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targaryen-dynasty · 6 months

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AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, loss of virginity, p in v, handjob (fem and m receiving), size kink, breeding kink, westerosi bedding ceremony, forced marriage, mentions of underage marriage (but no consummation), fluff, female reader (appearance is not mentioned)

WORDS: 5.2 K

NOTES: The timeline is altered a bit. The events of episode 8 take place later, like sixtish years or so. @ivvypg and @sapphirehearteyes thank you for your glorious request. I hope you enjoy this. Thanks to @arcieleefor betaing this bad boy. This is dedicated to my beloved @black-dread. Thanks for all the amazing icons, gifsets and headers and for always having my back. ILU.

That one particular night at Driftmark haunted your every being ever since you and Silverwing flew home alongside Sunfyre, Tessarion, Dreamfyre and Vhagar the following morning.

King Viserys had ordered your betrothal to his suddenly mutilated second son so abruptly, stating it was the least both parties could do to make amends, that not even your mother nor the queen had a chance to intervene.

Everyone was aware of the large chasm between the members of House Targaryen, yet Viserys was blind to see that it could not be diminished anymore – especially not by the betrothal of you to your uncle.

Not more than a sennight had passed until Aemond and you cited your vows, and the sea green cloak of House Velaryon that was draped over your shoulders was replaced by the same black cloak your mother had once worn at her wedding to your late father. And besides your husband's side of the family, with your grandsire removing your cloak, no one else was present.

You had understood the threat of the situation like no other back then, and did not resent your mother’s absence, highly doubting that a raven even had left King’s Landing to inform your family on Dragonstone about the wedding being pushed forward.

Ravens of Dragonstone, however, frequented your chambers on a weekly basis.

Sometimes they were shoved into your hands as you were walking the hallways of Maegor’s Holdfast, and other times they were slid under the door to your martial chambers when Aemond was not present.

Cryptid messages, and more often than not paragraphs written in High Valyrian, adorned the scrolls handed over to you by maids and knights alike you knew were loyal to no other than the heir to the Iron Throne and her uncle-husband. Neatly kept away from whom it could be a thorn in the side.

The letters were your only solace in this lonely time – and did little to mend your homesickness.

Until Aemond had stumbled into your shared chambers one night, his silver curls tousled and the little braid at the back of his head loose. He ashamedly had admitted that Aegon had taken him to the Street of Silk to ensure he was as educated as his older brother was in the prospect of you having to consummate your wedding at some point, his voice breaking more and more with each word he said.

You had not understood the significance at first, but once it had settled, a lingering feeling of betrayal had spread throughout your bones. But there was no chance for it to linger any longer than a sennight, because that incident had seemed to bring your husband closer to you than he had been all the years you two spent together in the Red Keep. Two broken and lonely souls drawn to each other, searching for the comfort they had longed for for so long.

He sought out your presence more often than before, adamant to join you during your lessons and whenever you and your dragon ascended into the sky. Your presence during his training with the sword was greatly valued by him, something he had not bothered to acknowledge before.

You were hesitant to reciprocate his gestures and subtle affection at first, however, it overtook you in an ambush – and he was just as surprised as you were to learn that you were falling for him.

But regardless of how many hours you had spent together, how many kisses you had shared in secret, one mystery remained.

The black patch of leather concealing part of his chiseled features and what lay beneath.

Aemond rarely showed his vulnerability, even after being married for a few years already, and his missing eye was his biggest weakness. You did not push him, but regardless of how often you had told yourself you did not care about it, a part of you craved to see what was hidden, just as he craved your touch whenever you retired for bed.

Knowing your patience would bear fruit at some point, no matter how long it took, you just waited to finally be rewarded.

And there you stood now. Surrounded by a group of no less than five men.

Seven days of festivities and feasts lay behind you, tiring you to a certain degree. They were celebrating the night your husband was finally meant to claim your virtue, making your marriage fully legitimate.

And of course it was none other than your drunken uncle whose gruff voice had silenced the chatter of your guests, followed by a clap of his hands as if he had seen the servants bring another tankard full of the finest wine the capital had to offer.

“I believe ‘tis time for the bedding!”

It was not the thought of bedding Aemond, his promise of him not hurting you lingering in the back of your mind. It was the men crowding you, ready to tug and tear on the white gown queen Alicent had commissioned to be made for this occasion. For the official celebration of your wedding.

The bedding ceremony was a tradition particularly valued in other parts of the realm, however, with House Targaryen – or Hightower – in dire need of some more loyal allies, they had opted to follow along to those traditions. And, with Aemond being the ever dutiful son, he of course did as his grandsire and mother bid.

There was a loud cheer in the hall that quietened with Aemond eventually speaking. “Very well,” he said, a much smaller group of women surrounding him already. “But if any man offends my wife in word or deed, I shall have his head and feed him to Vhagar.”

No one dared to mess with the rider of the biggest dragon alive, had not before and most certainly not now. So it was that, when you were swept off of your feet, the men did not tug on your gown as hungrily as they had looked at you before.

You had no chance watching how Aemond was led to your martial chambers after you, the gaggle carrying you disappearing so quickly, as if they had to be somewhere else not long after. And once your bare feet were set on the cold ground, the men hurried around you to undo your dress, loosening the bodice and leaving you clad in nothing else than your smallclothes with the white dress pooling around your ankles.

The giggling of women grew in volume, catching your attention and forcing you to look past the group of men to the door, watching your husband enter. A sullen look overcame your features as you spotted Aemond with the buttons of his embroidered tunic opened, more so as your eyes flickered to the three undone laces in the front of his breeches. The women stopped outside of the door while he entered, and it seemed that his venture to the Street of Silk years ago had affected you more than you thought.

Aemond’s sharp eye, the purple striking even more with the patch of black leather next to it, cut through the group of men to find yours, moving slowly as he took you in. Where the chill air of your chambers had caused goosebumps to prickle on your skin before, they now were replaced by a feeling of liquid fire running through your veins.

There was a longing in you, suppressed by nervousness.

Ever since your first flowering, not long before you turned ten-and-four, there were little to no nights you found sleep without thoroughly exploring each other's bodies – but not once going far enough for him to take your maidenhead.

Aemond had told you that his mother had requested for you to preserve your maidenhood until the bedding ceremony, stating she would want you to avoid the death in childbirth the maesters at the citadel had recorded for very young mothers. Though you and him both knew she just did not like the thought of you losing your maidenhead and him possibly putting a child in you without the official ceremony of the second wedding, with more witnesses. You chose to follow her orders - to a certain degree at least.

He stalked towards you slowly, and there must have been something in the way his eye had darkened, because without another word, the men around you disappeared from your marital chambers, the doors falling shut behind Aemond. Coming closer, you were forced to tilt your head up to keep your eyes locked with his, his tall frame looming over yours. “They might listen at the door if they wish, but none will watch,” Aemond purred, voice cutting through the silence and sending a shiver down your spine.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other under the intensity of his gaze, you reached to pinch the thick, embroidered hem of his tunic with your fingers, rubbing it between them. When your eyes trailed from his down to your fingers, you briefly spotted his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, matching your own.

“Take-Take it off,” you stammered, barely hearing yourself with the feeling of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. As he did not move straight away, your wide eyes locked with his good one again, before he eventually pushed the tunic off his shoulders, joining your gown in a puddle on the floor.

You had seen him bare before, but this time was different. It felt more intimate, more vulnerable, given what was to be expected of the two of you.

Sparse, silver hairs adorned the expanse of his chest, and raking your fingers through them had never seemed so inviting. You could not admire the whispy trail that pursued from his navel down to disappear below the waistband of his breeches, because Aemond placed the tip of his finger under your chin to not only close your slightly opened mouth but to bring your focus back on him, forcing your head up for you to look at him.

“Are you enjoying the view, wife?” The term of endearment in combination with his demanding touch flushed your cheeks with desire, and caused your words to die on your tongue.

Glancing around the room to escape his heated gaze and regain your composure, you nodded your head, a sheepish smile on your lips. “I love you,” you whispered. And then, his lips captured yours with such ferocity, it enticed you with the promise of more and made you aware that he felt the same, even if he did not voice it.

Wandering hands grasped every part of your body they could reach, settling on your waist, while yours seized his shoulders for leverage, fingers dancing along the sides of his neck. You pressed your body against his, the heat emanating from him pleasant and comforting.

Your mouths hardly parted as his tongue dragged over your kiss-swollen lips just in time with you squeezing your thighs together, eliciting a shaky moan to slip past your lips. His fingers had started to undo the ties of your smallclothes, their movements stuttering at the sound. Aemond pinched the fabric between his fingers, stopping it from falling from your body just yet as his tongue persistently pushed past your lips again, claiming them with newfound vigor.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes shut just a moment longer before your half-lidded eyes met his, one shaky breath after the other fanning into the chill air. You tried to chase his lips, but when his hand came up to grab your chin, your smallclothes dropped to the ground. The reassuring squeeze of his other hand on your waist did little to stop you from shivering, the cold hitting your heated skin and the wetness between your legs.

You gasped as his hand came up to grope your breast, watching in awe as Aemond bowed forwards to wrap his lips around your nipple, nibbling and suckling on it. Shock widened your eyes, given that he had never done that before, yet you were desperate to keep his lips right there with your hands buried in the silver strands of his hair.

His fingers danced across the curve of your waist down to your arse, groping your flesh and holding you in place, if not even drawing you closer towards him than you already were. You writhed and panted in his grasp, keeping your eyes locked on his face as he licked over the curve of your breast, tongue swirling around your hardened bud.

“Stop teasing me,” you whimpered, inhaling sharply as a tug on Aemond’s silver tresses caused him to groan against your sweaty skin. Pulling back, he smirked up at you in a manner that gave away he felt flattered to have your undivided attention, the purple of his eye almost completely eclipsed by black.

Rising back to his full height, he mused, “I have only just begun.” Bringing his hand to your cheek, he nuzzled his nose along the side of your face, inhaling your scent. Your head tilted in the opposite direction to grant him even more access, allowing him to lick a flat stripe from the crook of your neck up to your ear.

“Why don’t you stop tempting me with those sweet sounds you make?” he breathed against the spot behind your ear before turning you around, your back flush against his chest. The protruding bulge in the front of his breeches pressed against your arse, alluring enough to push back against him. But with his hand trailing from your waist down between your legs, that urge was forced into the back of your mind.

You held onto his arm as two of his fingers parted your folds, dragging back and forth to generously coat them in your arousal. Tipping your head back against his shoulder, you turned it sideways slightly to nuzzle your nose against the side of his face. “My, my,” Aemond purred, “it seems as though someone is feeling frisky, mh?” You replied with a quiet whine that was elicited by his fingers circling around your little bud, prompting Aemond to scoff.

“I have not even had the chance to show your cunt enough attention, and you are this wet for me already.” Heat crept onto your cheeks at his words, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle a moan.

Squeezing his arm to keep yourself grounded, you looked at him from over your shoulder with hooded eyes. “I can not help it, husband,” you whimpered, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers breached your tight cunt mid-sentence. “You–” taking in a deep breath, “you are just too tantalizing and make me want you so desperately… please.”

A hum rumbled in his chest at your words. “Patience,” he simply mused, continuing the ministrations of his fingers. The pleasure that soared through your body had you grinding your hips against his hand, chasing as much friction as possible. But before your peak could wash over you, his touch left your body, his arm pulled from your grasp to place the hand on your hip.

