#two games that i already had but tunic i had it when i was paying the xbox pc subscription thing and no longer have kt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pangtasias-atelier · 9 months

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Hey hey! I saw your request are open! So well I have this idea! Like Switch bodies

Eli/wood wants to training to have the same body type of Hec/tor, and he helps him, unfornately Hec/tor starts to gain weight since Eliwood gives him food as a gift for the help on His training and Eli/wood starts to became muscular

Omg the like only fe7 request I got ajdbjjnbsj. I just replayed the game and like I already want to replay it again lol so went a little crazy writing this. I wanted them to not be like that big but whoops my brain betrayed my.

Hopefully you enjoy it cause had a lot of fun writing it!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

"So uhh, why do I have to apologize again?" Hector grins at his husband. The cheerful smile is tinged with embarrassment. Unsure as to what he did would cause his husband to be upset, Hector still listens to Eliwood. He hugs Eliwood from behind. Hector rests some of his weight on Eliwood as he nearly drapes himself over his shorter, more petite husband. Hector presses his face that begins to grow a beard with Hector finally letting it grow out against Eliwood, his neck finding a comfortable perch on Eliwood’s shoulder.

"I don't appreciate being fawned over and reminded of my own weight, no matter how temporary it is," Eliwood’s arms are trapped from Hector’s embrace. Despite all his grumbling and minor complaints, Eliwood’s face mirrors his husband’s rosy, happy expression.

The Continent of Elibe’s peace seems secure after the duo’s personal adventure. And with the two’s sudden, albeit expected to everyone around them, marriage, the more rational, calm Eliwood has especially enjoyed the peace over the years. Taking care of two young children has also eased Eliwood into indulging himself with extra snacks and sweets to help lighten the workload between it all. His appearance changed much like his husband, the married pair’s face more wizened and angular, Eliwood now has his hair parted to the side. Elwood only has the slightest amount of scruff on his chin, still unwilling to grow a beard. But his figure pays the price for his indulgent relaxing years that come about with Hector by his side now. Gone is the slim waist built up by years of sword fighting that came with a faint yet visible set of abs. Eliwood now sports a small tummy. The minor yet not insignificant amount of pudge is still able to be easily hidden behind tunics and vests. But behind closed doors—or during Hector’s more brazen moments—Hector makes it a point to appreciate the minor bit of heft that Eliwood sports. Especially when Hector is almost unchanged despite the time of peace. The already muscular man seems even larger by a decent amount, his chest even border and more defined by the way it presses against shirts alongside larger, more rounded biceps.

“Oh come on!” Hector laughs uproariously. His embrace only tightens as he sees Eliwood’s adorable pout, expression so rare to see on him. “But if you’re serious, then come work out with me. Our territory will be more than fine if we take some extra alone time together,”

Eliwood mulls over the offer. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the side of Hector’s, his much more fit husband trying his best to not get hair in his mouth. “Fine then. Some minor exercise won’t hurt me. I will have to repay you,” Eliwood eventually responds after hearing Hector about to mutter up some complaint about his slightly longer hair.

“Hah! You have nothing to repay me for. This will be great for me too,”

“I distinctly recall you always preferring my food compared to whatever you had-”

“Oh come on already,” Hector grabs Eliwood by the hand.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

Hector’s pace stays the same. “To train, of course. No better time to start than right now. And I’m not going easy on you. Otherwise, Marcus and Oswin will kill us if they saw us slacking,”

Picking up his own pace, Eliwood walks by his husband’s side. “Fine then. I’ll take this as seriously as you do then,”

And Eliwood does. The workout routine Hector submits him to is far from comparable to the grueling, constant training with Marcus back when he was younger but Hector is nothing but a strict teacher. For every set of pushups, deadlifts, or any sort of rigorous exercises, Hector always demands another from Eliwood. And regardless of what event they have planned for the day, child rearing and managing the massive territory that is Ostia-Pherae making time a luxury, Hector always makes it a point to fit some exercise into their day—such as training after setting up camp when on the road, Hector always making some spectacle wherever he goes without even meaning to like always. Despite any sort of complaints or even curses Eliwood has during Hector’s more strict lessons, he shoves them down and complies. Especially when he sees his fruitful results after some time.

He keeps his remarks to himself. Always humble, the now larger, stronger Marquess first receives a comment on his new appearance when in Sacae.

“I might have to start worrying about seeing two Hector’s next time you visit,” Lyn seated next to Eliwood, she wastes precious few moments of her free time. She sits on the ground as she works on her new project of crafting her very own bow after being taught by Rath, his self learned techniques aided by the further instruction of Kutolah’s elders.

Unable to help himself, his mind wandering back to when the two had first met so many years ago, Eliwood gives her a small shove on the shoulder as soon as she places her knife down to take a swig of water. “I’m happy that you think I’ll look even better in the future,”

“You’ve filled out. You look like you’d be better off swinging an axe instead of a sword,”

Eliwood chuckles at the praise. Not quite used to such words from anyone besides Hector, he holds back his instinct to slightly hunch. Looking down at himself, Lyn’s complement clearly holds true. Getting a first look at his chest, Eliwood’s defined chest juts out far more than it ever did. Not quite on the level as the ragtag group’s larger men such as Dart or Geitz, much less the behemoth that is Hawkeye, Eliwood’s respectable, sizable pecs manage to push against the fabric of his tunic. The two broad pecs are outlined by the slightly taut fabric.His abdomen has plenty of breathing room from the draped fabric. Though the slightest bit of his chiseled abs peak underneath when he lifts his arms high up enough. Eliwood’s biceps are similarly muscular. His arms had already been toned from when he took up training with lances, but the larger arms show off the time and effort Eliwood has put into working out. His thighs paint an even brighter picture, the combined experience from horse riding and Eliwood’s own focus into his thighs, the two powerful legs even strain the fabric of his pants. His thighs are much more built compared to before. His thighs are now wider than when he was at his pudgiest. Even Eliwood’s calves have extra definition to them, both of them pushing out further than before. And his shapely, firm bubble butt that Hector gives plenty of attention to like the rest of his more fit, muscular figure.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Eliwood responds with a smile. His hands rest freely at his side.

Lyn’s back and joints crack as she stands up and stretches, sitting on the floor clearly tiring after being in such a position for long enough to finish with the rough shape of her bow. “With how you stood up in your seat, you already did,” She glances around the open area. Spotting a small trio with bundles of hair like her and her friends, she smiles at the sight, a myriad of the older tribe members fawning over Lilina and Roy the same as they do Sue.

Eliwood stands up right behind Lyn. He refuses to indulge her teasing, instead smiling and waving to the children who make no motion to join their parents. “Should we go look for our husbands then? Hector isn’t one to pass on dinner,” Eliwood deflects Lyn’s comments.

“I’ve noticed,” Lyn laughs but still readies her sword to check on the men still hunting.

Eliwood follows behind her. “I can say the same about Rath,”

Eliwood’s comment immediately shuts her up, Lyn only able to let out a small snort at the mention. Any rebuttal she might have has to wait for later as Hector and Rath finally return with a heavy haul from their hunt.

The two’s remarks over the other’s husbands rings true as the two chubby men come back.

Rath the smaller of the two, his lithe form is framed by a soft, pudgy layer of flab that encompasses his entire body. A sharp distinct jawline like most Sacaen men is replaced by a more rounded face from his softened cherubic cheeks and the beginning onset of a double chin. His trim waist is no more. The firm abdomen is covered in a small yet generous helping of lard. Rath’s stomach now presses up against his attire. The small amount of belly flab on him is now completely undeniable with his tight clothes. Rath’s flabby biceps are hidden underneath his loose sleeves, but the softened, widened forearms show off his extra weight along with his thicker thighs and slightly rounded out rear.

Eliwood’s appreciation of a more…rounded out form compared to Lyn, is much more apparent on Hector’s doughy body. Hector still sports most of the muscle mass he always had. Though, the heft of his figure is more pronounced by all the flab that swaddles his bulk. Hector’s defined chest has a more rounded, soft appearance to it from all of Eliwood’s food. His chest is even larger now from the coupled fat and muscle on his tits. His new shirt still struggles to deal with his breasts, the plunging neckline nestled in between his hairy tits. His shirt also has to unfortunately contend with Hector's gut. His broad, defined waist with a chiseled six pack and jutting v-line is no more. All of his muscles are completely washed away by a pile of lard. The large blubbery mass of fat that almost resembles a barrel hidden underneath his clothes barely manages to be contained. Hector’s arms are still incredibly thick. The two massive arms still show off every bit of strength left in them despite being swaddled in flab, the two thick biceps looking even stronger now. Hector’s fat biceps ever so slightly press against his soft barrel chest. His meaty thighs are larger than a person’s waist, each flabby thigh now rubbing against each other with each heavy step Hector takes. His thighs even visibly jiggle from his steps, though the motion is reserved for Eliwood, Hector’s thick trousers able to properly cover up the girth of his lower half. Even Hector’s softened ass that only holds a fraction of its form from the extra weight that lovingly accumulates on his backside manages to stay securely clothed by his pants. Though the waistband digs into his waistline; Hector's stomach bulges even more than usual and comes dangerously close to being exposed. Accompanying all of Hector’s added weight is his even more filled out beard; the hair framing his flabby jawline makes his face look even rounder.

Coming from a successful hunt, Hector is the more tired one of the two. Despite the amount of muscles that remain, the musculature is clearly leftover from all his time from working out long ago, the bulky man’s stamina much less than it used to be with how he supervises Eliwood’s workout instead of joining him.

Thankfully, neither men have to carry their haul for much longer, others taking them to clean and prepare.

“Well, I’m glad to see the food smells as good as you described it,” Hector gives Rath a heart pat on the back.

And the stocky man keeps his steady footing. “The tribe prepared a special feast for you two.”The reason being for the two taking care of Lyn is something Rath keeps to himself.

“Thank you. We’ll make-”

“This isn’t Lycia! Stop being so formal,” Lyn pulls at her married friends, the two men willingly obliging her and trying everything she suggests throughout the night.

But eventually, the two’s short time in Sacae eventually comes to a close with their territory needing to be led. And despite the two’s busy schedule and Hector no longer joining in on their training sessions, Eliwood still makes it a point to stick to his routine. Both of them. Working out an enjoyable pastime now to see how much he can push himself, Hector’s enjoyment in indulging himself and slacking off proves to be just as enjoyable for Eliwood as the months turn into years, both men growing even larger.

The two men are currently in the privacy of their bedroom. Hector lying down on the bed, the far fatter man only wears his boxers that appear to be nothing more than a thin strip of fabric with how much it stretches to cover all his plush lard. Hector is an absolute behemoth of a man now. The obese, far past a quarter ton marquess no longer resembles his younger, much more athletic self in any shape. Not that Hector has much shape to him now with all his muscles reduced into swathes of flab from refusing to do the bare minimum of movement. Hector’s enormous tree sized thighs press and rub up against each other; despite how much he attempts to spread them while laying down, even the highest rivulets of flab that line his inner thighs caress its fellow soft rolls of adipose. Hector’s shapeless ass spreads out underneath him. It manages to give the obese marquees a slight boost despite how much he sinks into the mattress that rivals the feathers of Illia’s pegasi in softness. Hector’s large ass rivals people’s waistlines and stomachs from the sheer size of his rear. Resting atop Hector’s splayed out thighs is his massive gut. The large mound of flab spreads out as much as it can like the rest of his prodigious figure. Normally, his gut sags down to just the very middle of his knees which are encased in an extra layer of pudge from his thighs, but right now his gut spreads like a blanket of plush lard to both sides of Hector to completely covers his wide, doughy thighs. Hector’s watermelon sized breasts normally use his gut as a support system to not sag and ache his puffed, stretched out skin. Except they currently try their best to smother Hector as they sag towards his face with only having one pillow to support himself. The ring of fat that is his neck helps as a barrier for the avalanche of breast fat—Eliwood helping him as well by pushing the breasts to the side to rest on top of flour sized arms with copious amounts of soft, wobbling flab that drapes from them. Connected to his enormous biceps are elbows that lack the prior flexibility he once had, the overarching bit of lard from his biceps slightly swallowing his elbows, and his forearms that come close to rivaling the size of people’s thighs. And situated at the very apex of such a fine display of indulgence is Hector’s porcine face; his rounded face takes deep, hefty breaths as he digests the meal just fed to him by his loving husband.

Said husband sits on top of Hector. Eliwood straddles the mound of plush lard that makes up Hector’s gut with two thick, defined thighs. Where Hector blew up into a large obese caricature of his former self, Eliwood is the complete opposite of representing his dedication to growing stronger that would make any axe wielder or armor knight jealous. Eliwood angular hourglass figure shows off his cut, built musculature. His thighs are nearly as wide as his waist; each tremendously powerful leg shown off in all its splendor with Eliwood similarly only wearing ill-fitting boxers, his chair crushing thighs sink into Hector’s flab. His legs bulge out from the top with so much muscle stacked into each limb. Even his calves rival the size of people’s biceps. His knees have extra attention brought to them from the chiseled, bulging muscles of his quads. Resting behind Eliwood is his large rear; the shapely, firm rear that makes up his broad ass stretches his boxers, each globe for a bubble butt perky with a near perfect shape to them as they jut out behind him. Eliwood also top heavy, his two large pecs sit heavily on his chest. The two slabs of jutting meat curve outwards from the amount of heft to them. His enormous pectorals that surpass his head in sheer volume dig into his bulging biceps. Each rippling muscle in his arm teeming with power, the large, broad arms lack their prior flexibility from so much muscle caked onto his frame. Eliwood’s shoulders are much broader to accommodate his extra girth, but his bulging traps still limit his mobility along with his oversized delts. Underneath Eliwood’s heavy breasts are his prominent abdomen. The sculpted set of abs have a shadow cast over them by his pecs, yet they still command attention from the bulging, rippling eight pack Eliwood now sports. Despite the loss of movement from working out so much, Elwiood doesn’t mind too much. And neither does Hector, the married couple’s sentiment the exact same when it comes to Hector’s own situation with his bulging waistline that continues to grow as the days go by.

“Hahh, is that all? There better be moreEEEE-EEEUUUURP!!” Hector belches. His boisterous attitude slowly washes away to be replaced by a renewed hunger that slowly trickles and bubbles inside his gut. He still has to take a bit slow, his breathing increasingly more strained, both from the food sitting heavily in his gut and his heavy husband who sits on it.

Eliwood rubs Hector’s flabby gut. His fingers dig and sink into the pile of blubber as he rubs slow circles to ease the aching beast. “Of course there is dear, both Rebecca and Lowen made more than enough to keep even you hungry,”

“Good,,,” Hector gazes up at Eliwood with lidded eyes. His jowls jiggle as he continues to take deep breaths on his back like a beached whale. He does his best to lean into Eliwood’s embrace as his husband slowly reaches down to kiss him, Eliwood’s broad expansive pecs sinking against the upper crest of Hector’s stomach fat along with his ponderous breasts.

“After all, everyone must already know how starved you are all the time. I fear they might think I’m starving you,” Eliwood shifts his attention over to Hector's breasts. His fingers pinch at the rosy pink tips of Hector’s saucer sized areolas. He fondles his tits, leaning closer to line them with quick pecks.

Despite the bright red blush on his face that accompanies the beads of sweat and bitten lips, Hector still finds a retort. “You sure do make me go hungry sometimes, you know?”

“Like now?” Eliwood reaches for Hector’s hands. His own hands intertwining with Hector's slightly sunken hands, he slowly lifts the meaty, flabby arms up.

“Of course,” Hector’s face is squished by his arm fat. Used to the rest of his corpulence being surrounded by his lard, the sensation of his head being nearly encapsulated by a sea of his own lard, no matter how temporary—for now Hector thinks, still brings a shiver to his spine. Especially when he knows Eliwood only does it to tease him, to remind him of what’s to come when he grows even fatter, the larger size only a question of when and not if between the two’s clear enjoyment.

Eliwood lets go of Hector’s arms. Reaching to the side, he grabs at the nearest serving platter placed alongside many others.

“A big guy like me shouldn’t be kept waiting,” Hector grins up at Eliwood. The two locking eyes with one another, they can’t help but devolve into a mess of nonsensical laughter, neither able to imagine such a scenario between them back when they were nothing more than children so many years ago. And yet, both men enjoy their changes, neither find the situation absurd or strange.

“Of course, love. How awful a husband I must be to let you go famished for so long,” Eliwood brings the platter of fried shrimp to Hector’s mouth. “I love you, Hector,” He softly says despite his own feeding being far from gentle.

Hector’s response comes out muffled. “Luhv yuuu,” He moans out in between shoved forkfuls of the buttery, greasy food as the two men continue to enjoy another night of many with each other.

#my writing #fat emblem #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain #buff emblem #muscle emblem #muscle story #muscle fiction #muscle expansion

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ficbrish · 5 months

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Astarion/Tav

10 years post-canon

A bit of romantic tentacle porn for the people:

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

She shook her head, “Just like any other shapeshifting spell.”

“Nothing we haven’t done before.”

He winked and she blushed.

Vistri wasn’t aware she was feeling a little shy until she spoke, “Why don’t we start with the elixir?”

“Take me to the stars,” he consented.

The little bottle was enough for them to share. Vistri had two little glasses already lined up, but when she went to pour them, he pulled her closer, flush against his chest.

Astarion’s kiss knocked all thoughts from her head, leaving only sense. Her nerves transformed and ignited into a blaze, his tongue guiding her to the ache of the ravenous. Vistri couldn’t breathe, only gasp. Astarion punctuated it with his teeth, biting and tugging her lip. She groaned deeply in response.

Vistri couldn’t stand on her own when he wrested lips from hers. She held onto Astarion to steady herself, grasping the front of his tunic.

He took the little bottle out of her hand, “Be a dear and open your mouth wide for me.”

She did as commanded, tilting her head back a bit as he pulled out the topper. Slowly, he poured some of it onto her tongue.

“Don’t swallow.”

Vistri held it in her mouth.

“Good girl. Now give it to me.”

Astarion relieved Vistri of her burden, drinking the elixir from her lips. Then he tossed back the rest of the bottle and fed it to her in return.

The effect wasn’t immediate, but trickled in. Gale’s tower slipped away and became the Astral Plane. Furniture grew into rocks; and walls, cliffs. The ceiling was no longer a ceiling, but an impossible sea of comets and stars.

Astarion chuckled with delight, “You know. This is exactly how I remember it.”

They relished in the illusion together for a while. Vistri proudly pointed out all her contributions, and vented about everything she thought the elixir’s effect lacked.

“I really wanted to capture the smell of it, but we just… I thought maybe an ointment would do, but Gale almost lost all the hairs in his nose when we tested it. Do you remember how the place smelled?”

He thought for a moment, “Like burnt sulfur and strawberries.”

Vistri laughed, “Strawberry?”

Astarion shrugged, “That’s the way I always thought of it.”

“Something burning, magical, and a little sweet,” she agreed.

Her fingers lightly brushed along his arms while they sat and watched the comets dance. Under the stars, the gentle and ordinary became an aphrodisiac. Her touch was a habit; her fingertips always languidly stroked Astarion’s arms when they talked together like this. She was doing the very same now, paying no mind to her gesture or the way it made his skin feral.

Astarion took her hand and dragged it downward for Vistri to bear witness to the effect she was having on him. She stopped her breath, her body screaming for his.

“What do you say, dear? Time for the rings?”

#vistarion #fic update #new one shot #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #ten year fic #bg3 spoilers

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scuttling · 3 years

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Animals

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,766 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Insecure reader, Crushes, Some very public secret touching, Fingering, Pool sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Based on this prompt from anon: "Reader in a red skimpy bikini at one of rossi’s pool parties trying to get hotch to loosen up….what happens when she gets a little too close when they’re swimming in the pool?" I uh 🥵 Link to A03 or read below! Going to Rossi’s for dinner as a team has to be one of your favorite things in life. There is always good food, good drink, teasing and grinning and laughter; you all get to decompress, destress, enjoy each other’s company as people and not because someone’s life depends on it.

You get to see Hotch as a person, too, and that’s kind of the best part. He’s the one who needs to relax and unwind more than anyone, so when he’s there with you all, casually dressed, softer, and quick to smile, it’s no wonder you… feel things.

You’re not an animal. You can feel things without acting on those feelings; you are more than your instincts. So what if you get butterflies in your stomach when he offers to pour you more wine? So what if your breathing picks up when he’s so close you can feel his breath on your neck? So what if you end these nights at home, alone in your bed, wishing he was beside you, inside you? He’s still off limits.

Your body’s reactions to him are normal, chemical, biological, and pointless, because he could be standing half naked in front of you and you would still be able to control yourself. You are a brain that happens to be in a body, not a body that happens to have a brain.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when Rossi invites everyone over, not for dinner, but an evening pool party.

A pool party. Fuck.

You are one hundred percent apprehensive, but for two different reasons. One is that you are a little self-conscious, and you prefer jeans and t-shirts over any other clothing; wearing a swimsuit in front of your coworkers seems extremely daunting. The other reason is that seeing Hotch in his swimsuit might actually be more terrifying, because you talk a big game about being able to control yourself, but if presented with his hot body, dripping wet, maybe his hair slicked back, a drop of water on his nose...

You take a deep breath, blow it out slowly. You’re just going to tell them you feel sick and can’t make it. Probably no one will care anyway.

You’re just gathering your things to leave work for the weekend, preparing to smile sadly and tell your lie, when Hotch appears at your side, his bag slung over his shoulder. He’s leaving work on time for once; it’s a freaking miracle.

“You’re coming to Rossi’s, right?” he asks softly, and you get those goddamn butterflies. You smile, not sadly.

“Yeah, definitely. I need to go home and get my swimsuit, though. I think I have one... somewhere.” It’s been a while since you had a vacation; wherever it is, you hope it still fits. He swallows, nods.

“Right, of course. I’ll see you there, then.” He brushes a hand carefully over your shoulder and passes you, heads for the door. You take another deep breath.

