#Castle: Future Fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arilevenatz · 24 days ago

Text

Royally Bound

Pairing: Prince!Seonghwa x reader

Genre: Arranged marriage au, fluff (omg so much of it)

Word count: 10k

Warnings: none :)

AN: Get ready to be bombarded with the most gentleman of gentleman Seonghwa. Omg he is so sweet to mc. I wrote this solely because I had a thought of ONE scene from this and I wrote an entire fic based on it. And don't forget to like and reblog pls it motivates me to write more!!!

In the heart of the flourishing kingdom of Eryndor stood a grand castle, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens as if to touch the very stars. Within its walls resided the royal family: King Park, a wise and benevolent ruler; Queen Park, a graceful and compassionate woman; and their only son, Crown Prince Park Seonghwa.

Prince Seonghwa was the embodiment of strength and discipline. His cold, straightforward demeanor had earned him a reputation as a strict and unyielding leader. While some whispered of his severity, the majority of Eryndor’s people revered him. For though his words were sharp and his judgments firm, his actions always spoke of his deep love for the kingdom.

Each morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the castle windows, Seonghwa would rise, his mind already set on the day’s duties. From overseeing military drills to attending council meetings, his meticulous nature allowed no room for error. He walked the castle halls with a commanding presence, his dark eyes scanning every corner, every detail, ensuring that everything was in its rightful place.

Despite his stern exterior, Seonghwa’s heart was one of quiet devotion. He spent hours in the castle library studying the histories of past kings and queens, seeking wisdom to guide his future rule. He visited the kingdom's towns and villages, speaking to the people not with flowery words but with a genuine desire to understand their struggles.

Even in the grand halls of the castle, where the kingdom’s most influential figures gathered for meetings and important events, Crown Prince Seonghwa was a figure of quiet authority. Draped in royal attire that reflected his status, he sat at the long, ornate table, his posture impeccable, his expression unreadable.

Unlike many who sought to fill the air with their voices, Seonghwa remained silent, his sharp eyes observing every gesture, every word exchanged. He spoke only when addressed directly, and even then, his responses were concise and precise, like arrows hitting their mark.

At times, his silence unnerved those around him. Ministers and advisors would glance at him nervously, uncertain of what he might be thinking. Yet, when he did speak, his words carried such weight and clarity that they often silenced the entire room.

During a particularly heated council meeting, where arguments about the kingdom’s trade policies had reached a crescendo, Seonghwa had remained still, his gaze shifting between the quarreling parties. Finally, when the king himself turned to him for his opinion, Seonghwa’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Trade benefits the kingdom only when it is fair and sustainable,” he stated coldly. “If you cannot negotiate terms that protect Eryndor’s interests while maintaining alliances, then perhaps someone more capable should handle the matter.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present. Though his tone was devoid of anger, his bluntness left no room for misinterpretation. The advisors exchanged uneasy glances, while the king nodded, a faint smile of approval gracing his lips.

At royal banquets and celebrations, Seonghwa’s presence was equally commanding, even though he rarely indulged in pleasantries. While others mingled and exchanged smiles, he stood by the sidelines, his watchful eyes scanning the room for anything amiss. When addressed, he responded with the same measured calm, his words carrying a sense of purpose that few could match.

The people of Eryndor often whispered about his reserved nature, some calling it aloofness, others seeing it as strength. But whether feared or admired, there was no denying that Crown Prince Park Seonghwa was a man of unwavering discipline and control, a leader who valued action over words and results over empty promises.

The grand dining hall of the castle was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of Eryndor’s storied history. The royal family dined in silence, the clinking of silverware the only sound until Queen Park, with her ever-graceful demeanor, broke the silence.

“Seonghwa,” she began, her voice gentle but firm, “your father and I have been discussing a matter of great importance.”

The Crown Prince, seated at the head of the table, set his goblet down with practiced precision. His dark eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression as composed as ever. “Pray, speak your mind, Mother.”

The queen exchanged a brief glance with the king before continuing. “It is time, my son, for you to consider a union. The kingdom requires a future queen, someone to stand by your side and share the burdens of rule.”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, his posture unyielding as his gaze shifted between his parents. “Is that so?” His tone was measured, devoid of enthusiasm. “I was under the impression that my duties as Crown Prince were quite sufficient without the added endeavor of courtship.”

King Park sighed, his deep voice resonating through the room. “It is not merely about duty, Seonghwa. A union strengthens alliances, fortifies the kingdom’s position, and, dare I say, may bring you some measure of solace in the years to come.”

“Solace,” Seonghwa repeated, a faint trace of irony in his voice. “How poetic. Yet I see no such necessity. The kingdom flourishes, the council obeys, and the people prosper. What more is required?”

Queen Park’s serene expression faltered ever so slightly. “A ruler cannot stand alone forever. You may not see the need now, but in time, you will.”

For days thereafter, the subject lingered like an unwelcome guest, the queen and king broaching the topic at every opportunity. Seonghwa, however, remained steadfast in his reluctance, deflecting their attempts with a mastery born of his disciplined nature.

But even the most resolute walls crumble under relentless tides. On the morning of the seventh day, Seonghwa finally relented, though his disinterest was plain for all to see.

“Very well,” he said, his voice as cold as the winter wind. “If it shall grant me relief from your incessant nagging, I shall meet this woman you have selected. But let it be known, I do this not out of desire, but out of obligation.”

Queen Park’s face lit up with a hopeful smile, though she knew better than to voice her triumph aloud. “You shall not regret it, my son. We have known the Hwang household for a while now.”

Seonghwa rose from his chair, his movements deliberate and measured. “We shall see, Mother,” he replied, his tone carrying the faintest edge of skepticism. “Though I pray you do not expect me to feign interest where there is none.”

With that, he left the room, his long cloak trailing behind him, the echo of his boots fading into the distance. The queen sighed, her heart a mixture of relief and concern. For while her son had agreed, his heart remained as untouchable as ever.

The Hwang household was one of great renown in the kingdom, its name carrying a legacy of loyalty and service to the royal family. Your grandfather, Hwang Taejin, had been the closest confidant of King Park when he ascended the throne, forging a bond that still tied the two families together.

As the youngest daughter, you were the quiet shadow amidst your lively siblings. Your eldest sister, Hwang Seoyoon, was the pride of the family—a graceful woman of charm and poise, admired by many. Your brothers, Hwang Jinhyuk, Hwang Minseok, and Hwang Daehyun, were no less impressive: boisterous, ambitious, and ever eager to showcase the family’s brilliance to the world.

