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savagesbonergarage · 4 years

Text

Heat

Savage Opress x reader

Prompt from @secretnerd00 "Could you maybe write some Savage Smut, with his s/o, who is a virgin but has a really dirty mind an goes just wild once there finally alone and ready for some sexy time?"

(a/n: Okay, so I went a bit crazy with this 😅 I haven't written smut in six years so honestly I have no idea if it's any good. There's some angsty bits beforehand, also because I'm not sure if the smut is good, this might end up being a part 1 and I'll write a part 2 if it's well-received. If you get to the end and you're like "that's it?!" yell at me and I'll write the second part lol.)

Warnings! Past sexual abuse (Savage), blood, fits of anger, heat cycles, striptease (kinda?), Masturbation, oral fixation

It had been days since you'd seen him. Even in situations where his presence was usually required, like at his brother's side in the throne room of the Sundari palace, Savage had been absent. Even stranger still was that no one seemed to have a reasonable explanation for why this was, and when you confronted Lord Maul about the issue he uncharacteristically fumbled a rushed response.

"I've sent him off to...hone his skills."

His gaze didn't have the signature menacing expression that he usually did when you dared speak to him without his brother present, yet something else about his tone convinced you not to implore further. If you didn't know any better, you could have sworn there was a semblance of concern in his voice. Even though you were unsatisfied with his answer, you walked away without any reassurance about the well-being of your beloved zabrak.

The entire situation didn't sit right with you whatsoever. Had Savage truly been sent away to train, he would have informed you of it beforehand. He wouldn't have wanted you to worry about him the way you currently were. Moreover, he would have instigated the tradition you both developed of finding a secluded spot to share a kiss goodbye before either of you left.

Something weighed heavily in your chest as you considered the implications of this unusual occurrence. You decided there was no use in spending the night pondering the possibilities; you were going to find out for certain on your own. It wasn't permitted for someone of your status to access the floor that contained Savage's quarters despite the fact that the two of you were on friendly terms, however that wasn't going to change your mind about getting there.

An hour later you stood inside the elevator that would finally take you to your destination, the limp body of the death watch guard stationed in the area crumpled at your feet. Sheer resolve and determination had given you the power to knock him out. You hoped in this case that following your instinct would be worth it, as attacking a fellow palace dweller was sure to have it's consequences if you were discovered.

The shaft finally opened and you snuck through a large hall until you came upon the door that unmistakably belonged to Savage. Creeping closer to better listen wasn't necessary since as soon as it entered your line of sight you heard deep, agonizing groans of pain. Your intuition had been right.

"Savage!"

Stealth was no longer a priority as you flung your body against the door and beat against it with your palm.

"Savage, it's me. Are you okay?"

You heard him approach the door, but rather than open it he lingered behind it. His voice was plagued with concern and he spoke between heavy breaths.

"You shouldn't be here. Leave, now."

His words did little to distract you from your mission.

"Savage, let me in. I won't leave until I see that you're okay. At least let me look at you. Please."

There was a moment of hesitation before you heard the latch click. You stood back as the door slowly opened just enough for you to see the full figure of the man you loved towering above you, clad in only a dark pair of shorts. Your face flushed as your eyes danced along all the defined ripples and crevices that accented the patterns of his tattoos that you hadn't gotten the chance to see until now. His chest was rising and falling with each quick breath he took, and the halo of the moonlight spilling in from a window far behind him caught the beads of sweat that peppered his skin. Maker, he was beautiful.

His resoundingly deep voice brought your attention back to his face as he spoke with firm authority.

"I'm fine. If you're satisfied, go."

You weren't. You knew that he was lying, that he was hiding something from you. From the moment you saw him you rattled your brain trying to decipher the real reason he isolated himself. Something was afflicting him, that much was certain, but you couldn't tell what. He didn't seem sick, he seemed desperate. Your chest thumped as you began to put two and two together.

"Why didn't you come to me?" The words left your lips with a hint of remorse and you found it difficult to conceal the pain in your eyes as you studied him, your revelation serving to stir up the embers that settled within you.

Savage's breath hitched.

"What-"

Before he could properly react you darted through the space between his calves and rolled onto the middle of the floor in his room. As you got up, you took notice of the carnage. Broken furniture, scratched surfaces and obliterated pillows with feathers still wafting around littered the entire space. Your heart sank.

"I knew it. You're-"

Your back hit the ground again as your wrists were pinned above you by his strong arms, eliciting a small cry of pain from your lips as one of his long horns grazed your cheek in the motion. The sound shook him, causing him to pause and look down at the little bit of blood that trickled down your face. He was clearly horrified by his own actions. He swiftly got up and roared in anger as he raked his claws across a shelf, sending everything crashing down with it.

You sat up, watching him with sadness as he knelt and held his face in his shaking hands.

"Savage..."

"I hurt you."

"Savage-"

"Stay back!"

He flung the side of his fist into the wall, a significant crack running up into the stone slab. His horns lowered and he hid his eyes from you in shame, speaking between shaky breaths as he shook his head.

"I couldn't come to you. I would have destroyed you. You're so frail, and I don't...I don't trust myself."

The zabrak had never uttered a sob in his life, but you could tell he was close. You crawled a little closer but still maintained your distance, not out of fear, but out of respect for Savage's concerns. It felt like a weight pressed down harder and harder onto your heart the longer you saw him in this state.

"Why do you insist on suffering? On isolating yourself like this?" Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. "This isn't healthy. What is your plan, to just endure this until it passes?"

"Do you not recall what just barely happened?"

He finally met your gaze with an anger in his eyes that was reserved only for himself.

"I'm a monster, but at least I'm aware of it. I can prevent hurting the one I love by staying away. If I foolishly gave in to this...sickness, I would have no concern for you. I would be no better than them."

You knew who he meant: The Nightsisters.

Everything started to make sense. Savage was afraid of hurting you intimately because he himself had been hurt. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but it was entirely plausible that the witch who changed his fate had also used him as so many others used the nightbrothers they claimed for themselves. His life belonged to her and he had to oblige her whims, despite never truly consenting to it.

The tears finally came. Your heart was breaking for him now more than ever before.

"Savage."

You couldn't help it. Ignoring his groans of protest, you approached him on your hands and knees and threw yourself onto his chest, enveloping him in a tight hug. He recoiled at your touch, but said nothing.

"You aren't sick. You're in heat."

Your hands travelled up over his shoulders and around the nape of his neck until they rested on either side of his face. He was trembling as you pulled back to look at him. You wanted to ease his suffering in any way that you could.

"I trust you. Do you trust me?"

He shook his head.

"Don't."

"You won't hurt me."

"I already have."

"I don't care."

"Then you're a fool."

"I agree."

He removed your hands from his face and you reciprocated by planting your lips firmly against his. An aroused groan escaped him and filled your mouth, causing the fire in your loins to flare up that much more. You deepened the kiss and guided his right hand to your breast. He winced as though he were in pain and broke your connection, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back.

"I'm not some helpless animal, Savage. You think you're a predator and I'm the prey, don't you? You think you'll devour me and that will be the end of it."

His reflective golden eyes were screaming with agony.

"I know it. I won't be able to promise your safety."

"Then don't."

He looked at you as though you were signing your own death warrant. You sighed, frustration starting to get the better of you.

"Do you think I would only help you out of obligation?" The notion made you shake your head. "Have you ever considered, Savage, that maybe..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist, bearing down so that the outline of your heated sex pressed against his growing erection. The sensation drew a mewl from your lips as your own breath hitched before you continued.

"...maybe I'm the kind of prey that yearns to be devoured."

Your name stumbled breathlessly from his panting mouth. You returned his hand to your neglected breast and guided his fingertips to the swollen nub that bade your clit to throb when it was touched. You moaned for him and you felt his impressive cock twitch beneath you, however he still held back. Your eyes were half-lidded and your face flushed with desire.

"I love you, Savage."

You planted another long kiss on the corner of his mouth. As your lips lingered there, a warm wetness trailed against your cheek. The tear was his. You held his face in your hands again and looked deep into those wanting eyes, reassuring him with a smile.

"I may be inexperienced, but I'm not as frail as you think."

Savage was about to break. He offered one final retort.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

It was meant to be a warning, but you took it as a dare. A quiet "oh?" escaped your mouth as you sensually trailed kisses all down his burning neck and chest which caused him to swear. If he was so adamant about how he was going to behave, you were going to make him prove it.

"I think you're making assumptions about your 'prey'."

Suddenly, you retracted your hold on him and backed away completely. For a moment you saw the yearning he tried so desperately to suppress flicker up to the surface. He didn't move. He didn't have to. You wanted to watch his every reaction, every movement from a distance. You stood and took a few steps back.

"Do I have your attention?"

He groaned.

"Always."

"Good. Keep it on me."

He swallowed as his eyes followed you to the foot of his bed. There was a subtle strut in your step and a knowing smile on your face. Truth be told you were nervous as hell, but you didn't care. Your love for Savage was all the resolve you needed. You turned to face him and extended your arms in front of you.

"Don't take your eyes off my hands."

His expression was confused to say the least, but he responded with a slight nod. You tested his listening skills by moving one hand this way and that, and sure enough his eyes followed. You almost laughed, but you weren't there to make him feel like an idiot. Slowly, ever so slowly, you brought your fingers to collar of your shirt and began unfastening the ties. Savage groaned in protest once again.

"Don't-"

"Hush. Remember what I told you."

The zabrak pursed his lips. He might not have been aware of how this strange behavior of yours was keeping him grounded, but oddly enough, it was. For now, curiosity overpowered his carnal instinct. He watched as you continued to make work of your pesky layers, slowly peeling them off one by one. You pulled your bottoms down over your knees and let them fall to the floor, leaving you in only your underclothes.

You could sense Savage's arousal from across the room. Even so, he remained right where he was, gaze still tracking your hands without fail. If there was one thing he was determined about, it was following an order that was given to him. You leaned back against his bedframe as you brought one hand up to cup your breast and guided the other down under the waistband of your panties. You looked to your lover, who was gritting his teeth at the show you were putting on for him. The outline of his dick was fully pronounced through the thin material of his shorts, the sight of which drew a loud moan from your lips as your fingers circled your clit and dived down between your folds and back. You darted your tongue out of your open mouth as you curled two fingers inside and gradually pumped, the back of your hand stretching the fabric of your panties with the motion giving the horny zabrak a peek of the real action.

He cursed. You watched him tremble with need as he grabbed the base of his cock over the fabric of his bottoms and lightly stroked, nearly sending you over the edge. You pulled your hand away before you got too close, Savage's eyes following intently as you brought it up to your face and you carelessly brushed your fingers against your cheek, leaving a streak of moisture that glistened in the moonlight.

The beastial sounds you elicited from the melting man on the ground made you want to beg for him right then and there, but you had an idea you wanted to follow through with. You dragged the tips of your slick fingers to your lips and kissed them, once, twice, a number of times. The kisses became more sloppy until your tongue had flicked across every inch down to the base of your hand. You didn't normally taste yourself, but the reaction you were getting from Savage made you want to behave this way even more. You brought your other hand up and wrapped it around your knuckles, holding your slick fingers in a way that made it allude to something more phallic.

He knew what you were doing, but the anticipation of it almost made it worse for him when you started sucking. If you were able to hear him from outside the door earlier, surely the entire palace could hear him now. You watched as a dark spot appeared on his clothing where the tip of his dick rested against his thigh. You might have been able to tease him further had your own arousal not been demanding you get to the point. You pulled your fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, a string of saliva trailing between them and your bottom lip.

"What are you thinking, Savage?"

You knew damn well what he was thinking, but you wanted to hear him say it. He struggled to get the words out past his groans of desire.

"I'm...envious."

"Of what?" You brought your knuckles up to your lips as he continued to lightly stroke his length.

"Those fingers."

You started mirroring the stroking motions the zabrak was making on them, a shit-eating grin on your face.

"Why?"

He growled, knowing that you were seeking a confession. It was clear as day that you both wanted each other, and there was only one thing keeping you from rutting on every surface in the vicinity.

"I want you to suck my cock. Suck me off just like that and I'll have nothing to worry about."

Those dirty words sounded like magic coming off his tongue, and Maker, were you more than happy to oblige.

Part II!

#star wars #savage opress #savage opress smut #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you #lol take a drink every time reader says his name #no y/n #sorry if this sucks

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justice4harwin · 3 years

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Summon of the Sun

A/N: IDK what possesed me to write this, but i havent even checked it so there’s probably all kinds of mistakes. Sorry. English isnt my first language. I sould really be practicing for my lesson right now instead of doing this lol. If you see any mistake, please, point it out, and please, if it’s not too much to ask, let me know what you think

Summary: Even after everything, even after all those years, the girl still tries to find solace in the shadows. Darklina

She knew she could probably never admit it out loud, especially not to Mal, but there were days when she couldn't ignore the longing in her heart, buried so deep nothing could ever reach it anymore.

She'd stand under the sun on summer's hottest days for hours on end, and yet the feeling wasn't the same. Still, she remained, even if her skin turned red and she then couldn't stand the brush of clothing over her skin later on.

In winter, she'd go out to take a long walk during the night, when the shadows were at its deepest and no one else would dare go out.

She looked for him, for any sign; a slight pull at the connection they once shared, a whisper by her ear, the flicker of a shadow.

