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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

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Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

#you ask i answer #ktk rec ‘21 #ktk rec #ktk fic rec #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #mob!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!steve #dark!steve x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic rec #mob!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob!chris evans

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super-island-edits · 2 years

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“YAHOO! Another firework disappeared into the sky!”

Hi hi y’all I’m mod Ibuki but you could call me Zoey if ya’ want! I’m on everyday so I’ll be around often!

More info under the cut :D

💗 More About Me:

I’m 13 and swamped with homework so please be patient! /pos

My main pronouns are she/her but I also use cute/cute or pink pronouns! My Main blog is here!

💗 Things I can edit for!:

Danganronpa (all games)

Turning Red

Undertale/Deltarune

Coraline

Gorillaz

Total Drama (only up to season 5!)

My Hero Academia

Demon Slayer

Avatar the Last Airbender

Vocaloid

Five Nights At Freddy’s (Only security breach!)

Bendy and The Ink Machine

Haikyuu!!

Apex Legends

Kingdom Hearts

Sanrio

Animal Crossing

Mystic Messenger

Obey Me: One Master to Rule Them All!

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Stranger Things

Carmen Sandiego (2019 version)

Naruto (selective and shippuden only!)

Legend of Zelda (I’ve only played botw so no major spoilers plz!)

Any Ghibli Movie

Doki Doki Literature Club

Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

Pokemon

Adventure Time

My Little Pony

Lupin the Third

💗 Types of edits I do!:

Icons

Headers

Moodboards

Playlists

Doodles

Pendulum Readings

Tarot Readings

💗 Blacklist!:

Irl things (ex. actors outside characters, dsmp, real people)

Countryhumans

Yansim

Chris, Chef, Scott, Courtney, Gwen, Dakota, Sam, Jo (Total drama)

Lore Olympus (I’ll only post that stuff on my main blog)

Yanderes in general!

Sanscest shippers

Madrigalcest shippers

Any 4*town member x anyone

Paula Cracker (Gorillaz)

Rika, V, Saeran (Mystic Messenger)

Lilith, Luke (Obey Me)

Sun x Moon (Fnaf)

Mr.B (Coraline)

Any “ugly” considered villager (Animal Crossing)

Mike or Will x anyone, The Mind Flayer (Stranger Things)

Tsukasa, Mistuba, Sakura (Tbhk)

Len or Ren x anyone, Miku x anyone (Vocaloid)

Any Haikyuu!! ship

The king, Toriel, Chara, Flowey (Deltarune/Undertale)

Any bnha ship that isn’t Ochamina (they just make me uncomfy)

Ozai, Sokka x anyone (Bc of his heartbreaks ;-; ATLA)

Saiouma, Tenko x men, Ultra Despair Girls, Korekiyo, Mikan, Junko (Danganronpa)

Ice king, any adventure time ships for the time being

Steven Universe

Any adultish tv show (ex. American Dad, Family Guy)

Eddsworld (only for my main blog and highly selective)

She-ra (New and old)

Salad fingers (the gore and character just make me uncomfy)

💗 Whitelist!:

4*town, Priya (Turning Red)

Hanako x Yashiro (Tbhk)

Ochako x Mina, Denki, Fatgum, Kirishima, Bakugo, Tsuyu (Bnha)

Roxy x Chica, Monty, Sundrop (fnaf)

Mike + Personalities (total drama)

Alice angel, Boris (Batim)

Zack, Player, Ivy, Graham (Carmen Sandiego)

Enmu, Doma, Uzui Tengen, Mitsuri, Nezuko

Judy, Raymond, Kabuki, Isabel, Brewster, Rover (Animal Crossing)

Sokka, Zuko, Suki, Toph, Ty Lee (Atla)

Steve, Will, Max, Eleven (Stranger Things)

2D, Ace, Noodle (Gorillaz)

Ibuki, Kokichi, Gundham, Kazuichi (Danganronpa)

Natsuki, Monika (doki doki)

Howl, Ponyo, Calcifer, Souske, Ponyo’s Parents (Ghibli)

Leviathan, Mammon, Beel, Asmo (Obey me)

707, Zen (Mystic Messenger)

Sans, Papyrus, Mettaton, Spamton, Ralsei, Susie, Kris (Undertale/Deltarune)

Octane, Bloodhound (Apex Legends)

Deidara, Naruto, Kiba, Shikamaru, Itachi, Kakashi (Naruto)

Miku, Len, Galaco (Vocaloid)

Sugawara, Tanaka, Bokuto (Haikyuu!!)

Wybie, Other Father (Coraline)

Sora (Kingdom Hearts

Jack Skellington, Sally (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Link, Revali, Mask Kid (Legend of Zelda)

Scenecore, Weirdcore, Royalcore, Dark Academia (Aesthetics)

Any pokemon swsh character (excluding Rose)

Any character from lupin the third (Excluding villains)

Marshall Lee, Cake, Princess Bubblegum, Marceline

#mod ibuki💗🎸#Good nom-nom-nomming! ; request accepted!💗🎸#But it was super pitch black! ; request denied!💗🎸

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thesoldiersminute · 2 years

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So, as I previously mentioned I will be doing a challenge for reaching 3k followers. This time however it is going to be different because instead of me, you will be the one creating content. Blogs can join this challenge and share their work by either tagging me or using my usertag #usershelby. To join you can do whatever; write a fic make a mood board or a gif set – all up to you. You can join the challange until 31th March

For gifs/edits/moodboards creators:

A character you wish you can bring back

Favorite location

A scene that made you hate a character

Character + color

Favorite platonic/romantic relationship

Favorite season

And prompts for fic writers. Since I love, dark, depressing, violent and heartbreaking stuff, I am hoping to see a lot of that. The more angsty and dramatic the better. You can pick one of the prompts below and if nothing inspires you, I’m sure you can up with something good on your own. It can be Canon fics, Reader stories, whatever you want. Prompts:

1. I need my children to grow up hating the thought of me. 2. I sacrificed everything for you 3. I don’t know who I am anymore 4. I’d never turn on my family, I’m not my father 5. I beg you. You had mercy before. Don’t do this 6. We can’t allow our hearts to be louder than our reasons 7. Nothing more dangerous than a guy who knows he’s already dead. 8. I would give everything to feel nothing again. 9. Monsters don’t get to live happily ever after 10. If the Gods are fucking you, you find a way to fuck them back. 11. Lambs go to slaughter. A man, he learns when to walk away. @maggiescarborough 12. If you can quote the rules, then you can obey them. 13. More is lost by indecision than by wrong decision. 14. Death just shows the ultimate absurdity of life. 15. Can't live with her, can't kill her. 16. We're just better human beings when with the person we're supposed to be with. 17. It was not our fault but mine 18. Is there anything you love so much, you’d protect it, no matter the cost, the damage it did to you? @amysteryspot 19. I need you to stay close to me 20. You are the only person I have left. @madame-wilsonn, @retromafia 21. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me. @peakyswritings 22. I didn't mean to ruin your life. @runnning-outof-time 23. You will have to learn to live with the monster you made 24. i'm one of those bad things that happen to good people 25. kill me right now then, i dare you @noforkingclue 26. You were never supposed to find out. 27. I did not like this feeling of having feelings.

Some new prompt(s):

28. Did my Daddy do bad things? @celticmelody

You can join the challange by sending me an ask, telling me what you want to do. I will then make a masterpost with all the lovely content you created :). Tagging some mutals below: @edmundo-diaz @retromafia @tatianapetrovna @celticmelody @sophieshelby @tommyxgrace-always @violaobanion @peakyv @twvstedsouls @peakyswritings @smallheathgangsters @madame-wilsonn @httpxshelby1 @rhaenystheboneless @caelys @deepdonutkid @blinder-secrets @amysteryspot @whiskeypowder @theshelbyclan @bonniesgoldengirl

#3k celebration

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super-stim · 3 years

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Introducing

I’m Mod Korekiyo and here are some of my rules also I will make a trigger warning if something triggers you please tell me in an ask. If I don't like the way a stimboard looks I won't do it so if I don't do it in a day or two I'll let you know

dni if you are

pedo

terf

racists

incest supporters

lgbtq phobic

things I do

Stimboards

Moodboards

Wallpaper

Icons

Playlists

Self care boards

Pride icons

Fandoms

Danganronpa

persona 3

Persona 4

Persona 5

final fantasy 7

Final fantasy 7 crisis core

Final fantasy 10

Final fantasy 13

Final fantasy 13-2

Corpse party

Sally face

Ddlc

Obey me

Horror movies

Soul eater

Mha

Mystic messenger

Seven deadly sins (the anime)

Jjba

Dragon ball z/super

Hunipop

Whitelist characters

Danganronpa: Chihiro Fujisaki, Toko, Fukawa, Aoi Ashina, Mikan Tsumiki, Gundham Tanaka, peko Pekoyama, Sonia nevermind, Kaede Akamatsu, Korekiyo shinguji, Miu Iruma, tenko chabashira.

Persona: Mitsuru Kirijo, akihiko sanada, shinjiro aragaki, chidori yoshino,kanji tatsumi, naoto Shirogane, tohru adachi, Ryuji sakamoto, yusuke kitagawa, Futaba Sakura, Haru okumura, goro akechi, sae nijima

Final fantasy: aerith Gainsborough, cloud strife, Zack fair, genesis, Vincent valentine, tifa, sephiroth, Reno, Yuna, auron, lulu, Seymour, lightning, vanille, hope, fang, serah, noel, caius, yuel.

All of the other fandoms I love all of the characters.

