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calisources · 1 month

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𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taking from different media and literature, movies and more regarding the topic of mistresses and favorites, mostly in the setting of royal court but can also be adjusted to other time periods. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit. Some of these include foul language, so beware. Implications of cheating are also in these.

You are my king, Niko, and I need you.

Everything I say is obeyed; everything I want is given to me.

You are such hard work to seduce, Niko.

She wanted to sit ON him, not next to him.

Never underestimate the power of a woman's intuition.

Behind every great king, there is a great queen. And behind them, there is a mistress.

The King is allowed to have as many favorite as he pleases.

A queen is never without her secrets.

A woman's beauty is her greatest weapon, use it wisely.

Rules are meant to be broken, especially by queens.

Queens do not beg for love, they command it.

Have as many bedwarmers as you wish, but I am your wife and you will not humiliate me.

A queen's grace can disarm her enemies.

He will grow tire of you, as he does with the others.

Having an ugly mistress is therefore a fatal mistake.

When a man takes a mistress, he doesn't turn around and divorce his wife.

Finding out that you are not your lover’s only lover hurts.

But a mistress can do interesting thing with food. Shall I describe them?

You will come back to the castle with me.

I-I'm not your responsibility.

You are mine. They gave you to me, remember? And I want to keep you.

Your Grace---I am a virgin.

I realize that, and it pleases me. You do not doubt that I can be gentle with you?

They say you grow tire after the first night. No mistress last longer than a night with the king.

I know what you are trying to do, but do not think to take the King away from me. Let him play with you.

Done being sore yet, by chance?

From a mistresses’s perspective, taken men are low maintenance. All they want is sex, sex, sex.

Do not take it harshly. It’s only flesh. And a body wants what it wants.

Kings have mistresses, Queens have secrets and they die with them.

To be the mistress of a married man is to have the better role.

The role of a mistress if make a man’s mood change and send him happy to his wife.

Don't be mad at a hoe for doing what she does best, besides it's not her that owes you that loyalty.

It was not a request. I will take you to bed and make you mine.

My wife has no interest in my bed, butb I assure you, my bed has interest in you.

Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses.

I don't want her to know the truth about us.

They know about us and they do not care. My wife does not mind to share.

As long as I do my duty, I am allowed to do who I please.

This absurd jealousy.

A mistress should be like a little oasis, refreshing and exciting, away from the mundane realities of life

The bedchamber is where political alliances are sealed, and where empires are born.

A king may rule a nation, but a woman's allure can conquer the king.

Behind every great king, there are the whispers of his mistresses.

The allure of a mistress lies not only in her beauty, but in her ability to manipulate.

A mistress must be both lover and confidante, juggling passion and secrecy.

In the court of kings, a mistress can become more powerful than a queen.

He is one of his favorites, and everyone knows it. You must become his favorite too.

In the arms of a mistress, a king can escape the weight of his crown.

I want more than this. You cannot offer me more than secret meetings and a warm bed. People whisper.

You can be my wife here.

If I desire to marry someone else, would I be allowed or you would not let me?

I'll take you as my only mistress. I won't have a thought or an affection for anyone else.

I call Mary my English mare, because I ride her so often.

He cannot give you his true heart... for *I* have that in my keeping.

You can't have 3 people in a marriage!

Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems, I love poems. Ravish me with your words. Seduce me.

You've taken her honor!

I swear to your grace, someone else was there before me.

They say all his liaisons are soon over. He blows hot, he blows cold.

Sometimes I believe you will grow tire of me. But then I find you here in my bed.

If I cannot please the King, will he kill me?

You must not touch me, for Caesar’s I am.

Everyone knew she was his queen and wife in anything but name.

You will have this orgasm if it’s the last thing I do.

What happened to the art of seduction? A woman enjoys being seduced.

I will not be the laughing stock of the realm. A woman who can only be a lover, never a wife.

I found her a very beautiful young woman with a very sweet and yielding disposition, She confessed to great admiration for Your Majesty. Should I, arrange ...?

If you put the Queen aside for this affair, the kingdom will fall apart.

If you seek Your Grace, you know where to find him.

I trust his mistress more than I trust any man on this table.

My husband is extremely jealous. Wants me sent to a nunnery.

I am with child. It is His Majesty's child.

Slow down so I can see how you do it.

Think of this as training. For your future husband’s pleasure. And mine.

should like to be your wife in every way.

I was wondering if you'd like to become my mistress.

You like to board other men's boats.

You know perfectly well what the King desires and what he shall have.

I saw with my own eyes how attentive he is to you.

My only satisfaction is that in frustrating you, I hasten your fall from the King's good graces.

Any man is weak against a maiden’s magic. Alluring and sweet. Like spring.

I make you this promise. When we are married, I will deliver you a son.

I have yet to decide whether to make your bedmate a head shorter.

So you can have your lovers and I have my own, but at the end, we return to one another.

If you are not careful and a bastard is conceived, you will be ruined.

Everything will change for her. That kiss is her destiny and fortune.

So, what about this girl, this putain, the king's whore? Why doesn't somebody just get rid of her?

Have any of the women you've bedded with lied about their virginity?

Pretty, witty Nell, don’t forget you are mine until I say so.

Do you seriously expect me to be the first Prince of Wales in history not to have a mistress?

I will teach you many things, how to please a man and in turn, you will be my eyes and ears in court.

I thought you wished for us to be over.

How can I when you plague my mind at every turn.

Let me have you, at least once. Many women would consider it an honor.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #mistresses meme #royal scandal meme #mistress meme

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gg-pedro · 3 months

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can you hear the music (ch. 3) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 3: today, it would be sarah's 34th birthday. but today, tomorrow, and every other day, joel needs you.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, smoochin', gropin', mentions of death, joel grieves, joel sings, arguing/fighting (kinda), mental health discussions, lewdness, angst, heavy feelings (and there's more where that come from!)

words: 3.4k

a/n: man. can u tell I rewatched episode 1? i’m proud of this one. also, I hope this reaches my fleetwood mac lovers.

Joel, while in the middle of hauling a bag of horse feed over his good shoulder (and ‘good’ was being generous), realized he was getting old. This was the tenth revelation of the day, give or take. From when he forced himself out of bed onto aching joints, to when he hadn’t heard Ellie come up behind him in the kitchen, and most notably, to when he realized Sarah’s 34th birthday would’ve been today.

It didn’t sting anymore. Not after this long, not after 20 years. It didn’t even hurt.

It just ached.

He sloughed the feed into the trough, stepping back to catch his breath. He glided his hand over the pretty little mare that he usually took out. She seemed too small to not be a pony, but hey, equine standards had flown out the window 20 years ago along with everything else.

Tommy knew, too. He never forgot. Maybe that's why he patted Joel on the back at breakfast that morning and told him to go ‘take a ride’. Clear his head. They still had work to do today. The Earth never stopped spinning. Joel thought that by now, it should’ve.

To be fair, the date could’ve been a little off, but the air was that same lukewarm cold and the sun shone blinding in a clear blue sky the same way it did on the day Sarah was born. Winter was melting into a tepid spring in Wyoming, and Joel was still here to fucking see it.

For a second he wondered if his vision was going, too, having to do a double-take when he noticed you leaning against the wooden beam of the stall entrance.

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Y’ever heard of knocking?”

You rolled your eyes. “Must’ve missed the door.”

“How’d you find me?” He asked, finally turning to really look at you. Irritatingly beautiful.

“Ellie,” you answered. “Said you were going for a joy ride.”

He sighed, coming over to wrap his arms just below the dip of your spine. “Kid couldn’t keep a secret if her fuckin’ life depended on it,” he grumbled, pausing afterwards to give you a slow kiss.

“I like the honesty. She’s got nothing to hide, especially if it has anything to do with you.” You grinned and fell right into his little ploy.

“Mmh. Lucky me.”

He had you backed against the wooden railing in an instant, his hand creeping up below your shirt and onto the soft skin of your waist. The touch raised goosebumps all over your body. You placed two hands on either side of his neck, gently, enjoying the way he was feeling you up with his lips glued to yours.

“Now? Right here?” You asked once you had the chance to break away from his mouth. “A little risky, Miller. Don’t forget, I’m still your worst kept secret,” you chided.

“No, not right here. And fuck you.” He pulled away until all but one hand was still stroking your side through your shirt.

“Likewise.”

And Joel loved you. Maybe not in the same way he loved Tommy or Ellie or Sarah, but still, he did. He loved your smart mouth, the way you blazed like a fire in bed with him, your natural talent, the way you made it all ache less.

And you did– make it ache less. That was reason enough.

He gestured to the horse that was a few feet away, still eating its breakfast. “You wanna join?”

“Can’t say no,” you said. “What’s the occasion? I thought they were strict about leaving for non-essential reasons.”

Joel was looking at you until he wasn’t, his gaze going right through you. He could tell you. He knew he could. You knew about his daughter and you still never brought it up. You’d lost people too, he knew that. He could tell you and you would bring him into your arms and say something like, I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m here. I’m here if you need me.

He would tell you. But not today.

He shrugged and pressed a kiss into your hairline. “Just another day. I want you to come.”

“Alright, then.” You nodded towards the guitar sitting in the corner of the stall. Dark stained wood around the edges fading into a lighter mahogany. It was beautiful. “Bringing that, too?”

“Yeah, why not. Here, let me help.” He grabbed it and lifted it over your head, situating it so that the body of the guitar was resting against your back. “You ever played?”

You shook your head. “No. Good thing you do.”

He brought the horse out into the open, making sure he still had everything important– a gun in his pocket and a broken watch on his wrist. He helped you up onto the saddle, sitting behind him and flush with his back.

Outside the walls, It was a beautiful day. The sun had melted away the heavy snow on the peaks of the rolling hills, the first kiss of spring. New life, grass that had started to green. You had your arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s middle, face pressed against the back of his shoulder. The fields seemed boundless. You hadn’t realized just how infinitesimally small your world had grown since being in Jackson.

“Are there usually infected around here?” You asked.

“Not really. The valley helps. We’ll stay out in the open, don’t worry, baby.”

You didn’t even have to ask. The little tour he was giving you around the east end of the fields was mostly an effort to case the surrounding area, his senses on high alert for anything dangerous. The truth was, this place was secure. Still, Joel would move mountains to keep you safe. Would do anything. He’d made mistakes in the past that he wouldn’t let happen again. Couldn’t.

After a loop around the outer wall, riding with a mixture of the horse's friendly canter and Joel intentionally speeding her up to scare the shit out of you and make you hold on tighter to him, he settled on a plateau at the top of a hill, a few steps away from the thick evergreen forest.

After helping you off the mare and spreading out the woven blanket he had rolled up on the back of the saddle, Joel sat down with a heavy sigh. You tied the lead to a low tree branch where the horse seemed content to roam. After, you pulled the guitar over your head and handed it to him.

It was still early in the day, and the sun was barely cresting over the hilltops from this view. 10:42 AM. That’s when his daughter was born. He looked down at the broken face of his watch out of habit, even though the thing had been broken for years at this point.

You dropped down next to him and your head immediately connected with his shoulder. Looking over at him, his eyes were far away and glassy. “What’re you thinking about?”

Joel shook his head and pressed a slow kiss into your forehead. “Nothin’. Just wondering what I should play.” He brought the guitar into his lap and strummed it a little, pausing to tune the top string down half a step. “Feel like I gotta impress you.”

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to. Who’d you used to listen to?”

“Oh, Jesus…” he had sort of let go of the fond memories he had of old music. With you, though, he was starting to miss it. “Some Zeppelin, some Billy Joel, Pearl Jam… Nirvana was just gettin’ good, too. Lots of Chet Atkins when I was younger.”

You just smiled, moving your hand to stroke his knee. “None of that surprises me.”

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” he asked after a while. “Stevie Nicks, always one of my favorites. My daughter’s, too.”

Your heart hurt a little at that. Joel had never brought up the daughter he’d lost with you. You kissed his shoulder as he started picking the strings to the tune of Landslide, that gentle back and forth that you hadn’t heard in more than 20 years.

“That's a good one, baby.”

You still remembered the lyrics. He did, too.

I took my love, I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

‘Til the landslide brought me down

Joel’s playing wasn’t perfect. He’d picked the guitar up again a few times in the last couple weeks, but before that, it had been a lifetime ago. On that radio station in Austin, The Best Of The ‘70’s, this one would come on all the time. Sarah would grin and sing her best rendition, as loudly as possible, always egging Joel on to join in too. Sometimes he would, but not always. He regretted that.

He thought your voice was beautiful. Clear and bright. His voice was probably an octave below yours, gravelly and out of practice. The two of you mixed together like honey into whiskey.

Oh, mirror in the sky,

What is love?

Can the child in my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

He would’ve liked to scoff at that. There's nothing to do but handle it. Push forward and deal. He didn’t die on September 26th, 2003, despite his best efforts and no matter how much he wanted to. He was here with you. Singing with you, laughing through the verses, watching the sun light up your eyes. And for that? A part of him had to consider himself a lucky son of a bitch.

He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to make a life with you. The extent to which he could see that to fruition, he wasn’t sure. Everything was uncertain. He didn’t even deserve it. Nothing he had done over the past 20 years was worthy of you. But fuck, he could be good. If he tried, maybe, he could be good for you. And trying? It’d be worth it.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting older, too

Joel had to stop singing. Tears were swelling in his dark brown eyes and one wrong move would break the entire dam of emotions. He kept playing, though, into the second chorus, happy to listen to you.

Well, I’ve been afraid of–

“Joel?”

You turned away from the landscape to look at his face. Tears were streaking his cheeks, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. You didn’t say anything– you took the guitar out of his arms and brought him into yours instead. You rubbed slow circles into his flannel-clad back, holding him tight as his shoulders sagged and shuddered with every shaky inhalation.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry," he managed to say.

“It’s okay, Joel. You’re okay. It’s just me, you know I don’t mind. I got you, come on, just get it out.”

You had your own guesses as to what was getting to him so bad. You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t pry. He wouldn’t tell you like that, anyway. He had to do it himself.

After a few pregnant moments passed with the two of you like that, his breathing finally evened out enough for him to speak clearly. He pulled away from you, taking your face into his hands so you couldn’t look away. His eyes were reddened and puffy, his cheeks wet.

“I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. D’you understand that? Nothin’. I’m gonna take care of you. Keep you safe. Keep you happy.” He tucked your hair behind your ears before gliding his thumbs over the skin just below your eye. “I will. You just gotta let me.”

You gently pried his hands away from your face, taking them into your own and pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “Okay, baby. I’ll let you. I’ll let you,” you repeated. “I’m safe with you, I know.”

He pulled you in suddenly, practically squeezing all of the air out of your lungs with the grip he had on you. “I promise you. I promise.”

He promised you, and you believed him.

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,

Well, the landslide bring it down

Oh, the landslide bring it down

At your lesson with Ellie, she seemed more motivated than you did. Sooner or later, she was going to exhaust the entire Star Wars: A Beginner’s Score sheet music book that you had found a few years back.

After successfully sight reading the first few bars of The Imperial March and promptly declaring that she had had enough ‘piano-ing’ for the day, Ellie gave you a look.

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“Nothin’,” she said flippantly, looking away from you. “Just– are you and Joel, like, together?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ellie turned, looking exasperated. “Pft. You know exactly what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and jokingly shoved her away from you by the forehead. “We’re getting married next week, actually,” you said, laughing. “Mhm, we’re running away with each other. Gonna buy a big white house with a big picket fence down south– you know, to keep you out.”

“Oh, fuck you, dude.” She giggled too, punching your shoulder in return hard enough to push you down the piano bench. “I have a right to know! And besides, I don’t have anyone to tell. I can keep a secret.”

