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dottores · 11 months

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: i forgot it was friday SOBS i got distracted reading a new book so we're a little late but anyway <.< its time also i’m gonna answer asks tomorrow i promise 😭

THE DOCTOR

You sighed softly, smoothing out the cloth draped against you as you took a look in the mirror again. There was nothing left to fix--your hair was done, the jewel of your necklace laid neatly in the middle of your chest and your gown was fitted perfectly. You thought you should be alarmed, you didn’t know how the masked person had all of your measurements. You assumed that they had been the one to drop off the gown at the inn you were staying at in Snezhnaya City so you could be properly dressed for the event at Zapolyarny Palace.

You rose to your feet, gnawing at your bottom lip as you looked into the mirror one last time. They had given you a purple gown to wear--and not just any purple, the color of your family, the exact shade. You didn’t like it. You wondered if it was on purpose or just a coincidence but you figured that nothing about this person was a coincidence. They knew everything about you from who you were to the reason you came to Snezhnaya, a secret that you thought had been kept safely between you and your grandfather.

Your eyes turned to the window, catching a rather fancy looking carriage making its way down the stone road in the direction of the inn you were staying at. You figured that was going to be him--whoever the aristocrat was that the masked person had said would be bringing you to the event.

How?

The events were invite only, strictly moderated, how this person had managed to get you in was a mystery. You didn’t know what to expect--you didn’t know how many people would be there nor did you know if all of the Harbingers would be attending. You assumed that they would so you could prepare for the worst case scenario but you hoped that they didn’t.

You didn’t know much about the Fatui Harbingers, just what your grandfather had learned from one of the few networks of intel he had access to that weaved through Snezhnaya. There were eleven of them, but only ten were active--ranked by strength, they struck fear and awe in the hearts of their subordinates. There were rumors that some of the higher ranked ones could rival even the Archons in power. Your grandfather warned you of a few before you left for the north: the Doctor, the Balladeer, the Fair Lady and the Friar, all brutal and dangerous and unforgiving, should they learn of your plans in the north, you would quickly find yourself a fallen pawn in whatever game of chess they were playing against the rest of Teyvat.

You thought your best bet might lay with the Regrator. Evidently, he was the most recently promoted Harbinger of the active ten and focused more on the economy and politics than anything else… or so was assumed, at least. Snezhnaya had prospered since his promotion--the creation of the Northland Bank and its expansion across Teyvat had catapulted Snezhnaya to match the wealth of Liyue, they were even trying to set one up in Fontaine but were failing miserably. You were sure he was just as cruel and vicious as the rest of them but you thought that at least you wouldn’t be dealing with unfamiliar topics.

How you were going to ensure that you were placed with him… or even placed at all instead of being killed on sight, you didn’t know. You figured that was something important to know before you stepped foot in Zapolyarny Palace but you excused the lack of preparation by telling yourself there was no way for you to prepare for something when you didn’t know what to expect. You would figure out the plan as soon as you got there and knew who was there, what the event was for, and what you could do to ensure your survival and success.

Your head hurt but the carriage had come to a stop at the steps of the inn you were staying at and you knew you had to get moving. You let out another heavy breath as you took one last look in the mirror before making your way out of your room and down the steps of the inn.

You gave a soft smile to the elderly man working the front desk as you made your way through the wide lobby, hesitating only for a second when you saw a tall figure ducking out from inside of the carriage. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the doors open, wincing at brisk air stinging your face as soon as you stepped outside.

A brown head of hair whipped around at the sound of the doors shutting behind you, an awkward smile pulled at the lips of your date for the night, warm brown eyes focusing on you, “Hello,” he said, his voice was a bit hesitant and nervous, holding his hand out toward you. “I’m Artem.”

You placed your hand in his, watching as he bent his head down to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles, “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Artem interrupted, then flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, they… already told me who you were.”

They, you repeated silently as a particularly harsh wind swept through the city, the streets eerily silent.

“They…” you murmured to yourself but Artem suddenly looked nervous, brown eyes flitting around before he motioned for you to join him in the carriage. You inhaled the bitterly cold air as you stepped forward, taking his hand as he helped you up into the carriage before following you in, shutting the dark door behind the two of you.

“You shouldn’t talk about stuff out in the open,” Artem said quietly. “There are always people listening.”

Great, you thought to yourself, gaze twisting around outside. The streets were barren but even you knew there was something off about this city that you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, you caught sight of a figure standing in the window of one of the apartments across the street. You couldn’t make out their features against the backlight but you knew their eyes were directed toward the carriage.

You’d been in the city for two days now and it felt eerily similar to the streets of Fontaine. You didn’t often leave the palace of the Hydro Archon, everything you needed was within it: food, water, libraries, the gardens, but every once in a while, you would escape to go watch a show at one of the theaters. The Hydro Archon liked to keep the nobles of the nation ignorant to the perils of the rest of the civilians and it worked when you were in the ivory tower of the palace but when you were down in the streets, it was impossible to miss how the civilians were on edge, eyes constantly darting around in an anxious panic. There were eyes everywhere--in every window, in every alley, in every corner and crevice and no matter how aware you were of them, there was no hiding from them.

Snezhnaya City was just like that.

Oppressive. Tense. Heavy. Cold beyond just the air around you. But unlike Fontaine, Snezhnaya was not your home. Your name and title held no weight in this city and the threat of the Fatui and what they could do to you weighed on you like the sky had fallen.

“What is this event?” you finally asked, fingers playing with the fabric of your dress as you watched Artem from the corner of your eye.

“They’re filling the last spot,” Artem responded, staring ahead. He didn’t look excited or pleased and you couldn’t help but wonder what the political climate was like here, the relationship between the Snezhnayan aristocrats and the Cryo Archon and her followers--maybe it was something you could use to your advantage… or maybe it would be something that would just damn you even further, showing up with one of them. “For the Harbingers, they’re promoting someone to fill the Eleventh seat.”

Oh, you realized what exactly he meant by filling the last spot, an intense dread sweeping through you because that meant that yes, all of the other Harbingers would likely be there. Instead of dwelling on the subject, you said, “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

Artem turned his head to look at you, evaluating you carefully before shaking his head, “What’s there to be happy about?” he asked dryly. “The stronger they get, the weaker my family gets.”

They’re not united, you realized, and they’re not afraid to admit it.

That was interesting. Artem’s face didn’t twist in regret after he said that nor did he look ashamed, if anything he looked resentful… but then doubt began to stir. If the Fatui knew about the dissent, why would they invite them to their elite events?

“They let you guys into their events knowing… that?” you asked, side-eyeing Artem, wondering if you had dug yourself a bigger hole by showing up with him.

“They don’t know all of it,” Artem said, “and even if they did, it’s more of an intimidation tactic than anything else. They bring us there to show us their strength, scare us into submission. That’s all it’s about.”

“All of it as in?” you pushed, figuring that if he was going to be so open with information, that you might as well get as much as you can so you knew exactly what you were walking into.

Artem gave you a look as if you should know what he meant. “They think that the Triglav was the only organization we had to fall back on--the Regrator tore it apart a few years ago.”

Why are you telling me all of this? You wanted to ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Brown eyes met yours at the silent question, he knew what you were asking.

“They told me who you were,” he said again, except this time, you felt a bit more cold, realizing he knew more than just your name. “I figure they want you to fumble around in the Snezhnayan courts for their amusement but it’ll get you killed--I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” you questioned. You didn’t know if you could trust him or believe his words and you felt so damn alone and lost that a part of you wanted to jump out of the carriage and flee back to Fontaine--you didn’t know what you were thinking, you were a damn noble girl not some secret agent, super spy who could successfully infiltrate one of the most dangerous organizations in all of Teyvat.

“You want the same thing as I do, don’t you?” was all Artem responded with. “No one knows what they want, what their goal is or anything, but they promised to restore the aristocracy and to do that, the Fatui needs to be weakened… so I figure the more people working for this, the better.”

Your nose wrinkled, “You aligned with these people without even knowing who they are or what they want?” you asked in disbelief.

“Didn’t you?” Artem countered sharply.

You felt hot, called out for your hypocrisy, “That’s not the same. I was desperate.”

“So are we,” Artem said, lips pressed together as he turned away.

The carriage was approaching the palace, as large as the one back home in Fontaine and just as magnificent. Where the one in Fontaine City was lined with gold, stunning beneath the rare show of the sun, Zapolyarny Palace glittered white beneath the moonlight, like a million diamonds coated the surface--beautiful, but possibly the most daunting sight you’d ever come across. The sky that weighed on you tripled in weight, you thought you might throw up.

“What should I expect in there?” you asked quietly, breaking the sudden tension between the two of you. You figured it was not the best idea to antagonize your one ally in this place.

Artem sighed, looking back over at you, “Just stay by me,” he said. “Of all the aristocratic families in Snezhnaya, mine is one that’s heavily aligned with the Fatui… at least in their eyes. We’ll probably have a few of their more important subordinates coming over to talk to us but the Harbingers will be focused on the more antagonistic families to make sure they don’t pull anything. We’ll keep away from them and hopefully, keep their attention off of us. As long as we skate by without having to deal with any of the Harbingers, we’ll be good… I’ll try to find some opportunities for you to slip away and do what you need to do.”

What I need to do, it echoed in your head. The palace was right before you and you still had no idea what you needed to do to prove your stepfather’s hand in your father’s death. You had to find evidence. But how? You figured that there weren’t a lot of Fatui spies in Fontaine--too many would draw too much attention, it would be easier to just have one embedded deep in the courts… which would make it an important, covert operation. They had to have records of that somewhere.

“Do you know what each of the Harbingers do?” you asked.

“Like what they oversee?” Artem questioned, brows furrowed, you nodded. “Vaguely.”

“Intel?”

“Internal intel? I’d say the Regrator or the Rooster. External? The Knave, the Marionette and the Friar all deal with it, as far as I’m aware.”

You went quiet, letting out a shaky breath at his words. Three different Harbingers who could be overseeing your stepfather in Fontaine--the Fourth, the Seventh, or the Tenth. You shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. The palace would be crawling with Fatui operatives, how the hell were you supposed to sneak through them all and figure out where the information might be.

Instead of letting yourself become riddled with anxiety, you asked the last question that had been weighing on your mind.

“How don’t the Fatui know about these people?” you asked quietly. “I figured they knew everything that goes on in Snezhnaya, you’d think an organization with this much influence…”

Unless there’s someone hiding it from the inside? But what were the chances of that?

“I don’t know,” Artem admitted. “Maybe they do and we’re all just getting played, or maybe the Harbingers are blind to a rat right beneath their noses.”

“You could do something beyond just standing there,” a cold, dry voice said from behind him.

Dottore didn’t even bother to turn around and face her, instead watching the scene before him carefully. The aristocrats had been steadily arriving for an hour, filling up the ballroom, mingling with one another. Most kept a wide berth from the Fatui who had come out for the event. It was the largest event the Fatui had hosted in decades, twice as big as Pantalone’s promotion because it was signaling the completion of the upper echelon, the start of what would be the final preparations for war.

“I don’t see you rushing to join in the celebrations,” Dottore responded, gaze finally shifting from the wide double doors to Arlecchino, who had come to stand next to him, arms crossed against her chest as she watched Columbina’s fingers fly across the piano.

“I plan to,” Arlecchino told him, “I have a feeling tonight's going to be more interesting than we think.”

Dottore eyed her carefully as he digested the cryptic comment, trying to figure out what exactly she meant, before simply saying, “I hope so, at least then it will be an entertaining waste of my time.”

Arlecchino only let out a huff of laughter, but there was no amusement behind the action, “What do you think of the boy taking the Eleventh Seat?”

“He’s a child.” Dottore waved off the question, he cared not for the boy.

Capitano evidently saw potential in him but Dottore only saw an unpredictability that they shouldn’t be risking this close to the beginning of their real purpose. He only advocated for him because he thought he would get the chance to study him but Pulcinella was being careful to make sure that he was never in the capital long enough for Dottore to get to him. The only boon that came along with promoting him was that he was eager to please, willing to take on the jobs that none of the rest of them wanted to deal with as a means to prove himself.

“Then his moniker is fitting,” this time there was a scathing sort of amusement in her tone, “but even a blind man could make that observation. I asked you for your opinion of him.”

Dottore’s lip twitched in irritation. “That is my opinion of him,” he said coolly. “He is a child. He is immature and foolish, abuses the technique he learned while in the Abyss. He will die soon because of it. I would like to run some tests on him before then but I suppose life isn’t particularly necessary for them anyway… just more convenient.”

Arlecchino scoffed. “All you care about is your research, hm? Not even a hint of concern for those whom you call comrades?”

Dottore leveled his gaze on her. “No,” he said firmly, “and do not pretend as if you do. We both have seen what lies beneath that false face of yours.”

Arlecchino smiled, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the ballroom, “Fair enough.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than bother me, Knave?” Dottore asked, a sardonic tone seeping into his words as he continued, “like to go fetch your pet before he makes an embarrassment of us again.”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom floor, pointedly looking in the direction of Brighella, busy trying to woo the daughter of one of the aristocratic families who was giving Pantalone a hard time.

“Speaking of pets,” Arlecchino said, a mocking tone to her voice that Dottore didn’t quite like, “do you plan on getting rid of yours because of his failure to get you the funding you wanted? … I overheard your conversation with the Jester the other day, shame to hear about how poorly all of your projects are going.”

Beneath his mask, Dottore’s eyes hardened, turning his head to the side to look at Arlecchino again. He wasn’t sure what he was more annoyed by: the fact that she had listened in on his conversation with Pierro and he hadn’t even noticed or the fact that she was making a dig at his research.

“Not quite as poorly as the decline of the House of the Hearth. How many of your orphans have gone missing in the past few years again?” Dottore countered lowly, watching as Arlecchino’s eyes flashed with fury for just a moment, needling right through her cold mask.

It wasn’t even like his research was going poorly. It was just the typical pattern of adjusting to failures to find the right set of combinations to perfect the formula. Pierro was just impatient because he did not want to send three of the Eleven out to their missions with delusions that were still sapping their vitality. He had made enough progress so that they were no longer life-threatening with significant use, and as far as he was aware, the Balladeer was going to bring the old, faulty delusions down to Inazuma once Arlecchino’s agents wove their web through the Commissions.

Dottore didn’t even understand why this was all necessary, frowning again as he looked out at the aristocrats. Pantalone had already torn the Triglav apart at its seams and the aristocrats were floundering with no shield to protect them from the Fatui. There was not much consolidation of power left to do in Snezhnaya. If anything, this was just excessive—making sure they knew just how strong the Fatui was so that they didn’t get any bright ideas when they began to focus on obtaining the Gnoses.

“I have the House of the Hearth under control,” Arlecchino said, voice icy. “Can you say the same about your segments?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “Yes.”

Especially now that he had finally made contact with her. If he had known that the barest conversation with her would lead to even the Theta segment doing as he asked with little pushback, maybe he would have reached out sooner.