Your mouth opened and closed without any words leaving your lips, slowly processing what had happened, and when it opened again, he was quick to cut you off.

“On the bed.”

Moving too slow for his liking, he pushed you towards your marital bed, and you sat down at the edge of it, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

Aemond stood not too far away from you, giving you the perfect view of his flushed chest and the large bulge of his confined member in the front of his breeches. Your breath hitched in your throat as his nimble fingers started to undo the last laces of them. He ridded himself of the dark fabric, kicking it aside as it pooled around his ankles to walk towards you.

His member stood to full attention, a slight curve to it and the tip slightly flushed in the same color of his lips. It had you squeezing your thighs to suppress the aching between them that yearned to be soothed by him. By it.

Before he was able to touch your chest to push you flat on the bed, you gripped his wrist, staring up at him with determination flickering in your eyes. “Everything,” you said, trying to not let the slight tremble in your voice become too audible.

His one good eye widened in surprise, his brow raised. For several moments, Aemond remained silent, taking in your words and the request implicit in it. To you, it felt as if you had pushed your luck with him taking a tad too long, but the softening of his gaze betrayed the genuine interest he found in your proposal.

He was half tempted to do what you requested just to surprise you, to gawk at your expression at seeing what he had hidden beneath the leather all this time. Would it be worth taking the risk of scaring you for the rest of your lives?

There was a flush creeping onto his cheeks, you spotted it even in the dim light the candles granted, it was there. His stiff posture coaxed you to get back onto your feet, standing in front of him.

The proximity and the softness and reassurance of your gaze made it difficult for him to deny you, yet you knew you mayhaps had asked too much of him. “Issa sȳz,” you whispered, cupping his face. “Gaomā daor emagon naejot urnēptre nyke.” It is fine. You do not have to show me.

You were not sure what you were expecting of him, but certainly not his next words. “Jaelā naejot ūndegon ziry?” You want to see it?

Raising a brow, you pressed your lips into a thin line while the corners pulled into a slight smile. “Kesan daor henujagon, nyke kivio.” Aemond’s eye widened again, but this time with something indefinable flickering in it. I will not leave, I promise.

Reluctantly, his hand came up to cup yours, inching it closer towards the eyepatch. Your eyes flickered between them and his good one, the slight bow of his head giving you the reassurance you needed to continue. Carefully undoing the clasp at the back of his head, you removed the patch of leather.

With it slowly lowering, Aemond took in a deep breath and closed his eye as if he meant to brace himself for your impending rejection - yet it never came. There was silence, yes, but he could not hear any sounds of disgust or shock, and he was not sure if he liked that.

Opening his eye, Aemond was blessed by plain curiosity written all over your features. There was concern and interest alike etched into them as you inspected the glimmering sapphire, and suddenly it made sense why he had gifted you a necklace with the same gemstone the day you turned ten-and-four.

His mood seemed to thaw, and his lips twisted into a smile the moment he spotted one of your hands reaching for the delicate pendant hanging around your neck, rubbing it between your fingers and seemingly noticing that you had been linked to one another all those years.

Staring at him, not the precious gemstone in the socket of his eye, you captured his lips in a kiss that had him grunting once, his arms wrapping around your body. A haze of desire and want clouded your mind, as this kiss turned into all teeth and tongue.

Aemond slowly herded you against the bed, toppling over onto the mattress the moment your calves hit the edge and caused you to lose your balance.

The kiss, however, did not break. With your hands still on his jaw, he shifted onto his side, barely parting your mouths and allowing you to crawl further onto the bed while his lips chased yours hungrily.

Aemond moved to tower over you and ran his hand along the outside of your leg, traveling from your ankle up to the curve of your hip. As you tried to sit up, he squeezed your flesh harshly enough to have a giggle die on your tongue, and pulled you towards him, the force of it sending your head back into the pillows. You squealed in surprise and stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes, the desire in your veins reigniting.

Your lips parted into the perfect ‘o’-shape the moment Aemond’s finger slid in you, a sight that almost had him spilling his seed right then and there. “Gods,” you whimpered, your back arching against him as one of your hands grabbed his shoulder.

Spurred on by your sounds and the sight of you unraveling beneath him, he inserted another digit. The way your cunt squeezed his fingers so tightly did not make it easier for him to hold back, the thoughts of it being replaced by his cock sooner or later clouding his mind.

“That’s it,” Aemond purred, moving his fingers at a torturously slow pace, completely mesmerized as he watched your face contort in pleasure and your body react to his touch. But no amount of curiosity could fool you, knowing that he had not listened to you.

“You are teasing me again,” you whined, and with your impatience getting the worst of you, you hooked both legs around his waist, using them to pull yourself closer towards what your body desired. Now it was Aemond looking at you with parted lips, his breathing coming out ragged. When you reached for his hard cock, straining against his lower belly, you saw the bump in his throat bob and felt his member twitch in your hand.

The innocent in your eyes was gone, a sly smirk now draped across your lips. He raised a brow, but did not stop your hand from slowly dragging across it, tugging on him in the rhythm he had set.

“Give me what I desire,” you panted, rolling your hips against his hand to race for completion. “Please.”

It was evident that with your hand on his cock that he was not able to form one coherent thought, and much to your disliking, he used the hand that previously was between your legs to seize your wrist, pinning your hand to your belly.

“My love,” he rasped, raising his brows. “We have had many times to practice with our mouths and fingers, but this will be a new experience for you, and I want you to be thoroughly prepared for it.”

You nodded softly, understanding his concern, “we have waited for this night for so long. You have prepared me well, Aemond. Please, let me enjoy you… I am ready.”

All was lost when you pushed your soaked mound against his cock, trapping it in between your bodies. Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and not having had him inside of you before, you were surprised at how different it already felt merely pressing against your swollen lips. The moan you released was wanton, pleasure and surprise both filling your veins.

His grip on your wrist tightened at that, and his eyes darkened in a way you had not seen before. It sent a shiver down your spine, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Without a word, Aemond released your wrist and grabbed the base of his cock. Sitting back on his haunches, he lined his cock with your entrance but did not push inside. “Jaelā bisa?” he asked, a concerned edge to his voice that asked for your reassurance. You want this?

Hooded eyes gazed at him as you bowed your head slowly, your heavy breathing and hardened nipples showing just how much you wanted it. “Kessa.” Yes.

A shuddered breath escaped him as he thrusted into you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Even if he wanted to go faster, your cunt was choking him so tight, there was no chance for him to do so without spending himself. He pushed inside at an agonizingly slow pace, every ridge and vein of him dragged along your walls.

He had prepared you tonight, and he had prepared you all the nights before that, but it still felt entirely different to what you had expected, if not even painful. You winced, and on cue, your body went rigid.

Aemond gripped your hip with such force it was meant to bruise in the following days, not making your discomfort any easier. “Gods, shit, I–” he grunted, taking in a deep breath and stilling his movements. He had yet to bottom out completely, but your ease was his priority.

“‘Tis alright,” he cooed, running one hand along your side in a calming manner. His other grabbed yours and pinned it above your head with your fingers intertwined. Dipping his head down, his lips captured yours in a gentle kiss. It was languid, sensual even, and did not lack any passion.

You arched your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiated off his body and relaxing almost instantly. Aemond used the opportunity to gently push the rest of his manhood into you, giving you time to adjust to his size once he was sheathed inside.

You both released a deep breath at the same moment, fanning across each other’s kiss swollen lips. There was a burning inside of you, and you felt filled to the brim, yet it did not sting as badly as it had before.

“Gods be good,” he rasped, voice tinted with deep desire, “you were made for me. You were always meant to be mine.” Light kisses trailed along your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he could not spot the color his words forced onto your cheeks.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you craned your neck and granted him more access, drowning in the calming feeling of his lips on your skin and the burning desire that pooled between your legs. “Feels s-so good,” you half-moaned, half-whimpered, and Aemond took that as his cue to move.

His eye searched your face for any sign of discomfort, as if there was the possibility of you only saying it to please him. When he found none, he began rutting his hips into yours. The pace was slow, just like it had been throughout the whole night, and despite it being unsaid, you both knew that was not what this night was about. It was about your unity, making peace with your past and embracing your future together.

Entangling your other hand in his silver strands, you gently tugged on them, tilting his head back to the point you were able to press your lips to his throat. Aemond groaned, and in response to his cock throbbing inside of you, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me… Tell me how I make you feel,” he stammered, breathlessly. His jaw was set, and the bump in his throat bobbed against your lips each time he swallowed his saliva. You mewled against his flushed skin, slightly sucking it between your lips only to release it a few seconds after.

Running your hand from the back of his head down his spine, it rested on his arse, gently squeezing his flesh. “So good,” you panted, pressing a chaste kiss to his throat. “... incredible.”

Aemond buried his face in the crook of your neck, driving himself into you with a little more determination and force. His body was rutting against your little bud in a way that had the familiar feeling of your peak settling in the pit of your belly, even tingling in the soles of your feet.

It must have been obvious to him how close you were with your walls trembling and the grip of your legs around his waist tightening; he squeezed your hand once, twice, before grunting against your skin, “peak for me. Can you do that, mh?”

Far too lost in the pleasure his presence granted you, you nodded your head, humming a ‘hmm’ as you wanted nothing more than to please him. And with your peak crashing over you, you did just that.

A row of wanton moans and whimpers slipped past your lips, growing in volume each time his cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside of you. With your convulsing walls, stars also started to cloud your vision, and it felt as if dragonfire was spreading throughout your body.

“Please,” you begged, digging your nails into the back of his hand and the flesh of his arse. Aemond hissed at the stinging pain, but his hips did not falter. “Let me give you an heir,” you whined, “put your son in me. Kostilus… please.” It sounded more desperate than intended, but had the desired effect.

“Seven hells, fuck, yes!” His body went rigid as his twitching cock spent itself deep inside of your quivering walls. Your cunt was choking him, squeezing him so tightly it had his thrusts faltering, coming to a halt despite him still spilling his seed.

Aemond collapsed on top of you, trying to control his breathing with his face pressed into your dampened hair. Your body was limp, and while a steady breath came quicker to you than him, you weren’t able to do much more than trace your fingers over his back in mindless patterns.

He pulled out of you as he rolled onto his side, fingers still intertwined with yours and no intention of letting go so soon. You watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

It was surprising you both when you reached out to ghost your index finger over the red scar that emerged below his eye, an expression of concern crawling onto your features with Aemond wincing slightly.

“Gaomagon daor mirre ruaragon hen nyke arlī,” you whispered, your eyes flickering from his lips up to meet his good one. Do not ever hide from me again. A chuckle came from him, juxtaposed by the nod of his head. “Avy jorrāelan, tolī.” I love you, too.

Pressing your lips into a thin line was a fruitless attempt to stop them from pulling into a wide grin, and you giggled softly, before your arm wrapped around his neck to pull yourself against him. Mounting him like your beloved Silverwing, you straddled his hips, his cock already half-hard again.

His member and the whispy hairs around it were glistening in the dim light similar to the sapphire in the socket of his eye, yet it was for a completely different reason. Your mixed juices leaked out of your cunt, coating him and claiming him just like he had claimed you as his before.

“I might be yours, but you are just as much mine,” you said.

Aemond smirked at you, before sitting up a little and cupping your face with both hands. His lips collided against yours, pulling you down and consuming you with a kiss that was less chaste than the ones you had shared before, swallowing you in passion.