Blacklist

Hifimi yamada

Teru teru

Alessi

Kamoshida

#intro

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heartagram-vv · 1 month

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Obey me Mammon moodboard

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voca-kin-edits · 3 years

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Mod Kaito intro

Hello, everyone I'm mod Kaito, but you can also call me Hunter. You can find my info under the cut

(about the mod)

I use he/they

I'm 18 years old but please don't be weird about it

I'm a bisexual polyam

My top kins are Mikan, Kaito, Ryuji, Stein, yuuya kizami, to name a few but I have more

My main blog is @danganronpa-fangirl1 and my edit blog is @super-stim

What I do

icons

headers

wallpapers

moodboards

playlists

stimboards

self-care boards

Personal blacklist

Toxic ships (yuuya x yuka, toko x byuakuya, mikan x junko

tenko x males

ha**i towa

korekiyos sister

hifumi yamada

teruteru hanamura

romantic rinlen

romantic things with oliver

anything nsfw

kamoshida

alessi

Personal whitelist

Kamui Gakupo

mikan tsumiki

Kaede akamatsu

Aoi Asahina

Gore akechi

Stein

yuuya kizami

Aizawa

Seiko

Korekiyo shinguji

Tohru Adachi

Yuri

Jolyne Kujo

Bruno

Pesci

Yukako Yamagishi

Kira Yoshikage

Cioccolata

Yumeko Yumeno

Sephiroth

sources

Persona 3

persona 4

persona 5

corpse party

ddlc

soul eater

mha

vocaloid

jojo's bizarre adventure

kakeguri

mystic messenger

final fantasy 7

obey me

final fantasy 10

final fantasy 13

final fantasy 13-2

danganronpa trigger happy havoc

dangaronpa 2 goodbye despair

danganronpa v3 killing harmony

danganronpa ultra despair girls

Tags I use

mod kaito speaks

Mod kaito request (accepting a request)

Mod Kaito denied (Denying a request)

Mod kaito having fun (self indulgent)

#mod kaito speaks

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years

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The Celtic Princess Chapter 1

A/N: Totally thought this was posted? Apparently not? XD Anyway, hope you guys like it.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,708

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

Ivar remembered seeing Kiora when he was a child. Her father brought her along with her older brother, Tadgh, when they visited Kattegat, shortly before Ragnar sailed for Paris. Her father, King Esca, was a Celtic king that wanted the raiding to end in his land and proposed a treaty. Before an alliance could be formed, Ragnar disappeared after Paris, the last they heard about him was his death at the hands of King Aelle. Esca passed soon after Ragnar, leaving Tadhg as king and Kiora in his care.

While Ivar and Kiora were mere children and their interactions brief, as Ivar remembered it, he always found himself thinking about her from time to time, even once he became king himself and married Freydis. But with Fredyis’ future as queen and Ivar’s wife hung in the balance, his eye wandered. He didn't stop himself from looking at the other slaves and women that passed through the hall, even in her presence. The fights between husband and wife were routine at night, often ending with Ivar storming out, or crawling if he was so angry he didn't care about his braces, and the slaves picking up the shards of broken bowls and things that Freydis had thrown at him.

In the weeks that followed, King Tadhg sent a messenger to try to broker another alliance between the two young kings. 10 years since their first meeting, Ivar would once again come face to face with the Celtic princess.

As Kiora’s boat came to dock alongside her brother’s she looked over Kattegat and gave a small smirk. It looked bigger than it did when she was a child. There were more houses that lined the forest and the market seemed to have grown as well. Tadhg appeared at her side, holding out a hand to her. She turned to her brother and gave him a sweet smile, taking his hand and stepping off the boat. While Tadhg was married, his wife, Davan, fell into step behind the siblings as she was not yet crowned as queen. As such, Kiora held a higher position over her and walked beside Tadhg as they were escorted through the market and the town until they came to the hall, where they waited to be escorted inside.

Once the doors opened, Ivar couldn’t help the smile that jumped across his face when he saw Kiora. She was a rather gangly child, but he always loved her eyes; The way the green emeralds glittered and shined. Freydis glanced at her husband before giving the princess a brief glower as Tadhg bowed his head to Ivar and Freydis with respect. Kiora did the same if only to hide the smirk from seeing Ivar so happy to see her. She knew his eyes were on her the entire time because she couldn’t seem to look away from him either. Ivar had grown into quite a handsome man. She had heard that the crippled son of Ragnar Lothbrok now walked and from the braces on his legs and the crutch in his hand as he stood made that rumor quite clear.

“King Ivar,” Tadhg said, rather graciously. Ivar chuckled and made his way down from his throne, waving for the blonde woman next to him to remain seated. This woman glared at Kiora so fierce, she wondered if she had done something wrong simply by walking in. She’d never seen this woman before, not even a recollection from when she was last here. The hatred this woman seemed to have for her didn't stop her from accepting Ivar’s embrace and kiss as his lips brushed across her cheek.

“Tadhg. Kiora. It has been too long.” Ivar said. “I am glad to see you both are well. And I am sorry for the loss of your father, King Esca.”

Kiora bowed her head and said, “Thank you, my King.” She looked him over and couldn’t help but skew her lips in a smirk as she said, “Glad to see you’ve outgrown your little cart.”

Tadhg gave his sister a warning look, but Ivar simply chuckled and took her hand, bending to kiss it. “And you’ve not changed at all, Kiora.” He said. He looked down at her as he stood straight and said, “And now I’m the taller of us.”

Kiora chuckled as Ivar went back to his throne, casting a glance at Freydis. Kiora noticed the subtle change in his face, more so his eyes. They held the same distaste that Freydis held for Kiora. Motioning to her, Ivar said, rather unenthusiastically, “My wife. Freydis.”

Tadhg bowed his head to her, stepping up with his hand outstretched and said, “My Queen.”

Freydis gave him a small smile and allowed him to take her hand to kiss it before he stepped back beside Kiora. Ivar held out his hands, and in a booming voice, he said, “King Tadhg, Princess Kiora and their kin are welcome here! If any man holds resentment for these Celts, it shall be handled between myself and King Tadhg! There is to be no bloodshed while they are here!”

The hall roared to life, Tadhg and Kiora glancing around at the men and women that had gathered in the hall with them. Both Tadhg and Ivar knew there were at least a few men and families with grudges against the Celts from battles passed and while Tadhg ensured that none of those men accompanied them, he had no control over how the Vikings felt about their presence in Kattegat.

“If anything happens to the Celtic King or those in his company, consequences shall be given. Ragnar made peace with the Celts before. There were no such objections and there will be none now.” Ivar called, making the hall go silent. Kiora couldn’t keep the pride from her face as she watched this manhandle his people. She remembered Ragnar wielded the same power of presence and it was clear that his son inherited the same. When the people remained quiet, showing their silent obedience, Ivar waved them away as he motioned for Tadhg to come to him. Tadhg obeyed, stepping up and bending down so Ivar could say, quietly in his ear, “I should like you and your sister to join me for dinner tomorrow tonight.”

“With you and the Queen?” Tadhg asked, softly, casting a glance to Freydis as he straightened a little to face Ivar. Ivar didn’t even glance in her direction before shaking his head and saying, “No. Alone. I shall send a slave when you are ready.”

Tadhg crossed an arm over his chest and stepped back before turning to Kiora and giving her a look.

“What have I done?” She asked as she turned to follow him out of the hall.

“You must remember your place, Sister. Ivar has a wife. You are not children any longer.” Tadhg said. Kiora let out a soft scoff, rolling her eyes as she let the conversation drop for the time being.

The night went on, the feast was had and every Celt and Viking enjoyed in the festivities and each other; drinking, fighting and laughing. Kiora sat next to Tadhg, Davan beside her, while Freydis sat beside Ivar, the two kings next to each other. Their usual feasts took place in the hall, but for such an occasion, one both their fathers wanted to see happen, Ivar allowed Tadhg’s request to have it out among the people, complete with a roaring fire for their women to dance around. Soon enough, the women of Kattegat joined their Celt sisters, each chanting in their language to the gods.

Once the men joined, Davan excused herself from Kiora’s conversation and took her husband’s hand, leading him to the fire and beginning to dance. Ivar turned to Freydis and whispered something to her that made her glare at him, leaning away from him. Ivar sat back and turned to Kiora with a smile. He called to her, “Kiora. Come sit by me.”

Freydis gave a soft huff and stood, hurriedly making her way back to the hall. Kiora turned to him and smiled, switching seats. Ivar smirked and pushed a few curls behind her ear as she looked up at him.

“Tell me, Ivar.” Kiora started with a sweet smile. “When did you start walking?”

Ivar chuckled, as did she, and reached for his cup to take a sip. Balancing the cup on his knee he said, “Back in York. About a year ago, now.”

With a soft chuckle, Kiora said, “And I bet I can still outrun you.”

Ivar snickered and said, “On foot perhaps. But not on horseback, my sweet Kia.” Ivar brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek and smiled. They met more than once as children, as Esca sailed back to Kattegat, hoping to find Ragnar and continue their talk of an alliance, but when he found only Aslaug, Bjorn and the 4 little Ragnarssons, he was much dismayed. With permission from Aslaug, Esca stayed an extra day to let his men rest from a long trip. 5 years since they first met, Kiora only caught a passing glance at the youngest Lothbrok, as he slithered around with his brothers. A passing glance for her, but Ivar drank in every sight of her he could. She had grown from a small child of 8 to a young woman of 13. While Tadhg was the only other one to call her Kia, Ivar took a liking to the name, often using it to tease her as he and his brothers chased her down through the streets of Kattegat, Ivar’s cart rumbling as he shouted at her from it.

Kiora’s face softened a touch at the name and leaned closer to say, softly, “Tadhg hardly calls me that anymore. Only when he truly means it.” Ivar chuckled and said, “Then you are my Kia, and only mine.”

Kiora chuckled and shook her head. She knew the look in his eye, she’d seen it in many men back in Ireland. She looked at him and said, “Ivar, you have a wife. You are married. I belong to no one.”

Ivar shrugged and said, “Soon.” When Kiora tilted her head, giving him a questioning look, he simply chuckled and took another sip of his ale, watching his people and hers dance.