She was the only one who dared go outside at such hours.

"Don't stay out late or The Darkling will snatch you." Parents told their children to get them to behave; she had even heard the staff at the orphanage saying so to her kids.

"There's no need to fear him." She had told them later on, still turning the lights on so they could rest easy, a sad look on her face. "There's no need to fear the dead. Nothing lurks in the shadows."

Except she didn't believe that last part. She didn't want to.

Mal sometimes asked her why she really took those long walks.

"I just wanna stretch my legs." "I just need to feel the air." Or jokingly, she'd say to him: "I need to be far away so I don't kick you."

He didn't ask her anymore, probably to avoid an inevitable discussion. He probably suspected why she searched in the shadows, but she'd never voice it to him.

Out, in the cold, she looked from one dark place to another, her heart and mind calling to a long dead bond.

She’d close her eyes and try to feel that pull, but all she felt was a void.

Sometimes, if she was feeling too brave, or bold, or desperate -depending on who you asked- she’d even call his name.

“Aleksander.”shyly whispered into the nothingness, receiving only the sounds of nature as an answer.

She was ridiculous. Or mad. Probably both. That man -for she had long ago stopped calling him a monster, at least inside her head- had only bought her pain; not only to her, but to those she held closest to her heart.

Still.

...still.

She gave up, turned around, and marched back to the house, barely visible in the dark. The only light coming off of it was that of the fire by which her husband awaited for her with a cup of tea; it was a little ritual before turning in for the night.

She entered the space and there he was, stoking the fire before letting himself fall back on a couch with a heavy sigh.

Silently, she sat next to him, and Mal put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

It warmed her heart, but it didn’t burn.

Maybe she’d end up becoming like Baghra, locked up inside a room steaming hot trying to set herself ablaze. She knew it wouldn’t work, but at this rate, she might as well try.

Winter went on as usual, freezing everything which had no refuge, killing everything soft, colder and colder, and darker yet,...nothing.

Then spring came, and very so slowly, the snow began to melt, and the trees gave birth to small flowers and the grass was visible again.

Mal and the staff had decided to take the children out on a picnic, but she had decided to stay.

“I’m not feeling very well.” she had said, to which her husband had frowned and pressed a hand to her forehead. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just tired.”

He’d smiled and kissed her goodbye before leaving with the little rascals, and she had smiled too, waving at them and wishing them fun.

Slowly, she walked up the stairs and entered their bedroom. After a minute of contemplation, she kneeled by the bed and pulled out a box. It had the royal sigil on it.

She opened it and took the note, affection nugging at her.

“You will always be one of us.” it read, in Zoya’s elegant handwriting.

Carefully, she set the note atop of the bed and took the blue kefta. The golden trim was beautiful, and so detailed; it expanded all the way from the neck, down her sides and to the back, meeting in the shape of a sun.

She raised up to her feet and, almost trembling, put it on for the first time. One sleeve at a time. Button by button.

She pushed her hair back and stood in front of her too large mirror -a gift from Genya and David-, and took a look.

It fit a bit too tight, having been made years ago, yet she felt perfect in it. She eyed herself from all angles and giggled, surprised at the sound.

She heard a sound and rushed to the window, but it was just some crows.

She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, taking in the sun again, as she had done plenty of times before, as she’d do plenty more in the future. Her hand went up and quickly flickered.

Nothing.

She pressed her cheek against the wood and planted her palm on the glass, trying to swallow back her disappointment.

A shiver went up her back; it was cold but not uncomfortable. She took a step back, the light seeming to recede from her, and then she felt it.

Soft, freezing, lingering.

It was like a kiss on her right cheek, while the other still burnt from the exposure to the light.

Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes shut. Her arms went around her, fingers digging into her own waist as she struggled to decide if it had been real or not.

“Aleksander?” she asked into the void.

Something cold surrounded her, like a blanket,...no, not a blanket.

An embrace.

Tears filled her eyes but she wouldn’t spill them.

It was so strange. The cold at her back and around her arms only; a chill over the right side of her face.

She dared herself to open her eyes; the shape of her own shadow at a slightly odd angle. Fearful of the cold going away, she moved her right arm up, stretching it to her side. The shadow waited, and after a few seconds, followed her movement.

She felt a cold breeze running down that arm, down to the tip of her fingers.

“Aleksander.” she sighed, almost smiling.

All she felt was another pressing cold against her cheek, and then it was all gone.

She turned around, not knowing what to find. Would he be standing there? Like he had all those times she had unknowingly called on him at the Little Palace?

But all she saw was the dark wooden wall, the same stain of humidity on its place.

Quickly, she took off her kefta and put it back in its place, along with the note, and ran down the stairs.

She was insane, surely.

Was it really him? Or was she so desperate that her mind conjured it all up just to get her to drop it?

She placed her hands on the sink and looked out. Any trace of the people who lived in the house with her had long since disappeared in the horizon. A butterfly flew across the window and settled on a pink flower.

She looked down and found a loaf of bread left behind.

She didn’t think about it. Her hand went up, her fingers twitched, and the shadow cast by the bread upon the counter shifted and then moved.

It stopped after a few seconds, and she dropped her hand, truly feeling tired this time.

A smile graced her face, and she slowly walked to the couch, where she laid down for a nap.

She examined her fingers with a soft look, and then placed her hand against her right cheek with a silly smile.

Turning, her eyes spotted the first dark corner they could find, and finding some semblance of solace, she drifted off into a world of fantasy, where things may have just been a little bit different.

#shadow and bone #shadow & bone #alina starkov #the darkling #fanfic #darklina #alina x darkling #mentions of mal #mentions of zoya #mentions of genya #i just had to get this out of my head #i love them so much #and this world

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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tapestry 👑 XIV

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader speaks with the king.

Note: Okay. Tomorrow is an early morning and I dunno if I’ll be posting but hey, 14 days in a row is fine, right? Let’s not worry about that though. We have some royal intrigue ahead of us and I know we’re all impatient but we’re going to have to take our time as it all comes to a head.💋 😉 I know what y’all are really waiting for lol.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

A week ago, you would've resented the king's surveillance. His insistence that you travel with a guard and only under his blessing. You were cloistered in his concern but you could not spurn it. For you were afraid. Truly.

That morning after you supped, you requested a walk of the palace corridors. Marge returned with the king's permission but the guard who stood vigilantly at your door was to accompany you. His sword always at the ready; both alarming and assuring.

The castle was airy as the winter descended upon the new year. You wore a thin cloak over your gown as you traversed the ancient halls. The guard's sword tinkled against his belt as Marge's shivers whispered in your ear. Your own breath mingled with the beating of your heart in an ominous symphony.

You neared the royal corridors along your aimless path and paused just before that which led to Eleanor's chambers. You looked to your escorts and crept a few feet nearer. You turned to look up at the tapestry beside her doors.

The rosettes stuck out from the field and gave lifelike bloom to the grasses. You tilted your head as you took in the expanse of cloth and thread. There it was; that twist of cloth which marked the last day you'd been yourself.

"My lady," Marge said softly. "Are you well?"

"Well enough," You answered as you leaned closer to the wall.

"Should we linger here?" She breathed as the guard gripped his pommel.

"Do you think the queen should emerge and slay me where I stand?" You asked dryly.

Marge frowned and shook her head. You turned away from the fabric and retreated from the corridor.

"Let us continue our walk. Perhaps I should see to my father when he is free of council." You mulled. "Or perhaps we shall return as we were."

Upon the next corner, you heard the noise of approaching footsteps. Your guard stepped before you and slowed. Shadows reflected in lantern light as the figures neared and emerged at the end of the corridor. Your guard relaxed and stood at alert as you bowed in greeting of the unexpected royal.

King T'Challa did not pass though. He instead stopped to greet you, almost as if he knew you.

"Your highness," You said.

"My lady," He nodded to you and smiled. "Do you tarry alone?"

"Alone?" You looked to Marge who looked to the floor shyly. "I have my maid."

"But should you not be in attendance of your queen?" He asked.

"She has pardoned me from her court," You replied carefully. "So I attend to myself."

"Oh," He considered you as thoughts glimmered in his eyes. "Not many queens would tolerate a paramour in her court."

You averted your eyes in shame.

"Do not think I judge you, my lady," He continued. "I am only curious. I hear things and they do intrigue me. They say you are devious and calculating, others allege you to be pious and humble. I suspect they are all true."

"Your highness?" You looked to him.

"You are calculating in that you did heed the king's reputation, devious in that you would withhold any particular leaning to save your own, pious in that you worship your honour, and humble in that you cannot see what a mess you've created." He smiled proudly. "Do not think my words to be unkind, for without even knowing you, I do admire you."

"Admire?" You echoed. "For what?"

"For your resolve. For withstanding a storm that would tear many apart." He said. "My lady, would you be averse to me walking with you?"

"I would not refuse such an offer," You accepted evenly.

"Even now, you maintain your courtesy," He remarked. "And you bide my bald words."

He turned so that he was shoulder to shoulder with you, Marge retreated to walk with the guards. The king awaited your first step and you hesitated before you took it.

"I suppose I cannot find where to disagree with them." You countered.

"Mmm," He hummed thoughtfully. "I do wonder… after all I've heard of you and your snaring of the king. Why, my lady, I might offend you again but you are rather plain for a seductress."

"I am aware," You said stiffly. "Believe me when I say I am just as shocked as any at my circumstance and wholly unprepared."

"And what would prepare you? What should make a lady ready for a king?" He pondered. "Do you think you should be like Queen Eleanor?"

"She is strong. Bred to be a queen." You said. "She is better made for it than me."

"A queen who has sewn discord among her court and without." He looked to you as he spoke. "I am certain you have heard of my pre-standing relationship with the queen."

"I've heard as much as you have of me," You said.

"So you would. She's barely changed since I knew her. Colder, perhaps." He mused. "I thought I did love her until I realized she did not love me."

You lowered your brow as he let his eyes float ahead of him.

"We were betrothed. I'd lived among her family for years. We spent hours a day together and I was quite taken by her. As any boy would be.

“But when I was recalled home and war loomed over us, I did swear to her I would appease my father so that we may still marry. So that we could one day rule over our kingdoms peacefully. Together."

He paused and let out a long breath. "She told me she could not wait to be my queen and I thought she meant it. The next I heard of her, she'd set sail for another prince."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked.

"Because I am certain you know how Eleanor can be. One moment she is your friend and the next, she's not."

He stopped and turned to you as you struggled not to trip on your skirts.

"Eleanor's spies learned of my visit the day before I reached the capital. She did try to have them keep me from my arrival. She failed." He shook his head as a wistful air came over him. "I do not trust your king either but he has yet to betray me as Eleanor did. In so much as I can fathom it, she has betrayed us both."

"And so what? You seek kinship with him? A shared loathing?"

"I intend to rescue my reputation which has so long been stained by Eleanor and what she has done to me." His jaw set as he held his shoulders high. "I seek to repay the queen in kind."

"And what would be my role in all this?" You asked.

"Your role is at has been. If you remain as you are, you might just get out of this alive." He looked to his guard and nodded. "My lady, I shall leave you to your path as mine would diverge here, thought I am certain they will meet again."

He bowed his head and you returned the courtesy. He smiled kindly and turned sharply on his heel. You watched him go. You were stuck in place as the thoughts flurried in your head. Those which hadn't ceased for days now. Though this king had added to the list.

As he disappeared around the next corner, you wondered if he offered you advice or issued you a threat.

👑

That night, you went to the king to sup. His invitation had been firm and without refusal. Since the servant boy's demise, he was ever more insistent. Ever more demanding. Often, you found his presence overbearing; at one moment, entirely inflamed in his anger and the next consumed by his affections.

When his doors were opened to you, you stepped within nervously. You still weren’t used to his chambers. The skin carpet before the heart, the large desk that loomed before the window, the twin tapestries along the east and west walls, and the grated candelabrum which hung from the ceiling.

Hugh remained and the replacement for the royal taster. This one lanky and blond, almost fearful as he but into the food. You couldn't blame him for as you watched him, you saw the red-headed boy open your carpet. Though this one did not keel over.

You sat across from the king as he ate with one hand and in the other shuffled through sheets of parchment. His blue eyes were vigilant as if the letters would move should he look away.

You watched him as you ate. He rubbed his eyes as he set aside a page and leaned back. The wrinkles left his brow as he looked to you.

"I am happy to see you eating, my lady," He said. "You seem not so wary."

“I remain cautious," You assured him. "As this court remains treacherous."

"Oh, but we should search out the snake that does hide in the branches and drain its venom before its fangs should sink too deep."

"May I ask…" You began and caught yourself. "I dare not."

"Well, you've begun so you may." He drank from his wine and picked at his plate.

"I do worry at the presence of the Wakandan king. Of what should precipitate such a spontaneous invitation."

"You should worry of the presence which remained without invitation," He took another bite and wiped his mouth. "Of one who wishes you harm. Perhaps even wishes it upon myself."

"Then…" You began tentatively and he tilted his head. "Would it be wiser to send me away until they are found out? Until these ill tides wash over?"

"Send you away?" He sat back so heavily his chair wobbled. "So that they may have you upon your own. May see you vulnerable and far away."

"I would not be alone. I would see my mother and sister." You argued. "They have a household, and security of their own. Edward does keep my sister well looked after."