And then there was you.

While Seoyoon spent hours selecting gowns and jewels, and your brothers busied themselves with their social engagements, you preferred the solace of your room or the quiet corners of the garden. Your straightforward nature often set you apart; you had no patience for flowery words or pointless chatter. When spoken to, you answered with blunt honesty, a trait that earned you both admiration and exasperation in equal measure.

“Honestly, you’re hopeless,” Seoyoon often sighed, fussing over her reflection in a gilded mirror. “How can you expect to make a good match if you refuse to step outside?”

“Who says I expect to make a match at all?” you would reply, your tone calm but unyielding.

Jinhyuk, the eldest of your brothers, was no less persistent. “You’re the youngest. People expect you to be lively and charming, not... whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely in your direction.

“Then people are fools for expecting anything at all,” you would counter, much to his chagrin.

Minseok and Daehyun, the middle brothers, often tried to coax you out of the house with promises of excitement. “Come, little sister,” Minseok would say, his grin infectious. “There’s a festival in the town square. You’ll love it!”

“No,” you replied curtly, not even glancing up from your book.

“Just once,” Daehyun chimed in, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re wasting your youth locked away in here.”

“Better to waste it in peace than to squander it in nonsense,” you retorted.

Your parents, while loving, were equally puzzled by your reluctance to engage in the vibrant social life your family cherished. “You are a Hwang,” your mother reminded you one evening. “With that name comes responsibility. You cannot hide away forever.”

But you didn’t see it as hiding. To you, the world beyond your home was a noisy, chaotic place, and you found no joy in it. The garden, the library, the quiet evenings by the fire—these were your treasures, and you saw no reason to trade them for the fleeting pleasures your siblings pursued.

Unbeknownst to you, however, your life was about to be entangled with the royal family in a way you could never have anticipated.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows of your room as you sat in your favorite corner, a thick book resting in your lap. The quiet rustle of pages was soothing, a rare moment of peace in a household that was anything but.

Your eldest sister, Seoyoon, had made herself comfortable on the chaise near the window. She was in the midst of a long-winded tale about the latest fashions in court, her voice animated and full of excitement. You, however, barely glanced up, too engrossed in the intricate story unfolding in your book.

“And then Lady Eunhwa had the audacity to wear the same gown twice in one week!” Seoyoon exclaimed, placing a dramatic hand on her chest. When you failed to respond, she huffed, her voice turning teasing. “Are you even listening? Or is that book more interesting than my tales?”

“Far more interesting,” you replied bluntly, not looking up.

She clicked her tongue in exasperation but continued regardless. “Oh, by the way, two of the king’s guards came by today.”

At that, your eyes flickered up from the page, though only briefly. It wasn’t unusual for members of the royal household to visit. After all, the king favored your father greatly, treating him almost like a younger brother. The king, slightly younger than your late grandfather, had become close to your family over the years, especially as your father had grown into a trusted confidant.

“It’s hardly news, unnie,” you said, turning a page. “The king’s guards have been here countless times before.”

“Yes, but they don’t usually come with such a formal air,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I overheard Father speaking with them. It seems they were delivering a message about... well, something rather important.”

You raised an eyebrow, finally giving her your full attention. “Important how?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the mystery,” she said coyly, though you could tell she was itching to share. “But I will say this—it has something to do with Prince Seonghwa.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, you frowned. “Why would anything involving him concern us?”

Seoyoon leaned closer, lowering her voice as if she were sharing a secret. “The relationships are a bit tangled, don’t you think? The king was close to Grandfather, but he had Prince Seonghwa later in life. Meanwhile, Father had us all when he was still quite young. It makes the royal family feel less like distant rulers and more like... well, extended relatives.”

“Relatives who happen to rule the kingdom,” you muttered, shutting your book with a quiet thud. “What exactly are you trying to say, unnie?”

She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “I’m saying, little sister, that perhaps this visit wasn’t as routine as it seemed. Perhaps you should start paying more attention to the world outside your books. You never know what might be coming your way.”

You stared at her for a moment, trying to decipher her meaning. But when she simply rose from her seat with a graceful shrug and left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of unease. Whatever the king’s guards had come for, you had a sinking feeling it would disrupt the quiet life you so fiercely cherished.

When Crown Prince Seonghwa learned of the arrangements his parents had made, he stood in the vast study of the royal palace, his arms crossed behind his back as he gazed out of the towering windows. The distant sound of the bustling kingdom below barely registered in his mind.

“So, it is the youngest daughter of the Hwang household,” he said aloud, his tone carefully neutral, though there was a faint trace of hesitation in his voice.

Queen Park, seated gracefully by the hearth, nodded with a small smile. “Indeed. Youngest of Hwang. A quiet young lady, from what I have gathered. She is much unlike her siblings, preferring solitude to society. A curious match, I admit, but one worth considering.”

Seonghwa turned to face his mother, his expression calm but his thoughts clearly at war. “The connections between our families are... unusual, to put it plainly,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Her grandfather, as you know, he and Father shared a bond that went beyond mere loyalty. But then there’s her father—he’s younger than father, yet he married and had children before he did. My father married late and had me even later. That’s a strange difference in timing and position, don’t you think?”

He sighed, pacing slowly as he spoke, his thoughts almost unraveling as he considered the oddities of the situation. “The generations between us are not just tangled—they’re almost mismatched. It’s a contrast of decisions, timing, and expectations that’s hard to ignore.”

He glanced at his mother, the faintest trace of doubt in his eyes. “I understand the deep affection for the Hwang family, especially given the history with my father and her grandfather. But I wonder if that admiration has made him overlook how strange these connections really are. It’s a lot to consider in something as important as marriage.”

The queen chuckled softly, though her gaze was steady. “You speak as though this is of great consequence. The ties between our families have always been strong. Surely you understand why your father holds them in such high regard.”

Seonghwa exhaled, his brow furrowing slightly. He did understand. The Hwang family had been pillars of loyalty and wisdom for decades, their contributions to the crown invaluable. The late Hwang Taejin had been more than a counselor to King Park—he had been a brother in spirit, if not in blood. And even now, the king's fondness for the Hwang household was evident in every interaction.