Maybe.

An odd feeling settled in his chest as his thoughts fell to her again. He didn’t like thinking about her for too long but he hadn’t heard anything from her since that night Rho lost her. He knew she wasn’t dead, the thread still hung from his finger and the mark between his shoulder blades was still a bright purple. He wondered if she was just ignoring him or if there was something else going on. He had tried to look into it but hadn’t been able to find any previous examples of something interfering with a bond… which led him to believe that she was ignoring him, maybe as payback for all of the years he went ignoring her.

Either way, he didn’t like it.

Arlecchino abruptly stepped forward next to him, eyes narrowed. Dottore followed her gaze, eyes falling on the livid expression that Sandrone wore as she spoke to Capitano, standing near the piano Columbina was playing at, motioning in the direction of the double doors of the ballroom. Dottore tried to figure out what had her so angry but nothing stood out--Scaramouche was nowhere to be found and usually he was the one to set her in a foul mood by insulting her automatons, otherwise it wasn’t often that her temper was set off because she simply did not care for anything else.

Arlecchino immediately set off in their direction and Dottore, curiosity piqued and hoping to make the night pass faster but entertaining himself with whatever had Sandrone set off, followed after, watching in amusement as their subordinates and the few aristocrats who had crossed the floor to intermingle scattered at their approach.

Capitano raised his head once he caught sight of the two of them, motioning them over. Sandrone pressed her lips together, staying silent until they were close enough to hear what they were talking about. Columbina’s fingers still flew across the keys of the piano, focused on the sonata, but Dottore knew she was listening too: there was a soft smile gracing her face, one that screamed amusement and not the mere enjoyment that came with playing the instrument. Dottore thought that if Columbina was amused by something, then it might spell trouble for all of them, the eerie comment she made about his soulmate a few months back suddenly ringing through his head.

I would like to meet her when she gets here.

Dottore felt unsettled, raising his head to look out across the ballroom floor to look for something but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. All it took was Sandrone opening her mouth once, and the entire world around him froze and shattered.

“One of the aristocrats brought one of the Hydro Archon’s dogs to our event as his date,” she spat out. “This needs to be handled now.”

There were eyes on you.

You didn’t dare to turn to look so you could figure out who was watching you, the last thing you wanted to do was bring more attention to yourself but you couldn’t smother the growing anxiety. You kept your back to them, feigning interest in whatever conversation Artem was having with one of his cousins so that they didn’t know you were aware of their scrutiny even though every inch of you itched to look behind you.

The ballroom was packed to the brim, you thought that every aristocrat in Snezhnaya must be attending this event. It almost reminded you of the balls back home in Fontaine City. The paintings lining the walls were stunning and the ornaments glittered prettily beneath the dim lighting. No one had made their way to the smooth hardwood floor to dance yet despite the quintet of musicians playing in the corner of the room, a beautiful symphony that was not quite harmonious with the eerie piano being played somewhere behind you.

If you weren’t so nervous, you might be able to appreciate the beauty of it… but Fatui lined the room--agents and mages and captains, they were unarmed as far as you could tell but you had a feeling that could change in a moment’s notice.

You felt trapped, like a cornered animal.

There was no way for you to slip away, not when you were being watched and not when the Fatui seemed to be guarding each and every exit. Everything was crumbling around you and you had only been there for a half hour. You tried to calm yourself down, force yourself to think and figure out a plan but every time you tried to do that, you were interrupted by some Snezhnayan noble who wanted to greet Artem.

What did you expect? You spat at yourself angrily. For the Fatui to leave holes in their defenses right at their heart? For you to just walk right in and be given the information you wanted by your stepfather’s superior?

You would leave empty-handed at this rate--the one opportunity handed to you on a silver platter slipping away like water between your fingers. You had to figure out what to do now because there was nothing you could do if you left the palace without the evidence you needed. Zapolyarny Palace was impenetrable, everyone you had come across had made that clear, you would not get another chance like this. This was your easy way into the palace but what could you do? Even if you managed to slip past the guards into the hall, making an excuse to use the bathroom or freshen up, it didn’t change the fact that somehow, you had already drawn attention to yourself.

How? What had it been?

You had not made any sort of scene. You were not overdressed or underdressed, nor did your colors stand out. There were people dressed in bright red gowns, different shades of purple and blue and green, blacks and whites. Artem was not from a contentious family so there was no reason for him to have drawn attention.

What had done it? Was Artem unaware of some conflict between his family and the Fatui? Or was it something else…

Did someone know who you were?

You felt a bit sick at the thought, smile faltering as your grip on Artem’s forearm tightened. You noticed him cast a brief, worried glance down at you but you were too preoccupied to reassure him that you were okay.

Did someone know who you were?

The question echoed through your head over and over again and you realized, slowly, that it was very, very possible and it was something that you had not even considered could be an issue. Your stepfather shouldn’t know where you were going, you hadn’t even confirmed to your mother that you were leaving for Snezhnaya--you had insisted it was Mondstadt--but if he had taken a picture of you and sent it to his superior in Snezhnaya as intel he was passing along about your family and they recognized you when you walked through those doors with Artem…

Suddenly, the urge to turn around and pinpoint who was watching you skyrocketed because if it were true, then that was how you were going to know which Harbinger was supervising your stepfather’s mission--the first step in finding the evidence.

You let out a quiet breath, about to turn your head to the side just a bit to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever was staring at you but before you could, a hand brushed your forearm. You masked the irritation you felt as you turned your attention back to Sonia, Artem’s cousin’s wife. She smiled at you, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder as she asked:

“So how did you and Artem meet?”

You smiled, leaning into the man and looking up at him, hoping that the gesture came across more adoring than the brief spike of panic you felt. The two of you had intended on going for a simple story: you had met while on the Snezhnaya-Fontaine border and instantly fell for one another, love at first sight, a classic romance… but now you weren’t sure if admitting that you were from Fontaine was the best course of action. Artem was confused, you could see the glimmer in his eyes as he smiled down at you, and you didn’t know what to do.

The split second that had passed since Sonia’s question felt like eternity and finally you responded with a soft laugh, “We met on the border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine. I had gone a bit north to find a nice present for my siblings, their birthday is coming up. I ran into him while shopping and he helped me find the perfect gift. I thought all of those romance books were exaggerating when they talked about love at first sight but I became a victim of it just like that.”

You were only half listening as Sonia cooed and leaned into Artem’s cousin, talking about how the two of them met at a seaside village in western Snezhnaya. You decided that going with the original story was for the best. If, by chance, the Harbingers did happen to know that you were a noble from Fontaine already then it would only draw more suspicion if it got around to them that you were claiming to be a Snezhnayan commoner or even from another foreign nation.

So many ifs. You hated uncertainty.

Lost in thoughts, you were only drawn back to reality as your forearm stung--the telltale sign that your soulmate was reaching out, again. Your lips pressed together in annoyance.

He had been persistent the past two weeks. Every day, he would ask where you were and what had happened but even if you wanted to, there was no way of telling him where you were--he should know that--but the thing was, you didn’t want to. You thought that he had no right suddenly caring about where you were and if you were okay and you were mad at yourself for giving in and responding when you were hurt. He went twenty years ignoring you when you tried over and over and over again just to get to know him, the person that Celestia had tied you with, and he constantly disregarded and even rebuffed you.

You had never heard of someone being rejected by their soulmate until yours had rejected you. It was humiliating, even if only the two of you were aware of what had been said, but more than that it hurt. You dedicated years to him, your whole life was centered around him from having to hide the fact that you had a soulmate to the years you spent in libraries trying to understand him in hopes that it would somehow make him care about your existence, years that you could have spent with your father.

You looked down as discreetly as you could, reading the scratchy words painted on your forearm:

Where are you?

You barely withheld the roll of your eyes as you turned your gaze back up to Sonia, smiling as she laughed at whatever Artem’s cousin had said.

Artem looked as if he was about to speak up but before he could, there was a sharp rap of metal against glass from the front of the room. Instantly, conversation silenced and all heads turned in the direction of the noise--finally, you could turn to see who was staring at you but it was too late; whoever they were, they had already looked away.

“We are here today to officially announce the occupation of the Eleventh Seat,” a low, male voice announced. Your eyes shifted to him--half of his face was covered by a black mask, white hair long and slicked back--you weren’t sure who he was, you hadn’t been given descriptions of the Harbingers, but you figured he was high ranking if he was making this announcement.

“The Jester,” Artem said under his breath. Your eyes widened just a bit. The Jester, you recognized, the leader. “The rest are…”

All around him, you finished silently, your throat closing up as you caught sight of the daunting figures standing around the stage at the front of the room. You didn’t have to know what they looked like to know who they were, their presence and way they held themselves was evidence enough. An unnerving woman with long black and pink hair leaning on the piano, a man wearing a helmet where the face appeared to be an endless void, a woman with an empty expression, silver hair and a blade strapped to her side and…

“A recruit who has proven himself time and time again: felling our enemies without question when we were faced with the threat of a Natlan tribe on the southern border, protecting our people when the Great Wyvern of the northern caverns awoke from its slumber to terrorize our villages, and defending our integrity when called into question by the former Duke of Costesov…”

The Jester was still talking but your gaze had focused in on a familiar man standing off to the side, a bit aways from the small group at the piano--masked and with wavy blue hair, the Fatui subordinates in the area kept a wide distance from him.

It was him, you realized, a cold feeling settling over you, the man who had attacked the inn you had been staying at.

It was her. His soulmate.

Dottore was barely able to mask the torrent of emotions tearing through him. He had known it even before he reached out to her to confirm it, watching her look down at her forearm as soon as he had asked her where she was, and he didn’t know what to think, or do, for that matter.

Around him, the other Harbingers were still talking amongst each other--Arlecchino making snide comments and Sandrone’s letting loose livid remarks about the sheer audacity the Hydro Archon had to a spy so blatantly to their main base. They were talking about handling her and Dottore knew very well that the only way the Fatui knew how to handle things was by getting rid of them.

Getting rid of her. He couldn’t let that happen--he didn’t know how it would affect him and… Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable tugged hard at his chest as his eyes fell back on the girl in the purple dress, watching as she leaned into a boy from one of the Snezhnayan noble families, listening to Pierro’s speech. This was why he didn’t like thinking about her for too long but now he didn’t really have a choice.

“How are you so sure that she’s a noble from Fontaine?” Dottore asked, cutting off Arlecchino mid-sentence as he looked at Sandrone.

Sandrone’s lip curled up, not even bothering to hide the irritation and disgust as she spared Dottore half a glance. “I’d recognize a member of the five families anywhere,” Sandrone said coldly, nose turned up at him. “I was born into one of them.”

That’s right, Dottore remembered vaguely. Sandrone had come from Fontaine. The Harbingers had long given up their names and old lives, they rarely mentioned their pasts--he wasn’t even sure some of them remembered their pasts, he sent a short look toward Capitano at the thought.

“She’s part of the third family, the one that controls the prisons. You know what her family’s talent is?” Sandrone asked sharply, looking back in the direction of his soulmate. “They learned to utilize their hydro vision in a way that lets them twist up peoples’ insides. They usually use it for interrogation but do you know what else it can be used for?”

The third family. Dottore knew enough about Fontaine’s structure to know what that meant: Fontaine had five aristocratic families that were held above the rest, each one of them controlling one of the five main institutions of the nation. No wonder she had to hide her mark.

“Assassinations,” Capitano finished, voice low.

Dottore scoffed loudly. “Her?” he asked dryly, nodding in the direction of his soulmate, dismissing their deductions instantly. “An assassin? She looks like a newborn deer, not a killer.”

She did, Dottore noted offhandedly, eyes drawing back to her for just a moment. She was trying to hide her anxiety and she was doing a good job at it but every now and then, she slipped up, hands shaking just a bit more than they should, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looked around. Dottore thought a bit of fondness might’ve been stirring the longer he looked at her so he immediately looked away and quashed it, forcing his attention back to the other Harbingers.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Dottore,” Capitano said quietly.

Not hers, Dottore wanted to spit right back—the girl that spent hours on end trying to talk to him and get to know him, undeterred by his lack of response, was no damn killer but he had no way of explaining that to them without admitting who she was to him and he simply refused to open up that weakness to them.

What should he do? He had to interfere but he didn’t know how to do that without making them question why he was stepping in. Dottore cared for nothing but his research--if this was any other person, Dottore wouldn’t have even bothered to give input into the conversation and he was sure that he was already making them suspicious.

“Whether she’s a threat or not, this has to be handled quickly,” Capitano finally said and Dottore felt cold, mind racing to piece together a plan but nothing was feasible. “We can’t afford to risk anything, not here and not now.”

Dottore’s anxiety began to shift into anger the more he dwelled on it and realized that he was backed into a corner because of her, wondering just how stupid his soulmate was showing up to this event on the arm of some random aristocrat. Livid, his gaze shifted to the side again, watching as she leaned into the man’s arm and smiled up at him.

Betrothed, Dottore suddenly remembered one of the things he had recalled from one of the dreams he had of her life. Is this…

“Who is the man she is with?” he interrupted abruptly, voice tense.

“Artem Melnyk,” a new voice said from behind him, Dottore glanced over his shoulder as Pantalone came to stand next to him. “I take it you all are discussing our unexpected, foreign guest.”

Pantalone looked at Dottore as if he knew exactly who she was--maybe he did, Dottore didn’t know if that was for better or for worse. He felt like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the first perceived attack.

“He will have to be handled,” Dottore said tightly. “I’ll deal with that.”

Dottore thought he would enjoy having this particular new subject in his labs.

“The more pressing matter is the girl,” Sandrone spat out, her one-track mind stuck on Dottore’s soulmate. “She needs to be taken out.”

Dottore thought this might be it, he was about to lash out, but before he could, Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “A bit rash, no?” he asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “How will that make us look? Executing a foreign noble for no good reason besides attending a ball with her lover?”

Lover, Dottore was appalled, turning his head to look at Pantalone. Pantalone, evidently, was incredibly entertained by the situation, smile widening just a bit as Dottore looked at him, making him feel as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do you suggest we do then, Regrator?” Capitano questioned. He did not sound half as amused as Pantalone did.

“Send someone out there to feel her out,” Pantalone said as if it were obvious. His voice took on a more exasperated tone as he continued, “Snezhnaya is in such a poor diplomatic position already specifically because you all tend to kill first, ask questions later. Have we not been trying to rectify that? In what world is killing her the best course of action?”

Sandrone did not look happy, lips pressed together tight, and Pantalone was looking at Dottore, violet eyes expectant as if he was waiting for Dottore to offer to be the one to go talk to her. Dread began to build in his stomach again, realizing that if he went to go talk to her, it would be the end. All of the time he had spent ensuring they would never meet, all of the years he was working severing the bond, it would all be for naught.