“How did you find the king?” Tadhg asked as he watched Kiora braid her hair. Kiora glanced at him with a small smile and said, “Very changed. He’s a man now. No longer the sniveling little boy that chased me from his cart.”

Tadhg chuckled at the memory and nodded in agreeance. “That he is.” Tadhg shifted and gave a soft sigh, waving one of his slaves over to pour him more ale. “I’ve heard rumors about him, Kia.”

Kiora paused her braiding for a moment, slightly taken aback by the nickname, and glanced at him as she tied her last braid off. “What have you heard?” She asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve heard his wife, Freydis has convinced him he’s a god,” Tadhg said. Kiora blinked and turned to her brother fully.

“A god,” Kiora repeated in shock. “Why would she do such a thing?”

Tadhg shrugged and stood. “I do not know. But it seems as though ever since he married Freydis, things have changed.” He said. Glancing over his shoulder at his sister, he added, “You are aware she had a child?”

“His child?” Kiora questioned at the addition. Tadhg smirked into his cup as he turned away. Kiora stood from the bench she sat on and said, “Was she pregnant before they married?”

“No. She was a slave before Ivar freed her. Apparently,” He cast a glance to the slave girl at his side, “According to the rumors, she made him believe with just his blood she could conceive a child, a god’s child.”

“He made no mention of a child, his or otherwise,” Kiora said. Tadhg turned back to her and set down his cup shaking his head. Bracing his hands on the table in front of him he said, “They found the child in the wild. Left for the wolves. They say it was disfigured.”

Kiora put a hand to her chest and gave a small sigh. “How did it get left in the wild?” She asked. When Tadhg didn't answer with the same quickness as he gave the others, Kiora tilted her head and stepped closer to him. “How, Tadhg? Why won’t you tell me?”

Tadhg looked at his sister and said, “Do you still want to love him?” Kiora straightened, surprised by the suggestion. But she couldn’t cover up her shock, as she stumbled over herself to say, “Who-What makes you think that? I’ve met him all but once.”

“Twice.” Tadhg corrected. Kiora shook her hand and waved her hand at him, dismissively, as she turned away from him. “In passing.” She said. “I never spoke to him.”

She stood by the fire for a moment, arms crossed over her chest before she turned to him and asked, “Is she going to get in the way of this alliance?”

“She shouldn’t. Ivar doesn’t want her anymore, yet he cannot bring himself to divorce her.” Tadhg said, scooping up his cup to drain it dry. Kiora gave a soft snort and said, “Why doesn’t he just kill her then?”

“You could be killed yourself for such talk, Sister,” Tadhg said, giving her a look. “She is still Queen.”

“Yes, Brother.” She said, giving him a look back. “And I am the sister of the King. You are my blood. She is not blood, nor is she royalty.”

“It would not matter. If you anger Ivar, I cannot go against him. We do not have our men here, Kiora. We cannot fight them.” Tadhg said. “Keep your temper long enough for us to make allies of these Vikings.”

“And if I cannot?” She questioned. Tadhg gave her a hard look and said, “Then you will join Father sooner than you think.”

Kiora straightened, indignant at his blunt response, but knew he was right. Tadhg let his gaze linger on his sister a little longer to make his point before he moved from his place and said, “Get some rest, Kiora. We’ve a long stay in Kattegat.”

As Tadhg moved past her, he stopped to give her forehead a soft kiss, then headed to his room where his wife lay sleeping. Kiora didn’t move from her spot, but as she straightened and raised her chin, she asked again, “How did the child get left in the wild, Tadhg?”

Tadhg stopped in the doorway, giving a soft sigh before he, as well, repeated, “Get some rest, Kia.”

“So. How is the king?” Freydis asked as she brushed out her hair. Ivar sighed from his seat on their bed as his braces were removed and said, “As I remember him. Ever his father.”

Freydis gave a soft ‘Hmm’ then said, “And the princess?” Ivar turned to her, his face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Why are you pestering me with your questions, Freydis?” He asked. She tossed her brush onto the table and said, “Am I not still Queen? Should I not know these visitors that come seeking an alliance with us?”

“Not for much longer, my love.” Ivar sneered before turning his back to her. “I will find another to warm my bed in your place.”

“I am your wife and your Queen, Ivar. You cannot-” Freydis’ words were cut off by Ivar flying across the bed and clawing at her dress to bring her down to his level, holding her by her throat.

“You were nothing before me!” He hissed at her. “I freed you. I am the reason you are even queen at all! Do not speak to me this way or you’ll lose your place sooner than you think!”

Ivar launched her across the room before he crawled under the furs and glared at her. “You may find another room to sleep in tonight. It has been a very long day. Get out of my sight.”

Rubbing her neck, Freydis picked herself up and slowly made her way out of the room, leaving Ivar by himself.

Hope you guys liked it! Feel free to drop a comment! If you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

@tephi101 @fucktgisshitok @titty-teetee @captstefanbrandt @ivarslittlebadgirl @hail-kattegat @badwolf-in-the-impala @tgrrose @irishhiggins @i-war-s-boner @readsalot73 @thisisparadisemylove @capitanostella @noaor @somethingdawn @lol-haha-joke @meganjudee @tinypuppysoul @lovelydreamer-2000 @littlepanda-love @moondustmemories @imconfused28 @ivaraddict @kinzykittty @filthy-lil-thing @unicornbaby741 @thedevil-of-monterrey @chinduda @nomzcandi @ever-darkening @darling-nymph @franzi201070 @colie87 @derzauberermitlilabademantel @winchesterwife27 @londongal2810 @youbelongeverywhere

#Vikings #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar #Ivar The Boneless #Freydis #Alex Høgh Andersen #History Vikings #Vikings FanFic #Vikings Fic #Ivar Fan Fic #Ivar Fic

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radioromantic-moved · 4 years

Note

Asks 10-20 with Darkwing?~

ty again!! you didn’t need to send so many but also i’m happy you did thank you

10. When is your F/O’s birthday? wikipedia says the first darkwing duck episode aired september 6 so i’m gonna go with that. (hey that’s soon...i should celebrate somehow.)

11. Does your F/O know how to cook? If so are they good at it? drake is a Confirmed Good Cook by word of god (which is good because i am Not That. he keeps me from living off takeout and microwaveable meals.)

12. What is your F/O’s favorite flavor? i don’t have a reason for this per se but i feel like og drake would like savory things! dt17 drake might like sweet things though (because he is sweet).

13. If your F/O could be a fan of any video game what do you think it would be? he is an old school gamer through and through. which is to say he’d probably like mario and sonic but the originals. still can’t get the hang of the new stuff.

14. What type of aesthetic does your F/O have? i made a moodboard for him a while back that i feel like describes his aesthetic (or at least the way i see it) pretty well...city at night but also there’s cartoon physics to obey

15. What color are your F/O’s eyes? because of the way the show’s animated they’re drawn black but i like to think they’re kind of a periwinkle color...blueish purple. an unrealistic eye color but a pretty one.

16. Does your F/O have any tattoos? If not, do they like or hate the concept of tattoos? one side of my brain says “he’s a suburban dad, he wouldn’t have tattoos.” another side of my brain says “he’s a night-faring crime fighter, he’d totally have or want tattoos.” yet another side of my brain asks, “how would you tattoo feathers anyway?”

17. If you could have matching tattoos what would it be? he and i and launchpad each get one word of “let’s get dangerous” but then we fight over who gets “dangerous” because the other two make no sense on their own /j. honestly maybe like. a light side and dark side of the moon or something? cause good vs evil but we’re both goth

18. Does your F/O have any piercings? human drake should TOTALLY have pierced ears oh my god now i’m just gonna be thinking about that forever

19. Is your F/O a cake or pie person? gonna hazard a guess and say cake because it isn’t quite as funny when someone throws it in your face.

20. Is your F/O a morning or night person? 🎵swoops out of the shadows, darkwing of the night🎵

#while i was on wikipedia i also found out that his city's called st. canard cause canard is duck in french #still angry at myself for not putting that together #asks for me #ship: flirting with danger #cici

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years

Text

Walkers (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin / Jungkook

Creative Content Contributors: @baebae-goodnight it’s ya girl, and she’s back with another moodboard that perfectly captures the vibe of the fic.

Rating: PG-13 (strong concepts, dark concepts)

Word Count: 6,281

Genre: Fantasy / Sci-Fi; dystopian!AU, magic!AU

Description: There are some beings in the world who can walk in both this one and the next. They exist on two planes – one, the concrete land of buildings and people; the other, a shadowy landscape of dreams and blurred reality. Everyone thought they disappeared though, everyone thought they were gone. You thought this as well, until you began having the dreams.

Chapter Two: The Seer

With a noise like a zap, or a zonk, you burst out in a field.

Stumbling at the resurgence of gravity, you gasp out loud –

– only for Jimin to appear beside you, still tightly holding your hand.

Where he existed previous to now, you haven’t the faintest idea. His hand is grasped warmly in yours – it feels as though it always has been. You would have felt the weight of any disturbance and yet, you blink, disoriented by his appearance. It feels as though the entire universe has reshuffled or, perhaps your particles have reshuffled the world.

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps, letting go of you to drop his hands to his knees. His chest rises and falls with each breath; his forehead is rosy, dotted with sweat.

The removal of his hand is alienating and so, you stuff both of yours in your pockets – as though to hide all physical evidence of your loneliness.

This is when you realize, the world around you is purple.

Strange, varied hues of it – every shade and depth of the color imaginable. Your mouth gapes and you blink several times, as though to rid yourself of the visage. Each time that you do though, the scenery remains. Or – you can’t seem to grasp any empirical evidence otherwise, which means this must be the truth. Things without evidence are often lies. Turning around in a slow circle, your brain balks at the rejection of everything you once believed.

“Welcome to Lilac.”