Still, the prince could not shake his reservations. “I do not question their loyalty or merit,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “But I see little reason to entangle myself in such matters simply because of sentiment.”

“You agreed to meet her, Seonghwa,” the queen reminded him gently. “It would do you well to approach this with an open mind. Who knows? Perhaps you will find her company agreeable.”

Seonghwa gave a faint, almost imperceptible scoff. “Agreeable,” he echoed. “I have little need for agreeable company, Mother. What I require is a partner of intellect, strength, and understanding. If she possesses these qualities, then perhaps this meeting will not be entirely futile.”

“Fate has a way of surprising us,” the queen said softly, rising to her feet. She placed a hand on her son’s arm, her expression a mixture of hope and fondness. “Give her a chance, Seonghwa. That is all we ask of you.”

The prince nodded curtly, though his mind remained conflicted. He was no stranger to duty, but this arrangement felt... complicated. And yet, as much as he might resist, he could not entirely ignore the deep respect his father held for the Hwang family. If nothing else, he owed it to the king to see this through.

As he returned to his chambers later that evening, Seonghwa allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. Her name lingered in his thoughts, an enigma wrapped in his family’s history. He resolved to meet her with the same quiet strength and scrutiny he approached all things—but he would not let sentiment cloud his judgment.

For a man as steadfast as Seonghwa, the prospect of meeting someone new, especially under such circumstances, was a challenge. But little did he know, the meeting would test him in ways he had never anticipated.

The soft afternoon light filtered through the window beside you, casting warm patterns on the wooden floor. You were curled up in a small nook by the window, a quiet corner of the house that you had claimed as your own. The garden beyond the glass was lush and vibrant, its blooms swaying gently in the breeze. It was a peaceful sight, one you often sought solace in.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, and you sighed quietly, already bracing yourself for the disruption. Moments later, Seoyoon and Minseok burst into the room, their faces alight with a mixture of excitement and intrigue.

“Y/N,” Seoyoon began, her voice sing-song as she made her way toward you. “Have you heard what Father’s been planning?”

You didn’t look up from your book, your tone flat as you replied, “I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless of whether I have or not.”

Minseok laughed, plopping down onto a nearby chair. “She’s as blunt as ever,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’ll want to hear this, little sister. It’s about the royal family.”

That caught your attention, though you didn’t let it show. Keeping your eyes on the page, you said evenly, “What about them?”

Seoyoon perched herself on the edge of the table, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Apparently, Father has been talking with the king. And do you know what they’ve decided?”

You glanced up at her, your expression unreadable. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

“They’re planning for you to meet the Crown Prince,” she said, her voice dripping with glee.

You blinked, the words hanging in the air for a moment before you set your book down. “Why?”

Minseok leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? The king and Father have always been close. And with the prince needing a bride, it seems Father thinks you might be a good match.”

Your gaze shifted between your siblings, your mind working to process this sudden revelation. “And no one thought to ask me what I think about this?”

Seoyoon laughed, a melodic sound that made your irritation spike. “Oh, Y/N, you always act as though you have a choice in these matters. This is about duty, about family. You should feel honored.”

“Honored,” you echoed, your tone dry. “To be paraded in front of a man I’ve never met, all for the sake of politics? Forgive me if I fail to see the appeal.”

Minseok held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re just the messengers, little sister. If you have complaints, take them to Father. But I doubt it’ll change anything.”

You turned your gaze back to the garden, your thoughts swirling. The idea of meeting the Crown Prince—a man whose reputation for coldness preceded him—was far from appealing. But you knew your father well enough to know that his mind was likely already made up.

“Lovely,” you muttered under your breath, picking up your book once more. “This is exactly how I wanted to spend my time.”

Seoyoon grinned, patting your shoulder as she stood. “Cheer up, Y/N. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

As Seoyoon leaned in closer, her grin widening, you sighed and finally closed your book, resting it on your lap. You turned to her, your tone as dry as ever. “Aren’t you married, Seoyoon? Why are you here, meddling in things that don’t concern you? Shouldn’t you be at your own home, managing your household?”

Seoyoon gasped, placing a hand over her chest as though you’d struck her. “How cruel, Y/N! Is this how you speak to your poor elder sister who only wants the best for you?”

“You’re hardly poor, and your meddling is far from helpful,” you retorted, arching an eyebrow. “Go home, Seoyoon. Surely your husband must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

Seoyoon pouted theatrically, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “For your information,” she said, drawing herself up with mock dignity, “my work at home is complete. Everything is running perfectly, and my husband is away on business for a while. So, I’ve decided to grace this house with my presence for a couple of weeks.”

You groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Wonderful,” you muttered under your breath. “Just what we all needed.”

Minseok laughed from his seat, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You should be glad, Y/N. Seoyoon’s here to keep you company. Isn’t that nice?”

“Thrilling,” you deadpanned, leaning back against the nook. “Exactly what I wanted—unsolicited company and unsolicited plans for my life.”

Seoyoon reached out and ruffled your hair in a way that only an older sibling could get away with. “Oh, come now, Y/N. You’ll thank me someday for my wisdom and guidance. Just wait and see.”

You swatted her hand away, glaring at her half-heartedly. “I highly doubt that.”

As she and Minseok shared another laugh, you sighed and picked up your book again, silently bracing yourself for the chaos her extended stay would undoubtedly bring.

The warm glow of the evening lanterns filled the dining hall as your family gathered for the evening meal. The atmosphere was lively, with Seoyoon chatting away about her plans for the week, Minseok teasing her, and your other brothers laughing at their antics. You sat quietly at your usual spot, focused on your plate, letting the noise of the room wash over you.

As the meal was nearing its end, your father cleared his throat, a sure sign that he had something important to say. The room quieted almost instantly, everyone turning their attention to him.

“I have news to share,” he began, his tone steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach sink slightly. “The king and queen, along with the Crown Prince, will be visiting our household in three days’ time.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before they fully registered. Your siblings exchanged surprised glances, and Seoyoon’s face lit up with excitement. You, however, frowned, your grip tightening on your utensils.

“To what purpose?” you asked, your voice calm but edged with suspicion.

Your father met your gaze, his expression firm yet warm. “They are coming to formally meet you, Y/N, and to discuss the arrangements for your marriage to the Crown Prince.”

The room erupted in chatter—your brothers asking further questions, Seoyoon clapping her hands in delight—but you felt as though the ground had shifted beneath you.