“Fine,” Arlecchino said before Dottore could open his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Dottore didn’t speak as he turned to look at Arlecchino, barely catching the frustrated look in Pantalone’s eyes. Arlecchino was staring right at him, the red x’s in her eyes boring right into him as if she knew something that she shouldn’t, expression cold and unreadable.

Dottore suddenly felt as if he had made a mistake not speaking up immediately.

Just as Arlecchino moved to make her way to his soulmate, Columbina finally spoke up, long, pale fingers wrapping around Arlecchino’s wrist. “No,” she said. “The Doctor will handle it. You promised to play a song with me.”

Dottore thought he liked that even less than Arlecchino’s immediate offer to speak to her but he wasn’t going to give the Knave any time to argue with Columbina, scoffing as he took the opportunity to turn on his heel and walk in the direction of his soulmate and her date.

Pierro’s speech had ended and the musicians were picking up the volume of their piece--soon, couples would make their way out to the ballroom floor to dance but for now, they parted as he crossed the hardwood floor, giving him a wide berth as he walked directly to her.

What was he going to do?

He wondered if this was her plan all along, if she had somehow figured out who he was and what he was a part of so she could throw herself into a dangerous situation and he’d be forced to act. Not for the first time, Dottore felt like he was being played as a puppet except now he didn’t know if it was Celestia holding the strings or her. He had half a mind to let her deal with the consequences of her own actions, let her face one of the other Harbingers and try to convince them she was no threat, but he couldn’t risk letting anything happen to her because it would affect him.

He would have to make sure she knew who he was to her. The last thing he needed was her making a scene if she realized it mid-conversation, assuming she didn’t know already.

She was oblivious to his approach, back turned to him as she talked with Artem Melnyk, but he was not as oblivious. He caught sight of Dottore over her shoulder, expression shifting into one of fear—something that ordinarily would have had him amused but now, just as for the past half an hour, he could only focus on her.

She turned as she noticed Artem’s change in attitude and Dottore wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting the anger that followed the confused expression on her face, eyebrows knit together as she stared at him, a hint of anxiety painted in the rage but just that, only a hint.

No recognition and no familiarity--not a type that signaled that she knew she was meeting her soulmate, at least.

Dottore wondered if that meant she had no idea who he was to her and if that was the case, what the hell was she doing there?

For the first time, Dottore’s eyes traced his soulmate’s face. He couldn’t help but notice that even with the anger, her eyes were still gentle and her expression was still soft. You don’t belong here, he wanted to say, not in this place and not with me, but instead, he only held his right hand out to her and watched, waiting for her to take his hand and finally take notice of the thread that connected the two of them.

She hesitated only for a second as she glanced down at his hand, placing her own in it and Dottore watched the double-take, the way her eyes widened just a bit as she looked down at their connected hands, at the thread connected to his thumb that she could see. His grip tightened just enough to force her attention back to his face before she could make a scene.

There was still anger as she looked up at him again but it was diluted beneath a type of astonished adoration that had never before been directed his way. He knew it was just the shock of finally meeting him and that the anger would return when she remembered the years he went ignoring her but it didn't mitigate the unwelcome feeling rising in his gut. He wanted to look away, uncomfortable under the affectionate gaze and uncomfortable even just touching her because he knew deep down that it felt right and he refused to give into this bond.

He refused to play Celestia’s game.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her knuckles, “Dance with me?” he murmured, loud enough just for her to hear.

He figured that once people began to flood the dance floor, he would be able to speak with her without as many unwanted ears able to listen in.

“You’re-” she began, breathless and stunned--distastefully, he noticed that Artem was still holding her arm, as if to protect her from him. The thought itself would have amused him in any other circumstance but now it only irritated him even more.

Dottore cut her off, giving her a thin smile: “The Doctor, Second of the Fatui Harbingers.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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cheese-ception · 9 months

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Yīnyuán Hóngxiàn

姻缘红线 [ yīnyuán hóngxiàn ] means the red thread of fate warnings: none word count: 687

During a shopping trip in the Liyue Harbor with Zhongli, you decide to look for a small but meaningful gift for Xiao. After careful deliberation, combined with a touch of mirthful advice from the retired geo archon, you opt for a red string bracelet, with another one for you to match. Zhongli tells you that one of the meanings behind this sort of a bracelet is protection against bad karma, and you can't help but to find that to be quite the touching sentiment, especially considering Xiao's condition. What he neglects to mention, however, is the fact that a crimson string of identical hue is also believed to signify the inevitable fate of marriage between two people destined to be together. Oblivious to that knowledge you complete your purchase, bid farewell to your esteemed advisor and set off for a trip to Wangshu Inn, elated at the thought of presenting the yaksha with your little token of affection. As soon as you reach the spacious balcony, serene and bathed in moonlight by the time your journey concludes, you waste no time and call out to him. Just as the last letter of his name rolls off your lips, he is there, and your heart flutters in your chest, the eagerness with which he appears before you never failing to pull at its strings. Focused on you, Xiao appears visibly pleased to see that you are not in any danger, and you proceed to explain the reasons behind his summons. Or try to, anyway. You stammer a bit, pulling the box with your gift out of your sleeve, awkwardly requesting for him to remove his right glove, and he obliges, patiently waiting for you to finish with your ministrations. Carefully, you finally manage to tie the red bracelet on for him, but as you're about to let go of his wrist, you feel a gentle grasp around your hand, eyes meeting his in a daze. "This is unexpected," he murmurs as he holds you still, cheeks tinged with a rapidly spreading blush. The sight leaves you at a loss for words and before you manage respond, he continues. "We have been close for quite a while and surely you are aware of my feelings for you, but for you to suddenly propose like this is still rather surprising." It really is your turn to be surprised though, the realisation of his interpretation hitting you like a crashing wave, causing you to promptly glance away. Noticing the shift in atmosphere, Xiao's shoulders stiffen, his hands snatched away from you by the prickly pang of regret. "Perhaps I misunderstood," he utters, his voice barely above a whisper. "It is unsurprising you wouldn't want to truly bind yourself to one such as I, after all. Think nothing of this brief lapse in my judgement. Thank you, though. For the gift. I shall cherish it nevertheless." His gaze lingers on you, intense and sincere, and it's then that your mind is made. Before you even fully realise it, you bridge the space between your bodies, cupping his still flustered face, your shared warmth dispelling some of the tension. Xiao's eyes close and he leans into your touch. It feels beyond precious and intimate. A display of trust reserved just for you. Letting one of your hands drop back to his wrist, the pads of your fingers caress it gently, stroking his skin as well as the red string that adorns it. "You didn't misunderstand." "…" He blinks, confused, lips parting slightly in silent anticipation. "While the original intent of this gift wasn't as such, please don't be mistaken. I would very much love for it to be the symbol of our bond as well, if that's what you also want." The following moment, all is still. No more words get exchanged between the two of you, but the way Xiao's hold on you tightens tells you more than any of them ever could, the relieved sigh which he lets out the only sound as he cradles you to his chest tenderly, grateful to accept all that you've chosen to give him. ________ Masterlist

#xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #xiao x you #xiao x reader #genshin #alatus #yaksha #vigilant yaksha #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact hcs

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quibbs126 · 1 year

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Alright, this might take some explaining, but basically this is just like an idea for an au I had based on my friend’s description of the premise of a show she and her mom are watching that I just decided I need to cross over with Cookie Run. Also I liked the premise

I’ll give you the rundown of what she told me right quick. Oh, also disclaimer, I don’t actually know what the show is called, nor do I know the names of any of the characters, since she didn’t tell me, as well as I believe the fact that she didn’t know how to translate the names into English

So basically, our main character is this prince who got exiled from his kingdom for being part of a rebellion. On his way leaving the kingdom, he gets accosted and loses all his magical items (I’m guessing the kingdom was either magic or divine in some way, I don’t remember if she explained), and basically is now stuck at the level of a normal person. So the prince ends up opening an inn in the mountains. Business isn’t the best but he’s getting by. Anyways, one day, a group of thugs comes in and basically demands the prince (he’s hiding his identity so no one knows he’s a prince and think he’s a regular dude, but I don’t know his name, so I’m calling just him that) lets them stay in his rooms, feed them breakfast (and I assume dinner) and basically do their bidding or they take him out. The prince says something along the lines of “you aren’t even worth a single thread on my jacket” and basically refuses. The thugs attack but it just so happens another traveler was at the inn at the time, and they use their martial arts to take out all the thugs, though in the process the inn gets destroyed. The traveler basically says their work here is done, but the prince is like “um no, you destroyed my inn! I can’t pay to have all this repaired, I don’t have that kind of money! You gotta pay for all of this!”. Now see, the traveler is going to this special tower (I think there might have been a tournament there?) which has something at the end of it. We don’t know what the traveler wants from the tower, but they want something. The traveler says to the prince that they’re going to this tower for a tournament and there will be a monetary reward, and once they win they’ll pay the prince back. The prince decides that they’ll go along, saying it’s to make sure they’ll actually keep their word and not run out on their debt (though my friend said that the traveler’s martial art school was known to be reliable and trustworthy, so he could trust them, it was for some other reason that they decided to join that I can’t remember). So yeah, the two set out towards this tower

And so yeah, in my brain as she was explaining this, I was connecting this to Dark Choco, and here we are. So in this au, Dark Choco takes the role of the prince (unsurprisingly), where after his banishment and losing all his stuff (I’m assuming that includes the Strawberry Jam Sword), he sets up an inn somewhere and one day meets a traveler by the name of Peach Cookie, and after an altercation that leaves his inn trashed, Peach promises to pay him back with money from this tournament at a tower (the only tower I know is the Tower of Frozen Waves, so maybe it’s there? But I don’t know much about that tower either), and Dark Choco, a bit suspicious, goes along with her, and they’re off on an adventure together towards this tower

Oh, or maybe this tournament has to do with that competition mentioned in Tiger Lily’s Golden Warrior costume? The one about the Temple in the Sky? Maybe it could be that instead, so it ties in more with actual Cookie Run stuff

Oh and as for the designs, I just wanted them to wear less conspicuous things (also Dark Choco might have lost his armor so he just has regular clothes), since I imagine they’re trying to keep a low profile. But maybe I should have drawn Peach Cookie in her normal outfit, that probably still would have worked. Unless au things change her backstory or something, I haven’t worked it out

I don’t know where this would go, but I thought the premise was neat and wanted to draw it. Also I just kind of want to see these two interact

Anyways yeah, I hope you enjoy the idea at least, even if there’s not much to look at

Edit: The show is called The Blood of Youth

#cookie run #cookie run au #dark choco cookie #peach cookie #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run kingdom #might as well #my art #my au #if by the premise anyone knows what the show is please tell me I am quite interested #I think the show is Chinese since I know my friend and her mom like to watch c-dramas #though I’m realizing the easiest solution would probably just be to ask her #also she’s probably my best bet at actually finding somewhere to watch it because I’m not as well versed in pirating #but anyways the original pick for the traveler she suggested was Milk Cookie #because the traveler I believe was described as something like a golden retriever?#(also I’m not sure how much Cookie Run she knows besides what I infodump to her)#but I didn’t choose him bc Milk and Dark Choco have met before and recognize each other #and I don’t think the prince and traveler have ever met before (though I believe the traveler suspects he’s more than what he seems)#so instead I went with Peach since I thought she would be the best fit #also while making this I was reminded of my Jujube/Dark Cacao thing so I might possibly incorporate that into this au #like imagine the two turn out to secretly be half siblings or something #I mean I did give them the same red eyes (mostly because it matched both) so who knows #even though personally I think Peach is Jujube’s adopted daughter if anything #but again who knows

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nirikeehan · 1 year

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wip wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @melisusthewee!

This week, in honor of @wolfs-dawn's birthday, I have put her OC Alora Lavellan and my OC Thalia Trevelyan into a spooky Situation™. They've gotten lost after one of their horses lost a shoe and they can't find their way back to Caer Bronach in Crestwood.

---

Thalia took a breath and let it out slowly. The threads of panic she’d been ignoring for hours began to seep in. Above the tree canopy, the sky was fading from pink to a navy blue; soon the stars would be out. It had all seemed so simple at lunchtime. Alora had arrived in Crestwood unexpectedly, sent to tend to the new retinue of horses operating out of Caer Bronach. Thalia and her field team were still in the region, sweeping the area for any lingering undead since closing the Fade rift under Old Crestwood. Now that the weather had improved, it seemed the perfect opportunity for a forest ride.

They were without any camping supplies, having assumed they’d have a quick jaunt and be back at the keep by dinner. They’d gone without any escort or security detail, because that defeated the purpose of stepping out on work to spend your afternoon with a friend. It also meant no one knew where they were, or how to reach them. And the “shortcut” Thalia opted to take had only gotten them more lost.

“So. What are our options?” Thalia asked, putting on the voice she used at the war table.

“Er. Well. We could keep going,” Alora said. “Hope we find the main road again, or at least a village or crossroads inn that will take us for the night. Hope they have a farrier for Puck. I’ve got a few sovereigns in my pocket.”

“Right. Or…” Thalia glanced at the grove of trees straddling the path. “I guess we could try sleeping here and set out again by the morning’s light.”

“No offense, Your Worship,” Alora replied, “but I’m not keen on sleeping on the ground and foraging berries for our supper tonight. I know the Dalish have a reputation, but bad conditions favor nobody.”

“All right, all right. We’ll go a little longer. But if it gets fully dark I think we need to reassess. These woods aren’t safe at night.” Thalia almost added that they were barely safe during the day, what with the reports of Red Templars out in the hills, but she didn’t want to add to Alora’s worry. That had barely been a consideration earlier in the day.

The two continued down the desolate country road, the twilight deepening. Before long, the trees grew ever thicker, and a low mist rolled in along the ground. Ambient animal sounds drew nearer: crickets, hooting owls, and a fluttering of wings that might be bats.

A high-pitched inhuman whine filled the air, distant but disquieting.

Alora gasped, looking about as her horse whickered in fear. “What was that?”

“Wolves, I think,” Thalia whispered.

“Oh.” Alora’s voice trembled. “Right. Okay. Just wolves. Hungry for flesh and blood, probably.” She laughed nervously. “I take everything back. We should have stayed where we were.”

“Wolves aren’t so bad,” Thalia said, trying to keep her voice light. “We could take them. I’ve got my staff and you’ve got your sword, right?”

“Yeahhhh, um. About that…”

“Alora.” Thalia stopped in her tracks. “You didn’t bring it?”

“I didn’t think I’d need it! In my defense.”

“Of course.” Maybe Thalia should have told her about the Red Templars. Or the dragon she’d spied circling the air south of the Crestwood dam. Or the reports of wyvern sightings in the area. “Well. I know this much: when we get back, Blackwall is going to be furious.”

She imagined what the stoic, black-clad Grey Warden was doing in her absence. Probably pacing about Caer Bronach, seething. He misliked letting her get into intrigues on her own. Which, given how dangerous much of the Thedosian wilderness had proven to be, was probably wise.

