. 

As seconds turned to minutes, he became more sleep deprived, and therefore a lot more frustrated. He could feel it bubbling in his chest, and he resorted to the one thing he knew would calm it.

“I’m getting a drink.” 

As he walked into the bar carriage, all conversations and laughter disappeared. He knew it wasn’t because of how he was dressed, but rather the look on his face. “Keep talking,” he ordered, praying for his Rooks to just ignore him for once as he sat at the bar. Gesturing for a whisky, he hunched over his glass, savouring the burn as he knocked the liquid down his throat. He was worried that it wasn’t going to work; that it would all be for nought. As quick as his hope had returned, it was quickly seeping away. He felt the tears prick his eyes, and properly downed his glass to keep them at bay, ordering another one to nurse slowly… just in case sobriety was needed.

----------

He took care in making his second drink last as long as possible. Once he had pushed the glass back to the bartender, he didn’t ask for another one, and instead put his head in his hands, threading his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. When the door opened, he didn’t look up at first, thinking it was another rook. So he just ignored it, clasping a hand over the other to work as a chin rest. What confused him was the look the bartender gave the ‘rook’ who came in. He turned over his shoulder once he realised that the crowd had once again gone quiet. They were all staring too. Furrowing his brows, he turned to look at the door. 

His heart skipped a beat and he froze. It was silent as he drank in the scene before him. He swallowed thickly, pushed himself off of his stool and walked with loud purpose. One hand wrapped tightly around your waist, and the other cradled your head. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and just stood there. You brought your arms around his back, and felt his shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed under his breath.

“Jacob, Jacob.” You pulled him off of you and grasped his face in your hands. One of his own came over your hand while the other caressed your cheek. “Breathe.” You saw him inhale a shuddering breath, composing himself. “I’m here now; it’s okay.” Smiling, he pulled you to his lips, dipping down to close the height gap. You laughed against his lips once you heard the whooping of the Rooks around you. Although you both broke apart, your noses stayed touching. Jacob sniffed noisily, but you didn’t move. “Yuck,” you joked.

For the first time in forever, Jacob laughed. It felt foreign, but he welcomed it. He pecked your lips again, a smile fixed on his face. You trailed your fingers across his left forearm. “How’s your arm?” 

Jacob squinted. “How do you--” Looking up, he saw Evie and Henry in the doorway. They both looked like they’d been crying. Jacob shared a twin look at his sister. Thank you, it said.

Evie smiled, another tear running down her face as she gave him one back. No -- thank you, it replied. 

Jacob brought you into another hug, holding you less tightly this time around, but just as securely. 

“I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you more, Jacob.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Anything’s possible.”

----------

BONUS:

Evening

Jacob had finally succumbed to sleep. You watched him try and stay awake, but you negotiated until he finally lost interest and dozed off, his bottom half fully dressed, but top half shirtless; sleeping in a bloodied shirt was not going to be nice at all. Stuff like that always got him yawning. Evie came into the room quietly, fully aware of the lack of sleep Jacob had had recently. She greeted you with a sisterly hug. “Are you not going to join him?” she asked, watching over her brother’s sleeping form. “I’ve been sleeping for days, Evie. I’m anything but tired.” 

She chuckled, patting your shoulder. “Henry and I are in my carriage if you need us.”

You pulled a suggestive face. “Ah, I see how it is.”

Blushing, she tried to hide a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her tone showed that she knew exactly what you were talking about. You raised both of your eyebrows. “Don’t tell Jacob,” she whispered with a bashful smile, leaving you and Jacob alone. 

Looking at Jacob, you mulled over your thoughts. Coming to a quick conclusion, you did decide to join him. You stripped yourself of your heavy clothing and joined him in his bed in a blouse and breeches. As you settled next to him, you felt his arm enclose protectively around you. 

“So, Evie and Greenie, huh?”

Your eyes widened. “Uh…”

His chest rumbled in a sleepy chuckle as he responded in an equally sleepy voice. “Don’t worry, she’ll never know that I know.” 

It didn’t take long for his breathing to deepen again, and slowly you began to drift off as well, relieved that you’ll be able to wake up again.

[shealynn88]

We're Not Friends

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Sterek A/N: Takes place early to mid-season 2.  Huge thanks to @all-or-nothing-baby​ who made this a better fic and a better art! Rating: Teen Word Count: 850

Read it on Ao3 or below:

Stiles always seems to get stuck doing the werewolf grunt work.  Chauffeuring one Derek Hale to the sheriff station, the animal clinic, the school.  Looking up records and autopsies and lore that the werewolf should already know.  Hunting down information that might give away his stupid pack that Stiles doesn’t even like anyway because they’re mean and murderous and not cool.  Why does he have to be the one putting up with the werewolf’s threats and stares and shoulders and cheekbones and leather jacket, getting his stupid huge hands all over his jeep and now his kitchen and his living room...