“Marriage?” you repeated, your tone sharper now. “And when, exactly, were you planning to inform me of this?”

Your mother, who had been quiet until now, placed a gentle hand on your father’s arm and smiled at you. “Y/N, we knew you’d react this way, and we didn’t want to burden you with unnecessary worries before everything was set.”

“Unnecessary worries?” you echoed incredulously, setting down your utensils with a clatter. “You’re discussing my marriage—my future—and you didn’t think I should have a say in the matter? Or even be informed before decisions were made?”

Your father waved a hand dismissively, his tone remaining calm but final. “This is not something for you to worry about, Y/N. The king himself has chosen you, and this is a great honor for our family. Everything has been decided with the best intentions for you and for us all.”

“But—” you tried to protest, only for Seoyoon to cut in, her voice bright and eager.

“Oh, Y/N, stop being so dramatic! It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about! What more could you possibly want?”

You shot her a glare but bit back your retort, knowing it would be futile. Looking back at your father, you tried one last time. “I only wish I had been told sooner. Surely I deserve that much.”

“Y/N,” your father said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are my daughter, and as part of this family, you must trust that we have made the right choice for you. The matter is settled.”

You sank back in your chair, the weight of their words pressing down on you. Around you, the conversation quickly shifted to the preparations for the royal visit, your family buzzing with excitement. But you couldn’t shake the frustration and unease bubbling within you.

You sat quietly, your appetite gone, staring down at your untouched plate as their voices grew distant in your mind. The life you cherished—the quiet, predictable solitude—was slipping away, and no one seemed to care.

The day the royals arrived, the Hwang household was bustling with activity. The servants had been working tirelessly to prepare the house, and your family was dressed in their finest attire. You stood near the back of the receiving room, watching as your parents greeted the king, queen, and the Crown Prince with warm smiles and formal bows.

When they entered, Prince Seonghwa's presence was immediately commanding. Dressed in a perfectly tailored royal suit, his sharp features and cold demeanor matched everything you had heard about him. He was polite but distant, exchanging pleasantries with your father and siblings, his tone measured and precise.

You, however, remained quiet, answering only when directly addressed, and even then, your responses were curt and to the point. The rest of your family, particularly Seoyoon, made up for your lack of enthusiasm with their excitement and chatter.

After a lengthy discussion between your father and the king about the arrangements, your mother approached you with a pointed look and said softly, “Y/N, why don’t you and the prince have a private conversation? Get to know each other.”

You wanted to protest, but before you could, Seoyoon nudged you forward with a teasing smile. Reluctantly, you followed the prince to the garden, where the air was cooler, and the faint scent of blooming flowers lingered.

Seonghwa walked a step ahead of you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you reached the center of the garden, he turned to face you, his dark eyes scanning your face for a moment before he spoke.

“I trust you find this arrangement agreeable?” he asked, his tone formal and detached.

You gave a polite nod. “If it pleases my family, then it pleases me.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “That is... an expected answer. You speak of duty rather than choice.”

“It seems choice was never part of the discussion,” you replied evenly, your gaze meeting his without flinching.

For a moment, there was silence between you, the distant hum of conversation from the house filling the space. Seonghwa tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I speak when there’s something worth saying.”

A faint flicker of amusement crossed his face, so brief you almost missed it. “An admirable philosophy,” he said. “Though it makes conversations rather... challenging.”

“That depends on who I’m speaking to,” you replied, your tone calm but not unkind.

He seemed to consider your words, his expression softening just slightly. “Fair enough,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I suppose I am not accustomed to people who value silence over unnecessary chatter.”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch between you. The weight of his gaze was palpable, but you refused to shrink under it. Finally, you said, “I’m sure the prince has little need for idle conversation, either.”

This time, his lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But I find myself curious about you, Miss Hwang. You are... different.”

You inclined your head slightly. “Different isn’t always favorable, Your Highness.”

“Not always,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “But sometimes it is necessary.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the quiet garden suddenly feeling more intimate than before. You couldn’t quite read the prince, his every word and movement calculated, but there was a strange sense of understanding in his tone.

Before either of you could say more, a servant appeared in the garden, bowing deeply. “Your Highness, the king has requested your presence.”

Seonghwa nodded once, then turned back to you. “Until next time, Miss Hwang.”

You offered a polite nod in return. “Your Highness.”

As he walked away, you exhaled softly, unsure of what to make of the exchange. Something about the prince unsettled you—not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that left you wondering.

It had been a week since the royals left, and life at the Hwang household had returned to its usual rhythm—at least on the surface. Beneath the calm, preparations for your upcoming marriage were already in full swing, much to your quiet displeasure. You found solace in your little routines, but even that was short-lived.

One crisp morning, as you sat in your usual nook by the window with a book in hand, a servant hurried in with a message. “Miss, the Crown Prince has arrived. He wishes to take you on an outing.”

You froze, the words sinking in. Closing the book slowly, you looked up. “Did he say why?”

The servant hesitated. “No, miss. But your father has already given his approval.”

Of course, you thought grimly. Rising reluctantly, you made your way to the front of the house, where the prince stood waiting. He was dressed impeccably, as always, and his expression was as composed as you remembered.

“Miss Hwang,” he greeted with a slight bow.

“Your Highness,” you replied, offering a polite nod.

“I trust you are ready?” he asked, though his tone made it clear that readiness was not optional.

With no room to argue, you stepped forward, and the two of you were soon seated in a carriage heading toward the nearby town. The ride was silent, save for the occasional creak of the wheels. You glanced out of the window, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

Finally, Seonghwa broke the silence. “I take it this arrangement was not your idea either.”

You turned to him, surprised by his bluntness. “No, it wasn’t. But I assume it wasn’t yours, either.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You assume correctly. It seems our families are quite determined to ensure we... bond.”

“Bonding is difficult when both parties are here against their will,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact.

His smirk grew just slightly. “Indeed. Though I must admit, it is refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t mask their opinions with pleasantries.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “I could say the same, Your Highness. Most people would not dare admit to disliking an arrangement like this.”

“Most people are not in my position,” he replied simply.

The carriage came to a stop, and the footman opened the door. Seonghwa stepped out first, offering you his hand. Reluctantly, you took it, allowing him to help you down. The two of you stood at the entrance to the bustling town square, the lively atmosphere a stark contrast to the tense silence between you.