“Is now really the time to bring him up?” Alora asked, urging Alassa through a particularly dense patch of fog. “Creators, I swear sometimes that man acts more like your babysitter than your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Thalia huffed. “He’s my sworn knight and protector.”

“Ah, I see. So your babysitter and your boyfriend.”

Thalia was about to hotly contest what must be a Dalish cultural misunderstanding of knightly chivalry, but Alora let out a small yelp. “Wait, hang on! I think I see something up ahead.”

---

Tagging, if interested:

#thalia trevelyan #alora lavellan #wip wednesday #blackwall x trevelyan

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arcplaysgames · 1 year

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IWATODAI TRIP CONTINUED

Teddie is the first King of the King's Game, because he is powered by Commercials and thus has batshit crazy luck.

/covers face with hand

(also, again: thank you Sam Riegel, I have no idea how I am enjoying this character instead of hating him, but it's happening. Fucking witchcraft.)

Please know that Teddie fucking BODIED kanji off the screen. I tried to screencap it but it was just too fucking fast. Imagine a kitten leaping on a stuffed toy and sliding across the floor. Also Kanji is like twice his size. I'm impressed.

Reverie draws the next King's lot out of the chopsticks.

i wonder if Yukiko and Rise are just those people who don't like each other until they are drunk and then they are like fucking BUDDIES.

Poor fucking Chie is sooooo not into this, bless her heart. Fistbump of solidarity.

(lmao kanji and teddie are still off-screen. teddie is gettin' his money's worth, I see.)

Yukiko decides she's the queen (shocker there) and demands Naoto tell the group something secret and embarrassing.

He, of course, plays it completely straight and uses the opportunity to tell his backstory, coming from a long ling of detectives from back when that kind of specialized expertise was more needed. Even though they are falling out of fashion in modern life, he's being raised as one by his grandfather.

Is Naoto capable of humor? Is there a humorous bone in his body? Naoto, I don't say this lightly but you should have a drink, buddy.

aaaaaaand she's asleep. yep. mmhm.

Yes. But not in the way you think. Naoto doesn't believe anyone about the TV world thing, which I guess isn't surprising. He'll figure it out soon I am certain. I wonder what his primary element is.... I wanna say ice but Chie and Teddie got that covered. Maybe Physical/Fire? No idea.

HEY. Only I'm allowed to call them dumbasses. Watch yourself, boyo.

But yeah these guys are fucking idiots, holy shit.

Oh of course we finish off at the ramen place. /sigh. How many nights did I spend here with Shinjiro, connecting over our mutual need to care for people. How many times did Akihiko bring us here to talk about quiet emotions. Junpei and I were regulars, speaking in conversations interwoven with sharp painful earnestness and the soft barrier of humor. Such was another life.

Ah. He's purposefully putting himself on TV.

That seems incredibly stupid.

OH SO HE IS JUST COUNTING ON US TO SAVE HIS DUMB ASS WHEN HE GETS GOT.

/grits teeth. FIIIIIIINE We'll pull your ass out of the fire, you stubborn fuck.

SUDDEN GEAR SHIFT, I'm almost done with Yukiko's SLink and it's really good! Back early in the SLink, she was openly hoping that the tabloidy news people would profile the Amagi Inn so it would go under so she could bounce without guilt.

Which, was very shitty.

Well, those news people returned to try and profile the Inn again and this time she went tf OFF on them and threatened them until they left.

I mean you did.

But Yukiko's decided that she wants to stay and help the inn after all. Now that she's set herself up to leave and had everything in order to bounce out, now that she finally understands her cage has no lock, she's more comfortable with it.

Which is a nice resolution for that dangling thread. I often say that gender is a prison until you understand you can stage a jailbreak at any time, and I guess it's similar for Yukiko.

SIGHS LOUDLY

I'M SORRY YUKIKO BUT I'M INTO GUYS THIS TIME. I'M SORRY YOU'RE REALLY NICE. maybe give Chie the time of day, she's crazy about you. okay bye love you gurl, you'll be okay.

#p4 #persona liveblog

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andthebubbles · 2 days

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gonna do something totally novel tonight (haha) ... i am gonna put a/b fic away!!! i edited ch 14 tonight and it's okay, still needs a bit more editing here and there but it's nothing massive, so that's... good. and then the next part needs some thinking/headcanoning...

like i think i could use humboldt (making him the butler in this universe) to stop benedict from sneaking out to see anthony, and also maybe berbrooke could throw a ball as an official introduction for himself into society as the baron... and maybe i can drop some hints via that (like maybe just that he was educated at harrow?)... and violet can be well-meaningly pushy when she finds out that benedict danced three dances with someone at the ball... AND his mystery friend supposedly punched someone lol. a lot to plan i guess, or like, ... use the upcoming stuff to set up the next part. and also i suppose benedict (and violet) might have to go to more than one event, with perhaps a few days break in between, or........ well, idk.

in the more immediate future, i need to plan out what frederick is gonna say to like, ... set this in motion lol (like, re right where i'm up to in the fic/how to get benedict to convincingly yeet anthony off to an inn (i mean i have some idea, but my brain is kinda scrambled today so i don't want to write it now))

mmkay! so i shut the fic doc :O i think i sorta have an upper limit of 3-4 consecutive days (four in this case) of writing before my brain sorta needs a break.

sims 4 news!! well, not news, but i've been watching deligracy's apartment renos, and i wanna open up the game now and try and do a reno on one of the apartments, because she did it in a particular way and the second bedroom looked like a closet, so i wonder if i could put the two bedrooms on the other side of the apartment since i don't mind pipes in the bedroom... (and then i want to make a family and have as many kids as i can cram into the tiny apartment hahaha)

aaaaaaaaaaaas for bridgerton 3x01 spoilers, i read a whole twitter thread of them yesterday, and i'll probably say this on another post when we get closer to the release date, but the four things i'm most looking forward to in s3 are these:

any scenes with anthony

any scenes with benedict

any scenes with anthony and benedict (there are (at least?) two in the first ep!!!! i'm so happy!! skjdnskJNKJNFGKJGN WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND THIS OUT MYSELF??)

CRELOISE OMG. i didn't know i needed creloise until the trailer dropped and now i'm so looking forward to it! i need cressida to be an evil bitch and skfjgnfkg if she gets a softer side on-screen, then that'll be interesting (but if she doesn't, that's... okay (maybe a missed opportunity haha); anyway if there's enough material/i am inspired enough, I WILL BE WRITING FIC and then maybe i'll put a softer side into her if i want to, aaaaaaaaaaaaaah (kinda interested in a non-sexual power play thing between them, then moving to sexual... but skjfngkfg let's see when s3 drops. suuuuper interesting that they've been hanging out in the country during the off-season :3)

#bton spoilers #in the last section of the post #a/b fic #fic talk #a&b #ramble.txt #untracked bton #sims 4 #creloise #aaagh i should've opened the sims while writing this bc now it's updatinggggg #btw i dled an anthony from the gallery and whumped him and stuck him in a glass cage in my (still incomplete) werewolf house :3 #HE'S LOCKED IN A GLASS CAGE WEARING NOTHING BUT LACY UNDIES eta and a collar HOW COULD I FORGET THE COLLAR #he pees himself all the time and his face is permanently miserable. he's so beautiful

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books · 3 years

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Tumblr Exclusive: Forestborn

Do you like shapeshifters, epic quests, magic, dark forests, and obstinate princes? Well, have we got an exclusive excerpt for you!

Forestborn is an upcoming @torteen novel by debut author Elayne Audrey Becker. Becker graduated from Vassar College with a BA in classics and history. She is currently continuing her education at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland after time spent as an editor with a New York publisher. She grew up with a lake and woods as her backyard, spending long days outside and visiting national parks with her family.

Forestborn will be available at bookstores everywhere from August 31. Read the exclusive excerpt below, and thanks again to Elayne for sharing her inspiration moodboard with us!

Forestborn By Elayne Audrey Becker

One

I find her deep in the Old Forest, facedown in the dirt.

Sharp pain needles my palms where I’ve balled my fists so tight, the nails have carved half-moon marks into the skin. Snaking across the twig-strewn ground, gnarled roots press against my boots like a warning as I roll the young woman onto her back. Best to be sure.

No, she is certainly dead. Cold, stiff, and hungry like the rest; even with forest debris masking much of her shirt, the threadbare cotton dips in unmistakable rivulets across her bony frame. I swallow my disappointment and push her eyelids shut, wanting to spare her kin the sight of those empty, pointless eyes.

“Sorry,” I murmur, sitting back on my heels. “I’m guessing you didn’t deserve this.”

Around us, the trees lean inward and down with ominous uniformity, leaves and branches straining against their holds, drawn to the dead woman as if tethered by ropes. The sway, the humans call it. I ignore the prickling in my belly. They’ll straighten out soon enough when the magic leaves her body.

With a final nod, I push to my feet and wend my way back to the forest’s edge. It’s a close wood, with broad oaks in summer bloom crowding the grassy floor, their leafy canopy admitting shafts of sunlight that glitter like crystal chandeliers. All in all, too peaceful a setting for someone driven to madness to die alone. I breathe it in deep to savor the scent while I can, grateful that for whatever reason, these trees never seem drawn to the magic in my own blood. I’ve had enough of vengeful wilderness to last a lifetime.

“Well?” Seraline asks, her knuckles nearly white where they clutch the hem of her shirt.

I shake my head. “Dead.”

Her shoulders sink. Though Seraline is sturdy as iron when she’s in her aunt’s tannery, shaping leather into draft horses’ yokes, standing a determined two paces behind the tree line now, she seems shakeable as snow.

“Come on,” I say, nodding to the stony town just across the open fields. “You’re going to be late.” I don’t ask if she plans to examine the body for herself. Seraline may have insisted on coming as a show of support, but our friendship has many limits, her discomfort with the dead and dying the least of them.

After a brief hesitation, Seraline falls into step at my side, sweeping her seeing stick across the ground in broad strokes. “Poor thing.”

I nod, my jaw clenched tight.

This time of year, the late summer air hangs heavy even in the early morning, enough that the back of my neck is already slick with sweat. The barley fields remain mercifully empty as we pick our way through the dusty rows, but still I plow forward with my head down and shoulders bent, half from habit and half spurred by the hour. Seraline isn’t the only one who’s running behind.

“Will you not come with us?” she asks, her head tipping to the side as we near the town. “Aren’t you due back in Roanin, anyway?”

“I can’t,” I reply, making it sound like an apology. I’m not really sure why we still play this game when we both know it’s futile. “I have a few things to take care of first.”

“Today of all days,” she snorts.

“You know how it is.” In truth, I’d give my right arm to stay away from the capital today. But there’s no help for it.

“Her husband deserves to know,” Seraline adds after a while. “The two of them were inseparable.”

“He will know. The trail wasn’t hard to follow.”

Seraline is always trying to persuade me to talk to the deceased’s families. She believes I have a softer manner than many in uniform, and once she even called me heartless for refusing. That time hurt the most. But it isn’t my job to report any deaths I uncover to next of kin. Only to the king. And it’s not like she’s stepping up to volunteer, anyway.

Briarwend is a humble farming town that stretches all of three streets, a collection of squared off stone shops that deal in necessity rather than charm. Its weather-worn residents are the same. When I began seeking intel here four years ago, long days tending the surrounding fields made the people lazy and open over a couple of pints. Lately, they’re just hungry, poor soil and rising taxes leaving gaping holes that only tempers seem to fill.

Each night under dwindling lamplight and over stained, sticky tables, the pub dwellers deal out anger and judgment like tossing seeds across the earth. The battered forest walker I helped home last night is not the only magical person I’ve found bleeding on cobbled streets. The humans’ anger is growing fists.

Seraline’s family is fixing their horse’s harness to an old wooden cart when we reach their cottage home. Most others have long since departed.

“Where have you been?” her mother demands, tightening the leather straps. The roan mare stamps a hoof, ears flicking nervously in my presence. “We should have left hours ago!”

“Lela needed my help. And you’re not ready, anyway.” Seraline shrugs.

“Nor are you. Breakfast is gone, so you’ll just have to wait. Go get changed.” She studiously avoids my eye, as if I’m not even there.

Seraline bids me farewell with a light touch on the shoulder, which causes her little sister to quickly interlace two pairs of twisted fingers and pull them apart. The sign to ward off bad fortune.

“You shouldn’t indulge my sister,” the dreadful Arden says once she’s gone, stomping over and swiping a greasy hand across his forehead. By far the weakest sibling in this family of four. “Seraline is delicate. She can’t be tramping about the kingdom with the likes of you.”

Which is ironic, really, since he was eager enough to sidle close last year, when he thought empty flattery might earn him a kiss. That was before a too-often empty belly soured his tongue, before he learned who and what I was. And though I truly could not care less what this boy thinks, I’m dismayed to find my stomach still burns with anger and something close to shame. My gaze drops to his pant leg, which bears splotches of dried blood from the night before.

“Problem?” Arden sneers, white skin burned red from long days in the sun.

A slow tingling feeling bubbles up from my core, threads of numbness that tiptoe across my arms and legs. I force myself to breathe deeply, to beat the threads back. “I know it was you,” I mutter.

He traces his chapped lips with two fingers, beady eyes darting to his mother before he leans forward, his smile stiffening. “You know nothing,” he hisses.

“You forget I have certain resources at my disposal.” I raise a hand in front of his flaking face, where my nails have sharpened into claws. “And that I know where you live.”

I stare until a satisfying trace of fear tinges Arden’s expression before stomping away toward the town’s single inn, which is little more than a guesthouse with four creaking rooms. If Helos were here, he would tell me to not take the bait, that I’m better than that. What he never seems to understand is that I’m not better than anything at all.

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Dirty Old Man

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Dubcon themes in the beginning (it’s later all consensual), Knifeplay (to remove clothing), Captivity/Kidnapping, Slapping, Daddy Kink, Some Assplay, Gagging (on fingers), Choking, One mention of blood, A little bit of bondage, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Age Gap, Kenny is a dirty old man.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s late, but it’s here! Here’s my part to the Smut Pile’s Western Collab! Please heed the warnings. Kenny is disgusting and I’m disgusting but here we are, fucking Kenny.

“I told you to stop running away. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of chasin you down.” Kenny spit the words out like poison, crouching in front of you to place the tip-end of his knife against your corseted chest as a warning.

You attempted a protest, but the makeshift gag made out of a torn piece of your skirts kept you virtually silent. Your wrists were burning, the rope around them scratching against your skin behind your back. The inn he’d taken you to for the night was damp and dirty, the floor you were tossed into reeking of piss and sour bourbon.