Stiles shakes his head.  Off track.  Off track, Stiles.  “Okay,” he says, forcing himself to focus as he searches the police reports.  “Looks like there haven’t been any other animal attacks reported, so it sounds like you got the rest of the roadkill your buddies ripped through.  You know I could get in huge trouble for this, right?”  He runs the script to clear the access logs.  “Not that you care, of course.  No, because what else would I be doing with my time?  Just breaking into my dad’s computer to get you information that only I can get you. And what do I get for it?  Huh?  A big fat nothing, I’ll bet.  Just the honor of your silent, terrifying company. You know—”  He closes the last window with a dramatic click and then spins around to face Derek, righteously annoyed—and, wow, Derek is closer than he’d realized.  Stiles’ rant sticks in his throat. He’s uncharacteristically quiet when he finally continues.  “You know, I didn’t hold you up in that pool because I thought you’d protect me.  I’m not like that.  Neither is Scott.”

Derek stares at him silently and Stiles finally swallows hard and spins his chair slowly back to the computer.  Down, boy, he tells himself firmly.  Down.

Derek remains silent beside him and Stiles shakes his head and mumbles.  “Don’t know why I bother with you, man.”

“I know,” Derek says, voice low enough that it reverberates right there in Stiles’ stomach in that irritating fucking way that Derek has.  Untrustworthy, horrible, infuriating Derek, who can’t believe anyone exists who isn’t just as selfish and self-absorbed as he is.

Stiles spins back again in a fury.  “You know.  You know?  You think you—”

Derek grabs him by the shoulder and leans in, intense.  Is there anything he does that isn’t red alert levels of intense?  Christ, Stiles can feel his heart in his chest, galloping along at a rate that must be pounding in Derek’s ears.  

Derek’s voice is gravel low, almost angry.  “I know. It wasn’t because you needed my protection.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles spits back.  Well—”  He stutters to a halt as the words sink in.  “Oh.  Yeah. Well, right.  Exactly.  Because sometimes you don’t need a reason, y’know.  To do something decent.”

Derek’s fingers are on his skin, now, shifted up so they burn against the side of his neck.  “We’re not friends, Stiles.”

Stiles is fairly certain his stomach is somewhere in his left lung, and his skin is on fire, and his heart is going to make a bloody mess when it bursts out of his chest.  “I know,” he whispers, and it’s not at all how he meant it to sound.  Not like this, all desperate and breathy.

“Stiles,” Derek breathes, and he’s close.  God, he’s so close that Stiles can finally see the depths of his eyes—twelve different colors of green and grey and brown in there.  Jesus, this man should be illegal.

“Derek?” he squeaks.

Derek leans in, just the smallest bit, and his breath is hot against Stiles’ mouth, making him forget everything he’s ever known.  He’s never kissed anyone before. Not for real. Not like this, with his whole body on fire and a huge hand on his neck, holding him steady while the rest of him threatens to fall away.  He lets out a shuddering breath as Derek’s lips slot into his, drag his top lip up and then there’s the hot swipe of Derek’s tongue, there and then gone again, and Stiles just lets his mouth fall open in surrender.  Derek kisses him gently, not at all the way he thought a werewolf with twenty chips on his shoulder would kiss.  

Not that he’s thought about it.  

Or dreamed about it.

Derek moves back and Stiles just manages not to follow.

“You shouldn’t…” Derek grimaces and stands up, his hand dropping away from Stiles’ neck.  “I’m not here for you. You don’t know me.  You don’t know anything about me.”

Stiles closes his eyes and touches his lip with one finger.  “I mean, I know some stuff.”

But Derek is already gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Oh my God,” Stiles says aloud.  “Oh my God.”  He thunks his head down on the desk and tries to forget the burn of Derek Hale’s mouth.

Things just got very complicated.

Tagging: @all-or-nothing-baby​ @midnightsilver​

[vintagevalentinex]

Valentine

I had this idea for a Castiel/Reader story in my head, and I’ll probably reblog it on Valentine’s Day, but I couldn’t help but post it now.  Special shout out to @icecream-and-winchesters for letting me pick her brain!  This is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff.

@icecream-and-winchesters @crazykins123 @theerinpage @bovaria @abaddonwithyall @ohfora67impala @bkwrm523 @maraisabellegrey @kittenofdoomage @spnfanficpond @aprofoundbondwithdean @castielspahdehrah  @stephizzle94

Title: Valentine Author: vintagevalentinexx Words: ~2800 Pairing: (Castiel x Reader) Warnings: Major FLUFF.