“I disagree, but– if you memorize your F# minor scale by Tuesday, I’ll tell you all about it. Has to be perfect, though,” you qualified.

“Fine,” she said with stubborn resolve. “And… there's one more thing.” Her eyes cast downwards and her shoulders drooped a little as she gave a long exhale.

“What is it?”

She looked back up at you through her dark lashes. “Did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda?”

“The– the who?”

With a completely straight face, she said, “Yeah. He’s lucky it was a soft drink.”

Ellie’s laughter could barely be heard over your exaggerated groaning. You had your head dropped into your hands and Ellie in tears when Joel walked in through the front door.

Ellie, sighing and wiping her eyes, said: “I told her the ol’ soda-can-to-the-head one. Pretty good, right?”

“Jesus…” you heard Joel mutter.

Shiny-eyed and smiling, you pointed to the door. “Out of my house. Both of you. And don’t bother coming back.”

Ellie grabbed her coat and was out the door before Joel could even open his mouth. “See you Tuesday!”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

Later that day, in the hot and unusually busy Tipsy Bison, Joel was too drunk.

It was the perfect conclusion to the most bittersweet day he’d had in a while. Had the morning with you, finished up a roofing project just after dinner, and against his better judgment, asked if you wanted drinks. You arrived as a pair, undoubtedly eliciting new whisperings from your fellow Jackson residents, but Joel was starting not to care.

You’d mentioned going out together in passing to him after he had told you about the bar scene when he was younger, commenting on how you wished you’d gotten to experience that. And yeah, maybe this felt more like playing pretend to him than anything, but he wanted to give you good days. Good memories. A real life, where you could experience things with him and not have to worry about how long the happiness would last.

Tonight, it backfired. A year ago today, he would’ve been mixing whiskey and oxycodone to forget it was Sarah’s birthday. But now, he was too drunk with Tommy, and you were watching all of it, and he wished he still had a handful of pills to knock him out.

“She your girlfriend now, brother?” Tommy slurred, clapping him on the shoulder.

Joel grabbed you roughly by the waist from his seat at the bar, tucking you in close to him. “Yeah, she’s my girl,” he cooed. “Ain’t that right, pretty baby?”

Tommy chuckled, slamming his glass down onto the counter. “Same way Tessa was your girl? Or different this time?”

Joel wanted to be sick. “The fuck’s wrong with you, asshole?”

You, a little tipsy yourself by this point, smoothed a hand over Joel’s curls in an effort to de-escalate this conversation. “Joel, hey. He’s your brother. Don’t start a fight.”

Tommy shook his head and patted you on the arm. “It’s okay, baby, let him speak.”

Drunkenly, Joel stood up, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be saddled with all this shit,” he started. “Always chasin’ your sorry ass. Halfway across the fuckin’ country this time. If it weren’t for you, Tess’d be here.”

This was an old argument, but they were drunk, and it seemed like the perfect time to rehash it.

Tommy stood up to meet his eyes. “Oh yeah? Really? If it weren’t for me, Joel, you’da had a bullet in your head by now. Oh, y’haven't told her? Your girl? Go on, tell her. Tell her all about Sarah. Happy fuckin’ birthday to her.”

“Keep her name out your motherfuckin’ mouth, you– bastard–”

You had your arm interlinked with Joel’s, but he flung you off of him in an instant. He swung at Tommy, but his aim was a little diluted from the gin and Tommy ducked anyway. He only got one attempt in before five different people were pulling them away from each other to opposite ends of the bar.

You followed Joel, thanking the two men who were restraining him as he shouted strings of profanities and nobody, assuring them that you could take it from here.

“Joel, you gotta calm down. Hey. Hey, Miller, I’m fucking talking to you.” You grabbed his face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “Take a breath. Just take a breath.”

He did as he was told, but his eyes were still darting rapidly around the room. “Tommy…” he breathed out. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to, I swear. Did I hurt him? I hurt him, didn’t I?”

“No, baby. You– uh, you missed.”

“Ah, fuck.”

Maybe narcotics wouldn’t have fixed this, either.

Joel let you drag him back to your place without putting up much of a fight. Sarah. She would’ve been ashamed of him. There was a mounting list of things that Sarah would’ve hated him for, and this was just the icing on the cake.

Back on your couch, lying on his back, he wanted today to be over.

“I was s’pposed to be doin’ good for you,” he said quietly. “Bein’ better for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your voice straining with the force it took to tug off his left boot.

“I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“I ain’t, babydoll. I ain’t. Not for you, not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not for Tessa, and not for Sarah,” he mumbled. “It’s her birthday.”

“I know.”

“I miss her,” he swallowed. “Real bad.”

“I know, Joel.”

There was a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest. Landslide was still stuck in his head.

… saw my reflection… snow covered hills …

He shut his eyes. “Is Ellie alright?”

“Mhm. She’s asleep down the street,” you said, tracing lazy shapes into his stomach.

“She’s a good kid,” he mumbled. “Tough kid.”

“She is,” you agreed. “She relies on you– cares about you. Lots of people care about you.”

… time makes y’bolder, children get… older …

Joel hummed in response. “I still need you.”

… I’m gettin’ older, too …

You bit your lip. You should really get back up, make sure Joel had a glass of water and painkillers near him for when he woke up. Maybe even a bowl from the kitchen. But your body felt like it was being weighed down by lead, and the infrequency at which you actually drank alcohol was making you unfathomably tired.

You laid down on top of him, head pressed against his chest. His breathing was slow and even and his heart rate was calm.

“I need you, too.”

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lxstfathier · 8 months

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Heat

Cowboy! Alejandro Vargas x Horse Hybrid! Reader

Summary: you’re given to Alejandro as a gift, soon becoming an important piece in his new life as a lonely cowboy. But things get out of hand when you get your first heat.

Warnings: slight degradation, unprotected sex, p in v, pussy slapping, breeding kink, corruption.

A/N: i absolutely love the hybrid!reader fics that i see around here, but they’re always a puppy or a bunny, so i decided to write one with a horse reader and finally here it is, i hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as i enjoyed writing it! 💗 (and before y’all come at me, no, this is not zoophilia and i don’t expect it to look like it)

Soon after catching Valeria, Alejandro decided to leave the military, leaving Rudy as the colonel of los vaqueros, opting for a more peaceful life away from violence.

He bought a nice house in the outskirts of las almas, with lots of land to plant and raise cattle. So, once he moved in to his new home, he put his hands at work to get everything nice and perfect, planting some seeds and acquiring some animals, just starting with some chickens, a small herd of cows and two horses.

His new life in the middle of nowhere seemed to go just right, like dream come true. That’s until, one day, he received a gift.

A black truck came into his property, saying that the had a special present from another high-ranked colonel in the mexican military that he used to know. And how could he deny such thing? of course it would be something to be grateful for.

However, nothing could have prepared him for when he saw you for the first time.

Getting out from the backseat, you finally put your feet on the dry soil, looking at Alejandro with big innocent eyes as he admired every single inch of your body. Hell, you were definitely a rare sight, one of a kind. He had never seen a hybrid before, and you looked almost human, but those pointy ears and long tail revealed your true nature.

“A beautiful young mare” that’s what the strange men told him you were, created in a laboratory with the most pure and strong bloodline. But to Alejandro? you were just a pretty girl who slightly resembled to a horse.

So he took you under his care, even though he knew nothing about hybrids and you were too shy to speak to him for several days, still not used to being out of the horrible lab where you were raised for almost two decades.

First, being careful not to scare you, Alejandro showed you around, all the way from his house to the vast land surrounding it, introducing you to the other animals there, with whom you connected immediately. Then, he prepared a stall for you to use every night, using extra wood shavings to make it more comfortable.

And, with such kind treatment, it wasn’t long until you started trusting your new owner.

Two weeks later, you got out of your stall by your own, running on the field with the other horses, hanging out with the cows and their little calves, or simply just sitting in the grass every evening, enjoying the last rays of sun while you watch Alejandro from afar, admiring the way he unloads bales of hay from his truck, shirtless, with his tanned skin and strong muscles glistening under the orange sky.

Sometimes you even eat diner with him on his kitchen, chomping on a bowl of grain and carrots while he eats whatever he finds, hearing him talk about all those interesting stories from his days in the military.

It all went well for a while, enjoying the time spent together, just getting to know each other. Until everything got complicated again.

After a few months, when your body reaches full maturity, you get your first heat. Something that you’re so innocent and naive to even understand what is going on. You feel weird all day, with a strange tingle between your legs and a sensitive hot skin, aching for any kind of relief.

So you ask Alejandro for help, thinking that an experienced man like him should know what to do in that situation, but he refuses every time, telling you to just get some rest till it goes away.

And you try, you really try, but by the end of the week it’s unbearable, growing desperate and needy, clenching your thighs together, almost whimpering in pain at the slightest friction.

It’s practically a torture for both of you. And he finally snaps when he sees you there, leaning on the fence, mindlessly trying to flirt with his stallions, even though the poor animals can’t smell your hormones due to your mixed dnas.

“Can you stop being a little whore for at least five minutes?” Alejandro grabs you by your arm, practically dragging you away from there, clearly fed up with all that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, i- i don’t know what’s going on, i just want to feel better” you apologize, still not quite used to that new change in your body, looking up at him with teary eyes and flopped ears. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He’s not mad, he’s just pent up after all those days of teasing. But he understands you, he knows full well that you’re going through something difficult and suffering because of it, and he doesn’t like to see his animals suffer.

“Then tell me what do you need to feel better” he says, as if he didn’t knew exactly what, letting go of your arm to caress your cheek and run his thumb over your pouted lips.

You don’t know exactly how to put it into words, but you try your best to communicate your needs and not get distracted by his pretty brown eyes, that delicate caress, or his bare torso where you can clearly see his toned muscles.

“Touch me. Please.”

“Así?” Alejandro asks, a smirk appearing on his face as one of his hands gets under your shirt to play with your tits and the other one finds its way between your legs, exploring your soaked folds.

You just nod, unable to speak, feeling as if you were about to melt from his touch, holding on to his strong arm for some stability.

“You’ve been such a tease for days. Whoring yourself out for everyone here to see, and do you know what happens to little whores like you? huh? they get treated like one.”

You can’t process his words, you’re out of your mind already, but you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you, as long as he keeps giving you that sweet relief that you’ve been craving all week.

Alejandro smirks, almost mocking how pliant you are him, easily pushing you with his arm until your back hits a pile of hay bales. Now totally cornered and slightly scared, feeling your prey instincts come to surface.

Then, he grabs you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you up to make you sit on top of a few bales, just at the perfect height for him to spread your legs and admire that pretty pussy between your legs, all swollen and slick, practically dripping with arousal.

“Look at you, hermosa. So fucking wet. Who would have thought that such a innocent creature would be a total slut begging for cock.” he says, placing a few hard smacks to your sensitive cunt, making you squirm and whine with each impact.

“Please” you cry, trying to stop his hand.

“Please what?”

“F-fuck me Ale. Please, i need it.” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes, wanting nothing more than to end your agony.

“Si?” Alejandro smiles, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, letting his hard cock spring free. “You want me to breed this little pussy?”

He wraps a fist around his length, dragging the tip along your slit, mixing his pre cum with your sweet juices. And the pure sight of that big veiny cock teasing you poor cunt is enough to make you clench around nothing.

You buck your hips, encouraging Ale to put it in already. And he does it, being kind enough to decide that it’s been enough torture for you, guiding his fat cock to your entrance, sliding it inside inch by inch, growling when he feels how tight you are around him.

There’s a slight stinging in the way he’s splitting you open, stuffing you so full and deep that you can almost feel him in your guts, but you like it, even if your eyes get teary and pained cries escape your lips.

“Tranquila hermosa. Let me take care of you, si?” he soothes you once he’s fully sheathed inside, caressing your fluffy ears as he kisses you softly, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Alejandro starts thrusting slow, just to get you adjusted to him, and also because he doesn’t want the moment to end so soon. If he could be buried in your warm cunt for an eternity, he would, without a second thought.

But, when both of you start to get eager for more, he picks up a fast pace. His thrusts become harder, impaling you with his girth over and over, making you feel as if you were about to break in half, but at the same time, an immense pleasure with each hit against that soft spot deep inside you.

It’s too much. You break the kiss to moan loudly, digging your nails on the soft skin of his back, already knowing that you won’t last any longer.

And he can tell quite easily that you’re close by the way your walls hug him tight and your body tenses. So he gives you a little help, moving a hand down to rub your clit with his thumb, in fast circular motions that have you screaming out his name.

“Ale! f-feels so good! ah! i’m- i’m gonna-“

You can’t even finish your incoherent babbles when the orgasm hits you, exploding with waves of pleasure, crying and shaking under him, with you arousal being enough to form a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

“That’s it, good girl” Alejandro praises you, slowing his thrusts for a few seconds while you ride out your high. “Now i’m gonna pump you full of my cum, and you’re gonna carry my child and be a good mommy, si? you want that?”.

You’re so cockdrunk that you can only nod, just being able to concentrate on how his hands keep your legs open, the way he fucks you with new newfound strength, abusing your tiny hole, and the filthy squelching noises between your bodies.

Alejandro mumbles curses in spanish while you whine from the overstimulation, and it’s not long until his thrusts lose rhythm, finally coming undone. His cock twitches inside your warm cunt, flooding your fertile womb with thick ropes of white seed as a deep grunt escapes from his throat.

He ruts into you for a while, enjoying the delicious sensation, and then slowly pulls out, keeping your legs open to admire the mess. Your pussy is absolutely wrecked, with slick smeared all over it, slightly sore and dripping with his cum. And he’s proud of it.

“You’re feeling better?” he asks, rubbing your trembling thighs and fixing his pants.

“Yeah. A little bit” you answer shyly, knowing that it’s going to take more than that to calm your heat.

“Well, i guess that we’ll have to do this all weekend. Until your heat is gone, or until you give me a little filly… or a strong colt, i don’t care.”

You smile at his comment, not caring about it either, anything sounds good to you. But Alejandro is not shy to hide his desire to be a father, in love with the idea of having a lovely kid just like you, with ears and tail, running around the farm.

But, for now, he has to take care of you, his precious little mare. So he takes you in his arms, carrying your exhausted body to the house as you cling to his neck, ready to give you a nice bath, braid your hair and dress you with another clean shirt.

All while thinking that you are definitely the best gift that he has ever received.

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod smut #call of duty fanfic #alejandro vargas fanfic

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atomic--peach · 10 months

Text

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt 10.

(Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader x Cersei Lannister. SMUT: Domme Cersei, light knife play, fingering, bondage, light degradation, overstimulation, oral <male receiving>)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

The day had finally come for you to return South and you were glad of it.

There was nothing worse, in your opinion, than being trapped in a clearly troubled place where there is nothing you can do to help.

Before you left, Theon Greyjoy stopped you. "Apologies, my lady. But, Lady Stark would like to have a word before you leave."

Catelyn Stark had holed herself up in main tower at her child's sick bed, never leaving as far as you knew.

You agreed, following the young man up the stairs and finding Lady Stark sitting in a worn wooden chair, hands clasped at her knees. She looked more ghost than woman.

"My Lady?" You breathed carefully, as if approaching a baby deer. "You sent for me?"

"Lady Clegane" Catelyn almost jumped when she saw you, as if she had forgotten summoning you at all, "Thank you Theon, you may go."

Left alone with Catelyn, you let your eyes wander the the little bundle in the middle of the bed. "How is he?"

"No change." Catelyn sighed, "but the Maesters say he is out of danger now"

She turned to you with sunken, sullen eyes. "I've asked you here to ask a favor."

"Anything, my lady" you nodded, feeling great pity for the woman before you.