He had come for you again. You’d had some wistful doubt that he wouldn’t, but like always, he’d tracked you down as easily as hunters do footprints in thick snow. He’d followed your trail and bound you with that thick rope of braided hemp he always kept at his side. Evading him was never easy, but you thought you’d gotten away with it this time when you’d found a meager orphanage to cook at. He hated children—you thought he’d never set foot in the place, but reckoning had come for you in the early hours of the morning, with a dark shadow moving in the corner of the kitchens.

“You never fuckin’ learn. Maybe this time I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

The sharp point of his blade dug into your clothes, the cutting edge purposefully situated between featherbone channels so it could slice at cotton threads.

You swore against the cloth in your mouth, your curses soaking into the spit-damp fabric. He hooked a finger under the gag digging into your cheek, pulling at the material with a smirk.

“Got something to say, kid?”

Slowly, he pulled the torn cloth from your mouth, your head twisting to shake away strings of drool that had attached to the textile.

“Maybe I like the chase, Kenny,” you hissed out his name, not bothering with the Mr. Ackerman bullshit you’d called him at home.

He had once been a rather removed presence in your life; he was just that outlaw in the corner who did the terrible things the rich families in your town had the money but not the gall to do. But now he’d become the bane of your existence, the dark thread that always pulled you back into the oppressive home life you were running from. He never seemed to care. If anything, he seemed to take a sick joy in finding you quicker each time you snuck out and ran in a new, farther direction.

“So we’re on a first name basis now, huh? Good, cause we’re about to get real intimate.”

“You could make this real fun and actually untie me.”

“I’m not untying you, ain’t fucking happening. I didn’t spend weeks tracking down a stupid maiden for her daddy for you to run off into the woods the moment I turn my back to piss.”

You winced a little at his harsh words, still very aware of the cold steel carefully skating through the middle of your chest. The threads of your corset were popping and curling back toward the bone linings.

“I’m not some fragile maiden.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you ain’t, what you are is a big pain in my ass. I don’t get paid enough for this shit, so I’m takin’ what I’m owed.”

The reality of your situation settled in when you felt cool air sweep across your freshly exposed breasts. Your initial thought was to kick him, but when you felt him dig the blade a little too deep into the clothes at your belly, you hesitated. One wrong move and he could be slicing you open accidentally.

Your wrists pounded with lack of blood flow as you painstakingly tested the knots for slack again. Of course, there wasn’t any. He’d probably tied up hundreds of unfortunate souls in his miserable lifetime.

A thrill raced across your skin as you heard the knife clatter into the floor, Kenny peeling away the layers of split clothes on your body like he was prudently opening the petals of a rare flower.

“Well, well, look at you, kid.”

Grey eyes swirled with mirth and mischief under the brim of his hat, a wicked smile curling across bearded cheeks.

You felt vulnerable and far too hot, the heat of embarrassment licking over your chest, up your neck, burning at your ears. Worse, blazing excitement was pooling between your legs, the dull thump of pleasure beginning to pound in your head.

A calloused hand began to paw at the fat of your breast, testing the weight of it in his palm.

“You’re a fucking pervert.”

“Never said I ain’t.”

He flicked your nipple with his comment, chuckling as you gasped. The slight twinge of pain sent a jolt of lightning down your spine, making your fingers dig into the thick rope at your wrists and your head tilt back against the wall. Kenny repeated the motion, rubbing his warm thumb over your nipple before flicking it again. You sucked in a quick breath, making your lungs expand and breasts inch closer to his hands.

“You like that?” He teased, a finger tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.

“No.”

He laughed, “Liar. Your pretty nipples are harder than my cock.”

Kenny proved his point by cupping both your tits and making you moan, back arching toward him instead of away. Seeing the opportunity, he moved in closer, making the remnants of your skirts bunch around your hips as he pressed himself between your legs. You turned your face away from him when he dipped down to kiss you, making his wet lips and wiry beard press into the curve of your throat.

He sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, teeth and growls gently scraping against skin.

“What’s my pa going to think about you taking advantage of me like this?”

You knew you made a good point—unless Kenny had decided to pack some petticoats and powder into his saddle bags, he couldn’t cover up the carnage he was creating.

“I’m your daddy for tonight, kid. Maybe if you’re good I won’t even take you home this time.”

“Really?” You knew your voice portrayed your enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help it. You’d do anything to be free of your family and go make a life of your own.

Kenny took his time thinking over his response, too busy licking and sucking at the delicate column of your throat. It felt good, too good, even the scratch of his beard had you holding back whimpers. His long fingers were still groping your tits, thumbs rhythmically petting over your peaks.

You felt like you were engulfed in flames, like the hellfire and brimstone that bible-thumpers warned about were taking over your senses. All because of fucking Kenny Ackerman, the dirtiest old man you’d ever come across.

Though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined something like this before, it was hard not to when most of your time had been spent tied up on a saddle with him. The pervert always had the audacity to have his half-hard erection pressing into your lower back as you shifted on the smelly horse. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel to have him inside of you when the horse’s trot had his cock sliding too perfectly against your ass. You’d spent a few nights imagining how he would manhandle you, rough and impatient, and far more skilled than the boys you’d fooled around with.

Kenny was a dirty old man, but you had no doubt he could fulfill every naughty fantasy women like you weren’t supposed to dream about.

You shifted forward a bit, draping your thighs over his so you could get closer, press your aching core against that familiar stiffness in his trousers.

“I’ll be a good girl, daddy,” you let the name roll off your tongue as you tilted your face down to his, “I promise.”

You sealed your vow by pressing your mouth to his, a victorious frisson tingling at your nerves when he groaned into your lips. His kiss was rough, one of his hands snaking up to your neck with a vice-like grip to keep you from changing your mind. It made your vision go blurry behind your eyelids, grey spots dancing in the corners of your lashes. He tasted like booze and smoke, remnants of his addictions tainting your tongue. But you kept up with his pace, eager to show him that you would be good, that you wanted this, that you’d let him have you. Even if he did take you back home anyways, at least you’d get a thrilling fuck out of this arrangement.

“You ain’t never been a good girl,” he rumbled against your lips, “daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to behave.”

You gasped when he used his leverage on your neck to push you farther into the creaking boards of the wall. Your wrists were trapped between your back and the floor, going more numb by the second. He caged you in completely, had you sitting in his lap with his cock pressed against your damp drawers and one hand tangling into the mess of your skirts.

“Women and all their fucking clothes,” he snarled down at your half-dressed body. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reach back for the discarded blade, his other hand still content to press against the sides of your neck.

“W-wait, I don’t have anything else to wear!”

“You ain’t going to be needin’ em anyways, kid.”

Time slowed down like the creeping slush of molasses as you watched Kenny begin to slice through your dress and petticoat, each tug of his wrist sending cotton fibers spilling into the floor. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and sweat beading on the back of your neck every time the spine of the knife grazed the freshly exposed skin of your thighs. You struggled against the rope and the hand holding you back when he began to cut through the length of your drawers. The blade was too close to your intimate places, grazing against your sweltering flesh and making you whimper.

“I ain’t gonna cut you, darlin. As much as I wanna carve my name into your skin, I couldn’t stand hurtin’ you.”

You swallowed thickly and he must’ve felt it, his thumb petting at your neck like he was trying to soothe a scared animal. He stopped cutting at your clothing, lifting his pointed chin so he could look up into your face. He grinned, soft but still wolfish, wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Gimme a kiss, it’ll make you feel better.”

You complied, perhaps too happily, slanting your mouth against his and moaning at the rough feel of his black hairs against your cheeks.

Kenny ripped the rest of the threads from your body with his strong fingers, finishing the work that the knife had started. A weight was lifted off of you when your heavy skirts and the skeleton of your corset finally slipped into the floor to be forgotten. He took particular care in relieving you of your cotton drawers, the shadow of his hat obscuring his face as he marveled at the juncture of your thighs.

“Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and sloppy just for me.”

You cried out when he brushed a knuckle between your dripping folds, finger slowly uncurling so it could prod at your tight hole.

“You always get this wet when you’re around me?”

“Hard not to when you’re always groping me like some animal.”

His gaze flickered back up to you, the mixture of a frown and a smirk tugging at his lips. He pressed his palm more firmly against your windpipe, making you choke.

“Don’t know why I bothered to ungag your smart mouth.”

“I’ll be goo—” you didn’t have the chance to finish your plea, his long fingers uncurling from your neck only for two of them to abruptly slide past your open lips. Your eyes watered a bit from the thrusting motion of his digits and you could feel your moans vibrate against his skin. He started to push his fingers farther into your mouth, seeing how far he could go before your throat tightened, smirking the whole time. His skin tasted like rawhide and copper, like leather and blood, and you breathlessly traced your tongue along his slim knuckles.

“Your mouth looks better stuffed,” his other hand resumed teasing your lower lips, “Let’s see how many fingers you can take.”

You almost bit the knuckles in your mouth when he shoved his middle and index fingers into your tight cunt. You muffled out a squeal, eyes rolling shut when a wave of pleasure splashed over your body with the timing of his fingers pushing inside of you. He wasted no time in stretching you, spreading his strong fingers as he withdrew and pressed back inside of you over and over again.

Your tongue went still and flat in your mouth, spit pooling around slim fingers that still pressed farther back into your throat with every thrust of his hand between your legs. You could practically hear him grinning like a madman with both of his calloused hands pressing into two of your wet holes. You sucked around his fingers when he touched a sensitive, fleshy patch inside of you, fingers curling against your walls and stroking the spot repeatedly.

Weightless, you felt weightless in Kenny’s lap, like each thrust of his fingers into your mouth and pussy was sending you higher into the clouds. Even your own fingers had gone limp behind you, no longer clinging to their binds.

“Not bad, kid. How about another?”

You screamed around his hand when his ring finger stretched your opening wider, your pussy burning from its invasion. He laughed, a sadistic rumble from his chest that vibrated against your tits. At the feel of your cry, he pushed the fingers against your tongue even farther down to the back of your mouth, making you fight your gag reflex and sputter. Spit was falling from the corners of your mouth and you could feel your slick drooling down your thighs and onto his pumping wrist between your legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, picking up his already merciless pace, “daddy’s got a big cock, need you to be ready for it.”

Kenny groaned when you nodded your head, eyes fluttering open to catch his gaze. Some twisted pleasure brewed in your lower stomach as you noticed his lopsided grin, pearl white teeth bared over his full lips.

“I bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum. Think you can? Can you cum from an old man stuffin’ you full of fingers, darlin?”

You shivered at his words, your thighs shaking as you felt like you were being pulled apart. The three fingers inside of you knew exactly how to make your head go fuzzy and your nerves wild with pleasure, and it only got more intense when his thumb began to circle your already aching clit. You whimpered around his fingers, finding a momentary reprieve when he pulled them from your lips and admired the drool flowing over his knuckles. But he slid them back in after you caught a quick breath, pumping them at the same speed as the fingers buried into your cunt.

It was like you were brimming and boiling over with the taste and feel of Kenny. Your mind could barely keep up with the shots of ecstasy stemming from your belly, your toes curling against the cold floor, your wrists rubbed raw from rope. Your lower muscles were starting to clench, spasm, shake, and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re gettin’ tight. But I’ve got one more place to try.”

Your brows scrunched together when you felt his ring finger slip from your pussy, only to feel his slim pinky finger prod at the tight pucker of your ass.

“Kemmy, mf, umph,” you struggled to speak with his fingers stuffed in your mouth.

You finally bit against his skin when you felt the length of his smallest finger slither into your ass.

The new sensation rocked you, had you gasping and leaning forward and gagging on his fingers and cumming all at the same time. You screamed as you felt your asshole tighten around his digit, the pleasure of it sending you raring into bliss at full force like you’d just been slammed into a wall. It felt so fucking good, every hole stuffed with him, every muscle clenching and unclenching as he had the nerve to laugh at how easily you came from feeling a finger in your ass.

“Heh, seems you like that, don’tcha?” He let you ride out the remnants of your orgasm for a few moments, fingers still and just feeling you contract around him.

Finally, he worked on setting you free of his hold. He took his time with it, each finger sliding out of you painfully slow like he was slowly uncorking a pent-up bottle of champagne. With your mouth free first, you took your time breathing and gathering your wits, looking down into the floor as shame crept over your body. It was all so nasty and dirty, and when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs, you knew all you wanted was more of it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, surprised when he lifted your chin and placed a rather chaste kiss against your messy mouth.

“I take it you’ve never had somethin’ in your ass?”

“N-no, but it…”

“Feels good, yeah?”

You shot him a suspicious look, “How would you know?”

“I’ve been around, kid.”

Kenny groaned as he sat back, moving you off his lap.

“My knees are too fucking old for this. Get on the bed.”

You didn’t know how you could. Your legs felt like pudding and your hands were completely numb behind your back. Kenny walked to the corner of the small bedroom, pulling his suspenders down so he could toss his shirt into the floor. You struggled to move, eyeing the knife in the floor carefully so you didn’t accidentally cut yourself as you fumbled like a little fawn gaining her legs.

You enjoyed the feel of standing for a moment, leaning back against the wall in all your sloppy nakedness as you watched Kenny dip his hands into the wash bin.

This was the last thing you expected when you woke up this morning. You’d been free, ready to get started on a cornbread and bean breakfast, only to be kidnapped before you could even lace up your shoes. Now you were watching Kenny Ackerman get undressed and hang that signature bowler hat on the back of the door.

He looked better without the hat. In fact, he looked so much better naked.

He had sun kissed skin on his arms and neck from working in the sun, lean sinews of muscle carved over his chest, his thighs. He was dusted in wiry black hair, like someone had taken ash from a fire and doused him in it. And his cock was hard and proud between his legs, long and curved up toward his stomach. Your ego spiked at the thought that you’d made him that way; you were the reason his swollen head was leaking and twitching.

“Can I touch you now?”

“What?” He looked puzzled, running a hand through his dark, shoulder length hair. It looked longer than when you last saw him.

You moved toward him on still shaky legs, making a show of pulling at your hands bound behind your back.

“Shit, I forgot you were tied up. But you gotta promise me when I cut you loose you ain’t just gonna sprint out that door.”

“I don’t have any clothes, Kenny.”

He laughed genuinely at that, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d have to remedy that tomorrow, go out and buy you something to wear so he didn’t parade you around town naked as the day you were born.

You stayed still as he reached for that big knife of his on the floor, settling up behind you to start gnawing the blade through the thick rope. Your shoulders felt at ease when you felt the slack begin to set into your binds, the last bit of hemp audibly slicing away. You pulled your hands in front of you, immediately rubbing at the raw spots on your wrists. They’d be bruised tomorrow, scab over by the next day.

Kenny wrapped his arms around you from behind, hands first skimming over your shoulders and upper arms.

“If you didn’t have such a bad habit of runnin’, I wouldn’t have to do that to you, kid.”

“You’d run away if you had my life, too.”

You knew you didn’t need to fill in the blanks for him. He’d been around long enough to know the ins and outs of your story.

“Suppose I would.”