You are not an animal.

Right?

You arrive at Rossi’s house last, because you spent so long looking in the mirror, trying to convince yourself to just accept the way the swimsuit fits.

The only one you could find was from college, a little red string bikini, and since your body is obviously different now, it’s a little too small. You’re mostly covered, though, except for your ass, and no one is going to be paying much attention anyway. These people are like your brothers and sisters—or in Rossi’s case, your fun uncle—with the exception of Hotch, but you know he’s not going to be looking.

You walk into the backyard in your coverup, a cute black and white tunic, and everyone is swimming but JJ and Hotch. JJ is standing off to the side, phone at her ear, and Hotch is sitting on a lounge chair, not lounging at all. His spine looks rigid, but you can’t imagine why.

“Beer, my dear?” Rossi calls, holding up his own Corona. “Over by Hotch.” You smile and head toward him, bending to reach into the cooler for a drink; he looks a little more comfortable when he sees you, and says hello. You reply, then lift the bottom of your tunic to try to twist off the bottle cap, to no avail.

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching for your bottle, and he wraps his t-shirt around it, pops it open and hands it back.

“Thanks.” You take a long sip, your head tilted back; after all the self-scrutiny, you feel like you earned this one. “Why aren’t you swimming?”

“I will; didn’t feel like it yet,” he says, looking up at you, and you put a hand on your hip.

“Only you would come to a pool party and not swim, Hotch. Live a little.” You take another long sip, if you can call it that—the bottle is half empty already—and then set it down on the table, pull your tunic over your head. Might as well undress where fewer people are paying attention. “Come on,” you say, reaching out a hand. “I will if you will.”

He looks you over like he thinks you’re crazy or something, staring at you for a long moment, and then nods, lets you pull him up to standing. He tugs his shirt off too, and you do your best not to stare, because he is even hotter than you’d imagined, his chest broad and strong, arms strong too, and there’s a trail of hair disappearing beneath his swim trunks that you would like to explore with your mouth. You take a calming breath, turn to head for the edge of the pool, and he follows behind you; Derek looks up and whistles, and you feel yourself flush hot.

“Okay, Baywatch,” he calls with a grin, “come toward me again, but this time run in slow motion.” You roll your eyes and remind yourself not to try to cover up. If he sees you nervous, it’s just going to get that much worse.

“Shut up. It’s the only one I had,” you reply, and you look back at Hotch, who’s just standing there behind you and not saying anything. It’s like he’s afraid to get too close to the pool, or something; no way a big bad FBI guy is scared of water, right?

You get in the pool, and it feels blissfully good on this 80+ degree day, even though the sun is down; you dunk your head just to get it over with, before someone does it for you, and when you come up, you hum happily and rub your wet hair back out of your face.

You look at Hotch, who is sitting on the edge with his feet in the pool. It’s a total cop out, and you swim over to him and carefully put your hands on his legs beneath the water. He looks down at you seriously and doesn’t move.

“Come on, all the way in. For me.” He wets his lips, and you’re about 80% sure he’s going to ignore you, so you just let go of his legs and back away; he absolutely surprises you by dropping into the water with a splash. He goes under, pops up and shakes his wet hair, droplets clinging to his shoulders. You laugh out loud and give him a shove, glad, again, that you’d chosen to submerge yourself already.

“Are you happy now?” he asks, voice dry, but with a playful smile, and you nod and smile as well. Yes, you’re happy, maybe a little happier than you should be: you can feel that your nipples are hard beneath the thin material of the bikini top. Your stupid body is sending signals, and you’re entering the danger zone, your brain and body fighting for dominance; your stupid body may be winning.

Do not engage, your brain repeats when you look at wet Hotch, a sight to behold, all big and drippy and firm; your body whispers in your ear like the devil on your shoulder, just go for it—he will feel really good—what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yes,” is all you say, moving closer to him even though there’s a warning bell going off in your brain. Do not engage!! “All I wanted was for you to loosen up a little, to relax.” You’re less than a foot from him, and no one is paying either of you any attention, busy playing with an inflatable beach ball or singing along to the radio or drifting around on a lounge float. You two might as well be the only people in the world, or at least that’s how it feels.

“I’m… loose,” he says, his voice low and rough, and something about it makes you feel less inhibited, like maybe it’s not just you who wants this; your hand brushes his waist, and then his hand brushes your hip, and then you lean closer and your leg brushes…

Very loose indeed, if loose equals horny, because that’s definitely not a gun in his trunks and he’s definitely happy to see you.

“Sorry,” you breathe, but you don’t feel sorry. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and you brush him more purposefully this time: your thigh against his bulging cock.

Do not engage!!

“Don’t be,” he replies eventually, and then it’s your hand moving of its own accord, palming him, big and hard. He closes his eyes, wets his lips. You want to bite his throat, to lick it, to get your hand down his shorts and feel him; you’re about to do that, your fingers slipping past the elastic, his breath hitching, and then the beach ball smacks down in the water right beside the two of you and you jump apart, startled.

“Sorry!” Emily calls, and Hotch bats the ball back over to them, and then you just look at each other. Was that a close call you never mention again, or…?

Now or never, your body says. He was about to let you put your hand in his pants. Try it again.

You are not an animal.

You try it again.

This time, you make it past the waistband, and you wrap your fingers around his dick. It’s thick, and hot, and smooth, and he reaches out a hand to grip your waist hard, his eyes boring into yours. You wet your lips, move your fingers to the head, rub it, and then you stroke him three times just to see what he looks like when you do.

He’s gorgeous, unsurprisingly, his eyes lidded and his chest heaving, and you rub him softly one more time and then withdraw your hand; apparently you’re cool with groping your boss in the same pool as the rest of your coworkers, but an actual orgasm is where you draw the line.

You are also breathing heavy, so turned on you’re almost shaking with need, and then Hotch reaches down and slides his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, rubs the pads of two fingers along your slit. It takes everything you have not to moan at his touch, especially when he dips lower, prods at your opening where you are already slick. He takes a deep breath, and it looks like he’s fighting for strength too, which makes you feel a little better.

At least you’re both animals, now.

He pulls back only to get his hand on your ass, to squeeze it so hard your body shifts forward. You look up at him, and he looks down at you, and everything that needs to be said is said with your eyes.

You drift apart a little bit, but you still feel the ghost of his touch and maybe always will.

You float around, and talk a little; you get out to finish your beer, to grab you both another, and now that you know he’s into you, you maybe make climbing out look a little sexy. When you ease back in, hand him his bottle, he makes eye contact while he wraps his lips around it and takes a long drink.

Eventually, the others interact with the two of you, and it feels so strange to pretend that you and Hotch didn’t just fucking fondle each other fifteen feet away. It also feels really dirty, and that only serves to make you wetter. The glances he’s shooting you don’t help that situation much, either.

Garcia and Emily are the first to leave, and then Reid, until the only ones left are the two of you, Derek, and JJ. JJ says goodbye, heads out, and then Derek gets ready to leave. Rossi says he’ll walk him out, that he’s going to turn in, but that you and Hotch are welcome to stay as long as you like, and to just please lock the front door when you go.

“Couldn’t get you to get in, now can’t get you to get out,” Derek teases Hotch; you preen a little, because you know you’re the cause of both, and when Derek and Rossi leave, the air becomes thick with tension again. You open your mouth but don’t know what to say.

It’s Hotch who actually speaks first.

“I’ve thought about doing that for a very long time,” he murmurs, and you move closer to him, get your hands on his waist again. “You are so fucking beautiful, all the time, but in that bikini… were you just trying to tempt me?” he asks, a sincere question, and you shake your head.

“It’s really the only one I own. I got it in college, so it’s a little small now,” you explain, and he chuckles, soft and low.

“Well then, I guess I’m glad you don’t swim much, because you’re absolutely breathtaking. I was having a very hard time keeping my hands off of you, so I’m glad that you… initiated.” He puts his hands on your ass, pulls you closer, and you wrap your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck.

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember, you’re so fucking perfect.” You bring a hand to his wet hair and guide him down for a deep, steamy kiss, rubbing against his hard-on and moaning softly, since you can, now. “I want you, Hotch.”

“I need you,” he says, and that’s so much hotter; you reach between you to push down his shorts, taking him in your hand and stroking him again while he holds you up, and then you ease your bottoms to the side and guide him inside you, moaning and tipping your head back when he presses in. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, and you cling to him, kiss him harder, and move in his arms.

“Oh, god, Hotch,” you breathe against his lips, working your hips against his thrusts. “You feel so good, so big and hard and good.” He groans, buries his face in your neck, and pumps up into you roughly, like he’s getting close already.

God, this is amazing, pure fucking, the outcome of being up to your eyeballs in sexual tension—you’re connecting the dots now, seeing how some things you thought were innocent between the two of you were absolutely not—and when he comes he pounds hard inside you, and you dig your nails into his neck and bounce on him until he groans and slides out, sensitive.

“Oh, wow,” he exhales, and then he turns so you’re up against the wall of the pool and lets you go, holding out his hands so you know to stay there. You stretch your arms out on either side of you, breathing hard, and he leans in, moves your top out of the way and sucks on a nipple, then reaches down and pushes your bottoms aside again, presses his fingers deep and fucks you with them.

“Hotch, oh, fuck.” He looks up at you through dark lashes, nips at your breast, and then lifts his mouth off and begs you to come until you do, practically strangling his fingers as you clench tight around him.

He pulls his hand away after getting you through it, fixes your suit and then his, and then pulls you back into his arms and kisses you for a long time, full of yearning and passion and satisfaction. You sigh against his mouth, touch his face, and offer for him to spend the night at your place.

He does, and you have sex on the kitchen counter, and in your bed, and then on the floor the next morning.

You animals. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years

Text

Rampage (Hunter x reader)

WARNINGS BAD BATCH EPISODE 5 SPOILERS

click read more if you've seen the ep bc this fic is about it!

also to be clear i'm not romanticizing slavery - there's nothing romantic about it. The fic is supposed to be more about how hunter feels towards the reader when she's put in danger.

summary: Captured by slavers, hunter witnesses the leader of them make a fatal mistake.

reader pronouns = she/her

warnings: mentions of slavery and implications towards reader being sold to the hutts...

Hunter is beginning to wonder if the galaxy is working against him. After all, how does a simple smash and grab go so wrong? In his squad's defense they hadn't prepared for whatever flying menace the zygerrians had tamed. Though it doesn’t make the electro-collar sit more comfortably around his neck, even if his vod are being just as problematic as usual.

“I think it’s getting looser!” Wrecker says, twisting it around his neck, before promptly being shocked by the guard looking over them. And as Echo points our the laws against slavery, and he too is shocked Hunter see’s you push the fragile clone behind you protectively.

“Come off it!” You sneer in your coruscanti accent. And while his face stays solom Hunter can't help but enjoy the way your voice sounds and his heart flutters at your protectiveness. The sound of the whip makes everyones head turn.

“You want to say that again, skug?” the slaver taunts you. And unconsciously Hunter is already moving towards you. Maker, you stir up feelings in his chest Hunter didn’t even know existed. Tech had called him obsessed when you had first joined the team, but obsessed didn’t seem to cover all the different ways he fell for you. Had he had more time to contemplate what was going through his head and his heart he might’ve realised not only that he was in love with you, but that you had fallen head over heels for the sergeant as well.

Hunter is broken from his thoughts by the sound of laughter.

“Look at what we have here.” says the zygerrian obviously in charge, as he walks down towards the group of you. “ Five new slaves to add to my collection. Strong ones too.” Hunter hates the way he’s looking and talking to his vod, but when the slaver scum turns and notices you, a different type of hate starts to boil.

“Look at you!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together in excitement. Watching you front your knelt place in front of Echo and essentially giggling when you swift backwards away from him.

“How lucky am I…” He says as he motions for his guard to wrench you to your feet, Hunter watches as you struggle and twist in your armour and how your hair goes wild with the movement. “To have had a creature as stunning as you, just waltz into my hands?” As Hunter goes to stand as well, he’s stopped by the chain that restrains him to the rock. He settles to glaring at the man instead, even more so when he stands too close to you. Looking you up and down and craning his neck around as well.

“Savor the view while you can, I won’t be in your hands for long.” You tell them determinedly and dangerously. Chuckling again the zygerrian reaches out slowly to wrap his hand around your jaw and grip your face until it hurts.

“I can tell you’ll need an attitude adjustment.” He snarls watching your hands come up to try and pry his own off of your face.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” Hunter says slowly. The tattoo looking more mancacing than normal thanks to the way his face glares at the zygerrian. With a snap of his fingers, a moment later there's searing pain throughout his body, his muscles clenching and tensing against the electrical current forces through them. Hunter stiffins and then slumps as the collar turns on and off. And when his eyes open again the man has dragged you over to Hunter, a firm hand around your neck.

“Take her in.” The Slaver says, pushing you to your knees so that you’re level with the love of your life. “Take a good long look.” He says into your ear, but he’s not really talking to you, more like taunting a very dangerous man. Hunter knows he’s the one binded at the moment but all he can focus on is everything he's going to do to the zygerrian when he gets out of his shackles. Only to acknowledge the man when you let out a noise of pain as he pushes you forward.

“I hope you realise how generous I am.” He states, “letting you say goodbye.”

Hunter goes feral, at the implication of never seeing you again, at the inferred separation he sees red and tugs impossibly hard on his chains.

“There’s so many places she could go,” He taunts ever so calmly. Hunter can recognize Tech trying to reason with him, telling him it’s a mind game and to relax, but he doesn’t care. The only thing he can see and hear is you - and the threat of never seeing or hearing you again.

“If she’s lucky i’ll sell her as a servant, but that would be a waste, imagine how much the hutts would pay for something like this.” Hunter assumes he’s actually beginning to scare the slaver because he receives another shock.

And by the time he recovers, you’ve been thrown aside as everyone races after the Rancor and Omega.

It’s much later when the sergeant seeks you out. Preoccupied with the adrenaline and the events from the day, he hasn’t been able to get the privacy he wanted. But now the ship is quiet, and the only thing interrupting the two of you is the hum of the engine as the ship hurtles through hyperspace.

“You killed him, didn’t you?” It's a question he knew was coming, and he considers lying to you telling you he left him for officials to find, but Hunter can’t bring himself to be dishonest. He could never be dishonest to you.

“Yes.” He says plainly, turning his head to look at you in the passenger seat, a conflicted look on your face, shucking off his gloves, Hunter engages autopilot.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” you cut him off, “don’t apologies.” Your voice is softer now. And he can't help the way he looks at you as he moves to kneel in front of your chair. Running his bare hands over your thighs, which look so much smaller without the armour plating attached.

Intimacy isn’t foreign between you and him, in fact you’re the only person Hunter likes to be close to. Rather than get overwhelmed by you, he indulges in the way you feel under his hands. He smiles as you gasp when his hands meet your waist.

“Is this okay?” He inquires, seeing you nod before sinking down awkwardly to be level with him. Hunter has to bite back a groan when his hands move under your tunic and his calloused fingers splay over your shoulder blades.

“Hunter…” You murmur his name as he pulls you flush against him and buries his face into your neck.

“I was scared.” He admits, for the first time in his life, the sergeant of Clone Force 99 tells someone he was afraid.

“I wasn’t.” You pull back to stare him down. “I’m never afraid when I'm with you.” you’re trying to read him - he can tell. And he tries not to think of how much he enjoyed when his hands wrapped around the zygerrian’s neck and he flailed around as life was choked out of him and he realized his fatal mistake.

He pushes all of that from his mind as he kisses you.

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

gladiator jk?? 🤭🗡

I’ve written quite a few historicals, but never in the Rome era or quite as far back. So please excuse the historical inaccuracies and all that. I did my best to do a half hour crash course on it.

↳ Spare and Surrender

2.5k || 50% Fluff, 50% Angst || Jeon Jungkook || Gladiator!AU

Jungkook is a star.

He’s won eight games — five against wild beasts and three against other gladiators where he killed two and maimed the other. The entire Colosseum always cheers when he enters. He knows he’s become a favourite, that there are those who bet their life savings on him, and most importantly, he always wins.

The fact that he’s alive is enough proof.

But in spite of the horrors he’s had to face, of the lives he’s had to take, Jungkook still likes it. They give him a place to sleep, three delicious meals a day, and baths and massages whenever he wants. Jungkook is good at what he does too. He isn’t like those elite men from the senate who rigged the fights in their favour and perform simply for their own amusement. The scars on his body are the evidence of his strength and true victories. Jungkook is talented. He was one of the best during training, heard endless praise and even now the roars of the people make him feel alive. Even when asked if he wanted to be free, he refused. Jungkook bleeds competitiveness and the games have become his reason to live.

Today, the crowd is cheering again. But it’s not for him.

“Who’s up there?” he asks a fellow fighter, Darius.

“The new one. You haven’t heard of him?”

The two of them climb the steps, candle fire illuminating their figures and casting their shadows against the underground stone walls.

“They call him the Mouse Dragon.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why?”

“Because he’s as tiny as a mouse, but as fierce and swift as a dragon.” The clamour of the crowds become louder the closer they get to the center. There’s light from the end of the tunnel closest to Jungkook and curiosity makes him go closer. “He’s already won five games, Jeon. He might take your place soon.”

Darius nudges him with a small grin. But Jungkook doesn’t take it lightly.

He follows the light and peeks out of the barred tunnel to see you.

You’re in amber armour, silver dagger in hand as you encircle a wounded bear. It growls, leaps forward at the speed of light, but you don’t evade. You lurch forward and before the animal’s sharp teeth can rip into your skin, the dagger pierces into the side of its throat.

The bear roars in pain and you dig the blade into it before pulling out to pierce it again.

Finally, the large creature drops dead at your feet. The crowd bursts into wild howls and screams. It’s deafening.

Jungkook slinks back into the shadows.

He doesn’t know how he remained so ignorant as to not know you, to not know a fellow gladiator who won so many games. Granted, your number of victories is far from his, but it’s still notable especially when most gladiators died in their first games and few made it past ten. Jungkook plans on making it there. But at this rate, you might as well. And there was no room for two stars. Not when fame was fickle and he planned to become the most famous.

He allowed his arrogance to blind him for long enough. It’s time to make himself known to you, to show you what a real gladiator is and let you know your place.

Jungkook returns underground, darting past the many fighters preparing for their own matches. He brushes past the guards and trainers, ignoring the cry of the animals kept in their cages.

Down here, there was its own chaos. Chaos that is kept from the eyes of the public.

But when he gets to the place where survivors usually recover and collect themselves, the hall is empty and much quieter. The noise of the Colosseum is merely muffled faintly above him.

Jungkook whips back the curtain of the first room, but it’s empty. He turns on his heel, calms down his temper and glances through the gaps of the curtains, searching for you. He sees no one in the second room and no one in the third.

He’s about to relent and look for you on the training grounds later on. But at the fourth room, Jungkook’s vision unintentionally trails through the small space between the curtain and the wall.

His eyes grow wide as it lands on you. Unraveling your chest bindings.

You look up on instinct. Your pupils connect with his doe, brown eyes. A gasp rips from your throat.

But by then, he’s gone. Like a ghost or the smoke of a flame.

Jungkook strides back from where he came from, feet moving quickly. He’s in disbelief, utter confusion—

And a hand wraps around his wrist. In an instant, Jungkook’s yanked into one of the rooms.

You’re panting, chest rising and falling as you hold your bindings to your breasts.

His eyes weren’t wrong. “You’re a woman.”

“And you’re Jungkook.”

He blinks. “You know me?”

“Who doesn’t?” You slip the worn tunic on, and Jungkook realizes how small you really are. Up close, your neck is slim and your wrists small. But unlike the others, he knows it’s not because you’re a tiny, frail man. You’re a woman. “I’ve watched your games before.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here?” You face him, gaze intense and fierce without once wavering. He can’t be threatened. Not when he’s Jungkook, someone who’s quickly becoming one of the strongest gladiators of Rome. Yet for some reason, he’s held in his spot because of you. “I was a slave and was going to be sold as a prostitute.”

“So you pretended to be a man and train as a gladiator.”

“At least I can win enough prize earnings to pay for my freedom. Or I can die. Either way, it’s better than what was in store for me.”

Jungkook’s taken aback by the determination ablaze in your eyes, by the strength and conviction in your voice. “There are female gladiators, you don’t need to hide yourself.”

“If they knew I was a woman, they’d want me to expose my breasts and fight and no one would take me seriously.” You hiss at him like he knows nothing, “What kind of prize earnings would I get then if they’re pitting me against dwarves for their own amusement.”

Jungkook looks at you — he really looks at you. Beyond a fighter in the Colosseum, beyond a fellow competitor, beyond a heroic gladiator who garners cheers.

He feels foolish.

Small-minded. Short-sighted.

His intentions of intimidation and putting you in your place has long vanished. You and him are so different. He can’t compare to you.

You don’t fight for sport. You fight to escape.

“Don’t tell anyone.” You soften. “I hate owing others, but please. I beg of you. Let me be.”

“I was a slave too.” In the farthest confines of his mind, Jungkook still hears the screaming, the burning city, Romans taking him in the midst of their conquests. And the others. The difference between him and them was that he was stronger. He survived. But he almost let himself forget. “If you made it this far, it means you’re strong as well. I have no business in revealing your secret.”

Jungkook had almost forgotten what life outside the Colosseum meant. He almost forgot the thirst to survive. To live on without needing to fight another day.

But as he looks at you, the memories return. It makes him feel sickly. He pushes them away.

“But for a price.”

The relief on your expression washes away just as quickly as it came. “What price?”

“Tell me your name. Your real name.”

You hesitate before the secret tumbles from your lips. “It’s Y/N.”

...

Jungkook sees you again in the training barracks. Now that your face isn’t simply one amongst the crowd, blurring together with the men, now that he can pick you out by just the back of your head, he often joins you. Whether it be pity or curiosity, he isn’t quite sure yet. But he speaks to you when he has the chance, invites you to sit and eat at the table with him much to the confusion of fellow gladiators, and he trains with you during the day.