With a start, Jimin’s voice reminds you that you are not alone on this planet. Glancing to him, you find Jimin has pushed himself upright; one arm of his leans lackadaisically against a tree – the trunk of which is the palest shade of lavender, in contrast to grape-colored leaves.

“I – what?” you gasp, a strangled sound.

No part of ‘Welcome to Lilac’ illuminates your situation – one second, you were in Jimin’s house and now, well, you have no idea. Taking a shaky step forward, you spread your hands in the air. Wriggling them experimentally, they seem to obey every order.

This all seems real, you must say. It’s just, you’ve never dreamt of such a beautiful world before. Only nightmares.

The sky above you is the color of night. Dark ink, swirled with onyx and in the middle are stamped two bright-colored suns. Overly so, they burn dusk-red on the horizon, illuminating the cavernous field that you stand in.

There are two suns in the sky, not one.

“Oh, my fucking god,” you whisper, unable to look away.

Pushing himself off of the tree, Jimin comes closer. “I know – it is a lot to take in, the first time that you travel. I remember back when I – hey! Whoa!” he yelps, when you fly suddenly towards him and begin to pummel his chest with your fists.

“Where the,” you gasp, punching Jimin as hard as you can in the side, “fuck,” another punch, this one to his elbow, “are we?”

The words are hissed between breath, intent upon beating the shit out of him – until you glance up and realize Jimin is no longer there. Jimin waves at you, off to the side and you frown in confusion, when you realize you have been punching at nothing.

Both your hands fall limp. “I – what just happened?”

Jimin laughs at your expression – actually laughs – which makes you think perhaps you were wrong, earlier. Maybe you are dreaming, because several hours prior, you thought the surly Walker not capable of such an emotion. But then a breeze wafts past you, carrying with it the faint tang of citrus and you wonder what kind of dreams are able to produce smell. Well, the scent is probably not citrus, you reason; just something like it. There’s no guarantee this world even has food; not in the human sense of the word.

Shivering, you realize this is the truth of things. This is another world. You are standing on another world, another planet and somehow, Jimin brought you here. Grass tickling your ankles, you take an uncertain step forward. The color of the grass is mauve, another strange shade and you bend, brushing fingertips over the top. It might be your imagination, but the wind seems to whisper in turn.

“What is this place?” you murmurs; this time, the question is asked in a much different tone.

Glancing up, you find Jimin already looking at you. “Lilac,” he repeats – though this, too, he says in a new way. “At least,” he frowns, “that’s what I call it. Not a very creative name, I know but there’s no word in our language. Or, if there is – it’s long been lost to our kind. I found Lilac by accident,” Jimin confesses, looking up at the suns. The wind whips his hair, stirring it into a frenzy. “We’ll be safe here, at least for a little while.”

Slowly, you stand, marveling when the bones in your body remain silent. The past few weeks, you have been barely able to sleep. Dark circles exist under your eyes, your joints creak hazily and each motion produces aches – but no longer.

“Jimin,” you start to say – then stop, considering the enormity of what you wish to ask. There are a billion questions to think of, but none presents itself as most important. “How did you get over there?”

Jimin pauses, before reappearing before you. “Magic,” he answers. Upon seeing your expression, he laughs and adds, “Perhaps you should sit down, while I explain.”

The suggestion seems arbitrary, since you are already halfway to lowering yourself to the ground. This is an odd fact about humans: significant news is often best-received from a seated position. The strange, mauve grass parts when you sit and from here, touching the ground, you look upwards at Jimin.

He settles before you as well, dark hair blown haphazardly over his features. It is odd, the wind of this planet. It doesn’t seem to come from any one direction, or even move in a discernable pattern. It plays with Jimin’s hair as one would with a friend – it touches yours curiously, as though in exploration. Frowning, you shove strands behind your ears in response.

Jimin seems more at ease – no, scratch that, he seems just more and perhaps this is the first time you believe what he says. Jimin is a Walker. He can travel between worlds and if that is true – perhaps what he said about you is true, as well.

Twining a blade of grass with his finger, Jimin frowns while considering where to begin. “I suppose it makes the most sense, starting with the concept of Blocks.”

“Blocks?” You find yourself unfamiliar with the word and, being a person unaccustomed to ignorance, you frown. It is not so much the word in itself, but rather the way Jimin says it – shaped by his lips, as an indication of magic.

He nods, still twirling the blade in his hand. “Magic exists, Y/N.” Jimin pauses, allowing this to sink in.

Rather than be shocked, as he clearly expected, you simply raise both your eyebrows. “That seems a bit obvious,” you say, “given we’re currently sitting on purple grass on another planet, right now.”

Jimin’s face twitches, as though wanting to laugh before he thinks better. “Okay, but it’s more than just traveling between worlds, Y/N. Magic,” he states, lifting a hand – the blade of grass spins, flying overhead in response, “exists everywhere. Magic is an infinite supply of energy that anyone can use, given they have the right capabilities.”

Mouth ajar, you follow the purple grass towards the sky. “And you have the right capabilities?” you manage to ask, although clearly, he does.

Jimin nods, focused on the spinning object above. “So do you, I imagine.”

With a frown, you tear your gaze away from the blade. Squinting at the planet, you try – and fail – to move a leaf with your mind. Perhaps this is because you have no idea what you’re doing. It is as though someone has handed you a blank sheet of paper and told you to draw, but gave no utensil. Or, perhaps they handed over the pencil as well – but still, you have no idea whether to use the tip or the eraser.

Scrunching your eyes, you stare intently at a puce-colored flower.

Jimin chuckles, letting the grass drop to the ground. “It takes practice,” he assures, dusting his hands off on his pants. “For you, right now, there’s a tsunami of information pouring in through a door. It’s too much and you don’t have the time to digest it – which leads to the worst kind of sensory overload. With time, you’ll be able to separate out the strands.”

“Alright,” you sigh, giving up on the pretense that you can do magic for now. “It’s like you’re trying to confuse me. What the fuck are the strands?”

Jimin huffs, a tiny movement of his lips. “Right – strands of magic. Strands of energy, binding together the universe. Everything of consequence is made up of particles – some people can just see them better, that’s all. Some people,” he adds, a slight gleam to his eyes, “can use them.”

A strange kind of excitement unfurls in your stomach. “So,” you respond, returning to looking at the flower, “this is what you do, when you travel between worlds?”

“What we do,” Jimin corrects, arching a brow. “But yes, that’s it. We bend the strands, we move them together into a more efficient fashion.”

“Right.” Pursing your lips, you are sure your face remains dubious. “And what you did earlier, with the grass – that was a different kind of magic, than traveling?”

“Walking,” Jimin corrects, lowering both hands to the dirt. “Although, I guess we sometimes do call it traveling. And yes, in a way. But back to the concept of Blocks,” he says, even though he didn’t explain this the first time. “A Block is a magical entity, of sorts. They are magical entities which exist to cancel out other magic.”

“Cancel out... magic?”

Jimin nods, a knowing look on his face.

In response to this, you scowl, since you have always felt arrogance to be an unbearable character trait. On Jimin, though, it does not seem unattractive, which is an insufferable contradiction.

“What do you mean by, ‘cancel out’?” you prod. “How can one magic diminish another?”

Jimin looks up at the sky. “How does anything work, in any world?” he murmurs, though the question doesn’t seem directed at you. Leaning back on his hands, he sighs. “A Block can be anything – an object, a person, a building. The Earth is a Block,” he offers, looking your way.

You still. In the distance, beyond, wine-colored mountains blend into the sky. It paints a rather lovely portrait.

“The Earth, as a planet, is a giant Block for magic. It’s why we can’t do these kinds of things there,” he explains as, with a wave of his hand, Jimin sets the grass spinning. “Only certain magics work, certain patterns of of energy exist on the Earth. It’s party why the Normals won against us in the war, so many years ago.”

Staring at him dizzily, you wonder when you moved so easily from they to us. For so long, you listened to history lessons about how you won the war. A war where you, the Normals, drove out the dangerous Walkers and regained the planet Earth as your own. Now, you realize you are a part of them. You are the beings so easily stamped out and suddenly, your origin story doesn’t sound so appealing.

Dragging a hand through your hair, you turn to look at the suns.

Odd, how similar this place is to Earth. Except for the purple, of course – but apart from that, it could be a twin. One would think that, given an infinite combination of particles in the universe, molecules would not deign to order themselves the same way. With a noise almost like a chuckle, the breeze stirs in your hair.

Clearing his throat, Jimin returns your attention to him. “Only some magic is possible on Earth,” he affirms. “Walkers travel to other worlds. Seers can do this, and bring items back with them. But on some worlds,” he shrugs, throwing out both arms. Leaves and grass swirl up, between fingers. “We can do more.”

Sunlight pierces the leaves, suspended in midair before you. Staring, you wonder at the change in the air – and in Jimin, seated before you. When you met him on Earth, he was a dim, fading thing. Here, there is something wild and alive in his gaze. Jimin takes a deep breath, exhaling this slow through his nostrils.

“Not every world is like Lilac,” Jimin cautions, keeping both eyes closed. “There are bad places in the universe, Y/N; evil places. They work harder to pull others in, which is why you keep accidentally going to them in your dreams. Worlds like Lilac, these are harder to find.”

Nodding, you lift both hands from the grass – and realize, with shock, the blades cling to your skin. A beacon of energy, Jimin said about you in his attic.

With a sigh, Jimin reaches out, swiping these into the dirt. “I should’ve realized,” he murmurs, brushing the curve of your wrist. More grass tumbles to the ground, but you are not looking at this – you are looking at him. “Even in a mostly dead world, a Seer is dangerous.”

You shiver, this time not from him. You shiver from the idea that just by being here, you are calling things to you – the notion is a frightening one, to say the least, so you push it aside. A mostly dead world, Jimin said. You don’t want to consider what this mostly part means.