“This town is known for its markets,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the colorful stalls ahead. “I thought it might be... suitable for an outing.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Was that your idea, or your family’s?”

He paused, his gaze steady. “Does it matter?”

You didn’t answer, instead turning your attention to the market. The two of you walked side by side, the chatter and laughter of the townsfolk filling the air. Occasionally, Seonghwa would point out a stall or comment on a vendor’s goods, but your responses were short and polite.

At one point, he stopped in front of a flower vendor, his eyes scanning the vibrant array of blooms. “Do you have a favorite flower, Miss Hwang?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Not particularly.”

He picked up a small bouquet of white lilies, studying them for a moment before handing them to the vendor. “Then allow me to choose,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

You accepted the bouquet hesitantly, unsure of what to say. The gesture felt oddly personal, and you couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

As the outing continued, the initial stiffness between you began to ease—just slightly. By the time the sun began to set, the carriage ride back was not as silent as before. Though your exchanges were still brief, there was a newfound understanding between you, however faint it might have been.

When you arrived back at the Hwang household, Seonghwa escorted you to the door, his expression as composed as ever. “Thank you for indulging this outing, Miss Hwang. I hope it was not entirely unpleasant.”

You glanced at him, clutching the bouquet of lilies. “It was... tolerable,” you said, a hint of dry humor in your tone.

He inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “I shall take that as a success. Until next time.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you standing at the door with the flowers in hand. As you watched the carriage disappear down the path, you couldn’t help but wonder what the next “arranged” meeting would bring.

You retreated to your room, eager for solitude. You placed the bouquet of white lilies on a small table near the window, their subtle fragrance filling the air as you sat on the edge of your bed.

Moments later, your door creaked open without so much as a knock. Seoyoon stepped in, her eyes immediately landing on the bouquet. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Well, well,” she began, closing the door behind her. “It seems the Crown Prince is quite the gentleman, isn’t he?”

You didn’t look up, reaching for the book on your bedside table. “If you’re here to tease me, save your breath. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, come now,” she said, flopping onto the chair near the window and picking up one of the lilies. “A prince gives you flowers, and you sit here sulking as if it were some great tragedy. Most girls would be over the moon!”

“You’re welcome to them if you’re so envious,” you replied dryly, flipping a page.

Seoyoon gasped theatrically, holding the lily to her chest. “How heartless! And here I thought you might finally soften up a little. Tell me, how did it go? Did he say anything romantic? Or was it all as cold and stiff as you?”

You shot her a glare over the top of your book. “It was... fine. He talked. I listened. That’s all there is to it.”

“‘Fine,’” she echoed, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that? Most people would kill for a chance to speak with him, let alone be courted by him.”

“I’m not ‘most people,’” you replied, your voice flat.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “You didn’t thank him for the flowers, did you?”

Your silence was enough.

Seoyoon groaned, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re hopeless, truly. The least you could do is try to show some interest. He’s the Crown Prince, for goodness’ sake!”

Closing your book with a snap, you fixed her with a level stare. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Seoyoon. I didn’t ask for the flowers, the outing, or the marriage. If he wants to court someone, he can find someone who actually cares.”

Seoyoon sighed, her teasing demeanor softening slightly. “I know you didn’t ask for this, Y/N. But it’s happening, whether you like it or not. You could at least give him a chance. Who knows? He might surprise you.”

You, staring at the lilies with a faint frown, replied bluntly, “He looks like he doesn’t enjoy company himself. This whole arrangement is just as forced on him as it is on me.” You paused, your voice lowering. “I’ve been a burden to all of you long enough. Now, I’ll just be a burden to the royal family instead.”

Her brows knit together, and she crossed her arms, stepping closer to you. “Y/N, don’t say that. You’re not a burden.”

You let out a humorless laugh, finally looking up at her. “Am I not? Everyone in this house pushes me to be someone I’m not. To go out, to socialize, to act the part. And now, I’m being married off to a prince who probably thinks I’m as much of a nuisance as I think this whole situation is.”

Seoyoon crouched slightly so she could look directly into your eyes, her expression unusually serious. “You’re not a nuisance, and you’re not a burden. You’re just... different. And that’s not a bad thing.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for Father, for the family, for appearances. Isn’t that all I’ve ever done?”

Seoyoon’s lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but no words came out. She knew you were right, at least in part. Finally, she placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I won’t pretend to understand how you feel, but I do know this—whatever the reason for this marriage, it’s not because you’re a burden. You’re marrying a prince, Y/N. That means, whether you like it or not, someone sees your worth.”

You scoffed, but your gaze softened slightly. “Or they just see what’s convenient.”

Seoyoon straightened up and shook her head with a faint smile. “You’ll see, Y/N. Maybe he doesn’t look like the warmest person, but I doubt he’s as indifferent as you think. People like him don’t show their cards right away.”

“Or ever,” you muttered under your breath.

“Give him a chance,” she urged one last time, heading for the door. “And give yourself one too.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, you turned back to the lilies, their delicate beauty contrasting sharply with the heaviness in your chest. A burden or not, the path before you had been set. All that remained now was to walk it, whether you liked it or not.

The royal wedding was a grand affair, filled with splendor and elegance that you could hardly process. The intricate decorations, the endless sea of nobles in fine clothing, and the constant hum of polite conversation all blurred together in your mind. Through it all, you remained stoic, performing each ritual with quiet precision.

Seonghwa, as expected, was composed and regal throughout, his every action calculated and perfect. Yet there was something in his demeanor—something almost... softer than you’d expected.

When the final ritual was completed, and the two of you were officially declared husband and wife, the grand hall erupted into applause. You stood there, holding his hand lightly as tradition demanded, your expression unreadable.

It wasn’t until the two of you were seated at the head of the banquet table that Seonghwa’s façade shifted ever so slightly. Leaning closer, he asked in a low voice, “Are you comfortable, Miss Hwang?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “It’s Lady Park now,” you replied, your tone calm.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, yes. My apologies. Are you comfortable... Lady Park?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I am fine, Your Highness.”

He glanced at the feast before you, his voice quiet but insistent. “And the food? Is it to your liking?”

“It’s... more than sufficient,” you replied, unsure how else to respond.

For a moment, silence hung between you as you both turned your attention to the crowd of nobles mingling below. Then, out of nowhere, Seonghwa leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours. “See that man in the green coat near the pillar?” he whispered, his tone conspiratorial.