He can tell you’re not fond of his attention as it garners the attention of the other men. After all, Jungkook doesn’t often associate himself with fellow fighters and certainly not those that are supposedly lower than he is. But he can also tell that you like his training help.

“Stab, don’t slash.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re still doing it.”

“I survived this far without your help, Jungkook.”

“And you’re going to need my help if you want to keep surviving and earn your way to freedom.”

The corner of his mouth tugs when you’re rendered to silence.

But you’re not the only one to gain from the relationship. Jungkook enjoys sparring with you. He likes it when your sword clashes against his, when your shields are struck. You’re a formidable competitor. While he is sturdy, swift and strong, you are agile and dexterous. He is especially impressed when you tumble away from him like your bones have turned to air.

Jungkook has always liked his women elegant with intelligent eyes, dressed in beautiful clothes that drift through the breeze. You, on the other hand, are rough when you wield weapons. Your words can be crude and he’s never once seen you in finery. Yet, he is absolutely stricken with you.

And maybe that’s why he feels a need to protect you through the fight—

“The Mouse Dragon! The Unstoppable Beast!”

The crowd goes wild as you both enter the Colosseum together. The nicknames given to the two of you are absurd, but Jungkook still feels pride that he’s famed enough to be named.

It was posted earlier today that you’d be fighting together against an exotic animal from the west. A creature with a large trunk, two tusks and whose height towers him twice over.

Perhaps the trainers saw how close he was becoming with you. Maybe the rumours began to take that he was your mentor and you were going to become the next bold gladiator. Either way, you were put together.

Jungkook looks to you and the both of you nod, preparing your stances as the animal is released from its confines. It cries out and decides to trample towards you.

The game lasts ten minutes. It always does and it’s the longest ten minutes he knows.

Jungkook is reckless this time. More than what he is used to.

“You don’t need to protect me—” you spit at him, standing shoulder to shoulder, catching your breaths.

He knows, but he can’t help it. “Who says I am?”

Jungkook strikes when he should be holding up his shield. He surges forward before you can. And he’s clearly more worn than you are. But it’s not for the cheers, not for the crowd to chant his name, and he isn’t trying to steal the spotlight from you.

You narrow your eyes in on him. “I can handle it on my own.”

You do.

The creature becomes wounded from your stabs and blood splatters across your face. But in the moment of the animal’s death, it wails out and leans on its hind legs with its last effort. From the force, you’re thrown to the ground. About to be trampled. About to be crushed.

Yet before it can come down, before you can brace yourself — Jungkook digs his entire sword through its side.

The animal falls over. The dust is awakened into a cloud.

The crowd screams all around you and your gaze meets Jungkook’s, knowing he saved your life.

The game is something to remember. So much so that a close trainer, Marcus Namjoon, whispers that the next time the two of you will have to fight a more ferocious beast. The lion.

“How will you manage?” he asks you that same night as you’re seated on the wooden steps.

“I’ll just have to or I’ll die.” The corner of your mouth curls as the light of the stars glow against your face and makes you look like a goddess. Jungkook is sure you must be the child of Ares and Aphrodite. “May the best warrior survive.”

His hand crumples into a fist. He tears his eyes away from your magnificence.

Sooner or later, you will win your freedom or sooner or later, you will die. Or worse. Jungkook knows how the games go. He’s been here for years and he knows why these matches exist. It’s all to distract the public of more important matters and if something happens, if a big enough distraction is needed, sooner or later, Jungkook will be pitted against you.

Then, he will have to kill you or at least maim you. Or he will have to be your sacrifice.

“Take this.”

He drops a leather pouch into your lap and looks away.

It’s heavy and you tug the strings. A gasp pulls on your lips. Gold and silver gleams back at you.

“Jungkook…”

“It’s all of my earnings I’ve saved so far. With what you have, together it should be enough to buy your freedom.” It becomes silent and he lets the peace of the night settle into him.

“Why?”

“Because you desire freedom more than I have ever desired anything.” That might be a lie. There is one thing Jungkook desires most that could possibly contend — and he’s looking at it. Looking at you. “If there’s anyone who deserves this, it’s you. I would not regret it if this is where my earnings went.”

“W-What about the fight?”

“I’ll have a better chance than you do.”

“Jungkook.”

You take his face within your hands to kiss him. He feels your soft lips and in spite of being a warrior, your body is even softer. You feel feminine under his touch and as he years for more, he grabs a hold of your waist and pulls you flush against him. Jungkook inhales your yelp, your tongues sloppy against one another.

A hunger from inside him awakens. Jungkook wants to have you right here, right now. But you part from him, catching your breath.

Under the stars, Jungkook has become entirely enraptured by you.

“I’ll work.” You make an oath to him. “I’ll save enough to free you.”

Jungkook’s never thought of leaving before. Even as a distinguished warrior, when he had been asked if he wanted to be granted freedom, he refused. He likes it here. There’s a roof over his head, he gets three meals and gains attention and fame that he could never get on his own.

Yet, you are a bigger reason than all other reasons.

He has never desired anything more than being with you.

A smile tugs on his lips. “It’s a promise I’ll hold you to then.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook reader insert #bts reader insert #jungkook x reader #Anonymous #Jimlings #LET'S GOOOO

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astradrifting · 3 years

Text

AGOT - Jon I (Chapter 5)

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

I don’t know why D&D decided Jon could never lie, when literally the first line in his POV is a lie. He’s so good at it he can even lie to himself!

****

A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

A singer with a high harp and a ballad seems like a vague Rhaegar allusion. That Jon can’t actually hear him makes me happy in a very petty way.

****

His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.

I think this part is actually Jon being indignant on Ned’s behalf that Cersei was rude to him, by not looking at him when he escorts her, not that she never looked at Jon. Also, there’s those observation skills. He’s never been taken in by a pretty smile.

****

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Adorable!!!

****

Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Jon’s a mean drunk I guess 💀

****

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

Joffrey according to Jon: 👁👄👁

But Sansa looked radiant 🥰

****

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him.

This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Giving me big ‘muscled like a maiden’s fantasy’ vibes there, Jon.

Also, curiously enough Jaime’s introduced wearing black and red, Targaryen colours. Maybe a nod to the incest storyline, possibly leftover foreshadowing from when Jaime was going to become king, as per the outline.

Otherwise this means that, like everybody else in this story, Jaime is a secret Targaryen. He and Cersei can join the ranks of Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Mance Rayder and while we’re at it… *spins a wheel of names* Meera too.

****

His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

Jon spends half this chapter on the verge of tears, my angsty little lad.

****

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s.

They actually call him Ben and ‘uncle Ben’ a few times in the series, which I honestly think might be a Spider-Man allusion. Surrogate father figure Uncle Ben’s early disappearance/death kicking off the plot… There’s also a saying that nobody stays dead in comics except for Uncle Ben - considering all the other resurrections in the books, metaphorical and literal, yet GRRM says that Benjen isn’t Coldhands, it might be the same for this Uncle Ben too.

****

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

"[Garlan] is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance." (ASOS, Sansa I)

Love a Jon-Garlan parallel! Also thinking about Garlan being the older brother made me realise - in the story everyone thinks that Jon is younger than Robb, but timeline-wise, he has to be older, because Robb was conceived in the two weeks before Ned left to fight at the Trident, and Rhaegar must have at least already been in the capital by then to rally the loyalists, so Jon was conceived weeks, if not months earlier. Which means that Ned has definitely lied about when Jon’s birthday is.

Jon being the product of a ‘youthful indiscretion’ before he was married is less of a stain on Ned’s honour than him betraying his marriage bed but I imagine Catelyn’s fears about Jon usurping her children might have had more basis if he was known to be the eldest, so maybe that’s why Ned lied about how old he is.

****

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

"A conquest that lasted a summer," his uncle pointed out. "Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game." He took another sip of wine. "Also," he said, wiping his mouth, "Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?"

Jon is unfortunately, a jock. And a bit of an idiot.

There’s something about Jon’s hero dying at 18, Waymar dying at 18 just a few chapters ago... Jon has them all beat by dying at 17.

****

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Establishing Benjen as a somewhat contentious father figure to Jon - even more fuel for my brand new Uncle Ben ‘theory’.

****

The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl.

"Shy, isn't he?" Lannister observed.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

Possibly he and Sansa are the only ones who properly trained their direwolves, considering how the rest of them will end up behaving.

****

“If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be.

Pffffft! Edgy edgy edge-lord 💀

Though I also always feel like issuing casual threats to Tyrion Lannister so I can’t really blame him.

****

Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

He’s got a weird preoccupation with comparing his height to Lannister men in this chapter. My headcanon for the books is that Jon’s quite tall by ADWD but evidently he’s tiny in AGOT if he feels strange being tall next to a dwarf.

****

final thoughts:

Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have Jonsa in mind with my new Uncle Ben theory, but I did just remember that brown haired Peter Parker’s main love interest is red-haired MJ :P

#astra re-reads #agot re-read #jon chapters

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attllhak · 3 years

Text

I 100% blame @kagrenacs entirely for this. This is your fault. You gave me Ideas.

Also, @tortilla-of-courage I promised I’d tag you in this. Here’s that crack fic I talked about where Mario is Malon’s step-father.

Behold, a crack fic.

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

Link had been dating Malon officially for about three months when the letter came.

Link had arrived at the ranch about the same time as the postman left, having just got back home from another adventure trying to help clear out a temple that had been invaded by monsters that the regular soldiers were struggling with. He went so Sheik wouldn’t, as apparently Zelda was needed at the castle for something else.

Malon was waving goodbye at the postman as Link and Epona trotted up, the boy leaning to the side of the saddle to blink at his girlfriend.

Epona snorted and nudged Malon’s head to get her attention.

“Oh what, Epona!” Malon laughed, reaching up to stroke her hand along the mare’s face. “And that means,”

Link waved at her with a smile.

“Link!” Malon grinned, coming around Epona’s side to meet him. “You’re home!”

Link nodded as he leaned down to kiss her hello, feeling much better now that he was back at the ranch, even if he was still bruised and achy and very possibly bleeding. Malon almost made him feel the way the forest did, like he was home.

He swung over and dismounted the horse, smiling as Malon pulled him into a hug.

Malon then pushed him away and spun him around. Link was confused for about one second before,

“Are you bleeding?”

Link shrugged, not entirely sure himself.

Malon made a strangled noise and then she was dragging him inside. “Honestly, Link. What part of ‘be careful’ do you not understand? You know, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up here bleeding sometimes,”

Link just smiled at the back of her head, not affected by her berating in the least. She’d lectured him on this before, and would do so again in the future, and he knew she wasn’t as mad as she pretended to be. At this point her yelling was as much standard fare as her patching him up was.

Link hopped up to sit on the kitchen table, watching as Malon dropped the letter on the table next to him before digging out the first aid kit she kept stocked in the room.

In lieu of anything else to look at, Link glanced down at the letter next to him. There was a red seal on the back, not dissimilar to the ones Zelda used when writing letters, though instead of the Hylian crest this seal had the image of a mushroom on it. Flipping it over saw words in neat curling letters in an alphabet Link didn’t recognize. This wasn’t surprising, as up until a year or so ago he still struggled with written Hylian. He set the letter down when he heard a door open in a different part of the house.

“Malon!” Talon shouted through the house. “Did you know Epona was out front? I thought Link had taken her,” he stopped when he turned into the kitchen and saw his daughter standing up with a first aid kit and the mentioned adventurer on his table. Link waved. “Link! You’re back!”

Link nodded, smiling at Talon as Malon opened the first aid kit on the table and started sorting through the contents.

“Link just got back a minute ago,” Malon informed her father as she had Link pull off his tunic. “He’s bleeding still, so I’m going to patch him up before he fills us in on his latest adventure,” she paused, then picked up the letter that she’d received when Link arrived. “Oh, and we got a letter from mom,”

She handed over the letter to her dad, Link watching the paper with curiosity. Malon’s mother? She’d never mentioned her mother to him before, and he’d never pried. He assumed her mother was dead, since she wasn’t around and no one talked about her, but he was also pretty sure dead people didn’t send letters. Pretty sure, not totally sure. Considering what he’d already seen on his adventures, he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility.

Talon grumbled as he opened it, Malon pulling Link’s attention to her as she went about patching him up as best she could. A few minutes passed, Link occasionally hissing as Malon applied a disinfectant, and then Malon declared him patched up, wandering over to look at the letter over her father’s shoulder.

“What does it say?” She asked, crowding him as Link shrugged back into his tunic.

“It’s an invitation,” Talon handed it to her to read herself. “Some kind of Star Carnival or something, happens every couple of years. She’s invited us to come,”

Link slowly raised his hand, then waved when he noticed no one was paying attention to him. Talon looked up, then nudged Malon to get her attention. Link waved his hands at the letter then at the two of them, then threw his hands up in confusion. True, he could have signed, but he only thought of that afterwards.

“Oh, right,” Malon bounced over to sit next to him to hold the letter where he could see it. He looked at it, then at her. Malon scoffed. “It’s an invitation from my mother to come to the Star Carnival in the Mushroom Kingdom,”

Link blinked, then sighed ‘Mushroom Kingdom’ back at her with his face twisted up in confusion.

Malon blinked at him, then snapped her fingers. “Oh right, I never told you about my mother, did I? She lives in a neighboring kingdom off to the west, and her and dad had a bit of a falling out a few years after I was born. Dad and Ingo moved to Hyrule, and mom remarried. I have a half sister over there now,”

Link nodded slowly, then waved at the letter again.

“Oh, mom will occasionally invite us back for festivals and stuff. It’s her way of keeping up with us, while respecting that dad moved away for a reason,” she paused, then her head snapped up and turned to him so quickly he had to lean back in order to not get hit. “You should come with us!”

Malon blinked at him, wide eyed and grinning. Link couldn’t possibly say no. He nodded.

Malon made a giddy sound and wrapped Link in a hug, then slid off the table to hand the letter to her father. She came back to grab his hands and pull him off the table too.

“Oh, you’ll love it, Link! The Star Carnival is great, there’s all sorts of games, and events, and everyone comes out for it,” Malon chatteled off, dragging Link with her so she could keep talking at him while she finished up her chores.

Link completely forgot he was supposed to tell Zelda about the temple.

About a week later Link found himself next to Malon in an oddly mushroom shaped carriage her mother sent to collect them for the carnival. Apparently this was normal for these trips, but the fact the carriage had nothing to pull it but still moved confused Link. According to Malon this was how most things worked, but he wasn’t convinced he liked that.

The trip was uneventful, except how Link kept jumping every time the carriage bumped. The little mushroom person (“He’s a Toad, they’re the race that makes up most of the Mushroom Kingdom’s people,” Malon told him) kept up a steady stream of talk, pointing out everything he saw. Link was very glad he’d managed to convince Malon to let him take one of his swords and the mirror shield with him, he felt much more comfortable armed.

His discomfort was overshadowed, however, when the site of the carnival came into view. A big red and white striped tent, with booths and stalls set up throughout the whole grounds. There were people streaming all through the area, humans, toads and some other things as well. Link found it incredible, and Malon had to pull him back into the carriage before he fell out the window.

Eventually, the carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the grounds and the three Hyruleans stepped out. There were a few long moments as Link looked around in awe, and confusion, at some of the things he was seeing. There were moving paintings positioned around the grounds showing some guy who was mostly hat and blaring his voice across the area. Malon called these moving paintings ‘video screens’, and that they were looking at something happening in a different part of the carnival. Link didn’t understand that, but they were moving along fast enough that he didn’t linger on it.

He was snapped out of looking at some star shaped pastries at a loud squeal, head snapping up and on alert. He relaxed when Malon laughed and waved in response.

“Malon!” A higher pitched voice called, belonging to a taller woman with bright blonde hair wearing a very big pink dress and long white gloves. She had a crown on her head. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” Malon laughed as she hugged the other woman. “Why would I miss this?”

Malon then switched to hugging and greeting another woman closer to her age, also wearing a crown but dressed in blue, her hair covering her right eye. A little chubby star creature floated next to her and waved.

Link blinked and watched the exchange, hovering off to the side.

“Oh!” Malon abruptly remembered him and turned to tug him up. “Link, I want you to meet my mother, Queen Peach, and my half sister Rosalina. Mom, Rosy, this is my boyfriend Link,”

Link managed to get himself out of his ‘Malon’s mom is queen???!?’ confusion loop long enough to bow, trying to be polite.

“Oh no, please don’t. No one has bowed to me in a very long time, and it’s weird to see now,” Queen Peach giggled lightly as Link straightened up, the tips of his ears turning red. “You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend,”

“Uh, surprise!” Malon waved her hands as she gave her mother and sister a sheepish grin. “I have a boyfriend! His name is Link,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rosalina extended her hand, and Link took it to shake.

Link nodded and grinned, then signed back ‘it’s nice to meet you too’ at her when she dropped his hand. Both women blinked at him and for a second he thought he’d done something wrong. He slowly lowered his hands and blinked at them too. Maybe they didn’t speak Hylian sign? He’d never encountered someone who couldn’t understand him, but outside of Hyrule it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh,” Malon jumped in, waving at him. “Link is mute, so he uses sign to talk. I should have mentioned that,”

“Oh,” Queen Peach brightened up again. “Of course. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Link. I hope you enjoy the carnival,” she signed as she spoke, and Link blinked at her, then matched her grin.

Link nodded happily, letting her know it wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before, but that he was enjoying things so far.

Queen Peach offered to show them around, which Malon accepted for them, and they went about walking through the grounds while the queen pointed out different attractions. Most of these involved events she called minigames, though a few featured other attractions. Apparently minigames were part of a big event called a Party, which was a competition people could compete in for prizes. Malon had very quietly dissuaded him from participating, as apparently she was worried a few of the minigames might mess with his trauma if he were to play them. Also, apparently Hylians weren’t as durable as the people of the Mushroom Kingdom.

“Oh!” Queen Peach bounced over to one of the video screens and grinned. “It looks like a Party is starting!”

Wandering up to join the toadstool queen, Link blinked up at the moving paintings on the screen, still confused as to how that worked. The man who was mostly hat introduced a group of four, a stout man in red with blue overalls with a very big mustache named Mario, a brunette woman in a yellow dress named Daisy, a stal-like creature that resembled the creatures Malon told him were koopahs who was introduced as Dry Bones, and a tall lanky man in purple who introduced himself as Waluigi. Queen Peach was grinning, and Malon was laughing a little at this.

Link tapped Malon’s shoulder and asked her who those people were.

“Oh, well Mario is mom’s husband, and Daisy is his brother’s wife. Dry Bones is a friend, I think, and Waluigi just shows up for events like this,” Malon explained to him, pointing as she did. “It can be hard to keep track of who’s friendly and who isn’t all the time, things change so often,”

“They don’t change often,” Queen Peach giggled. “The only time anything changes is when Bowser kidnaps me, then we’re briefly enemies, but we go back to being friends when Mario comes to rescue me,”

Link blinked at her, face scrunched up. She talked like this was normal. Apparently, this was quickly explained to him, it was. It was just the relationship those three had. Link wasn’t sure he’d ever understand that concept, but was willing to push it aside for the moment.

They stood and watched the Party, and Link was glad Malon had encouraged him not to try any of the minigames. She was right about a few of them not meshing well with his trauma. He’d actually had to turn away during one because of how much it reminded him of fighting Volvagia in the Fire Temple. It was pretty easy for Malon to work him down again, and he was ever so grateful for her and her patience with him, but they didn’t turn back until after the minigame was over.

Once the Party was over, Queen Peach eagerly dragged them over to something called a warp pad in order to greet her husband when he got there. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

Already waiting at the pad was a very large individual. He looked vaguely like a koopah, but was much bigger, and his shell was studded with spikes. Helpfully, Link’s mind supplied him with the theory that the koopah might be like the Zora, with the ruler being much bigger than the rest of their people, and so this might be their king.

He was right, he’d soon learn.

What had him stopping dead was the man next to him. Almost eight feet tall, bright red hair, black armor. The man was distinctly Gerudo, and looked identical to Ganondorf. Link reached out and grabbed Malon’s arm, pointing out the man to her and signing as fast as she could keep up. Malon had his shoulders in her hands, and was trying to talk to him slowly, the same way she did when working him down from a panic attack or a spike in anxiety. Maybe he was freaking out, he certainly didn’t feel calm. But Ganondorf shouldn’t be here, Zelda’s father had him executed. He shouldn’t be alive, let alone here.

“Is something wrong?” Queen Peach popped up in Link’s peripheral vision, but he was too busy trying not to panic to respond to her.

Thankfully, he had Malon.

“Kind of, Link’s had some, uh, adventures that have messed with his head a little. Bowser’s friend over there happens to look like a man named Ganondorf who tried to kill him more than once, with quite a bit of effort,” Malon rubbed Link’s arms as she spoke, glancing back at him every once in a while. “He’s a little freaked out to see someone who looks so similar, even if this can’t be Ganondorf, since Queen Zelda’s father, the late king, had him executed for trying to kill the royal family and steal Hyrule’s crown about ten or so years ago.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized,” Queen Peach paused, glancing back at Bowser and maybe-Ganondorf, then back to the two of them. “If you’ll give me a moment,”

She ducked out, and in the meantime Link managed to wrangle his breathing under control. Eventually, he felt confident enough in himself to not immediately try to stab maybe-Ganondorf, but he did pull the mirror shield onto his arm. He felt better when he had it out.

Link specifically kept his shield between himself and maybe-Ganondorf as they approached, Malon keeping a hand on his arm. The conversation petered out as they made it up.

Maybe-Ganondorf clapped his hands together, which had Link pulling up the shield and tensing. The maybe-Ganondorf paused, then spread his hands.