Leaning back on your palms, you stare up at the sky. Above are a million, tiny pricks of light. Eerily similar to home and yet, not. You stare, keeping your eyes open for as long as you can and there – in the single, fleeting moment before everything blurs – you think there is a pulse to the rhythm, a stark weaving of energy.

“What is a Seer?” you whisper, when you blink. The energy disappears, leaving you wanting. “I know what you said earlier,” you hasten, noting the change in Jimin’s expression. “I’m a gateway of sorts, between worlds – but what does that mean, really?”

Jimin sighs. “It means not only can you rearrange your own energy – you can rearrange someone else’s. And that is rare.”

“I guess,” you mutter, with a shrug. Truthfully, this does not seem so special. “I don’t see how that’s important, though. Why is it so valuable – why would things seek me out, when I travel?”

Jimin stares at you in amazement. “Are you serious – okay,” he exhales, scooting closer. Grabbing one of your hands, he holds it high overhead. “Let’s call this the Earth.”

Glancing at your hand, you shrug. “Okay.”

“This,” Jimin grabs your other hand, bringing it far away from the first, “is the neighboring planet, Siphon.”

“Siphon?”

“It was the first word I thought of. Anyways, Siphon,” Jimin continues, wriggling the one hand above you, “wants to attack Earth. But – oh, no! What a large waste of perfectly good resources. What a large sum of time, money and spaceships just to get from one side of the galaxy to the other! Unless,” he counters, raising a brow. “What if we simply kidnap a Seer and use them to – zap! – move an entire army from one world to the next.”

Your blood chills, wincing at the sound it makes when Jimin smushes your hands together. “I,” you exhale, then swallow. “Is that possible?”

Jimin nods, releasing your hands and letting them fall to your sides. “It’s happened before,” he states. “It’s happened often enough that Seers were deemed a threat to humanity, long ago. Many were killed during the War,” Jimin admits, a certain sadness entering his gaze. “Which is why you’re so rare, why I didn’t even know what you were. I’ve never met another Seer.”

Your mind crowds, full of noisy implications you would rather not consider. Your powers must have come from somewhere, they had to. From the way Jimin speaks, it seems as though his are hereditary – the Walkers are a people, the Normals are a people. But, if so, what are you? Neither of your parents exhibited signs of being a Seer or, at least, none you can recall. You are all alone and while yes, that is not exactly a new fact, somehow it seems much more permanent.

Jimin tilts his head. “Seers are dangerous,” he explains. “Especially you, since you’re old for a newbie and don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

“Hey!” you blurt out, curling your legs into your chest. “Watch who you’re calling old,” you huff. “You can’t be much younger than I am. If you even are.”

“Sorry,” Jimin shrugs, though he doesn’t look it. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was that Walkers learn to control their powers at a young age. The fact that you never did – well,” Jimin hesitates. “It’s no wonder you’re attracting big prey. Something has kept your powers at bay for a long time – it’s the only explanation, as to why you haven’t realized what you are. Now that your powers are free, though…” Jimin shrugs. “Everything is releasing all at once.”

“A tsunami through a door,” you repeat, borrowing Jimin’s phrase from earlier.

Jimin nods, dark hair pushed back by the wind. “Exactly.”

You are quiet for a few minutes, letting this all sink in. The most logical explanation is a Block – a Block, which exists somewhere in your life and hinders your magical abilities. This is too much to think about now, though, especially when you are here, and not back on Earth.

“Are we the only magical beings that exist?” you query, then frown. “Also, how are there even different magical beings, if all energy is the same? You keep on saying you’re a Walker and yet,” you wave a hand at the grass, “you’re clearly more.”

Jimin hums, lowering himself to lie flat on the world. Arranging himself into a more comfortable position, he stares at the sky. “Ah, that’s hard.” Jimin frowns, lacing his hands over his stomach. “I think it can be best explained, in terms of personality. Let’s pretend, for a moment, I’m very skilled in verbal communication.”

“Ha,” you snort.

Delicately, Jimin arches a brow. “I said pretend. Anyways, pretend I’m a great verbal communicator – this doesn’t mean I can’t communicate through a written medium. It just means I’m most skilled when I speak out loud.” Lifting his head from the grass, Jimin stares at you. “I’m good at traveling places. For some reason, on Earth, everything else becomes muted and only my strongest skill remains. It’s an odd sort of Block.”

“Well,” you exhale, settling down in the grass to match his position. “Why don’t you just stay in other worlds, then? If you can do magic elsewhere, why not just stay here?”

Jimin’s expression takes on a cast of pure obviousness. “Because those other worlds aren’t home.”

Nodding, you lower yourself flat, like he is. To some, this might seem like a silly answer but to you, it makes sense.

“Can people levitate things on Earth?” you ask, turning your head on the grass. “If that’s their ‘specialty,’ as you put it?”

Jimin turns his head as well, meeting your gaze. “In theory, I suppose. I haven’t met any.”

There’s a strange cast to his words, darker than previous and you frown. “Jimin, why are you –”

When he sits up, the movement is abrupt, breaking the moment. “I don’t want to talk about my past,” Jimin mutters. “I don’t want to talk about where I live, or why, or how I came to be there.”

There is something hard, finite to his voice. He stares at the mountains and you try not to notice the raw pain to his gaze. The moment seems oddly private, as though you are not meant to see it. His tone does not invite further conversation and, unwilling to push him on this, you don’t try.

“Okay,” you shrug, returning your gaze to the suns.

Jimin settles onto the grass, kicking one ankle over the other. He stares at the stars for so long, you think he might have forgotten you. “Before,” he sighs, sliding back into conversation. “When you were attempting to assault me, and I disappeared – that is magic I can do back on Earth.”

“Oh, sure,” you respond, turning to face him with a scowl.

He smiles, some of his former ease returning. “That’s just me, traveling – or, Walking. It’s my natural specialty and I can do it quite easily.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Frowning, you stare up at the sky. “You get to zip around the universe, you basically have the power of teleportation – and here I am, a giant doorway.”

“Along with a lighthouse, yes.”

Glaring at nothing, you wave a hand overhead. “Do you see how unfair that is?”

A puff of laughter passes Jimin’s lips. “Yeah. Look – you could have other strengths, as well. Like I said, I’ve never actually met a Seer before. You’re the first. Apparently, this means you can travel, too,” Jimin shrugs. “At least, you did earlier, when I brought you to Lilac.”

When he says this, a horrifying image begins to form in your thoughts. “Wait,” you respond, turning your head on the grass. “Are you saying… that before, when we came here... you didn’t know if I could?”

Jimin’s cheeks color. “It, uh, seemed worth the risk.”

For the second time on the planet, you launch yourself forward and begin pummeling him with your fists. Jimin laughs, curling in on himself – only to disappear, reappearing in a bush several feet over.

“Stop doing that,” you huff, pushing yourself onto your elbows.

Jimin is still laughing, clutching his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he protests, tumbling free of the leaves to wipe mirth from his eyes. “I just haven’t ever experienced my powers with someone else before. Turns out, it’s kind of fun.”

Although you’re still pissed at him, your curiosity gets the better of you. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, lowering yourself on the grass.

“Well,” Jimin muses, scooting closer to flop down on his front. “Being a Walker is kind of alienating. The whole ‘travel by yourself’ thing gets old, fast. I’ve never come to Lilac with anyone else before.”

This thought strikes you as incredibly lonely. “No one? Ever?”

Scanning the horizon of lavender lakes and trees, you wonder if the beauty would hold true, were you to only ever see it by yourself. For some reason, the implication is unsettling.

“No one,” he answers.

“What about another Walker?” you query, turning your head.

“Time is a funny thing,” Jimin says and, when you look, he stares straight overhead. “It moves differently in different parts of the universe. The one time I tried visiting a place with another Walker – they arrived five years in the past, I got there seventy-four in the future.”

Eyes widening, you release the breath you were holding. “How?”

“How,” Jimin sighs, loosening a groan and throwing a hand over his face. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, in between body parts. “Lord – Y/N. Do I seem as though the universe has let me in on all of its personal secrets?”

“Kind of, yeah. You have that ‘omniscient, egotistical asshole’ vibe.”

The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “Ha. Well,” he sighs, from underneath his arm. “I don’t know how it works. Think of it like earlier – when I took your two hands and smushed them together. Time is kind of like that, too.”

“Confusing, and full of crappy metaphors?”

“Sure, but also non-linear,” Jimin points out, finally removing his arm from his face. “Time is amorphous, has no straight lines and when a Walker travels, it is hard to control both space and time in one jump. Except on your planet of birth,” Jimin corrects, thinking it through. “You body reaches for one timeline there, for some reason.”

“Huh.” You can think of no further response – everything about today, or tonight is just one, giant question mark. The rest is just details, until the newness subsides.

“You know, you’re handling this much better than most people would.”

“Am I?” you muse.

Turning, you marvel at the sight of Jimin, bathed in violet twilight.

He nods, profile dipping in and out of shadow. “Most Walkers learn about their abilities at a young age, grow up knowing what they are – even if they have to keep it a secret from society. Anyways, most Walkers reject the concept of magic, the first time that they hear it. You didn’t.”

“Oh. That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Of course, most Walkers are around five or six years old when they learn.”

Without hesitation, you punch Jimin in the arm.

“Hey!” he yelps, though he’s laughing.

“There’s more where that came from,” you inform, folding both hands over your stomach. His laughter quiets and, as the silence stretches between you, uncertainty drifts in and out of your thoughts. “Jimin?”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, both eyes shutting. “Are you going to hit me again?”

“Not if you don’t deserve it,” you huff – but there’s a catch to your voice.

Hearing this, Jimin opens his eyes.

Before you can move, he is before you. In the blink of an eye, Jimin travels closer and you suck in a breath, trying – and failing – to adjust to the nearness of him. This proves to be impossible.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, a subtle tilt to his head.