Your eyes followed his gaze to a portly man with a large mustache. “Yes?”

“That’s Lord Baek. He prides himself on his wine collection, yet he can’t tell the difference between a rare vintage and a common bottle of grape juice. It’s quite the running joke among the court.”

You glanced at him, unsure whether to laugh or remain indifferent. “And you’re telling me this because...?”

“Because,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you’ll hear him mention his wine at least three times tonight. Consider it a test of your patience.”

Despite yourself, a small smile ghosted across your lips. “Noted.”

He nodded, his expression still unreadable but his tone oddly warm. “And over there, by the orchestra—that’s Lady Seo. She once petitioned the court to create a holiday celebrating her dog’s birthday.”

This time, you couldn’t suppress a quiet chuckle. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I am not,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “The petition was, of course, denied.”

As the evening progressed, Seonghwa continued his whispered commentary, pointing out various nobles and sharing tidbits about them. His tone remained calm and steady, but there was a subtle playfulness in his words that made it feel almost like a private game between the two of you.

For the first time, the weight of the occasion felt a little less suffocating. While you remained stoic, you couldn’t deny that his unexpected warmth and attentiveness were... surprising.

When the banquet finally began to wind down, he leaned closer once more, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “I know this is overwhelming, Lady Park, but if it is any consolation, you’ve handled it with grace.”

You turned to him, meeting his steady gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness. Though I suspect you’ve handled it far more times than I ever will.”

He inclined his head slightly, his faint smile returning. “Perhaps. But it seems we’ll be handling it together now.”

The weight of his words lingered as the evening drew to a close, leaving you with an unexpected sense of companionship—however fragile it might have been.

The grand festivities had finally come to an end, and the palace halls grew quiet as the guests dispersed. Servants had escorted you and Seonghwa to the newly prepared royal chamber, its luxurious décor only adding to the weight of the day.

The large room was lit softly by golden sconces and candles, the warmth of the light contrasting with the coolness of your nerves. You stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do or say, your hands fidgeting slightly with the heavy jewelry draped over you.

Seonghwa, ever composed, closed the door behind him. For a moment, he stood silently, observing you with his usual unreadable expression. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a tone that was softer than you expected.

“May I help you?”

You looked at him, startled. “With...?”

He gestured toward the intricate outer layers of your wedding dress and the heavy ornaments adorning your neck and wrists. “With this. I imagine it has been a long day for you.”

You hesitated, unsure whether to agree, but the weight of the jewelry was becoming unbearable. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “If you wish, Your Highness.”

A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he stepped behind you. “Turn around,” he instructed gently.

You complied, feeling his presence close behind you as his hands moved to unclasp the elaborate necklace around your neck. His movements were careful, precise, as though he feared hurting you.

“This must be heavier than it looks,” he murmured, setting the necklace aside on a nearby table.

“It is,” you replied quietly, your voice barely audible.

He moved to the bracelets next, unfastening them with ease. “I imagine it wasn’t easy to wear all this through the day.”

“It wasn’t, but I managed,” you said, your tone as stoic as ever.

“Of course you did,” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Next, his hands reached for the ties of your outer gown, his fingers working deftly to loosen them. You felt the fabric lighten as he removed the outer layer, draping it neatly over a chair.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, stepping back slightly. “It felt inappropriate to summon a maid for this.”

You turned to face him, surprised by his consideration. “It’s fine,” you said softly, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

He inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes studying you for a moment. “You must be tired. You should rest.”

“And you, Your Highness?” you asked, your tone polite but distant.

He smiled faintly, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “I’ll manage, as I always do.”

With that, he stepped away, giving you space to prepare for bed. Though the room was large and luxurious, the atmosphere between you was quiet, almost delicate. As you finally lay down, your mind swirled with thoughts of the day, of the marriage, and of the man who had, against your expectations, shown you an unexpected gentleness.

When Seonghwa finally settled into the space beside you, he didn’t say a word. Yet, the calmness in his demeanor seemed to ease some of the tension in the room. And though you still felt like strangers, for the first time, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. You lay on the grand bed, staring at the ornate canopy above, trying to will yourself to sleep. The day had been exhausting, yet your mind refused to settle. Beside you, Seonghwa’s steady breathing suggested he was equally restless.

Minutes passed in silence before his voice broke through the stillness, low and steady. “You’re not asleep either, are you?”

You turned your head slightly, catching the faint outline of his face in the dim light. “No,” you admitted. “Too much on my mind.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Understandable. Today was... a lot, even by royal standards.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it clearly. “Do you ever get used to it? The expectations, the attention, the... weight of it all?”

“Not entirely,” he replied honestly. “But you learn to carry it differently over time.”

There was a pause, and then he added, “Though I imagine this is harder for you. You didn’t grow up with it.”

You let out a soft sigh, your voice quieter now. “It’s overwhelming. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You’ll find your place. It may take time, but you will.”

You turned to face him, his face now more visible in the faint glow of the firelight. “Why are you being so gentle with me?” you asked, your tone a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

His lips curved into the faintest smile, one corner quirking up. “I’m introverted, not heartless.”

The unexpected honesty in his reply caught you off guard, and for the first time that day, a small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Fair point.”

He lay back down, his voice softer now. “I don’t see the point in making this harder than it has to be. We’re both here because of duty, not choice. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to make it bearable.”

You considered his words, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. “I suppose that makes sense.”

After you murmured your agreement, Seonghwa shifted slightly, turning onto his side to face you. His dark eyes, steady and calm, met yours in the dim light.

“You should sleep,” he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of finality. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will bring its own demands.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the subtle warmth in his voice despite his usual reserved demeanor. “I could say the same to you,” you replied, your tone quieter now.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely visible in the low light. “I’ll sleep when you do. Consider it... a gesture of fairness.”

You didn’t argue, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to look away from him. The firelight cast faint shadows on his face, softening the sharpness of his features. For a moment, you wondered if the man who had seemed so cold and distant all day might have more to him than you had assumed.

“Goodnight, Lady Park,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes lingering on yours for a beat longer than necessary before he closed them.

You hesitated, then finally replied, “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Turning onto your back, you stared up at the canopy once more. But this time, the weight of the day felt a little lighter, and though your thoughts still swirled, the warmth of his words lingered, eventually lulling you into a restless, yet strangely comforting sleep.