It was that time of year again.  

Being a hunter always made relationships particularly difficult.  The thought of being single and alone was just another part of “the job.”  The hunter life wasn’t typically one you shared with another person and you were quite content with that.  You had made your peace with it a long time ago.

That is, until those tall buffoons stumbled into your life.

You could remember it clearly.  It was a couple of years ago and you were trying to hustle your way through a couple games of pool to get some quick cash.  You saw them as they entered the bar.  They were tall and built strong.  They looked so sure of themselves as they walked over to the bar, ordering as they scanned the room.  You smiled to yourself, thinking they would make two easy marks for some quick cash, with the added bonus of them being easy on the eyes.

After two games of pool (one won by you, the other won by the one with the green eyes), you were starting to realize that maybe these boys were better than you had pegged them to be. I will not be out hustled.  You flashed them a smile, leaning over the pool table, your grin growing wider when you noticed the one with the green eyes couldn’t stop looking at your cleavage.

“So what are your names anyway?  It would be nice to know the names of the guys whose money I’m going to win…”

The man with the green eyes and the other one who was ridiculously tall shared a look, turning their gaze back to you, smirking.  The taller man spoke first.

“Winchester.  I’m Sam, he’s Dean.”  He jerked his head toward his brother.

You gasped in recognition, throwing your pool stick onto the table.  Rolling your eyes you spoke.  “Hunters.  Damn it, I should have known.  I guess we should just call it even then?”

They broke out into laughter and offered you a drink.

You quickly learned how amazing the Winchesters were, however, for you at least, they paled in comparison to the angel of the Lord with the blue eyes. You had tagged along on a simple salt and burn with the brothers (you quickly learned that nothing was simple when it came to the both of them).  It had turned out to be a full on demon swarm that was nearly overpowering the three of you.  You had been knocked onto your ass, flinching for the impact of a blow when you saw an almost blinding light, having to shield your eyes from the intensity.  When you were finally able to open your eyes, you were met with her most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen.  

The moment was ruined when you could hear Sam and Dean screaming for you, breathing a sigh of relief when their gaze fell upon the blue-eyed stranger.

“Cas!  It’s about damn time you got here!  (Y/N) looks like hell!  Fix her up, would ya?”  Dean grumbled.

Cas.  Cas is his name?  How did he get here?  How did he know to get here?

You looked up at “Cas,” his lips quirking into a ghost of a smile as he knelt down to be eye level with you.

“Hello, (Y/N).”

“……umm, hi….”

“I am Castiel.  I am an angel of the Lord.  You can call me ‘Cas.’  That is the name that Sam and Dean have chosen to call me…”

“…ummm okay.”  You cough, your hand covering your mouth.  As you move your hand away from your mouth, you can see that you’ve coughed up some blood.  You let out a bitter snigger.  “I guess that demon got me better than I thought…”

You made to move up when Cas put a hand on your shoulder, keeping you still.  With his other hand he pressed two fingers to your forehead, all of the pain and the aches soothed away with a single touch.  You felt nothing but warmth as your eyes found the blue ones again, feeling the heat coming to your cheeks as Cas helped you to your feet.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“It is no trouble, (Y/N).”

“Alright lovebirds, stop making goo goo eyes at each other.  Can we go now?”

Dean continued to groan as you felt your cheeks heat up even more, red from your ears to your neck as you stormed out of the abandoned warehouse, shoving past Sam and Dean, who wore matching smirks.  Cas looked on, concerned and curious.

“Dean, is she well?  Does she perhaps have a fever?”

“Nah, man.  She’s got somethin’ else pretty bad though…”  Dean laughed, sharing a knowing look with Sam.

“Should I follow after her?  Perhaps I didn’t heal her completely.”

“It’s something you can’t heal, buddy.”

As you stomped towards the Impala, you couldn’t get those words out of your mind.  It was no trouble.  You smiled a little to yourself as you slid into the backseat of the car.  You didn’t know it at the time, but those four words would become the most beautiful arrangement of letters you’d ever heard.

Cas became more and more of a facet in your life, always seemingly being there whenever you needed help or company.  His visits with the Winchesters became more frequent and seemingly unnecessary.  Dean was starting to get really confused.

Cas why are you here? I thought you called for me. No, man…

Cas…didn’t you just leave like 15 minutes ago? I thought you could use some assistance. With eating? Yes.

Cas…seriously… I am sorry, Dean…I thought that I heard you faintly praying to me… While I’m sitting on the god damn toilet? In retrospect, that seems to have been a mistake…

Dean shuffled into the library in one of the dead man’s robes, finally drinking coffee.  That was definitely not the way he wanted to be woken up on a Monday morning.  Or at all for that matter.  Cas was getting weirder and weirder and damn it if he wasn’t going to find out why.  He rolled his eyes as he saw Cas sitting in the library with Sam, trying to figure something out in the lore.