"No, you are safe here. With me." He snarled. "You are safest close to me and I will not, cannot, be without you."

"Your highness," You reached to him and placed your hand on his. "I am afraid."

"I know, I know," He softened and turned his hand to grip yours. "But I shall see you safe, my lady. My love." He tugged until you rose and pulled you to stand before him. "For I fear for you too and that drives me to see that you are kept well."

"Your highness," You lowered your lashes, "I thank you for your care but ask that you do consider my request further."

"I shall consider it," His hand trailed along your bodice and he played with the braided belt at your waist. "But you will not leave me. Ever."

"And will you answer my first question?" You asked as he took your hand again and admired it.

"You are in need of rings," He commented. "Rubies. Maybe a sapphire."

"You elude me again." You accused.

"I do not elude, only delay…" He looked up at you, "Because I cannot help but admire you."

"Well, then I await an answer, your highness," You said.

"Sit," He drew you between his knees and sat back. "And I shall tell you then."

You looked at him. He grinned and watched you patiently. You turned and lowered yourself into his leg. Your skirts fanned put around you both. You found, as Rose advised, to appease him was easy and most times, convenient.

His hand hovered along your back and he beamed up at you.

"You asked why the Wakandan king should be here. You are clever and you see beyond my courtly explanations. A good omen for your future." He preened.

"I saw the queen's reaction as did many others." You said. "I saw her discomfort, her unhappiness deeper than before."

"So you can guess that she knows the king." Steven led you. "And that he does threaten her current position."

"I see not how he could intimidate her," You baited as you blinked in a show of confusion. "She is a queen, he is a king. They are of separate kingdoms, ordained in their own right."

"Oh, you are young and, despite your wisdom, still naive," His hand spread over your hip and squeezed. "The queen does put herself in a perilous position so that she may be easily toppled.

"And she is aware of it so she fears any. King T'Challa, me, you. And behind her paranoia is guilt, though that has yet to come to light. Though I do peer into the dark."

"And what shall the people think?" You asked.

"What I tell them to think. What the truth tells them to think." His arm was full against you as his hand was tight along your side. "They want a queen who loves them. A queen who is kind. A queen who can give them hope… an heir."

"Eleanor is young still." You argued.

"She has been young for many years and she does not quicken. She would say I strayed far too much to see to an heir but I laid with her as much as any woman." His eyes bore into you as his other hand fluttered along your thigh."But this past year, she does not yield to me. She does not even try."

"And you've gone to her?"

"Not in some time but only for when I dared to visit she did bicker with me." He sighed. "I could have not begot and heir if I'd tried, she does hate me so."

"And you would try no further?" You prodded.

"She would not let me and there is not to try for. " He grieved. "An heir must be lawful or he may not sit the throne."

You held his eye then looked to your hands as they clung to each other. His hand closed on your skirts and he squeezed your thigh through the layers. You winced and raised your head.

He was aflame as he leaned in. His arm snaked up your back as he grabbed your head and pressed his lips to yours. You pushed on his chest as he kissed you. He did not relent until you were out of breath.

"Your highness," You breathed but stayed in his lap, too afraid to move.

"I… must have you." He purred.

"We cannot--"

His arms cradled you suddenly and he stood with you aloft. You clung to him to keep from slipping, dizzy from the sudden movement. He kissed you again as he walked blindly around his chair. You squirmed and he hummed onto your mouth.

When he parted, you gasped, your cheeks burned. "It would not be lawful. As you said…"

"Hugh, you may leave us." He said.

"Your highness," You pleaded as Hugh started for the door. "Please. You would ruin us both. Have we not waited this long?"

The king took you to the couch and laid you down beneath him as you struggled. He had you pinned, his hand around your chin. He snarled at you, his nose almost touched yours.

"We do not wait on your accord anymore, my lady," He rasped. "I am your king. Do you feel how easy it would be? How simply I could have you?"

"I do," You gulped as he crushed you under him. He forced his knee between yours as you shoved on his shoulders weakly. Hugh's footsteps continued. "I do. Would you? For one night? For if you do that's all it could be."

He smirked and rubbed his nose against yours. "Hugh, you may remain," He said as he removed himself from you. "Let you be witness to our shared abstinence."

His voice was dull and irritated. You pushed yourself up and drew your legs away from him as he sat back entirely. You felt almost hurt by his demeanour as his blue eyes stared at the carpet and he moped.

"Your highness," You said softly but he didn't respond. "Steven?"

His lashes flicked and he looked to you. The tension left his jaw and he nodded.

"I'm...sorry."

"I am, too," He said as he took your hand. "But you are right. This will be over soon and we cannot spoil it in a single evening."

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #medieval au #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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zarcake-writes · 4 years

Text

The Witch King- Part 1

Hello! Yes, the title was hella inspired by the Lord of the RIngs. But I’ve only seen the movies and never read the books, so it’s mostly just the name and cool castle/fortress design.

Anyways! This is a Choose Your Own Adventure Story. I meant to post this ages ago, once I got 3000 followers, but life got in the way. And life kept getting in the way. Now! I have some time. So, I figured I would start this!

At the bottom of the story is a link to vote on what the reader should do next. You will have a full 24 hours to vote! I will then I will write the next part. So give me time lol.

Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for the support and love, you all are sooooo amazing.

Story warnings: mentions of slavery, mentions of abuse

Nestled deep in the mountains is a fortress that looks like it was carved from green quartz. Some people say the fortress is actually a castle or a palace. Others say it is a massive city of green buildings that take up the entire mountain range. The only consensus among people is the color, an unnatural green that makes a person’s skin crawl, and the unending silence. Even when the wind blows, the rain falls, and the snow rages, the entire area surrounding the fortress is silent.

Thousands of rumors fly back and forth when it comes to this place. Some people say the castle is empty, that it was abandoned long ago by an unknown being. A king of a realm lost to time. Or a wizard that none seem to remember. They insist it is in ruins now, lost to the ravages of time. Forgotten and empty, save the ghosts that linger in the weathered halls.

Yet, some say that castle is still there. Still standing tall and strong in those mountains, with the unsettling green walls and the unending silence, with a single inhabitant. A man or creature who is so evil that none dare speaks his name. Just his title, the name given to him by those who feared him. The Witch King.

As a child, your mother told you the stories about this evil entity. The Witch King would take bad children who didn’t listen to their parents and eat them. He would pull them out of bed by their toes and fly to his green castle, laughing at the crying children. The stories worked, they scared you so bad that you were afraid to do anything wrong. You were so terrified you didn’t even sleep with your feet hanging off the bed.

It’s been years since you last thought of the Witch King and his green castle. Years since that familiar fear crawled up your spine and wrapped its hand around your heart. Years since you’ve last seen your mother. But now, as you look up at the massive green fortress, that familiar feeling crawls up your throat. Whether it because all those stories are true or because of the man currently pulling you towards the fortress, you don’t know. Maybe it’s both.

The man, who is holding your arm in a firm grip, did not give you his name. He never bothered asking for your name and he hasn’t bothered renaming you. For that, you are happy. Ever since you were taken from your home and sold into slavery, you’ve had several different names.

This nameless man bought you a month ago from a woman named Lady Argent. She owned you for about three years and bought you the first man who truly broke your spirit. She had named you Pretty Girl. Lady Argent wasn’t the cruelest woman, at least to you, but she wasn’t kind. You saw the beatings and whip marks on her other slaves. Heard the stories about what she did to those who truly angered her or tried to escape. You saw the pit, heard the howling of the beasts. So, you behaved.

You were surprised she sold you. She always said she preferred when you brushed her hair. Apparently, you have a gentle touch. But she sold you to this nameless man without batting an eye.

This man is tall and strong. He’s covered in strange, twisting, and intricate tattoos that glow and shimmer when he practices magic. He barely feeds you or speaks to you. You’ve noticed he barely eats himself or bothers to speak to anyone.

Since he bought you, he’s done nothing but travel. He walks and you follow. In the evenings, when he allows you to rest, he looks through a massive book and practices his magic.

When he practices his magic, the tattoos glow and spark. It terrifies you. Yet when he fails a spell, his anger terrifies you more. It’s either loud and explosive, with him storming off and shouting. He always returns later, calmer and quiet. When his rage is silent, that’s when you fear for your life. You don’t sleep those nights; too afraid he’ll blame you and kill you while you sleep.

Despite his rage, you consider the man to be kind. He never raised a hand against you or yelled at you. He doesn’t demand you do anything to him or for him. He’s definitely kinder than the other people who owned you in the past. Yet now, as he pulls you towards the entrance of that terrible green castle, you think differently. He’s probably the cruelest man you’ve ever met.

As the castle looms closer, the pounding in your ears grows louder and louder. You’re shivering, from a combination of fear and the cold wind that cuts through the rags you wear. The man who holds you is warm, his skin is always burning hot, but it does nothing to alleviate the shivers that wrack your body.

The double doors are massive, made of black metal with twin snake-like creatures engraved along the front. Hanging next to the doors are sconces, burning with an emerald green fire. The man holding your arm stops before the doors and waits. After what feels like an hour, but is really only a minute, the doors creak open.

The man steps forward, pulling you with him. You attempt to resist, pulling away and digging your heels into the stone, but it does nothing. The man grunts, one of the only noises you’ve ever heard from him, and yanks you through the doors with him.

Through the massive metal, doors are a large entrance area and a wide staircase. The interior walls are the same unnatural green as the outside, while the floor is black and cold. It shimmers like metal, but it’s rough, like stone, against your bare feet. A huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling and numerous braziers line the walls; an emerald green fire burns bright on the chandelier and in each brazier. The fire does nothing to warm to the area, and there’s no crackling or popping.

It’s beautiful. Sickly beautiful. But you want to cry out of fear.

The man doesn’t seem impressed by the architecture or the green fire. His scowl deepens and he pulls you down a hallway to the left.

You try to memorize the path he’s taking, but you lose track after the fourth left. Somehow, the man knows where he’s going. You assume he’s been here before or maybe something magical is calling to him. Something dark and magical leading him through the twisting and turning green halls.

Eventually, he pulls you into a large study. A single brazier sits in the middle of the room, next to it is a large table; it’s covered with loose papers and many opened books. Along the wall, directly left of the brazier, is another table full of vials and bottles. The liquids shimmer unnaturally. There’s a bundle of red flowers and some kind of glowing rock beside the vials. Across from the brazier is a large window, partially hidden behind a tattered curtain. Natural light seeps in, mixing with the green light from the brazier.

A rickety wooden door is opposite the window. A strange white light seeps out from beneath the door and through the wooden slats of the door. It sounds like someone is talking to themselves, followed by the rustle of pages and the clinking of glass and metal.

The man pulls you towards a chair and points at it. “Sit. And do not move.”

You do as he says. He gives you a hard look then turns away. You watch as he approaches the wooden door. He knocks, then pushes the door open, vanishing inside. A voice greets the man, and there’s the sound of conversation. You’re left alone in the study.

You wonder if you should stay seated. If you disobey, the man might hurt you. Course, there’s the chance he might hurt you anyways. A part of you is screaming to run, but run where? You’ll get lost in this castle. And even if you manage to find the exit, what then? You’ll die in the mountains. No, staying seated in the better option. Much safer. Or is it?

Perhaps you should investigate the room? But investigate what? The table full of papers? The strange vials? The window? No, he said to stay seated. And if he catches you out of your seat, gods know what he’ll do to you. Stay seated.

The glowing light behind the wooden door catches your attention. The conversation is too low for you to make out what they are saying. However, there is the occasional rustle of papers followed by the slamming of a book. Maybe you should peek through the door? Try to see who or what the man is talking to. Do you dare?

Click here to vote on what should happen next!

#exophilia #lich x reader #undead boyfriend #monster boyfriend

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darknessisafriend · 4 years

Note

How do you think Joaquins characters would react to that “walk up to your boyfriend naked” challenge lol

And here we are!!! that was fun to write^^ I hope you will like it!

MULTI-JOAQUIN CHARACTERS WALK UP TO YOUR BOYFRIEND NAKED CHALLENGE (More like short imagines than headcanons ^^)

Commodus

- Commodus was working late at night as usual; he was working too much, and you knew how bad it was getting on his mind. The next day he would be grumpy, on the edge, his mind clouded by confusing thoughts and then, the poor man would continuously doze off throughout the day.

- This time you were decided not to let him work the whole night. You had an idea, that you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist to; he would definitely come to bed with you. You were going to walk to him naked in the middle of his work.

- So, that night, you crossed the corridors of the palace, completely naked, under the stunned looks of the servants and guards. You grinned, excited to see your Emperor’s reaction.

- He was in his study, reading some scrolls, his chin resting in his palm; he was bored out of his mind and yet his work had to be done.

- “Commodus.” You called him as you came into his view “Hmmmm?” he hummed before slowly lifting his head, wondering why you were still up.

- You hid your grin as you watch his face; his eyes slightly opening wider than usual, he was stunned but did his best to contain it “Did you cross the whole palace naked?” you nodded. You knew how possessive he was and the simple fact of knowing guards and servants and even slaves had seen you naked was going to make him react.

- “Come here.” He would ask you calmly but his eyes glowing with possessiveness but saying nothing else; he knew all too well you were the one in control in their relationship and he would love that. Turning in his seat to face you as you arrived next to him. His eyes would detail your body like you were the most beautiful sculpture ever made.