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains as you rose, the events of the previous day still weighing on your mind. After breakfast, you were introduced to your lady-in-waiting, a young woman named Eunji. She was polite and cheerful, eager to assist as she began organizing your dresses and jewelry in the royal wardrobe.

As she carefully laid out a selection of necklaces, her eyes lingered on one in particular—a delicate piece adorned with shimmering pearls and intricate goldwork.

“This one is especially beautiful,” she said softly, almost as though she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts aloud.

You glanced at the necklace, then at her. “Do you like it?”

Her cheeks flushed as she quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, My Lady. It’s not my place to—”

You cut her off gently. “If you like it, you can keep it.”

Eunji froze, her eyes wide. “What? No, My Lady, I couldn’t possibly—His Highness would be furious if he found out—”

“He won’t,” you interrupted, your tone calm but firm. “And even if he does, I’ll deal with him.”

She hesitated, wringing her hands as she looked from you to the necklace. “But it’s too valuable... it wouldn’t be right.”

You sighed lightly, picking up the necklace and placing it in her hands. “Eunji, if I say it’s yours, then it’s yours. Consider it a gift.”

Her eyes filled with hesitation, but also gratitude. “My Lady, you’re too kind...”

“I insist,” you said, giving her a faint smile. “Besides, what’s the point of having all of this if it can’t bring someone a little happiness?”

After a moment of silence, she finally nodded, her fingers curling around the necklace. “Thank you, My Lady. I’ll treasure it.”

You gave her a small nod and returned to sorting through the rest of the items. Though you didn’t say it aloud, her joy over something so simple felt strangely fulfilling, a brief reprieve from the unfamiliar world you now found yourself navigating.

Later that afternoon, Seonghwa approached you as you sat in the study, quietly reading through a book. His footsteps were soft, but his presence was impossible to miss. Without preamble, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of curiosity.

“I see you’ve gifted something to one of the servants.”

You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. His face, as usual, betrayed little emotion, but there was no trace of anger there. “Yes,” you admitted evenly. “Are you mad?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “It’s your belongings. Do whatever you wish with them.”

His words were simple, yet they carried an air of reassurance that you hadn’t expected.

He paused briefly, glancing toward the window before continuing. “By the way, I noticed you’ve organized your belongings in my room quite efficiently. Impressive.”

You blinked, your calm exterior faltering just slightly. “Should I... remove them?” you asked hesitantly, unsure if he found the arrangement intrusive.

Seonghwa turned his gaze back to you, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “No,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “This room, this house—they’re yours now. You can do whatever you want here.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just giving you permission to arrange your belongings; he was offering you a sense of ownership, of belonging, in a world that still felt foreign to you.

You nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. “Thank you,” you murmured, returning your attention to your book, though your thoughts now lingered on his unexpected generosity.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything more. He simply gave a faint nod and walked away, leaving you with a strange sense of comfort and the quiet realization that, perhaps, this new life wouldn’t be as lonely as you had feared.

The days in the palace continued, a quiet routine settling between you and Seonghwa, interrupted only by the occasional royal event or meeting. You had grown accustomed to the rhythms of royal life, though the sense of unfamiliarity still lingered in the corners of your mind. The grand halls, the soft whispers of servants, the unspoken expectations—they all seemed so far removed from the life you had once known.

One afternoon, as you sorted through your tasks, you hesitated for a moment before turning to Seonghwa, who was seated at his desk, reading through a pile of royal documents.

“Seonghwa,” you began, your voice tentative, “I was wondering if I could have a little money. I need it for... something.”

He glanced up from his papers, his gaze sharp as always, but this time, there was a trace of something softer behind his eyes. He studied you for a moment, and then, it hit him—the realization that you still seemed uncertain, still hesitant when it came to making decisions, even small ones.

He set down his papers, his voice quieter, almost gentle as he addressed you.

“You still ask for permission, don’t you?” he said, a subtle sadness creeping into his words.

You froze, not quite understanding what he meant. “I... I just don’t want to overstep.”

Seonghwa shook his head, standing up from his desk. “This is your house now. It’s your life, your choices. And,” he paused, walking over to you with a soft expression, “my money is your money. You don’t need permission for anything.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity, as though he were explaining something basic to a child. And for a brief moment, you felt a warmth in your chest—a quiet understanding that perhaps, in his own way, Seonghwa was offering you a sense of freedom, something you had never truly known in this new world.

“You can do whatever you want,” he continued, his voice softer now. “The money, the house, everything. It’s yours. Don’t ask for permission again.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the softness in his tone, the genuine care that laced his words. Slowly, you nodded, the nervous tension in your shoulders easing. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a certain warmth. “You don’t need to thank me for that. I’m just reminding you of something you’ve already earned.”

You felt a strange comfort in his words, the weight of them sinking into your heart. It was a small moment, a simple exchange, but somehow it made this life, this strange new world you were trying to navigate, feel just a little more like home.

For the first time since childhood, since stepping into the palace and the unfamiliar life it held, you felt something you hadn’t realized you were missing: importance. You were no longer just a piece in someone else’s game, a mere addition to a royal family that was bound by duty and expectation. Seonghwa’s words—his reminder that this house, this life, was as much yours as it was his—had cracked open something inside you.

Without thinking, your arms moved instinctively, wrapping tightly around him. His presence, his warmth, and the unexpected kindness of his words had unraveled something deep inside you, something you hadn’t let yourself feel before: a sense of belonging.

Seonghwa froze for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden embrace. His body stiffened, unsure of how to react to the closeness, the softness in your hold. You could feel his breath catch slightly, his posture rigid as though he were trying to figure out whether to push you away or to let the moment pass. But you held on, the need to feel this sense of connection overwhelming any reservations you had.

“I... I’m sorry,” you muttered, realizing only then that you were clinging to him, your face pressed against his chest.

For a long, tense moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you felt thick, as though both of you were holding your breath. Then, slowly, you felt Seonghwa’s arms move around you—hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to the warmth of your embrace. But when he did finally wrap his arms around you, the touch was gentle, almost tender, as though he was grounding himself in this unspoken moment.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured quietly into your hair, his voice low and steady. There was an unfamiliar softness in it, a rare vulnerability that he seldom allowed to show. “You’re not a burden, you know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the knot in your chest loosening. His words, so simple yet so profound, made your heart flutter. You had been carrying the weight of so many expectations for so long, always trying to be what was needed, always trying to do what was right. But here, in his arms, you felt for the first time like you mattered—not for what you could offer, but for who you were.