He kissed your neck as he walked you to the bed, turning you around so he could crawl up the naked expanse of your body as you laid back against the hay stuffed mattress.

“Someone as pretty as you don’t deserve someone like me chasin’ after you.” But his confession didn’t stop him from settling between your thighs and bending down to suck one of your nipples into his eager mouth. You moaned, elated to have your hands free so you could tangle your fingers into his long hair.

“I told you,” you gasped when he bit into your skin hard enough to leave marks, “I like the chase.”

He licked a long, hot stripe between the valley of your breasts before bringing his face back to yours. You kept your hands in his hair as he leaned down to kiss you, all brute force and greedy tongue like you’d gotten used to before. You were just as hungry for him, your body feeling fresh and ripe after your orgasm and ready to be filled again. You bit at his lower lip, smirking when you got a reaction from him. Your tongue began to map the insides of his mouth, letting the taste of him overwhelm you.

Kenny was impatient, gripping your hips and spreading you apart again.

“I like you better when you’re submissive.” He murmured into your mouth, skilled fingers spreading your pussy so the fat head of his cock could rub against you.

“I said I would be a good girl, daddy.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan, “I can’t fucking handle you calling me that, kid.”

“Oh yeah? Is me calling you daddy going to make you cream early, old man?”

He slid his cock inside of you rough and fast to shut you up. Your head fell farther back against the pillow as you mewled, his fingers still having not prepared you for the feel of his stretching you open. Your walls were snug against him; you could feel every throbbing vein under his silken skin dragging against your insides as he pulled out and pushed into you slowly.

Each thrust had euphoria blooming from your stomach and spreading across all your extremities. It was like you could suddenly feel everything, the pleasure making the world around you sharpen. Kenny was breathing hotly into your neck, your nipples were painfully hard and sliding against the dark, downy hairs of his chest. Your fingers were coming back to life, your nails scraping against the greyed roots of his hair. Your toes were curling in the air, your thighs and hips burning from bearing the heaviness of Kenny between them. Both your heart and his were beating fast, blood pumping as if in the same drumline together.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he drawled, “s-so fucking soft, so tight.”

Little sounds were leaving your parted lips, eyes struggling to stay open as each plunge of Kenny’s cock was engulfing you with ecstasy. He was starting to get a bit punishing with his movements, moving hard and fast inside of you and making you forget yourself. His nails were biting into the fatty flesh of your hips, where half-moon marks would surely adorn your skin in the morning. You’d have hickies on your neck too, especially now as he sunk his teeth into the tender spot where your throat met your shoulder.

God it felt good to be used, to be wanted. And you knew Kenny wanted you, he’d even said he wanted to carve his name into your skin. Something inside of you told you that he’d want to own you, if you’d let him. You caught a lot of his longing gazes before, whether in the back of the saloon he frequented or the ridiculous dance halls your family drug you to. You’d often wondered if he would fuck you against a wall if you tempted him to, and now you had your long-awaited answer.

“Oh daddy,” you purred, both purposely and not, little oh’s and mhm’s following behind.

The name spurred Kenny into a new gait. He shifted back onto his knees swiftly, the same hand from before resuming its chokehold on your neck. You moaned at the familiar contact, the sound trapped behind his spread fingers. He had more power behind his hips from this angle, sending his cock deeper into your depths and into places his long fingers couldn’t reach from before. Your eyes squeezed shut, tiny gasps all that could be formed behind the wall of his hand.

“Who knew you were such a little slut, darlin. Might keep you around after all.”

Your tits were bouncing in rhythm with his relentless assault, your hands now fisting into the feather pillow next to your face.

“F-fucking shit, I—” you were going stupid, is what you were. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your brain felt foggy in your head.

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on ya,” Kenny put more pressure behind the fist around your neck, the lack of oxygen making it even harder to think than before, “you really do need a daddy to teach you some, fuck, s-some fucking manners.”

All you could do was nod, completely lost to the feeling of him encompassing you, filling you.

His free hand pulled at one of your limp legs, hoisting it up and over his shoulder. He smothered your skin with wet kisses, nipping at your ankle and chuckling when he felt the bubbled squeal beneath his palm. The hair on his torso tickled the back of your thigh, adding a new layer of sensation that you didn’t think you could handle. It was too much—Kenny was too much, fucking into you like a feral beast that just got his first taste of sweet flesh.

“You’re never gettin’ away from me again,” he hissed out between gritted teeth, “you’re mine now.”

You couldn’t think to respond. Kenny unwrapped his hand from your throat, letting that blood flow return to your head.

“You hear me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All you could focus on was the drumming of his cock hitting your insides, the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy sucking him in.

The sound of him slapping his hand across your check registered before the pain did. You gasped as your head swung with the force, the side of your face smarting with a throbbing sting.

“Say you’re mine, kid.” Seriousness laced his tone, those dangerous, long fingers grasping at your jaw and pulling you to look at him. He leaned forward, curling your leg with him, making you groan at the pleasure and pain mixing as he tested your flexibility. He kept moving inside of you, pace never faltering.

“Fucking. Say. It.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline, a strange concoction of fear and bliss spreading over your consciousness.

“Y-yours,” you croaked out, wetting your lips with your tongue, “I’m yours, Kenny!”

You didn’t mean to scream it, but it seemed to please him, that lecherous grin of his spreading over his lips.

“That’s fucking right. I own this tight, pretty little pussy.”

He released your jaw only to slap you again, quicker and softer this time, and you moaned the moment he made contact.

“You like getting slapped around?”

You turned your face back to him, smirking through the sting, “yes, daddy.”

The devilishness that swirled in his eyes made your stomach flip. He paused the movements of his hips, letting your cunt flutter and clench at his stilled cock. Your breathing picked up as you registered what was about to happen.

Kenny hit you with the back of his hand this time, bony knuckles thumping with the quick flick of his wrist. Without his cock moving inside of you, all you could do was bask in the stinging pain left behind on your cheeks. It felt so wrong, but it made the coil in your belly tighten like never before.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, your balled fists releasing the pillow.

Without a second thought, you grabbed at his hair, jerking him down to meet your mouth.

“You better cum inside me after that, daddy, I think I deserve it.”

“Oh, you deserve it darlin,” he started pumping inside of you again, sending your head flying back and his mouth landing on the pulse of your neck, “gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His movements were cruel, fast, cock ramming inside of you so harshly that you felt it all the way in your throat. Your hand slipped from his hair and found purchase on his back, nails scraping against sweaty flesh. You could feel his rough skin splitting, but you didn’t care, all that mattered anymore was the way his cock slid in between your gummy walls, the way he was moaning your name like a fucking prayer against your skin.

Kenny’s thumb found your clit, swirling quick, brutal circles over your swollen bud. You could feel yourself clench around him, the sharp pleasure almost painful. You were going to explode. You were going to topple over in ecstasy and it was all because of the wickedness of the dirty old man inside of you.

“K-Kenny, holy f-fucking god, I-I—”

He must have felt it before you did. Hot ropes of cum were seeping inside of you the moment you hit the high point of orgasm. Your nails slid down the entirety of his back, slim, warm rivulets of blood following in their wake.

It was like the bliss never ended. You were caught in the waves of it, each one cresting and falling over and over again as you milked his cock dry, slick and cum pooling between your thighs and soaking the linens.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Kenny placed a delicate hand between your breasts, like he was trying to slow it down for you. His small act made the world narrow in around you; the remnants of stinging pain and excruciating pleasure still hummed, but you fell into the quiet of just listening to the two of you breath for a few moments.

Eventually, your toes went numb. You’d fully forgotten the poor leg that had been curled over his shoulder. You shifted to move, and Kenny got the hint, finally pulling his spent cock from inside of you and rolling over on his back.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, hand reaching over his shoulder as he met the mattress, “you’ve got fucking claws.”

You had half a mind to apologize, but you didn’t bother, still basking in the afterglow of sex. Your body was tired, wrists still aching, thighs shaking.

“You alright?” A warm hand found your cheek, even hotter lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss.

“Mhm, more than alright.”

“Didn’t know you had that in you, kid.”

Kenny pulled you into his chest, long arm curling around your back. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns on your hip, and you nearly shuddered as you remembered those were the same movements he’d used to abuse your clit. You curled one of your legs over his, needing to get closer, those pesky after-sex hormones and needs clawing at your instincts.

It felt oddly like home to be pressed up against him, your face against his chest, one of your hands mimicking his and drawing circling in his damp chest hair. He smelled like home, anyways, like earth and spices.

“You gonna take me home?”

He was quiet for a second, pressing his lips into your hairline.

“Nah, I’ll take you someplace safe. Maybe buy you a fucking train ticket so you can get out of this part of the world.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep me?”

“Now don’t fucking tempt me with that, kid.”

“I wouldn’t mind being yours, you know.”

“You don’t wanna be mine, even if I make you say that shit when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You knew he was right, but you didn’t offer him an affirmation.

Maybe you’d let him fuck you for a few more days before you ventured off on your own, maybe you’d convince him to chase you down a few more times just for the thrill of it. Maybe you’d wrap your fists around his suspenders and convince him to run away with you.

You did like Kenny, after all. Even if he was such a perverted, disgusting old man.

#kenny ackerman #snk kenny #kenny Ackerman x reader #kenny Ackerman fanfic #aot fanfic #smut pile collab #snk fanfic #attack on titan kenny #aot kenny #kenny x reader #kenny ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

eyeliner. [xiao & zhongli]

prompt: “i saw that ask about the liyue characters and their eye makeup and it just made me think... what would xiao and zhongli's reactions be if their s/o asked them to help apply it on themselves ;-; it seems to be an adepti or just really old liyuean tradition which is so cool” as requested by anon pairing: xiao x gn!reader, zhongli x gn!reader word count: 1.1k a/n: haven’t written for zhongli in 20 trillion years,,, uhhhh,,,, thank u for the request though !! was fun to write even if this took me a... strangely long time to complete

XIAO

"xiao," you singsong, leaning over to your lover and bumping shoulders with him gently. "remember our deal?"

upon your words, xiao's amber irises move to look at you out of the corner of his eye, typical stoic expression dropping into an unamused frown.

"i remember no such agreement," the adeptus says, folding his arms over his chest and turning to look at you, his gaze piercing into yours. "i do not see why you are so insistent on partaking in an adepti tradition." his viridescent hair ruffles slightly in presence of the breeze of the open window in your shared room at wangshu inn.

you let out a soft huff of air. "it's makeup! i didn't know it was a crime to want to match with my-" you pause and narrow your eyes at xiao, which causes him to narrow his eyes as well. "wait. if you don't remember the agreement, why did you know exactly what i was talking about?"

xiao stares at you silently, mulling over your words. "mortal minds tend to forget things. i was hoping maybe this would slip your mind as well." his words are brutally harsh, yet you can see faint amusement swirling in the vibrant eyes you had come to adore. the adeptus leans in closer to you. "however, if you do wish for me to keep up my end of the contract, i believe i can fulfill my duty."

his words are sharply edged, yet beyond the blades of his terse tone lies a soft affection reserved only for you, stuffing woven from the threads of love that cushion his words and let you know that he means no ill will despite his characteristically sharp tone. the adeptus reaches over and interlaces his hand in your own, giving your hand a gentle squeeze once it's secured in his grasp.

"i normally believe mortals should refrain from interfering in adepti affairs," xiao begins and you let out a soft sigh at your hopes being crushed by your lover once more. "however, you are unlike any other mortal."

"how so?" you ask, gaze flicking to your interlocked hands. xiao lets out a gentle laugh at the naivety of your expression, a noise that only you have been allowed to hear fall from his lips.

"i love you," xiao states. his words are blunt, but you adore him for it. xiao has never been one to beat around the bush and his startlingly candid declarations of his emotions towards you have never failed to make your face flush with heat or failed to make your heart beat faster. a slight smug smirk appears on his face as he watches your eyes widen at the three little words, but the smile quickly falls from his face as you utter your next words.

"so does that mean you'll do my makeup?" you blurt, stumbling over your words.

"if you wish to match so much... i guess i can. come here." xiao insists, pulling your hand in his as he guides you over to the bathroom before hoisting you up so you can sit on the counter while he does your makeup. with you sitting on the high countertop, you tower over his figure, yet you can't help but feel small as he positions himself between your legs and leans in close with a makeup brush in hand, a knowing smirk gracing his perfectly crafted features.

"close your eyes," he murmurs and you do, electing to let him paint you in a style that marks you as none other than his lover.

ZHONGLI

"you wish for me to assist in your makeup application?"

zhongli's voice is a soft rumble, a quieted and affectionate tone reserved for only when the two of you are alone together. an uncharacteristic look of trepidation crosses his face after the words fall from his lips, yet his question lacks any form of judgment. nervousness makes itself apparent in the furrow of his eyebrows, but your reassuring grin causes the furrows to soften as you hold up a bag that is all-too-familiar to the ex-archon.

"actually," you begin slowly, hesitant to voice your request. "i was hoping you could do your typical look on me... but only if that's okay with you!"

you watch his honeyed hues widen slightly in surprise, cheeks flushing with a faint pink hue that disappears far too soon for your liking. zhongli quickly recovers, rewarding your proposal with a slight smirk as adoration seeps into his alluring golden irises, illuminating them with the soft warmth of love. he clears his throat slightly, trying to save face from his break in composure.

"of course, darling," zhongli responds, gently closing the book in his hands and setting it to the side. "i would love to do so. after all, such a makeup look originates from the goddess of dust herself, guizhong, and has been used by the adepti for centuries. upon taking this form, i elected to take this look due to the rich history behind both the choice of pigment and positioning of the eyeshadow..."

as he rambles on, you softly pad over to him, placing the required materials in his hands and sitting down in the seat next to him. you eagerly scoot over as he drones on and you can't help yourself from grinning widely at your lover, whose passionate and deeply-voiced words encompass you in a comforting and reliable hug. zhongli's unfocused eyes suddenly focus upon your own and his voice trailed off before another nervous dusting of rosy coloring coats his cheeks once more.

"ah, forgive me, was i rambling yet again?" he asks and you shake your head in response.

"no, i was listening to every word, i promise." you insist and his eyes narrow at your blatant lie.

"oh really?" zhongli's words are laced with amusement. "what was the last thing i said?"

"ah," you pause and zhongli's entertained smirk slightly upon realizing that you've been caught in your bald-faced lie. "i was just thinking about how lovely your eyeliner is, that's all."

"is that so?" zhongli muses, leaning in close, eyeliner perched like a pencil between his fingertips. "then i hope i don't disappoint."

"no," you breathe as his hand rests itself along the side of your face, cold eyeliner meeting your skin as he lightly glides the pigment across your undereye. "i don't think you ever could."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #zhongli #xiao #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #not me opening this document 5 times the last few days and just staring at the zhongli section #feels weird to write him lmaopdkadkosodss #but i got it done !!!! yay

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readerxlovestay · 3 years

Text

Fenrys x Reader

Part 2

Part 1

Summary: You and Fenrys are goaded into going on a vacation/double date with Aelin and Rowan. After a game of beach ball, she reveals that it was her who had set up both of you. Just a fun imagine with all of our favourite characters.