Sleep hardly found you in the hours that followed, and if it did, it was only to be interrupted again by lingering kisses and touches, making up for the years you had gone without.

Taglist: @seabasscevans @dixie-elocin @thelittleswanao3@gemini-mama

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munsons-maiden · 10 months

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𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Here's a little oneshot for you, lovelies! I hope you enjoy 🖤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (no physical descriptions, though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this request: could i request maybe eddie brings reader to a deal but wants her to stay in the van so she’s safe but the people he’s dealing to see her because she walked out to tell eddie something and it doesn’t go so well. and after the situation eddie and her argue but eddie’s upset and just what’s to protect her 🥺 but ofc it ends well🫡

- I hope you like it, dear!🖤

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fights turning into love confessions, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst with a happy ending, attempted (sexual) assault

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

You can barely make out your surroundings, the little dirt path leading you deeper into the woods, in the darkness between the trees as you slowly draw closer – the moon and stars have vanished behind the clouds as if they’ve gone into hiding, and the taste of a summer storm already laces the stuffy air.

In all these years of being Eddie Munson’s friend, there’s been one simple rule when it comes to him meeting his customers for a drug deal:

Stay in the car.

The customers are harmless. It’s the cops I’m worried about, he tells you, expression stern, whenever you crack a joke about him being scared you could scare away a customer.

It’s tiny little Hawkins, and the deals gone wrong that sometimes make it into the TV news or newspaper headlines are over coke and heroin and all the hard stuff Eddie would never sell, not over something as harmless as weed or the occasional pill of ketamine.

Tonight has been no different.

It was supposed to be a quick deal on your way to the Carnival two towns over at Sycamore where you’re supposed to meet the rest of Hellfire.

Some new customer sent by Reefer Rick.

But the longer you’ve been sitting in Eddie’s van, in the dark, in the middle of the lonely road that cuts through the woods surrounding Hawkins…this nagging feeling started to grow in your chest. First into worry, then into outright panic when you’d watched the clock on the old van’s display tick, one minute turning into five, and five into ten.

What if something went wrong?

What if something horrible happened to him?

What if Eddie needs your help?

You wanted to tell him, tonight at the fair, beneath the see of glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. That you’re in love with him. That you’ve been, for a very long time. That even if he doesn’t feel the same, you need to say it out loud, how you first fell for all the tiny little pieces that make him Eddie and then wholly and utterly and completely.

When ten minutes bled into fifteen, and your mind had come up with the most horrid scenarios fueled by news coverage of drug deals breaking into violence, conjuring up gruesome images of Eddie bleeding out between the ferns and brambles covering the forest floor, blood soaking the moss, you couldn’t stay cooped up in the confines of his old van a second longer.

You broke Eddie’s one rule. You left the car and went looking for him.

As you’re now traipsing along the small dirt path cutting through the brambles and ferns, the fabric of your summer dress you’ve spent an entire weekend picking out at the mall just so Eddie might finally start seeing you as something else as his friend, sticking to your sweaty skin and thorns scratching at your legs, you realize that even if Eddie needs your help…how the fuck would you even be able to help him?

It’s not like you’re carrying a gun in the little bag you’re clutching at your side.

The sound of voices startles you out of your thoughts, and in the dark, your eyes lock on the two silhouettes in the little clearing ahead of you.

You recognize Eddie first – you’d recognize him everywhere.

He’s standing with his back to you. Even with the remaining distance between the two of you, the darkness of the woods, you can tell that his shoulders are tense.

His whole body is holding a kind of tension you’ve only ever seen on him once before, a few years ago, when his deadbeat father had shown up at the trailer park drunken and shouting curses into the wind before Eddie had dragged you into the safety Wayne’s trailer.

A twig snaps beneath your sneakers, and both Eddie and his customer whirl around to you.

And you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.

The guy in front of Eddie is no nervous classmate, not one of the chill stoner guys always hanging around beneath the bleachers. No friendly family dad or stressed housewife looking for a little relaxation or piece of rebellion.

The guy’s buzzcut does nothing to soften the harsh angles of his face, the lines around his mouth formed by the frown that seems to be engraved there.

There’s something menacing in his eyes as they lock on you.

Something evil and predatory.

The guy licks his lips, and his mouth curls into a lewd smirk, a twisted mirror to the abysmal panic in Eddie’s wide eyes as he stares at you.

You can read them like the pages of an open book.

What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car!

The guy slaps a meaty hand on Eddie’s shoulder, hard enough to make Eddie sway a little on his feet with the impact. And contrary to what the jocks at Hawkins High believe, Eddie is strong.

“And at first I thought you’d brought the cops,” the guy laughs – but it’s not a friendly laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either. He’s got muscles. A lot of them, flexing beneath his skin as he lets his arm sink from Eddie’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t do that to your old friend though, would you? Instead, you brought me a present.”

There’s an eagle tattooed across the guy’s throat, wings spread wide. It’s fitting, this bird of prey marking him. You feel like a tiny little robin beneath his gaze.

Eddie’s eyes haven’t left you for a single second.

“I told you to stay in the car.” His voice is strained with barely suppressed fury and, above all else…panic.

“Nah, we’re good,” the guy grins, letting his eyes roam over you.

Making you wish you were wearing something other than a short little summer dress.

“Come on closer, little birdie,” he drawls, “Don’t be shy now.”

“Go back to the car,” Eddie says, louder, the vehemence of his tone flashing in his panicked eyes. His voice is trembling. “Now.”

“What, you don’t want to introduce us?” The man drawls. The threat in his own voice is as clear and tangible as the panic in Eddie’s umber eyes as he shakes his head, the movement subtle, barely visible. Go, he mouths. Now.

At the guy, he adds, “I thought we were here to talk about business.”

“You want me to focus on business when you brought your pretty girl with you, boy?” The guy makes a beckoning motion at you, still frozen like a deer in the headlights, rooted to your spot only feet away from him and Eddie. “Come closer, doll. Don’t be shy now.”

“No,” Eddie interjects, fervor smoothing his voice as it cuts through the rain-laced air of the clearing, despair flashing out beneath the panic, “She’s not part of this.”

You’re scared out of your mind.

But hell will freeze over before you leave Eddie alone with this man.

So you do what the guy told you.

You step closer, coming to stand beside Eddie.

“Tell you what, boy,” the man purrs, tearing his eyes off of you to meet Eddie’s, a flash of yellowed teeth in diffuse moonlight, as his smirk grows into a grin so devilish you wouldn’t have been surprised had they been pointed, “I’m gonna give you a few more bucks and you’re gonna give me a few minutes with your lovely lady here.”

Beside you, Eddie inches closer to you, shifting to place himself between the guy and you.

Trying to shield you with his own body, you realize.

Eddie Munson, who always swore he was no hero outside of D&D, is becoming your hero right now.

“I’ll give you everything I got with me right now, and you leave,” Eddie counters, voice hard.

A desperate attempt to get you out of this situation.

Almost completely hidden from the guy’s field of vision with Eddie having placed himself in front of you, his muscles taut and ready to fight, your hands slowly dive into the bag slung over your shoulder, fingertips carefully feeling for something, anything, to use to protect him, to protect both of you –

“Or,” the man drawls, taking a step closer, with the ease of a predator rounding in on a wounded fawn, “I’ll just take whatever you got and have some fun with your pretty lady.”

It happens too fast to see it coming.

There’s a snapping sound as the flick-knife the guy must have been holding, concealed in his meaty fist and the dark of night, is flipped open, the jagged blade flashing in the obscure beams of moonlight filtering through the clouds and the foliage of trees above your heads – and Eddie pushes you farther behind him.

Placing yourself between you and the knife’s path as he snaps, voice vibrating, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The man lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “And what are you gonna do, hm?”

There. Your fingers wrap around something smooth and cool nestled at the bottom of your bag.

And not a second too soon.

Before the guy can let the knife in his fist soar down to hurt Eddie, you duck around your friend, your own hand flying up as you press your index finger down in the spray bottle in your sweaty grip, sending a blast of hair spray straight into the guy’s face.

He screams, hands flying up to cover his eyes as he stumbles backwards, and the flick-knife lands between the ferns.

Eddie doesn’t waste a single second.

His hand finding yours, he pulls you away from the screaming, staggering man and pushes you towards the path that leads back to the road and the van and safety. Together, you break into a run.

You don’t notice the thorns of the brambles cutting your legs, the burn of your lungs, your muscles, because it all fades to white noise beneath the roaring of blood in your ears, the wild pounding of your heart, Eddie’s own racing steps behind you.

Only at the edges of your panic-addled mind you realize that he’s staying behind you to make sure you’ll get away, first.

The van comes up in the distance, a flash of white among the leaves and branches, and you feel the first tender burst of relief wash through you at the sight.

Eddie rips the driver’s side door open, all but shoving you inside and onto the passenger seat as he climbs in after you, and the old engine comes to life with a sputtering roar. The van jerks forwards with screeching tires as your hands shoot out to grab the door’s handle to avoid toppling over into the footwell.

As the vehicle bolts down the country road leading out of the woods, silence descends upon you, heavy and loud even beneath the roar of the engine, your own panting breaths slowly calming.

You cast Eddie a careful sideways glance.

He doesn’t look at you.

His eyes are glued to the road the way his foot is glued to the gas pedal, jaw set, and his knuckles clamped around the wheel are white.

You’ve never seen him so angry in all the time you’ve known him.

You’ve never felt so angry in all the time you’ve known him, either.

When the van emerges from the woods and lights of the carnival come into sight, the twinkling form of the Ferris wheel rising over the rolling fields of wheat covering the landscape, Eddie steers the vehicle to the side of the road.

By the time he cuts off the engine and pushes the driver’s door open with a force that makes you fear it’ll just rip off its hinges, he still hasn’t uttered a single word.

You reach for the latch in your own door, but before you can open it, Eddie has already rounded the hood, and the door is ripped open to reveal his face, unreadable and void of all the usual humor and goofiness.

“Are you okay?” It sounds strangely hollow, the way he says it.

“Eddie –“

“Are you okay?” It’s nearly a shout, but not an angry one. Only scared. So fucking scared that it makes his voice shake as much as his hands coming up to rake through his curls while his dark eyes roam over you in the diffuse moonlight over the field, the dim glow of the lights inside the van, scanning the tiny cuts decorating your face and arms and legs where the brambles and branches of the woods have left their marks during your flight.

You give a tentative nod.

The breath he seems to have been holding leaves in a sharp exhale as he rakes his hand through his dark curls once more, sending stray leaves falling out as he starts pacing at the edge of the road.

You climb out of the car.

And the storm that’s been building the past few minutes breaks lose – not in the sky, but down beneath it.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

Eddie has never shouted at you.

You’ve never shouted at him, either, but it breaks out of you like a flood-wave.

“ME?! THIS IS MY FAULT?!”

“YES! FUCKING HELL YES IT IS! SHIT. IF YOU HAD, JUST FOR ONCE, LISTENED –“

“ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE MEETING FUCKING KILLERS IN THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“THAT’S WHY I TOLD YOU TO STAY –“

“IF I’D STAYED IN THE CAR, YOU’D BE DEAD ON THE FOREST FLOOR NOW!” The thought of it, of Eddie, bleeding out between the ferns, scared and alone and in pain, makes the tears spill over and your voice shatter as you choke out the rest of the sentence in a miserable little whisper. “You’d be fucking dead!” Saying it aloud brings back the fury at him for being so fucking careless. “HE WAS ABOUT TO HURT YOU!”

“AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WAY BETTER THAN IF HE’D HURT YOU! I CAN’T LOSE YOU, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Eddie’s words shut you up.

They ring through the night, mingle with the soft summer breeze that ruffles the stalks of wheat in the nearby field, the rustling too loud in the shellshocked silence.

The tears which have been glittering in his dark eyes have started running down his pale cheeks.

For a few wild heartbeats, you just stare at each other in the moonlight piercing through the passing clouds, the glow of colorful lights of the fair at the edge of the field sending flares into the night, the stuffy summer night’s air pressing down on the two of you.

In a few quick strides, both of you cross the small distance between the two of you, meeting in the middle.

And then, you’re kissing.

And the world stills, heartbeat accelerating as panic and adrenaline bleed into something entirely else, something that’s been trapped within you for so long it takes a second to realize this, right now, is truly happening.

Eddie’s lips, soft and hot against yours, his palms cradling your face, the metal of his rings warm with the heat of his body as they press gently against your skin.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

He kisses you like he really, truly means it.

Because I fucking love you.

It’s better, so much better than even your wildest daydreams.

You know you’ll never want to kiss anyone else after this.

You know you don’t ever want this kiss to end.

It does, eventually. Eddie pulls away, wide-eyed and panting, lips slightly apart in a gape and curls in a tangled mess – from his own hands raking through it or yours right now, you can’t tell. Even in the half-dark of the night, you can see the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I – I’m sorry,” he breathes, the kiss-dazed gleam in his eyes making room for an appalled expression. “God, fuck, I’m – I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask –“

“I’ve been waiting for you to do this for a very long time,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.

For a moment, Eddie just stares at you, as if he’s contemplating whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “You, uh. You did?”

“Yeah,” you whisper into the few inches of between the two of you. “And now I’ll be waiting for you to do it again.”

He does. Not a single beat of hesitation.

This time, when Eddie’s lips meet yours, it’s softer, slower, yet just as intoxicating and feverish as that first kiss.

His hands snake up to cup your cheeks and angle your head as he slowly walks you backwards, until your back meets the side of the van, the metal still warm from the day and the sweltering night air, and butterflies flood your belly, your entire body, a colorful swarm of them making your skin tingle in all the places his body brushes against yours. His chest against yours, one of his knees between yours, his calloused fingertips gently trailing down the column of your throat.

Kissing Eddie Munson is as easy as breathing.

“I meant it,” he breathes into the kiss, before resting his forehead against yours, the curls of his bangs tickling you, “What I said. I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger.” He swallows. “And I’m so fucking much in love with you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling his smile. “I’ve been loving you for a very long time, Eddie.”

You place your hands over his, still holding your face.

“I was so fucking scared,” Eddie murmurs, voice trembling again with new tears. “Fuck. I was so stupid –“

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers squeezing his, “We’re safe. You saved me.”

“Shit, you saved me. What even was that? Pepper spray?”

You chuckle. “Farah Fawcett hair spray.”

Eddie blinks, before he gives a breathless little laugh, as if he’s not sure he’d rather laugh or cry. Probably both. “Pretty fucking metal.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you tonight,” you amend, and Eddie’s expression grows serious again.

“You always look pretty, sweetheart. I’ve been having a pretty hard time not ogling you every second we’re together.”

“You need to promise me you’ll never ever meet clients in the middle of the woods. Not at night. Not by day either. And –“

“I promise,” Eddie interrupts, voice sincere. “I’m gonna stick to the clients I know. No expanding the business.”

“Good,” you breathe, letting your hands fall away from his to lock them at the nape of his neck, fingertips playing with his dark curls.

“Your hair is really soft,” you breathe, lips not an inch from his, feeling stupid all of a sudden for saying it out loud, but Eddie replies with an adorable little giggle that makes your heart soar and race and squeeze with love all at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s…uh. Don’t laugh. It’s Farah Fawcett conditioner.”

Your own soft laugh fades into the night as Eddie’s lips find yours again, the summer storm brewing over your heads and the glittering lights of the carnival in the distance and the moment of terror in the woods blurring against the radiant joy of knowing the one you love loves you back just as much.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

Requests for angst/smangst remain open. If you want to check out my works in progress, here's the list🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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etheries1015 · 6 months

Text

MC lives just as lonely as Malleus does, and he thinks to himself...perhaps they could be lonely together?

Loneliness was not something you were unaccustomed to, and perhaps your hopes got a little too high coming to NRC. Although you had Grim Ace and Deuce on the occasion, the majority of students pretended as if you did not exist. This was fine, you said. It isn't different than before. You were used to not particularly having many friends, keeping to yourself, and guarding your heart from the world. You could not be open as you had dreamed of being, for every time you had shown your true nature, being turned away from had become the norm in your life.

But loneliness can fester and turn into self-loathing, tears sprinkling down your cheeks as you sat on the little broken bench in front of Ramshackle, staring out into the dark emptiness of the worn-down garden that hadn't been tended to for quite some time. You could truly sympathize with the garden- perhaps a few people came here and there to tend to the flowers, yet eventually everyone leaves, desolate and alone the floral slowly wither away into nothing. Much as yourself, growing thorns around your battered heart, for being alone is better than being betrayed by the lies of those who claim to care.

However you convince yourself to continue on, choking down those ugly emotions by painting a smile and playing one big game of pretend- for nobody likes to hear the woes of a person known to be an optimist and the face of a proper prefect; their world or otherwise.

Malleus, however, knew that face all too well. He knew from the moment he first met you in the front gates of your run-down dorms, although you spoke to him like any other student, he could see you and him were alike; surrounded by fake smiles and false pretenses of friendship for their benefit or enjoyment. He understood the differences between realness and a front, a mask he noticed you often put on in front of everyone else. Yet with him... you were very much real, and honest, despite sheltering the deepness of your personality in the depths of your heart you hadn't made it a point to lie to the prince as you had gotten to become close to him. He desperately found himself wanting to know you- pulling apart the layers, he wanted to learn more about who you were, about the things you liked, how you felt, how to see the world, to finally rid himself of his loneliness by inviting another to share his burdens; and he was terrified of it all the same.

Malleus grew up understanding his duties and knowing the facade he had to put on in front of everyone else- he knew he had to be the perfect prince, a leader, the face of a country, and the spokesperson of his people. Yet around you...he was free to talk about anything and everything under the sun and moon without judgment, without fear of tainting his name, without the shackles of princehood holding him down. He had people fear him, running away at the simple sight of his horns, and avoiding him as if Malleus were the plague himself. He knew he was destined to be truly alone- that was, until he found someone to be himself around. Although you were often by your lonesome and kept to yourself, you had always found a way to lift his spirits, smiling at him with genuine interest rather than the plastic he was sick of staring at.

That is why he was utterly shocked when he found you staring at the garden, tears pooling down your cheeks with that same look he had been all that familiar with. He had quietly sat next to you on the bench, noticing your melancholic gaze not leaving the garden although you now had company beside you. Together you sat in the silence of understanding, until you had taken a shaky breath and choked out a feeble cry of help.

"I'm tired of being lonely," Was all you said. Malleus felt his hand creep over to yours, gently grasping it and squeezing it with a slight tremble.

"You do not have to be," He said, turning his emerald eyes to stare into your own, "I...am here now." You pursed your lips and nodded slightly, leaning your body against the tall Faes strong build. There was not much to say, not much to do, yet in contrast it seemed as if the puzzle had simple put itself together in one aura of familiarity and assimilation without verbal articulation .

Silence reigned once more...two solitary souls finding comfort in one another's presence.

...For however long it'll last.

#Twisted wonderland #twst #Twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus #Malleus x reader #Malleus draconia x reader #Twst headcannons #twisted wonderland headcannons #Tired of finding solace in video games #Kind of self induldgent ngl

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greycaelum · 6 months

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Ok im gonna drop this here for u to write it whenever u want,cause its been hunting me

Royalty au where gojo and reader are living happily,that is until someone poisons his queen when they're having dinner together.

She drinks the wine,and suddenly falls to the ground while throwing up blood and blood running from her eyes. Shoko manages to save her and geto holds gojo back so he doesnt do anything stupid. But when his queen wakes up she's really weak so shoko tells gojo about a flower that'll heal her up,so gojo leaves in order to search for it.

But when he's back,geto leads him to the flower garden the queen loves and he finds her among the flowers,a little better and seeing her not on deadbed has him running toward her,lifting her up and spinning while both of them laugh and kiss

Happy ending

Scribbles & Doodles—Lotus Tears

—Elven Emperor Gojo Satoru X Human Empress Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day. He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content. "For you, always, My Flower."

𑁍 Genre: historical fantasy, elves/faes, dark magic if you squint, interracial marriage

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (4.3k)— poison, mad Satoru, elven traditions and cultures, fluff, angst, comfort, implication of major character death, mating bonds, talks of rebirth

𑁍 ✒️☕: Hi to the person who sent this ask. Pardon the very long wait, but I loved writing this one, I just need to say your ask is one of my fave ideas for elf Satoru so I tweaked some things, fantasy tropes are my favorite to write to escape canon~ Grey,

At night when you lay in their bed, your head atop his chest, he cannot sleep a wink for he has forever to spare and only a lifetime with you in his arms. For such a fragile flower, even a man who has grown bleak and untouched over the long passage of time, Satoru cannot help but stroke your head gently, scaring the pixies who would try to sneak in to soak with his mate's presence. He doesn't know if it's a good thing or bad that his mate is loved by the small faes. But one thing is for sure, he doesn't delight that they are trying to pry you awake from his arms. It's no secret he doesn't like sharing... especially when it's about you.

For a human to become the Empress of the High Courts is an unheard thing. Improbable would be the word. And you do not need to know what methods Satoru used to make this happen. Because you already knew that behind his delicate beauty, lies the prickly thorns that wield the absolute power over nature. There is a reason why he was able to rule undisputedly in the indifferent flow of nature over the passage of time.

When he married you, he knew he would uproot the earth and supplant it again and again to give whatever you desired. He is the supreme ruler and Emperor of the High Courts and would only sheath his indifference in the presence of his Empress. He has broken down the millennial walls covering his heart and found himself enthralled by the maiden who never feared the Dark Woods. She found beauty in the mystery of the borders, and he found solace in her presence. She has grown to be his beloved Flower.

Fortunately for you, even as a born human, you have adapted to the faes far quicker. Learning their language and making up for your lack of magic, you learned diplomacy. It was not easy to learn such an intricate affair, but fortune has smiled upon you, with Satoru, who has boundless knowledge of the matter to be your tutor.

"Is this adequate enough?" Satoru hopefully looked at you in the mirror and the craft he had finished for a satisfactory answer.

"Satoru, we are not going to any gathering, are we?" You chuckled as you sat in front of the golden mirror while Satoru stood behind, holding an ivory comb in his hand as he carefully brushed your silky tresses. Small flowers adorned your hair like trinkets as he wove them skillfully into a braid. At this point, your handmaidens have lost their job, with your mate attending to almost everything you need unless he is away for the court.

"At least let me do this before I leave for my duties." He brought the tip of your hair to his lips, kissing it as he stared at you, a longing look on his face. This prompt you to turn the chair and face the elven emperor.

"Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day.

He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content.

"For you, always, My Flower." Satoru tilted your chin and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I do not wish to leave." He grumbled and connected your forehead, staring right into your eyes.