"This will be my daughters' first trip south, away from home." Catelyn breathed, "Their father will be with them, and he is a good man, he is but...."

Fresh tears began to well up in her eyes and she wiped them away firmly.

"They've never been away from their mother before and I need...I am asking you to watch out for them, as if they were your daughters. Please, do this for me?"

"Oh of course, Lady Stark." You were relieved the assignment was so straight forward, "I will do everything I can."

You weren't expecting the sudden onslaught of physical contact as Lady Stark wrapped her arms around your neck.

"Oh thank you!" She sobbed, "thank you, thank you."

You nodded and waited for her to let go before clearing your throat. "Forgive me, Lady Stark. But I must go before they leave without me."

"Of course" she pulled away, face once again wet with tears, "go, go. You mustn't keep them waiting"

You gripped her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, "my prayers will be with you, Lady Stark"

---------

"What did she want?" Sandor grumbled, annoyed you had left him holding your mare's reigns to wait for you.

"She asked me to keep an eye on her girls." You sighed, "that poor woman, she looked closer to the grave than her son."

"It doesn't feel right" Sandor mounted Stranger as you pulled the mare up beside him. "Give me a good, clean death. I wouldn't want to get stuck between."

"Ugh" you pulled a face, "I don't want to think of you dying. There's been enough unpleasantness these last few weeks. I'm just glad to be going home."

Sandor didn't say anything, not wanting to point out that all that likely waited for you in Kings Landing were bitter nobles and nasty rumors about the upstart handmaiden who had slept her way into the Queen's Court.

He knew there was very little he could do to shield you from that. His speciality was in the feild and the fighting pits, with his sword or his fists. The gentry was an entirely different beast.

Part of him wanted to ship you off to the Westerlands to Clegane Keep. It was a generous bit of land gifted to his grandfather by the Lannisters, and had plenty of forest and farms to draw a profit from if you actually bothered to maintain it.

But the queen would never allow it, and a part of himself wouldn't either. Away from him meant closer to something else. Brigands, lustful lords, and worst of all, Gregor.

Sandor knew that at some point, some point uncomfortably soon, you would have to formally meet your new brother by law. Gregor was more beast than man, never sticking around court too long lest he find some stuck up noble to decapitate or unlucky lady to rape.

How would Gregor react to his younger brother marrying before he did? Probably producing a Clegane heir before he did? Would he see it as a challenge to his seat?

Sandor prayed he didn't.

But he didn't bring this up, not to you. Instead he rode in comfortable silence beside you, keeping an eye out for Prince Joffrey, who was probably being held hostage by his lioness mother trying to woo Lady Sansa.

That poor kid, he thought, that family was going to eat her alive.

___________

At dusk, you had come to an inn and thanked the gods for it. Who knew just a few weeks at Winterfell would soften your legs so much.

"Ow," you hissed as the chaffed flesh of your thighs touched. "Dammit"

"Sore?" Sandor smirked, his thighs of iron practically impervious to riding sores. "Perhaps you need something between them to make you feel better"

"You offering?" You challenged him with a teasing smile.

"Run along" the not-knight pulled down your hood and kissed the top of your head, "you queen wants you."

Cersei smiled as you approached the royal carriage. "Lady Clegane, come sit with us" she reached out to you and you took her hand carefully as you climbed into the carriage.

Inside was Lady Sansa and Princess Marcella who had been chatting like eager birds.

"You remember Lady Sansa?"

"Of course" you nodded to the spry 12 year old who nodded back politely. "How is the travel treating you so far?"

"I've never been so far from home before." Sansa confessed, "it's thrilling"

"I hadn't traveled much before this either" you agreed. "But this Northern countryside is just heavenly. So quiet."

"You must be exhausted, my darling" Cersei fussed "all that time on that beast, you must join me in the carriage at least once"

"I will try to tear myself away, your grace" you promised almost teasing, relaxing as the queen linked her arm in yours.

"You, guard." The queen swiftly called to random servant, "find the Hound and tell him Lady Clegane will be spending the evening with the Queen and not to worry." She glanced at you, eyes tracking your form like a wild cat, "She will be very well taken care of"

"At once, your grace" the servant scurried away and you smiled shyly.

"The king will not mind?" You whispered, unsure how much could be said in front of the younger girls.

"His Grace is busy orientating his new Hand" Cersei assured you, "trust me, he won't even notice. Now-" she raised her voice, indicating they no longer needed to talk in circles around Sansa and Marcella.

"I sent a raven to my dressmaker while we were in Winterfell and bless him, he was able to get a response back to me before we left. If we take your measurements and sent them to Kings Landing tonight, he should have some gowns ready for you upon our arrival. Any alterations needed can be done when we get there."

"Wow" you were awestruck at the efficiency. If left to your own devices you wouldn't have known where to begin. "I can not thank you enough, your grace."

"Nonsense" Cersei moved to leave the carriage, trailing you and the girls behind her like ducklings. "I will not have you looking any less than your best when you're received. Marcella, why don't you run along and find your Septa, I'm sure you have some lessons to go over. And Sansa, isn't you sister around here somewhere?"

The girls dutifully fled as Cersei's arm went from your elbow to your waist, "and you, Lady Clegane" she breathed, "will take me up to my room"

The innkeep had set aside the two largest rooms in the inn for the King and Queen. Cersei's room contained a large 4 poster bed, a writing desk, full length mirror edged in carved oak, and a fireplace.

"Have you ever had your measurements taken?"

"No" you swallowed, knowing damn well that wasn't why she'd stolen you away for the evening.

"Stand up straight" Cersei pulled a measuring tape from her bags. "Arms at your sides, there's a lamb"

The Queen's breath warmed the back of your neck as she measured your legs, your waist and bust, and your arms finger tip to finger tip.

For a moment you thought you had fooled yourself. She hadn't called you up here for anything more than measurements, that was all.

Your skin prickled as the leather measuring tape brushed your throat suddenly, unsure when it had even gotten there. The strap pressed against your windpipe lightly, not enough to restrict you but enough to threaten.

"Put your arms behind your back" Cersei purred into your ear, nipping gently at the lobe until you obeyed. You felt the thin leather wrap around your right wrist, then your left before they were pulled together tightly.

"I want to tell you a story" Cersei's hands fell to your hips, guiding you to the full length mirror. Her chin rested on your shoulder thoughtfully, running her hands up and down your body.

"When I was a little girl, I had a doll. Well, actually, I had a great many dolls. But one doll in particular was my favorite. I thought she was the most beautiful doll in the world."

As the story began, you watched in amazement as her elegant hands cupped your breasts and rubbed tender circles on your hips. It was like they moved on their own, Cersei fully engrossed in her own story and letting her hands grope and feel as they pleased.

"I took that doll with me everywhere I went. I brushed her hair, made sure all her dresses were clean and beautiful. When her paint chipped, I made my father's craftsmen repaint her as if nothing had happened"

Her hands found your clothes nipples now, rubbing her thumbs over them until the hardened and ached.

"Then, one day, my father informed me that I had grown to old for dolls. He made me throw her away with all her beautiful dressed, and I cried and protested but in the end the doll was gone." Cersei's hands came back to your shoulders, hugging you to her in a surprisingly tender embrace. She kissed down your next and back up again until she reached the shell of your ear.

"But now, my doll has come back to me, hasn't she?"

"I- yes, my queen" you agreed, not fully understanding but playing along.

"Hmmm" she cooed and looked you up and down in the mirror, pulling at your riding gown critically. "I don't like this dress on my doll."

You gasped as the skirt of your dress was sliced down the back. "Your Grace!"

"Shhh sh sh." Cersei hushed you, fingering the small blade she kept hidden in her sleeves, flashing the blade at you in the light. "Don't flinch now, I don't want to knick you"

You tried to keep as still as can be as the sound of blade cutting through wool filled the room and more and more of your body was exposed to the cool air. You jumped when the knife ripped open your bodice, earning you a sharp slap on the tit that stung wonderfully.

"Now look" Cersei forced you to look back into the mirror, hands once again traveling up and down your now exposed flesh. "Isn't that so much better?"

"Y-Yes, your grace" you closed your eyes to the slight but Cersei bit into your shoulder.

"Keep looking" she hissed, cupping your bare breast in both her hands and making you watch as she pinched and pulled your sensitive nipples.

Once a hot flush had filled your face and chest, Cersei pushed your legs apart with a growl. "Let me see" she taunted, slipping a hand down your back, affectionately toying with your bound wrists before you saw her clever hand appear between your legs in the mirror.

She stroked your folds softly, reveling in how quickly you got wet for her.

"When I do this" she stared into your eyes through the mirror, "I want you watching. I want you to see how beautiful you look getting fucked. If you stop watching, or if you close your eyes, I will punish you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, my queen" you were trembling by now, desperate for her to touch you and oddly intrigued by your own reflection.

The queens graceful fingers wasted no time dipping between your wet folds, gathering your wetness before slipping up to rub your clit. It was an usual experience, being forced to stand, forcing your knees not to buckle as she pinched the nub between two fingers and rubbed in circles.

"Eyes open" Cersei cracked her free hand against your ass and your eyes shot open instantly.

Once your knees were buckling, Cersei slipped three fingers inside of you. The intrusion almost made you double over, if she hadn't caught you by the hair and kept you standing.

"Remember to keep quiet this time sweetling," Cersei chuckled into your ear as you bit your lip to keep the moans from spilling out. "That's right, good girl."

The sting from your scalp meeting the relentless pleasure between your legs had you struggling to keep from falling off the edge, but you didn't. You wanted to keep going for as long as you could.

"My sweet girl, my little doll. I know your close" Cersei pressed, curling her fingers up into your g-spot. "You know, everyone had has the pleasure of watching that sweet little face of yours cum. Me, Jaime, your precious Hound."

She taunted you as you struggled against your bindings, the restraint becoming all too much.

"Everyone but you. Have you any idea how pretty you look, when your eyes roll back, sweating, flushed? It's fucking addictive."

The queen knew you were fighting it off, desperate to keep this going, to be the center of her frantic and cruelly pleasurable attentions.

"Stubborn little slut, aren't you?" she growled. "Fine then, you can't hold out forever"

The withdrawal of her hands felt like punishment and you sealed your mouth to muffle an involuntary sob that turned into a whine.

"Don't worry, doll." The queen dragged the chair from the writing desk to the mirror, pushing you down into it with a menacing grin

"You're not done until I say you're done"

--------------

It was the hour of the Rat when Sandor finally decided to look for you.

Neither you nor the queen had been to dinner, and you hadn't been seen for hours.

"I have an idea" Robert had grumbled, three sheets to the wind.

Approaching the highest floor of the inn, Sandor paused moment. It sounded like something had fallen with a dull thud.

Stripped of plate, he tried to be a quiet as possible as he drew closer. He didn't know why he had come, it's not like he didnt know what was going on behind that door.

Part of it, he presumed, tracked back to that night in camp when your cried of agony and pleasure had been the symphony of the night.

A siren's song.

He could hear that song again, but it was muffled now.

"Have you learned your lesson, sweetling?"

He strained to hear the response and sucked in a breath when the sound of flesh hitting flesh drew forth a drawn out moan.

"Too fucked out to answer? That's fine" The queen purred, "I wonder how your husband would feel seeing you like this? Blissed out, cunt swollen and drenched, ass bruised. Would he be disappointed by his little slut of a wife?"

The description alone has Sandor growing hard as his mind wandered.

"No, don't look so sad. I don't think so" Cersei's voice became something resembling encouraging. "I bet he'd find you just as beautiful as I do. Should we ask him? He's right outside."

Sandor's stomach dropped as the bedroom door squealed open and he stumbled back. Queen Cersei was draped only in a floor length silk robe, and from this angle it covered very little.

"Looking for your wife?"

The Hound's mouth went dry and silent as the queen chuckled at his embarrassment.

"Come along, she's right this way."

The queen had never really spoken to him before, let alone touched him, so it was strange when she grabbed his large hand with her lithe one and pulled him into the bedroom, closing the door firmly.

You were probably more beautiful now than he had ever seen you.

Laid out on the bed like a girl from the gods. Your arms stretched above your head and held in place by a leather strap exposed the whole of your body for his eyes to feast on. Your nipples were puffy and lightly bruised, shining with saliva to match the swollen lips of your cunt. Your eyes were screwed shut as if trying to block out everything in the world, trying to bring yourself back to earth, and your hair was fanned out in the pillows behind you like a halo.

"What do you think Clegane?" The queen prompted you. "Do you think she's had enough?"

He blinked hesitant, entirely unsure how to interact with the royal in this situation.

"Don't be shy" Cersei moved across the room, pouring herself a cup of wine then offering his some. He accepted.

She sat next to you on the bed, removing the bindings at your wrists and offering you a sip from her wine cup. "Darling? Your knight is here for you. He got worried, isn't that sweet?"

Your eyes settled on him over the rim of the cup and before he could argue you were pulling him by the hands towards the bed.

"Darling" you cooed into his ear. "Sweet husband. My love, please hold me" you begged him in a voice so sweet it would have killed him to deny you.

He swept you up carefully, melting as your curled your face into his chest sighing.

"One moment now" Cersei pulled a loose frock from a chest. "You can't very well walk her through the inn like that."

Carefully she helped you slip into the dress. It was as if you were drunk, only there was no smell of wine or beer on you. You stumbled occasionally, leaning on either your husband or your lover to catch yourself.

"Goodnight sweetling" Cersei killed your mouth firmly, then your forehead. "Go on now"

Clegane moved to pick you up again but as he bent down he froze. Cersei pressed her soft lips against his gently, almost chastely if he hadn't smelt the distinct scent of sex on her.

"Be good to her" she leaned into his ear, hand pressed against his shoulder, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

By now you were able to walk, and the bliss filled fog that had clouded your mind was clearing.

"We should go" you urged them, pulling your shell shocked husband gently. "Before the king catches us"

"She's right" Cersei agreed, "a woman is one thing, but if Robert thinks I've pulled you into this that's all our heads"

Rushing out into the night, you gasped as Sandor pressed you against a wall when you turned the corner. His kiss was insistent and fierce, hands cupping your jaw firmly.

"Darling." You sighed into his mouth, "did you miss me that much?"

He breathed heavily, trying to figure out what to say. "Is it always like that?"

You laughed and shook your head "I think she was just in a really good mood"

"I may have to learn a thing or two from our queen" Sandor growled, "You looked like an angel laid out like that."

His hips pressed against you hard, grinding slightly and you smiled tiredly. "Darling, I dont think I have it in me to go again"

He grumbled in disappointment but moved to free you until your hands gripped his hips.

"But, my throat feels just fine"

#cersei lannister smut #sandor clegane smut #cersei lannister x reader #sandor clegane x reader #Cersei Lannister imagine #Sandor Clegane imagine #game of thrones smut #asoiaf smut #Her Grace's Handmaiden

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unidentifiedly · 2 months

Text

Eventful Morning

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah almost scares the reader to death. Or at the very least, scares them enough for it to have consequences.

"Tip, tip, tip" Soft sounds of rain droplets made their way into your ears.

"No, no. Just a few more minutes." You thought to yourself, unable to open your eyes just yet. Slowly but surely you adjusted to the idea of waking up and opened your eyes. The off white canvas tent filtered the morning light beautifully. Glancing around yourself, looking for your favourite blouse and overdress, your gaze fell on the small dusty mirror in front of you, perched atop a trunk and supported by a stack of hardcover copies of romance novels.

In the mirror, yourself staring right back. You glanced at the intricately engraved brass pocket watch by the side of the bed. The watch itself was a birthday gift from Arthur a couple months back. The arms reaching toward four and twelve, it was way too early to get up and start one's day. Yet, here you were.