“I understand that someone who looked like me tried to hurt you in the past?” The man, who even sounded like Ganondorf, asked. Link was then hit again with the fact that in this timeline Ganondorf never actually tried to kill him, and even when he had it was both his past and future for a while. He nodded, not willing to dwell on the details of his seven year sleep and subsequent return to childhood. The man grimaced. “I am truly sorry then. My name is Greg, I am a good, friend, of Bowser’s, and I can assure you I am not the same man who wanted to see you come to harm,”

Link narrowed his eyes, but did peek a little further over his shield.

There was a long, tense moment where Link just looked over Greg, trying to decide how he felt about him. After several heartbeats where Link found nothing but honesty, he nodded and lowered the shield some. He didn’t put it away however.

Greg grinned, nodding back.

“You can probably put the shield away now,” Queen Peach offered gently.

Link just tightened his grip on the reflective defense and pulled it closer to himself.

“I don’t think that’s happening,” Malon said gently, squeezing his arm some. “It’s just, well, I’m sure it just makes him feel a little better, what with the situation and all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never got better around male Gerudo,” she tried to laugh.

“What’s a Gerudo?” Greg asked.

Link dropped the shield to his side and made a face.

(---)

The rest of the day was spent being introduced to a few others of Queen Peach’s friends, and then later avoiding Greg as best he could, and even watching Malon play some of the minigames with her sister.

Link felt a little bad about avoiding Greg, but he looked so much like Ganondorf that he really didn’t trust himself not to hurt the man. Better to just avoid him.

They were invited to spend the night at Peach’s castle, after which they’d return to the carnival the next day.

Somehow, between meeting Mario and crashing for the night, the plumber convinced him to agree to a race.

Link didn’t know how to use any of the racing machines they had.

He spent a great deal of time, at length, bemoaning his impulsivity to Malon, who eventually got tired enough with him to track down her stepfather and get him to teach Link to use one of the machines. Mario, to his credit, was surprisingly understanding and more than helpful.

It didn’t take long to decide Link would do better on a bike than in a kart.

Link also needed to help repair a wall later.

These are related.

“Alright,” Mario rubbed his hands together as he coached Link through the basics. “This-a thing here? That’s-a the brakes. You pull on-a those to slow down. This-a piece you twist, and that makes-a you go! You see?”

Link nodded slowly, pulling on the lever for the brakes and twisting the handle.

“Okay, let’s-a do one lap around the track, and-a see how you do,” Mario nodded back waving at the track. “Let’s-a go!”

Link gave a sharp nod, taking a deep breath as he did. This would be his fifth try at this.

Malon gave him a pair of thumbs up from the sidelines, grinning at him. He was glad she was more confident in him than he was.

He slowly twisted the handle, the machine puttering to life (a phrase Link was distinctly uncomfortable with) and eased forward gently. After a few moments he was increasing speed around the oval track, getting more comfortable with using the bike. He avoided the jumps he could, but managed to not wipe out on the ones he couldn’t. Slowing to a stop in front of Malon and Mario, he felt distinctly proud of himself for not crashing.

Malon jumped up from where she was sitting, clapping happily as she bounced over to hug him.

“You didn’t crash that time!” She grinned. “You’re getting better!”

‘I am,’ Link grinned back, a group of bees set loose in his chest alongside the happiness.

“You’re-a doing so much better! Now, let’s-a maybe think about getting better with the jumps, hm?” Mario clapped as he approached.

Link nodded, signing his response slowly. Mario knew Mushroom Kingdom Sign, but not Hylian Sign, and the two had some differences. This meant communication was slow going, which was partly why Malon was there.

They spent a few more hours, and a lot more crashing, practicing the jumps. Apparently there were a lot of jumps in these races.

By the time they decided to take a break for lunch, Link was covered in bruises but could also reasonably be trusted to not crash every time he attempted a jump, which was much better than he was when they started.

“Oh my! What happened to you?” Peach gasped, looking over the group as they arrived to join the queen and the rest of the family for lunch.

‘Learned the jumps,’ Link signed at her, grinning maybe a bit wider than he needed to.

“The bruises were self-inflicted,” Malon told everyone, dragging Link over to sit between Talon and Rosalina with her. “He’s gotten very good at crashing. And at not crashing, but that skill’s taking longer,”

Rosalina started giggling. “Well, it seems we all have a type,”

Link looked at her in confusion while he let Malon set up plates for them.

“What do you mean?” Peach asked.

Rosalina pointed at her mother. “You married dad, who is prone to extreme spots. And turns sports that aren’t extreme sports into extreme sports. I have never seen someone make golf a full contact sport other than him,” she turned her finger to Malon. “Malon has brought home a boy who is firstly more than willing to participate in said extreme sports, and, Mal you said he works for your Queen, right?”

Malon nodded. “He’s technically part of the royal guard, but really he’s just sent out to go deal with monsters when Her Majesty can’t do it herself. He comes back bleeding a lot,” she sent him a halfhearted glare. He smiled innocently in response.

“Right,” Rosalina nodded. “He’s prone to come back bleeding. And the last time I saw Sammy, she was also bleeding and bruised because she got in a fight with a robot that nearly kicked her, erm, butt,” she cleared her throat and paused until she got a nod from her mother, then continued. “Right, so, my point is we have a type, and it’s the same one,”

“And that type is?” Malon asked.

“People who are prone to getting hurt,”

Link felt mildly like he should be offended by that, but Malon was just nodding along so he decided to drop it. It wasn’t like he could argue, after all.

“Oh, is your girlfriend coming?” Malon asked, handing Link a plate but focusing on her sister.

Link didn’t know what some of the things on his plate were, and lightly poked at one of the mushrooms. This is why he decided to let Malon grab food for him.

“She should be, she told me she’d try at least,” Rosalina nodded. “But, well, you know how busy she can be sometimes. Her job doesn’t allow her a lot of free time,”

Malon nodded. “I get that. It can be hard dating someone who spends so much time away getting in fights,”

She gave Link a side eye and he paused halfway into a bite. Was she mad at him? Or was this one of those joking jab things? He couldn’t quite tell the difference yet. She didn’t seem like she was mad at him. Maybe she was trying to relate to her sister? Wait, what did her sister’s girlfriend do that he’d be a comparison?

He figured he’d ask.

Apparently Sammy was a mercenary (“She fights things for money,” Malon told him. “Kind of like you do, but you work for the Queen and she works for herself,”), and that meant she spent a lot of time away and then coming back injured. Like Link did.

“You’d probably get along with her really well,” Malon offered, subtly adding more of the thing he’d already cleared off his plate to his portion. “You can bond over killing things and getting hurt and worrying your girlfriends about the fact that you’re out killing things and getting hurt all alone,”

Link frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn’t even argue, she was right. He did spend a lot of time killing things and getting hurt and worrying her, and he did do most of it alone.

That thought sort of made his chest ache. He wouldn’t be alone if he still had Navi, but he hadn’t been able to find her yet. He didn’t want to sour the atmosphere though, so he pushed that thought to the side and shoved Malon’s shoulder in retaliation.

Malon shoved him back, laughing, and Link didn’t bother fighting the grin on his face. It was moments like this that made the trauma and the longing easier to deal with.

They spent some more time practicing the jumps for the race Link had gotten himself roped into and introducing him to the ‘power ups’, and then wandered around the festival grounds until dinner, where they retired to the castle. Link found out quickly that the power ups were made with people way more durable than him in mind. A conversation started about finding an item or something that might help protect him a bit.

Malon had pulled out a health potion she insisted Link drink to heal up the bruises he’d acquired when they heard the, whirring? Link didn’t know what to make of that sound, but he did know he should figure it out.

Which is how Link ended up carefully crossing the entryway of the castle, eyes on the front door, Malon frustrated and following behind him.

Rosalina came barrelling down a stairwell just as Link got to the door, startling him.

“Don’t mind Link,” Malon rolled her eyes. “He’s just never heard the sound of a ship landing before,”

Ship?

“So that was her ship I saw!” Rosalina pushed past Link, who made a strangled noise as she did, and ran out the door.

Link followed, hand on his sword, just in case, and froze.

Someone was standing on the bridge to the castle, wearing dark orange armor and standing easily as tall as a gerudo, maybe taller. Link couldn’t make out much more from that, since the armor covered them head to toe, and their helmet covered their entire head and face. It also looked shinier than any armor he’d ever seen before.

This person caught Rosalina when she threw herself at them, lifting her up and spinning them both around. A sort of mechanical laugh came from the armored person.

Link turned to Malon.

“That’s Samus, Rosy’s girlfriend,” Malon explained. “Come on, let’s go say hi!”

Malon headed down the bridge to where Samus had set Rosalina down. Link stayed where he was, the Luma that followed Rosalina around coming up to float next to him. Luma yawned, and Link offered it a small smile. They must have been getting ready for bed when Samus arrived.

“Link!” He turned at Malon’s shout, seeing her wave at him. “Come meet Samus!”

Samus had pulled off her helmet, revealing tied back blonde hair and pale skin. So, not gerudo, just tall.

He offered Luma a sympathetic shrug and wandered over.

“Link, this is Samus,” Malon waved between them as Link came up. “Samus, this is my boyfriend, Link. He’s mute, so he speaks using sign, but he can hear you just fine,”

“Hello, Link,” Samus offered him a smile, signing in very choppy Hylian Sign as she spoke, and then offered her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,”

Link signed slowly as he replied, figuring Samus might appreciate it, and then accepted her handshake.

They didn’t stay standing there for long since it was already getting quite dark. Link offered to help Samus move in some of her things, since she was apparently staying for a few weeks between jobs, which is how he found himself pulling on his golden gauntlets to pick up a very heavy suitcase to carry inside. Samus had the other very heavy case, and Malon and Rosalina helped carry in the rest of it.

Once Samus was settled Malon resumed her crusade to get Link to drink the rest of the health potion.

(---)

The next time Link ran into Samus was right before his race. They hadn’t found something to help with the power ups yet, though he did receive a racing suit to wear in case he crashed.

He stopped mid-sign as something heavy dropped round his neck.

He turned to look down at the item, some kind of medallion on a chain. There was some kind of bird on it, and some kind of writing he couldn’t read, though he didn’t expect to be able to. It didn’t feel magical, but it did sort of, hum in his hands.

He turned around to blink up at the person who dropped in on him. Which turned out to be Samus.

She wasn’t wearing the armor, instead wearing just a skin-tight blue outfit that showed off her abs and the muscles in her arms. She had a lot of muscle. Link started doubting his conclusion that she wasn’t somehow part gerudo.

“I heard you were worried about being durable enough to compete,” Samus explained when Link made a confused motion at the medallion. “That should help,”

‘How?’ Link asked.

“It’s an old bit of tech I picked up but haven’t needed in a long while,” Samus explained.

Link spent a moment finger spelling out that word and trying to remember where he heard it before.

“It’s like magic, but not magic,” Rosalina appeared to lean behind Samus, who towered over her even when she was standing straight. “Sammy you need to remember they don’t even have video screens in Hyrule, you’re going to confuse him,”

“Oh,” Samus blinked, looking between them. “Uh, sorry,”

Link waved her off and assured her it was fine, and then asked for more clarification on the item she just gave him.

“I figured it would solve your durability issue,” Samus explained. “For the race,”

Link nodded, turning it over in his hands for a minute. He tucked it under the suit, the metal oddly warm despite having only just put it on, and thanked Samus for the help.

She promised to be cheering him on, which was met by a huff and light shove from Rosalina, who was also racing.

The medallion did help. It didn’t quite put him on par with the native residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, but it did keep him from getting seriously hurt by some of the more extreme power ups.

Seriously, some of them were just insane.

He didn’t win, but he did come about middle of the pack, which he was quite proud of.

Samus let him keep the medallion, since he could probably get more use out of it than she would, and then Rosalina dragged them all out to get some star pastries to celebrate the fact she won.

Samus ended up far more confident in her Hylian Sign by the end of the day, mostly due to her and Link being dragged about the faire by their girlfriends as they competed in a few minigames. Samus had asked for some help practicing when she noticed Link was a bit uncomfortable with some of the minigames.

Link decided he liked Samus.

He especially liked it when their girlfriends got back and Rosalina had fake-whispered to Malon “Oh no, they’re teaming up!” and all four of them started laughing.

They stayed for a week, the length of the carnival, but they did have to get back to Hyrule. It didn’t help that Sheik had likely tried dealing with everything himself, and as such the kingdom had to deal with the Queen slipping out to fight things.

Once they’d said goodbye, with promises to write between Malon and her family, they climbed back into the little carriage thing they’d arrived in and Link turned to Malon immediately.

‘You’ll bring me with you next time too, right?’

Malon laughed, and agreed to bring him with the next time they were invited.

Neither of them had fully expected Link to get a letter a few weeks after they got home, but sure enough, it was his name written in the alphabet used by the Mushroom Kingdom.

It was decided that they should probably teach him how to read that alphabet after that.

The small package he received from Rosalina a few years later with her and Malon’s grandmother’s engagement ring after he’d proposed with a little note that the ring he’d found was way too flashy was probably to be expected. Even he and Malon had agreed on that the day before. They did switch out the rings, and though the old Queen’s ring was still a bit fancy for a farm girl, it wasn’t going to accidentally blind someone.

He figured he’d pass off Queen Peach’s offer to plan their wedding to Zelda, who had also already decided she wanted to plan it.

Let people who actually knew what they were doing plan it, he’d focus on making sure he was mostly uninjured come the day of. He’d just help with the invitation list.

This, he learned later, was a very smart call.

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sky-berrie · 3 years

Text

Goodnight - Damian

Summary: Damian pays you a visit at night ft. the one bed trope.

It was a typical eerie night in Gotham and as usual, you spent it alone in your room. You were completely engrossed in the murder documentary streaming on your laptop, the game of Tetris on your cell phone, and the barbeque potato chips you were shoving into your mouth. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you jumped right out of your seat and yelped when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Relax, Y/N,” said Damian, casually. “It is only me.” He was dressed in his Robin uniform. It was clean which meant that he was probably unharmed.

You scowled at him as your felt your heart beat wildly against your ribcage. Your eyes traveled to the open window. You were certain that you had secured the latch, added the anti-lift bar and activated the alarm not twenty minutes ago. Your newfound interest in murder mysteries kept you awake a night, so you amped up your security to give yourself some peace of mind. It should have been impossible for anyone to break in, but here Damian was, standing inside your apartment bedroom.

“Stop abusing your power like that,” you scolded.

“Stop leaving yourself vulnerable,” he countered, without missing a beat.

“I didn’t! Did you not see the steel bar and alarm?” you said with indignation. You had to wonder how he managed to slip in. In another life, he could be a magician, you thought.

“Indeed, I did notice,” he said. “It is quite the cute little system you have.” His smirk was as condescending as ever.

You rolled your eyes and huffed. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting a big reaction out of you.

Damian’s expression softened. “I am glad that you installed that, though. Now I do not have to worry so much about you when I am away.”

You had no idea how to formulate a response to a comment that was not an insult or sarcasm. You awkwardly changed the subject instead, “So… you need something or…?”

Damian looked at you expectantly as if he was waiting for you to continue. “Do not end your sentence with a conjunction,” he chastised you. “Proper grammar is imperative for effective communication.” You rolled your eyes again. Sometimes he was insufferable.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said. And sometimes he was almost sweet.

His gloved finger gently tipped your face upwards so he could inspect it thoroughly. You found his concern rather considerate until he opened his mouth again. Damian’s face contorted into an expression of disgust before he said, “You are beginning to look like Drake.” Although Tim was very attractive, you knew how Damian felt about his adoptive brother. His statement was not to be mistaken as a compliment.

You pulled away and rolled your eyes again. “Got it. You came here to annoy me. Mission accomplished. You ready to leave now?” You pointed to the window.

“I am being serious, Y/N, you look unwell…” He looked around your desk space with a horrified expression. “And I can see why. When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh,” you blew a raspberry as you thought about it. “Yester…today?” you said, but it came out as a question. Damian looked unimpressed. “No, today. Definitely today,” you stated with more confidence.

You could tell Damian didn’t buy it. “What day is it today?” he challenged.

Your eyes roamed around the room in search of clues. The date and time weren’t visible on your electronics. You took a stab in the dark. “Saturday.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “It is Sunday night.”

“Oh…” you pursed your lips sheepishly. Sometimes the days blurred together.

“That is it,” he said with finality. He closed your laptop. “You are banned from watching murder mysteries videos at night.” He went for your phone next. He raised it up for you to see your game of Tetris disappearing as he powered it off. “I am confiscating your phone every evening from now on.”

“What?” you whined, lunging out for your phone. Damian tucked it away and out of reach in the inner pocket of his uniform.

“You are getting time limits. Blue light disrupts your circadian rhythm - no laptop or phone after 10 pm.” He grabbed the crinkly chip bag. “And these, well, you really should not eat these ever. Do you know how much sodium is in this bag? Your arteries will know.” He tossed the half-empty bag into the trash can beside your desk.

“No!” You protested. He had no right to order you around.

“Yes,” he asserted. You watched him fluff up your pillows, tuck the sheets firmly under the mattress, and smooth out the bed spread. “You are going to bed now. Get in.” He lifted the covers for you.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckled humourlessly. You just wanted to finish watching the unsolved mystery of the Gruesome Gotham Murders of 1902 and be so terrified that you can’t sleep for the next three days.

“Y/N,” he said sternly, indicating that he wasn’t in the mood for an argument.

“Fine,” you grumbled. You knew Damian was stubborn and wouldn’t take no for an answer. You figured that you would get in bed to appease him and get rid of him, then you could resume watching your video.

You stomped extra loudly across your room to make a point. You huffed loudly as you crawled into bed. He pulled the covers up to your chin and tucked you in as if you were a little kid.

“Good night,” said Damian.

“Yeah, bye,” you replied impatiently.

Your eyes following Damian as he flicked off your lamp. Once your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized that Damian was taking off his Robin uniform. He stripped down to his undershirt and hung the tunic over the back of your chair before sitting down. “What are you doing?” you asked, raising yourself up on your forearms.

“I am going to stay,” he said, like it was the most normal sentence in the entire world.

“Um, come again?”

“I know you are afraid to go to sleep, so I will stay and make sure you feel safe… even though it is self inflicted fear and I ought to leave you so you learn your lesson. I do not know why you insist on watching murder mysteries knowing that you are going to be frightened.”

“While that’s a very nice offer, it’s also super unnecessary. I’m okay,” you lied. You couldn’t let him stay overnight in your chair just because you had an overactive imagination.

Damian raised a hand to silence your argument. “It is not up for debate. I will stay right here and you will get some sleep.”

“But you need to sleep, too,” you reasoned.

Damian shrugged. “I will make do here.”

Your throat was suddenly dry as you prepared to make a compromise. “You could… sleep… here… in my bed?” You prayed that he wasn’t repulsed by your invitation to share your bed. You and Damian were just friends but somewhere along the way your feelings changed. You caught yourself noticing things about him that you found attractive… like the way his eyes were so expressive and always told you what he was thinking… or how he carried himself with strength and confidence, even if it could be annoying sometimes.

You held your breath in anticipation. The last thing you wanted was to scare him off. “Okay,” he casually accepted. While you were relieved that he wasn’t mortified by the thought of sharing your bed, you were a nervous wreck now.

You shuffled over to the very edge of your twin sized bed to make room for Damian. As he lay down, the side of his warm arm brushed against yours. You skittishly scooted away but tumbled out of bed.

Damian peered over the edge of the bed and his brows knit together in confusion. “What on earth are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly to sound normal. You tittered nervously as you climbed back under the covers. This time you lay on your side and faced away from him to put some distance between you two and to hide your embarrassment.

“Come closer, Y/N. I do not want you to fall off again.”

You shifted infinitesimally closer.

“Closer,” instructed Damian.

You inched towards him but left a good distance separating you two.

“There’s plenty of space here,” he encouraged.

You quickly came up with an excuse. “I toss and turn in my sleep. I don’t want to hurt you by accident.”

Damian let out a hearty laugh.

“What?” you asked with indignance. You rolled over onto your back so you could see him.

“Nothing,” he denied, stifling his mirth.

“Tell me,” you demanded.

“The thought of you, in your footie pajamas, thinking that you could injure a highly skilled assassin, is quite comical. Don’t flatter yourself. Now, come here and go to sleep.” Damian patted the empty space beside him.

This time you listened and moved towards the centre of the bed. You were so close to Damian that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. The warmth was drawing you even closer to him but you reprimanded yourself and forced yourself to remain eerily still to avoid another accidental contact. Damian turned his head and you felt his eyes on you. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” you squeaked. You bit you lip anxiously. Your hand played with a loose thread on the blanket.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” you said, this time more confidently although you weren’t fooling him.

“You need not be afraid of the dark, Y/N, especially when I am here.”

You knew that already. You always felt safe when you were with Damian, even before you knew he was Robin. There was something comforting about his self-assurance that made situations less scary. But that’s not what was making you jittery.

“Why do you bother watching murder mysteries? They always overlook clues and never investigate thoroughly. Besides, you have a real detective right here,” Damian said, with a tone of umbrage.

You shrugged and tilted your head. “They’re fun,” was your simple answer.

Damian cocked an eyebrow. “Being so petrified that you cannot sleep alone is fun?”

“I don’t know. I guess I admire you for being Robin.” You don’t know why you said that. You really shouldn’t be feeding his ego. It’s big enough as it is. You kept talking, against your better judgement. “Watching you solve mysteries and fight for justice got me interested in true crime.”

Damian only hummed in response. He was quiet for a while and you thought that maybe he had drifted to off to sleep. Finally, he said, “Would you like to know who committed the Gruesome Gotham Murders of 1902?”

You gasped and turned on your side to face him. You were only a few inches away from him now, but you didn’t even register his proximity. Your anxiety was long forgotten and replaced by curiosity. “You know who did it?”

“Of course,” he confirmed.

“How?” you breathed with skepticism. The case had been undertaken by several of the most high-profile detectives and private investigators over the decades and none were able to solve it. In fact, no new leads had been uncovered in the last eighty years.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Batman and Robin are, without a doubt, the best detective duo in history. Not to mention, that case was child’s play.”