Ref: y/n - your name

Tw: none

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive

A/n: This was such a fun one to write! And I have written it as the part 2 of the Nightmare imagine (right here - Part 1) which totally fit right in. I hope you guys like it too! Oh and in the last imagine, the reader regarded Aelin as the Queen and in this, I've made them like best friends just so it'll be even more enjoyable! I think this is one of my good ones (even if I say so myself;) Follow me if you like content like this! Bye! Xoxo❤️

Summertime and Sunshine ((A day with Aelin & Rowan))

You shielded your eyes from the glaring sun above. It was a particularly hot day in summer. Which was perfect, you decided as you stepped out of your clothes onto the soft sand. Goosebumps prickled along the length of your arms. Fenrys whistled under his breath.

The one-piece you wore clung to every inch of your damp skin, exposing each curve and shape of your body. Hi sexy, came his voice through the bond. Don't I already know that. You smirked at him. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation. Sassy today, aren't we?

Padding over to him, you tilted your head up. "Keep up with me then" He looked speechless for a moment before his lips caught yours in a heated kiss, the one that made yourself want to jump on top of him and taste him all over. He pulled you close, erasing any distance between you both, while his tongue did wonders in your mouth. You sighed against the warmth of him. He tasted divine like honeyed wine. His callused hands gripped you hard against his muscled body, roving all over your needy form.

Before any of you could get any more provocative, Aelin called you from under the hood of the canopy in the distance. "Hey lovebirds save some for later!" The sound of Rowan's laughter could be heard from beside Aelin, where she sat on a blanket on the sand before the sparkling waters. You broke apart, smiling sheepishly.

Your mate leaned his forehead on yours. "Gods, you're beautiful", he breathed. You slid your hands away from his sculpted body. "So are you", you grinned while pulling him away from the shade of the house both of you stood by. He threaded his fingers through your hand in a habit of practice. You absolutely loved the feeling of his hand holding yours, safe and warm.

Aelin smirked when she saw both of you approaching. "Looks like swimsuit is doing what you exactly wanted it to do" You flushed to the roots of your hair, but mumbled something about how it wasn't just you and Fenrys who wanted everyone nearby to either cover their eyes or ears all the time. She laughed. "I agree that Rowan and I can be vocal sometimes but it's not like we're the newly mated here" She eyed Rowan who was sprawled on the sand, head on her lap. You grimaced as you sat down beside her. "I know" "It's going to be like that for atleast a month Y/n, there's no need to be embarrassed about it" She tapped your cheek. "Honestly, you're both so cute together, who would've known" You glanced at your mate, who tilted his head.

"Are you sure it wasn't just you playing matchmaker?", Fen asked, drawing patterns on your hand. "Cause the situation seems a little too easy if we think about it" You nodded along with him. "What was the probability of us going to deliver a letter to Suria and the only inn we found was crowded to the fullest?"

Aelin feigned innocence. "I don't very well control the weather you know"

"Yes but it was you who sent both of us on that mission, and if I'm not mistaken, you were the most excited when we announced our bond", you exclaimed.

She even looked shocked. "Am I not even allowed to feel happy for my friends?!"

You looked at Rowan. "You don't have say in this?" He shrugged looking bored "I think it was just a coincidence which ended in something happy" You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Coincidence, sure" He grinned back at you. Shaking your head, you turned to Aelin. "And top of all that, it was your idea for this vacation/double date" She smiled devilishly. "Fun isn't it?"

It was indeed Aelin who suggested the idea. Your mind opened a memory from a month ago.

"I have a mate", was your first words to Aelin when you returned. "And it's Fenrys" She looked surprised at first, then happy. "Oh my God congrats!" She proceeded to embrace you. You hugged her back. "Tell me all about it", she commanded, grinning. You chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Well there was this place..." You told her about the one room tragic and how it turned into something good. However you left out the part where Fenrys was under the throes of his nightmare. It somehow felt very personal and like a secret between the two of you. Instead you told her it was YOU who had a nightmare and was comforted by Fenrys. She listened closely to each and every word you said and jumped at the part where you kissed him. "That's so sweet" You nodded. "Yeah and then after sending out the message, here we are"

Aelin's eyes twinkled. For someone who was the Queen of all Fae, she sure was a good girl friend when it came to the matters of males and lovers. You had always came to her when you had problems with feelings or anything with boys. She had always been the sister you longed to have. "So now what?" You asked her, already knowing she had a plan in her head. She looked at you with that villainous smile. "Now we go on a double date"

It was almost like she was waiting for it to happen. And now here you all were, at the summerhouse, having the most fun you'll ever have. It wasn't a bad idea, just a suspicious one coming from Aelin. She was the most dedicated Queen and though you know she totally would've went on a vacation after all these years, she didn't. And now that you had a mate, she was suddenly super interested in a double date for atleast a couple of days. It was like, as if she was waiting for this moment where you had a mate or atleast someone that she already knew.

"What are you thinking about babe?" You came to reality with a shake of your head. "Hm?" Fenrys combed his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back just a bit, to kiss your forehead. "You're having this look which usually means you're thinking of something intriguing" You laugh at his predicament. "Well I'm planning how Aelin and Rowan's defeat is going to be when we play beach ball later"

Aelin looked up from where she was lying down with Rowan in her shimmering gold bikini. "You think so?" You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "I know so" She got up on her elbows. "What are the stakes?" You tilt you head ever so slightly. "Winners get the house for the entire night" Fenrys paused in his running his hand through you hair. "And the losers?" "Gets the outside with the soft, soft sand" Aelin chuckled rising up. "Hear that Rowan? Losers get the sand, I think Y/n and Fenrys should look more into how to stay warm on the sand" Rowan winked. "We could give you a few pointers if you'd like" Your mate pulled you up with him. "Let's see who gets what tonight", you say to them both. "It's on" Fenrys grinned.

-time skip-

Even though Aelin and Rowan had the upper hand, you and Fenrys played equally hard. Finally when afternoon hit and everyone was sweaty and laughing, it was declared that you and your mate were the winners. Aelin tried to scowl but ended up chuckling. "Good game", she exclaimed, giving you and Fen a high five.

"Since you claimed you had more experience of staying out in the sand with Rowan, its only fitting you both are the losers", Fenrys said laughing. You laughed with him. "That's true"

Aelin, however, was more concerned. "Haha it was a joke wasn't it? You are not really going to let us sleep outside in the cold, 'cause I hate the cold, you know that!" You smile wickedly just like her.

"Uh oh that's not good"

You flip your hair to one side of your neck, exposing the other side to the warm breeze. "Well I just might let you stay outside, but I can revoke it ONLY-" She looked at you expectantly. "-If you admit the truth that you set us up" She groaned. "Really? Am I that obvious?" You raised an eyebrow. "It was you" She put her hands on her hips. "Ugh yes. It was a hunch and I wanted to test it out" You grinned. "That wasn't so bad after all" She rolled her eyes. "Obviously" Still grinning, you put your arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards the summerhouse. "Don't be cranky now, you can have the house all you want" She shook her head but let you pull her along.

Fenrys and Rowan entered the house talking about the game, laughing and slapping each other's backs. You stopped Aelin in the doorway. She looked at you quizzically.

"Thank you Aelin. For whatever it's worth, you did us both a favour by sending us there" She smiled warmly. "Of course Y/n. Just don't forget to love him, that's all I want"

"With all my heart"

#dorian havilliard #tog #tog x reader #acosf #aedion ashryver #azriel #dorian x reader #rowan whitethorn #kaz brekker #six of crows #aelin galanthynius #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #reader x fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #nessian #throne of glass

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

Text

The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)

A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.

TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour

Word Count: 2.7k

Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.

You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.

Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.

Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.

“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.

“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.

In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.

“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.

“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”

“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.

“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.

“Don…”

“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”

“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”

“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.

“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.

You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.

“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.

“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.

“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.

“Well (y/n) … you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”

“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”

“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.

“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”

“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.

“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”

“You… you threatened them all, you…”

“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”

“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”

“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”

“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.

“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…

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theworldbrewery · 3 years

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over our last two sessions, I ran something a little different. Our cleric, Oggie, has a (complicated) relationship with this NPC, Elliot. Elliot is a gay half-elf man whose father is a politician and diplomat; Elliot’s father has decided that since Elliot has a criminal record (he was framed for treason) the best way to ensure he is provided for is to marry him off to another political family, neatly tucking him away where he can’t cause a scandal.

Now, his father isn’t too interested in Elliot’s desire for romance or attraction, so he’s arranged a marriage with a young woman from a prominent elven family. The party quickly decided that this cannot stand. They agreed to attend the wedding in order to prevent it from happening.

Upon arrival at the venue, however, a few key things were going to pop off. First, it turns out Oggie’s estranged family lives in the town. Second, the whole region is deeply haunted and extremely sinister. Third, messing up the bride’s life was a non-option, because when I introduced the character of the bride, a friend of ours came out of the bedroom where I’d stashed them and introduced themself as Gloria, the bride herself (an air genasi monk in a family of elves, another outsider).

this was already clearly a rousing success, but we still had to get through the wedding, and I had to run it in a way that felt dynamic and tense. People go from room to room and building to building, indoors and outdoors and making visits to the village. It’s the day of a wedding!

So I developed a method for running the Day of the Wedding, and I’m sharing it with you for any extended roleplay and intrigue encounters you want to tangle up in plot threads.

First things first: run it like a combat.

What I mean by that is when the party woke up on the day of the wedding, I asked them all to roll for initiative. Instead of a round taking six seconds, each round lasted one hour, enough time for a movement (go to 2 areas near one another or 1 place that’s a bit further away), an action (a primary roleplay scene or investigation), and a bonus action (a conversation with a fellow player character, a quick search of an area, etc.). As the DM, use your discretion to decide what constitutes a suitable bonus action vs action.

Now, unlike combat, this type of encounter should permit player characters to team up and act together. When a PC that is high in initiative order decides to do something, other PCs that rolled lower can opt to join them if they want to act in the same location or engage with the same NPCs. (This is a great option to keep the action moving and lets players work together more.)

In order to keep this situation rolling, I prepared a few key notes. I focused on regional effects; that is, the overall culture and vibe of the area. I decided early on that the region is haunted, and that the locals are suspicious, superstitious, and obsessed with cleanliness. These features are tied into the overall plot conflicts that would develop over time. I also chose to include the effects of the Haunted table from Tasha’s Cauldron to add some spiciness to my haunting. In essence, think of the tensions the NPCs in the region are already experiencing prior to the party getting involved. A recent assassination might make a court intrigue more complicated as they now distrust strangers, for instance, while a new trade war over tariffs can complicate a diplomatic mission.

Next, I considered my locations. In this instance, my locations included the inn where the party slept, various rooms in the manor house hosting the wedding, a handful of outdoor areas, and the chapel. I focused on creating detailed descriptions of the ambiance for each location.

Then, I wrote out a quick description of each major NPC - in this case, the wedding party, the family of the intended, and a few locals and guests. In a roleplay/intrigue scenario like this, it’s vital to include motivations, secrets, and goals for each of these NPCs, even if those goals are very simple. You’ll need them for the last step:

Create a round-by-round timeline. Write out your list of locations and pair them with the NPCs that will be there during each round (hour). In my notes, I added what the NPC was doing there or what they were thinking about--linking their motivation to their location. For example, a character in the garden was leaving an early-morning meeting with her lover, the new gardener, while the fathers of the bride and groom met in the library to discuss the cover-up they had just pulled off (a politician and wedding guest had died mysteriously at midnight, and to keep the wedding from being derailed, they had hidden the body and were intimidating the only witness).

Party members who arrived at each location were therefore entering existing scenes they didn’t have full context for. Each hour, the NPCs would move on to the next phase of their day, seek out other NPCs to interact with, etc. NPCs could still be influenced by the party’s actions, so each round you might adjust exactly what they’re doing or where they’ve gone--the beauty of improv!

Keep in mind that situations should still be developing when the party isn’t witnessing them. An NPC no one had spoken to yet turned out to have spent the morning searching for her missing father, which led the party to the gravesite that they’d spotted earlier in the game, while the gardener turned out to be a villain they’d met before who was acting in secret during the session! Use your best judgment, though. Just because you wrote content for an NPC doesn’t mean the party will engage with it, so follow their lead; sprinkle the clues, and then let the party’s focus drive which storylines get developed.

So long as every NPC has a goal or secret to influence their opinions and decisions, they will feel like nuanced actors within the roleplay scenario; the timeline you lay out in advance gives them a sort of “Artificial Intelligence” that can be influenced by the player’s actions.

Personally, I also recommend setting a natural deadline for the party. If my players didn’t stop the wedding by 1pm, for instance, the ceremony would go forward and they would either be forced to object in public or let the marriage take place. Thus, they only had 5 total “rounds” to disrupt things enough that the wedding would be called off.

You can create similar deadlines depending on the central goal of the party. A vote on whether to pass a controversial law could serve as one for a court intrigue arc, while a crime-solving arc might have a threatened time when a kidnapping victim will be murdered (”You have 24 hours to deliver the ransom”, for example). The sense of a ticking time-bomb gives the players a much-needed urgency. The round-by-round timeline also helps to ensure that you won’t have to continue prepping rounds ad infinitum; instead, you need only prepare up until shit pops off and the deadline is reached.

You may find you won’t reach the deadline, though. In this arc, the party discovered the corpse of a major politician who had died in the night and was secretly buried by the gardener. They used the cover-up as leverage to blackmail the parents of the bride and groom into calling off the marriage, which was helped along by the ranger revealing that Elliot’s father was concealing Elliot’s criminal record to keep the marriage arrangement intact. They managed to prevent the wedding with an hour to spare.

However, as Alice the sorcerer went downstairs to announce the cancellation, she spotted a person who looked just like her weaving through the crowd to leave the manor. She followed, and discovered that she was tracking the semi-villainous NPC who had crossed paths with the party a few times before, disguised as Alice. The NPC, Florian, had been playing the role of the gardener, and blackmailed the bride’s father into giving up a precious family heirloom in exchange for concealing the body; now that the cover-up has been revealed, they’re getting out of Dodge with their prize. This revelation serves as the plot hook for the next dungeon!