Softly humming to yourself you tied your hair up lazily with a ribbon, deciding to spend the hours of the morning organizing your safe haven. The gang had only recently arrived at the new spot, Horseshoe Overlook they called it. Far too east for Arthur's liking, but to you about anything sounded better than heading back up those cold mountains toward Colter. You were used to it at this point, the constant moving around. It was a way of life that held you tightly in its grip.

That being said, the new camp was still unorganized and there was sure to be work around that needed doing. This was a chance to have some private time, peace and quiet for yourself.

Sorting through the mementos and trinkets from throughout the years was quick, you wiped the dust off of the little mirror with the corner of your nightgown. Gathering up the few clothes you had laying around and neatly folding them up you realized the growing pile of fabric by the end of your bed was clothes and linen that needed washing, not something that should just be sorted back into the trunks right away. "I think it was Charles who mentioned there was a river just west of here?" Mumbling to yourself, you picked up the dirty clothes and put them in a basket, not bothering to dress up all the way. "Everyone will be asleep at this hour anyways, and if not, it'll be Miss Grimshaw awake. It's nothing that'll bother her too much." Pulling on your trusty leather boots you untied the strings holding the fabric flap door of your tent shut. A prompt walk to your horse, a beautiful paint mare, and you were off along with your basket of laundry. With the carelessness, soft hums and the skip on your step you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch you leave the camp. The observer finished smoking his cicarette, let his legs fall from the log they were resting on while chucking the cigarette butt over his shoulder, and rubbed his hands together. What on on God's green Earth were you up to this early in the morning, and barely dressed to boot?

The sound of a running stream reached your ears fast. Charles had of course been right, even a blind man would notice the Dakota River from this close by. Hopping off your horse and tying the reins to a nearby tree you swung the basket on your elbow and kicked the boots off your feet, walking straight into the cold running water. Oh how sweet the feeling was! In a low point of the river, a rock stood taller than the surface of the water, so you took a seat and began the chore.

"Eeeasy there boy" Micah huffed to Baylock, staying well hidden in the trees, observing you from afar. A smirk spread on his lips as he saw your boots and gun belt scattered on the riverbank, and you sitting on a rock in the middle of the water, with your back facing him. Dismounting with an agile leap, he slowly but surely started making his way toward you.

Completely lost in your activity and the sweet warm sunshine of the spring morning you were singing to yourself, getting ready to leave. Looking at the last blouse, and squeezing the extra water out of it a surprisingly strong wave hit the rock and splashed water all over you, soaking your thin white linen undergarments. "Fuck!" You stood up and turned around, screaming out loud.

"Mic- Mr.Bell! What the fuck are you doing?"

Keeping his eyes locked on your body, his smirk widened, his arms reaching out toward you. "Just call me Micah, and I could ask ya the same thing, sweetcheeks. Now come on here." He beckoned with his hands, but you refused.

"No, I don't think so, you can't just creep up on me like that Mr Bell. I could have dropped my laundry basket, or worse, fallen down and then drowned out of shock!"

You took a step back, lifting the now heavier basket full of wet clothes up to rest against your hipbone.

For every step you took back, Micah took one forward, and the man had both the advantage of longer legs and facing the direction he was going. It didn't take long for things to go south.

"I'm warning you Mr Bell, I'm going to tell Arthur about this, and you know he is not going to be happy!" You tried in vain.

"Hrmph. The cowpoke ain't got nothing to do with how I conduct my business with a lady such as yerself."

You were taken aback, "what did you just call me? You never- Ah!"

Slipping on a rock and falling back, you reached out to Micah for support, and closed your eyes in anticipation of the cold hard surface of the river. The sensation never came.

"Gotcha." Eyeing down at you was Micah, who effortlessly supported your almost naked body by your waist and left arm. "Now how about ya let me show you a good time as a thanks?" One of his eyebrows rising up and his face forming a seductive expression.

You, however, were too occupied to notice or care. "Micah you idiot! All of my clothes are fucking gone!"

And indeed, the river was decorated with the various pieces of clothing running merrily downstream, way too fast to catch up to.

"Well, ya won't be needin' any of those for th- Ow!" "Shut the fuck up and help me get dressed before anyone else notices!"

The ride to the camp was one of the worst you had ever experienced. For Micah, it was the opposite. A prideful smirk on his cocky face, throwing you the occasional remark about the curve of your waist and ass, and how good you looked in just his jacket as you rode, and making no attempts to be quiet and discreet as you arrived in camp. You tried your best to ignore him and get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Hopping off your horse, not even bothering to tie the rains to the hitchpost, you walked briskly toward your tent only to run straight into Sean.

"Oi, watch where ya- Y/N, wow, let me tell ya, could not see this one comin'!" A smirk instantly grew on his face, and he slapped a hand on Micah's jacket, on your shoulder.

"Sean it's NOT what it looks like, and don't you dare mention this to anyone either!" You whisper yelled while taking off the jacket, exposing your still wet and thus transparent garments. Sean blushed bright red, poor guy, and you stomped right in to your tent.

Not being able to face the rest of the day, the longer you stayed in your tent the more intimidating the prospect of leaving felt. Surely Sean had told everyone about what he saw, and you'd be mocked til eternity.

No, there was no way you'd ever leave that tent again.

A few hours later you were starving for a snack and stuck your head out to find the main area empty. Great! An opening. As soon as you stepped out, a voice rang: "Y/N!" You turned around, mouth open to start defending yourself, only to face a very noticeably beat-up looking Sean. "Listen, sorry about the earlier, I never saw nothing, alright?" You nodded in confusion and he smiled, thanked you quickly and scurried off. You got the food you were after, and returned to your tent to eat it. There, on your cot, rested a shirt and a dress, folded in a way which looked like a very bad attempt, with a piece of paper on top. There, in barely legible rough handwriting:

"The idiot won't bother ya about it. M"

You smiled to yourself, feeling the fabric of the clothes. Both of good quality fabrics, a white undershirt and a red simple dress. Just like the ones you usually wear every day.

Observing from a distance as you emerged from your tent in your red dress, Micah Bell smiled to himself as he sharpened his knife, softly murmuring to himself: "Gotcha ta call me by my name at least. That's a start."

note: Yay! My first ever piece of writing I've published online :) do suggest if you get any good ideas and like my writing style.

#micah bell #micah bell x reader #rdr2 #micah x you #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #reader insert

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punkeropercyjackson · 3 months

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Egg Percy Jackson evidence masterpost

Considers traditional masculinity a burden,weird,confusing and gross(see her calling Ares ugly + Finding Apollo extremely annoying for acting like a stereotypical guy)but forces it onto herself because she's desperate to fit in and be accepted

Thinks women are better than men

Almost all her friends in the og series were girls(Annabeth,Silena,Clarisse,Thalia,Zoe,Bianca and Rachel vs just Grover,Nico and Beckendorf)

The first gay male character in the series stopped crushing on her because he realized she's not the ideal man he thought she was

Her relathionship with him is also very eldest sister/middle brother-esque

Her most common clothing item is hoodies(dysphoria)

Almost all the gods who treat her badly are men while almost all her positive relathionships with them are with the goddesses,including Artemis who is very famous for disliking men and protecting young girls

Persephone,who's most significant and solid myth is about men's violence against women(Hymn to Demeter),canonically likes her for being 'different' from other 'male' halfbloods

Generally relates to other female characters more than she does male ones

Best friends to lovers to exes turned even closer best friends is a very common experience for irl trans women with afab wlw and this is her canon dynamic with Rachel

Was jealous of Thalia because wanted to be like her,Thalia being a girl who defies and spits in the face of society's expectations of women but is still very proudly a girl and gets pissed when people try to erase that

Frequently describes women she finds pretty in an enchanted and awed way,which combined with all the prev points is most definitely gender envy

The Titan's Curse,the book where she enters teenagehood,had a huge focus on how she's 'not like other men' by the Hunters,who in the og myths were pretty much a metaphor for 'lesbians',if not outright interested in women and rejecting men as romantic options

Only ship them platonically but Annabeth never really shows attraction to characters she thinks are men other than her and Luke and she straight up said she never actually loved the latter romantically and always saw him as an older brother and was just confused because of how young she was so this makes both her being a lesbian and Percy being a trans woman click perfectly together

Specifically them being butch4femme since Annabeth is a tomboy who hates girlyness for herself and Percy as per stated before dosen't wanna be masc.Also,daughter of the king of Atlantis?'Her hair was curly,like a princess'?Gender envy strikes again!!

She acts like a Mom Friend very often,especially to younger characters,and i'm allowed to say that because i'm afab and a Mom Friend myself

Rick has commented on her sexuality but never her gender so it's not like it's been debunked

A joke one but Blackjack was called a mare in SOM yet a stallion from TTC onward so trans horse boy and his trans horse girl owner

Luke's relathionship with her heavily parallels his to Annabeth,Thalia and Silena so it's not a stretch to say this is unintentional subtext of her being a girl like them and him picking up on her vulnerability like he did them(Not in a 'chilvarious' way btw)

Jason and her remind me of many common main m/f romance tropes-The 'hotheaded girl x levelheaded boy' classic,tall girlfriend and slighter taller boyfriend,contrasting in a complimentary way powers,iirc it being obvious to everyone they instantly liked eachother(feel free to correct me and i'll remove this),Team Parents to the babies of the cast and 'Sweet Sixteen' joke since Percy met her first boyfriend at that age.Worth noting that this would make Percy Jason's best friend who's a girl and that he broke with Piper because their feelings for eachother were shallow and their dating dynamic was too by extent

Similarly,Percy and Annabeth fall under the 'dark haired female protagonist and her tomboy blonde best friend' trope that was so popular 2000s/2010s

More so motifs i think work well than evidence but sea related things are usually associated with femininity-Calling ships 'she',mermaids,pearl jewelry,the moon controlling the tides,the term 'Beach Bunny',etc

Her random reinforments of her 'manhood' are very inconsistent with the rest of her personality and we're given no indication Sally raised her on gender roles so it's less Percy being Percy and more Rick being a cis man

Rick also agreed with the headcanon she loves Led Zepplin so i googled to find out if they were lgbt and they weren't but what i learned was enough to let me know they're a hit with lgbt people for a reason

Again,just my own take,but i feel her being pastel and kidcore is more fitting than any other interests and style for her in addition to her being canonically punk and they're both in-character for her since she's got a positive opinion on girly girls and the second one is an excellent coping mechanism for constant childhood trauma

She's at most in-character,well-written and realistic when she just lets herself be instead of trying to be what everyone wants her to and to be brutally honest,this includes the fandom.She's a femme trans woman and i'm right

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geraltofriviacollection · 1 year

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Paring: Geralt × Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witcher's world. Will she survive? This takes place in the second season .Eventual smut may come about. (Not for a while but will let you know😉)

A/N: This is the second part in a series. Slow burn. I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate or copy my work with out permission. Please leave comments! Also @purplegardenwhispers sorry this took so long but I wrote this just for you. That being said tell me if you like it 😬

Chapter One

Masterlist

Chapter Two

I feel warm. I must be back in my bed. Back? Giggle. It must have all be a night mare. I move my arms to stretch and pain erupts from my side. I open my eyes instantly. I look around. I am not in my bed. I’m in ….well I don’t know where the fuck I am I feel the panic begin to rise in my chest and my mouth opens to scream.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” I look over and see Geralt. Well at least I know where I am again.

“If I want to scream because I got fucking shot and saw a fucking monster rip though a man I should be able to scream if I fucking want! Don’t you think?!” I yell. Geralt narrows he eyes at me then sighs before handing me a cup of water.

“Who are you and How do you know my name?” He ask me. I look from the ceiling back over to him. I see the otherworldly golden eyes looking back at me.

“I’m Y/N. You are from a video-” I try to tell him as a massive throbbing starts in my head. The frown on his face deepensas I whimper. “It’s difficult to say.” I explain rubbing at my temples as the pain starts to fade away.

He stares at me and then leans back and crosses his arms. “Hmm” he says. It’s hard to look away from him. I struggle to sit up. And wince at the pain in my side. “I wouldn’t move too much, I haven't had to stitch someone up in a long while.” He says.

“I need to know exactly where we are.” Demanding him to tell me. He just squints his eyes and looks at me. Just then the door opens and Ciri, who can only be Ciri, walks in the door.

“Geral-“ She starts but then looks at me. A look of recognition stretches across her soft face. She turns to me, wrapping her arms around me as best she can in this position. I place a hand on her. “I know you.” She says. Geralt looks at Ciri with confusion and concern written on her face. The shock must be written across my face at her words.“I’ve seen you in some of my dreams. I’m-”

“Ciri, yes I know.“ I say interrupting her. I stroke her hair. Something clicks into place inside of me and begins to build when she pulls back.In that moment I feel as I am exactly where I should be and it shocks me to my core. She steps back sheepishly. I blink a few times before bringing my hands to my face, rubbing my eyes. When I move my hands from my face Geralt has his sword at my throat. Ciri makes a distressing sound and tries to tell Geralt to stop.

“Ciri not now.” Geralt interrupts his eyes, never leaving mine. “Answer my question.”

“I’m not from here…. I '' I stop. How do I even begin to explain that last night aI fell asleep on my couch watching Seinfeld and now here I am in the middle of what will be an epic shit show.

“What do you mean you are not from around here? Are you from Nilfgaard?” Ciri questions stepping towards me. Geralt ushers her back with his hand.

“She means she is not from our world.”

“How…”

“Explain to me then how you know our names.” Geralt demands

“Where I’m from you-“ Something blocks the words from coming out. “You and Ciri are-“ The words seem to be sucked out of my mouth. A second after my attempts I feel white hot pain lick through my body. Worse than the throbbing in my head. My whole body is still frozen in pain.

“Something is preventing you from saying anything isn’t ?” Geralt says moving his sword. I try once more before the pain radiates more intensely throughout my body. I fell the air sucked from my lungs. The rising panic and pain begins to overwhelm me. Slowly it starts to decrease and breathing becomes easier.

“Okay okay so I can’t tell you where I’m from. I can’t tell you how I got here either, that's because I don’t know.” I sigh in frustration.

“She’s coming with us right Geralt?” Ciri asks as if I am not in the room.

“First I am right here. Second, not to sound needy or anything but I would prefer to stick with you guys. All the shit going happening right now is very concerning.” Smiling at the both of them trying not freak out at the thought of being left behind.

“It’s not safe if you come with us.” Geralt says with the ever present frown on his face. I look to Ciri and almost see the pleading on her face. Geralt looks to Ciri before sighing. “Fine, but I will kill you if you try anything stupid.Ciri, ask Nevillen for some proper clothes for her.” At the sound of his name I jerk up stupidly forgetting about my wounds. The thing building in me grows heavier at that new. Ciri pauses at my movement. I smile at her she smiles back briefly before leaving the room.

I look back to geralt. “We need to leave.” The desperate tone in my voice has geralt frowning again. “You feel something is off here don’t you?” Geralt leans back, shock flickers so fast across his face I barely recognize it. “You don’t want to admit it, fine. We need to leave now all the same.”

“Why?”

“Something-“ The headache starts. “I can’t tell you. You don’t know me. I know you don’t trust easily but at this moment I need you to believe me when I say we should leave.”

“Ciri will be back with clothes for you. I would suggest you bathe while you have the chance.” He says and leaves the room.

“Wait!” I call out and he turns to me. “Thank you for saving my life.” I offer a smile that is returned with a grunt and slight nod of his head.

His evasive grumpiness is going to get old very fast. I huff looking around the old house seeing the holes in the ceiling. Knowing the danger lurking does nothing to easy my anxiety about being here. When the door to the room opens I jump in fright.