You scoffed. “I don’t believe you. Show me some proof,” you said, calling his bluff.

“Very well, then. I will show you the file the next time you visit the manor.”

“If you’ve solved it, why don’t you tell the authorities then?”

“We have. It is connected to several active cases so the GCPD is not able to release any information to the public yet.”

You scrutinized his face, looking for any signs of a fib. He didn’t waver under your intense stare, but then again, he was accustomed to the batglare so your measly glare was probably ineffective. You decided to trust him. “Who did it?”

Damian turned on his side as well and propped up his head with his arm so that he could look down at you. He pretended to think about it, building up the suspense. “If you go to sleep now, I’ll tell you tomorrow morning,” he said, almost playfully.

“What?” you exclaimed.

“Better get to sleep right away,” he warned.

You couldn’t believe he would tease you like this. There was no way you’d be able to sleep knowing that the answer to the city’s most enigmatic mystery was lying right beside you. You huffed angrily and flopped back down onto your mattress.

Damian let out a deep laugh in response. You grabbed a spare pillow and tried to whack him, but he anticipated your attack and caught it. “Damian Wayne, you are the absolute worst.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #batboys imagine #batboys #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #robinchicklets

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Late in the Night | Part Three

Previous part

Prompt: There’s only one bed (Content Challenge Day 6)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG

Word count: 1914

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

A/n Happy Day 6 of my content challenge! If you like my account, chances are you’ll love the accounts mentioned above! Check them out if you can :) If you want more, you can find the challenge’s masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, happy reading!

The tavern is warm and a welcome escape from the evening chill. Occupying the common room is a small, though lively, crowd, including Gimli and Boromir, who sit in plushy chairs drinking mead by the fire. The barman eyes the newcomers with a measure of surprise — it’s his second unusual guest of the night. Though the woman is predictably human, the one standing next to her is clearly an elf. The barman marvels at his luck, knowing he will be the talk of the town if he can compile some interesting stories about the elf and the dwarf he met this eve.

The barman waves at the odd couple, and they come to the counter. The three exchange pleasantries, but Legolas and Y/n are careful to be vague about their travel plans. Even though the barman seems innocently curious, one can never be too cautious. The barman inquires about their needs.

“Meals for tonight and tomorrow morning, as well as two rooms — at least one with a fireplace if you’ve got it.” Legolas reaches under his cloak and produces a velvet pouch containing the human currency he brought for the journey.

The barman grimaces. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid there is only one room left. You see, we are a small establishment, and the guests that arrived shortly before you requested separate dwellings.”

With narrowed eyes, Legolas turns to regard a very satisfied-looking human and dwarf. Gimli raises his mug, winking at his elven friend.

“Did they, now,” Legolas murmurs, beginning to guess at his friend’s plan. At his side, he hears Y/n huff in disbelief, obviously having caught on.

To his credit, the barman seems genuinely apologetic. “Yes, I-I’m afraid so, sir. If you like, there is another inn on the other side of town, I could inquire about vacancies there—”

“No, thank you.” Legolas cuts him off, trying to soften his cold tone with a smile. He can’t risk the managers talking and comparing guests before he and his companions are long gone. “We will make do.”

The barman briefly disappears to find the key, and Y/n tries to study Legolas surreptitiously. Unfortunately, he seems to have the same idea about her, and their eyes dart away immediately upon meeting, knowing they’d each been caught.

How awkward.

The barman returns, sliding a smooth silver key into Legolas’ hand, who quickly pays the man. “Would it be too much trouble to have dinner delivered to our room?” Legolas swallows. Our room.

The barman responds favorably, but there is an unmistakable note of disappointment to his tone. No doubt he was looking forward to studying probably the only elf he’s ever seen.

Y/n sneaks a look over to Gimli, who is quite enjoying his mead, and figures that he will give the barman enough entertainment to last a few years.

The pair ascends the stairs, and Y/n notices a pink twinge to Legolas’ cheeks. He stumbles over his words, something quite unusual for him. “I—uh, did not mean to presume. I apologize.”

Y/n shrugs. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s our fault for not asking to arrive first, I guess,” Y/n tries for a laugh, but it’s impossible for Legolas to not notice how she won’t meet his eyes.

He stops on the landing, looking quite pained. He hates the idea of making her uncomfortable. “I will sleep on the floor.”

Y/n takes pity on the poor elf, and puts effort into seeming relaxed. “No, really, it’s okay. It’s no different from lying near each other when we camp, right?”

It is completely different, Legolas thinks, but decides not to share that comment.

They reach the door, and both try to will their nerves away as Legolas turns the key in the lock.

“Oh.” Y/n is pleasantly surprised by the state of the room. “It’s nice.”

Legolas has to agree. The bed—the sole bed—is off the ground and boasts an actual mattress, complete with two fluffy pillows and three blankets. There’s a fireplace, a water basin, a tin tub, two exceptionally large jugs of water, and a changing screen. The presence of these amenities constitutes luxury after their time in the wilderness.

Y/n crosses the threshold first, and Legolas chides his own cowardice. The battlefield gives no fear to him, but sharing a room with the woman he…

Well.

He forces himself to enter the room.

Y/n twists the hem of her tunic in her hands, trying desperately to get through the awkwardness. “Will it bother you if I have a bath?”

Legolas practically catapults himself forward, eager to have a task to busy his mind. “Not at all. I’ll heat the water.” He grabs one of the water-filled jugs, lays it on the grate inside the fireplace, and works to start a fire.

Y/n fiddles with the changing screen, dragging it slightly to the left so it completely shields the length of the tub. Even though the fire is properly kindled, Legolas stays near it, kneeled on the ground, eyes glued to the heating water.

Y/n chances a look at him, and the sight of him brings a small smile to her lips. He’s just so sweet. And though she would never say it out loud, Y/n admits to herself that, if she had to spend the night with any of her companions, Legolas would be her first and only choice.

Y/n busies herself with spot-cleaning their extra clothes until Legolas has the water heated and pours it in the bath.

Are his cheeks red from embarrassment or the heat, she wonders.

“I-I’ll stay near the bed and-and give you your privacy,” he stutters out, looking anywhere but at her.

Definitely embarrassment. Y/n bites back a smile, grabs her washing supplies, and slips behind the changing screen.

She undresses and slides into the water, sighing contentedly at her first encounter with warm water in weeks. Knowing it won’t last long, she works quickly to scrub the dirt from her skin.

Legolas sits on the edge of the bed, trying to distract himself by cleaning their weapons. He doesn’t know whether he should try and converse with her, or ignore her completely, or if he should just run from the room and never come back?

Valar, how this is difficult!

A knock sounds on the door.

“That was fast,” Y/n muses, to which Legolas hums in agreement.

He sheds his cloak and uses it to conceal the weapons, then meets the barman at the door to collect the dinner plates.

Legolas shuts the door with his foot and turns back towards the bed.

And freezes upon realizing the issue.

Y/n is still in the bath.

Legolas exhales, looking down at the plate in his right hand, then to the changing screen, then quickly to the opposite corner of the room, a blush coming to his cheeks once again.

He closes his eyes, drawing in a breath.

You are a prince, he reminds himself. You lead council meetings, command troops, and have the respect of an entire kingdom. Pull yourself together.

Before he can give himself a chance to lose his nerve, he turns on his heel, and marches towards the changing screen.

“Delivery, My Lady.”

The teasing tone in Legolas’ voice catches Y/n off guard, and she releases a startled laugh. He can’t be serious? But she sees the tips of his boots peeking under the edge of the wooden screen, and decides to play along, trusting him to keep his gaze respectful. “You may approach, Good Sir.”

Legolas peeks around the screen, presenting Y/n her plate of food and making a show of keeping his eyes closed.

Y/n giggles, for just a moment forgetting the awkwardness and the insurmountable pressure of the fate of the world on their shoulders. “Such service! Thank you.”

Legolas bows, and returns with his own food to his spot on the bed. As they eat, they trade stories of the time before they knew each other — Y/n being careful to edit any details that would give her non-Arda origins away. When the food is gone and the bathwater runs cold, Y/n dries, dresses in fresh clothing, and folds back the changing screen.

She and Legolas stare at each other, unsure how to proceed.

“Um, is there anything you needed to do before bed?”

“No.” Legolas shakes his head. “You?”

“No.” A pause. “Well, I guess we should go to sleep, unless you wanted a bath?”

“It’s alright, I washed in the stream earlier.”

Y/n shifts on her feet. “Oh. Right. You sure you don’t want something hot?”

Legolas smiles. “Temperature doesn’t affect ellyn the way it does humans.”

Y/n laughs softly at herself, using it as an opportunity to exhale some of the nerves. “Forgot….I’ll just get the candles, then.”

Legolas stands abruptly. “Let me.” Then, his panicked look fades into a teasing smile. “Humans already have terrible eyesight in the daytime, I fear for your safety if I let you stumble around in the dark.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Y/n laughs, crawling onto the side of the bed closest to her. The mattress probably isn’t the softest in the world, but it’s much better than the freezing ground. And the pillow and blankets are a nice touch. Y/n remembers her fluffy bed back home, and finds herself snuggling deeper into the covers, trying to recreate the memory.

The room goes dark, and moments later, Y/n feels the bed dip beside her.

Legolas slides under the covers wordlessly, keeping as far to the edge as he can. His mind runs a million miles a minute, wondering if he’s making her uncomfortable, noticing how nice her hair smells, thinking how he’s going to kill Boromir and Gimli for putting them in this position, and everything in between.

On the other side of the bed, Y/n stares at the wall, unable to calm down enough to sleep. Never in her life has she been so affected by someone else’s presence. It’s just a bed for Pete’s sake, she’s shared plenty of them before!

But she can feel his warmth from across the mattress, can picture how his chest would feel under her cheek, and fights the urge to cuddle in close to him.

Oh how she is going to murder Gimli and Boromir.

Time passes, neither of them knowing how much.

But after a while, Y/n gives voice to the more anxious thoughts in her head, unable to let them go.

“Are you awake?”

Legolas’ voice is soft, barely a whisper in the late night. “Yes.”

Silence, and Legolas wonders if Y/n has fallen asleep. But a few breaths later, she speaks again, this time, with a measure of fear in her voice.

“Do you think we can do it? Destroy the Ring?”

“We will.” His voice is confident, steady, just the reassurance she needs. “No matter the cost, we will see this Evil defeated.”

Y/n sighs, closing her eyes. She gives into the exhaustion in her bones, in her mind, and sinks into dreamless sleep. Legolas follows not long after, allowing himself only the briefest of looks at his slumbering companion. He holds the image of her peaceful face in his mind as he drifts off.

And if they do find themselves cuddled up in the morning, well, no one needs to know.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part four! Likes, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. Also, let me know if you would like a tag!

Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama

Next part

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fic-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Slight foreplay but not even

A/N: This is not at all somewhat loosely inspired by events happening in my everyday life...shut up.

You, Wanda, and Nat decided to have a girls night. In a team full of male ego’s, sometimes the testosterone got too strong to bear so you three called in a girls night. It wasn’t the typical slumber party vibes you had seen in the movies. Instead of makeovers and candy it was sparring and wine. The two weren’t exactly meant for each other but with enhanced individuals getting drunk was pretty much off the table anyway.

You were in the middle of throwing knives at Wanda, who was expertly dodging them, while Nat was going on about her latest mission with Clint.

“I mean it was fine but it wasn’t Budapest, you know?” She complained between reps. You chuckled under your breath and Nat clocked it. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just, I may have made a tiny little drinking game.” You explained, going over to the wine bottles and taking a swig to emphasize your point. “Every time you bring up Budapest I take a drink.”

“I don’t bring it up that much.” She fired back.

Wanda gave her a pointed look, not even having to open her mouth to say where she stood on the matter.

“Fine,” Nat began, “if you guys have to drink when I mention Budapest then I get to drink when Y/N talks about Loki.”

You instantly regretted bringing up the drinking game. You coughed a bit as wine got caught in the wrong pipe. “I do NOT talk about him that much.” All it took was another pointed look from Wanda to know that that was complete and utter bullshit.

“Yeah but that’s different because I’m not in a relationship with Loki.”

“But you want to be.” Wanda noted, taking the wine bottle from your hands and drinking a long pull, winking at you as she did.

“Whether I want it or not is irrelevant.” You insisted, suddenly wishing you could steer the conversation into literally any other direction.

“And why is that?” Nat asked, coming over to where you and Wanda stood and arching a crimson eyebrow at you.

“Because, Loki is, he’s…”

“Bad news.” Wanda offered at the same time Nat said “Trouble.”

“Exactly.” You confirmed. “So whatever feelings I may or may not have will promptly be shoved down into the very darkest corner of my mind until they simply cease to exist.”

“How has that worked for you in the past?” Nat inquired.

“It’s worked out just fine, thank you very much.”

“And how many relationships have you been in?” Wanda questioned.

“None.” You replied automatically. “Fuck.”

Sensing your not-so-inner turmoil Wanda gave you back the bottle of wine which you proceeded to polish off.

“He doesn’t even pay attention to me anyway.” You tried to justify to them.

“Didn’t you guys talk for like two hours last Wednesday?” Wanda pointed out.

“Yeah, we did, it was actually a really nice conversation.” You recalled.

You had been sitting in the library reading when Loki walked in, looking stunning in what he considered to be casual clothes, which had been laughable. While his forest green tunic and tailored black pants had certainly been a step down from his battle armor, it was a far cry from casual, at least by mortal standards.

He had asked what book you were reading which then led to a discussion about the different types of Midardian literature and the crossovers with Asgardian books. And that had lent itself to him offering to give you some Asgardian books so you could see if you liked them or not. True to his word, later that night you found a stack of four books sitting outside your door with a note from Loki telling you that he had enchanted them to automatically translate from Asgardian to English.

“So...how can you say he doesn’t pay attention to you?” Nat asked, rolling her eyes as if you were oblivious to the attention he had given you. Which, of course, you weren’t. You had finished two of the books already and were chomping at the bit to tell Loki what you thought of them. But there was only one problem.

“He hasn’t spoken to me since.” You confessed, feeling suddenly very small and stupid.

“That doesn’t make sense...not even a word?” Wanda asked, so gently you thought your heart would shatter.

“But see, it does make sense. Because this is what he does. He’ll talk to me and make me feel like I’m the only person in the world and then he’ll fuck off for God knows how long and swoop in just as I’m giving up hope that he’ll ever speak to me again. He has me on his hook and he knows it. But none of that even matters.”

“Because you’re shoving your feelings down?” Nat offered.

“Yes, and because he has a girlfriend.” You said, feeling your heart sink as the weight of your words hit you. It’s not like you had expected anything to happen between you two but him being in a relationship was like closing a door you never expected to be open to you to begin with. It hurt and you hated to admit that it hurt and you hated him for making it hurt.

“Yeah, I had heard Thor talking about Loki and Sygn earlier. How do you feel?” Wanda asked, handing you another bottle of wine.

“Fine, I feel fine. I literally couldn’t care less.” You lied as you pried the cork out of the bottle and drank a good portion before giving it to Nat. “Okay, enough about me, let’s hear about everyone else.”

And that was that. For the next few months Loki kept up his sporadic contact with you but he had a girlfriend and you weren’t about to make an even bigger fool of yourself than you probably already had. So you stopped expecting him to talk to you. Stopped sitting straighter when he walked into a room and stopped being disappointed when he didn’t notice you.

Four months after your girls night with Nat and Wanda there was a Friday night get together with the whole team, Tony’s idea. He said it would be good for bonding. You had gotten the text when you were on your way back from a date. Nothing much, just a casual meet up in Central Park, nothing to write home about. She was fine. A pretty blonde with soft brown eyes and a good laugh but that was it. She was fine. She wasn’t what you were looking for, who you were looking for. As soon as the thought entered your head you promptly shoved it away. He was taken and you just needed to go on a date with someone different that was all.

You looked at your appearance in the elevator mirror on the ride up. You considered changing out of your light blue floral sundress before the gathering with the team but it appeared it wasn’t meant to be as you could already hear voices bleeding through the doors before they opened.

You walked out to a mock whistle from Sam which made you dip into a mock bow before you made your way to the kitchen island and fixed yourself a drink.

“That bad?” Nat smiled as you took a swig of the gin and tonic.

“It was fine.” You replied, shrugging. “I have another tomorrow so we’ll see.”

“Another what?” Thor called from the couch, his hand around a glass of amber liquid that you suspected was something much stronger than scotch.

“Another date!” Nat called out in reply, smiling encouragingly at you.

“Was the one today not satisfactory?” Thor questioned.

You rolled your eyes, “it was Fine. Honestly both of you it was fine.”

“Don’t worry doll, you’re not the only one in the dating game.” Bucky said from the fridge, grabbing himself another beer.

“Bucky, if you’re about to tell me that you and Steve broke up I will believe that love is truly dead.”

“Not us doll.” He shook his head and tried and failed to hide his amusement.

“Then who?” You were very confused and nobody was making things any easier on you.

“Me.” The voice came from behind you and it chilled you to the bone. You turned to find Loki leaning against the wall fixing the cufflinks on his black suit. His demeanor showed a complete lack of interest but the way his emerald eyes held you in place had a predatory grace that both excited and scared you.

Loki had been gone for a month on a diplomatic mission and you had heard nothing from him in the meantime. It had been so easy to put him out of your mind, but now you wondered how you could have thought of anything but him.

“Oh.” Was all you could bring yourself to say. As your heart sped up to a gallop and heat flooded through your body at the way he was looking at you. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that, he had just said he broke up with his girlfriend. You shouldn’t want him to be looking at you like that, you had moved on, hadn’t you? Apparently your body hadn’t gotten the message from your head yet, stupid body.

One hour and two drinks later you were all sitting around the large kitchen table, each absorbed in their own conversations. You were talking to Tony and Bruce and Loki was in a conversation with his brother but he was only half listening. The other part of him kept sneaking glances at you and you could feel his eyes on your body like a physical touch. After you caught his eye one too many times you excused yourself to the bathroom. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

You didn’t need this selective attention bullshit again. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t stand spending hours talking to each other one day only for him to not speak to you for days on end after. No, you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and resolved yourself to go back out there and not care. Not to feel his glances on you, not to acknowledge his presence, not to speak to him or play into his games like a fool. Because you weren’t a fool. Pep talk done, you unlocked the door and walked straight into a wall of black.

You startled and tried to push yourself away only to feel slender arms wrap around your waist and legs walk you back into the bathroom. You managed a few paces back and found yourself looking into Loki’s eyes. They really were the most magnificent shade of green. Damnit.

“Loki, what are you doing here?” You asked, still too stunned to wonder why he backed you into the bathroom.

“I’ve been gone for a month and that’s the question you ask me?” He leaned against the door, folded his arms over his chest, and crossed one slender leg over the other. Fuck him for being so attractive right now.

“You don’t get to do that.” You stated, leafing through your emotions until you found one that suited you, anger. You were angry with him for having you on his hook, angry with him for his sense of entitlement, and angry with him for being attractive. To be fair, the last one wasn’t really his fault.

“Do what?” He asked, like he really didn’t know what he was doing.

“You don’t get to go literal months without speaking to me and then demand why I’m not talking to you when you’ve been back all of two hours.”

“Actually I got home last week.” He replied coolly, pushing off of the door and taking a step closer to you. You rebuffed his advance by taking a step backwards.

“Thank you for proving my point to me.”

“What point?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” You chided. “You’ve been home a week now, haven’t sought me out at all in that time mind you, but now you’re upset that I didn’t speak to you?”

“I broke up with Sygn.” He said, taking another step towards you, and you took one back in kind.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ve missed you.” He crooned, advancing towards you until your back was forced against the counter top.

“And what, exactly, have you missed?” You replied hotly. “Ignoring me until the last possible moment? Making me look pathetic for wanting even a scrap of your attention?”

He took his thumb and index finger, placed them on your chin, and tilted it up at the same time he lowered his head to your shoulder.

“Come now darling, I don’t think you’re pathetic.” He breathed into the crook of your neck. Your pulse skyrocketed as your breath hitched and you let out a whimper. Your nails dug into the marble counter in an effort to keep from touching him the way you wanted. To keep from running your fingers through his thick black locks.

“Loki, I can’t do this.” You pleaded in a whisper even as his hands came to settle on your waist, even as he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter top and stood squarely between your legs, making your dress ride up to your mid thighs.

“Can’t do what?” He questioned, placing feather light kisses along the column of your throat as his hands moved slowly up your newly exposed thighs.

You tried to steady yourself even as you felt the throbbing need between your legs and his own need pressed against you.

“Being near you is like playing with fire, and pretty soon I’m going to get burned.” You huffed, caught between wanting him to stop and wanting him to continue, oh please God continue.

“Oh pet, haven’t you heard?” He questioned, bringing his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “I’ve more an affinity for ice.”

#loki x reader #mcu fanfic #loki x you #loki fanfic #does this mean my hiatus is over #maybe #reader insert fanfic #loki mcu

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bosmermage · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 6

Touch and Go (Bruises, Touch Starved) Characters: Green, Blue, Grandpa Smith, Vio

But they didn't notice. Well. That was a lie. Blue noticed. But Blue noticed everything.

They should have known something was wrong when the bruises started to appear. They littered up and down his arms and legs like freckles, peeking out in the evenings from under his nightgown. But, after all, he had been training harder and a few extra bruises were hardly anything to pay any mind to.

They should have known something was wrong when his tunics seemed to get a little snug and then suddenly too loose again. He was so busy though, always running around. Everyone brushed it off as a natural consequence of being a knight. He'd surely gain it all back on his summer break, right?

They should have known something was wrong when, on quiet nights when everyone else slept soundly, they would find him in the morning curled around his pillow like a life line.

But they didn't notice. Well. That was a lie. Blue noticed. But Blue noticed everything. He noticed how Red would get careless with the cooking fire on rough weeks, always seeming to be nursing some sort of burn. He noticed how Vio's eye bags were slowly creeping across his face, and his hair was becoming unkempt and long from his many study sessions littered through the week.