Your soft chuckle fluttered through his ears as you reached to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes. A sense of tranquility floated in your orbs bringing his heart into a puddle of cotton.

"I will wait for you at dinner, Satoru. So the earlier you finish the earlier we see each other. Alright?"

"Alright, as you wish." Satoru sighed and kissed the tip of your nose. "The things you make me do..."

He never thought he would one day sit under the shade of foliage with his Empress on his lap, reading through some parchments while he pilfered some wildflowers to braid her hair. Or to walk while gently pulling the reins of his equine, leading the elk through safe passages whilst you ride on the back. Things he never imagined and things he never thought he would do. But the second you came it all seemed natural for him to indulge you in every way possible.

You are like a brittle glass flower to him that he cannot help but wrap you in the most flawless silks and softest ermine furs. You evoke in him a firm sense of fierce protectiveness.

So imagine the horror and derangement inside him when you were still smiling and talking with him at the dinner table but suddenly blood flowed down your nose, followed by a series of coughs drawing blood from your throat as you dropped to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

If it wasn't for his friend Suguru, a Dragon Lord who he has grown with, who happened to visit the very same day only to pin him down in his rampage of killing the perpetrators hiding in the imperial kitchen staff, perhaps one-fourth of the castle must've already been slaughtered.

All he could see was red. The burning flames consuming the imperial castle and the wilting forest mirrored the despair in his heart. He couldn't hear that his people were wailing for him. All he could ever see was his mate dying each second from the potent poison coursing in her bloodstream.

"Don't touch her!"

He snarled with pure frenzy when Shoko tried to reach out to your unmoving body in his arms.

"Satoru, Shoko is only going to heal her. Your mate needs help." Suguru tried to reason with the livid, elven emperor cradling the unmoving body of his bleeding empress. "She would not do anything to her, only help her."

Suguru could see how unfocused and distraught the dark blue eyes of his friend were, so far from his usual calm and regal sense. Satoru's eyes were bloodshot red. Thankfully, he didn't move when Shoko reached out again to heal his mate.

A faint color of life returned to your face, but you were still as pale as alabaster, still unconscious. The fire consuming the woods slowly died down... A slight sense of sanity returned to Satoru, who held you close, ready to hide you from the world if not for Shoko's words.

"She's in moratorium state... I've only managed to stabilize her body and freeze the poison to stop it from spreading further. Right now, we need to find an antidote... Or else she will only have seven days to live. For now, let's take the Empress to a safe place." Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose as she looked back to the fire slowly dying down, leaving shared trees and ashes. "And fix the chaos you have ignited, Your Majesty, the Emperor."

There are, but severely few times he let his emotions overcome him. He could count it in his hand. But ever since that sight of your throwing up blood, Satoru experienced a myriad of emotions he thought he was never capable of.

Fear... Despair... Uselessness... and most of all heartbreak...

You don't know how many millions of times his soul has shattered in every second he held your cold hand whilst he channeled all healing spell he knows into your body as you sleep on the cradle of the sacred tree cushioned by wildflowers and vines dangling down the archaic branches of the colossal wood. It seems you're merely asleep, but it feels like it's been forever since he last saw your eyes. The reality is that day by day, you are losing your life while all he can do is sit here, rooted in place, too afraid that if he steps away, he might not see you again.

"Your Majesty..." Shoko came forward. The Emperor has been sitting here for three days straight beside his dying mate in silence holding her hand, unmoving, and would attack anyone who dares to step one foot closer to the lying Empress. The court matters have been neglected, with only the elders holding the court together in his absence. The woodlands are closely related to the essence of the Emperor. The depression of his heart manifested in the woods, which gradually lost the green leaves and were replaced by withered branches...

"I have found a possible cure for the Empress."

Shoko had never felt strong empathy, but she did feel a bit of ache for her friend when he raised his head at her, almost pleading with his bloodshot eyes.

"Speak."

"Do you remember the Sacred Tombs of Tvar?"

The sacred burial grounds of the late Empresses. It's deep-seated in the heart of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs, guarded by the mythical beasts his forefathers have created to protect the resting place of the late Imperial Rulers.

"What about it?" Satoru has only been there once when his Imperial Father has taken him to visit his late Mother. It's a mystical mountain filled with ancient elements, from the creatures to the plants, that can only be heard in folklore.

"For high faes like us, the poison the Empress has induced was nothing serious. But to humans, it is lethal." Shoko sighed. "The spell I cast was only a valve to keep the poison at bay until we can find an antidote. On the seventh day, when the sun rises, the spell will cease to exist, and the poison will corrode her bo—"

"Tell me, what should I do? Anything Shoko. I would kill if I had to." The bones on his knuckles protruded with his clenched fists. The Emperor cut her off. He would not hear her say such ominous words about his mate's life.

He would uproot the earth to find anything that can cure you. Anything.

"Killing might be going too far, but it's not impossible." Shoko took out from her robe a parchment containing a sketch of what seemed like a flower and handed it to her Emperor. She never slept over the three days in a desperate search for any cure. "There's a flower that can only be seen in the Sacred Tombs of Tvar that may be able to save the Empress. As we all know, only the direct descendant of the Imperial Family can enter the Mountain of Hanging Tombs."

The Mountain of Hanging Tombs is as ominous as the name implies. It's a mountain range covered with black mist and ferocious mythical animals and exotic plants. It's not that only the direct descendants of the Imperial Elven Bloodline can enter the mountains, but the lower beasts residing on the foot of the mountains refrain from attacking an imperial descendant since they are born from the first Emperor's blood as well. No ordinary fae can survive these mythical beasts, and could only result in death. Thus, it has become known not to venture deep into the mountains.

Satoru, however, wasted no time to cross the valleys leading to the burial grounds. He needs to find that flower.

Lotus Tears...

It is said that the flower can heal any illness. However, it's impossible to scour for the elusive flower, which roots deep only in the burial grounds of the Empresses and leave unscathed from the toxic plants and mythical animals on top of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs that will attack him at any given second.

"Why do you always put the flower on my left ear? I'm not yet married." You asked him during one of the days he stayed longer to watch over you as you searched for some wild, beautiful flowers in the woods.

Satoru stared at the magenta lilacs he conjured from his hands and tucked them into your left ear.

"You look beautiful in any shade of purple..." It matches the color of his robe.

You pursed your lips and huffed clearly not satisfied by his vague answer.

"You didn't answer my question, Satoru."

He chuckled at your angry face, bopping your nose, making you annoyed as you tried to punch him clumsily. The little girl still has the same pout even as she bloomed into a prim and proper lady. It was too adorable even to be called 'angry.' He jumps down the tree and walks up to you, bringing the tip of your hair to his lips for a soft parting salutation.

"Next time... I will tell you, My Precious Flower." With that, he took you to the borders of the human village and the dark woods, as your Mother was already looking for you. He watches you run into the light while slowly walking back into the shadows.

Maybe... He should have never forced this fate on you. You may have called on him in desperation to flee from the humans chasing after you, but he, being the one who knew better, should have returned you to your realm rather than letting his selfishness devour him and claim you as his mate. If he had done so, then you wouldn't have met this predicament.

You wouldn't have been lying in your blood, cold like a corpse...

"Where is she?" Satoru's heart felt like it was dying when he saw that your body was gone from the bed of the sacred tree. "Where is my mate?! Shoko!"

Did he lose you? Did he come too late?

He stared at the blue lotus he so carefully dug out of the perilous mountain despite the throbbing pain on his shoulders after a chimera managed to bite him before he could slay it.

No, you cannot leave him like this... Oxygen left his lungs, and his feet staggered, unable to support the weight of heaven, crushing his soul. His vision is going black, not like this. He barely got to dote on you. Barely got to drown you with the love he has secretly hidden all these years. No, no, no. Satoru's throat ran dry. He wants to scream as if the tearing of his heart wasn't enough to shout his despair.

The forest closely linked to his essence slowly wilted as if joining their Emperor in his mourning. The leaves slowly dried up. The flowers closed, and the vines started shrinking to twigs. His sorrow is mirrored by nature.

His mind went black, his heart slowly crumbled in every passing second that his eyes could not see you. Why did the gods despise him to tear apart the only joy he has ever touched for what seems like an eternity?

"Satoru!" Suguru found him in haste after the forest slowly grew darker and darker.

Who knew that his apathetic friend could have this vast amount of emotions to turn the lush evergreen forest into a barren land? Suguru wasted no time to drag what seemed to be a lifeless Satoru into a maze-like garden.

Shoko was there. She immediately snatched the mystical lotus from the Emperor. Satoru could care. All things pale in comparison to his mate... All things. He dropped to his knees, holding onto your hand.

"Y-Y/n?" Satoru's throat was parched as he saw your sleeping body, with the wilting grass around, as if you were truly taken away into the underworld... This was your favorite garden... All flowers in here, he has grown with his own hands. Not it seems like he has planted those flowers only to send you off to the afterlife. "No, you can't do this to me, My Flower... I would lose my mind." He muttered like a madman, bringing your cold hands to rub against his cheeks, desperately searching for any signs of warmth but finding nothing...

Suguru tried to pry him away from your frail body, but his malevolence met those who tried to separate you from him until the Dragon Lord had no choice but to use all means to knock Satoru out...

The last thing he saw was your sleeping face as he desperately begged his eyes not to close... He needs to see you, to be beside you... to hold you...

"Satoru...?" You were both sitting under the shade of a magnolia tree with his head on your lap, eyes closed from the glaring sun, meanwhile, you intertwined his lustrous hair into a loose braid, tucking little flowers in your masterpiece.

"Hmm?" It was one of the days when he had enough time to traverse the hills with you and meet other fae tribes so you may have time away from the Imperial Courts.

"Promise me that if the memories we have together start to hurt... you will forget me."

His eyes opened in a split second, and he looked back with furrowed brows only to meet your small smile.

"That is nonsense. I would never wish to forget you. You are my mate." Satoru sat straight and took your hand in his. "What led you to this ominous thought, My Flower? Do not think of such things, we are bonded for eternity."

You gently shake your head.

"You're an elf... I'm a human. Our life span runs differently. Some day... You will have to remember me longer than you have held me..." The bitterness of your eyes was quickly concealed as you closed them. "That's simply the order of nature..."

Satoru was tongue-tied... He cannot face that reality yet... Not yet... If ever the Lady of Light is listening to him, he prays that the sun and moon slow down... Forever never seems to be enough...

Forever will never be enough...

"Satoru...?"

He wishes never to wake up. If you're not in the world he opens his eyes to, he may as well live in this fantasy. He has lived such a long time in solitude. So even if it's just a fragment of imagination or make-believe, he would choose that sweet lie rather than face the cold reality you're gone...

"Satoru..."

Your voice... It's sweeter than the sirens and softer than the small faes singing with the birds in early dawn...

A soft touch brushed off the fringes on his temples, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Unable to bear the brightness, his eyes opened and looked up to the blue sky...

Slowly, his blurry eyes met your worried ones as you tucked your hair behind your ear while staring at him with his head laying on your lap.

"You're finally awake... Thank goodness!" You sighed and smiled. "Welcome home, Satoru..."

Your hair... It's not the same color as it was... It shone a bright silver like his under the sunlight, which only the imperial descendants can inherit... But he knew it was you... His soul tells him so.

"Y-Y/n?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks that have grown prominent... more elf-like... "This isn't a dream?"

Your sweet chuckle filled his ears as your warm palms held his and pressed it to your cheeks, kissing his wrist.