“It’s only me.” Ciri breathes out a small laugh. “I brought you clothes. Nevillen has prepaired a bath for you through that door. Do you need help getting there?” She ask with as small smile.

“Yes, please.” I tell her smiling back at her. Ciri come around the bed and helps left me up with a groan coming from my lips. She places a gentle hand around my waist and gides me to the bath. Looking at the warm bathtub with steam rising and bubble has me sighing until I remember that getting in will be painful. Ciri helps me balance on the edge of the tub and holds me as i swing one leg over the other. I sink into the warmth. I pull my nightgown over my head as ciri turns and I drop it with a wet plop to the floor.

“I know you won’t harm us.” Ciri says as she turns and takes a seat on the small stool nex to the bath.

“What do you mean?” I ask, rubbing the dirt from my face.

“The moments I have seen you in my dreams. You were always protecting me like geralt does.” I look at her in shock. “I’m sorry I did mean to overwhelm you.” She looks down at her hands.

“Ciri, what you said doesn’t overwhelm me. Knowing you trust me makes it easier for me to keep you safe if I can.” I place a hand on her arm. She smiles at me again and helps me wash my hair. Eventually We manage to get me out of the tub dried off and into a dress that is warm and unsurprisingly fits perfectly. The issue is taming the wild main of wet curls. Ciri opening a jar and starts running some type of cream though my hair and I manage to braid it in to something acceptable. Ciri loops an arm around my waist and helps me to the dining room. Where Nevillen and Geralt waited for us. Nevillen stands at our entrance.

“Thank you so much for this. My other clothes were ready to run away by themselves.” She says walking to take a seat on one side while I site opposite of her in front of the fire. I give Nevillen my thanks less enthusiastically as Ciri.

When we have taken our seats Nevillen conjures food for us that falls from mid air and smacks the table with a loud thud. Creating messes across the table. I begin eating as the conversation around me continues. I try not to stare at Nevillen, he reminds me of the beast from beauty and the beast. Definitely not as attractive.

“Tell me, fair maiden, how you managed to be traveling with this lot.” Nevillen says, turning his attention to me.

“Well I was about to be raped and sold as a slave.” I stare directly into Nevillen’s eyes as I say that. I see a flash of guilt roll across his face. I continue on. “Until a spider-like monster killed the men who wanted to sell me, Geralt showed up and killed the monster, and saved my life.” I peek at Geralt and find his eyes on me quite intently. “Which pretty much sums up my first day here.” I laugh. The awkward tense moment is broken as Nevillen begins to tell the story of how he met geralt. He’s quite entertaining. I could find myself liking him if only I didn’t know what he had done.

The conversations turns, when geralt when geralt ask about his curse. Nevillen pause for a moment and launches into his tale about desiccating the temple.

“This priestess cursed me to live like this. Forever alone.” Geralt grunts at this before replying.

“All curses have cures. What did she say?” He ask.

“She screamed something about love and blood. I don’t remember. I’ll be honest. I have tried to end it, more than once. But I kept coming back.That priestess won’t let me off so easy.” He finishes.

“Surely something that tragic would be burned into your memory. Are you sure that is all that she said? I doubt a priestess would curse you to live forever alone for simply trashing the temple.” I push him a slight edge entering my voice. I wince slightly as I feel a sliver of pain through my head as a warning for me to shut my mouth. I stare at him again. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Geralt's eye practically burning in my direction.

“As I said , I don't remember much.” He says looking at me before breaking eye contact. He knows I know he’s lying. About what specifically he’s not sure. I can tell by the slight wrinkle in his head.

We move to the sitting room. I sit across from ciri letting her teal me how to play the board game between us. Geralt mentions the village being abandoned asking what happened. Ciri and I both pause the game to listen. Nevillen gives almost believable explanations as to why there is not a person in sight down there. Going on about the wild hunt. Saying he’s seen them moving across the sky. Ciri joins the conversation as i sit back and make brief eye contact with geralt before his attention returns the conversation.

The conversation halts as Ciri ask about Nevillen having a cat. Nevillen reassures her that the cat is fine. I feel the anger at his lies as my stomach seems to coil into tight knots. I try to keep my face expressionless. He goes on to tell us he’s glad of her company calling her vereena. I see the poker face on Geralt as he questions Nevillen about his curse. Ciri joining in as well. I see Nevillen quickly change the subject.

Geralt ask about scouting the house. Assuring our safety. Ciri reassures him that we will be fine. He looks at me and I give him a small nod telling him I will keep Ciri safe before walking out. Nevillen the breaks out a moving lamp and begins telling us about the fall of the elders. I simply observe the conversation until Ciri beings to talk about Mousesack. The regret of not being able to save everyone.

I feel an ache in my heart I have not felt fully in a long while. “Ciri, there is nothing that could have been done. I know that will not stop that ache in your chest. All of them loved you so much they gave everything to keep you safe. You must love them by continuing on uninhibited by guilt.” I say softly. Tears well in her eyes at my word and I stoke a hand down her hair in comfort. I feel Nevillen’s eyes on us.

The conversation turns to loneliness, something we all seem to share even if I don't express it. I hear the guilt in his voice and a war begins inside of me. He offers to show us to our rooms and when I try to stand I find that I am physically unable to move. I curse at this as they both turn to look at me.

“I will stay here for awhile ,you go on to bed.” I smile. I desperately try to move to get to Ciri. Eventually my head begins to throb this time I can feel the blood dripping down my nose as I fight against whatever this is. My energy drains quickly and I. I sit there awhile staring into the flames of the fire trying to figure out my roll in this fucked up renesance fair at seemed to be trapped in. I take a deep breath knowing Ciri will be safe but I’m here and that could change the course of things .Ciri insists that I am here to help her. That still doesn’t explain how I got her or when I will be able to go back home.

Feeling stiff I try to stand again and nothing holds me back . I stand and begin to explore the house. The first room I walk into is a rather nice sized library. I huff out a laugh at the sight. Feelin the beast and the monster vibe instead of beauty. I grab one book and find I understand the strange symbols on the page,even though I know it's not of my world. I dive in the tail in the book about the beginning of mages when I hear thwack against the wall. I close the book and set it to the side walking down the hall hearing the voices of Nevillen and Geralt.

“-start with the obvious. How in the name of all that is sacred, How did you find yourself looking after a young girl?” Nivillen questions.

I promised her grandmother before she died.” He says.

“And the rather fetching young maiden?” Nevillen ask.

“I’m not sure. That is yet to be seen.” Geralt says. I hear another thwack and Nevillen laugh asking Geralt what his plan is.

“Keep Ciri alive. Figure out what to do with Y/N.” Well I can’t say I’m surprised at that. However little does he know I will not be going anywhere without Ciri. Her dreams of me makes me think I could be here to help her somehow. This strange connection between the two us might explain some things. If I can keep her safe maybe I will be able to go back home. I return back to the conversation between the two of them. I hear Nevillen questioning geralt claiming a child surprise asking him what made him change.

“Who….Yennifer of Vengerberg.

“And where is this rarest and fairest of all maidens?The one who could crack an icy Witchers heart?” Nivillen laughs.

“She’s dead.” Geralt says. The lightest bit of sadness bleeding through.

“I’m sorry, my boy. How long ago?” He ask. Sorrow more openly lacing his tone.

“A few days.”

“How are you not heart broken?”

“Who says I'm not?” Geralt answers back. I feel my own heart breaking as I thought of my parents death for the second time since coming here. They have been gone almost 17 years and listening to geralt's words makes it feel like it happened yesterday. I wipe the tears I didn’t know that I had off of my face. I turn and start walking down the hall to the room I’m sharing with ciri. I hear the chittering in the ceiling. I look up already knowing what’s up there. I see her peak an eye in a hole looking at me.

“I know what you are, Vereena.” I call out looking at her. Cringing as the light throb. She pulls herself from the whole climbing down the wall like something in the grunge. My heart starts beating faster as she gets closer.

“I know what you are. You are like the child but different. Is she your daughter?” She ask me. Her voice echoing in my head.

“No, she is not. She is someone I care for though. I don’t want to see her hurt.” I tell her.

“I have no intentions of hurting the child.” She says her head twitching from side to side.

“Good intentions often lead to bad actions.” I tell her. The weight inside gets heavier.

“Will you tell the monster killer about me?” She turns her head to the right waiting for me to answer.

“No.” I whisper. Desperately wishing I could.

“Then I will not hurt her.” She says with finality and begins crawling back up the wall and in to the hole she came from. I sigh, questioning how I’m supposed to help when I can not warn a single person about anything. Even knowing what happens next is completely out of my control. I walk in to see Ciri's face soften in her sleep. I smile before getting into the bed next to her. Even after being awake for a few hours I feel drained so much so the second my head hits the pillow I'm out like a light.

#geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher netflix #geralt x you #geralt and ciri

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lilyharvord · 5 months

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been thinking about AUs lately, mostly becuase I have had so little time to write due to craziness, and I got back on my bullshit about meeting your soulmate and their first word being tattooed on your skin. And just... the implications of that?

Mare with the word "thief" tattooed on her wrist and having to cover it so as to not give herself away in the Stilts, but when/if she gets caught by officers they see it while they detain her and even if she didn't do anything she ends up locked up for the night because of that word. So she comes to hate it with a passion and tried scrubbing it off, and mutilating it as she grew up to remove it, to hide herself better as she starts to steal more and more to survive. But she would wake up with it perfectly healed. And it is in such pretty penmanship, waaaaay too nice to be a Red's handwritting, or even an officer's in the Stilts. And that scares her, so she forces herself to hold onto the belief that maybe it belongs to some Red who assists a general or something and they have to write a lot and she will meet them at the Choke. When Kilorn sees it for the first time while he is helping clean her up after a particularly bad night in a cell, he realizes he can never be hers because it was no where near his first word to her.

Cal has the word "obviously", and it is so obviously the dumbest fucking word to have. It is literally the most common word. The amount of times he has heard the words "obviously" in his life and turned around only to realize it is someone he already knows? Stupid, absolutely ridiculous. And not to mention that the way it is written on his wrist is horrific and makes him question if this person ever really learned how to write properly. The good news? He can hide it underneath his flamemaker and forget about it if he needs to. And he does, pretty much decides that he'll probably just never meet whoever it is. Besides... he has to marry a lady of a High House, and he's already met all of them and none of them said that word to him on the first go. And it doesn't really matter... it is so rare for a future king to marry their soul mate through Queenstrial anyway. His father was just lucky with his mother, and his grandfather of course met his but got away with keeping him and marrying a Queen. And maybe it's for the best if he never meets this person, it would just be a twist of the knife if he is already married and meets the person who is meant to complete him.

And then, one night, on a dirt road, in the hours before night and dawn, when the stars are still out and the world is dreaming, a thief sticks her hand into the pocket of prince, who catches her wrist, and accuses her with a surprised and confused tone: "thief", and she tilts her head to the side, her eyes sparking as she replies "Obviously". And it takes everything for him not to flip her wrist over and look for the word he just uttered, but he lets go instead, terrified that this is the girl who is meant to come into his life and complete him. And she backs up a step, her eyes darkening as she looks him over anew. Neither comments, neither admits to anything. And Mare is glad for it, because the next day she learns he is a prince, and not just any prince, he is The Prince, and she immediately is relieved because there is no way in all of heaven and earth that she is paired with this man. She didn't see her reply on his wrist... she forces herself to believe that there is a different word tattooed there. That if she were to lift up his sleeve she would see something else, some meaningless word to her, that means everything to him. She never looks though, and he never takes off his flamemaker, so she never has the chance to see.

Then, one evening, in a soldiers barrack, on a Piedmont base in the middle of a summer shower, complete with the distant growl of thunder: Mare glances at his bare arm, wrapped around her bare waist. It would be so easy for her to just, gently turn it and look, to answer the question that has haunted her since a Blackrun fell from the sky, and he held her like they were going to die. She shivers subconsciously and gently reaches down to slide her fingers through his, her heart pounding against her ribs. She can't decide if she wants to see the word there, or if she doesn't. She doesn't know which way would be better, whether it would break her heart if it wasn't, or if she were be terrified if it were. He sighs against her neck and pulls her a little closer when she first goes to rotate his wrist, she freezes, tensing for a heartbeat. He's a soldier, they sleep lightly, and this feels like an invasion even though she has now seen and touched every part of him. For some reason this one spot of skin feels forbidden. Inhaling, she slowly rotates his wrist to face up, and her entire skin erupts in goosebumps as lightning illuminates the room and thunder crashes a heartbeat later. There is her hand writing, her ugly, horrific handwriting, and there is the word she said to him with such tenacity on a dirt road and changed their lives forever. She flips his hand back over and pressed it to her stomach, knots her fingers with his as she tries to slow her breathing back to a sleeping rate. It's no use though, his sigh against her neck is no longer a gentle whisper, but is instead one of relief. "I wanted you to look first." He murmurs against the vertebrae at the base of her skull, before lightly running his lips up to her ear. "I think knew in my heart since the Bowl of Bones." He squeezes her fingers softly, and they never speak of it.

Then he choses a crown, a crown over what those words on their wrists' mean. And that betrayal is so much worse than it ever could have been.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #marecal #aus #soul mate AUs #listen I think about AUs for them almost daily #but this one is haunting me #imagine.... imagine the BETRAYAL #her finding out he is her soulmate #and and thinking that it means they will survive this together #that his ideals are her own #that his heart shares what her heart does #AND THEN IT IS NOT TRUE #oh my god I wanna climb the walls over this #the way her world would shatter worse than it did in the actual canon #the way he would be DEVESTATED when she turns and leaves him #oh my god how they would both feel like the other betrayed them #god I love --#i Love them so much your honor #my writing #my ideas #my AUs #god I would write this as a bunch of small snippits if only to write the moment on the balcony at the end of kings cage #and the dinner scene but Mare tugs her sleeve down when Carmadon looks at the two of them to hide that word like it is some horrible thing #and when they are standing under the wing and she is telling him goodbye and not to wait?#oh my god the agony he would feel

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cosmicjoke · 6 months

Note

So what do you think Levi’s recovery during the three years have been like? I’ve always thought about this esp since Marley would probably been a bit iffy about tending to him straight away, and the fact he had internal bleeding, crushed leg, other burns (poor thing) + not to mention that he was pushing his body beyond his limit. Its pretty obvious that he needed medical attention asap

Man, I think it must have been pretty intense, and a very long recovery at that. Months, maybe even years for him to recover as much as he was able, and certainly, he won't ever be the same physically again. You don't go through that kind of physical trauma and ever fully recover. Don't forget Levi's blind in his right eye now as well, which probably really messed with his depth perception and his ability to gauge accurately what distance things are at and where they are spatially in relation to himself. A lot of physical therapy involved, probably having to learn to really walk again, having to learn to get around missing his index and middle fingers on his right hand, and clearly, since we see him needing a wheelchair, I imagine he's probably got a pretty severe limp when he does walk. I think the wheelchair is because he likely can't walk long distances anymore. Levi took a brutal, brutal beating. He probably experiences a good amount of physical pain still too.

Given the Marely' soldiers initial hostility at the end toward the Eldian's, yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if they were reluctant and less than professional in giving Levi the medical care he needed. Though I imagine he must have gotten it eventually. Onyankopon and the others wouldn't have allowed Levi to be mistreated, I'm sure. But it was probably a struggle to get him the care he needed. I also imagine Levi probably needed to be hospitalized for a long time. Probably several weeks. He was dealing with serious, internal injuries. Internal bleeding is always really scary. I wouldn't be surprised if he had ruptured organs. I also imagine his leg was likely broken, meaning broken bones, on top of severe lacerations and puncture wounds, all of which had the potential to become infected. That on top of the wounds he suffered from the thunderspear explosion, which also had the potential to become infected. Given how Levi was running around in the battle, with debris and blood and dirt flying all around him, I wouldn't be surprised if his wounds did become infected at one point, which would have complicated his recovery all the more. Suffice it to say, Levi's recovery must have been brutal, and likely something he won't ever be completely done with. Like I said, he won't be the same physically again.