He noticed how Red had become so close with the princess, and how his hair had begun to shift to match hers and how he spent more and more time at the palace. How excited the king was to have a son. He noticed how Link's father doted on him for things he didn't think were all that impressive, with the air of expectation that he should eventually “come home” from Grandpa's house. He noticed how Vio withdrew from society, preferring the company of the minish, eventually even retreating so far that the only time he saw the others was for weekends.

Not that Grandpa seemed to mind too much. He noticed too.

He noticed how Link's father hardly ever spared a second glance to Green. And he noticed how Green put everything he had into his facade of normality and cheerfulness and left nothing over for himself. And he noticed how Green really didn't seem to spend much time with anyone, always busy, or kept home with studies. Hollow eyed and doll-like when he did move his ass to hang out. Always preforming perfection.

And it frustrated him.

The strain on their friendship was intense, they were constantly snipping at each other. Well, Blue had started it but he sure as hell wasn't going to finish it. Green, patently (stupidly), refused to ask for help. He wouldn't bend his dumb-ass pride for a single second to reach out or even just vocalize that there was anything wrong to begin with. It had been hard for Blue too but you didn't see him moping about it! So if he wanted to be a big baby about whatever the fuck was making him so unhappy than that was fine by Blue. He was too busy dealing with his own shit to play mind reading games with the miserable crew.

Of course, it did all eventually come to a head. It came to a head on a mid-july day when he came home to find Green curled up in bed, clutching at his pillow with his face buried in it like it was his girlfriend or something.

“Hey would you quit that it's gross,” Blue stuck his tongue out at the dozing figure. Green mumbled into the pillow in response and Blue rolled his eyes.

“I said cut it out geeze Green,” Blue snatched the pillow away and Green contracted into himself.

“Hey, give that back, I was trying to take a nap,” Green reached up pitifully and Blue held the pillow away.

“Why do you even do that Green, it's fucking nasty, why not just go get a plushie like a normal person?”

“Shut up Blue it's none of your business.” Green pouted at him “And anyways that's mine so give it back already.” Finally Green got up to his feet.

“What's the big deal anyways? Huh? It's just a stupid pillow, you have two of em.”

“Just leave me alone! What have I ever done to you??” Green swiped for the pillow again and Blue rolled his eyes at the display.

“Stop being such a baby!”

“If it's just a pillow then why not leave it be?” Vio's voice cut in from the doorway, heartless as ever. Blue didn't have to turn around to know that the stupid prick was glaring at him with his little hypocritical holier than thou act plastered all over his face.

“Shut the fuck up Vio like you know so much about precious things.” Blue barely got the words out before Green was stomping on his foot. He let out a yelp and dropped the pillow that was promptly snatched up by the other colour. He noticed the tears threatening to spill down his face, and the way he shook while he clutched the dumb fucking pillow to his chest.

“Okay, what the fuck ever,” Blue threw his hands up and stalked out of the room, determined to go do something, anything, else to get his mind off it.

“Hey, are you okay Greenie?” Vio's voice was soft and even as he came closer, very practiced, and Green nodded through the panic welling up in his chest, winding him like a spring.

“I'm fine, I just, I want to sleep,” Green sighed, and Vio searched him with his gaze. He hated how perceptive their violet counterpart was at times. He knew he shouldn't be standing there lying like a hypocrite, and he knew Vio knew, but if Vio kept standing there the panic was going to bubble out into the world and then he would have to pick up the pieces.

Vio, blessedly, nodded, moving out of the room and Green let out a shaking sigh as the tears began to pour out of his eyes, in pain, and embarrassment at the way Blue had dragged his childishness out of him like that. He curled back into his bed, pulling the cover up over his head and letting the tears flow freely. He hated how pathetic he felt, how poor of a substitute his pillow was for a real hug. But it'd have to do, after all it's not like any of the others wanted to hug him, and why would they? He was the most boring colour after all. The ugliest. The others were like flowers and he was like dirt. Something necessary sure, but plain, only begrudgingly accepted. Never anyone's first choice. He was glad he couldn't hear yelling, he didn't want to have to drag himself out of bed to break up yet another disagreement gone nasty between the two others.

He didn't hear Grandpa enter the room and when the man sat on his bedside he jumped so hard he smacked into the bottom of Blue's bunk, flinging himself back and hissing in pain as he settled into a crouch, ready to pounce. What a sight he must have been, squinting through the pain, tears dripping down his cheeks, hissing like a frightened animal at his own grandfather. He blinked through the remaining tears and settled down on his knees, ears drooping shamefully at his shoulders.

“Hey there sweet-pea, I didn't mean to frighten you,” the words stained Green's cheeks a burning shade of red and he nodded into his lap, mortified, But Grandpa's face settled into a mask of gentle determination. Grandpa snapped his fingers and Green refocused on his hands, brought out of the downward spiral of his mood by the action/

“Vio told me you and Blue had a fight. Do you want to tell me your side of it?” Grandpa's sign was gentle and soothing, but it still sent a spike of fear through Green's stomach. He nodded dutifully, and took a deep breath to steady his shot nerves back into alignment.

“I was trying to take a nap since it's my day off and then Blue came in to pick a fight, and I.. he got me riled up cause he stole my pillow and wouldn't give it back. I know it was childish but I got angry at him and made him give it back. I'll go apologize.” Green's eyes flicked down, sign nearly as frantic as the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Grandpa's hands stilled his own and his world narrowed down to the point of contact, he had to bite back the tears again when he pulled away to speak.

“Green, I'm glad you're being mature about this, but I'm not upset with you for being “childish”. You're still a kid, remember? I just want to help you two work it out,” Grandpa scootched closer and Green paused.

“Honestly? I usually forget,” the words slipping between his fingers like a gust of wind before he could stop them, eyes going wide with shock enough to match the sorrow that glinted in Grandpa's eyes. “I mean, it's just. I'm expected to be the Hero and keep everyone working together all the time and be the leader and be mature and just deal with it and not let anyone see weakness. It's just, it's hard to not work like that all the time.” His foot was already in his mouth, might as well get it off his chest. He sighed again, shoulders rising up to his ears.

“I'm sorry, it's just really hard and I don't want to let anyone down,” he was wiping away tears again. All he really wanted was a hug.

Grandpa shifted closer again and Green fought down the urge to collapse into his chest, “Oh sweet pea why would you think that?”

“It's just, everyone else gets to fall down and need help, and drop out and leave the public eye and be themselves. But I have the same favourite colour as Link so everyone expects me to be him and act like him and be the hero and be the leader. I don't want to ask the others for help 'cause I'm the one they all come to when they need help, and, I don't want to ask father 'cause he always looks so sad when he sees me, and I don't want to ask anyone else 'cause I don't want to burden them when they all have so much on their plates already and I don't want to be selfish but I don't know what to do anymore.” Green rambled on as everything he'd been damming back flooded out. Grandpa brushed the bangs out of his tears gently before pulling him into a hug. Green melted into the contact, dripping tears turning into desperate sobs as he clung to his grandfather's forge-warm tunic.

Eventually, after his tears had dried out, Grandpa pressed a kiss to the top of Green's head, making him promise to come and ask for help when he needed it before tucking him back into bed. He was dozing in moments, and he'd nearly drifted off when he heard a quiet knocking at his door.

“Hey Green,” Blue's voice was much quieter than it usually was and Green looked over balefully swallowing the urge to ask if he came to steal his blanket this time too.

“Um, I'm sorry, about earlier. I didn't want to hurt you, I just got really frustrated cause I could see there was something wrong and I didn't know how to get you to talk about it, and I know that's not an excuse for being mean,” Blue was nearly mumbling into his boots, but Green could hear the hurt in his voice.

Green considered him for a moment before scooting back up from bed and launching himself into Blue's unsuspecting arms.

“It's ok, I forgive you,” He mumbled into the hug and Blue's startled laughter, before the air was crushed out of him when Blue returned the favour, lifting him up off his feet with the force. He'd never felt better. Okay maybe he had, he winced with a yelp when Blue caught a particularly nasty bruise on his side, cursing the wooden sword that had given it to him.

“I'm proud of you,” Green's feet hit the floor to the sight of his Grandpa beaming in from the door, “both of you,”

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ichorai · 3 years

Text

cellmates ; four ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 5.2k

warnings / includes ; medieval fantasy au, blood and grime and death and everything in between, some curse words, future ateez cameos, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; surprise !! here you go stop crying >:( kdjffj jk i hope yall enjoy !!! the plot thickens up quite a bit in this one 👀 ,,, there are also a couple surprises sprinkled here and there :DD to make up for what i did to yall last chapter lol

cellmates masterlist.

As a child, a popular tale you often heard was one depicting a man stranded on an island, throat dry with thirst and stomach void of nourishment. He passed out in exhaustion by the beach, just on the brink of death. But before his soul could fade away, the mermaids took pity on the man of skin-and-bones and brought him underwater, breathing life back into his lungs. He contentedly lived the rest of his life as a merperson.

Although stories like those always had happy endings, they could never really make you smile, unlike how all the other children reacted. What about the people the man cared about when he was on land? Had he just completely forgotten about them to selfishly live an easier life underwater?

The same thoughts ran through your pounding head repeatedly as you dully stared out into the gleaming ocean. From where you were, bound tightly against the main mast, you had a clear view of both the ship’s deck and the waters. You couldn’t really remember how long you’d been tied up… if you could recall correctly, they had only thrown Wooyoung overboard just last night. That felt like an eternity ago.

All thoughts of mermaids and fairy tales and Wooyoung dissipated from your mind once a pirate stepped into your view. In the daylight, they were far less scary than when you had first encountered them. The pirate had bronzed skin verging on being sunburnt, and sharp eyes of molten gold. A red bandana held his hair out of his leering face, and you noticed a dark branding burn of a sword ran through a skull embedded on his chest, partially covered by his loose tunic.

The man tutted, grabbing your chin between two fingers. It was then that you realized just how tired you were; you hadn’t gotten any sleep, instead spending the night struggling against your bonds and crying after Wooyoung.

“Let me go.” Your voice was so hoarse that it didn’t sound like yours anymore.

The pirate merely grinned and shook his head.

You wracked your brain for a second before spitting out, “Isn’t it bad luck to have a woman onboard? Your ship will sink if you keep me here.”

“Why, you must have nothing but worms between your ears,” He cackled in a sinister manner. “That’s just a silly little myth, sweetheart. Women are more than welcome here.” With those words, he ran his eyes over your tense form. A predator surveying its prey.

Much to your relief, the pirate stepped down. That feeling didn’t last very long, however. Just as he slid back, more pirates filtered into your view, clearly just having woken up to start the day. There were so many eyes on you; some curious, some disinterested, and some boldly staring with unsavory expressions.

“I say we make her do the dirty work,” One with golden teeth chimed. “Scrub the decks, clean the chamber pots.”

“We should toss her overboard. We don’t need another mouth to feed.”

“Keep her tied up there! A pretty thing like her should be on display for everyone to see!”

“We can drop her off at the next port and sell her off as a slave. We could use the extra gold.”

“Awh, don’t you think we should keep her? Ain’t half bad to look at.”

Those were only just a few snippets you could make out in the midst of the tumultuous roaring of the pirates as they yelled their suggestions over each other. They grew progressively louder as more ideas came into mind on what they should do with you. Panic brewed within you, but your limbs were tired and your mind was numb. All you could do was stand and watch.

The pirates immediately quietened once a one-eyed man with a peg leg hobbled out of the navigation room. The soft clunk, clunk, clunk of the wooden leg against the planks was not unsimilar to the rapid thundering of your heartbeat.

This is the captain, you thought. It was obvious, what with the way the pirates shut their mouths tightly and bowed their heads down to their chests. Some even trembled on the spot. If Wooyoung were here, he’d laugh at them.

Oh, how you missed him.

The captain had a voice of pure silk, a stark contrast to his ragged appearance. In a quietly powerful tone, he stated firmly, “We leave her here until we reach Aurecia. Then we sell her off.” After a tense pause, he sternly added on, “Nobody touches her until then. Aurecians pay well for unspoilt women, so if any of you lot come remotely close to her, I’ll have your heads.”

The diminutive consolation you received from the captain’s commands ebbed away slightly when you thought more about what he was saying. They were going to sell you off as a slave in Aurecia. And if you could recall the map correctly, Aurecia was the opposite direction of Virelis, where you were supposed to be going. To top it all off, Cerulea and Aurecia were trusted allies, and that could mean nothing good for you.

“No!” You suddenly interjected in a croaky voice, throat so dry it felt like you had sandpaper in your mouth. “Please, don’t take me there. I need to go to Virelis. Please, you can sell me there!”

Everybody stared at you in complete befuddlement. The captain gaped at you with one narrowed eye and spat out, “Virelis doesn’t take slaves. Don’t play games with me, girl.”

Out of desperation, pleading words frantically poured out of your mouth before you could stop and hesitate, “Then don’t sell me! I’m useful, I swear!”

“Forgive me if I have difficulty believing you,” The captain said in a bored tone, gesturing to your bleeding, tied up form.

A frustrated huff escaped you as you hissed out, “I’m Y/N L/N! I was the one that stole the princess’ necklace! I’m a valuable asset and you’d be lucky to have me on your crew.”

A stunned silence washed over the pirates. Then, one by one, they started laughing. They snorted and chuckled and slapped their knees as if you had told them the funniest joke in the world. You half-heartedly attempted speaking again, but your voice was drowned out by their howling laughter.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I FEED YOUR SORRY ASSES TO THE SHARKS!” The captain bellowed, his velvety tone long gone. He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl pulling at his lips.

The lot of them snapped their mouths shut so quickly you could hear their teeth clacking against one other.

“Y/N L/N is nothing but a legend,” The captain stepped closer to you, his one eye narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know, nor do I care for why you’re lying, but it better not become a problem. I’ve already got one crew to deal with. I don’t need to add a raving lunatic onto the list.”

“Please!” You wiggled against your bonds slightly, wincing at how the coarse rope fibers scratched at your chafed skin. “Why would I lie?! You’ve got to believe me, I’m Y/N L/N, I’ve been in jail for a long time and I’ve only recently escaped with the man you tossed overboard. Please, we can go bring him back, he can tell you, I - !”

The words lodged in your throat. It was pointless, trying to convince a haggle of savage pirates to go back for someone they tossed to the sharks. There was a sort of heavy pain deep down in your chest, and you brokenly blew out a sigh. The feeling churned at your insides uncomfortably. It might’ve been the sea sickness, but you knew it was a nasty combination of guilt and panic and regret.

The captain noticed your abrupt change in demeanor, but decided not to comment. Instead, he said stoically, “Y/N L/N is a wonderful character in a legend told to scare children and I would absolutely love to meet her. But unfortunately, I don’t think I’d ever get the pleasure to. She’s not real.” You stared into his one eye, tears welling up in your own. “And about the man we tossed over… he put up a real fight and he wasn’t worth the trouble. He’s probably long gone by now. It’d do you good to forget about him.”

Pirates behind the pair of you started snickering, but were quietened when the captain straightened and just about snarled out, “DON’T YOU HAVE WORK TO DO? GET ON WITH IT, YOU STINKY BASTARDS!”

They scrambled in a panicked fashion, a few of them running into each other as they dashed in opposite directions, others clumsily slipping on the damp plank wood, and some merely ran like headless chickens with no definite direction in mind.

“They’ll treat you well in Aurecia, girl,” The captain slipped back into his velvety tone once more. You supposed this was his way of apologizing… or, the closest thing to an apology you’d ever get from a pirate. “Just try to accept it and it won’t seem as bad. This lot here won’t hurt you in the meantime. I’ll make sure of that.” He gestured to the rest of the men who were settling back into their daily routines. You were surprised to see that they were already hard at work; manning the sails, scrubbing the decks, navigating the ship, so on so forth. The life of a pirate definitely wasn't an easy one.

You said nothing in return, staring blankly at the glinting ocean. The hollow clunk, clunk, clunk of his peg leg fading away was a sure sign that the captain was gone. You couldn’t bring it in yourself to watch him go.

This was most probably the worst possible time to cry. At this point, you were surprised your sore eyes could still manage to produce tears, considering how dehydrated you were. It was obvious that some of the pirates were still watching you, pausing mid-job. You tried to ignore them and hung your head sullenly as dry sobs rumbled in your chest.

You were stuck floating in a gigantic cesspool of saltwater, and yet your body had the audacity to produce even more. It was this very water you were bobbing on that most probably filled Wooyoung’s lungs as he gave up his last breath. The thought did nothing but make you weep harder.

Pirates really had no designated time to have luncheon and supper, but their stomachs all seemed to revolve around roughly the same hours. By the time the golden of the sun was grazing against the deep green waters and the sky was bleeding a strange shade of amaranthine, they were all shouting out complaints of hunger and trotting to the small kitchens below deck to have supper.

You were hungry, but also sure that if you had even a morsel of bread, you would heave it right back out. The day was spent with you gazing at the rocking waters, bustling pirates, and the large, tattered flag that hung proudly way above you. On occasion, you tried pleading to the pirates who were passing by, but none of them so much as glanced towards you. It seemed as though they took their captain’s orders to heart.

And so, after hours and hours of being neglected, imagine your surprise when one particular pirate sheepishly walked up to you, a little after all the others had disappeared below the deck to eat.

At first, you hadn’t noticed the quiet man because you had your stinging eyes shut, trying to block off the last and harshest glares of the sun as it sank under the edge of the world.

He cleared his throat once, and your eyes flew back open, startled.

“You must be starving,” He said.

The first thing you noticed about him was the strangely soft shade of pink his hair was. It wasn’t unsimilar to the color of Yunho’s hair, and you found yourself wondering how the kind giant of a man would react knowing that you lost Wooyoung.

“Oh,” He gestured to the brightly-hued strands on his forehead. “I’m half fairy. Everybody looks at me funny when they first see my hair.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you observed the man in front of you suspiciously. You had little to say in reply to the strangely personal fact he told you, and so you bit down on your tongue and let silence further consume you.

He had an angular face and complementing sharp features, but he bore a timid expression in an unexpectedly stark contrast. What was this fairy-man doing on a pirate ship? He didn’t look at all like the rest of the crew. The others were sunburnt and filthy and rugged. He, however, was somewhat well kempt, skin void of burns and scars and dirt. A loose cream-hued tunic was hung over broad shoulders, barely slung over his hardened chest, a leather belt tightened around the small of his waist and tucked into black trousers. It was quite a dignifying outfit in comparison to the rest of the crew clad in dirty rags and stolen clothes that didn’t match in the slightest. But for that, you could understand. Seeing the pirates randomly throw on haphazard articles of clothing, you thought back to when you were on the run with Wooyoung, stealing clothes off of drying lines and changing into whatever would fit.

The only thing that pushed the strange pink-haired man more towards the ‘rugged pirate’ side was a silver lip ring glinting with the late sunlight from the side of his bottom lip. In his eyes you saw gentle kindness, but you knew better than to trust him just yet.

“Are you hungry? I can sneak something up for you while everyone’s busy stuffing their face full.” He had a voice of honey and silk, tempting you to accept his generous offer. But you kept your mouth shut.

“I understand,” A sad, empathetic look crossed his face. “Sea sickness is the worst the first couple of days. From there, it’ll gradually get better once you get used to it. But please, drink some water.”

From out of nowhere, he brandished a pretty silver chalice and held it up to you, the metal stingingly cool against your lips. You would’ve been stupid to turn down the water, so you leaned forward slightly and slurped at the drink so quickly that some sloshed down your chin and dripped onto your chest.

“I can get you some more later,” He said, pulling the cup away as you gasped for air. “But I have to tell you something important first. My name is San, by the way.”

He had a name that roughly translated to ‘mountain’ in Old Cerulean. You thought it was a rather pretty name… fitting for such a pretty man.

“I just wanted to say this while no one was around,” San sucked in a deep breath, steeling his quaking nerves. “I believe you.”

The water had certainly drowned away the scratchy burn in your throat, so you were free to painlessly stutter out, “W-What?”

“I believe you,” He repeated. “It’s like you said… why would you lie?”

“You believe that I’m Y/N?” Your voice raised an octave or two higher, to which San shot you a warning look and glanced behind him as a precaution. If anybody heard or saw either of you, the captain would have his head. “Why?”

Hope was a dangerous thing. It muddled your brain and clouded your consciousness, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. So you looked upon the pink-haired pirate dubiously, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I might be the most gullible man out there,” San snorted, raising a hand to rub against the back of his neck. “You kinda fit the description in all the stories and legends. And you don’t look like you’re lying… I don’t know… it must be the fairy blood in me. My mother always knew when I was lying or telling the truth. She used to tell me that good people only truly lie when they want to protect others. But… you don’t have anybody here to protect. Not anymore, anyways.” There was a guilty, remorseful sort of look that flooded his face.

You were so relieved that you could’ve burst into tears right then and there.

“And… that man the others threw overboard… he kept saying your name. You might’ve had reason to lie to us, but he didn’t. Especially not then.” San spoke gently in a low tone, as if he were speaking to a frightened child. Something painful twisted in your stomach at his words. “So… yes, Y/N, I believe you.”

Then he leaned forward and quickly swiped his cool thumb over your damp cheek. You only then realized that you were crying again, flinching away from his touch at first, before relaxing your tensed muscles.

“Thank you,” was the only thing you could properly croak out. There were so many things you wanted to tell him. Help me. Let me out. Bring Wooyoung back. Take me away from here. Why are you helping me? What are you doing here?

Although none of your erratic thoughts were heard, you sagged in relief when he said, “I’ll try to talk to the captain about making a stop in Virelis.” As a tentative afterthought, he added, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“I loved him,” You croaked out, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t know that I did.”

San flashed you a sad smile, “Some people never realize. You’re lucky that you did.” Then, he murmured after gesturing to your bloody hands and wrists, “I’m also sorry about them hurting you. I have a special coconut extract lotion that treats wounds and burns very well. I’ll try to sneak up something for you to eat, as well. We’ll have to wait until it’s completely dark, though.”