"I must've worried you so... I'm sorry, but I'm fine now... because of you."

You're really warm... So warm, you melted the millennial thorny wall he built around his heart. Your palms are so dainty compared to him, but they have always been able to soothe him more than anything else.

"You... You look like me..." Satoru slowly sat up as he took in your features. "My Flower... you look like a fae..." Satoru is a bit confused about the sudden transformation. You look just as you are, but the silver hair, pointy ears, and sharper features...

"It must've been because of the flower's healing attributes," Shoko explained, taking a step forward to assess the changes on you, who indeed looks like an elf now.

"Explain, Shoko." Satoru looked at the woman as he was adamant about answers.

"The flowers had healing attributes; it's just a speculation, but aside from healing, we all know that lotus also signifies rebirth. The flower may have deemed it necessary to change the human blood running in the Empress's veins into elven blood for her to heal from the poison fully... As for the silver hair, I can only think that since the Lotus Tears came from the sacred buriel grounds of the late Empresses, it must have absorbed most of their remaining energy and passed it on to the Empress through the flower's healing attributes..."

"Does that mean my Mate is now an elf?" Satoru cannot believe how these events have turned out for you and him. He took your hand and studied your features... You are still you, but indeed, there swirls a more mystical air around you, and only a faint scent of human blood is left lingering in you.

"The Empress is not yet fully an elf at the moment, but I am sure before the fortnight ends, her transformation will be complete, and she will truly be a full-fledged fae, like us." Shoko nodded.

You stared at Satoru... The once wilting forest which you woke up to slowly regained life.

For a man so stoic, he is an open book... You can't help but chuckle as the smaller faes slowly creep out of their homes and rejoice at the blossoming life enveloping the woods again. Shoko and Suguru have left, leaving you and your mate some privacy in the garden.

"I..." Satoru cannot confess enough what he had done out of rage and sorrow when he thought you were gone.

"I know..." You shake your head telling him to speak no more as you took him in your arms... This time, you could feel him ever closer, hear his thoughts louder, and see him clearer. Everything he has done and he has said, you knew and felt in each passing second... But no words were uttered, as you can feel the remorse coursing in his being. What he needs the most is your embrace...

Nature can renew itself as long as it is given care and time...

The trees are once again full of luscious foliage, the grass is back to its evergreen hue, and the different faes have returned to their homes and gone through their duties as usual. Satoru is somehow a bit busier with the court matters, while you, the Empress, needed a little more recuperation before you come back to your court duties.

"Your Majesty... We always knew you smelled sweet even before you became like us."

The smaller sprites sat on your finger as they flapped around you, more drawn than ever. It seems that your new form has made you more captivating to their instincts, just like how they are drawn to the presence of their Emperor.

"Really? Though, I know you just want more sugary treats." You played with their cheeks until they perked up and bowed to someone. "See you tomorrow, Your Majesty!"

You didn't have to guess who made the little sprites flee in haste.

You turned around, and sure enough, you were swept off your feet as a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. His sweet sandalwood scent filled your senses, soothing your racing heart.

"I missed you, My Flower... What did my mate get for me?" Satoru looked at the basket you're holding, filled with several flowers from the garden he built for you.

"It's nothing much... It's too loose to be called a crown." You showed him the crown you clumsily made with some lilacs. But Satoru guided your hand to put it on his head, indulging you with anything. You have now fully turned into an elf. Bright silver hair, lucid eyes, and the sweet scent of jasmine and orchid around you with the purple robes that only the Imperial Rulers can wear. Anyone who sees you will immediately recognize you as an Imperial Fae and their Empress.

"I would take anything you offer me, Y/n." Satoru softly kissed her forehead... his lips slowly kissed his way down your nose until he found your lips. "Can I ask for a kiss?"

"What if I say my kisses are not offered?" You raised a brow.

Satoru merely shrugged it off with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure you can make exceptions for your husband, no?" Satoru chuckled. "Can I have my kiss now?"

Your sweet smile and soft giggle drowned in as he captured your lips for a gentle but passionate kiss.

If the lotus has tears, he will shed it only and only for you...

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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comfortless · 5 months

Text

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”

#könig #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #cod fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction

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hsficrecommendation · 5 months

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Hello everyone! This is masterlist #4, #5 and #6 (Cont. Of June, then Sept, and Oct 2023!) for all the fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog all the writings below!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing for yourselves <3

••• JUNE (Part 2!) •••

Stablehand!Harry x Princess!Y/n | Part 2 | Part 3 | Harry loathes Y/N and she's just a little tease. - @angelsanddaisies

Poetry In Your Mailbox | Part 2 | Part 3 | Y/N and the rest of her nosy neighborhood friends ogle at the man who just moved in next door — a man of mystery, silence, and someone who seemingly doesn’t want anything to do with his neighbors… until Y/N begins to receive anonymous mail. - @episkystyles

Changes | ♡♡ Harry returns home. Based on- Changes by Cam. - @hes-writer

Prince!Harry x Princess!Y/n | Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and Harry is insufferable. - @novelistrry

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes | Every Rose has its Thorns | Petals and Prompts | Harry’s a prince looking for his princess… but perhaps she isn’t inside the ball. Includes: flowers and gossip and promises and true love’s kiss. - @jarofstyles

Out by the Docks | Underneath the Stars | ♡ A story of clandestine meetings, conspiracies, and stolen glances by the sea. (Princess!Y/n x Spy!Harry) - @fishnets-fingers

Dentist The Bad Boi | ♡ Harry’s a med-student and Y/N’s an art student, being neighbours with Y/N was already a living hell for Harry but when she fusses over his cat getting her cat pregnant – he mighty looses it. - @muffindaddystyles

The Empowering Hearts | ♡♡ In which you're a lonely model until you meet a baker. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

••• SEPTEMBER •••

Say It | in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

The Joker and The Queen | In which Harry is a florist, has a crush on the baker next door and dreads his Birthday. - @harrysonlylover

Breaking the Ice | It's no secret that as a figure skater, you're fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty... and your ex's status as a player isn't helping much either. - @purplekiwis

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before - @novelistrry

••• OCTOBER •••

Stop Thinking so Much | In which Harry teaches english and some poetry is hard to pick apart. - @meetevieinthehallway

Dog Days are Over | ♡ In which Y/n and Harry walk their dogs in the same park. Though, over the course of time, buying each other coffee turns into something more. - @nationalharryleague

The Witching Hour | ♡ Despite Harry being the witch in this situation, maybe his crush on gemma's new friend was going to be the most bewitching thing he ever encountered. - @moonchildstyles

Nest | Harry is y/n's best friend. He also happens to be an alpha. Spending a week at his place has her brain doing weird things. - @moonchildstyles

Pebbles and The Scarecrow | ♡ In which Harry doesn’t like Halloween until a certain pair of trick or treaters knock on his door. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Banana Pancakes | Nanny!Harry falls in love with his little girl, and the mother of his little girl. - @ill-be-your-honey-bri

Golden | In which Y/n's life is dark but the Harry, The Fae King, sees she's golden. - @angelisverba

Better man - Harry and Y/n are famous and dating. Now, Harry is attending a party just 'cause he knows that Y/n would surely be there, and Y/n seems to be escaping her date so hard that she meets Harry outside the bathrooms. - @bopbopstyles

Masterlist for more recs! My Writing account - @0oolookitsme

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff

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sqvishii · 23 days

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Ok Everyone talking about Silver cheat the reader or the reader cheat Silver. But I want to up the ante of pain and angst:

Imagine a reader (for this scenario fem Reader) being Silver's wife. That they both live in the kingdom of thorns having a happy and comfortable life. Although the reader could not return to his world, she was at least able to build a life in TWST with his current husband

So Silver, being one of the main guards of Mallues and the son of General Lilia. In some way or another he is someone who has a certain degree of power in the kingdom due to his position and lineage. So it certainly wouldn't be unusual for someone ill-intentioned to want to get something from Silver (either by stealing or getting forbidden information from the Draconia family or even Lilia) The point is that said person had Silver in his sights as he was technically "the least powerful" (Mallues being the king, Sebek being half-fae and Lilia being a former war general). Whether for any reason they manage to discover the traitor (Silver's work)

But said person manages to escape and is now searching for the Kingdom. The ill-intentioned person, wanting to take revenge on Silver, decides to take away what he loves most. So upon hearing rumors that Silver has a wife who some claim has no magic. The traitor finds the house and murders the reader.

Silver along with other guards are patrolling and looking for the traitor. But he has the feeling that something bad is happening so he tries to call the reader and try to inform her about the situation. But no one answers...even though he has dialed almost 25 times, his wife does not answer his calls. Panic-stricken Silver runs towards his home. Only to find his house damaged and his wife dead on the floor.... Silver gives a cry of pain that echoed throughout the forest. Silver who didn't rest until the damn thing was found

When the traitor is captured by orders of the king and his right hand is executed to death. The now widower who discovered that when his wife was murdered she was newly pregnant ...Now she is buried in the back of Silver's childhood home. Now the happy little home is only inhabited by a lonely knight who never remarried or had a family. Sometimes the home is visited by three faes who take care of their lonely human. 💔

Silver, who at the end of his days never took off his wedding ring and was buried next to his deceased wife's grave. Centuries later the small abandoned house but curiously the graves are still cared for and always have small flowers around them.

STOP THIS ANGST

will the both of you still meet in the next life?

silver wished, his last days were nearing as he stood above your grave, a fresh batch of your favorite flowers in his hands.

silver vanrouge and you. such a beautiful relationship bloomed between the both of you in which silver just couldn't help but fill his journal whenever he spent his days with you.

you made him so happy. so in love like a lovesick puppy who awaited your every order.

he remembered when the shyly held your hand during the first month the both of you were dating in night raven, lilia always chuckled at the two of you and always teased him about it.

now, you're gone.

and heavens did it hurt.

it hurt. extremely; the worst part? you were pregnant with his children.

he knew you were going to surprise him with the news once he got back home, that lopsided grin on your face as you excitedly jump into his arms, he was always there to catch you.

how badly he wished he went home when that gut feeling hit him.

instead of the sight of you with that giddy smile, your radiance and basically just you in general,

he saw you, laying on the ground as the bloody pool underneath you had spread around.

writting the last page of his journal with his signature, he buried it near your grave, how badly he wanted you to read it, how badly he wanted to see that smile on your face and the blush that burned on your cheeks once you saw the years he took to finish that journal for you.

but the least he could do at the end of his life was to have himself buried near you.

years have passed and the house was already withered. despite that, the poeple who walked by could only be left confused at the sight of the flowers growing in between the two graves.

a new era set in stone, silver had heard of a book about a man who spent his life writing his journal dedicated entirely to a single woman, he heard the story was pretty heartbreaking, really.

the plot was basically the man, being in college and finding the one he loved, a woman who was magicless, years passed and he becomes one of the main guards of a fae kingdom, though a traitor was among them.

that said traitor killed the woman without the man knowing, and the plot continues. though, silver had read only a quarter of the book.. he felt like he already knew what happened, as if he was the said man in the book, ironic.

having to be dragged along with his father and brothers to a museum, he could only find himself staring at a portrait, a man whos features looked exactly like his.

'silver vanrouge.'

..huh. weird. same name, too. apparantly, this was the man in the said book he read a few days ago.

.. he could only wonder who was the woman he fell in love with.

searching around the museum without lilia knowing, he eventually found the portrait that was actually just next to the mans. whoops, he didn't notice.

there was a lot of people looking, in awe of the beauty of the painting. he was too, the woman was breathtaking, no wonder the man had fallen in love with her.

going to the front, he saw a girl who looked exactly like her.