That reality is part of what makes how we see him at the end so astounding. He's still out there, helping others, not succumbing to self-pity or resentment, when he himself has personally lost so much, including the function of his body. He's an incredible human being. An example of what we should all strive to be.

#Levi Ackerman

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makriiii · 10 months

Text

Caught VII (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 2.5k

Authors notes: Sorry this ones a bit short, but, !Arthur pov alert. Arthur pov long over due 😼

Warnings: 18+, angst, cursing, alcohol.

Ao3 or wattpad!

@thatlittlered

Caught VII

"Y'all sure you don't want to go to the motel?" You question, the night had been long, and the motel just minutes away called your name in from the distance.

You couldn't tell why they didn't hear their names too, but it wasn't much of your concern.

"Im savin' my money." Sean insinuates a bad purchase, but you thought it a great purchase.

"Alright then." You dismiss, indifferent either way. Your mare already turned before you had to ask. She wanted you off her back and you could completely understand why.

The gaslight's outside the motel welcomed you in warmly. The dreams of a bed that didn't greet the floor directly and a private room finally upon you, and you simply couldn't be happier.

"Oh." The clerk blurts, scrambling upright, not having expected more company tonight. "You're lucky. Just one more room."

You could work with that. You only needed one, after all.

You payed him the asked amount, keeping your earnings from tonight out of sight just under the desk.

All that stood between you and a good nights sleep was a flight of stairs and a lock that would accept the key in your hand.

You took two stairs at a time, stumbling upon your room rather quickly. The inside wasn't impressive by any means. The dimensions for a cost efficient build made it cramped, but that arguably gave it charm.

Best money could buy around here, at least.

Locking the door behind you, you stand in the middle of the room. The smokey smell of your clothes had you nose blind this entire time, which made your shirt slightly more acceptable to wear to bed.

Certainly wouldn't go commando, not tonight. The creek happening nailed its self in your mind.

Slipping off most everything besides your shirt and undergarments, you discarded the best of it to the side of your bed. and landed like a sack of potatoes right down onto the bed, sinking into it with comfort.

You didn't reminisce much on todays activities either, your head heavy with drowsiness that had you falling asleep within minutes.

Your eyes blinked open unwillingly in response to the knocking that grew with ferocity, desperate and pleading with you to both wake up and answer the door.

It was still dark through the windows but the sound of rain now accompanied the sounds from the outside.

Your brows knit together, a sleepy, confused daze held you from being completely alert. Hell, your brain was so out of it you could hardly process the knocking.

You bent down to grab your gun, checking the round before tiptoeing to the door.

Pressing your ear up against the wood when the knocking stopped, you heard no whispering. Just a sudden bang again from someones fist which shook your entire frame.

If that wasn't enough to wake you up, then it would be the anger you felt from whoever's inconsiderate act this was at this time in the morning.

You swung the door open, gun cocked and aimed at the persons face.

Through the darkness, you could make out your most-hated-to-date man's face.

His shoulders slumped, wet and the perfect image of a soaked puppy dog at the foot of someones door.

"No." You lay your gun away, clenching your jaw with how much audacity this man had.

He stared at you with pleading eyes. Yet, too cowardice to say the words that'd have his chances of getting in just slightly better.

Water droplets fell from the rim of his hat, aiding in his case. But it wasn't enough. Especially after all that banging.

He must've stuck up the poor guy downstairs to find out what room you were in. The last room.

You pushed the door closed after the moments of eye contact you held. Less than happy when it wouldn't close all the way, due to foreseen forces.

"This is my room, shoulda gotten here before-"

"Please, y/n."

Your cheeks rose with a tired smirk. That was a word you could count on hearing from him, never.

"Say it again. More sincerely this time." You demand, holding the door just closed enough that he couldn't weasel his way in.

His lips thinned with reluctance, his pride no doubt took a hit from this. And it delighted you beyond words.

"Y/n, please, just tonight." It wasn't much better, but his tone was enough, you suppose.

You feigned contemplation, which filled his face with desperate prayer.

"Five bucks and I'll let you in." You snickered in elation when he begrudgingly reached for your requested amount and slapped it down in your hand.

You let open the door, leaving the money on top of your pile of clothing. Retreating back into your bed before he strode all the way in.

His gun belt dropped to the floor, followed by his actual belt atop his pants. His boots kicked off haphazardly to different spots on the floor.

You did everything in your power to not turn over and catch a glimpse. Though the need for it in the first place confused you. You didn't like this man.

It went quiet after he'd dropped his wet coat to the floor. Your mind filling with all that had happened back at the creek.

You made sure to take up a great deal of the bed, definitely to help him ward off any thoughts of joining you. You felt his eyes on you.

Or was he already on the floor, lying down? You couldn't tell.

"You'll enjoy the floor, Arthur. Now please stop staring at me so I can sleep in peace."

You could only guess the second part. As you really didn't know if it was paranoia or if he was just standing there.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor." Now your eyes shot open, glaring at him in his loose shirt and boxers, who was in fact, just standing there.

It took everything you had to not grab your gun again and kick him out.

"Do you know how well I was sleeping until some sad, begging, dirty man, came up and slammed on my door?"

"Great, I'm sure. Scoot over please."

You shot out your hand, a defiant no sign. This was no bed for Arthur. Just you.

He took a step closer and you shook your head. "Floor, or back outside."

"I paid my fee. It's only fair. Five dollars is a lot to give you secondhand."

You stood your ground, spreading yourself further in the middle of the bed.

"Don't care. This is barely big enough for me." That wasn't entirely true, and that's why he was persistent. He knew your game.

He stepped closer again, reaching the side of the bed.

This man. You honestly couldn't believe him.

"Ten and I'll let you have the very edge." You wanted to go back go sleep, be over with this.

He wasn't the type to take advantage of you. You had enough close run ins to tell he wouldn't.

This was rather a matter of who could be the worse pain in the ass. And right now, the only reason you gave up, was to have time to sleep.

"You-" He holds himself back, your face twisting with pleasure as he does.

"'Yes ma'am.'" You encouraged. If that were even the right word for it. If he didn't, you'd stick him up and leave him as sad as he came.

"Yes ma'am." Every muscle in his face tensed with frustration and broken pride. You loved it.

Unenthusiastically, you gave him enough space to join you, but you certainly gave your self more room than necessary. Truly only leaving him the bare edge.

He sat down, and when he did, the bed sunk. You started sliding even further on his side, into him even.

"I hardly can sit my whole ass on here, woman. Now move."

You stayed still as a rock. A ever so big grin revealing your intentions.

If he was to impede on your room, your sleep, your bed. You were to impede on his space.

He gives you a grumble before laying down close to the edge. His back against yours with a few irritated exhales. His shirt was slightly damp from the rain but he was warm, sure to dry it on his own soon enough.

"You better not snore." You whisper to him, a wave of languid exhaustion hitting you again.

He yawns in response, faking a few loud snores before you kick him with your leg.

His laugh came out sapped and dry, happy with annoying you one last time. "Snoring isn't as bad as sleeping next to a smoked turkey."

"I offered you the most bang for your buck. " Griping at the smug bastard as you shuffle away further. "The floor."

The darkness around you twisted and turned, slowly loosing consciousness in your pillow when Arthur finally stopped talking.

You felt fine with him in here, safer, even. But you back tracked with that thought, denying it with every bone in your body. It was obvious the reason for that.

Another loud knock at the door caused both you and Arthur to jerk back awake.

"You've got to be kidding me." You groan, rubbing your sore and smoked out eyes. You didn't want to get up, not again.

You reach behind and pat Arthurs arm. You didn't even have to say anything before he obliged and got up to see who it was.

Sean's unmistakable accent mumbled through the door. Bill's too if you heard correctly.

Damn it all. All of them in the room you wanted to yourself. You gave up. Pushing your face further into the pillow.

"You want me to let them in?" Arthur questions softly. That was a first, asking you your thoughts on something.

You murmur out a small whatever. "They likely won't give up if you turn them away."

With that, the door creaked open reluctantly, a few more footsteps joining you inside the room.

"Arthur?" Sean sounded dumbfounded by who opened the door for him. "You snakey bastard you." He chuckles lowly, clearly getting at something.

"Be quiet, Sean. If it were just me Id've not let you in." Arthur hurries him in, Bill not short behind. "Make yourselves comfortable. On the floor."

"Good enough for me." Bill clearly just happy he got to escape the rain.

"Hope we didn't interrupt anythin'." Sean added more with the teasing. Not even traveling all day and being inside a barn oven stopped him from it.

Arthur shoves him away to a far corner of the room before joining you back in bed again. "Just shut the hell up."

Much to your relief you felt this was finally the end of it. Sleep quick to claim you. With the relenting forces that prevented you previous.

Arthur's pov.

Arthur sat with a drink in his hand, next to Bill and Sean, you on the other side of them.

He was back in town, near back to camp, but got talked into having 'just one drink' at Smithfield's, to celebrate all the money found at the Secord's place.

The vivid memory of you standing in that flaming building, and thinking you had been crushed by the loft kept in his mind.

Yet, you? You seemed to have completely forgotten about it now.

A faint zap of adrenaline rose up with the thought, quick to be pushed down by the liquor in the mug he held.

The rush he felt, using the butt of his shotgun and then his foot. He wasn't entirely sure he'd get you out.

Rather, he wasn't sure why he had saved you. The first time, after shooting you, he had more of a reason, but now that reason had faded.

He couldn't say he really regretted shooting you. You made him atone everyday and now you were in his gang, the nagging a helluva lot easier to do.

He felt he had every right to shoot you. By his rulebook at least. But you also had every right to be as irate as you were.

He didn't like you. You didn't like him. That much had been established and agreed on.

Arthurs thoughts flew around in his head. This being the only time he really relfected on it.

It confused him even further when you had saved him from that other O'Driscoll and he still didn't have much of a clue as to why.

"You're bein' awfully quiet, Arthur." Bill's hand met his shoulder for a second, shaking Arthur out of his thoughts.

Arthur looked down at the line of you all on the bar. Your face at the end of it, eyeing him expectantly.

"He's outta be makin' sure he doesn't drink too much." Y/n was starting it up again, that cocky smile on her face that he'd love to wipe right off.

"When'd he last get drunk?" Sean questions looking over to you, egging you on.

"Less than a week ago. Boy, you don't even wanna know. " You exaggerated it, of course. He knew you didn't remember much either. That sent off a string of laughter, Bill and Sean shook their heads in agreement.

"You shoulda seen him before we got chased out of blackwater!" Sean's voice was still with rasp, though not as bad as last night.

Arthur couldn't believe it. Not much stopped that girl from making his life increasingly difficult. Sean and you were a dangerous duo, run him straight back out of town.

Sean retold the story of how Arthur got blackout drunk. Meanwhile, Arthur couldn't remember just about anything from that night, and at this rate, Sean had to be making this shit up.

"I don't think any of this happened." Arthur finally announced his desire to stick up for himself, but by that time it was already too late.

All of you except him were having the time of your life, laughing at his unfortunate drunk run all those weeks ago.

Though, a small smile cracked at his lips. The collective chuckling getting to him, even if it was to tease and mock.

The conversation - if you could even call it that, rather bullying, finally came to a slow end.

And surprisingly, the 'just one drink' promise actually held validity, Bill and Sean popping the tender a few coins.

As soon as they cleared out, you marched straight up to him, leaning over to be level with his face.

Arthur put on a 'don't pester me now' face, and to no surprise to him, it did nothing.

"You can pay for my drink." You chime, more than happy to cheat him out of his money again.

God, he hated every word that came out of your mouth. Being an O'Driscoll, it was nothing short of innate in him to despise you.

Yet even through his self assurances, he couldn't convince himself that he understood what he felt for you.

The creek incident. Oh, he had fun with that, but the sight of your bare body sitting on that rock.

It'd take his last breath before he admitted anything of the lustful nature.

---

Is it really an enemies to lovers if theres no cliche one bed trope?

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #enemies to lovers #lemon fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction

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gabessquishytum · 9 months

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fjakjdjdn I promised myself I wouldn't send so many asks but I can send one, right.

Pregnant Corinthian

It would look so good on him! Dream can make him pregnant, or maybe he went and found himself a partner (cough, cough, Hob) because he wanted a kid because kids are cute and fun and he wants a little apprentice nightmare, but oops, he caught feeling while trying to get knocked up!

Pregnancy is uncomfortable. Hob would care for him 24/7 until his own body would give out and even after that. But Corinthian has to spend most time in the Dreaming as not to make Dream angry/suspicious, and he has to do his job. So, he is very brave about it and goes without daily foot rubs (gasp!)

Dream notices Cori is pregnant, or pregnant as fuck, to be exact, with big round belly, and he is all sympathetic and who did this to you, let me help you, take a vacation... Long story short, Dream runs into Cori two days later, at Hob's place where he is being pampered and treated like royalty.

Something something threesome. And honestly, I think Dream would be in the middle of the sandwich. He would suck Cori off or eat him out while he's just sitting there like a pillow princess, and behind them Hob would pound Dream's ass until he starts begging for mercy! 💕

- 🚒

🚒 anon! Don't ever feel like you're sending too much! It's OK, I can handle it! Anyway... the words pregnant corinthian have been bouncing around my head all day.... I mean it sounds insane but I am obsessed???? Yeah get that man pregnant!!!

What if. He fucked both Dream and Hob. And he's not entirely sure who the babydaddy is (Dream could probably find out but he won't tell). So he's drifting between the dreaming and Hob’s flat, wanting to be around both of them. He really is pregnant as FUCK at this point, and even Dream is acting all concerned. He agrees that it would clearly just be easier if they all go and hang out in the waking at Hob’s flat.

(The baby seems to prefer being in the waking, which leads Cori to suspect that it's Hob’s kid. But then again, nightmares thrive in the waking world so it could just be that.)

Cori's too uncomfortable to have either of their dicks near his hole at the moment. The baby is uncannily big and putting a lot of pressure on his bladder, so Dream and Hob can only finger him a little before he wants to stop. Instead, he demands blowjobs and belly rubs and he whines until Hob sucks his little titties or pumps them for him.

He frequently cries about feeling so big and bloated, and he does look pretty massive by the time he's reached full term. His belly has really taken up the challenge of matching his tall, broad frame. But Dream and Hob have found a new thing to bond over: their love for Cori's pregnant form. They never shut up about how massive and gorgeous he is, how he was made to be their brood mare... no one even talks about who the daddy is anymore. Dream and Hob both consider the baby to be theirs: a shared love for the new little nightmare that will soon be greeting the waking world.

#🚒 anon #the sandman #hobrintheus #hobrinthian #corintheus #dreamling #nsft #cw mpreg #cw pregnancy

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blubushie · 4 months

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"The story of me being a stupid drover and the punishment what followed" gets my vote

Congratulations, you've chosen the [CORPORAL PUNISHMENT] route!

A TALE OF STOCKWHIPS

Warnings for: corporal punishment, flogging, being restrained, and feelings of helplessness. READ YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

So from 2019 to 2020 (keep in mind I was eighteen in 2019) I worked as a stockman. And I'm a bleeding heart--I don't like hurting animals. I avoid it when possible and especially back then.