You had so much to tell him, so much to ask, so much to thank him for. The fairy-man rotated on the stub of his heel to walk away, and you whispered out, “San!” He glanced back at you with a curious expression, and you nodded your head, sincerely grateful, “Thank you.” The questions could wait, you supposed.

A smile so wide spread across his lips that his eyes almost disappeared. Around savage pirates practically all his life, he rarely ever heard those two strangely comforting words. He dipped his head politely and walked away, leaving you to your own overwhelming thoughts.

Sleep had taken you under its dark wing a little while after San left, however fitful and sporadic. Your head pounded as your swollen and aching eyes fluttered open, somewhat surprised to see that it was still dark. Where was San?

Then, as your consciousness shook away the foggy webs of sleep, your brain registered a faint singing voice. However, it wasn’t just any rotten pirates’ singing voice; it sounded as if a woman was wailing, but in the most beautiful way possible. The trembling vocal chords pierced through the night sky, high-pitched and ringing in your ears melodically. It was a song in a language you couldn’t understand, but the warbled words molded together sounded pure and whole, just about placing you under a trance. But of course, you were still quite dazed and confused from slumber, unable to clearly hear the singing voices. On top of that, the water seemed to be extra loud, splashes and waves thundering against the boat almost every five seconds.

Tired, you rolled your stiff neck. Strangely, you noticed that the deck in front of you was void of any pirates. Glancing to the side, there was not a single soul to be seen manning the navigational wheel. Your neck ached as you craned it to look upwards, squinting at the crows’ nest, just to see that it was equally empty. Where are they? you thought absent-mindedly.

The singing was getting louder, and you had to physically shake your head to get your mind out of the gutters. The ropes strained against the skin of your raw wrists even more when you shifted to look behind you.

The sight that you were met with had you reeling against the mast in panic.

Sirens. Dozens of them, sitting on moldy rocky ledges jutting out of the ocean waters. They were beautiful creatures, smooth skins tainted a faint green and shimmery silver hair just long enough to drape wetly over their breasts. They bore seductive expressions and parted their full lips to croon out the mesmerizing song in unison.

And the splashing against the boat? With a choked gasp of horror, the undisputed mystery of where all the pirates had gone was answered. One by one, they were marching off the planks, plummeting into the salty ocean waters, swimming as if their life depended on it, closer and closer to the beckoning sirens. They all held entranced expressions, some with gaping mouths and others with fully blown pupils of adoration and lust.

The sirens were far enough where you weren’t fully under influence, but much too close to be clear of mind. You had to count yourself lucky for being female; it was known that sirens had stronger effects on men. But you didn’t have much time to spare.

You suddenly became short of breath in panic. Where was San? Had he already jumped off? Blowing out a shuddering sigh, your neck trembled with great effort as you angled yourself to look back again. It was easy to spot his brightly-colored mane, the pink starkly bright in the moonlight.

“SAN!” You screamed to the best of your abilities, voice scratchy from your previous slumber. For a second, the fairy-man seemed to twitch slightly into your direction. A particularly high-pitched note echoed across the waters, just about slicing through any hesitation San might’ve held. Just like that, he turned completely away from you with a stupefied look, before hopping off the ship and plunging into the ocean.

A scream of protest ripped through your throat. There was no time to think… you could already feel their lulling voices numb the corners of your mind…

No. No, I have to get out of this.

With a quick glance back, a flare of hope ignited somewhere within your chest when you spotted a dagger just behind you, buried in the fraying wood of a grog barrel. Its handle was jutting out in your direction, the crooked blade void of rust and gleaming with reflected moonlight. Excruciating pain shot through your right arm as you twisted your wrist about, desperate to be freed of the knot. The hardest part was getting your hand through the tight loophole, groaning at the throbbing sensation.

After frantically yanking yourself upwards, you managed to wrench your right wrist free, covered with blood and scratches and blisters. Then, with no time to spare, you reached as far as you could behind you, towards the barrel. Your bones ached and cracked under the strain, but you pushed through with gritted teeth. Tears ran down your twisted features from the pain. With a final shriek, you lunged and wrapped your blood-slicken fingers around the hilt. The sick sound of your left shoulder popping had you screaming in pained misery, but there was no time to lament. You’d fix it up later.

It took little effort to extract the blade out of the rotting wood. You prayed not to drop the dagger as your hand trembled ruthlessly. Swallowing dryly, you raised the blade to your left wrist, and began hacking away at the ropes.

They were tough, coarse things, but gave way eventually, unraveling with each strand. You didn’t even have to cut through the whole thing until it was weak enough to break on its own.

You were free.

The sirens’ song grew louder and louder, and frantically, you wobbled away from the mast and to the side of the ship, steadying your shaking legs against the rail. Every fibre of your being screamed at you to stop and jump into the water, swim to the beautiful melody that came from just over there…

“No!” You managed to moan out. Your left arm was completely useless; you weren’t able to move the limb at all. The tearing of your shirt as you somehow managed to rip off the sleeve rang in your muddled head alongside the foreign words quavering through the air. You used the dagger to slice the cloth in half, and shoved each piece into your ears. It was disgusting and uncomfortable, but it would have to suffice. The sirens’ voices sounded little other than muffled hums, and though you had to stay cautious, you could already feel your mind clear tremendously.

The last of the pirates had just clambered off the side. You would’ve heard the large splash he made as he cannon-balled into the waters if it weren’t for your make-shift ear plugs.

You were tired. You were thirsty, aching, sleepy, and just about every other bad feeling one could possibly have. Unfortunately, the ship was still heading right towards the sirens, no doubt turned off-course by a crewmate heavily under their influence.

And so, you dragged your heavy limbs over to the navigational wheel, letting out a soft tormented wince when the small act of curling your quaking fingers around the wooden spokes were enough to send what felt like great electric shocks of pain up your spine. Then, you spun the wheel one-handed, over and over and over again until the massive beauty of a ship leaned away from the sirens (who were clearly enraged, hissing and baring their sharp teeth), silkily gliding over the waters. Warm ocean air billowed into your face and tousled your hair, and for the first time since you’ve gotten onto the ship, you didn’t feel like throwing up.

A part of you felt bad for leaving San, the only pirate to show you even just a morsel of empathy. Who knows, maybe he’d survive. He was half fairy, after all. You muttered out a soft soft wish of good luck for the pink-haired man, though you doubted that would do much.

Your mind was quick to leap from the fate of San to a man who’s been in your life for much longer. Where would you be if it weren’t for him?

Wooyoung wasn’t one to just… give up like that. He couldn’t be dead. Perhaps you were being a fool for holding onto hope, but you would gladly welcome that title if there was even the slightest chance that he was still out there, alive and breathing.

And so, you steeled your nerves by drawing in a grand breath. Your lips settled in a firm, determined line.

You were going to go find Wooyoung.

Where were you to start?

Dozens and dozens of maps and scrolls were tossed about as you pillaged through the papers, in search of a chart that would actually be of use to you. Much to your dismay, there weren’t any maps whatsoever that held the directions to Virelis. There goes that plan down the drain. Where else was there to go?

The sling that held up your left arm was procured hastily from the medbay after you popped your dislocated shoulder back into its socket with a quailing shriek. The pain had faded into a dull ache, but at least now you could wiggle your fingers. That was a good sign, you supposed. Your stomach was full with what you could find in their kitchen pantries (which was mostly just stale biscuits and half-cooked fish), and to be honest, you felt better than you have in a long, long time, despite the circumstances.

There was still the problem of finding him, though. If you could recall correctly, you were only around a days’ sail away from where they had kicked Wooyoung off.

But that would mean turning back to Cerulea. And that… definitely didn’t sound smart. You rubbed your fingers against your throbbing temple, taking a long swig of refreshing water from a pitcher. Gentle light was filtering in through the small circular window, illuminating the yellowed maps in such a way to make them look golden. There was no time to appreciate the simple beauty of this, however, because a stupid, moronishly foolish, plan was forming in your head.

What if you went back to Cerulea? Would Wooyoung be waiting for you there? Maybe he was staying with Yunho while he got back on his feet. After all, it’s not like he could swim all the way to Virelis, especially with how injured he was. Cerulea was a much closer, safer plan. It was the only place he could go, right?

Unease twisted your stomach at the thought of going back to the country that locked you in a dark dungeon for moons upon moons upon moons. Deep down inside, you knew that no part of Wooyoung would ever willingly go back to Cerulea. Not after all he went through trying to get out. But what else were you to do? And even if he weren’t there, at least you’d be able to inform Yunho on what happened. Then the sweet giant of a man could help you find him.

You stood up, compasses and maps slipping off your lap, respectively clanging and fluttering towards the ground noisily. With large, determined strides, you exited the navigational room and to the main deck, where the steering wheel was situated. Warm, salty breeze whispered against your ears, calm and encouraging.

“I’ll find you, Wooyoung,” Your words were swiftly stolen by the wind. You hoped that gale would be kind enough to carry the message over to him, however impossible it was.

Halfway across the world, laid an unconscious dark-haired man, clad in nothing save for his smallclothes and bandages tightly wrapped around his skull. He was situated stiffly atop a narrow bed, scars and bruises still quite fresh and clearly visible against his paler-than-usual skin.

Wooyoung awoke with a startled choke of a gasp, sore eyes flying wide open. There was a searing pain in his abdomen as he sat up, wheezing and hissing in agony. He took in his surroundings with a panicked demeanor, gaze landing on the mildly surprised fair-headed figure with striking green eyes standing by the doorway, fresh bandages in his palms. He’s an elf, Wooyoung realized after a long moment of gaping, noticing the ever-so-slightly pointed ears poking out beneath silvery locks and the infamous nature-woven clothes only elves wore.

“Took you long enough,” He said in a thick Elvish accent, followed by a beguiling snort. “I thought you would stay asleep forever. I’m Yeosang.”

Wooyoung blinked sluggishly once, twice, and a third and fourth time for good measure. He knew very well that he should probably answer. After all, elves were widely known to be an easily offended kind. But for the love of everything he held dear, he just couldn’t seem to crack his lips open.

The two stared at each other awkwardly for a second more. Then promptly, his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as his upper half crumpled onto the bed, instantaneously returning into the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Embers- (1)

warnings: suggestive, future smut, themes of death

wc: 5.3k

teaser

White specks of paint, scattered across an inky sky - they truly were beautiful. You adjusted yourself on the grassy hill, eyes closing as you tried to calm your nerves. Sighing, you ran your hand over crimson scales, trying to ignore the blinding lights of your village in the distance.

“The stars are beautiful tonight.”

You wished you could stay here forever. Where the only sounds that grace your ears are the deep rumbling snores of the enormous draconian creature you're curled up against. It's a comforting sound, and yet you knew you were going to have to leave soon. Your father would be absolutely enraged if you were late to such an important event- in fact, you were sure he’d have absolutely no qualms killing you in front of the entire village and crowning a broomstick as his heir instead.

Perhaps that's why you delayed the inevitable for a little longer, nuzzling your head against the dragon's hide. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you observed your bustling village from above, frantically getting ready for the festival and the welcoming. People were decorating their houses, painting murals onto their walls and making sure everything was perfect for the guests that would arrive tonight.

The streets were lit up with lanterns, and the people milling about outside their houses were dressed up in their best. The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable, and you could almost feel it from atop the hill.

Sighing, you looked to the side, your eyes meeting enormous yellow ones.

“Aeracus...I know what you’re thinking.” You sighed and curled up your knees to your chest. “And you’re right. I’m nervous, but also excited. I can’t believe we’re going to be seeing him again after all these years. Can you?”

The dragon slowly shook his head from side to side, and you chuckled. “Do you think he’s changed? Or do you think he’s still a feline-obsessed asshole?” You smiled, his laughter ringing in your ears as you reminisced.

Slowly though, the good memories bled into terrible ones. Loss and pain, mingling in your heart and taking over your emotions. The smile disappeared from your face as you remembered what had happened. The reason he left. The reason you weren’t allowed to participate in the championships that were to be a part of the festival’s celebrations...the reason the whole village considered you an outcast, despite being the chief’s daughter.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing your hair back as you slowly stood up, dusting off your tunic. You pressed a kiss to the dragon’s neck, sighing.

“I’m going to go, Aeracus. Honestly, you should be grateful you don’t have to partake in these events.”

The dragon let out a disapproving rumble at that, and your face softened. That was a low blow. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was forced to to refrain from joining his fellow dragons in the games. No, the blame was to be shared between you and Minho.

The felicity in your heart was intertwined with a faint sense of lingering sorrow. It happened so many years ago, and yet the echoes were still fresh in your mind...

You couldn’t deny that you were desperate to see him again. In fact, saying you were desperate would probably be an understatement. You were thrilled, electrified- and yet, oh so anxious.

You clenched your fists, taking in a deep breath and starting to descend the hill. You’d put it off for long enough.

***

“Children, listen carefully, now.”

The boy next to you didn’t heed the elder’s warning, continuing to draw on the back of his hand.

“Minho! Pay attention, or I will have to call your father.”

Minho looked up, scowling. He placed the chalk down and pursed his lips, directing his attention towards the clay figurines that were laid out in front of the elderly woman. You, as well as the 10 other kids in the cottage, were fascinated by the story being told. The woman was teaching you about your culture, the information you needed to know regarding the upcoming ceremony. It was important, and yet Minho couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked cats more than dragons anyway.

“As I was saying.” She cleared her throat, resuming her lesson.

“Now that you children are 13, you are no longer babies. Certain things are expected of you. You have embarked on your journey to adulthood...and thus, there are certain things you must know. The elements of our village, for one.”

She gestured to the figurines on the dirt floor in front of her. “As you all already know, there are four elements.” She pointed to a spiky pyramid, and then to a smooth sphere. “Ember, Aqua...” Her fingers moved to the next pair- a rough cube and a glassy cone. “...Terra and Aer. These are the symbols of the elements. Of course, you all have already seen the life-sized versions of these in our square.”

Eager nods, making her continue with a pleased smile.

“Every dragon on this planet has a corresponding element that they have control over. They possess immense power, and the ability to command these elements.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Hm, maybe this wasn’t as lame as he’d thought it would be..

“I’m sure you children have seen your parents, older friends and relatives with their dragons.” There was a chorus of agreement, and the woman nodded.

“Well, from next week onwards, you will each have your own dragons. Through the ceremony, you will all be assigned a hatchling, with which you will spend the rest of your life.”

Minho hummed in curiosity as the woman dismissed the class. “Good luck, loves. Remember, there will be a few more classes to brief you further.”

The others started filing out slowly as you turned to Minho. “Isn’t this exciting?” You tilted your head, running your eyes over the figurines. “Since my family are all fire elementals, do you think I’ll get an ember dragon?”

“I don’t think it works that way. My father said it doesn’t matter what family you come from, the dragon you get matched with can be of any element, apparently. Though it hasn’t ever happened yet.” He shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He yawned. “I already knew everything she said. I could have used this valuable time for something else.” He was lying, to be honest. The only thing he knew about dragons was what he’d just told you.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Do you wanna go to the lake?”

You grinned. “Sure, let’s!” You nodded in agreement as Minho stood up eagerly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the cottage. You giggled as he dragged you. “Hey, slow down! Also, we can’t be there for long. We’ve got to be home for that joint dinner, or our fathers will be very mad.”

“Eh, they’d barely notice if we’re gone. When discussing village matters, they don’t give a fuck about their own children, even.” He muttered bitterly.

“Well...that is true.” You sighed as Minho pulled you all the way to the lake, weaving past the villagers, even bumping into some of them. A few of them frowned and made shouts of displeasure, while others didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe they did, and was just too afraid to voice their anger towards the chiefs’ children.

The cottages start becoming more sparse, the trees more tightly clustered. Minho held your hand tightly as you made your way through the woods. Finally, the two of you reached the clearing.

Letting go of your hand gently, Minho sat at the edge of the lake, beckoning you over to sit next to him.

“I wish this place wasn’t so far away from the village.” You sighed, legs aching as you flopped down onto the grass.

Minho shook his head slowly, his fingers fiddling with a tiny dandelion he’d pulled out. “The further away, the better.” He grumbled, blowing on it and watching as the seeds floated in the breeze.

You sighed. There it was, again. You knew better than to oppose him, so you hummed, scooting a little closer and placing your hand on top of his. “I know you want to leave this place. I know you want to...to explore the world. I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll be by your side.” You said honestly.

Minho looked up at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He felt like there was a lump in his throat. Minho knew how much this village and its culture meant to you. You were really willing to do that for him? Leave, and never come back?

“Listen here, Miss L/n.” He turned to you, inhaling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft as they brushed against your skin. You blushed, staring at him with wide eyes as he spoke.

“I’m the one who’s going to be making the sacrifices here, alright? I’m older than you, remember? I call the shots.” He chuckled, booping your nose.

“I love you so much, star.”

You cringed at the nickname, shoving him away. “Stop calling me that, you sound like a character in one of Mr Yang’s cheesy novels.”

He smirked at that. “I’ll never stop calling you that. You’re my star, cause you light up my world and guide me when everything’s dark.” He reasoned, laughing and throwing his head back as he watched you wrinkle your nose in disgust, looking a little like a bunny.

Humming, Minho lay back on the grass, and you followed suit after a minute of hesitation.

“I don’t mind you calling me that. Just don’t do it in front of people.”

“Okay, I won’t. It’s just us all the time, anyway...”

The two of you stared up at the sky, listening to the calm sounds of frogs ribbiting, birds chirping, and the splashing sounds of the fish in the lake. Above it all though, was the sound of your heart, beating persistently as Minho’s fingers creeped closer to yours, intertwining your hands.

“It’s always us...”

***

Your father had explained to you that since your family consisted entirely of ember elementals, your dragon would be of the same kind as well. This went against what Minho had told you before, and your mind was swimming with all the different information you were receiving.

“But...Minho said it doesn’t work that way.”

He sat on his armchair, chewing on a chicken leg as he raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, he’s wrong.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s never happened in centuries, and it’s not gonna happen now. You’re an Ember, through and through.”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’re always right, Father.”

He nodded, not picking up on the snark your sentence was dripping with. "The bond you share with your dragon is one that can never be replicated. You choose it, and it chooses you. It is truly a beautiful process, a spectacle to behold. Every single villager will be watching, so you better hold your head high. Make me proud."

You were about to reply when you heard a knock on your door. Glancing at your father for permission, you stood up. heading through the long hallway to open the front door.

“Minho?”

You looked at him, tilting your head at his troubled expression. “What’s up?

“I came to give you these.” He said softly, looking around before showing you the fiery petals in his palms. “I borrowed a herbology book from the library a few months ago, and learnt how to grow these. Ignis flowers. They’re symbols of good luck, apparently.”

He took your hand, placing the petals on your palm. “They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slowly. “Wow...Minho, I didn’t get you anything...” You said guiltily, humming when Minho gently pulled you into a hug.

“You don’t have to. I’ve got to go home, now. See you tomorrow!”

You nodded, the petals safe in your hands as he left hurriedly. You watched him head to his house, opposite to yours.

After he left, you were about to head to bed when your father asked you to stay back. Confused, you went over to sit in front of him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Who was at the door?”

“It was just Minho.” You shrugged, eyeing your father as he groaned, massaging his forehead. He looked like he was contemplating something, his wrinkles seeming especially prominent.

"Child, be wary of your...friend."

"Friend...?" You knew he meant Minho. You'd never heard him address him in that manner though - void of affection.

Minho's father and yours were co-chiefs of the village, best friends since birth. He’d always treated Minho like his own son. What had brought on this sudden hostility?

He noticed the expression on your face, sighing and patting your shoulder. "I'm just asking you to be careful, dear. There is talk of the Aer elementals gaining power at an accelerated rate these days. Aer dragons are growing up to be stronger, even more so than our Ember ones. It's truly a strange phenomenon. I do not want to be one of these people who is suspicious of everything and everyone...but both the kid and his father have changed. Even I can't deny that."

You swallowed at his words, watching as his face drifted off, deep in thought. You'd heard of it too- hushed whispers claiming that a single chief would be preferable for the village. And if your father's hunch was right...no, you didn't want to think about it.

Minho wouldn't ever betray you. You'd known him since before you could talk. you’d build up a lot of trust in each other over the years. There was no one else you knew as well. If you couldn’t trust him, who could?

No. He would never hurt you. You were sure of it.

***

The whole village was buzzing for weeks after the ceremony took place. They simply couldn't understand what had happened. It was unprecedented- and the news spread like wildfire.

You were matched with a majestic Aer creature, and Minho a beautiful crimson beast of Ember. Mistakes weren't possible- the process was never questioned- but that didn't mean people weren't bewildered.

For centuries, no one had managed to match with a dragon that controlled an element that differed from theirs.

Neither of you could understand why your fathers and the villagers were so perplexed, though. Was it really as big of a deal as they made it seem?

"I don't get it. Why is it such a humongous problem? They’re just dragons. What’s the need for all this drama?" Minho rolled his eyes as he spoke.

You stroked your dragon's neck slowly as you watched him, huffing and ranting away. ‘Just dragons.’ There was a part of you that understood all the hubbub. The people loved gossip- especially if it involved the chiefs.

"It really isn't. They're both so beautiful, I don't really care what element they control."

You looked at your dragon, curled next to you. You wouldn't admit it, but she looked a little too beautiful- almost to the point where it intimidated you.

Translucent, white scales that reflected rainbows of light...long, beautiful almond shaped eyes that were the color of the ocean. She was larger and brighter than Minho's dragon as well. Your father had been right...the Aer dragons were evolving quicker, somehow.

She was quiet and regal, her sleek body elegant and her demeanor refined. You didn’t really have much in common, to be honest. You’d named her Caeli- a name that wasn’t really all that creative, but it would do. Besides, it seemed to fit.