He’s so near, you almost lose focus. “What now?” you manage to ask, pushing the words into being. Above you, the world is spinning – not literally, although you can’t say that with certainty. “Now that I know what I am – what now?”

Jimin is quiet for a long moment. “I won’t lie to you,” he responds at last, oddly hesitant. “The Earth is not kind, to people like us.”

“Yeah?” you breathe, curling a hand in the grass. There still exist a few inches between you, a fact which seems significant, given how frequently you consider closing that space.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees, his hand moving nearer. “I mean, you saw where I live. Technically, Walkers don’t even exist back in our world. Neither do you,” he reminds.

“Right.” It is a cold reminder, one which prompts your next question. “The dreams, though,” you whisper, still looking at him. “The whole reason I sought you out was because of the dreams. I keep accidentally traveling in my sleep,” you explain, fingers tightening on mauve. “And until I know how to stop it – aren’t I in danger of bringing something back?”

Jimin doesn’t move. “Yes,” he breathes, barely audible.

“Okay.” With a half-laugh, you tear your gaze quickly away. “At least you’re honest.”

Unprompted, his hand finds yours in the damp, purple grass. “I’ll teach you,” Jimin implores, oddly earnest. You look at him. The weight of his gaze feels alien – there exists a spark within it, one you have never experienced before.

There are only a few people you’ve encountered who contain such fire. Your ex-boyfriend was one of them, before time and secrets dampened that flame. Your mother was another, although she died too soon for you to fully comprehend. This, feels like more than both.

His touch burns. “Sorry,” Jimin winces, pulling back – but you stop him. “I know my body runs hotter than normal. I mean it,” he implores, “when I say that I’ll help you. Traveling in your dreams is fairly normal for a new Walker. I can help you with that.”

“It’s normal?” you respond, lifting a brow. “It’s normal, to call giant monsters to me in my sleep?”

“Okay, maybe that’s unique.” Jimin’s lips quirk. “But still, it’s just sleep-Walking. You’re astral-projecting into other worlds, which is much less intense.”

“Uh,” you blink, understanding about seventy percent of what he just said. “Come again?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin rubs at his forehead – he still hasn’t let go of your hand with the other. “When you sleep, your body is unresponsive but your mind is awake. All your defenses are lowered and when you’re new, oftentimes you travel. But,” he hastens, seeing your expression, “because your body is asleep – only your mind disappears. That’s what I meant, when I Walked in your dreams earlier and told you I was real, but you were not.”

Despite yourself, you shudder. “That somehow sounds worse.”

Jimin nods, thumb tracing over your wrist. “Don’t worry, your soul is made of tougher stuff than you think. It is not as easily – well, physically – harmed. Still, it’s probably best if you stop sleep-Walking altogether.”

“Oh, you think?” Though the response is sarcastic, you don’t move away. “Thanks,” you whisper, closing your eyes – it has not escaped your notice that Jimin does not have to do any this. You are still, by all accounts, a stranger, despite the trauma you share.

“Anytime,” he responds.

When Jimin withdraws his hand, it feels as though the world has, once again, rearranged. Opening your eyes, you push yourself into a seated position. “What’s wrong?” you ask, when he stands.

Stretching both arms, Jimin arches a brow. “We should be getting back,” he explains, holding out a hand to help you up. “Like I said, timing in other places is strange. How long do you think we’ve been here?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You pause, opening your mouth but find yourself stumped. The light around you hasn’t changed. The shadows on the ground are no longer, no less – nothing has moved in the sky, no constellations have shifted from view.

“A few hours?”

Jimin shrugs. “I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine,” he states – cheerfully, as though he didn’t just admit you could be twenty years in the future. “I suppose we’ll find out, once we get back to Earth.”

This is a horrifying statement, though some of your worry is alleviated when Jimin slips his hand into yours.

Only for a moment though, because then you remember the chaotic world you exited. Jimin’s attic, the booming voice at the door, the forced entrance of someone and their climb up the stairs. You still haven’t asked Jimin who that was but, based on his reaction to them, you assume no one good.

Turning around, the wind blows hair over your eyes. “Where are we going?” you ask, tightening your grip.

If Jimin notices the change, he doesn’t comment. “Somewhere you deem safe. An apartment? Safehouse? Someplace no one will see us when we enter. Just think about it,” he exhales, meeting your gaze. “Think of it, and I’ll get us there.”

“My apartment,” you respond, automatic. “No one will be there, and whoever was at your apartment won’t know that we’re there.”

Jimin’s expression flickers, unreadable for a moment. “I’ve never been to the Peak before. Well,” he sighs, licking his lips. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

You nod, closing your eyes as thoughts of home fill your mind. “Okay,” you exhale, trying not to feel foolish. Squeezing them shut, you visualize the hallway outside your door; the foyer inside, with a blue plastic vase of flowers.

Jimin exhales.

Everything turns dark, and you gasp – or, try to but find you no longer have a body to breathe. No blood pounds through your veins, no bones shiver in your skin, there is nothing but black, dark emptiness and when you try and scream, zap –

You stumble into the hall, nearly smacking your head on the wall.

Jimin follows, catching your waist and spinning you suddenly backwards. His entire body braces, taking the brunt of your fall. Gasping, you feel suddenly whole again – until you retch, leaning over to grasp both knees with your hands. Jimin seems worse off than you are; he heaves in slow, even motions while ducking his head to his chest.

After a few moments of blood pounding through veins, you manage to push yourself upwards. Luckily, the hallway is empty – it seems that you overshot the landing, you realize, squinting at the numbers on doors. Your apartment is down the hall, around two corners and with a shudder, you wonder what would have happened if you’d appeared in someone else’s apartment. That would have been difficult to explain.

No, there would have been no explanation. You would have been reported and – with a shiver, you cut off that next thought. What would have happened next, you don’t want to think about.

Jimin straightens beside you, rubbing his temples. “God,” he groans. “It’s harder, navigating two people at once. It’s like – you’re carrying me,” he frowns, pulling the pieces together. “You’re the Seer, so you’re taking me with you. But you don’t know how to drive, so I keep having to reach into the driver’s seat and yank the wheel.”

Rolling your eyes, you push past. “Thanks,” you huff and Jimin follows, already starting to smile. “It’s not my fault I don’t know how to travel. Like you said – something has been keeping my abilities at bay.”

“Right,” Jimin nods. Turning the corner, a distant pounding reaches your ears. Probably someone else’s music, or a broadcast show. “That’s the strange part, Y/N. I’ve been meaning to tell you, you should be careful.”

“Careful?” you respond, arching a brow and rolling up your shirtsleeve. The barcode on your wrist serves as a key to your door. Walking around the corner, the pounding grows even louder. “And why is that?”

Jimin does not respond.

Coming to a stop, you turn and see him focused on something over your shoulder. All blood has drained from his expression and Jimin remains frozen for only a moment, before he launches himself forward.

“Jimin!” you gasp, thrown sideways for him to barrel angrily past.

Now, the noise from the hallway is clear. Someone stands at your door, violently knocking – you see this for only a moment, before Jimin is there. He grabs the man by the shoulder, yanking him sideways to punch him square in the jaw.

Oh, fuck.

With each passing second, your stomach sinks because now, you recognize who it is. You recognize their black, leather jacket; you recognize the clean cut of their clothing. You recognize his smooth white of his uniform underneath and the way his hair curls, overgrown, at the base of his neck.

He stumbles back, not having expected the punch – but re-gathers himself quickly, ducking to avoid the next blow. The man’s movement is quick, efficient countering Jimin’s oncoming punches, but this is to be expected. The man is captain of the police force and as such, is able to dismantle grown men without thinking twice.

What is odd about this fight is, Jimin seems to possess this skill as well.

He ducks the other man’s blow, weaving easily to deliver a second punch to the groin. The second man groans, doubled over and now Jimin draws back his fist – and you dart in, grabbing him with both hands and dragging him backwards.

“Jimin!” you gasp, using all of your weight to get him to stop. “What are you doing?”

Looking down in surprise, Jimin seems to notice you for the first time. “Y/N,” he growls, gaze tightening. “Get out of the way – you’re in danger!”

“Danger?” you hiss, still staring at Jimin. “What are you even talking about?”

By now, the second man has managed to push himself upwards. Standing in the middle of your hall, he regards the two of you warily. It has not escaped your notice, the way the man’s gaze lingers on your hand, touching Jimin. Instantly, you flush and drop both arms to your side.

Jimin’s jaw tightens, looking at you. “He’s a Block, Y/N,” he grunts, flinging out a hand. The point of his finger is accusatory. “Can’t you feel it? The subtle pull at your powers, your conscience, your being? He’s a fucking Block and he’s here at your door – doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

You want to move. Want to, but can’t; too consumed by the words placed into being. Now that Jimin says it, yes, you can feel it. The slow, subtle drain to your energy ever since turning the corner.

Gaze darting to the other man – whose expression has crumpled into something like fear – you find yourself stuck to the floor. The man now has eyes only for you, completely ignoring Jimin while taking a step forward.

“Fuck,” he whispers, horrified, pushing both hands through his hair. “Y/N... what have you done?”

Jimin freezes, and you know that he hears it. The familiarity, the implicit trust in his tone. “Y/N,” Jimin mutters, not looking away. “What is going on?”

“Jimin,” you whisper, looking from him to the other. “This is my ex-boyfriend. Jungkook.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jungkook states drily, sticking out a hand.

[ Walkers Master List ]

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jimin au #jungkook au #bts au #jimin fantasy au #jungkook fantasy au #bts fantasy au #bts writing #jimin writing #jungkook writing

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kelyon · 5 years

Text

Golden Cuffs Chapter 13: The Routine

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

In a series of vingettes, Belle learns the ups and downs of her day to day life

Read on AO3

Author’s Note: Special Shout out to @nerdcafeolatra who gifted this fic (and me as an author) with the first fan art. Check out this moodboard!