This was the first mob I was with. It was May of 2019, I'd only been back in Australia for a month and I was just recently promoted to wrangler at this point, so I was still learning the ropes of working with a team. I'd worked on stations as a lad and teen helping to drive cattle, but I'd never been a wrangler outside of steer and calf work. And working calves what weigh 100kg as a 5-foot 14-year-old weighing 50kg isn't that difficult. It's a lot different when you're a 5'2" just-become-a-man scrawny bloke weighing 70kg wet and you're trying to wrangle an animal what weighs 650kg.

Less rope, less brawn, and a lot more brains. Brains which I had not yet acquired!

A bull broke away from the mob. Big bloke, maybe 800kg, and I had to run him down cuz that's my job now. I break away from the mob, and Wiluna and I start a pursuit. She loved it. She lived for that shit. Me too.

Up until this point, all the cattle I'd run had banked back to the mob on their own. I crack my stockwhip a long distance behind them and it's no worries, they'll run up alongside the mob and eventually merge in.

This one didn't do that.

He goes left and I pursue him. I keep on his tail and Wiluna overtakes him on the left. We push him right, back toward the mob. But this cunt had a couple roos loose in his paddock--he doesn't run alongside the mob but instead he just charges it broadside. He's rushing toward the mob from the side and I hesitate.

I'd never whipped the hide of cattle. When I crack my whip I'm a good distance behind them. I'd never had to touch their hide with the whip, aside from a tap of the stock, because they self-correct at the mere sound of the whip on whichever side is opposite of where I want them to go. A crack left drives them right, a crack right drives them left, etc.

But he's banking right toward the mob. I crack the whip on his right side. It doesn't touch him. Go left and merge! He's not moving. I crack it again. Merge, damn you. He's not moving. He's still heading flat chat for the mob.

There was about a five-second where I could've cracked him directly on his hide and he probably would've flinches and either stopped entirely, or gone left to run alongside the mob and merge in. But I'm a bleeding heart and don't want to hurt him, so I don't take the opportunity.

He crashed into the mob. One of the stockmen in the middle of the mob is caught in the row. His horse is sent to the ground with him still on her, and then the mob rushes. I see him go down and disappear into the sea of cattle, my heart sinks into my balls, but I have to leave him behind to help my other stockmen stop the rush.

Maybe fifteen minutes later I'm circling the mob of about six-hundred head with my other stockmen. In the whirlpool of cattle I see a horse's head pop up. A few seconds later I see my stockman's head as he's climbing back into the saddle. Immediate sigh of relief. (He'd told us later that his mare had stood over him like he was a foal to protect him from the cattle until the rush cleared. She's a good horse.)

Now, rushes usually happen at night. Countless stockmen have been killed by them. Often they're trampled while still in their swags. It's a horrible death. If a rush happens and comes toward your camp, your best bet is to drop everything and climb a tree. Wiluna was a great night horse because of her ability to see in the ark and wheel the cattle into a calm.

Why do I mention this?

Well, cattle rarely rush during the day, and when they do it's usually the result of stockmen error. Like mine.

We check to make sure everyone's alright, and it seems so. My stockman's mare is a mite unsteady, but she's also breathing real hard, so we figure she's just exhausted. We give her time and she settles and recovers within the hour. We get moving again once she's been watered and checked out by our oldest equestrian.

The rest of the day is uneventful, but I keep my head down and stay at the back of the mob cuz I feel terrible. Outside of the day I lost Wiluna, this event was my greatest failure as a stockman, and I couldn't look any of my muster mates in the face out of shame cuz I'm the bloke what almost got Dale killed.

As always, that night I hobble Wiluna a couple hundred metres from the mob. Wiluna was very feisty mare and would bite horses and raise hell all night if hobbled with them, so she'd stay with me. And I can't sleep around people, so it's just be me and her away from the mob and the rest of the stockmen. I was a heavier sleeper then, and I slept on my side. Neither of these are true now.

By the time I hear the voices clear enough to wake up, two of my muster mates jump me. And I've got a history with this shit, so it's an immediate panic. My right arm's pinned under my own weight where one of them is kneeling on my ribs, the other bloke bloke has my left arm, and I'm kicking my legs in the dirt but not getting anywhere.

They rolls me onto my stomach and stretch my arms out and kneel on them. And I'm still trying to get up, but it's not exactly possible with the positioning. The bloke on my left reaches down my left side and grabs my stockwhip from where it's hooked in my belt, and he passes it to someone behind me. I can't see who it is.

All the while, off to my right, I can hear Wiluna somewhere off to my right, snorting and roaring. This only panics me further, cuz horses have a Certain Intuition and they bond with their stockman, they protect their stockman from cattle and other such threats, and the way she's roaring is telling me that she thinks I'm in danger. And I might've only just known this horse for the past few weeks, but when we crossed Warburton Creek and lost three heads she wouldn't cross cuz she knew the current was too strong. Through the sandstorm the previous week, through leading us to a watering hole during the autumn drought--Wiluna was the one what kept realising we were up Shit Creek and she was consistently the one getting us out. Wiluna wasn't an Australian stockhorse--she was a brumby, and her ancestors survived the harsh country through their intuition and instinct.

And that instinct was currently telling her that I was in danger.

I hear footsteps and the stockman what was knocked down earlier, Dale, he comes over to me and kneels down in front of me. He reaches over and grabs a fistful of my shirt at the waist and pulls it free of my daks, and he tugs it up until my whole back's exposed. And I'm huffing and swearing and hissing threats through the dirt in my teeth, but he stops there. Just holds my shirt where it is.

I hear some chatter behind me, and I recognise the voice of our muster master, the boss drover. And at first I think he's gonna interrupt whatever hazing bullshit is happening her, cuz he was always friendly with me and patient good for a talk. Nobody else on our team ever really cared for me much, but my muster master was kind. Or at least I thought he was.

I hear the wssh of leather. I know that sound. Know it intimately. It's the sound of a whip's fall coming loose.

I flinch when it touches my shoulder. Just falls across it to touch the dirt in front of me. I turn my head to look at it. I see the red leather of the fall, and then I see the grey hairs of the cracker, and that's Wiluna's hair, and that's my whip, and I am in danger and very fucking scared.

The whip pulls back. From my trap and down my shoulder blades and spine to my lumbar and the back of my daks and thighs until I can't feel it anymore. I hear it crack somewhere far above my head. Sharp as it cuts the air. I hear Wiluna snort at the sound. And I get real fucking tense. Dale sounds sympathetic when he tells me not to do that cuz it's just gonna hurt more if I do. But I stay tense, cuz "just relax" is easier said than done when you've got a bare back and can hear a whip crack.

The first lash felt like being cut. The cracker didn't hit me, cuz I reckon it woulda broke skin if it had, but I was lashed with the thong, that thick leather that tapers out which the fall is tied onto. It met my right shoulder just above the blade and ripped diagonally down my back to the waistband of my daks, almost reaching my left side. The noise I made was somewhere between a scream and a yelp. Real short, and left me gasping.

Boss raises his voice and asks how many lashes the bull would've needed for a redirection. Someone says five, someone says six, but Boss is waiting on Dale, cuz Dale was the wrangler before I came along, and he's the one what almost got killed. I realised Dale is holding my suffering in his hands. Terrifying. He doesn't owe me any kindnesses or mercy.

But Dale says three.

The word barely escaped his mouth when I got the second lash.

I'm hissing and groaning and they give me a few seconds to stop sucking wind so hard, and then I got my third. That one was the worst. Stockmen--especially senior stockmen like the Boss--have incredible aim with our whips, so each lash was laid neatly over the first. And even with my sobbing and writhing, it was perfect placement.

And then everyone got up and let me lie there and catch my breath. My stockwhip, rolled up now, lands in the dirt in front of me. I can see the group walking away, and Boss yells back that if I give a bullock has as hard as what I just got, I'll be just fine. Then everyone disappeared back for the main camp, and I was left alone to languish for the night. I went to Wiluna first to calm her down.

I wore that welt for almost two weeks.

#blu whos #bushman

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blorbologist · 1 year

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Could I get a Daughters or Dolls with the Briarwoods?

(this entire au concept Fascinates me)

I hope you're ready for something Fucked Up! :D

Sylas dabs at his mouth with a white kerchief. The initials are blotted out by blood. There’s maybe the rib of a J, the broken limbs of an M. The chest of an R?

He tosses it, ruined, to the side and begins to busy himself with Delilah’s corset.

“Mmm,” she sighs. Sylas feels the artery gurgle against the scab forming on her wrist, her wrist on his neck, her arms looped around his neck, less arms and more a neat noose of pulsing blood. Capillaries, veins, pooling and drawing back.

He chuckles against her throat. “You’re always in a mood, after,” Sylas murmurs.

“What can I say? It does me good to see you alive, love.” She says love like she says decomposition like she says Sylas like she doesn’t say Vecna.

“There might be something to it - to me,” continues Delilah, brown eyes stealing something violet from the evening sky. One of her many magic tricks. “The fact it was my pact with Vecna that brought you to this life? Or - hm. I do like the hypothesis that it’s the long-term necromantic magics-”

Sylas dutifully hums and purrs as his wife dabbles in her speculation. Offers himself, as usual, as her test subject. Pry him open, cut him apart, take his rib and make him again. He wouldn’t mind. She would, is the trouble, and so she takes out her frustration on something. Things that would not be missed, before. Now anything that takes her fancy. Almost.

She’s moved on from the necromancy-vampirism interactions to something like livestock breeding. “There should be a good source of magic to the girl, is the thing. These families have hardly had any outcrossing, bred back to eachother for generations at such a pulsepoint of the leylines. And that tree, too, and the ziggurat.”

He’s moved on from her corset (gone) to her dress (not yet, only because she would be cross if he tore it. He wants to.). “And yet not a lick of magic in the main line, or the offshoots! No, it’s this baseborn little thing that is tapped in.”

Tapped, tapped. Tap, tap, her fingers on his chest. “So much potential, the both of them. I could make them both. Make them, Sylas. Build them into something grand.” Delilah’s face twists into a sneer, twists into his neck. The damn buttons are giving him trouble. Fucking claws. “Little rats don’t appreciate any of my work.”

“Darling,” soothes Sylas, “you killed the pup’s family.”

She frowns at him, indignant. “Not the other one’s - not dear Matilda’s. She I have saved from slaving in the fields, wasting resources, wasting potential, wasting. Besides - it’s a favor, being rid of the heirs. Cassandra would have been wed to some middling lord, some cousin, and bred like a show mare. She will do better with me. With us.”

“They will,” he agrees. Perhaps it does not make much sense to him, how the girls might appreciate them. But he has been wrong about many things before - the Assembly, the Empire, death. Delilah has always been right.

Almost.

Later, after. Sylas makes himself into mist to drift from her grasp. He cannot bear to part with her while made of flesh. The form reduces his hunger, too, from a spitting suffocation to a dry heave to every movement. Less wet.

She does not suffice. If she were to, he would kill her, and he can’t.

And so he finds himself a nice young man, counts his ribs beneath his thumb, and fancies him that half-elf he got but a taste of before sinking his teeth into that dusky throat and tearing a cup of flesh from which to drink deep.

All the blood tastes the same as hers, and for that sin it is disgusting.

(He sees the cupbearer the next day. Head lolling, held by few tendons, rot already taking to him greedily. Walking.)

#tlovm #critical role #tlovm fanfic #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfic #delilah briarwood #sylas briarwood #the briarwoods #cass and matilda (laudna) are both mentioned - in this AU Delilah takes on Laudna as an apprentice #its Fucked Up and will mostly be from the girls' POV but MAN. MAN. fucking love the briarwoods #my writing #ask game

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iamvegorott · 9 months

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Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 30

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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Marvin could hear the voices getting closer, and he rushed back for the bedroom, hoping his quick movements didn’t alert them. If getting upset by loud noises caught Mad on fire, he did not want to know what a pissed-off or scared Mad could do.

“I hate whenever he brings up that I’m your job.” Mad’s voice was now close enough to pick up on the words.

“I mean, it’s why I got originally hired.” Mare’s voice followed.

“So, if you weren’t getting paid, you’d leave?”

“I never said that.” Marvin paused in the middle of the bedroom. The way Mare said that sounded like he was offended, hurt even. “We’re friends. I wouldn’t just go away like that.”

“Good. I’d hate to set you on fire.”

“Too soon.” Their laughs were too close for Marvin to stay any longer, and he practically swung out of the window, clinging to the bits that stuck out of the house’s walls.

“I feel like I should decide if it’s too soon since I was the one on fire.” Mad’s voice told Marvin they were now in the room. He knew Mad likely wouldn’t be able to track him if he used magic to get back to the ground, but he didn’t know Mare’s abilities.

Marvin had many complaints about Dark’s mentoring. A list that would be never-ending as he could always find something new to complain about, but he was currently thanking Dark for enforcing physical strength as much as magical strength. If Dark hadn’t engraved that into his being, there was no way Marvin could grip as strong as he was. To have the same hold despite his hands sweating with fear of getting caught.

Although, that grip could only go for so long.

Marvin managed to get down to the last few feet before his hands slipped, and he fell to the ground, landing on his back. The air got knocked out of his lungs, and he had to fight to prevent himself from gasping too loudly, throat burning with a need to cough and gulp down air. But slowly, painfully slowly, he managed to breathe. Marvin rolled to his knees, taking another second to breathe more and finally getting up and jogging away from the house.

He saw Chase and Henrik at the car, Robbie sitting inside it while the two men were pacing anxiously. They had parked further away, but it was still in sight, and soon Chase and Henrik noticed him coming over.

“Marv!” Chase rushed over and caught Marvin in a hug a few feet away from the car. “Jesus Christ, man. You scared the shit out of me. Why were you in there for so long?” He rambled off as he held Marvin tightly.

“I was listening in,” Marvin explained, awkwardly standing for a few moments before hugging Chase back.

“Come here, come here.” Henrik beckoned the two back to the car, opening a first-aid kit on the car’s hood.

“I’m okay, Hen,” Marvin said as he and Chase let each other go and walked over to the car.

“You are not harmed? No cuts or anything?” Henrik asked.

“A little bruised, but I’m fine.”

“That is good to hear.” Henrik nodded before suddenly slapping the back of Marvin’s head.

“Ow! What was that-” Marvin got slapped again.

“What in the world were you thinking!? Getting Robbie involved in this!?” Henrik snapped.

“We didn’t-” Chase was cut off by Henrik slapping the back of his head.

“Why would you agree to let my child be in close proximity to dangerous people!?” Henrik gave Chase another slap.

“Aren’t doctors supposed to have a like cause no harm oath or something?” Chase asked.

“I’m off duty!” Henrik slapped both Chase and Marvin’s heads at the same time. “What if that man refused to let Robbie go? What if he had hurt him before we got into that house? I already have problems with the antics you two get involved in. I do not want my friends harmed, but I have more of a problem with you getting my son in the line of fire.”

“You’re right,” Marvin said before Henrik slapped him again.

“Wait, what?”

“You’re right, Hen.” Mavin rubbed the back of his head. “It was stupid of me to ask Robbie to help. I had that idea, and I should have thrown it aside because it was so fucking stupid, but I refused to think and put Robbie at risk. Chase only agreed to this because I told him it was a good idea. I should have known better, but I was my usual stubborn-ass self.” He lowered his hand and sighed. “You can slap me again now.”

“I have done enough.” Henrik shook his head.

“We’re sorry. This should have never happened. Robbie’s scared as shit, and it’s our fault.” Chase said.

“Dad?” Robbie was out of the car, half-hiding behind the open door.

“We will head home soon, Robbie,” Henrik said.

“I…I wasn’t scared of them.” Robbie closed the door and walked over to them, hugging one arm to his side.

“What do you mean? Are you in shock? I can-”

“No, Dad. I’m not in shock. I wasn’t scared of them hurting me. I was scared of hurting them.” Robbie swallowed thickly. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about something but never knew how to bring it up.”