Minho looked at you, sighing slowly. "Aeracus seems hungry. Father will be expecting me soon anyway, I think I'll go home now, Y/n."

"Bye, Min."

He shot you a dashing grin before standing up, climbing his dragon.

As they left, a great whoosh of wind rustling your hair, you looked up at your dragon. She was staring at the water, her eyes narrowed.

You were starting to feel a little worried. You couldn’t exactly...hear her thoughts. She seemed too closed off, barely even looking at you as she blankly watched the frogs jump from one lilypad to the other. You didn’t feel that special bond everyone had been talking about for years, insisting to you that it would be a connection so profound you wouldn’t be able to live without it.

Did she not like you? You looked so average next to her ethereality, drab and plain as opposed to her stunning beauty.

You couldn’t blame her, really.

***

When Minho stood next to your dragon, the sight somehow made more sense. He was beautiful, and so was the creature next to him. They fit together perfectly.

Aeracus on the other hand, was slightly more average. He was majestic as well, but not on the same level as Caeli. You felt more at home riding him, somehow. Like...he was the one that was meant to be yours.

Of course, you wouldn’t ever tell anyone about this. It could be considered infidelity, even. Your father was disappointed enough in you as it was. Four years of training with Caeli, and you still weren’t able to channel her power into...anything. She just wouldn’t co-operate.

"There you go..." He finished slipping the harness onto Caeli, dusting off his hands as he came back over to you, giggling as Aeracus rubbed his big head against your side.

Minho raised his eyebrows at the display of affection. Aeracus was never that amicable to him. Yes, he listened to him...but that was about it. And yet, to you...he always noticed how the two of you seemed to have some sort of connection. He’d mentioned this to his father once, only to be called ridiculous.

Then again, he couldn’t blame the dragon for having a soft spot for you. Who wouldn’t?

“Hey...” He looked down at you as the dragon pulled away, ambling off to Caeli’s side. You glanced up slowly when Minho cleared his throat, leaning in a little as his fingers ran through your tresses. Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening slightly at his touch.

"A leaf. In your hair." He mumbled, throwing said leaf onto the ground as he stared into your eyes.

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest as your gaze ran over his features, so close to your face. Fuck, he was so deathly handsome, even more so now that you were both almost adults. Puberty had treated him well.

A little too well.

The girls in the square swooning over Minho became a regular occurrence now. You couldn't even seem to go anywhere with your best friend, without having a mob of fangirls following closely.

When he was this close to you, it became overwhelmingly evident why his fans were so enamored by him. Lee Minho really was beautiful.

"Careful, a fly might make its nest in your mouth." He chuckled. "What's up, kitten? You look on edge."

That was the other thing. His latest habit of calling you pet names- the likes of which included princess and kitten- had come out of nowhere. He really seemed to enjoy making you blush. At times like this, you wished he would have just stuck with ‘star’.

“Nothing.” You stuttered, avoiding his eyes and choosing to focus your stare on the ground. Minho wasn’t in the mood for your shyness, though. He placed his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You sure about that? Is there a reason you look so flustered right now?” He breathed, leaning in closer until your noses were brushing.

Oh, fuck you, Lee.

You'd always thought Minho was attractive. Of course. You'd be blind not to notice. And yet, at this proximity, you felt like you haven’t ever truly appreciated just how fucking hot the man in front of you was.

And so you did something you never thought you’d have the courage to do.

Leaning in, you closed the distance between the two of you, lips crashing against his. To Minho’s credit, he wasn’t all that shocked. Smirking against you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer, gluing your body to his.

Backing you up against a tree, Minho was quick to lift your thigh, slotting your hips together as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip.

A groan left you as he slid his hand under your shirt, pulling away to stare at you, the sight of your swollen lips affecting him in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

“What...what did we just-”

He shut you up with another kiss, rougher than the last one. Breathless pecks, desperately claiming you with his lips as he pressed himself against you.

“Just go with the flow, baby.”

And so you did.

***

As you carefully made your way down, your mind was racing with a million thoughts. The thought of seeing your boyfriend again after so many years scared you as much as it excited you. After all...it wasn’t like you parted on good terms.

You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the last time you saw him. You couldn’t tell him that you’d tried everything, tried your best to reason with your father who simply refused to budge. He’d expected you to do something more...but what?

It wasn’t his fault. It was a fucking accident, and yet he’d had to take the blame.

Deep down, though, you knew what your father’s real intentions had been when he banished Minho and his father from the village. Of course, Caeli’s death had shaken him- the entire village had been in a state of shock. The death of a dragon was the most tragic event that could possibly befall a village. And when said dragon happened to belong to the chief’s daughter? Shattering.

At the end of the day though, it was a convenient incident...one that happened to take place just as your father’s status was being questioned. A blessing in disguise, for him.

“It’s okay, my child. Yes, you suffered a great loss, but I know you weren’t that close to it. We must move on. On the bright side, you can focus on your studies now! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to do?”

You scoffed, his words repeating themselves in your brain. Bullshit. There was no bright side, nor would there ever be one without Minho in your life.

***

“There you are. Where were you?"

"I...was with Aeracus." You didn't see the point in lying. Your brain was too tired to come up with a believable fabrication anyway.

As expected, his face screwed up in anger as he glared, standing up.

"Why?" He hissed. "Let me remind you he is not your dragon. How many times have I told you not to get too close to it?"

"Aeracus and I have a bond." You mumbled.

"No. You don't. A bond is forged between a dragon and its owner by forces beyond our control. This measly 'friendship', if you can even call it that, is trivial. At the end of the day, it doesn't really belong to you. It belongs to the boy who betrayed you."

You couldn't bring yourself to react any more. Your father was old-fashioned, his opinions set in stone. ‘Betrayed’. You wanted to scoff.

You turned around without a word, heading for your room. There was no energy left in your body, yet the exhaustion was overpowered by your emotions.

"Y/n, wait."

You stopped, turning and looking at him. "What?"

"Your maids are waiting to dress you. Don't argue with them. You are to wear the outfit I picked out for you. Today's dinner is extremely important." He paused. "And...what I said before still stands. The dragon won't hesitate to betray you, especially now that his true owner is coming back. Be...be careful." Your father said quietly, his face softening.

You sighed. "I will be."

"Good."

He dismissed you. You heaved a sigh of relief under your breath and headed out, opening the door to your own room.

You would never admit this to your father, but as nervous as you were, you were secretly looking forward to the dinner. To see him again.

If you closed your eyes and immersed yourself deep enough into your imagination, you could still feel his touch ghosting along your thighs. His soft lips, pressing against yours.

You missed his voice, his tight hugs...you missed everything about him. You'd only ever felt safe in his arms.

The loneliness and pain had consumed you when he left. Maybe that's why you latched on to Aeracus, the last remnant of Minho in this village that seemed so much more dreary without his presence.

"Miss Y/n! We have no time to lose." Your head maid scurried about your room with two others, spreading out your dress on your bed. One of the maids- Sylvia, you think her name was- snuck up behind you and began undressing you. Yes, you were used to this, but the layer of urgency in the atmosphere was a lot more profound tonight.

The entire village was on edge, and you couldn’t really blame them. The first Elemental Championships, and they were being hosted at your village. The exhilaration was understandable...you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way, though. Maybe if you were actually participating, you’d feel different.

You looked at the dress the maid was holding onto, initially without much interest...but your eyes widened when it came into view.

It was beautiful, yet simple...the color of spun gold, with tiny rubies clustered at the bodice. The sleeves fell of the shoulders delicately, and the material was diaphanous, the texture rich.

“Wow....Sylvia, you made this?”

“I did. It took me a year.” She smiled widely, your grin satisfying her. “Do you really like it, Miss Y/n?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice, and your grin grew wider as they started helping you into it.

“Like it? I love it! You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

She nodded in content, lacing up the back as the other maids began on your makeup. Usually, you didn’t like being treated as a doll, your servants fussing over you and your appearance. Today, though...

You could barely believe the reflection you were seeing in the mirror belonged to you. You'd never felt so glamorous before.

“You look beautiful, Miss.” Sylvia said softly, adjusting your sleeves.

You couldn’t wait for Minho to see you in this dress.

“Ann?” Another servant’s head appeared around the corner. “It’s time. They will arrive any moment now.”

A flurry of anxious noises and exclamations filled the room as they worked on you faster. You took a deep breath in, your mind blank and full of thoughts at the same time.

***

You stood next to your father, hands clasped in front of you. Surreptitiously, you raised your hand to your forehead, wiping away a few drops of perspiration. It was happening, you were finally going to see Minho again. And if your father successfully manages to make amends with his- fuck, you were grinning just thinking about it.

The villagers standing behind you were all dressed in their best as well, and the lanterns shone brightly, washing over everything. The air was sparkling, the atmosphere charged with electricity. Everyone had their eyes trained on the sky, waiting for Minho’s people. The two other villages were to come tomorrow, according to the letters.

Four villages. All competing in the championship yours was hosting. It was nerve-wracking, the amount of people who would be crammed into your village, which was big enough, really- possibly the largest in the country- it still stressed you out, though. Since there weren’t enough guest houses to fit everyone, a lot of the visitors would be staying with your villagers, the chiefs and their families staying at your house. You were keenly aware of the fact that this meant Minho would be in the same living quarters as you. Your heart pounded at the prospect.

Later in the night, you were planning to sneak into his room, since you obviously wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him during the dinner. At least, you wouldn’t be able to communicate the things you so desperately wanted to say to him. Every part of you tingled as you thought about what you’d say to him.

You felt light as a feather as you stared at the starry sky, eyes widening slightly as you spotted the thousands of dots in the distance, flying closer. Anticipation and exhilaration mingled in you as you waited for them to arrive. Just the thought of feeling Minho pressed up against you again, whispering in your ear how much he loved you...it made you want to cry, almost. You’d waited for this moment for too long.

The conch shell was blown as they reached the edge of the forest. More than a thousand dragons, covered in finery, just like their riders.

Hmm. There were a lot more than you expected. You’d only been anticipating about a hundred, since it was only Minho’s village that was coming tonight. Or so you’d thought...

You turned your head to look at your father, letting the confusion show on your face. Noticing your expression, he shrugged. “It looks like all three decided to come tonight.”

You frowned, looking back at the dragons that were at the border now, preparing for landing. That was weird.

You observed the dragons that had landed, your eyebrows furrowing. Huh.

The three dragons at the front were a lot bulkier than the ones in the back. Darker colors, almost hulking muscles and narrow eyes. They looked like no dragon you’d ever seen before. The sight was almost unsettling. You felt a faint sense of dread spreading over you, a feeling you tried to push away as your eyes searched each dragon’s back for Minho.

You recognized Minho’s father right away. He was at the very front, along with two other old men on a green and blue dragon respectively, that you realized were the chiefs of the other two villages. Surprisingly though, Minho wasn’t sat behind him. You’d assumed it to be that way...after all, Minho’s dragon was still here. So where was he? Your eyebrows furrowed, not wanting to assume the worst right away. You wildly looked over them all, craning your neck slightly. You didn’t want to seem too eager, but it’s not like you could help yourself. Could anyone blame you? Here you were, about to meet the first and only person you’d ever fallen in love with, after years of yearning and loneliness.

As your father stepped forward, a smile on his face to greet the chiefs, you finally saw him.

For a minute, it was like you couldn’t breathe. He looked as beautiful as ever, his feline eyes twinkling, his dark hair exposing part of his smooth forehead. His hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles were white, and the way he sat on his dragon was regal, his expression confident and filled with determination. He was older, and somehow even more handsome than the last time you saw him. You didn’t even think that was possible.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes finally met yours.

It was like time had ceased for a minute. You smiled slowly, happy tears pricking at your eyes as you took in his face.

He didn’t smile back.

And that’s when you noticed the pale arms wrapped around his waist. Confused, you watched as the chiefs dismounted the dragons, along with their heirs. Minho alighted from the dragon, helping down the woman who had been holding onto him. He held her hands gently, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

You felt like your whole world had collapsed, bile rising in your throat as you watched her giggle. You noticed she was dressed in blue, her clothing that of a heiress. As they approached, your eyes fell on the sparkling ring on her finger...one that matched Minho’s.

When his eyes looked into yours again, they were cold, just like your heart.

#minho smut #lee know smut #minho series #minho angst #lee know angst #minho x reader #minho imagines #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop imagines #skz series

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bloededhoine · 3 years

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world building cause twn doesn't part 4: elves!

everyone loves elves! they're a fantasy genre mainstay, archery is so sexy, and they have those E A R S. plus, they play a pretty important part in the witcher universe!

series masterpost

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

background

i'd recommend going through the last parts, or at least the tl;dr's first

elves arrived on the continent about 2000 years before humans, and are divided into 5 distinct cultures of varying importance: aen undod, aen elle, aen seidhe, black seidhe, and aen woedde

elves only came to the continent in one group, but not all of that group stayed. the different branches based on where they settled make up the different cultures

the main two languages in the witcher are common speech and elder speech (aka hen llinge), the former used by most humans and the latter used by the elder races

aen undod

the aen undod are the oldest elven culture, having existed years before the conjunction of spheres

their home world faced some huge catastrophe, so the aen undod left in search of new worlds, leaving their descendants to become all the future elven cultures.

the aen undod spoke the oldest dialect of elder speech, laith aen undod, or one speech

aen elle

the aen elle use a language derived from hen llinge called ellylon, in which their name means "of the alders"

they don't actually live on the continent, having abandoned it years ago for their own world.

however, when the aen elle arrived in this new world, it was already populated by humans and unicorns. unfortunately, these elves are notoriously ruthless and both the native species were eradicated.

the capital of the aen elle world is tir ná lia, and is described as stunningly beautiful, featuring open air buildings made of marble, alabaster, and malachite. here it is in the third witcher video game, by djkovrik on nexus. their screenshots are amazing btw.

[ID: screenshot from wild hunt showing tir ná lia. the city is built on cliffs above a sea, there are waterfalls falling from the cliffs and bridges connecting them. there are mountains in the background and the buildings are fairly small and out of focus, they seem to be in the gothic revival style with ornate windows and steeped roofs. end ID]

the ruler of the aen elle was auberon muircetach, king of the alders and aen saevherne (aen saevherne is the honorary title of an elven mage who has extensive knowledge of magic, geneology, history, and many other subjects). auberon was also ciri's 5 times great grandfather. this gwent card pretty much sums up his vibe: scary yet sexy.

[ID: illustration of elven man with long white hair on a brown horse. he has defined cheekbones and facial features and is wearing a gold crown and blue robes with a red sash, gold belt, and leather boots. he is holding a white unicorn head in one hand. the unicorn's horn is cut off, and is bloody around its neck and where its horn was. end ID]

auberon's consort was another aen elle named shiadhal, with whom he had one daughter, lara dorren. lara is so so so important for the witcher, as she is the beginning of the elder blood, or hen ichaer.

hen ichaer is a gene that carries incredibly powerful magic, and those who have it are usually sources. i talk more abt this in part 3.

for better or for worse, lara dorren fell in love with a human sorcerer, cregennan of lod, and left tir ná lia for him. auberon took this as cregennan "stealing" his daughter and therefore the hen ichaer, and developed a pretty hefty vengeance and dedication to "take back" what was his (yikes).

this also set a precedent of people "claiming" the lives of carriers of the hen ichaer

auberon also formed an elven cavalry known as the red riders or wild hunt (dearg ruadhri in ellylon) and he appointed eredin bréacc glas as their commander. the initial purpose of the wild hunt was to travel to different worlds and capture slaves for tir ná lia, although they later became auberon's tool to find and exploit carriers of hen ichaer.

the wild hunt also uses specially trained mages known as navigators to open portals to other worlds, the most notable of these navigators is caranthir ar-feiniel, who doubled as one of eredin's most trusted men.

the aen elle also live a pretty long time, average is around 650 years, so the timelines are kinda hard to keep track of.

notable aen elle include: auberon muircetach, shiadhal, lara dorren, eredin breácc glas, crevan espane aep caomhan macha (aka avallac'h, also an aen saevherne and lara dorren's ex), caranthir ar-feiniel (also avallac'h's foster son), ge'els (the viceroy of tir ná lia), and imlerith (general of the wild hunt)

aen seidhe

put simply, the aen seidhe are the elves that did not leave when the aen elle did

the aen seidhe don't really have a society like the aen elle, they're pretty dispersed across the world. but, there are certain areas the aen seidhe have claimed as their own.

one of these little civilizations is dol blathanna, also known as the valley of flowers. unfortunately, it's not an independent state, as it was conquered by aedirn in the 1150s. however, then-king baldwin thyssen did allow the elves to retain a lot of their cultural identity and live in peace.

dol blathanna includes the village posada and the capital silver towers, which is where filavandrel aén findháil is from. he's that sexy man right there

[ID: photo of white elf man with blonde hair going to his shoulders. he is wearing tattered green robes and is looking slightly to the side with his lips pursed. end ID]

not that anyone cares, but here's him in the hexer. it's not important to the lore or twn it's just fuckin funny

[ID: old man with white frizzy wig. he is wearing a headband that appears to be rocks on a string. he has what looks like a potato sack tied around his shoulders over a green tunic. he is scowling. end ID]

outside of dol blathanna, there aren't really any places where elves can live with minimal human interaction, although the blue mountains are home to a few incredibly powerful elves

side note: dol blathanna is technically part of the blue mountains, but is in the far southern foothills so they're usually treated as separate entities.

the blue mountains are also a natural border dividing the northern kingdoms from the far east, and where filavandrel went to live after he got fed up with dol blathanna.

they're also the home of ida emean aep sivney, who's also an aen saevherne and future member of the lodge of sorceresses.

next season, we're going to meet the beautiful elven sorceress francesca findabair, also known as enid an gleanna (hen llinge for daisy of the valley)

here she is with fringilla vigo (nilfgaardian sorceress) in twn season 2. note that enid is preggers! that's very odd and i will go into detail on it later

[ID: photo of two women walking side by side. the one on the left is black and has black hair in braids going over one shoulder. she is wearing a silver dress with a similarly coloured floor length coat. the one on the right is biracial and has strawberry blonde hair in a braided updo. she is wearing a floor length blue gown with gold embroidery and a metallic brown cloak. she is pregnant. end ID]

enid is crazy interesting and important for the story of the witcher (and confirmed for season two!), so i won't go too in depth about her now

as i mentioned in part 2, nilfgaard tends to favour elves, leading to a lot of militaristic forces allied with nilfgaard. most notably, the scoia'tael, or squirrels. the scoia'tael are an incredibly ruthless and effective nonhuman guerilla force, generally divided into commandos, units that patrol a given area and eliminate the northern (or simply human) threat.

there are a lot of scoia'tael, so i'll just give you the commanders for now: angus bri cri, coinneach dá reo, iorveth, isengrim faoiltiarna, riordain, and toruviel.

you might remember toruviel as this sexy angry lady from twn, and she is possibly going to get a much bigger role later... pay attention to toruviel.

[ID: young elf woman with white skin and red hair tied over her shoulder. she has a bloody nose and is wearing a light green top with a dark brown leather studded belt. her belt is also around an olive green coat. she looks quite angry. end ID]

the scoia'tael were very well organized, but also quite dispersed, so when nilfgaard needed more specific tasks done, they would assemble specific military units (usually led by some of our favourite squirrels)

the vrihedd brigade was the most important of these units. they were especially notorious for their cruelty in the second northern war, so i'm sure we'll meet at least a few members next season.

their leader was colonel isengrim faoiltiarna (aka the iron wolf), and his officers coinneach, iorveth, riordain, and angus.

francesca findabair is not directly involved with either the scoia'tael or the vrihedd brigade, but she does work quite closely with them very often.

also important to note that not all scoia'tael are aen seidhe elves, most (including all higher ranking commanders and officers) are, but there are a number of nonhumans including dwarves and halflings.

unfortunately, the aen seidhe are slowly going extinct, both from years of genocide from humans and their slow reproductive cycles (elves live a Long time, but can only have children towards the beginning of their lives)

that's why it's so surprising to me that enid is preggers! we don't exactly know her age, but by my calculations she was over 150 in twn (pretty far past the age elves can have children).

because of this, elves are pretty divided between fighting against human rule and seeking coexistence. there are arguments for both camps, mainly that humans are colonizers and should not be trusted for the former, and that elves are dying out already and need to live with humans to survive for the latter.

the most prominent stand for the fight was in the 1060s when an aen seidhe named aelireen led an uprising against humans. most of the elders told her that it wouldn't end well, but she didn't listen and led hundreds of young elves into battle. it was an utter massacre, and basically all elves who could have children died.

yikes

unfortunately, the movement for coexistence was just as unsuccessful. it was led by our man cregennan of lod, lara dorren's husband. the poor simp just wanted to live in peace with his wife, but a lot of humans thought he was a traitor because he married an elf, and he and lara were murdered in 1137 in redania.

the last real push for independence was with the formation of the scoia'tael in the 1260s. I say 1260s because the very beginnings of the scoia'tael were right around 1262-1236 (the start of ciri's timeline) but they became majorly important around 1267. although, even the scoia'tael realized they needed humans to survive and began working with nilfgaard.

however, some scoia'tael are less keen on being nilfgaard's attack dogs, leading to further division amongst the aen seidhe.

black seidhe

remember the elves i talked about in part 2 as being the ancestors of the albans? this is them!

the black seidhe are native to the south, more particularly the valley around the alba river. they are practically extinct, but the nilfgaardians carry a lot of their cultural identity in the nilfgaardian language, a variation of hen llinge.

aen woedde

the wood elves, or aen woedde, is the elven culture we know the least about, they primarily live in the areas around nilfgaardian forests and speak hen llinge.

the only notable wood elf is aenyeweddien, or iskra, a member of the rats, a gang of semi violent youths in the northern realms. we'll learn more about the rats in future seasons.

tl;dr: elves, especially the aen seidhe and aen elle cultures, make up a large part of witcher lore. they are most notable for their long lifespans, magical and historical knowledge, and militaristic alliances with nilfgaard.

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