"..-ver? silver?"

".. [name]?"

lilia and malleus could only fist bump in the background, finally reuniting the long lost lovers once more.

#!! squish writes #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver twisted wonderland #silver twst #silver x reader twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #silver vanrouge twst #silver vanrouge twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge x reader

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dykeminecraft · 9 months

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gnawing on my gender like it's a fucking bone. can something come of it now please

alas there are parts i'm scared of poking at, not because the whole lesbian thing would change but because. i want certain things but i'm not sure i can Have them in that way

idk. i just keep going back to being encouraged to cut my hair very short whenever i express wanting to be more masculine. thanks for the encouragement i guess, but that's not. that's not the part i want to change. there's other parts i do want to change (i want a deeper voice, in a perfect world bottom surgery wouldn't be a pipe dream) but my hair isn't one of them but it is admittedly probably the easiest. so for now i'll just hang out, i guess

#thorn post #this sounds kinda sad. it's not really meant to #i'm just a little. lonely perhaps. that's not the right term i have lots of friends on discord. but something like it

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roseapov · 7 months

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TWST Self Aware AU

The difference between 'The Player' and 'The Overseer' based on my observations and some Headcannons

Warning: Mentions of obsession, slaying people, stalking, cult themes and delusional worshippers

[TWST Self Aware AU] - [Masterlist]

The Player:

Everyone knows that Twisted Wonderland is just a game and they're the characters in it. They as a self aware AU communicate with you through Yuu, as it is their only form of communication with you (unlike the Overseer). They see you as their 'safe space' and can be/are possessive of you, cause of the comfort that you bring to them (some more than the others). They know you're somewhere out there playing and having your own life, so they really appreciate it when you do decide to play.

You don't have worshippers, just a bunch of students obsessively starved for your affection and attention - trying to harbor it all to themselves (Poor boys, shower them with affection - or not, Choose the safest option).

The Housewardens would be the most clingiest of them all. They have some real problems to overblot in the first place (-Kalim, +Jamil), but your presence seems to calm all their worries, so stay with them a little longer. Just. A. Little. Longer.

They're also not above stalking - when you play there's always someone following Yuu around, and when you're offline those with more magic than the others have the chance to infiltrate through your phone and watch your daily life through the camera as well as hear your voice through the microphone.

Since you communicate through Yuu, there are 2 options I see happening when you're offline:

Yuu is living their normal life without your influence as an npc, where they normally talk to everyone behind the scenes

When you log out, Yuu just disappears, which I think is pretty reasonable. Everyone then knows that you're offline and the only thing they can do is wait for you to log in again.

And of course, our very lonely Future Fae King tries to bring you into their world with his powerful magic, so he won't have to be alone anymore💕 The others also approve of this action, so See you soon!

The Overseer:

The characters there are a bunch of lunatic worshippers that see you as a God/Creator, and The Overseer. You're known there internally and Nations are worshipping you (unlike The Player who is only known by the characters they met). Their level of worship is different in each county, when in some (Briar Valley) you're the highest being to ever exist, while in the others you're seen as a respectable person who watches over them, but not as the deity to offer-everything-you-can to (Sunset Savanna, since they already have a Royal Family that rules for centuries - the irony since Briar Valley also have long ruling Royal Family).

You're a perfect being that soothes them, they're totally obsessed and very possessive of your attention. They have no problems with slaying everyone who's not respecting you enough *ekhem* Briar Valley/Diasomnia. They are elated when they feel your gaze linger on them a little longer than on the others.

They can feel your gaze on them, feel your touches but your silhouette is blurred/transparent for them (thanks to the screen, cause as we all know, the screen can't compare to the real experience), so they don't know your exact look (even tho they're dying to know *ekhem* Pomefiore, cause of their Fairest Queen opinion on you).

The Great Seven also met you (thanks to the Fairy of thorns), their God and Creator. They have made various opinions on your person (all positive, cause don't forget - they're all obsessed delulus), like for example: The Fairest Queen opinion on you is that 'You're the Fairest one of them all', all said while kneeling before your beauty.

Of course our current generation is also dying to meet their creator in all of their glory, so our most powerful and most delusional Diasomnia boys (mostly Malleus and Lilia) are trying to find a way to bring you into their world to worship you endlessly like you rightfully deserve.

You're not really communicating with them through Yuu, as they can see you through the screen of your phone (although blurry). They are always talking to you, always looking at you. All those lines, all for you, towards you, so answer them, look at them or things may get really ugly.

Some of my rambling now:

I know many days ago I posted that my first fic will appear in a few days, but it never did (sorry🙏). My first fic project was very ambitious and in the meantime I caugt a cold which numbed me totally, but it did gave me many ideas for fics in the future🤭. So instead of the fic planned to be my first one, this one will serve the purpose of being the first fic - pretty analysational and rational (I hope).

I'm still working on the fic that was supposed to be the first one, yet i have too little information on the topic to write it (it's also gonna be analysis like), so I'm going to take my sweet time with writing it and hopefully after the october (cause of the october writing challenge), succesfully release it.

I hope this fic came out good and y'all are satisfied with it, I am also open to any criticizm towards my works, so please feel free to tell me where i can improve!

I also apologize for all the mistakes that I could possibly have done here👀

Thank you all again and see you soon!💕

~roseapov

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rookthorne · 7 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟

Little Red Riding Hood never stood a chance against the Big Bad Wolf, not when the wolf was a honed predator with skills he’d perfected over the centuries.

A little game of chase would bring out the beast in your Incubus, and you just had to hope he’d kept some semblance of his charming self.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☽☾ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☽☾ 3.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☽☾ The Filthiest Filth. ჻჻჻ SMUT: Monsterfucking, unprotected, possesive, rough piv, primal, breath play, multiple orgasms, use of appendages, tail fucking, double penetration in same hole, so much dirty talk (that I need to go to church) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Daddy, chase, praise, degredation, dacryphilia, slight blood

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☽☾ I have nothing to say in my defence, except that I am so sorry for the filthiest thing I have ever written.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ☽☾ Where Is Your God Now by Rok Nardin ☽☾ Supermassive Black Hole by Muse ☽☾ Carrion Flowers by Chelsea Wolfe ☽☾ Easy by Sun Lux, Lorde

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ☽☾ @smutconnoisseur — chaos kittens, I almost killed SC off, if that gives you any implication of just how much this fic is.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☽☾ @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Are you sure about this?”

Bucky looked at you, eyes narrowed and a slight tilt to his head. There was a glint of something you couldn’t place in his eyes that had become black depths, reflecting only the light of the moon. “Honey,” he purred, and his tongue, long and slick, ran over his lips and then his fangs. “All you have to do is run.”

“But what if I get lost?” The words weren’t quite enough to cover the entirety of your hesitance, if you were honest, but it was what you had. “It’s dark, and all I have is this cape,” you said, holding out the thick, soft material of your cape – coloured crimson with golden hems.

“You won’t get lost, sweetheart,” Bucky said simply. His wings that had been furled against his back shuddered and stretched out, the tips brushing the ground as he shivered through the feeling. You could see his tail wrap around his calf and then sway and twitch.

“But-”

“We’re jus’ playin’ a little game of Red Ridin’ Hood–aren’t we? You’re the poor little girl, lost in the woods and runnin’ from the big,” Bucky paused, stepping closer, “bad,” another pause, and you sensed the tension that the words carried – it made your skin prickle with electricity. He kissed you full on the mouth, forcing his tongue past your lips to run coaxingly along your own, when finally, he pulled back. “Wolf.”

He grinned and his fangs shone in the light of the moon, and he tilted his head again. “Can’t be that dumb for me yet, Angel, c’mon.” He stepped back and you bit down the quiet whine in your throat. “Go on. Daddy wants to toy with his prey.”

“But-” You tried again, reaching for him.

A shadow replaced the moon, a dark film of red and black. It was Bucky’s wings – twitching in the eagerness to take flight. “I said run.”

The dust cloud from the flap of Bucky’s wings made your cloak ripple around your body, exposing the thin dress you wore beneath the cover of red. With your final warning uttered, you took off to the tree line, darting between the pines and holding your dress up off the ground – branches and thickets of thorns cut and tore at your shins and hands, but you pushed on.

Darkness covered the entirety of the forest – shadows danced on your path. They gave the illusion of a pursuer, but you knew for sure the only creature hunting you was airborne, more than likely watching you from a perch in the trees.

Paths wove and twisted between the trees, and you trusted your instincts. Well before you had agreed to play this game, Bucky had assured you that you would be alone with no chance of a lone predator or bystander to encounter, and that had been the truth – there was not a single sign of life in this forest aside from the pounding of your heart in your ears and of your feet over the forest floor.

A sense of foreboding settled over you then – since you were truly alone, with an Incubus after you, what would stop something else, another demon perhaps, deciding to join the game you were playing? Was that even a possibility?

You grimaced and ran off in another direction, sticking to the trails as your cloak whipped behind you. There was a fork amongst a small clearing just ahead, and you slowed to walk, then a standstill; just to catch your breath.

To the right was the way to the darker side of the forest where the canopy was so thick with branches no light pierced through. To the left lay the way to the streams and rivulets that trickled through the forest to the lake on the opposite side.

Moonlight flooded the clearing as you panicked and fumbled with your decision.

The heavy beat of wings in the distance made you flinch and cower, you had stood still too long. “Dammit,” you muttered, observing your surroundings for a place to hide. A tree trunk, wide and covered in creeping moss, stood rooted to your right, and those wing beats were nearing faster than you could outrun. “Shit, shit–here.”

Your feet slipped over roots and vines in your scramble, and it was not a moment too late. A loud thump sounded a few feet from where you had been standing, and you peered around the trunk of the tree.

Bucky was standing there, head tilted up to watch the skies. His horns reflected the moonlight, but it was nothing compared to the voids of his eyes – inky blackness swallowed all light that would bounce off what used to be his icy irises, and he was breathing heavily, as though scenting the air.

“Oh, Angel! I know you’re here, sugar!” he boomed, and his voice – it had transformed into something guttural, primal with the rasp and tone. It called to your baser instincts and you struggled to not let a whimper fall from your lips, instead, your body twisted the arousal and pooled it in your cunt, making it throb.

Your breath left you in a sharp exhale as Bucky turned so his back was now facing you. The skin around his wings was mottled red and blood trickled down from the weeping wounds, and as you watched, the muscles and sinewed skin of the wings themselves twitched and jumped. Black tendrils of something curved down his spine and followed the contours of his back and waist, before they stopped at the very top of his tail – the tip of which swished with eagerness, a playful action that was offset by the entirety of his body language.

It was a haunting sight. Never before had you seen Bucky in his full form. He looked twice as large, as though the very transformation of uncloaking his monstrous form had made him grow a few feet both in height and brawn.

Oh, God, you thought, clenching your thighs.

“Where is your God now, Angel?” he asked, deceptively calm. “Don’t think I can’t sense His name being invoked at the sight of me, which means…” The moonlight shadowed his form as he turned again, this time, he was facing you – but it seemed he hadn’t caught you staring. “That means, honey, that you are so fuckin’ close, and you’ll be screamin’ to the Heavens, soon enough.”