“Damn it Cas, what has been your problem lately?  You seem real squirrely…”

“I do not know what you are talking about, Dean…and I also do not understand how I could ever resemble a rodent such as a squirrel…”

Dean rolled his eyes, taking another needed swig of coffee.  It was going to be a long day. “Cas…I’m not even going to start with why that makes no sense but—“

“Morning guys!” You called out. You felt quite chipper this morning.  You were getting some of the best sleep you’ve ever had in probably…ever.  You scanned the room, seeing Sam hard at work already, Dean grumping about like he usually did in the morning, and…oh.

“Good morning Cas!”

“Good morning, (Y/N).  I take it you slept well…”

Dean snaps his head to look at the exchange between the both of you with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face.  I get it now…

Loud yelling brings you out of your daydreaming.  You weren’t really excited for today.  You were hoping that the day would go quickly, and that you wouldn’t see any lovey dovey couples, but you knew that your thoughts were futile.

It was Valentine’s Day.

Normally, this wouldn’t bother you at all, but since the appearance of the blue eyed angel, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts constantly drift to him.  From the moment you met him you knew that he was righteous and brave, but over the weeks and months you began to realize how so inherently good he was.  He was a loyal friend, almost to a fault, and would do anything to make sure the ones he cared about were safe.  And at times that included you.  He had saved you a few times over the months and you were infinitely thankful for him in your life.  When Sam and Dean told you more about how Cas basically sacrificed everything he ever knew and cared about in heaven to protect the people on Earth, it blew you away; his selflessness continuing to amaze you.  He was a good man…er…angel…and you hoped someday that you could have someone in your life that could be even a fraction as good as he was.

You sighed heavily, dragging the Chinese food you picked up while the boys continued their research in the motel room you were sharing for the job you were on.  You quirked an eyebrow as you listened in on the yelling that was occurring on the other side of the door.

“Cas…what the hell is in the cooler?!”

"Well Dean, you told me to give (Y/N) a heart for Valentine’s Day…”

You nearly gapsed.  Cas wanted to give you something for Valentine’s Day?  Maybe he didn’t know what it meant to be someone’s Valentine…

“Cas I swear if there is an actual heart in there…”

“You don’t need to swear; there is a heart in the cooler…I wasn’t sure what kind of heart to get…you didn’t say.  I thought it would be most appropriate to get a human heart because well…(Y/N)’s a human…”

You face palmed, holding back a torrent of giggles and you could nearly feel Dean getting more and more frustrated.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!  Where did you get a freaking human heart, Cas?!  Are you kidding right now!?”

“I thought it was customary—“

“Oh just wait ‘till Sam gets back.  This is great.  Just great, man.”

“Dean, I—“

“Man…seriously…get rid of it.  She’s not gonna want it.”

“Are you positive?”

“Am I—just GET RID OF IT CAS!”

You figured this was probably a good time to announce your presence.  You called through the door.  “Hey guys!  Mind helping me open the door?  My arms are full!”

You heard the flutter of wings and a rush of air as you turned around, Cas standing way too close as your cheeks heated up.  He smiled sheepishly at you as he helped unburden your arms, the door swinging open to reveal a smug looking Dean.  

“You know, Cas…the door works just as fine…”

“Yes…yes Dean.  I will make sure to remember that next time…”

You smiled at him as you all piled back into the motel room.  You ate in an awkward silence, Cas watching both you and Dean eat your food.  The tension in the room was thick.  Dean finally stood up, grunting and rolling his eyes at the entire situation.

“Alright…well since this is such a happening place, I’m going to the bar…there’s probably some woman out there who’s lonely today…”

You scoffed.  “Real nice, Winchester…trying to hook up with lonely woman on Valentine’s Day.”

“Hey…at least I’ll be getting some…unlike you!”

Cas interjected.  “Dean, what do you mean, ‘getting some’?  What are you getting some of?”

Dean shook his head, laughing as he ducked out the door.  “Why don’t you fill him in, (Y/N)?”

The both of you sat there in silence for a few brief moments.  You shift, Cas’s attention on you now at the sudden noise.

“Do you mind if I hop in the shower?  It’s been a long day…you don’t have to leave or anything…I’ll just be in the bathroom…”

“Go right ahead, (Y/N)…though I do not understand why you wouldn’t just walk into the shower…but by all means hop right into it!”  He smiled, trying to ease the tension and awkwardness in the room.  You smiled and shook your head at him.  Bless him, he is trying.

“Alright then, I shouldn’t be too long!”