- “Do you like what you see, Commodus?” you murmured sensually, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath at your touch. “Yes, my Empress…” He would wrap his arms around your hips, bringing your body closer to his. Not being able to resist to your body, his mouth lands on your belly, trailing hungry kisses up to your breast.

- Then, he would get up, aroused, pressing his body against yours and pressing you against the desk, his hands running along your side, hungrily kissing you. And you would let him enjoy just enough to make him crave for you.

- “Let’s go back to our chambers…” you moaned against his ear. But he would be stubborn “No, let’s stay here…” he breathed against your skin, hoping to have sex in his study before going back to work.

- No matter how hard it would be for you to resist his skilled tongue, you would gently push him away “No.” you insisted with a grin.

- “What if I ask as your Emperor?” he tried and you smirked defiantly “The Empress doesn’t take orders from her Emperor…either you come to bed with me and enjoy or you stay with your scrolls…” you replied keeping a sensual tone and starting to walk away.

- He would sigh and look at the scrolls “Hell with the Senate!” and he would run after you; going back to your chambers together just as you had planned.

Arthur/Joker

- You and Arthur have been intimate for a while now, but you wanted to surprise him, especially for his birthday.

- You had planned a perfectly sweet birthday to spend with him, but a bit steam will be the cherry on top. You could have surprised him at work, but you preferred much more to surprise him at home, his safe place and your safe place.

- Arthur was watching Murray on TV; towards the end of the show, you eclipsed to the bedroom to take off your pajama. From the door frame you looked at your boyfriend, a tender smile on your lips as you watched the admiration he had for Murray.

- You waited for the end credits to roll and approached the sofa again, dancing naked at the rhythm of the music “Artie…got a little surprise for you…”

- It would take a few seconds for Arthur’s eyes to leave the TV and when they land on you, his jaw would drop, not believing the vision he had in front of him.

- He would instantly need to touch you, it had remained a habit of his, to make sure you were there; his hand taking yours.

- As soon as he realizes you are truly here, naked in front of him; his eyes would shine with adoration and he would pull you to him, making you sit on his lap, for at first cuddles and kisses and then sweet love making on the sofa.

- As for Joker you had decided to distract him from his work because when he was caught up in his schemes, he would literally forget anything else, sometimes even you. He didn’t mean it of course but sometimes it happened.

- You would arrive in the room where he was with his fellows; completely naked, and not carrying about the other people that could have been there; they knew who you belonged to and none would dare to touch you, they would even look away in fear of reprisal from the clown.

- Joker is very possessive and easily jealous and at first he would definitely take this as a provocation, his eyes going dark “Everyone out. Now.” He would order them, his eyes never leaving you.

- “Come here, kitten.” He would order you in a low tone, extending his hand for you to take. And you would obey, coming to sit on his lap.

- His arms would securely wrap around you, his eyes shamelessly detailing your naked form before looking at you in the eyes, intensely, trying to understand why you had provoked him.

- But your mischievous smile and confident indicated something else…he would raise an eyebrow “Is that a gift for me?” he would finally ask you, his fingers lightly brushing over your lower back.

- You slowly nodded, still looking at him in the eyes and he sighed in a mix of relief and contentment “Do you like it?” in return a charming smirk would form on his lips and he didn’t need to talk, you knew exactly what would happen next.

Bruno Weiss

- You were part of the little group of women of Bruno. The only difference is that you didn’t undress, not anymore.

- Since, you had become his girlfriend, it was almost unbearable for him to see other men watch you dance. He wished he could offer you a better life, but you couldn’t find another job for now. The other girls were jealous because you had become ‘his little princess’ has they called you. But you didn’t care, you simply had managed to get under his hard shell, there was some goodness in him.

- It was the afternoon and rehearsals as usual. And you felt like testing Bruno’s reaction, after all he worked with half naked women all day along, you could get jealous too.

- You would get naked in the dressing room; everyone was backstage or on stage. You partially opened the door, only slightly letting out your head “Bruno!” you called strongly several times, until he would finally came backstage with his usual grumpy air “What is it Y/N? it better be important, we’re in the middle of re-” he wouldn’t finish is sentence as he entered and saw you completely naked.

- He would close the door behind him, a confused look on his face “Why are you naked?”

- He would very probably look around, even search through the closets to make sure you weren’t with a secret lover, even thought you had called him but he was a jealous and possessive lover and had stupid ideas going through his mind sometimes.

- You bit your lower lip and enjoyed the look on his face as he would realize that you wanted to surprise him, and you definitely did. His eyes wider than usual, his mouth slightly agape.

- “So, what do you think about my little surprise Bruno?” you asked on a sensual tone, slowly approaching him, your hand lingering on his chest. It would take him a few seconds to recompose himself before a suggestive grin formed on his mouth.

- He would wrap his arms around you, enjoying feeling your bare skin under his fingers and you of his clothes brushing against your naked body.

- “Rehearsals can wait.” He would finally say not being able to resist you.

Charlie

- It annoyed you when Charlie played sweet talker with others than you, especially when he got tipsy in a saloon. He didn’t mean it but he was a seducer and even more when he drank.

- With Eli, the three of you had mingled among the people of this little town to get to the target which gave Charlie even more opportunities to flirt, you knew he wouldn’t go to the point of fucking one of them but still.

- Thankfully the three of you left the town to head to your camp outside for the night. And Charlie still held onto the saddle, so he wasn’t that drunk. Good, because you had decided it wouldn’t be the end of the night for him, you had a little surprise for him.

- Eli was the first one asleep, he wasn’t much of a night owl. Charlie was lying down by the fire, staring at the flames and waiting for you to join him in his bunk for the night.

- You pretended to fix a few things on your horse, whereas you were actually taking off your clothes. When you finally came out from behind your horse, Charlie’s eyes instantly landed on you, he was constantly on his guard, especially when he was on a mission.

- His eyes would slightly widen and then a grin form on his face, he couldn’t help but giggle “Did I drunk that much?” he would exclaim, shamelessly detailing your naked body.

- Then, he would remember his brother was there, so he would quickly turn his head towards him, but remember he was asleep. Good, because Charlie was a very possessive guy and he wouldn’t want his brother to see you naked.

- “Damn, love…your lucky I’m too drunk otherwise…your gorgeous ass would be mine already!” he would say with his charming air, making you chuckle; Charlie had quite an ego.

- When you had approached him, he would grab your hand and pulling you towards him and making you fall on top of him.

- His eyes would follow his fingers as they lightly brush along your skin, glowing under the light of the fire.

- He would reverse the positions, no matter how much alcohol he drank, he still had strength and precision in his movements. “You’re beautiful.” he would declare, as a matter of fact and he would kill anyone who disagrees.

- He would place a few sloppy kisses on your face, neck and then chest. Then, he would cover you both with furs. And finally, he would be lying down on top of you, his face buried in your neck, his fingers lightly brushing over your breast and belly, too tired to do anything else but it wasn’t so bad, he loved cuddling with you.

Joe

- Joe was peacefully preparing lunch in the kitchen; focused on cutting some vegetables as you quietly got downstairs. You would have wanted to completely surprise him but because of his PTSD, creeping up behind him was a bad idea that could trigger a panic attack or defensive reaction; and that’s not what you wanted, you wanted him to enjoy.

- You hid your naked body behind the door frame, only letting him see your face “Joe?” you called softly, letting him know your presence.

- “Hmmm?” he would reply, finally turning to face you, watching you curiously to understand why you were hidden behind the door frame.

- You would smile sweetly at him and come out, slightly biting your lower lip as you waited for his reaction.

- He would fully turn towards you, his belly pepper and knife still in hands, as if hypnotized by you; before he snaps of his trance and puts them aside. Then, he would slowly approach you, his eyes fixated on your face.

- He would stay silent for a bit, not knowing what to say first. You decided to encourage him by speaking first “I wanted to see how you would react if I surprised you like that.” You spoke softly, and it would reassure him, because sometimes he could have trouble to understand some situations.

- “You look…very beautiful.” He would murmur, before taking you in his arms, fully embracing you in his big arms, to cover you as if to protect you.

- You would return the hug, burying your face in his neck, enjoying his warmth enveloping you “Thank you, love.”

- You would exchange a few tender kisses before letting you go back upstairs to put some clothes on and finally share a nice lunch together.

Max California

- You were spending the night at Max’s place, you didn’t have much of a plan for the night, probably watching movie snuggled against, listening to him play guitar and sing while drinking a few beers.

- Max was half-lying on his bed, one leg dangling over the edge, calmly playing a few chords. You were lying down in front of him; your legs entwinned with his as you drank your beer and listened to him.

- You wondered how he would react if he suddenly saw you naked…you didn’t know why you thought about that, maybe alcohol…he worked in a sex shop and saw naked women all day along, would he be surprised if you appeared naked? Or would he just quickly give you a look before focusing back on his guitar?

- “I’ll be right back.” You said untangling your legs from his and getting up, heading to the bathroom to undress; he would hum in return, focused on his guitar.

- As soon as you were undressed, you came back in the living in his room, wondering what he would say. “Hey, sexy boy look up.” You called him with a little grin.

- He quickly lifted his eyes and when he would noticed you were completely naked, he would slightly arch an eyebrow “Damn baby, I might work surrounded by naked chicks but you are something…” he commented with a little smirk, shamelessly detailing your body.

- “Really? I don’t look too…ordinary?” you asked him, pleasantly surprised. He chuckled, setting his guitar aside.

- “Look down there, do I think you look ordinary?” he gestured to his crotch, his leather pants tighter than usual. Your mouth formed a little ‘o’ shape, not expecting such an enthusiastic response.

- “Come here baby.” He would invite you with a sweet smile, opening his arms to embrace you. You would happily join him, snuggling against him for the night.

Abbe

- You and the Abbe had been secretly having an affair. He was a priest after all and therefore he had to publicly hide his feelings for you, which sometimes could be a bit tough on both minds.

- But instead of getting stressed out, you decided to tease and surprise him as he worked in his office as he always did, every beginning of the afternoon.

- It amused you how he didn’t suspect anything because you often came by his side to read a book from his personal library as he worked. He was focused on the letter he was writing, the only noises in the room were his quill on the paper, his calm breathing and your slow steps as you pretended to look at the books.

- When you were finally behind his back, as quietly as possible you took off your dress and underwear and then, continued to go through his library as if nothing was happening.

- “I didn’t know that when you confiscated the Marquis’ book you were actually keeping them in your personal library…” you smirked, your innocent priest had a much dirtier mind than you thought.

- This would make the Abbe instantly react, he lifted his head in your direction, his cheeks red. And his face turned even more red when he would see you were naked.

- “What are you doing!?” he would exclaim, quickly getting up and coming towards you, taking the curtains hanging by the window nearby to cover you. Completely wrapping you in it which would make you laugh.

- He would look around as if to make sure the door was closed and that nobody was about to enter. His arms securely wrapped around you to protect your integrity and also because he only wanted you for himself.

- Still holding you close, he would slowly lift his hand, coming up to your face to gently stroke your cheek, the nervousness of being discovered would be replaced by tenderness, his eyes soft as he looks at you in the eyes.

- “My beautiful Y/N…” he would murmur lovingly with the softest smile. His eyes slowly traveling down your neck and stopping at the curtain that covered but you could feel how much he wanted to see.

- Grinning you would open the curtain and wrap it around you both “Don’t worry Abbe, my purity is safe…this is a sight only for you.” You would whisper.

- As your arms were wrapped around his neck; his fingers would lightly brush over your breast, belly; his feather-like touch giving you goosebumps.

- His eyes would then lock on your womanhood, he would want you, take you fully and feel, taste your body under his lips.

- But the Abbe would be a repressed man and his dirtiest thoughts would remain in his mind. He would keep you in his embrace for a few more minutes before parting away from you and helping to dress back up.

- But that doesn’t mean he pushed you away; as finally the evening would come, he would take you to his room and show you how much he loves you.

Doc Sportello

- You were spending the night at Doc’s place and had went to take a shower, but you knew he would start getting high without you. Which would make it even more fun when you will come out of the bathroom completely naked. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time you do that, because you and Doc were people naturally walking around the house naked.

- You came out of the bathroom, droplets of water running along your skin as you walked to the living room. You wondered how would Doc react, if he would react at all.

- Doc wouldn’t be so surprised, still that doesn’t prevent him from intensely detailing your body. And he would pretty quickly get a hard-on, he couldn’t help it, you drove him crazy.

- He would lean back on the couch, his joint between his fingers “Why don’t you dress like that more often?” he would tell you meaning to flirt but his face when he was high looked like he was asking the most serious question in the world.

- “Maybe at home I will.” You smiled mischievously, joining him on the couch.

- And he would instantly make you lie down, coming on top of you, kissing you passionately, making you giggle.

- Then, he would offer to share his joint with you, as he often did and sex while being high with Doc was even better.

Freddie Quell

- You already spent a significant amount of time naked with Freddie. That man loved sex and even more with you. So, in a way he was very much used to see you naked and even in unusual places like when he came to see you at work and the both of you would get horny and have sex.

- Still, you wanted to try and surprise him. Freddie was working on a few things in the kitchen, repairing his camera while smoking a cigarette. Focused on his work; you felt him relaxed and calm, it was good to see him like that.