“Should we…go?” Chase gestured with his thumb.

“No. I think you guys should know too.” Robbie closed his eyes, taking a very deep breath before opening them, showing they were now nearly pitch-black. He lifted his hand, and his fingertips had sharpened into pointed claws.

“What in the world?” Henrik gently held Robbie’s wrist to look at his hand closer.

“I don’t know. It happened when Uncle Marv showed up at the house and got drunk. I didn’t know it was him, and this stuff started happening, and I was ready to attack whoever broke into the house. I-I don’t know what it means.” Robbie’s voice cracked. The fear in his eyes was there even through the darkness, and tears started to swell up.

“Oh, Robbie, it is okay.” Henrik released Robbie’s hand and stepped closer to hug him. Robbie immediately hugged him back and hid his face in Henrik’s chest, his hand returning to its usual form.

“I just wanna be normal.” Robbie’s voice was muffled.

“I know, schatzi. I know.” Henrik rubbed Robbie’s back. Chase leaned over and whispered to Marvin;

“What does schatzi mean?”

“Little treasure,” Marvin answered. He didn’t know a lot of German, mostly some phrases he’s learned from Henrik. Although the phrases he’d learned from Henrik weren’t always voluntary and Marvin would do some research to satisfy his curiosity.

“That’s adorable.”

“It is.”

“How about we go home now? We can put on one of those movies you really like or one of those-um- animates?” Henrik offered, softly smiling when Robbie chuckled.

“Animes, Dad. They’re called animes.” Robbie lifted his head, sniffing but now smiling as well.

“Oh, yes, yes. We can watch one of those. Maybe that one with the kids that become weapons?” Henrik guided Robbie to head back to the side of the car.

“Soul Eater?” Robbie was now laughing, getting into the car with Henrik.

“Henrik’s right. He’s a good kid,” Chase said, knowing Henrik and Robbie couldn’t hear them and that Henrik was more than aware of what anime was and had pretended for Robbie’s sake. “And Hen’s a good dad.” He added the last part with a sad sigh.

“Drive them home and hang out with them,” Marvin said.

“Are you not coming?”

“I need to talk to Dark.”

“I can-”

“No.” Marvin stopped Chase. “I need to talk to Dark privately, and I don’t trust you with any of them alone.” Chase opened his mouth to say something but didn’t get to. “I will fill you in on everything, I promise. I just need to talk to him on my own.”

“I need to tell you-” Chase, again, didn’t get to finish before Marvin was gone. “Ah, shit.”

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Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

#meeting a magical man #trickshot #veggie writes

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sabraeal · 9 months

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to all the ghost still standing in this room, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

Written for @kirayaykimura for her birthday! Starting this got pushed back SO MANY TIMES due to bingo, and so when I finally got to it and asked if she had a last minute change in request...she finally admitted she wanted more liliwon 🤣 It’s been a nice little break from the months of frantic obiyuki writing!

A king must act decisively. Kyesook had told him that, back when they were simply Yuhon’s heir and the boy his supporters had trusted to mold him. Barely six years his senior, he’d given his lessons with all the airs of a priest reciting a sacred truths. But a king must also be cautious. And above all else-- even now his expectations weigh heavy on him --he must be in control.

Control, ha. Soowon marvels at the trembling wrist in his grip; at the thick, mottled skin now streaked by the pale band of his fingers, silvered like long-healed scars instead of shackles. A pulse throbs against his fingertips, slippery with rage and thwarted wrath, but there’s no fear in his eyes, no sense of how close he’s come to death.

Not yet, at least.

“As much as the lady might annoy...” His grip tightens, just a hair, but his tone never strays from pointed civility. “Striking a woman is unnecessary.”

“Annoy?” Ah, of course. A man’s fist might quiver inches from the delicate bridge of An Lili’s nose, but that’s the stone that change’s the river’s course. “This man shakes a poor woman down in the middle of the streets, but I’m annoying for trying to--”

“Shake her down?” The man’s eyes bulge in their sockets, no longer a blade but a bullfrog belching its complaints to a ripple that’s splashed too close. “This girl is getting in the way of my business--”

“Your illegal business.” Lili surges toward him, heedless of the danger she so narrowly avoided. “I don’t think Kouren is going around, letting men like you issue permits--”

If she keeps this up, she might well win this argument by default, if only because the man’s died of apoplexy. “What do you know if it, you little--”

“I think you will find--” it’s in his softest, most dulcet tones that Soowon speaks, smile stretching his lips like a rack does a skin “--that denying this young woman’s wishes might cause more problems for you than it solves.”

He might be slender where this man is meaty, calm where he seethes, but when Soowon looms head and shoulders over him, bones groaning in his grasp, the man finally recognizes him the same way a rabbit recognizes a fox in the brush: as the superior being that cradles both his life and his death in its grip.

One that squeezes a little tighter as he says, “I speak, of course, from experience.”

Those bulging eyes no longer fix to Lili, no; they swing back to him, trembling like the rest of his squat body. Soowon, for his part, tries to find no pleasure in it. He fails of course. Ah, what his old minder might make of this mess? Nothing that would earn that man’s sparing praise, that’s for certain.

“F-fine then.” That man’s lips may flap but all that falls from them is this false bravado, useless save as a salve to his own pride. “Guess she can have her way, if it’s so important to her.”

“How kind.” Soowon’s grip springs open, sudden as a trap. The man stumbles, catching himself on his back foot. “Your graciousness will not be forgotten.”

There’s a threat in those soft words, hidden beneath the cushion of civility. A cleverer scoundrel would take it, a lesson learned about what a fair man might hide behind his sweet smile, but this one-- this one cradles his wrist against his chest and spits, “But if she gets in my way again...”

It is the work of a single step to slide between them, to break the furious path of his glare.

“That won’t be a problem. Or at least--” his voice drops to his chest, eyes falling open from their squint “--you better hope it is not.”

He’s impossible, that’s the problem here. When Lili left camp-- hours ago now, coaxing the most biddable mare in their entourage with the dried fruits she smuggled into her skirts during breakfast-- Soowon had still been in his tent. Sleeping, she assumed, or sulking if he couldn’t bring himself to have regular, basic needs like all the rest of those lesser mortals. He was still supposed to be doing that now, only inside that terrible darkened cage that passed for a palanquin.

And instead he’s-- he’s here. Haunting her heroic moment. Just swooping in and handling things when she definitely didn’t ask him to. Sure, he’s got that scumbag already scurrying into the gutters where he belongs, but he’s stooped over the woman too, wearing that stupid smile of his, the kind he squints into so no one notices it doesn’t reach his eyes.

A slender hand slips out from beneath the gleaming white of his robe, and oh, he’s stealing her rescue, too! Here she is, the one who bothered to step in to begin with, but that poor woman is all eyes for that beanpole, flushed and stammering as he guides her to her feet. Which is something Lili would have been happy to do, as soon as her own legs quit trembling. Just a few minutes and she would have been the one to gallantly offer her hand, the one to dust off the woman’s dirty knees. But instead--

Instead it’s Soowon fussing over her, offering with his stupid voice-- not even his real one, but the one he uses to come off as gentle and inoffensive, for all the good it does him-- to take her home. And it’s to him she clings even as her she insists he’s done enough.

Shameless, that’s what he is. Doesn’t even bother to look sorry when he finally glances her way either. Oh no, for her, he’s smug. Bastard.

Well, he’s not going to have the satisfaction of floating over here and pulling that angel act on her, oh no. Lili storms over to him first, legs stronger with every stomp, and demands, “What on earth are you doing here?”

Oh, he smiles and simpers for all the smallfolk, playing benevolent savior, but for her-- for her there’s no squint, no pretense that he’s doing anything but looking down on her when he says, “Saving you, it seems.”

“You?” It’s stupid that he’s so tall; if he’s going to be so obnoxious, she should at least be able to put her hands around his throat without having to jump. “Saving me?”

It’s ridiculous. Absurd, even. And worse yet, terrible, because if she’s being generous-- which she shouldn’t be; he doesn’t deserve it-- it might even be true.

That insufferable smile widens when he reaches out for her, and she means to duck, to sidestep, to do something if only to keep him from acting whatever way he likes, but--

But she’s frozen instead, breath caught up in her lungs as his fingers graze past her ears, disrupting the flyaway hairs that always gather just there no matter what Tetora does. A shiver traces down her spine, trembling her already weak knees, and it’s-- it’s nothing. Only that he never gets this close to anyone, not on purpose, so it feels...different. Weird.

That is, until her hood tumbles over her eyes, leaving her with only slash of his smirk in her vision. “Yes. Like always.”

She wrestles with the fabric until it sits properly back from her face, sputtering and spitting but never quite forming words. Always. The gall of him. “Where’s your babysitter?”

His eyebrows lift, two elegant questions over the still seas of his eyes. “Where is yours?”

Lili scowls; it’s not until her palms prickle that she even realizes she’s clenched her fists. “I don’t need one! I can take care of myself just fine.”

He doesn’t even bother to open his mouth, just pointedly glances at where she’d stood, too stupid to see a punch coming, and-- and--

“I can!” A hit like that would hardly kill her. “But now that you’re here, Joodoh is going to be tearing across the whole countryside to find--”

Funny, she wouldn’t have though his spindly hands it could fit so perfectly over her mouth. Or that his grip could bite so harshly into her wrist.

She glares up at him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, muffled or not, and finds a smile that is all teeth.

“Why don’t we move this discussion to a more amenable location?” he asks, and oh, it’s phrased like a suggestion, but every twitch of his eyes says, you’re making a scene.

Ha. If he thinks this is a scene, she’d be happy to show him what it looks like when she does a whole production--

Until she follows the quick flick of his eyes, gaze quickly drawn to the gleam of pauldrons, to the tooled leather insignia branded across the chest of more than a few men now lingering at the edge of the market, watching them.

With a quick catch of her breath, his hand peels away. “Come.” He tugs at her wrist. “This way.”

“All right.” Lili slips like water from his fingers, one moment solid under his grip, and the next idling behind him in the alley, arms-crossed. “What are you doing here, really?”

Ah well, it’s fine enough; he hadn’t thought she would allow him to lead her this far from the market, let alone to somewhere properly secluded. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“Ugh, yeah you could,” she huffs, hands flailing wildly beside her already listing hood. “Or you could just answer the question like a normal person!”

He blinks at her, stymied. That’s hardly a standard he’s ever been expected to aspire to. Exceptional, certainly; superior might as well go without saying; but normal...?

“Fine!” Her head flings back with a groan, and ah, that explains how it keeps falling. “I’m here because Lady Lili only gets to see flower gardens and tapestries and maybe a decorative pond or two. And that’s fine or whatever, but Yona isn’t going to care about whether or not the castle’s lilies are growing well this year. For that matter, neither do I!”

His mouth opens, only to find that there’s nothing to say. “Ah...hm.”

“And also you’re horrible to travel with,” she continues, quite unnecessarily. “That’s a big part of it.”

“Well.” There’s a half dozen idiosyncrasies he could lay at her door as well, a litany of habits that could make even the most pious of the priesthood rethink temperance, but what comes out is a stilted, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So...there.” Her fluttering hands finally perch on her hips, ready to take flight with a single shift in the wind of her moods. “Your turn now.”

It would be simple to answer; he had prepared a response to that very question before he even left camp. Not the truth-- no one liked that, no matter what they said-- but the sort of regal humility expected of a cousin to the crown. I wanted to see the people of this land with my own two eyes, he would say, gaze fixed to the middle distance, properly melancholic. The care my cousin shows our people has taught me to seek its like wherever I go.

But as pretty as the words are, as melodic a cadence as he had composed to cradle them, it feels...inadequate. Lili may not speak to him with eloquence, but she is earnest, the way he had once been with...

Ah. An uncomfortable thought.

“The last time I was here, I came with an army at my back.” An invader, hoping to subdue a weakened rival with an application of suitable force. “I have to admit I was...curious. About what may remain after...everything.”

About what they might say about King Soowon, the man who failed where Princess Yona flew. Ah, Empress Yona, now.

The answer had been surprisingly little. He’s not sure what would have been worse: for his name being synonymous as their oppressor, or the fact that his gambit left so little mark that few remember it.

“It’s so different now, isn’t it?” The tightness around Lili’s eyes eases, the whole of her face softening as she skims the streets. “There’s scars where Kai and the nadai carved them, but...”

“I expected more,” he agrees. “A testament to Kouren’s leadership.”

“Oh?” One of her narrow brows quirk, too interested. “Is that so? Do you find that an attractive trait in an ally, or--?”

“Don’t start,” he grumbles, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “It’s insulting enough that Yona has tried to dress this up as a...a diplomatic mission, I don’t need this from you too.”

“But it is a diplomatic mission.” For once he wishes An Lili was a better liar; then he wouldn’t have to suffer her subterfuge. “Kouka has to send someone to the coronation, and who better than Yona’s own cousin, a--”

“An usurper and kin-killer.” His teeth ache as he strains his well-earned titles through them. “And though my lovely cousin would never admit it, I am a superfluous and inconvenient member of the royal family. She might well have spared me her mercy and killed me instead, the reception might have been kinder.”

For all that it’s true, Lili scowls at him, as if he’s a disappointment. “Yona has spent the past two years trying to involve you in every aspect of Kouka’s governance. She made you the Sky Advisor! You can’t really think sending you here to--”

“Woo a queen who has every reason to hate me?” For all her hot air, Lili deflates. Ah, so they had not thought he would figure out this portion of their plan until it was already well underway. “Yona would never be so rude as to suggest it outright, but I’m sure it would put her most at ease if I found Xing so diverting I never return to Kouka.”

Lili unleashes a groan so weary it practically creaks. “She would like you to be happy, instead of just...haunting your end of the castle and finding new ways to make yourself miserable.”

“Haunting.”

Her sharp little finger stings where it prods his chest. “You’ve spooked several servants, mister. Surprising we can still get people to go clean down that way when they’re all spun up about restless spirits wandering the halls.”

Soowon smooths the dimple she leaves in the fabric. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You said it, Yona’s too nice to tell you the stuff you need to hear.” Her mouth gives an insufferable little twist. “Like that you need to go out and get some fresh air.”

“And you’re...not.” It’s not a question. He has met her, after all. It’s one of the most tolerable things about her.

One of her slim shoulders lift, unconcerned. “Someone has to.”

“How...” He lets a few possibilities roll around on his tongue, savoring each one. “Considerate.”

“Listen, if you’re so concerned about why Yona chose you for this party--” her tone implies heavily that he shouldn’t be “--you’re a royal, like you said. It’s an honor for people to host you. Fussing over you makes them feel important. And the fact that Yona’s letting them do it makes her seem magnanimous.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. And the fact that I am the highest ranking unattached member of the imperial court...”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Yeah, if by some cosmic coincidence you somehow fell wildly in love with one of Yona’s staunchest allies and the strongest queen of her vassal countries, I’m sure she wouldn’t be mad about it.”

The only queen of her vassal countries. His breath whistles out through his nose. At least it’s a more flattering option than Mei-nyan. “How optimistic of her, considering how the last time I was in Xing, its first princess was calling for my head.”

“That’s Yona for you. Now...” Lili cranes her neck, peering around his side to-- ah, to his pockets. “Are those rice cakes?”

Ha. He had quite forgotten those were there. “Is there a reason you are asking?”

A grin splits her face as she threads her arm through his, all teeth. “Because if you’re going to show me around this place, you’re gonna have to share them.”

#liliwon #wonlili #akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #my fic #future fic #to all the ghosts #any #after i struggled so mightily with the first chapter this was written in like two days #most of it spent of futzing with soowon's pov #because the background music when i write him is so fiddly #lili is like. here is my pop mix on spotify let's go

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