“It is no trouble, (Y/N).”

You grinned, loving when he uttered those words to you as you headed for the bathroom, letting the steam and the hot water soothe your sore muscles.

You stepped out of the shower, feeling new, as you threw your clothes back on.  You stepped back into the main room.

“Hey Cas, I was—“

But he was gone.

You shrugged, getting ready to break out the beer and turn on Netflix for the night when you noticed that you had a voicemail notification on your phone.  You put your phone to your ear, knowing it could be important, and listen to the message.

“Yes…yes I know this is (Y/N)’s phone, that is why I called it.  Yes, I would like to leave a message.  Why are you still talking to me?  This is not your phone!  (Y/N)!?  (Y/N)?!  If you are there please listen to me!  Go to the place where you bought the Chinese food.  It is of great importance.”

And with that the message ended.  Alarmed that something was wrong you swiped Dean’s keys, thankful that he was walking to the bar that night and sped down the road, breaking all kinds of motor vehicle laws as you raced back to the restaurant, ready to gank any creature that stood in your way.  When you finally parked the car, gun in hand, and ready to go, you noticed something flashy in the alleyway.  You stalked quietly and swiftly, ready to strike when you noticed a simple red dress hanging on a hanger on a fire escape.  It had a note pinned to it.

I apologize for making you think the worst, (Y/N), but I fear that this was the only way to get you here.  Please put this on, I’m nearly positive that it will fit, and I’m absolutely certain that it will look beautiful on you.  Please go to local record store and pick out the album that you told me reminded you of me.

You smiled, shaking your head.  You wanted to be mad, but this was way too sweet.  A scavenger hunt?  What was Cas up to?  Your shrugged into the dress (that did fit perfectly…you weren’t sure to be impressed or creeped out), still clad in your converse as you walked into the record store, remembering how you were telling Cas about the song that made you think of him.  Well, it has wings in it and well, you’re an angel so…

Chewing on your lip you entered the record store, searching up and down the aisles until you finally find what you’re looking for.  You pull the record up from its place and see a note taped to it.

I’m glad you found this.  I was so very touched when you played this song for me.  To know that you think of me when I am not near makes me feel things that I have never felt, (Y/N).  It makes me feel things that I didn’t know that I was even capable of feeling, things that I cannot put into words.  Look under the shelf, and put those on.  Go back to the motel room.

Your face flushes as you read the note, ducking down to find a box of beautiful shoes.  You slip them on as you drive back over to the motel, your heart racing as you make yourself get out of the car.  As you walk to the door, your hand shakily makes its way to the knob, hearing the faint sound of music on the other side.  Twisting the knob and pushing the door open, you are greeted by a trenchcoat-less Castiel, still dressed in his suit.  He stands in the middle of the room nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, twirling a single sunflower between his fingers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/N).”

You blushed as bright as your dress, gently closing the door behind you.  You nervously walked closer to him as he offered you the flower.  You smiled down at it.

“Thank you Cas, I love sunflowers.”

“They remind me of you.  They are warm and bright.  They remind me of sunshine.  They remind me of your smile.  Though a flower cannot really do you any justice.”

Stepping closer to him, you bashfully looked away.

“I wish I had something to give you, Cas.”

He stepped forward, pulling you in close to himself as he swayed your bodies to the faint music in the background.

“This is all I could ever ask for, (Y/N).  I am not exactly 100% sure on this human custom, but I do believe I must ask you a question.”

“Sure thing, Cas.  What is it?”

He smiled down at you.  “Will you be my Valentine?”

You grinned, nearly giggling, feeling like a schoolgirl as he continued to sway the both of you to the music.

“It is no trouble, Castiel.”

He shared your grin, dancing with you until the wee hours of the morning, the both of you peppering each other’s faces with sweet, tender kisses.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

In Chains (Chapter Four) Rusty Chains (Trafalgar Law)

Samira rocked her rounded hips to a foreign tune as she waited for the timer to activate on the dryer. It wasn’t hard work, despite her broken arm, but the quantity of dirty clothing made her head spin in doubt. She had never seen a pile so immense, and yet accustomed to the simple mechanics of the machine – Shachi taught her the effective way to use it – the pile never came to be done.

A curse, she alleged. The clothes had to be. How else were they amassing? Samira panted and brushed her lengthy white hair over her shoulder. It was sticky and musty beneath the engine room. Take away the music and she was confident that sooner or later she’d lose her mind.

In regards, Samira pressed the button to replay the piece once it ended. She resumed her dancing as the notes poured from the opening of the shark eye. Remarkable, this device was. Samira had never seen one before; Shachi called it a tone dial, a moon shaped shell decorated with russet bands that recorded sound and replayed it back. He revealed to her – when she asked – that a member of his crew bought the foreign dial at a merchant stall. It came preset with the tune, but could be recorded over if ever they found a piece better suited to their tastes. She hoped not; she honestly liked this tune. It lured her to dance.