- As soon as he sees you enter the kitchen naked, he would chuckle, looking at you with a mix of arousal and affection.

- “Didn’t you get enough this morning?” he would ask you with a smirk, leaving his work, and turning in his chair to face you.

- “Maybe not…” you would reply on the same tone, playfully turning on yourself to fully show him your body.

- He wouldn’t wait for you to come to him; he would be the one closing the distance, wrapping his arms around you possessively.

- Freddie is already horny for you when you are wearing clothes; so naked, you don’t stand a chance, but you don’t mind, quite the contrary. He would cover your face with kisses and then place sloppy kisses down your neck and then breast and you loved Freddie’s kisses.

- And he would have no intention of letting you go until he’s made love to you “I like your surprises.” He would purr against your lips making you giggle.

Merill

- Merill was watching TV, watching cartoons for once instead of reality-TV to which he could be a bit addicted to. It always amused you and even more to how much he was fond of watching TV. You wanted to surprise him and make him give-up TV for the night.

- “Hey Merill…” you called him sweetly as you came into his view; the light of the room was dim, in fact only the flickering one of the TV.

- As he would turn his face away from the TV, Merill would huff in disbelief, his eyes shining with excitement, his mouth slightly agape, the TV remote falling from his hand.

- You would come to sit next to him, a pleased smile on your lips as you enjoyed his reaction; then, you would put your legs on his lap.

- And his hands would instantly come on top of them to caress your skin. And Merill would look at you lovingly “I love you; you know?” and you smiled back in return, slightly pushing on your hands to kiss his lips.

- “You know what? TV is really boring, why don’t we go elsewhere and hit a home run?” you couldn’t help but giggle at his pun before quickly jumping off his lap to run to the bedroom, very well knowing Merill would be first, he was a very good baseball player after all.

Theodore

- Theodore was currently playing video games in the living room and you enjoyed playing with him most of the time and that one was a really cool adventure game. You quickly disappeared in another room before reappearing before him, fully naked.

- “That’s some hot chicks you got there.” Commented the companion from his game; Theodore would make an outraged face “Offline.” Before waving to make the game disappear; the virtual character had seen you naked before your boyfriend.

- The both of you couldn’t help but burst out laughing it was slightly awkward but funny. And then, Theodore’s gaze would turn very soft, looking at you with infinite tenderness; what a romantic soul he had.

- “That’s making me feel poetic” he would murmur lovingly, a sweet smile playing on his lips “You are always poetic Theo.” You smiled softly in return, joining him on the couch “But go on, I want to hear what you want to say.” You encouraged him; you loved his poems.

- And he would really make up a poem for you, it was all so romantic of him. Describing your curves, the tone of your skin with analogies and the emotions that it inspired him. It would make you blush and even more in love with him.

- He would take you in his arms, tightly hugging you against him, enjoying your warmth, the feeling of your naked skin under his fingers. And could literally spend hours cuddling with you.

Tag list: ‘I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone^^’) @hopelessdisasterr @skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @beautifulyoungprospect @stellargirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @niniitah-ah @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy @spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane @legojorny @lemondedeniname @hvproductions @syvellsworld @charlie-sisters @papercut-paranoia @jokerflecker @cigznvalentines @help-i-am-obssessed @arthurfleckjoker2019 @theartistdetective @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @fleckcmscott @obssessedandthirsty @ridiculousnerd @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @welcometomyhiddlesfandom @sanguinandoscrivo @valentina15 @phoenixbaby88 @captain-el-writes @thedamchii @ninathefandomcollector @kiddastle @lovesickforjoaqvin @joaquins-angel @alexsportello @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @bring-your-holy-water

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

do you have a list of podfic recs? i listen to a lot of @podfixx but she just has so many it’s hard for me to narrow down what to listen to sometimes. i’d love to give other podfic creators a chance too!

Hi Nonny!!

AHHHH Okay so I am a loser and don’t listen to podfics even though I know I would enjoy it for long road trips, but AHHH I don’t I’m so sorry, so I don’t have any PERSONAL recs, so the BEST I can do is give you a list of fics that I know have Podfics for them, since as I go through my bookmarks and update them, I’ve been adding podfic links to them because I like having my lists be as thorough as possible, so this will ALSO give me a chance for authors who know they have podfics of their stories can add them to my recs and I can add them to my offline list LOL

PODFICS

BOOKMARKED FICS

To the Nines by suitesamba (M, 2,724 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism, Pining, Angst, John Whump, Time Travel, Fortunes, Time Jumps) – John skips forward in time, and Sherlock reads the signs that point to nine. John knows he’ll eventually be with Sherlock, but the waiting is nearly impossible, and his body is a lot more than transport. A foray into magical realism where all the canon events occur, and a hell of a lot more.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Suicide, Jealousy) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary’s wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn’t exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues – just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Drama & Angst, H/C, First Time, Blind Sherlock) – Events after ‘The Great Game’ leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own…

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

“TO READ” FICS

Curlock by 88thParallel (G, 1,285 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Sherlock’s Hair, Fluff, Ficlet) – How Sherlock learned to control and appreciate the incredible gift he was born with, and the man who helped him sort it out.

Letters, the Writing of by earlgreytea68 (G, 2,416 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Hiatus) – While he’s dead, Sherlock writes John letters. Part 1 of the Letters series

Let’s Say I Let You In by kedgeree (E, 9,972 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Halloween, Costume Kink, Est. Rel., Humour, Smut, Vampire Sherlock, Bloodplay, Biting, Romance) – It’s Halloween and Sherlock’s vampire costume is turning John on, but Sherlock doesn’t quite get the idea of a sexy vampire. At least…not at first. Part 4 of the Holidays series

Almost Home by Berty (E, 13,871 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Captain John, Pining John, University Student Sherlock, Gay Bar, First Time, Anal, Mutual Masturbation, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, POV John, Time Skips, Memories, Angst With Happy Ending) – He pulls out the ID card – the one that Sherlock had somehow seen when he was buying drinks at that awful club. He’s had other ID cards since then but he’s hung on to this one for some reason. He looks at the image of his face, young and pale and idealistic, and he knows that just a month later that man would have found and lost the love of his life within a week, and even knowing that, John wouldn’t change a single thing.

Heart on a String by AngelSpirit (E, 23,257 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, First Kiss / Time, Infidelity, Angst, Fluff, Kidlock/Teenlock, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use) – John and Sherlock got married with Cracker Jack rings when they were 7 yrs old. It wasn’t official, but for their whole lives they took it very seriously.

Common Tongues: Unassuming Brilliance by jinglebell (E, 41,174 w., 11 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Anal, Rimming, Snowballing, Language Kink, Blow Jobs, BAMF John, Size Difference, Height Difference, Sapiosexual Sherlock, Barebacking, Size Queen) – John may be predictably average in most things, but there are a handful of areas in which he knows he is uncommonly skilled. He can make a great cup of tea, for one. He’s also good at patching folks up, putting bullets precisely where he wants them, and listening.The one skill that John is perhaps most exceptional in, though, is language. John is a polyglot.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 43,936 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Time, Post-TRF) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. Post-Reichenbach.

Command Structure by 221b_hound (E, 49,034 w., 16 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF / Not S3 Compliant, Dom/Sub Play, Dom John/Sub Sherlock, Oral/Anal, Anal Fingering, Frottage, Past Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Captain Watson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Slow Build, PTSD Sherlock, Consensual, Past Dub Con, Rimming) – Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty’s network. He comes home to John, and at long last they start this thing between them that couldn’t begin while Moriarty threatened them. But Sherlock has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect. John Watson is prepared to be Sherlock’s Captain, but he’s a doctor too. His command style isn’t about pain and subjugation. It’s about care and responsibility: and those concepts go in both directions in Captain Watson’s command structure.

Saccharomyces cerevisiae (Baker’s Yeast) by yaycoffee (E, 60,879 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Unplanned Pregnancy / One Night Stand, Drunken Sex, First Kiss/Time, Bit of Case Fic, Sally/Sherlock Drunk Sex First Ch.) – Sometimes, one makes an imprudent decision born of a devastating combination of drink and sentiment. Sometimes, the consequences of that decision take on a life of their own. And sometimes, the facing of those consequences shapes every aspect of one’s life–from the hugely meaningful down to the seemingly insignificant. Part 1 of the Knows His Own series

Perpetual Motion by Fay (orphan_account) (E, 75,789 w., 31 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Romance, Unconventional Relationship, Renegotiation of Boundaries, Virgin Sherlock, Changing Sexuality, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Sex Toys, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Humour, Grieving, Light Bondage, First Kiss / Time, Hand Jobs, Quarrels, Shower Sex, Pillow Humping/Frottage, Oral Sex, Slight Self-Harm, Chastity Device) – Everyone thinks that they’re a couple, but Sherlock’s self-sexual and John’s straight, so they’re never going to fall in love, are they? Even if neither of them can imagine life without the other.

The Blog of Eugenia Watson by Mad_Lori (G, 95,026 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || OC POV, Parentlock, Teenagers, Diary / Blogging / Journal, Family, Humour) – I like to think of this not so much as a blog but as the first draft of my inevitably best-selling memoirs. My Life In an Unconventional Family. How unconventional? Well, I live with my divorced parents and my dad’s husband. How’s that for starters? Trust me, it gets weirder.My name is Eugenia Watson, but you can call me Genie. I’m sixteen. This is my life. Note: Work is marked complete for now and is on hiatus, having reached a convenient stopping point. Additional chapters may be added in the future.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.” Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Drift Compatible by J_Baillier (E, 130.380 w., 26 Ch. || Pacific Rim Fusion || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Family Drama, Accidental Telepathic Voyeurism, Martial Arts, Sci-Fi, Internalised Homophobia, Rubbish Siblings, Army Doctor John, Medical H/C, Bullying, Neurodiversity, PTSD, Drug Use, Depression, Mourning, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, UST/URT) – A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68 (M, 203,273 w., 57 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Parentlock, Cloning, Kidlock, Dev. Rel.) – The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street. Part 1 of Nature & Nurture

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #podfics #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec sunday

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mignonricciardo · 4 years

Text

promise: choi san

wow I've been so inactive on here its not even funny,,,,, college has been kicking my ass lowkey but i'm happy to be back writing!! this scenario is heavily inspired by ancient, east asian kingdoms, especially the three kingdoms period in korean history. obviously, this is a made up kingdom for my story which combines elements and words/names from chinese, japanese and korean cultures. this fic is so long omg I'm sorry. also, please ignore any mistakes lol it hasn't been edited because I need to study for finals. summary: wooyoung, the crown prince of the kingdom of tian, is childhood best friends with liutenant general choi san and court physician kitano asaki. when san is injured in an assassination attempt, true feelings will be revealed amid old flames.

My footsteps approach gently, echoing on the marble floor. The room is eerily quiet as Wooyoung sits with his head hanging low, fingers rubbing his temples. I stand before his throne, speaking quietly, ”Is your head bothering you again, Your Majesty?”

Wooyoung looks at me with a wince as the firelight invades his eyes. I quickly cover it with my hand, but he answers quickly with squinted eyes, “Yes, Miss Kitano, it is bothering me again. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I was unable to sleep because of it.”

”Do not be sorry, Your Majesty,” I bow gently before approaching the throne. I stand before the crown prince with eyes cast towards the floor. My fingers tremble as I extend the tray in my hands towards him, “It’s ginger tea with peppermint and feverfew. It will help your head, Your Majesty.”

”Thank you, Miss Kitano,” he reaches for the steaming cup, “but there is no need to be so formal at this hour.”

My eyes rise from the marbled floor to Wooyoung’s. He smiles gently before sipping from the tea. He sighs contentedly, “There is no one in this empire who can make a better cup of tea than you, Kitano. The court of Tian is lucky to have you.”

”Thank you,” I bow as he continues to drink the piping liquid. He sets the cup on a table next to him before turning to me with a grin. He clears his throat before turning to the two guards which accompanied him to the throne room, “You may leave the hall and return to your posts. Thank you for escorting me here and brining Miss Kitano to me.”

”But Your Majesty, we cannot leave you,” a guard answers, his head lowered in respect. Wooyoung waves his hand dismissively, “If I cannot make it back to my room after a discussion with Miss Kitano then I am not fit to rule this kingdom, wouldn’t you agree?”

Both of the guards stare in silence, and Wooyoung laughs in response, “Goodnight, men. You’ve worked hard.”

The two guards look to another before taking a deep bow before the crown prince. They exit the room in silence, their amor clinking down the hall, and Wooyoung watches their shadows disappear beyond the shoji screens. He takes another sip from the tea before massaging his right temple.

”Is it helping?”

He nods before looking to me with a grin, “You know what would help me more? If you told me about you and Lieutenant General Choi San.”

”Your Majesty!” I exclaim at his brazen comment.

”Please quit with the formalities, Kitano,” he almost whines. “I’ve known you since I was young. Please, at least call me by my last name.”

”It isn’t proper. You’re the crown prince, and I’m just a physician.”

”Please,” he whines. “Remember when you used to chase me though the palace cursing me? You’re my friend before anything.”