You shuddered and gulped, and then, those deep, black eyes were on you. Bucky had shifted slightly to the side in your daze, and he was staring straight at you. His wings raised up slightly as he grinned, all teeth and tongue, and his tail thrashed side to side, as if it could no longer restrain itself.

“Oh, no,” you breathed, blinking once, twice, and then you turned to run. The sight of Bucky had kickstarted the instinctual fear that had laid dormant. “No!”

Branches whipped against your cheeks and arms this time as you took off, deeper into the forest without a care for where you were running, only that you put as much distance between the two of you.

A loud howl tore through the night and you came to a halt, completely against your will. You panted and tried to force your legs to move, but nothing worked as it should – you were rooted to the forest floor just as the trees around you.

Footsteps crunched over the leaves and twigs behind you, followed by the sound of something being dragged along. “Well, well, well,” a deep voice drawled. You couldn’t turn to face the source – instinctually, you knew it was Bucky, in whatever form he was in. “Who knew the sweet, little Angel could run so damn fast, huh?”

The clawed edge of a wing was the first thing you saw in your peripheral vision, then a horn, then Bucky’s face. He looked smug, a wide smirk pulled at the corner of his lips and his eyes glinted with mischief. You were unable to open your mouth, so you just stared at him, eyes wide as he neared.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he cooed, and his hand cupped the side of your face while the other traced lines over your neck with a sharp claw. “What’d you think of that new trick? Got you pretty good.”

A finger snap sounded, and you could move. You gasped for air and slumped where you stood. “What the hell!”

Bucky grinned. “Don’t sound so shocked, sugar,” he purred, tilting his head. “Daddy would do anythin’ to make sure his Angel does as she’s told, right?”

It was either an irrationally foolish surge of bravery, or pure spite that fuelled your next move, and as you looked back in hindsight, it would be the moment that changed the game.

You rose to your full height and defiantly set your jaw, looking at Bucky through narrowed eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck your game of cat and mouse.” And you bolted off, panting from the adrenaline.

There was a peel of harsh laughter behind you, but you didn’t slow down, not even when you heard heavy footsteps trailing after you. Your feet pounded over the floor as you ran as fast as you could manage, and before long, you were in another clearing. It was much like the last one, only the canopies of the trees were sparser and allowed moonlight to wash over the dewy grass.

“You can’t run for long, Angel!” Bucky called behind you, and to your horror, you realised he was far too close for comfort. “Daddy’ll get what he’s owed–shut that pretty mouth so you can’t insult ‘im no more.”

For the first time that night, terror flooded you. Bucky would catch you, and while you had previously discussed what he could and could not do, it didn’t stop the instinctual fear of being prey to an angry demon – one that could overpower you with brute strength and magic. “Fuck,” you cursed, heaving for breath. “No, no, you wo-”

The air was slammed from your lungs as a much larger body collided with yours, and you grunted with the pain of being pressed against someone’s chest with such force. Your back was slammed up against the trunk of a tree, and you blinked several times as needles and twigs fell from above, landing at your feet that dangled off the ground.

Your eyes finally focused on the face in front of you, and you gasped sharply. Bucky was smirking, and his eyes held an aura of danger that made your stomach flip in fear and arousal. “Got you, little bunny. Did you really think you could run from me?”

“No,” you squeaked. “No, no–I didn’t, daddy-”

His hand moved to cup your throat, squeezing the sides enough to make you lightheaded. “You have a real fuckin’ funny way of showin’ it, honey. What was all that?”

The pressure of his hand around your throat sent the very last of the thoughts in your mind southwards, leaving you struggling to even form a sentence. “I-”

Bucky clicked his tongue and sneered. “I think this costume needs to go–best believe you’re keepin’ that cape on, though.” His claws flashed in the light and then the thin fabric that kept you modesty vanished with a swipe of his hand. “Tha’s better, baby, isn’t it?” He inhaled sharply, letting his nostrils flare, before he looked down at your thighs. “Seems runnin’ has made my Angel all hot an’ bothered.”

You whined and gripped his wrist with one hand, while the other scrambled over the bark of the tree. “Daddy- Please, please, I need you.”

“How cute, my sweet lil’ Angel beggin’ for her daddy to fuck her,” he purred, and his mouth trailled up and down your throat, licking and biting hard enough to draw blood. “Now, tha’s somethin’ I can oblige. Force you to take my cock while you squirm and cry–fuck, I wanna see you cry for me, honey.”

Unable to speak, you just nodded vehemently, staring into Bucky’s face. The ache in your cunt throbbed and pulsed, the pain of it unbearable and it left you feeling open and wanting. “Please–I need you, daddy, just-” You hiccuped and swallowed at the feral expression that pulled Bucky’s face taut. “Just fuck me, make me yours.”

“Oh, baby.” Something in his tone made your eyes become unfocused, and you moaned as his face came so close to yours that you could feel his breath over your lips. “I’ll do so much more than that. I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you cry for nothin’ but for who you belong to–and even then,” he whispered, and your hooded eyes stared into the dark abyss that were his eyes. “Daddy won’t stop. You’re mine to fuck, mine to use, and you’re fuckin’ mine to keep.”

“Yes,” you moaned loudly, tipping your head back. “Give it to me, daddy.” The grin that Bucky flashed you with made some semblance of thought swirl in your mind, and you cried out, “Wait! Wait, I-”

Bucky froze, but his hands remained where they were, securing you against the tree. “What is it?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong, honey?”

You shook your head, and stared at his mouth. “Oh, what sharp teeth you have.” The words came out as a breathy whisper, carrying an intention that made Bucky’s expression darken even further.

“Oh, all the better for markin’ you up, sugar,” he growled, nipping at your bottom lip. "Gonna use ‘em to claim you as mine–force the lower demons from the rings a’hell to bow before my queen."

It was your turn to grin, and you did so dazedly as another throb went through your whole core. “Oh, and what a beautiful tail, mister wolf,” you teased, watching through half lidded eyes as it moved and curled in the air.

“All the fuckin’ better for keepin’ your pussy on display, baby,” he purred, moving the appendage until the very tip of it brushed your inner thigh. “These gorgeous thighs jus’ wanna keep my pretty girl hidden, ain’t that right? Need somethin’ to keep them open.”

You shuddered and moaned as Bucky pressed forward, hunching in on himself to suck at your pulse point. His knee came to rest against your heat and you ground down against the tight muscles of his thigh until you whimpered. “Wait, wait, mister wolf,” you breathed, and Bucky pulled back to look into your face.

“Yeah?”

“What a gorgeous cock you have,” you whispered.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled through Bucky’s chest, and you felt him force his cock into your cunt to the hilt with a single thrust. You cried out as he grit through his teeth, “All the fuckin’ better for fillin’ this perfect pussy with, Angel. Hold on while daddy takes what he’s owed, baby.”

The rhythm Bucky set was punishing beyond belief. Every stroke of his cock over your walls made you whine and moan for more, desperate for the first climax that was cresting so fast you could barely warn him.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me,” Bucky growled into your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I only jus’ fuckin’ started and you’re gonna cum for me? Are you that fuckin’ desperate for daddy?”

“Yes! Yes–need t’a cum daddy,” you begged, clawing his shoulders and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “Please!”

“Good fuckin’ girl–tha’s my girl, go on,” he grunted, “give it to daddy. Let go–’m not done with this tight cunt yet, baby.”

Your first climax hit you with the force of a devastating earthquake – it tore through your core with such ferocity and heat you could have sworn you were burning from the inside out as your thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s hips. The deep, harsh thrusts he fucked you with drew out the pleasure until you were keening.

“Tha’s it, honey, tha’s it. Good girl. Good girl, let it out–need to make room for daddy, don’t you?” Bucky coaxed, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wan’ you to cum again, need you so bad.”

“I ca- Oh! Bu- Daddy!” You cried, throwing your head back. In your haze from your first orgasm, Bucky had moved his tail from your inner thigh up to your clit, where it thrummed so fast over the bundle nerves that it blurred. “Fuck! Fuck, feels s’good, daddy!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Bucky cooed, rocking his hips faster. “But you’re not cryin’, and you for sure as shit still able to speak.”

You whined and choked on air as his cock started to fill you again, it felt as though it had gotten bigger while inside you and the barbs were threatening to expand and latch on – Bucky was close, for all his talk, he couldn’t resist. “Daddy, daddy–yes, need more,” you begged, and he groaned.

“You want more, honey?” Bucky asked suddenly, and his wings shuddered as they expanded out again. The clawed tips dug into the earth and the bones that lined the top of the sinew stiffened just as Bucky snarled, “Then fuckin’ take it.”

His thrusts, while powerful before, breached the line of what was possible as his wings tensed and he fucked up into your cunt with such force it pushed you up the tree, tearing your cloak on the ragged bark. “Yes! Oh my- Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop-”

“I won’t, don’t you worry,” Bucky panted, and he made his tail push into your cunt as he dragged himself out. “You’re gonna be fuckin’ gaping when ‘m done with you, Angel–you feel so fuckin’ good on my cock, gonna be even better with my tail.”

The foreign pressure of his tail snaking itself in with his cock made you cry out and sob, but it moved in a hooked gesture and started to thrum against that spot, and in time with the thrusts of his hips, you were sure you were going to pass out in his arms. “I’m gonna cum! Daddy–Daddy! Please!”

Bucky growled as his hand slammed against the tree, and his claws scraped roughly against the bark. “Cum for daddy, baby–give it to me, now,” he groaned, and just as your orgasm crested, Bucky shouted into your neck. “Fuck! Oh, Angel–’m close.”

Your mind had melted from your ears as your climax took your breath away, and with a shaky breath, you felt tears run down your cheeks as you stared into Bucky’s eyes. “Daddy,” you rasped, cupping his jaw tenderly in your hand. “Cum for me–fill me, make me yours.”

The way Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat made you smile softly, and you watched, entranced, as his climax took its roots. His eyes, black as ebony, flashed in the light from the moon and his lips upturned into a snarl. Pleasure was sparking through your core at his continued thrusts that grew harsh and bruising, but you kept your eyes on his face as a ragged gasp choked him.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, yes–yes, you feel s’good, baby,” he praised, making you moan and preen. “Gonna fill this perfect pussy up–make her leak me so everyone knows you’re mine. You are mine.”

“Yours,” you breathed, and you gasped sharply at the feeling of the barbs swelling, latching into place and forcing Bucky to thrust hard into your cunt to keep himself there. “Give it to me, daddy, wan’ it so bad.”

Bucky whined and forced himself forward, pushing his barbed dick into the hilt when a warmth bloomed in your cunt. “Fuck! Fuck, baby, ‘m cumming, please-” Bucky rasped against your lips. To tease and prolong his release, you squeezed him rhythmically with your walls. His breath hitched and the hand that had slammed against the trunk of the tree seized.

A loud crunching sound came from beside your head, and you glanced over to see Bucky’s fist tearing the bark from the wood with his grip.

Moans and praises fell from his lips like sweetened honey, and you kissed him as his climax tapered off. “That’s it, daddy, good boy.”

“Fuck,” he murmured. You couldn’t help but giggle at his blank expression.

“I think you fucked yourself dumb, Buck,” you said quietly, and he narrowed his eyes at you, displeased with the insinuation.

“Who said I was done yet, huh?” His hands grabbed your thighs and he hefted you close to his chest. You squealed and gripped hard onto his shoulders. “Still have’ta take you home–fuck you on every surface. I did say you won’t be able to fuckin’ speak when I was done with you.”

you still with me? good — good girl.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #rookthorne's works

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