The timer on the dryer went off with a loud buzz, and Samira returned to her work. She fished out the toasty polyester boiler suits and dumped them into a large rolling cart, then put in another soggy batch from the washer. Swaying over to the amassing pile on the floor, she gathered as much as her arms could tote, intending to wash another load, but a noise caught her attention.

Samira turned towards the stairs and saw Ikkaku there, watching her with a canny smile.

“Oh! I wasn’t aware you were standing there.” Samira laughed softly and filled the washer. She played off her shock incredibly well; her heart was honestly pounding.

Ikkaku ambled over and leaned against the machine. “Sorry for that, but I didn’t want to interrupt. You dance extremely well.”

“That … oh, that was just me swaying from side to side. There’s an entire dance that goes along with it,” she explained.

Samira was not timid when it came to music and dance. Her mother taught her plenty about the world; traditions and lore. Her favorite was learning the various styles of dance – she’d perform them in front of the people of her homestead. The one Ikkaku caught her doing was invented by her country.

“An entire dance, huh? Ya got to show me some time,” said woman chirped.

Samira agreed and leaned against the machine next to Ikkaku. She got along fine with said woman; they shared an honest sized room, and with the brief time given, they became quick friends. Samira didn’t reveal much about herself, other than her dislike of the crew’s uniforms, but Ikkaku didn’t share much with her either. She wanted to know how such an amiable woman came to be a pirate, but like herself, thought that whatever reason she had was her own business.

“Are these clothes cursed? They seem to be growing.”

Ikkaku gave her a look of shock, then laughed. “Almost seems that way, doesn’t it? But, no. Some of the crew in the engine room go through uniforms quicker than the others, so they dump them into the chute and they amass down here. Shachi did ya real dirty, making ya do this chore; though it’s better than others.”

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him again,” Samira huffed.

She would honestly like to see that; fortunately, she would. “We’re expected to reach the next island soon; a place called the Crocus Sea. Ask nicely and the Captain may let you come with us.”

“I’m certain he will,” Samira said darkly.

Law swore to hand her over to the authorities upon reaching the island. She knew nothing about him, but she assumed he was true to his word. Her heart filled with dread. Was there no way to sway his decision? Perhaps ask him to let her go. Samira hadn’t seen Law, or heard from him since he dispatched her from his care; her arm was evidently fine enough for him not to worry about.

“About how long do you suppose it will take to reach the island?”

Ikkaku hummed in thought. “Not sure, but trust me, you will know it when we get there.”

“Mester (mister) Trafalgar stays mostly in his room, correct? I need to speak with him about something.”

She wittingly smiled. “Remember to be nice.”

Samira agreed with a brief nod and hurried up the stairs. The engine room was vacant as she ambled down the narrow walkway, a rattling web of various metal devices at both her sides, but the air was still hot and sticky. She felt a significant difference as she excited the room and moved up a second flight of stairs. This set opened up into the crew bunks, the exact area she needed to be in. Law had a room at the end of the hall – thank the gods that Shachi gave her a tour, at least of the bottom levels.

The same hatch door Samira involuntarily spent time behind came into view. She stood in front of it for a moment, hesitant to knock, but the eager part of her, wanting to get this over with, brought down her fist in a series of gentle knocks. She waited patiently for Law to allow her in, then did so as he directed.

Law was seated at his desk, combing through a thick book; its title she couldn’t read. His eyes hardly lifted from its pages, but she knew that he was paying attention.

It surprised her even less that Law already knew why she was visiting him.

“Worried about my intentions with you?”

Samira sighed. “At first, of course, but I know that your plans for me have not changed. I came to ask for your permission to join the crew when they go onto the island.”

“Do you take me for an idiot?”

She grunted and shook her head. “I assumed that you’d come along, and I … will stay by your side the entire time.”

“That is something we can agree on. You can join us,” Law affirmed. He sat the book down on the desk top and grinned. “But under one condition.”

Samira narrowed her eyes. He agreed promptly; too promptly in her opinion. It crossed her mind that maybe he wanted her to ask, but Samira wasn’t for sure. She was concerned, but agreed nonetheless.

“The island we’re heading to is mostly uncharted. Its magnetic waves aren’t strong enough to record with a Log Pose, so on our way across the Grand Line, we paid it no mind. I have reason to believe that something of interest to me is on that island, but I also believe the island to be dangerous, therefore if you intend to tag along, I demand that you wear a suit,” he explained.

She pouted in defeat. “I should get ready then. Mutasakkir ‘awi (thank you very much).”