#dm tips #dm advice #rpgs #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #roleplay #actual play

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ophelia-writes · 3 years

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fragile - xiao x reader

warnings: mild language

being one of the most prominent young designers in teyvat meant that you were on the road constantly. by now, you were used to it, of course— you had found a temporary “home” in every region that you visited. that way, if you ever had to come back, you would at least have some sort of familiarity. it just so happened that one of those homes was wangshu inn.

due to liyue being the city of commerce, you found yourself having to travel there a lot, be it for business meetings, selling your works at festivals, or even the occasional commission from some of liyue’s most affluent families. at this point you were on a first-name basis with the inn’s owner, verr goldet, and you stayed in the same room every time. you liked it there. it was quiet and peaceful, and the golden light of dihua marsh made for a surprisingly inspiring atmosphere, so you usually ended up getting some extra work done. however, tonight was one of those nights when inspiration just refused to strike.

you quietly climbed the stairs to the upper balcony, the wood floors sending a cold shock to your bare feet. you hoped that a bit of cool night air would get your ideas flowing. but when you got there, it seemed the balcony was already occupied.

leaning with his back facing you stood a slender man— a boy, even— the wind gently tussling his turquoise hair. you froze, unsure of whether you should leave and look for another spot. however, before you could turn around and make a graceful exit, the man turned around, his intense amber eyes locking with yours.

“what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quiet and disinterested. you stood there, gaping. there was no need to be rude! you were a guest of the inn, after all, and you just as much of a right to be there as he did.

“if you must know,” you began, folding your arms, “i needed a little fresh air. but i don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

the man scoffed. “you mortals have no respect for the adepti.”

wait, the adepti?? as in, the protectors of liyue? you thought those were only a legend. surely this asshole couldn’t be…

whatever, it didn’t matter anyway. you weren’t from liyue in the first place, so you didn’t really owe this guy anything, adeptus or not. “hm, is that so,” you replied sarcastically, setting your materials down on the balcony floor. “maybe we ‘mortals’ just have bigger problems to deal with than appeasing the egos of some hypothetical wannabe archons.” you heard the man make an indignant sound, clearly offended by your words. but you never look up from your work.

the so-called adeptus cast you a glance, watching your delicate artisan’s fingers sweep over the fabric with an elegance that he would never expect. how could someone with such a sharp tongue be so gentle with their work?

when you caught him staring, he quickly looked away, a tint of rose dusting his cheeks. “what is it, mr. adeptus? want me to make you a pretty dress too?” you teased, although you were only half joking. he would actually look pretty good in a dress.

“of course not, i—” he cut himself off, an annoyed look in his eyes. “i was simply surprised by how fragile you are.”

you dropped your needle and thread, leveling him with a deadly glare. “how what i am?” you asked incredulously, rising to your feet. “you’re the fragile one, what with your delicate ego and all.”

the adeptus crossed his arms, staring stubbornly out at the marsh below. “i don’t know why i’m even entertaining this conversation,” he said after a moment of silence. this time, his words weren’t laced with malice— honestly, he sounded rather defeated. you wondered if perhaps you had gone too far with the adepti slander. you were a bit of a diva these days, as your friends were prone to telling you. maybe coming to liyue and insulting their beloved guardians wasn’t such a great idea.

“hey, i’m sorry.” you leaned against the railing beside him, your height nearly level with his. you weren’t a particularly tall person, but for so reason you just never expected someone of his demeanor to be so… small.

so fragile, as he so kindly put it.

he let out a grunt of some kind, and you assumed that meant that he wasn’t really interested in saying anything else. “you know, if you really are an adeptus, then i guess meeting you was kind of lucky, right?” you said, almost more to yourself than to him. “i mean, some people spend their whole lives trying to seek audiences with the adepti, and here i just happened to stumble upon one during my midnight stroll. it’s kinda funny.”

you stood there in an awkward silence, not sure if he would ever respond. he did say that he was done entertaining the conversation, but still… you sighed, letting the breeze rustle your hair as you watched the peak of the sun start to rise over dihua marsh. it seemed that the two of you had been out there all night.

“look, i don’t expect us to be besties or anything, but could you at least tell me your name? it feels weird, having nothing to call you but ‘’mr. adeptus.’” you turned to look at him and saw the fresh sunlight glinting in his eyes, giving them a sparkle that they didn’t have before. he looked down, a small sigh escaping his lips.

“xiao,” he said quietly.

you can’t help but smile, somewhat pleased with yourself for getting him to give you any sort of personal information. “hmm… xiao,” you repeated, turning your gaze back to the mottled sky.

so the two of you watched the sunrise in silence, both so unbelievable fragile, yet so deceptively strong.

thank you for reading! if i’m being honest, i don’t usually plan things out before i write them, i just kinda have a general vibe or idea and then just kinda see what happens?? and this was one of those fics where idk where any of the ideas came from and tbh i don’t even know if it’s coherent lmao. but uh xiao is my absolute favorite character in genshin impact (ive been saving for his rerun for months) and i’ve been wanting to write for him but i just feel like he always ends up kinda ooc when i do. idk. anyways, that definitely won’t stop me from trying to write more for him in the future <3

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clareguilty · 3 years

Text

Juniper and Pine

read it here on the AO3

A/N: Im so glad Geralt is sterile bc i hate pregnancy but love breeding kinks. I barely know anything about the witcher but I know I wanna suck this man dry like a capri sun.

Geralt of Rivia/Reader Rating: Explicit | smut, breeding, reader has a coochie and hair long enough to braid Word Count: ~2300

You found him at the inn. Shrouded in shadow, tucked away in the back just as always. Two flagons before him, one empty and the other half full. He had likely already eaten his fill.

You sat across from him, ordering your own food and drink. Neither of you spoke.

He watched you. Mostly hidden by your cloak, he watched your hands as you cut your meat and sipped your ale. Caught a glimpse of your eyes when you chanced to meet his gaze.

Tension radiated from him. The set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. Icy rain pelted against the nearby window. The wind groaned lowly outside.

A group of men erupted in spontaneous cheers on the other side of the inn, and he turned quickly to glare at them unnoticed before turning back to his intent study of you.

So you studied him right back. Watching him from beneath the hood of your cloak as you ate. The meat wasn’t as warm as you would have liked but it was much appreciated after your many days of travel.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days. And silver scruff was filling in along his jaw. His hair was pulled back away from his face, and you watched the crease in his forehead occasionally deepen as he considered you. He was unarmored, though he still had with him a sword smaller than the greatswords he usually traveled with. His arms were bare, his sleeves pushed up to the elbow, and his dark shirt was half unfastened down the front. He must have been unaffected by the cold winds and rain that had overtaken you on your journey.

Your plate was cleared. Your cup was empty. You handed the barkeep your coins and offered your sweetest smile. Still, they scurried away when he stood, looming behind you. He had pulled his own cloak on, and you could feel the heat of him against your back.

You walked in front, but he was leading you. As you navigated the muddy, moonlit streets, he silently directed you. A heavy wooden door, a cold dark corridor. His footsteps behind you. You stepped into the room and heard the bolt set in place.

You unfastened your cloak, folding it neatly and laying it across the back of a chair.

“You were supposed to arrive at sundown,” he said. You glanced to see him standing before the fire, eyes focused on the flames. They reflected the light like molten gold.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. A storm slowed me down.” It wasn’t a lie. The weather had not been kind the last few days of your journey. You unfastened your belt, leaving it with your cloak, and pulled the plaits from your hair, combing your finger through the strands.

“Did you keep to the river?” he asked.

You hadn’t.

You were glad you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see your face. You know he had asked you to travel along the water, keeping to the valley. He was right that it was safer, but there were reasons for you to travel through the forest. Reasons he disapproved of.

Fingers shaking, you started on the lacing of your surcoat.

He stepped away from the fire, moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You leaned back against him, relaxing as he pressed his nose to your hair. His hands took over for yours as he undid the lacing. You trailed your fingers over his arms.

“I smell the spruce of the mountains,” he said.

You froze.

“Juniper.” He inhaled again, breathing in the scent of the forest that you had unwittingly woven into your hair.

He loosened the last of your laces and placed his hands over yours, holding you by your wrists.

“I can smell the North on you.”

Damn witchers. Damn them and their ridiculous senses. You tried to tug away from his hold, but he held you still.

“You disobeyed me,” he said. “And then you lied to me. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing.”

The rapid beat of your heart was only partially because of your dishonesty. He just had that effect on you. Surely he would know that by now.

“Geralt-”

He spun you quickly, backing you against the wall and leaning forward until his gaze was level with yours. His knuckles pressed to your throat, forcing you to lift your chin. “I told you it’s dangerous to travel the mountains alone.”

“I had to go,” you insisted. “It didn’t take me any longer to travel, and I made it back just fine.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t know?” His voice was low, a rumbling growl right beside your ear.

“I thought it would be best to ask forgiveness than permission.” You raised your head, firm in your decision.

“Of course,” Geralt scoffed. “It was foolish of me to even try and stop you.”

“It was,” you agreed. You moved to step forward, to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. You had missed him, and you wanted to be close to him. He kept you pinned to the wall.

“I believe you were supposed to be begging for my forgiveness?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes widened.

“Go on then,” Geralt shoved you to your knees. “Beg.”

Your knees would surely bruise from how hard you hit the floor. You reached forward to brace yourself on his thighs. He was watching you with smug satisfaction, already reaching to remove his belts and unfasten his trousers.

You watched his hands, eager for what was to come. Your lips were already parted, tongue swiping over them unconsciously. Geralt chuckled and pulled his cock free.

You stroked him gently at first, swiping your thumb over the tip and squeezing all the way down to the base. He was so thick your fingers couldn’t meet around him, but you didn’t mind. You loved the way his hips moved as you twisted your wrist. His stomach tensed and he inhaled with a hiss.

He quickly grew bored of just your hand, though. His fingers threaded through your hair before he tugged sharply, pulling you towards his cock. You wrapped your lips around him obediently. Slowly, he pulled you farther down his length. Each movement of your tongue or lips earned you a reaction from him, and you turned your eyes up to watch his expression change.

"You're going to take it all," he said, his voice low and rough.

You moaned, eager to do exactly as he said. He rocked his hips forward at the same time he pulled you in by your hair, and you were silenced as he forced his cock down your throat.

It was rough. Punishing. Exactly what you had earned by disobeying him. You weren't sure that obedience was worthwhile when this is what you got from going against his orders. You loved the scratch of his calloused fingers against your scalp and the low moans that escaped him every time you wrapped your lips around the base of his cock. He was taking his pleasure however he wanted, selfishly fucking your mouth.

And you were dripping down your thighs with arousal. Geralt was so strong and ruthless -- but rarely with you. It was seldom you got to see him this way and you loved it. He must have missed you while you were away.

"You’re an eager little whore aren’t you,” he growled, holding you down on his cock so he could fuck your throat. “Disobedient. Stubborn. Look at you.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, cheeks hot and flushed as you let him use you.

“I’m close,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut and head tipping back. His pace quickened, and then faltered. You held as still as you could as he finished down your throat.

He pulled away as gently as possible, carding his fingers through your disheveled hair as you gasped and coughed. You nearly collapsed on the stone floor, but he was quick to catch you, taking you into his arms and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trail over the skin exposed along his collar. He pressed his lips to your hairline, carrying you to the wide, low bed that occupied the far wall. You pulled him down alongside you before he could get very far.

“I need you,” you whispered, voice raspy. He let slip one of his rare smiles, pointed teeth gleaming in the low light, and you did your best to commit it to memory.

“I can’t believe you took the mountain path in such a short amount of time,” he said, stretching out long on the bed and pulling you to lay against his chest.

“I didn’t want you to know. It only takes four days to travel through the valley.”

“Yes, and it takes six or eight to take the mountains. It’s impressive really.” His fingers absently searched out any bare skin they could reach, tracing idle shapes into your skin. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

“I keep things exciting,” you teased. “But maybe I could put in a little more work to earn your forgiveness.” You let your hand trail over his chest, across his hard stomach and back over the fasten of his trousers.

He raised an eyebrow. You could tell he was interested from the way his cock twitched beneath your palm. Sitting up, you removed the rest of your clothes. Geralt’s eyes never left you. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the glistening mess between your thighs that he moved.

He was on you before you blink, looming over your back as he pressed a hand between your legs. “I could smell that you wanted me, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He rubbed your pussy with the pads of his fingers. “You’re so needy. Like a bitch in heat.” His voice was right in your ear, warm breath fanning over your skin.

You whined, rocking your hips against his hand. He pulled away just long enough to drag his shirt over his head and fling it away. His teeth latched onto your shoulder lightly as he pushed his trousers off as well. He pressed his cock against your ass, chuckling low as you pushed back to meet him, desperate to be filled.

“Geralt, please,” you moaned.

“Ah, so now you beg.” His voice was light and you wished you could see his smile. He settled his hands on your hips, lining himself up and sinking into you with a slow thrust of his hips. God, he was big. “You want me to breed you? To fill you up? Is that what you think you deserve?”

He was enjoying himself. He wasn’t usually so talkative, and you loved the sound of his voice in your ear as he pounded into you.

“Yes, please,” you nodded. He pressed you into the bed, pinning you beneath him and holding your hips so he could fuck you as hard as he liked. It was a blinding, delirious pleasure that you let yourself fall into, surrounded by Geralt, safe, protected.

He pulled you from your haze by reaching to press two fingers to your clit. You came almost immediately. He didn’t let up as you shook through your orgasm, clenching around his cock and crying out in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he said, never slowing the pace of his hips. “You’re going to come for me again.”

It didn’t seem possible. You were already so overwhelmed. But he changed the motion of his fingers, and you felt it building again. He was getting close as well. You could tell by the way he occasionally slowed to savor the feeling of you around him, almost immediately followed by a blinding pace as he chased his own pleasure.

His grip on your hip tightened, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more as he rutted against you. The sharp sting of his canines made you gasp. Spurred on by his own impending orgasm, he pressed harder to your clit. Your eyes rolled back as his rough fingers, slick with your own arousal, dragged you to a second climax.

He came as you did. His hips pressed tightly against yours as you shuddered and collapsed beneath him. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you with his seed.

A long moment of quiet, just the sound of your heaving breaths and the crackle of the fireplace. You melted onto the bed, stretching your limbs out long and sinking into a blissed out daze. Geralt wasn’t much better, laying half on top of you with his cock still buried inside. His breathing was evening out and you feared he would fall asleep.

“Geralt,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

“Mhm,” he responded, chest rumbling with the sound. You thought he was going to ignore you, but he moved after a second, pulling out of you with a hiss and searching for a way to clean up your mess. You rolled over, listening to your pulse gradually quiet and slow.

It wasn’t much later that you were beneath the coverlet, once again nestled against Geralt’s side as he lay still. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping, his eyes were closed and his breaths so even and slow. You admired the softness in his features that you almost never got to see. It was only at times like this that you could catch him without a stern expression.

“What are you looking at,” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“You.” You splayed a palm over his chest. “I like it when you look happy.”

“I am happy,” he said, not moving. “You make me happy.”

You were glad he wasn’t looking so he couldn’t see the effect his words had on you. Your face grew hot, and you couldn’t hide your giddy smile. Curling tighter against him, you rested your head against his chest and let your eyes drift closed. “You make me happy, too,” you whispered.

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