It took a little time for Belle to notice how much her days fell into a pattern. The first week she had spent in Rumpelstiltskin’s castle had been a blinding flurry of events--a constant stream of new experiences in her body and in her mind. Only gradually did she feel her new life settling into some kind of order.

Most days began with Rumpelstiltskin waking her up, brushing her hair, and making her work for her food.

“Alright,” he said one morning, a bright glint in his eye. “Are you ready for a challenge?”

Kneeling on the floor, Belle nodded. “Yes, Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Good girl,” he grinned. “Stand up.”

The cuffs pulled Belle to her feet. The breakfast tray was still on the ground, magically set there so firmly that it might as well be part of the stone.

Rumpelstiltskin stood behind her and pulled the robe off her body. His hands crept around her curves as he spoke low into her ear: “Now bend over and grab your ankles.”

As usual, the cuffs did the work, pulling Belle to bend at the waist and locking her wrists to her legs. The tray was in front of her now, the bowl of porridge close enough that she could dip her tongue in it. She could eat, but she would have to do it upside down.

She could see Rumpelstiltskin’s feet between her legs, upside down from her perspective. Was he enjoying the view offered by her new position? Her bottom was exposed, her secret places no longer secret. Would he finger her while she tried to eat? Would he take her while she was like this?

“Eat up,” he said brightly. “Unless this is too much for you?”

“No,” Belle said, even as the blood rushed to her head. “It’s not too much.”

She was permitted to say it was too much. Sometimes he would tell her that that was the point, that he wanted her to suffer. Sometimes he would halt the game for a moment. He would allow her to breathe, to gather her strength. Then he would tell her how good she was, how obedient, how strong and clever and beautiful. It might take a while, but the Dark One always got what he wanted from her.

Most days she enjoyed rising to his challenges. It surprised her to realize these games could be fun. There was a pleasure in being restricted and bound--and finding a way to work around those restrictions to get her reward. Every so often, she would look up at him while she performed, while she debased herself for his amusement. When he looked back at her, his eyes glowed softly, as though he were amazed by her. As though he were not just pleased by her humiliation, but proud of her accomplishment.

That was the look that made Belle want to keep rising to his challenges.

****

“But look at your hair!” he said on another morning. “I spend precious time every day making it look presentable, but you still wake up with a rat’s nest on your head!”

Belle forced herself not to smile, to look convincingly apologetic and contrite. She pretended to pout, as he pretended to be annoyed. “I’m so sorry, Rumpelstiltskin. Please don’t punish me for being so careless.”

“Oh, you know I will punish you, my slut. I will hurt you from one end,” he pulled sharply at one of her curls, “to the other!” he smacked her hard on her bottom. The sound of the impact echoed in the small cell.

Belle felt her insides clench and bit her lips to keep her smile away.

Rumpelstiltskin sat on the bench. “Kneel,” he ordered. “Let me fix this catastrophe.”

She knelt between his legs, her face close to his groin. As usual for this game, she bowed her head and let him have access to her hair.

Regular brushing wasn’t this much of a production, but wash day was different. The magic cloth he had given her always steamed and bubbled with soap, so it was easy for her to wash her body and face whenever she needed to. But Rumpelstiltskin had claimed a special ownership over her hair. Only he could wash it and oil it and comb it out.

Warm water poured out from the air and he lathered her curls with lavender soap. More water to rinse--water that never left a puddle on the dungeon floor--and then the oil of roses.

When his hands were in her hair, Belle felt more owned than she did when his cock was inside her body. His hands in her hair controlled her, yes, but they also protected her, cherished her. The best part was when he would twist a strand of her curls between his thumb and forefinger, exactly the motion he used to spin his straw. That was when she knew she had value.

After he rubbed oil into her hair, he would usually keep spreading it onto her skin. At the very least he would rub her back. His hands were gentle but firm, pushing into the muscles under her skin. He would always point out marks on her body--bruises he had put there, or the faint bites and claw-marks left over from their coupling. Every time he rubbed her back, he told her it would get worse.

Belle believed him, but she wasn’t afraid.

“Stand up now,” he said. “Let me see your arse.”

Even more gently, he rubbed oil around her bottom. His touches were feather-light on her bruises--unless he didn’t want to be. Unless he wanted to make more bruises.

Belle didn’t mind the dull aches, but sometimes a sudden touch would make her wince or cry out. When that happened, it was impossible to know whether Rumpelstiltskin would apologize or squeeze her harder. No matter what, she was allowed to scream, to weep, to beg him to stop, even if he didn’t stop. Whether his intention was to soothe her or worsen her suffering, he never wanted her to hide her pain.

“What a pretty bum you have,” he said after an application of oil. “And how convenient that it just so happens to already be slick and slippery. Just the way I like it!”

He always fucked her ass on wash day. Belle made herself think the crude words. She had never been given polite phrases for a man entering her there, so she made due with the impolite phrases Rumpelstiltskin had taught her. He wanted her to think these rude words, to speak them freely. As in everything, she tried her best to obey him.

For days afterwards, the fragrance of roses lingered on her skin and in her hair. Every time Belle smelled that scent she felt her knees grow weak with desire. The smell was a reminder of Rumpelstiltskin’s care--and his ownership of every part of her.

****

Every day she saw him was a day he took her--on her bench, on the dining room table, on the carpet in front of the fireplace, in his armchair, against a wall. He used every part of her body, favoring her mouth or her cunt only a little bit more than her ass.

He would pleasure her--almost always, he would make her orgasm before they did anything else. He used his mouth or his fingers to reduce her to a quivering mess long before he would take his cock out and fill her.

Throughout all of this, he kept his clothes on when he took her. He never even removed his boots. Belle had caught glimpses of his cock, jutting out from a slit in his leather breeches. But she was never permitted a good look at it. Even when Rumpelstiltskin shoved it in front of her face and demand she put it in her mouth, even then he kept them in darkness or in shadow. He would not allow her to see any part of his body, not even the part that was the most crucial to the terms of their deal.

Meanwhile, Belle had two choices with her apparel: Naked or half-naked. The robe was most useful for her at night, when she could cover herself with it like a blanket and retain a little bit of her body’s warmth. Or if she was by herself in the castle, she felt more civilized having something to wear over her own skin. It was better than wandering around unclothed like some kind of barbarian. Sometimes Rumpelstiltskin fucked her while she was still wearing it, but usually he liked to have her exposed.

If she had ever doubted that the robe was magical, a few weeks of constantly wearing it had proved her wrong. It never got dirty. Nothing that spilled on the silk stained. It never smelled or felt grimy against Belle’s skin. The blue and gold silk never lost its vibrancy or looked as though it had been worn at all. It was just as beautiful as it had been the day he’d given it to her.

****

Rumpelstiltskin took tea every day. The chipped cup was always on the tray, but Belle never served it to him. He had all but ordered her not to, told her that if she ever did he would fly into a rage and punish her severely. Even though Belle had become more accustomed to the punishments the Dark One dolled out, she had no desire to test him. She gave him tea in the unchipped cup, with three sugars and lots of cream.

While he drank, she would usually perform for him. Sometimes they played the wobble game, when he would make her pose and keep track of every time she moved. There was what he called the poetry game, when he would give her a verse to read while he had tea. If she could memorize the entire thing and recite it to him without error, then she would get a reward. That hadn’t happened yet, and Belle had the bruises to prove it.

It should have bothered her, that Rumpelstiltskin enjoyed hurting her. That had been the aspect of their deal that she had most dreaded. But that was before she knew what it meant to be on the other side of Rumpelstiltskin’s particular desires.

How could she describe it without sounding mad? Sometimes Belle imagined talking to her old friends about her life now. How could she tell sweet Jeanne and practical Mathilde that the highlight of her days were those times when the Dark One pretended to be angry with her and took that fury out on her body? How could she explain the thrill she got from being at his mercy? How could she say out loud that she carried the pain in her back and bottom around with her as though they were tokens of esteem? It was madness to tell them how safe she felt when he was hurting her. How could a normal person understand?

Rumpelstiltskin was never actually angry during the pain games. He didn’t care if she wobbled or stammered or failed at whatever other impossible task he devised. Her behavior didn’t matter, it was just an excuse to hurt her. That was freeing for Belle, to have punishment without a crime. She had done nothing wrong, he was just doing this because he wanted to. She could feel the release of suffering without the damage of any real guit.

“This isn’t a punishment,” he said one day while she was naked and locked across the dining room table. “How can I punish a whore who never disobeys me?”

She was good, she had been good all her life. But pain still happened. She was still small and vulnerable before the powers of the world.

“I’m hurting my whore because it’s fun!”

And that was the beautiful lie of this game: that the pain had meaning, that it benefited anyone. Belle could allow herself to be hurt as long as she had the knowledge that Rumpelstiltskin took real pleasure in hurting her. In this way, they could make sense out of the chaos that was life.

“Stretch out, little slut, and relax. That will make the impact hurt more.”

“Yes, Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle’s voice was small and muffled by the table.

If there was any aspect of this game that she didn’t like, it was the odd effect it had on her voice. Already she could hear herself become high-pitched and breathy. Later, she knew she would fumble over her words or she would babble or fall silent altogether. When Rumpelstiltskin hurt her body, her mind detached from her mouth.

He hit a solid smack onto her thighs. Belle yelped--more in surprise than pain--and tensed her muscles.

“I said relax!” he growled into her ear, holding her throat from behind.

“I’m sorry!” Belle closed her eyes against the sudden tears. This game made it embarrassingly easy to cry. Sometimes that was the best part, to feel uninhibited, to set her emotions free even as her body was bound.

“Try it again,” he said darkly.

“Yes, Rumpelstiltskin.” She took one deep breath. Then another. She tried to force the air from her mouth down through her body. The relaxation traveled through her flesh to the exposed cheeks that Rumpelstiltskin brushed his nails against posessively.