Samira dismissed herself, averse to the whole idea – mostly because of the bounty; partially because she strongly disliked the boiler suits. In any case, she needed to speak with Ikkaku before they surfaced.

--

“Told ya so,” Ikkaku hollered.

Despite her raising her voice over the alarm, Samira could not hear her. It howled across the sub like a monkey for a few minutes, then all at once ended. A sonorous voice replaced it, notifying the crew that the Polar Tang was surfacing. Samira removed her hands from her ears and gave Ikkaku an eager look.

“Can we go up now?”

She laughed. “Aye. The sub will resurface by the time we reach the upper level.”

Samira lurched forward with the first step – the leather boots she was given were heavy and hard to move around in – but steadied herself as she followed the teasing woman from their bunk. She witnessed a small number of the crew scurry from their shared rooms; some heading towards the engine room, and some heading up to the next level. Samira took the stairs and closely walked behind Ikkaku as she led the way. She had been on the upper level a few times with Shachi; its where the crew ate breakfast and dinner, an extensive galley with a fridge and well stocked pantry were also on this level.

There was even a large hatch double door that Samira was curious about. She never asked Shachi where it led, but she had an idea. It was wide open as she and Ikkaku made it to the top of the stairs; rays of warm and natural light leaked in. She smiled in excitement. They were at last outside.

Samira walked out onto the deck and took a deep breath. The fresh air was marvelous; it was thick and humid, but superb compared to the stale air inside the sub.

“Nice, don’t ya think?”

She agreed with Ikkaku and leaned back her head to glance up at the evening sky. The length of hair braided over her shoulder fell down her back as she did so. “Feels like forever since I’ve seen the sky. I don’t know how any of you can tolerate that muggy submarine for long periods of time.”

“You get used to it after so long,” Ikkaku mentioned. She looked around and sighed in disappointment. Her crewmates were fast at work, expecting one another to contribute. “I should help out, but explore if you want to. I don’t think the Captain will mind as long as you stay within his line of sight.”

Samira thanked her and walked over to the side of the sub. A black wrought iron railing kept her from tumbling into the swampy water below, yet she was careful not to lean over it as she peered down at the frame of the sub. Her eyes widened in shock. It was larger than she thought; a dynamic yellow craft that barely cracked the surface. She spotted the emblem on the far-left side, the same smiling face Law wore printed on his hoodie; the same emblem printed on her uniform. It bothered her that she couldn’t remember where she had seen it before. It was so unusual.

“What’s on your mind, Amunet-ya?”

She lurched in fear, then gave Law a glare. “Don’t sneak up on me. You about made me fall over.”

“I doubt that,” he stated. “But had you fallen in; you would have surely drowned.”

Samira pouted. “Some doctor you are. Wouldn’t even save me if I were to fall in.”

“Does that mean you can’t swim?”

She thought about it for a moment. No. She supposed that she never learned. “My country doesn’t have a lot of rivers or lakes, and the few it does have, well … it’s not safe to swim in them.”

Law rested against the railing in thought. That didn’t tell him much. Suppose he did toss her overboard. Would she sink, or swim? He was well aware of her wondering eyes on him.

“You’re staring,” he told her.

Samira felt her cheeks heat up. “I don’t mean to, but I don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything but a hoodie since I’ve been aboard your sub.”

He was dressed in a sea foam colored jacket with yellow linked bands over an open vest with a hood and a light gray shirt. Samira caught a glimpse of ink peeking out from the neck of his crew cut, but opted not to comment about it; most people had tattoos.  

“We’re venturing into a tropical moist forest, Amunet-ya. My choice of attire is not really your concern,” he retorted.

She agreed. “It’s not. I was making an observation is all.”

“Then you’re aware that your arms are supposed to go into the sleeves of the boiler suit?”

Samira rolled her eyes. Yeah, she knew. There was nothing wrong with tying them around her waist. She was wearing the damned thing, wasn’t she? Plus, she wore a loose-fitting shirt with bell sleeves to protect her arms.

“I can’t fit my cast through the armholes.”

Law grinned in enjoyment. “Then don’t cry to me when you get eat up by insects.”

“Tozz fiik (screw you),” she hissed.

He snorted. “Speak in a language that I can understand, Amunet-ya. I’d hate to exclude you from the party before you ever left the sub.”

“Aye, Meister (mister) Trafalgar,” she retorted with a pout.

She peered over the railing again. The sub appeared to be drifting down a wide bending river with an abundance of plant life on each side.

“Where is this river taking us?”

Law thought about keeping this information from her – she was all in all a visitor aboard his sub – but decided to keep her informed because she was going with them.