I take a moment to think about it, but ultimately, I break under his pleas, “Fine, but only because we grew up together, Wooyoung. If anyone were to hear me right now-“

”They won’t, Asaki,” he grins at our first name basis.

Wooyoung stands from the throne to sit on the marble steps just behind me. I turn to watch him sit, and he pats he spot next to him as a gesture for me to sit. I reluctantly follow his request and sit on the marble stoop. “Now,” he finishes the cup of tea before turning to me, “how is our dear friend Lieutenant General Choi San?”

”Fine, I suppose,” I answer. “He has been busy with training, especially with the threats from the northern kingdom.”

Wooyoung nods at my answer, “You’re still mad at him?”

”Is it obvious?” I ask, hanging my head low and rubbing my eyes. Wooyoung laughs gently, “You two are usually inseparable after your duties for the day are done. Lately, you’ve barely acknowledged each other when you pass in the palace.”

”It’s all his fault,” I mutter. “He was to be betrothed to the Marshal’s daughter. That would’ve gotten him so far in his career! Plus, she is a beautiful and talented woman. I’ve heard her skills on the guqin before. His social class would improve greatly as she is true nobility.”

”Our lieutenant general is an interesting man,” Wooyoung begins, rubbing his chin as he continues. “Surely the power and prestige that comes with that marriage is alluring, but Choi San has never been after authority and influence. While he would love to move through the ranks more than he already has, he is an honest man that wants to do so because he deserves it, not because of his father-in-law. Perhaps he simply does not love her.”

”How could he not love her? She is one of the most beautiful in all of Tian,” jealousy makes its way into my body, invading my veins and senses. Wooyoung places a hand on my shoulder, “External beauty is not everything to a man, Asaki. Especially a man like San.”

”She can give him the family he’s always wanted—everything he never had,” I whisper, fingers tracing the swirls on the marble floor.

”Why do you care so much about him refusing the marriage?” Wooyoung asks politely.

”He’s my best friend, Wooyoung,” I reply. “He was my everything growing up. I adored both of you as a child—you were like brothers I never had—but once you began attending to your royal duties, it was just me and him. I care about his life more than my own.”

”I know, Asaki,” he whispers quietly. “When disease spread through the camps three years ago, you did not sleep for three days in order to find a remedy once you heard San was seriously ill. You doted over his minor injuries from training, mendings gashes and tending to bruises. You stayed by his bedside for a week when he fell into a coma, fixing his dressings and feeding him.”

The throne room is eerily quiet at his words, and memories flood over me of the times where I feared for San’s well-being. Wooyoung and I sit in silence on the marble step, far removed from our childhood selves which shared this same setting. He speaks up after a moment, clearing his throat to get my attention, “Don’t you understand?”

”Understand what?” I ask, continuing to trace patterns on the cool marble beneath me. Wooyoung only laughs gently, an ambivalent smile across his cheeks, “You love him, Asaki. You love Choi San.”

”Of course I do,” I nearly scoff. “After everything we’ve been through, how could I not?”

”No,” Wooyoung shakes his head, dark brown hair swaying across shoulders, “you are in love with him.”

”How could I be in love with him? He’s like my brother,” I retort, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. Wooyoung stares at me intensely, “Have you ever kissed him?”

I begin to stumble over my words, but my cheeks glowing red give me away.

Wooyoung cheers loudly, but I quickly shush him, “I knew it! So, when did my two best friends—the lovebirds—kiss, hmm? Perhaps as young kids, maybe teenagers first experiencing love?”

”It happened more than once,” I mutter, keeping my voice barely audible. Wooyoung’s mouth falls open at the confession, “Stupid royal duties! I wouldn’t have missed so much. Tell me every time it happened!”

”We first kissed when we were young to be each other’s first kiss and get it over with,” I begin, heat rising up my neck and cheeks as my palms are splayed out against the cool marble. “When he first went away to the mountains to train, the first time he went off to war on a campaign, when he returned, a handful of other spare moments around the palace.”

Wooyoung gasps as he absorbs the information, “So you’re telling me you’ve kissed multiple times, and you guys left it at that?!”

”Would you stop yelling! It’s late,” I scold him. He feigns hurt at my scolding, but he continues to speak loudly, “I can’t believe you never told me. I could have you punished for lying to the crown prince.”

”Well, it’s over now anyways,” I whisper, disappointment weaving its way into my demeanor. “People have caught on to how good of a man he is. He’ll marry into a good family and have a loving wife who will be waiting for him to come home.”

Wooyoung shoots up from his position, leaping into the air before tuning to me, “Don’t you get it?!”

I look at him in confusion. Our eyes meet with an intensity as a broad grin resides on his face, “San is in love with you, too! He’s been turning down potential marriages and courtships for no apparent reason, but it’s because of you!”

”You’re wrong,” I sigh, standing from the step. I grab the tray I brought his tea on and look at him with a barely-there smile, “Your head seems to be feeling better, and considering how late it is, you should go to bed soon. Sleep will help with any lingering pain.”

”Asaki, trust me,” Wooyoung calls behind me as I leave the throne room. “Sleep on what I said!”

The walk back to my quarters is silent, allowing my mind to run rampant with thoughts about Wooyoung’s comments. The torches along the halls cast shadows along the shoji screens. My footsteps barely make noise in the sleeping palace. I arrive at my quarters, entering the workroom instead of my bedroom. The fire beneath the kettle illuminates the room in a vermillion glow as the scent of the tea I made Wooyoung permeates the room. I set the tray on the table before cleaning up the remnants of feverfew root and peppermint leaves. The flame beneath the kettle is extinguished. Tendrils of smoke reach towards the ceiling, wafting through the gentle glow of the candle on my desk. I carry the candle from the workroom to my bedroom, setting the flame next to my bed. The withered corners of letters stick out beneath the mattress. My fingers subconsciously reach for them, but I stop myself immediately. Wooyoung’s words play through my mind, swirling around me in the silent palace. The yellowed paper is crinkled between my fingers as I lift the stack to the bed. San’s slanted handwriting is faded on the yellowed paper, yet I begin rereading them one by one. Letters from training in the mountains, from being away at war, from being away from me. I pick up the most crinkled letter, one stained with tears atop smudged writing. I begin reading his words, transporting me to a time when things were easier.

I miss being a child. I miss sparring with Wooyoung while you cheered me on. I miss you bringing me cups of your father’s ginger tea. I miss being with you in the palace, not caring about anything except each other. I couldn’t wait to grow up and be a soldier to protect you, but now here I am, farther away than I’ve ever been. I’m not ready for this, Asaki. There is a war beyond my camp. I’m not scared of fighting or even dying, but I’m scared we will lose this war. If we lose, Tian will be destroyed. You will be gone. How can I feel at ease knowing you’re in danger? I kissed you goodbye incase I never get to see you again. You’re my everything, Asaki. My parents, my sister, my family, and my love. Everything I was missing in my life, you filled.

I feel like this letter is pathetic. I’m a soldier—I’m supposed to be a man—yet I’m terrified. I fear losing you, Asaki. Promise me you won’t wait for me to return. Keep training with your father to improve your healing skills. Remind Wooyoung just because he is royalty doesn’t mean you can’t beat him up with the skills I taught you. If I don’t return, forget about me. You deserve a long life full of happiness and love, not one of pain and longing. I want to return to you, Asaki, and tell you about the distant land I’m in. I want to bring you the rare plants growing here for your remedies. I want to give you the happiness you deserve.

The fire is dim. There are few people around—most are asleep. The generals have talked that our time is approaching. No matter what happens, I will always care for you, Asaki. Nothing in this world can change that. I hope I can return to you.

Choi San

I place the letter on my pillow, remembering the time when San first went to war. My reminiscing is interrupted by distant footsteps. They become louder and more frantic as they approach. My stomach lurches as the cries of doctor accompany the pounding footsteps. I jump up and open the door, coming face to face with two men in military uniforms. General Jung and Lieutenant Song stand before me, blood splashed across the chest of their uniform. I meet their eyes, and General Jung speaks first, “We need your assistance, Miss Kitano. There has been an assassination attempt. The perpetrators are dead and His Majesty is asleep, but we have an injured soldier.”

”Bring them to me,” I respond, squeezing between the two men towards the workroom. The two officers follow. I look at them expectantly, but Lieutenant Song speaks this time with hesitance, “It’s the lieutenant general, Miss Kitano. It’s Choi San.”

Dread fills my being as the mention of his name, and the two officers see the emotion written across my face. I quickly regain my composure, “Bring him here quickly. I will begin preparing treatment.”

I begin pulling anything I can find from the shelves. Multiple healing salves and ointments, supplies to stitch, dressings for any wounds, and acupuncture needles. As I arrange the supplies on my desk, the soldiers approach. San is propped between General Jung and Lieutenant Song, and a young soldier leads the way with a torch. San’s head hangs low, his eyes fluttering shut as his breathing grows ragged. They lay him on the bench along the wall, and I kneel at his side immediately. I begin inspecting the gash across his abdomen while asking the soldiers questions, “What happened?”

”Assassins infiltrated the palace walls. Young guards were the first to respond, but Choi San heard the struggle. He fought them singlehandedly until the General and I could arrive,” Lieutenant Song begins. “When we arrived, the lieutenant general was fighting with the final assassin. He killed him, but not before taking blows himself.”

”The assassins are from the northern kingdom, the Yong gang. They’re known for venomous weapons,” General Jung adds.

I reach for alcohol on the table and a clean cloth, “One of you put something in his mouth to bite on. He may wake up.”

The young soldier revealed as Jongho kneels by San’s head, listening to my instructions. I press the cloth soaked with alcohol to his wound, and a muffled groan resounds from San. Guilt erupts in my chest as he squirms beneath me, but I continue to hold the cloth to his lacerated abdomen. I speak to the general without ever tearing my eyes away from San, “The northern kingdom—it’s jincan, isn’t it?”

”Yes,” General Jung answers, “their blades are forged and coated with the venom.”

I reach for a salve on the table. The remedy is maroon in its glass jar, a thick paste to be applied to the wound. Lieutenant Song looks at the contents intently as my fingers scoop out some of the salve. His eyes narrow at the remedy, “What is it?”

”A series of medicinal herbs, myoga ginger, and jincan itself.”

San, barely conscious, hisses as my fingers gingerly spread the paste across his abdomen. My fingers are gentle against his skin as his chest rises and falls frantically. My left hand rests over his heart in an attempt to comfort him. Once the salve is spread across the wound, I cover it lightly in cloth. San’s eyes flutter open for a moment as retract my hand from his chest to stand. He reaches for it, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. My eyes meet his, hooded and barely open. His voice is raspy as he speaks, “Stay here, Asaki.”

”I’m not leaving,” I whisper back to him, fingers intertwining with his. A hint of a smile ghosts his lips before his eyes flutter shut. I place his hand at his side as he falls back into a slumber. His breathing returns to a steady rise and fall, so I stand to face the the soldiers behind me. General Jung begins, “I’m sorry we bothered you so late, but it was urgent.”

”Thank you for bringing him, General,” I answer, cleaning the remnants of the salve from my right hand. “Don’t feel as if you’ve bothered me. Caring for the sick and injured is my job.”

”Will he be okay?” Jongho asks urgently. I look at San’s still face, a feeling of dread overcoming me, “His wound is not very deep, but there is no guarantee. The jincan is an unpredictable poison, and the antidote is not always successful. Jincan can counterbalance itself through different forms and applications, so there is small amounts mixed into the salve I applied. Hopefully, it will draw the poison from his bloodstream.”

The three soldiers watch as I scurry about the room, cleaning the desk off and placing things back on to their respective shelves. Their eyes wander to their friend and comrade laying motionless against the wall. I turn to the men after clearing the work room, “I’ll need to watch him overnight. The salve needs reapplied every few hours.”

”Is there a more comfortable place for you both to rest?” Lieutenant Song asks. I nod my head, “My chambers are next door. My bed will be more comfortable than the bench he is on, and I will still be able to watch him with the work room in sight in case anything were to happen.”

Without another word, the general and the lieutenant lift San from the small bench, careful of the wound across his stomach. I fight back tears as his limp body is supported by the two men. Jongho places a hand on my shoulder to distract me from the sight, and I utter quiet gratitude. He helps me carry a few supplies to my bedroom, setting the contents on a tray as San is laid upon my bed. The three soldiers suddenly look worn, their uniforms torn and stained and their eyes wide with concern. I turn to them, voice stable despite my inner anxieties, “Return to your barracks for the night. There is nothing else you can do for him now. When His Majesty awakes in the morning, let him know of the situation. He will want to know.”

The three men bow before me, “Yes, Miss Kitano.”

They leave the room in silence. Their footsteps tap down the quiet halls as their shadows disappear behind the shoji walls. I kneel next to San, taking in his features as he sleeps. His long eyelashes rest against his cheek, and his lips are slightly ajar to take slow, deep breaths. Tendrils of long, raven hair fall from the barely there ponytail. My fingers shake the tie loose from his hair, letting all of his hair fall past his shoulders. I brush the locks of hair away from his face, whispering to myself, “How did you let this happen?”