When she was relaxed, he hit her again. She couldn’t stop her body from tensing as it happened, but she made muscles ease more quickly this time.

He hit her again without warning, then scraped his long fingernails over her cheeks--pain on top of pain.

Belle let out a sound and even she couldn’t say if it was a moan or a cry.

He was so calm, so calculating as he hurt her. In the moments when she could think, Belle was certain that this was deliberate. He was holding himself back, intentionally keeping himself from hurting her even one measure more than she could stand.

Belle had some idea of what Rumpelstiltskin was like when he lost control. She had seen the destroyed room, after all, the fist-sized holes in the stone. Sometimes when he fucked her, he was more intense, more heated, more desperate. But she had never seen him lose his self-command entirely.

No matter what he did to her, he was always a step removed. What would it be to face the Dark One’s full wrath? Or even his full lust? Could a person experience that and live to tell about it? Legends told that no-one could look at the gods without dying or going mad. Perhaps that was why Rumpelstiltskin kept himself hidden from her.

After the violence had ended, Rumpelstiltskin always cared for Belle. He would hold her in his arms and tell her how wonderful she’d been, how pleased he was with her. How she was good, she was precious, she was his. This was Belle’s favorite version of him. Gentle, tender, a little silly and very sweet.

Did she let him beat her just to have this part of him?

But Belle enjoyed who she was during these times as well. In these soft moments after the harsh intensity of the games, she also became giggly and sweetly foolish. She liked the freedom of being direct in her desires. She could tell Rumpelstiltskin that she wanted to sit or stand or lie with him on the plush carpet--and he would give her what she wanted. There was nothing to think about in these blissful after-moments. Belle had no worries, no cares, no questions. She was like a boat that had navigated stormy seas and unknown waters for endless weeks--but now she was docked at a safe harbor, allowed to float in a peaceful bay.

****

“I’m going out today,” he told her one morning after breakfast.

“So you’re not just wearing your coat to keep off the cold?” Belle’s breath showed in the dungeon air.

He grinned at her. “Oh are you chilled, little one? Perhaps I can spare a few moments to warm you up before I make my departure.”

Then he walked up to Belle, who was perched on the bench in her robe, and wrapped his spiky black coat over her head and shoulders. In the darkness of his clothes, she was surrounded by the warmth of him, the smell of him. Without being ordered, she opened her mouth and slid his cock between her lips.

Hidden under layers of fabric, Belle enjoyed the feeling of being close to him, of touching him. Even if her hands were locked to the bench, she could rub her face up and down the length of his cock. It almost felt like she was nuzzling him.

His hands were on the back of her head, but he didn’t control her this time. He held her close, wrapped her up in his scaly black leather. Like the wings of a dragon, Belle thought. A dragon cradling its treasure.

She had gotten better at pleasuring him with her mouth. It was still a daunting task to fit all of him inside her and she still always broke away when he spurted into her mouth--but she was getting better. She licked and sucked, like he had taught her. She trailed kisses along the shaft and rubbed her tongue against the smooth head. She hollowed her cheeks and heard him groan.

Before he came, Rumpelstiltskin pulled away from her, taking the warmth and the darkness with him. Belle winced at the light and the cold and she missed her chance to see him as he orgasmed. When she opened her eyes, he was collected and calm--though his eyes did shine and he smiled at her.

Aside from that, the only signs of his pleasure were the ache in Belle’s jaw and a single drop of glistening black fluid on the floor.

Belle took a breath and wiped her mouth. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back before your next feeding.” He reached out to pat her on the cheek, then turned to leave.

Belle stood up from the bench to follow him. “What shall I do while you’re gone?” She had never been alone in the castle before. Was safe to be here without him?

“You may do whatever you like, my girl. The cuffs will be your chaperone. But!” he held up a finger to her. “If you can find the orange drawing room, there is a surprise there waiting for you.”

“What’s the surp--” Belle began to ask, but he had already vanished in a puff of smoke.

Alright then. At least now she didn’t have to hear him mock her about the futility of asking what a surprise was going to be.

So. The orange drawing room. There were hundreds of rooms in this castle. Her previous explorations hadn’t even covered a tenth of its magnitude. She would have to get going.

She spent that day poking her head into bedrooms and antechambers and galleries. The cuffs didn’t keep her out of any room as they had the angry room at the foot of Rumpelstiltskin’s tower. She hadn’t found any other rooms like that, nothing so ruined and demolished. None of the rooms seemed lived in at all. Most rooms in the castle held no trace of Rumpelstiltskin, no hint of who he was or how he had lived before her arrival.

Well, there was one hint: There were almost no mirrors in the castle at all. She could see where they were supposed to be--see the empty spaces above dressing tables or the broken frames of hand mirrors. Once or twice, Belle had found grand, full-length mirrors on stands or built into the walls. Perhaps those were too large to be removed. They were all covered with heavy cloths. Did Rumpelstiltskin really think himself so ugly that he couldn’t look at his own face?

It was late afternoon when Belle found a room that could only properly be described as “the orange drawing room.” It was a small room by the standards of this castle, but Belle thought of it as cozy. There was just enough space for a small couch, a cluster of upholstered armchairs, and a few end tables. The furniture was all velvet, colored a deep, russet orange. The fireplace had been lit before Belle even opened the door, so the room was full of warmth and cheer. The walls were panelled in dark brown wood, the same kind that lined Rumpelstiltskin’s tower. On the floor, the carpet was a brighter orange than the chairs--the color of marigolds.

Where was her surprise? There was nothing on the center table, nor in any of the drawers. He had said there would be something in the room, hadn’t he? Not just that the room was the surprise.

It was a lovely room, of course. Every room that had walls and a fireplace was a paradise to Belle. But this room seemed especially comfortable and inviting.

Dreamily, Belle sighed onto the couch, thinking of the hours she could spend in the soft cushi--what was that?

There was something hard in the couch cushions. It dug into Belle’s back. Twisting around, Belle pulled away at the cushions until she found the offending object.

It was the book. The copper-colored book Rumpelstiltskin had allowed her to read. The color had blended in to the couch so that Belle would have never noticed it if she hadn’t sat down.

She touched the copper silk reverently, brushing her fingers against the light-and-dark snakes that decorated the cover. She could read more of it now, this story that never ended. She could see what happened next!

With no reason to hide her joy, Belle beamed and settled in to the couch, reading until Rumpelstiltskin came back.

****

There were also days he would spend spinning. He usually warned her of his plans the night before. Or else he would wake her in darkness and make sure she was fed and cared for before he began his work at sunrise.

Belle would spend those days much as she did they days when he was gone. As the evening drew near she would wander up to his tower, ready to spend time with him when he could give her some attention.

It was hard to talk to him while he spun. He was so focused on his thread, on his work, that he had no thoughts to spare for Belle. Sometimes she would ask him questions and his answers were disjointed, distracted. He didn’t seem to know what he was saying while he spun. Having him physically near but mentally distant was somehow worse than when he left the castle altogether.

****

Every night, Belle would go to her cell and touch her female places. At first, she didn’t think of Rumpelstiltskin. Her mind went to familiar territory, the terrible men who might have been her husbands. Eventually, however, she began to imagine what Rumpelstiltskin would do if he happened to witness her hypothetical wedding nights.

She imagined him in the room of her bridal chamber, invisible to her husband, watching some old man press her onto a bed. She imagined his anger at seeing her so poorly cared for; she imagined his desire to rescue her from this drudgery and show her what true pleasure was. She imagined Rumpelstiltskin touching his cock while he looked at her, she could imagine his desire and his fury growing more and more urgent until he reached a breaking point and pushed her husband off of her and took her like an animal until she screamed.

More and more, she orgasmed to the image of his face.

****

“Time for your potion!” Rumpelstiltskin said one morning as he woke her.

Belle shivered as she rose from the bench. “What potion?”

“Don’t you remember, my dear?” he held out a goblet for her to take. “Every month when the moon is full?” He let the phrase hang in the air, waiting for her to finish it.

“My womb will be empty,” Belle completed the sentence, the promise he had made her so long ago.

She took the cup and looked into it. Last time she hadn’t seen the potion, only tasted it and felt its warmth. Everything had been black that first night, dark and unknown and terrifying. But now it was morning. Rumpelstiltskin was not the Dark One, not to her, not anymore. She knew more of what to expect from him. She knew what her life was to be.

The potion in her hand was an opaque white, like milk. It steamed, and the heat was comforting. She drank and felt the warmth fill her.

A month. How could it have been only a month? How was it possible that a month ago she had been a maiden, set to marry a handsome young man? How could her life have changed so completely in the span of only a moon’s turn?

It had been a month since she had slept in a bed or eaten at a table--or spoken to anyone besides Rumpelstiltskin. Strange that she wasn’t more lonely, that she spend her days in sorrow for the life she had lost.

In the beginning, her solace had been the knowledge that her people were safe. The friends and family she would never see again would go on to lead full and hopefully happy lives. In the miserable confusion of her first days, her only certainty was that the Dark One had kept his word: the ogres were gone. He had saved them and she was paying the price.

But now she felt no need for solace. It was good that her loved ones were safe, of course. And she still loved them and thought of them fondly. But she didn’t miss them. Her cousins, her companions… they had no place in this new way of life, not even in Belle’s head.

Perhaps it was shame. How could she explain to Little Claude or the village girl Alix that she wasn’t ever going to be married? How could she tell Jeanne and Mathilde that her days with Rumpelstiltskin were more satisfying in every way than life could have ever been with Gaston? How could she even let the thoughts of these innocents exist in the same place as the Dark One? Pushing them from her mind was a kindness to everyone involved.

She wasn’t ashamed of the deal she had made. She enjoyed more of her life than she would have ever imagined. If she had changed so much in one month, how much more would she change in the months to come?

#golden cuffs #rumbelle #rumbelle fanfic #sorry this is so late guys #i've had a rough week

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