“The sub is moving to the other side of the island, but the plan is for us to disembark before then. Our helmsman will steer out to sea and watch for my signal to circle around and pick us back up,” Law explained slowly. “I told you earlier that the Log Pose can’t read the magnetic waves of the Crocus Sea because they’re too low, however on the island is different. The magnetic waves are exponentially higher.”

Samira understood to an extent. She knew a bit about navigating, forced to travel the sea on her own for some time. Once on an island, the Log Pose would reset. The given time in which this took varied.

“How long do you think it will take for the Log Pose to reset?”

Law was frank. “I don’t know enough about the island to answer that. You will need to be ready when I give the signal; we don’t intend to stop.”

“What’s the signal?”

She grunted in annoyance as he walked away, leaving her alone with unanswered questions. Samira mouthed a curse at him and continued her survey of the ship. At this time the crew had the sails lowered; two masts on the front and back levels of the deck showed the extent of the billowing wind. She watched them for a minute until her name was called; Shachi waved at her from the front deck, but remembering how dirty he did her, Samira playfully turned up her nose and ignored him. She didn’t catch his reaction, but she heard Ikkaku laugh as she stood beside her.

“Serves him right,” she chirped happily. “Keep this up, and he’ll be reduced to a blathering mess by the end of the day.”

Samira lifted her hand to her mouth and laughed. “He absolutely deserves it, but I hope he doesn’t take this too seriously.”

“He’ll be fine … come on; the party is meeting up top.” Ikkaku took her hand and led her back through the double hatch doors and back into the sub.

At the other end of the galley was a set of identical doors that opened up onto the upper deck. A small group of four were stationed there. Shachi and Penguin were among them – the latter she met shortly after Law released her from his care – including the doctor himself and a white bear wearing an orange boiler suit; it carried a large sword over its shoulder.

“Is the bear real?”

Samira was in awe. She had never seen a beast so cute in her entire life.

“As real as you and me, and he talks. His name is Bepo. You haven’t yet met him, because he mostly stays in the control room. He’s our navigator,” Ikkaku explained.

She quietly squealed and rocked her hips from side to side.

“He’ll be thrilled to hear that you aren’t scared of him,” the pirate mentioned with a smile. “He tends to get depressed easily, so if you speak to him, remember that.”

Samira frowned. Why ever would she be scared of him? Her country was filled with frightening beasts and terrible people. She doubted that Bepo was anything like them.

“Get ready to go ashore,” Law called out, breaking her thoughts.

She witnessed him walk over to the railing near the back of the deck and bounce something tiny and spherical in his hand. Samira looked to the horizon and noticed a small ship anchored near the bank. It was clearly a pirate ship. No one seemed to be on it though. Had it been abandoned? She barely had time to think before she was swallowed by a clear blue dome. Seconds later, she was staring at the Polar Tang as it sailed on by.

What just happened? Samira took an unsteady step and franticly glanced around. She and the others were on the deck of the abandoned pirate ship. But how?

“You okay, Samira?”

Said woman lurched forward in shock and gave Ikkaku a bemused look. “We were just on the sub. How did we get here?”

“Our captain has Devil Fruit powers,” she easily explained.

Devil Fruit powers?

“I don’t know what that means,” Samira replied. She had never heard of such a thing. Did Law really move them from one area to another with this power?

Ikkaku hummed in thought. “I don’t know too much about them myself, but some people even claim the eater of a Devil Fruit is cursed until death. The Captain would know more about it though.”

“Cursed … like me,” she uttered.

She and Law had more in common then she originally thought. Her eyes moved to said man as he spoke privately with Shachi and Bepo. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt connected to him somehow. Like heavy rusted chains were wrapped around them.

--

Bepo curled up his nose in disgust. The smell was too strong to ignore. He easily located the source as soon as his captain moved them onto the ship.

“It’s the same, isn’t it?”

Shachi knew he didn’t have to ask. It looked the same, a dart attached to a base that was shaped like the head of a frog. But what was it doing here? Lodged in the mast. And where was the crew? Penguin was still searching the insides of the ship as Law ordered as a precaution.

“Can you track the scent, Bepo? We need to find the crew,” Law directed.

Said bear whined in protest. “I can, but it stinks horribly.”

“Your nose will save us some time,” Shachi mentioned, nearly shoving the dart into his face. “So, suck it up buttercup and get to tracking.”

Bepo crooked his head and apologized. He coughed as the bitter smell invaded his nose. The scent went further into the forest.

“Northeast; that’s the strongest and most recent trail.”

Law sighed. He was hoping to find them closer to their ship. His eyes moved across the deck to Samira; she appeared distracted, staring at him in thought.

A grin curved his lips.

Soon Amunet-ya. Real soon.