For hours, there is nothing but the gentle breaths of an unconscious San. My eyes grow heavy with each passing hour, but I stay by his side, eyes never leaving his face. He looks peaceful as he sleeps—almost like the San I knew before war took his youth. I reach for his hand in front of me to feel the warmth of his skin once more, to remind myself he is still alive. I check the pulse at his wrist, feeling it grow stronger the longer the antidote sits atop his wound. I spoon small sips of medicinal tea between his parted lips—ginger and jujube to give him strength. I replace the dressings over his wound, applying more salve to the afflicted area. His skin is warm against my touch, tan skin stretched across defined muscle from years of training. Scars adorn his skin like medals of war. My fingers trace across them gently as tears rise in my eyes.

Before I can stop them, tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I hang my head low as tears drip from my chin. Some of them land on San’s chest, and I quickly wipe them away. My voice cracks as I whisper, “Why did this happen to us?”

As I become absorbed in my tears, I fail to notice San’s stirring. His eyes open to the image of me kneeling at his bedside, gripping his hand as I cry. The first thing he notices is the tears falling from my face, but as he reaches for me, the pain in his abdomen stops him. He gasps at the sensation, hand reaching for the afflicted area. As his hand brushes over the cloth covering his stomach, my eyes search for his face. A sense of relief floods me when I see his open eyes. Tears continue to stream down my face, but they’ve turned to ones of happiness. My hands catch his right hand resting atop his abdomen, and I look at him through a watery gaze, “How are you feeling?”

”I’ve felt better,” he responds, trying to sit up in the bed. He groans as he moves, so I quickly help him. I use pillows to prop him against the wall. My fingers gently pull his long hair away from his face, twisting it behind his back. He catches my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks in his palms, “Why are you crying?”

”I thought you were going to die, you idiot,” I respond angrily, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. His thumbs gently wipe beneath my eyes, catching hot tears against his skin. I relish in his touch for a moment, losing myself in the present before breaking away. I reach for the cup of tea that has been continually reheated over the night, feeling more confident in my words when my eyes are not meeting his, “It was people from the northern kingdom. You have jincan in your veins.”

I place the cup at his lips, tipping it forward gently for him to take a sip. He sighs as he tastes the brew, settling into the pillows behind him. San’s voice is raspy as he speaks, “How bad is it?”

”Not too deep, so I could manage. Your pulse is much stronger now. The antidote is working,” I mutter, refusing to meet his eyes.

He catches on to my demeanor immediately, noticing my distant gaze and short responses. He sighs quietly at he speaks, “So you’re still mad at me?”

I turn to him at his comment, “You’ve nearly died tonight, and that’s what your worried about?”

”I can’t die knowing you’re angry at me,” he retorts with a grin, but it quickly fades to a grimace as the pain intensified. I instinctively reach for his hands to keep him from touching his abdomen. Our eyes lock on to our joined hands before meeting each other.

My voice wavers under the intensity of his stare, “Do you know how sick I am of having your blood on my hands?”

”I’d rather it be mine than your’s,” he answers immediately, eyes never leaving mine.

Our fingers intertwine atop his chest. Tears continue to fall from my eyes as both anger and relief flood my veins. The two conflict, anger fighting from the brain and relief from the heart. My words are barely audible beneath my tears, “Why didn’t you marry her? You wouldn’t have been on duty tonight. You wouldn’t have nearly died.”

”A true soldier must be able to fight, Asaki,” San grits his teeth. “What would I be if I married to keep myself from protecting those who need it most?”

”You’d be just like everyone else in this palace,” I retort, anger and annoyance dripping from my words. San releases my hands, shaking his head, “It’s going to change, Asaki. Once Wooyoung is coronated, he will be our king—the ruler Tian needs. Things are going to change. This palace will be filled with the righteous, the courageous, the just, and the selfless.”

”And where does that leave you?” Tears overwhelm my words, “Leading men on the frontlines into war, offering your life to save others, placing a target on your back?”

”Asaki,” he reaches for me, but I twist away from his grasp.

I stand from the bedside, approaching the door which leads to the work room. My feet pause at the threshold, back facing him. I turn to my head to barely see him form the corner of my eye, “I’m getting more tea to help with the pain.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I am already shutting the door behind me. I lean against the door, sliding down until I’m hugging my knees. My face is buried in my dress to muffle my sobs.

San curses himself as the door shuts, throwing his head back into the pillows. He lifts the corner of the cloth covering his abdomen, peeking at the wound beneath it. He shifts in the bed, hissing at the pain at his stomach. While moving, he hears the crinkling of paper. He glances around the room, but he doesn’t find anything. His left hand reaches down from the bed, fingertips running across the smooth floor. Once his fingers hit a stack of papers, he furrows his brows as he pulls it to his lap. Recognition lights up his eyes as he takes in the slanted writing. Although faded with time and tears, he can still decipher the messy characters on the yellowed page. His fingers gently trace across the page as he reads his old letters, reminiscing in a time when things seemed simpler.

I want to bring you to these mountains one day. The monks said the chrysanthemums here are the most beautiful in all of Tian. I’ve only seen the dried ones you and your father have brought into the palace, so I don’t know what they look like alive, but they are beautiful. We should come here when we’re older. I’ll let you decide if they're Tian’s most beautiful.

He flips to another letter.

I’m almost done with training here, Asaki. I’ll come home to you soon. There’s rumors of a war brewing between Tian and the southern states, but the monks think King Baekgu will end the conflict with diplomacy. Remind Wooyoung not to get too comfortable in that palace because I’ll be back to tease him soon, even if he is the prince.

San continues through the stack.

How is Wooyoung? I’ve just received word about his father, His Majesty. I don’t think I can attend the funeral—the monks are keeping us to train for longer because of the looming war. Please tell him I’m sorry, Asaki. Be strong for him. Be strong for me. I’ll write to you soon.

He smiles as he reads the letter, remembering how he spent time to make his handwriting neat.

It’s lonely here, Asaki. Grown men cry because they miss their wives, their children, and their lovers. They cry because no one know if they will return home to them. We have each other, but this isn’t home. It never will be. Home is back in Tian, not these mountains of the south. My home isn’t even in the capitol or the palace—it’s with you. You are my home, Asaki. This time apart has made me realize that. Have you grown since I’ve last seen you? I’m taller now, and my hair is longer. My voice is deeper, too. Maybe you won’t even recognize me when I return. But then I ask myself the same thing about you. Would I recognize you when I return? Surely, I would know it’s you, right? I could never forget you, just as one can’t forget his home.

San feels tears well in his eyes as a more recent letter appears, one from only a year prior.

I wanted you to hear this from me, Asaki, even if it’s painful. I’ve been injured at war, and the doctors say it does not look too good for me. They said infection has set in. I know what that means for me. I guess I spent too much time around your father. I don’t know why I’ve waited to say this, maybe it’s because of the distance that’s grown between us as we’ve grown older, but I need to tell you at least once. You’re my will to live, Asaki. You’re the only thing I can think of as I try to fight this. I feel like I’m young again as I’m overcome with thoughts of you. I wish I could see you once more, even if it’s only in my dreams. Don’t wait to see me again, because I fear you won’t. Keep living, Asaki. Do it for those who can’t.

San sighs as he relives the moments he wrote this letter, but an itch near his foot distracts him. He reaches to scratch his foot, but his fingers brush against another piece of paper. The paper is yellowed with age and more crinkled than the rest. It’s ink is faded.

I kissed you goodbye incase I never get to see you again. You’re my everything, Asaki. My parents, my sister, my family, and my love. Everything I was missing in my life, you filled...

...You deserve a long life full of happiness and love, not one of pain and longing. I want to return to you, Asaki, and tell you about the distant land I’m in. I want to bring you the rare plants growing here for your remedies. I want to give you the happiness you deserve.

Once my tears have been dried, I brew another cup of tea for San. The contents spread warmth through my fingers, and I relish in the feeling as I approach the door that leads back to San. I take a deep breath as I pass through, unaware of San’s rereading of his letters. I freeze in my tracks when I see the crinkled paper between his fingers. Tears threaten to spill over his eyes. He looks from the letters to my face, and a single tear makes its way down his cheek. His voice wavers, “You still have these?”

Instead of answering, I set the tray down next to the bed and gather the withered letters. My voice is angry as I respond, “Why are you reading them?”

”Because you had been,” he catches my hand in his. “They were out. Why?”

For a moment my fingers tremble as they grip the crinkled paper, but I lose my strength and my defenses go crumbling. The letters fall from my fingertips as my hand falls atop the bed. I sigh as I avoid San’s gaze, “I spoke with Wooyoung earlier. He wanted to talk about you, especially you and me.”

”And why would he want to do that?” San whispers, tilting my chin to meet his eyes with his free hand.

His fingertips are gentle against my skin, yet electricity crackles beneath his touch. Warmth spreads where our skin meets. His eyes gaze into mine intently as I whisper, “He thinks we’re in love with each other.”

”Are we not?” His voice is barely a whisper.

I open my mouth to respond, but my brain is devoid of an answer. He shifts in the bed, sitting up to be closer to me. His fingers brush hair away from my face, tucking long stands behind my ear. My voice is unsteady as I answer, focused on his touch rather than my words, “San I-“

”I’ve loved you since I was a child in this very palace,” San begins, confidence behind his every word. “I was the son of a simple palace maid who died long before I could remember her and a noble father that wanted nothing to do with me. The royal family only kept me here out of pity, but you saw me as more than that. You were my first real friend, first kiss, first love—my everything.”

Tears threaten to spill over my eyes as my voice wavers, “Of course I love you, San. How could I not?”

”Then what’s keeping us apart?” San whispers, fingertips wiping tears from my cheeks.

”You deserve better than this, San,” I whisper. “You deserve to marry into a noble family with military connections. You deserve to have a wife that’ll be waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. You deserve to have the family you’ve always dreamed of.”

”I want that with you, Asaki.”

His words stop my breathing and my heart stalls in my chest. A sincerity lingers in his eyes. His palm rests against my cheek, fingers weaving through the hair behind my hair, “It’s always been you.”

San’s lips meet mine gently, feathery touches against my own. My hands rest against his chest, fingers pressing against his skin. When our lips separate, I can’t help but miss the invasion of space.

”I missed those,” I whisper, fingers tapping against his chest.

”Can’t you see you’re the future I’ve always wanted?” San says gently. “I can’t do this without you by my side.”

”San, I-“

”Please, Asaki,” he nearly begs. “You still love me—you’ve admitted it. Just give me this chance.”

”It’s not that easy, San,” I whisper. “For years I’ve been telling myself it wouldn’t work.”

”Then let me show you,” his voice is low and raspy. His hands brush hair from my shoulder to reveal my neck. Fingertips slide down my neck slowly, creeping beneath the neckline of my dress to trace along my collarbone. My breath catches in my throat as goosebumps rise across my body. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to focus, “This isn’t proper, San. There’s already going to be rumors tomorrow because you’re sleeping here.”

”Then let’s make it proper,” he smirks. “Let’s court properly.”

”You think a simple kiss and teasing touches will change my mind altogether?”

He scrunches his eyebrows in deep concentration at my comment, “Then how do I change your mind?”

Thoughts fly though my mind, but nothing sticks out. Instead of answering his question, I reflect on the fears I have surrounding him. Stark honesty relays my words, “I’m scared, San. I’m scared I’m going to lose you. I’m scared I’m going to mess this up and not have you in my life anymore. I’m scared I’m going to lose you like I almost did tonight. I’m scared of the unknown.”

”You’ve had me since we were children,” he begins, fingers playing with the ends of my hair. “No matter what happens, you’re never going to lose me. You’re the reason I must survive. I promised your father I would protect you.”

My heart drops at the mention of my late father. San’s fingers intertwine with mine as he continues, “He approved, you know. He told me he wanted me to marry you because he knew I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

”He wanted this?” I choke on my words. San pulls me in for a hug as my eyes water, “I promised him I’d never give up on you. He could see since we were children that I loved you, and he left this world knowing I still loved you. He left you knowing that there was love for you, Asaki.”

My face is buried in San’s neck, tears dripping onto his skin and long raven hair. The immense comfort in San’s arms is overwhelming, yet no part of me wants to let go. There’s a familiarity in his embrace. I feel safe in his arms. It hits me as I stay locked in his arms. My voice blurts out before my mind even processes it, “I love you, San. I always have, and I always will. I want—need—you by my side.”

We break away from our hug, and a hopeful gaze lights up his face, “I promise to never leave it as long as you’ll keep me there.”

”Forever,” I whisper. “I want you there forever.”

”Anything for you,” he says quickly.

Our lips meet suddenly, passion weaving its way between us. The kiss is more intense the previous one, filled with wandering hands and clashing tongues. My cheeks glow red as San’s fingers wander across my chest. His barely-there touches are enough to keep me on edge, waiting for his next move. My patience runs thin as my palms splay out against his chest and my lips move to his neck. A stifled groan falls from his mouth, and his voice is strained and breathless as he speaks, “So much for being proper.”

”You started it,” I mutter, lips returning to his collarbone.

”And I plan on finishing it, too,” he smirks, bringing my attention back to his lips. I lean into him, smiling through the kiss when our lips meet. His hands grip my hips roughly, fingertips grasping at the fabric at my waist. We become lost in each other, ignoring every part of our surrounding besides each other. Our oblivion leads to Wooyoung approaching the door with hopes to see San recovering. We fail to hear the door open.

”Asaki, is San alr-“

San and I break away from each other, but it is too late. Wooyoung stands at the door with two palace guards behind him. He looks at the two men, instructing them to wait at the end of the hall for his return. They follow commands diligently as their footsteps fade away. The crown prince turns back to us with a devious smirk, “So, I entrust the well-being of San with you, Asaki, and I see you keeping him awake in his weakened state.”

”Wooyoung,” I groan, but it is no use. He approaches us with a grin, “I can’t believe I caught my two best friends engaging in improper behavior within the palace walls.”

”It’s my fault,” San smirks as he combs his fingers through my hair to smooth it out. “I couldn’t contain my excitement.”

Wooyoung smiles, “I’m assuming you’ve finally accepted each other then?”

We nod slowly, and Wooyoung smiles even wider, “I’m happy to see you’re alright, San, but I’m even happier to see you together.”

San and I thank him. He approaches the door slowly, “With that being said, I’ll leave you two for the night. Just remember, rumors spread quickly though the palace. The maids love to gossip.”

”Don’t worry, Wooyoung,” San grins, looking at me with adoration in his eyes. “I plan on making the marriage rumors true.”

”I can always have you moved from the barracks to a room with our dear physician,” Wooyoung smirks. “Goodnight you lovebirds. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

Wooyoung leaves the room. San and I are left next to each other on the bed. Early morning light pours through window, and I yawn as a bird erupts in song. San suddenly notices the dark bags beneath my eyes.

”Have you slept at all tonight?” his voice is filled with worry and guilt.

I shake my head, “I was too worried looking after you.”

”Let’s sleep,” he whispers. “We can talk about everything else later. Besides, we need to be well-rested to put up with Wooyoung today.”

I nod, preparing to stand and sleep across the room on a makeshift mattress. San grabs my hand, pulling me into him as he collapses against the bed. I find myself pressed against his side and head resting on his chest. He sighs contently at the position, “I’ll wake you later. Get some sleep for now.”

”You’re comfortable? Your stomach doesn’t hurt?” I ask worriedly. He shakes his head, “I promise, Asaki. Now go to sleep.”

My eyes are already drifting shut as I murmur, “I love you.”

”I love you,” he responds, a broad smile on his face. “Forever.”

#ateez scenarios #san scenarios #ateez smut #ateez angst #wooyoung scenarios #san angst #san smut

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carterhaughs · 5 years

Text

vir lath sa’vunin

The end of the Fifth Blight heralds a new dawn for Ferelden and her peoples, but consolidating support for the young new king will not be easy, and rebuilding would be an arduous task even without the threat of residual darkspawn and fresh new horrors lingering in the wake of the Archdemon. Aelinor Surana and Alistair Theirin will need all the strength, savvy, cunning, and knowledge they can muster if they are to heal their country's hurts. With help from friends new and old and their love for each other, they will face down adversity as they always have: together.

Read @ Ao3

Note: "Vir Lath Sa'vunin" is a line from Leliana's Song - the one she sings to the warden after Zathrian and/or the Lady of the Forest die during the Nature of the Beast quest line. It is an old elven song that Keeper Lanaya may share with you in the form of a codex entry. The line means "we love one more day."

Relevant to this chapter: There is an actual in-game conversation you can have with Anora in which she will directly ask you if you and Alistair are together. It really took me off guard because in my playthrough I was careful not to mention anything to Anora about Alistair other than that I think he would make a better king than she thought. But she was too sharp for my love to go unnoticed lol. You can see that conversation here.

Chapter 3: A Fereldan’s Best Friend

Aelinor entered after the announcement of the arls and teyrns in attendance but before the banns. Traditionally, the king’s chamberlain would have been second only to the king, but she had feared seeming too much of an upstart by taking her place at his side, much as he had wished her to dare it. She had become chamberlain during his coronation ceremony and like his kingship it had been openly communicated to the rest of the kingdom, but there had been no separate ceremony conferring the title and responsibilities on her. This would be her first formal appearance as the chamberlain and with so many visiting dignitaries present, she could scarce afford to make mistakes.

She came in through a side door with little fanfare from the major domo as per her request, and bowing to the king, attempted to melt into the crowd and mingle with Leliana’s advice in mind. She could feel many sets of eyes on her, leering, appraising, disdaining. Her heartbeat fluttered in her throat, but she kept her spine straight and her gaze level. There were no mages here, and the only elf besides herself in attendance was Shianni, but there were a few other familiar faces. Her background being what it was and feeling the need to justify it, she inhaled deeply and approached the gaggle of chantry sisters first.

“Sister Justine!” Aelinor inclined her head in the direction of the Denerim Chantry’s curator, who was surrounded by a number of other church officials deep in conversation. “How are your studies progressing?” Sister Justine smiled and motioned her closer. Her dark blond hair was elegantly braided as usual, though there were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Ever since the discovery of the Sacred Ashes’ final resting place she had likely been burning the candle at both ends.

“Lady Surana, come, we were just discussing the latest excavation in the old temple above Haven. The etchings we have made of verses long lost from the Chant are an archivist’s dream–both those you found, and those Brother Genitivi and many others have uncovered since.”

“Long lost? Or stricken?” remarked one of the other sisters with a sour expression. Justine raised an eyebrow at her.

“Wilhelmina, you know very well none of them connect to any of the Dissonant Verses, or perhaps to any verses we know of at all. Taking joy in their recovery is far from controversial.” Wilhelmina sniffed but said no more, narrowing her eyes at Aelinor. Being an elf and a mage and a public official, she was a flagrant offense to the natural order of things most conservative Andrastians adhered to, so it was hardly surprising.

“I can understand Sister Wilhelmina’s caution,” Aelinor said, hoping she would seem reasonable rather than sycophantic, little as she cared to appeal to someone so ready to hate her. “I did find a great deal of these writings in the den of dragon cultists, after all. But so long as we have veteran researchers like Sister Justine and her fellow scholars on hand, I trust they will parse the truth from the apocryphal. In any case, the authenticity of the ashes themselves can hardly be doubted. Without them, all of Denerim may have been corrupted by the Blight now, so I think we can all agree that the Maker had a hand in our deliverance, regardless of what may yet be discovered.” Though Wilhelmina stared her down obstinately, many of the other sisters looked at her thoughtfully or even nodded enthusiastically as Justine did. Leliana’s advice was working like a charm.

Suddenly all the sisters about her were bowing, and Aelinor turned to find that Alistair was standing right behind her, clad in leathers threaded with the strong geometric designs characteristic of the Alamarri. She bowed herself even as she sighed inwardly. He had not held out for very long.

“Your Majesty?”

“My dear sisters of the Chantry, I must allow you to excuse Lady Surana for a moment, as Arl Wulff desires her audience.”

“Yes, of course, King Alistair,” said Sister Justine. “Thank you again to you both for your service to the Chantry. I very much look forward to sharing my findings with you in the weeks and months to come.” Aelinor nodded and moved to Alistair’s side as they walked away. The dining hall was vast and Arl Wulff was located conveniently at its far end.

She noticed Alistair’s arm twitch at his side, no doubt out of force of habit. When they walked alone together, it was rare indeed that he did not take her arm in his own.

“Alistair...”

“Yes, my dear, I know,” he whispered. “I know being within twenty feet of me in the public eye makes you uncomfortable, but people will talk no matter what. We do not need to be miserable, merely professional.” She looked up at his face, but he was staring straight ahead and talking out of the corner of his mouth. So Leliana had managed to get through to him too. She smiled.

“No, you’re right. There have been few female chamberlains in the history of the country in any case, much less mage or elven individuals who have held the position, male or female. They were always going to talk. We can enjoy each other’s company even in public if we are discreet, which you have been. I am grateful for it.” He nodded slightly, and could not suppress a half-smile from quirking the edge of his lips.

“You should be. It’s all I can do not to kiss you right now.” She could feel her flush creeping up the back of her neck again and blessed the high embroidered collar she wore for covering up the worst of it.

“Not to worry, Your Majesty...I’ll be certain to show you how grateful I am once we’re alone.” Alistair said nothing to that and instead cleared his throat a bit too loudly and placed his hand for the briefest of moments at the small of her back, guiding her toward the upper right corner of the room below the dais where the Arl of the West Hills commanded a lively group of nobles. They quieted and bowed at the king’s approach, eying her with curiosity.

“My chamberlain, Lady Aelinor Surana.” She curtsied, and meeting their gazes afterward was not nearly as daunting as she had thought it would be. Of course, it helped to have the king at her side, but this crowd in general seemed to take her presence in better humor than many in attendance.

“How fare the West Hills, Arl Wullf?” she asked. The south had taken the brunt of the horde’s incursion, and would be slow to recover. But she did not want to shy away from the obvious.

“Poorly,” he replied, “but improving with the help of the capital. There is green there still, and the fall will yield a harvest. In the meantime, your efforts with the dwarves to lower the price of provisions for us in the Frostbacks have proven most helpful. And the horde itself is all but vanquished.”

“And yet,” said a new voice in careful, even tones, “is not much of the ‘help of the capital’ owed to Orlais? For it is their Wardens who have bivouacked there with the king’s approval.”

A new face emerged from the crowd, fair-skinned and clear-complexioned. Anora Mac Tir. Aelinor turned and regarded her levelly, but without malice.

“Lady Mac Tir, I need not remind you that while the Wardens have historically overstepped their bounds on certain occasions, their loyalty has always been to themselves and to their mission of protection against the Blight. In the West Hills, the Blight remains and is combated with their help. There is no ambiguity in it in my accounting, but I invite you to find some yourself, should you seek it.”

“If you don’t trust the Wardens’ understanding of it, I wonder what you consider mine, Anora?” Arl Wulff added gruffly. “The self-important prattle of an old man who seeks to solicit favors for his holdings? If you don’t believe me, visit my arling or any portion of the south yourself. The farmers fending off raiding parties and dying of plague will surely lay your suspicions to rest.”

“I did not mean to question the gravity of your situation,” Anora replied coolly. “Merely to point out how easily the enemy might move on us once these Wardens overstay their welcome.”

“Regardless of the loyalty of the Orlesian Wardens, under other circumstances Ferelden would have had its own force,” Alistair cut in, voice hard and sharp with anger. “But fate would have it otherwise, it seems.”

“Indeed,” replied Anora. “Fate would have them on the throne and in the palace chambers.”

Aelinor controlled her sharp intake of breath even as her heart pounded in her ears. Anora had baldly put the question to her prior to the Landsmeet–did she have feelings for Alistair, given the way she spoke of him in such glowing terms? Why did she believe an inexperienced and naive young man like himself could be king? Aelinor had merely replied that she thought Alistair would make a better king than Anora believed and the then-queen had let the matter drop. But of course, she had held onto her read on the situation. It was correct, after all. And Aelinor almost laughed aloud at the pun and how it could be taken as merely a statement of truth or as a double-entendre: a chamberlain in the palace chambers. It was meant to get a rise out of her and Alistair, but she would not let it. Hopefully, Leliana had schooled him well enough that it would not get to him either. She would have put a hand on his shoulder to remind him of the necessity of restraint but of course that would have just put proof to Anora’s thinly veiled accusation.

But before she could so much as speak, there was a commotion in the small crowd as her mabari barreled through the assembled nobles to reach her side, bumping his muzzle against her hand and squeezing in between herself and Alistair.

“What are you doing here, boy?” she said sharply. He wagged his tail and barked with gusto, then looked up at the rest of the crowd with dark, liquid eyes suggesting an innocence Aelinor knew he did not have. “Well, as he seems to have introduced himself without all due courtesy, I shall do my best to atone for him on his behalf. This is my mabari, Shadow. I managed to heal him of the Taint he contracted at Ostagar and he’s followed me ever since.”

Arl Wulff crouched down to get a better look at him and Shadow barked excitedly. “A fine beast. If I am not mistaken, he has recently sired several litters of puppies known for their resilience and ferocity as much as their sweet temper. I gave one such whelp to my daughter.”

Aelinor smiled, grateful for the sudden change in topic. Shadow was a sly creature, indeed. “Yes, he’s been helping to replenish the kennels here in Denerim when he is not at my side. His mate is Bertie, a bitch from the long line of Theirin hounds.” The other nobles gathered around eagerly to ask more questions about his pedigree and the line he was sire to, and Anora’s slight seemed all but forgotten. Aelinor looked for her in the crowd, but she was gone.

“Bertie?” asked Arl Wulff, no doubt amused at so plebian a title for a descendent of the likes of “Sentinel,” and “Duchess.”

Alistair grinned. “Yes, short for Camembertie.” His stomach growled audibly and he leaned over Shadow to speak to Aelinor above the vigorous mabari breeding discussion Shadow’s entrance had set off. “It will be time for dinner soon, thank the Maker. I wasn’t sure how much more of that I could take, but you weathered it well.”

“I’m sure we’ve not seen the last of it,” Aelinor replied, scanning the crowd for Anora and finding her near the group of chantry sisters she’d spoken with earlier. “But I think we managed to make a case for ourselves and maintain our dignity. It wasn’t just my doing, either, Alistair.”

“No, of course not! Shadow takes the lion’s share of the credit.” She rolled her eyes but his slight smile and the gentle tilt of his head in her direction told her that he knew he had done well and that her assurance was enough.

#alistair theirin #female warden #warden surana #alistair x warden #alistair x surana #intrigue! romance! dogs!#what more could you ask for

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