“I just... I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid to speak the truth out loud. “I don’t know how to navigate this life. It feels... so different.”

Seonghwa’s grip on you tightened slightly, not out of necessity but of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, you know. I’m here. I’ll help you find your way.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and comforting. You didn’t need to say anything more. You simply held on, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade. There were no royal expectations, no duty or obligations weighing down on you. There was just Seonghwa, just the feeling of being held, of being seen.

When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered at your sides, a hesitant gesture as if he weren’t ready to completely release the closeness you had just shared. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of care, an unspoken connection between the two of you that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“You’re important,” he said softly, his voice unwavering. “More than you know.”

And in that moment, you loved this feeling, you believed him.

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fairyhaos · 1 year ago

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OMGG !! can i be added to your 2k event taglist ?? i just read mingyus AND HEKEBESHSN ITS SO GOOD ??? it has to become an entire oneshot/series omg wjsjsbs

AHH HAHA TY!!! and yesss ill add you to the taglist rn <3

#fairyhaos.answers #ask #lockburn-castle #who knows.... i mught end ip making it a full fic jn the future 👀

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ro-is-struggling · 11 months ago

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Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

Do you want to get notified when I post? JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you.

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away.

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders.

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness.

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know.

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him.

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence.

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands.

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts.

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go.

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you."

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?”

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves.

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so.

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right."

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal.

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had.

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear.

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes.

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table.

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died.

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him.

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet."

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain.

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him.

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source.

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up.

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed.

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it.

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him.

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned.

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that.

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you.

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection.

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time.

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body.

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head.

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body. You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you.

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock.

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you.

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible.

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles.

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips.

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him.

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move.

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole."

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock."

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it."

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit.

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had.

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you."

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved.

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you.

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms.

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

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foreverdolly · 11 months ago

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed.

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before.

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother.

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious.

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.”

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger.

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early.

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast.

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free.

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie.

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home.

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar.

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals.

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries.

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed.

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience.

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you.

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress.

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind.

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand.

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you.

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.”

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling.

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you.

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door.

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead.

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you.

“As they have been taught, your reverence.”

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years.

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down.

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.”

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection.

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you.

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful.

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before.

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door.

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you.

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face.

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you.

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?”

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one.

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down.

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting.

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat.

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction.

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight.

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep.

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head.

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.”

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room.

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen.

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful. “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime.

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different?

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different.

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew.

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with.

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing.

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap.

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively.

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face.

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke.

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.”

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for.

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly.

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul.

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted.

“Soon.”

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up.

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation.

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly.

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent.

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better.

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right.

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach.

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence.

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive.

But god, you wanted to live.

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer.

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front.

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression.

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view.

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability.

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd.

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime.

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago.

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you.

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?”

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes.

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side.

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements.

The two of you were communicating.

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?”

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you.

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days.

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child.

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him. He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in.

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother.

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it.

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of.

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves.

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position.

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you.

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin.

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this.

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime.

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge.

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?”

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter.

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing.

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.”

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame.

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir.

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.”

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough.

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?”

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before.

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed.

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain.

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover.

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer.

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying.

Animal, indeed.

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune fanfiction #austin butler fic #feyd rautha fic

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giacarem · 3 months ago

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Fic where, after Arthur has legalised magic but before Merlin has revealed his magic, Arthur hears that a sorcerer named Emrys can see into the future and grant prophecies, and decides to seek him out to ask him about the future of Camelot and Merlin panics

So Merlin tries to convince Arthur the whole time that maybe it’s not the best idea to seek out this apparently all knowing oracle, and what about whether this guy is even real or if he has the abilities in the first place (because as far as Merlin knows, he’s not a seer. Sure, he can see the future if he looks into the Crystal Cave, but it’s not an innate ability like Morgana’s visions)

But Arthur is determined so he takes Merlin and his knights and sets out to where Emrys is said to reside (and Merlin can’t help but think the entire thing is nonsense anyway, because where did this guy get his information from? Merlin very obviously does not live where ever they’re going)

The whole time he’s also thinking about ways to disguise himself once again if he indeed does have to present himself as Emrys to Arthur.

Anyways, they get to the abandoned castle where “Emrys” lives and surprise surprise, it’s an imposter

Merlin is now very angry and annoyed but for totally different reasons

He very subtly tries to discredit or trip up this “Emrys”

Merlin: I thought Emrys was a dragonlord

“Emrys”: Of course I am

Merlin: Then, why don’t you call a dragon?

“Emrys”: Ummmm

Arthur: Merlin, don’t be silly, all the dragons are gone, you were there when it happened

Arthur: Please, Emrys, I seek to know what will become of Camelot under my reign

“Emrys”: A kingdom is only as strong as its leader. There will be times of hardship, but also times of peace and joy

Merlin: Oh please, that’s so vague.

Arthur: Merlin, do not insult the all knowing, all powerful sorcerer

Merlin: So, how do you get your visions? Through sleep? By looking through a crystal?

“Emrys”: It comes to me naturally, like breathing. My magic always has

Merlin: Interesting, can we see some magic?

Arthur: Merlin, we are not here for entertainment

Eventually it’s revealed that this “Emrys” is a fraud and that Merlin is in fact the real Emrys, but then Arthur keeps expecting him to know about the future

Arthur: Merlin, will I die if I go on this quest to slay the beast?

Merlin, gritting his teeth: How would I know?

Arthur: Mm. I guess I just expected the all powerful Emrys to be a little more impressive

#merlin #bbc merlin #fanfic #merthur #magic reveal #merlin emrys #emrys #arthur pendragon

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chipinabag · 8 months ago

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I don't know if this if a fic already but building on that one trope. The one where after arthur dies they ALL get sent back to the day merlin comes to camelot.

That, but merlin is the only one who doesn't know what has happened in the last timeline. (To reverse time has to give up his memories.)

And everyone is acting weird like the prince is glaring at his father and father's ward and is being really nice to me.

The king is keeps glaring at me but everytime he tries to be mean to me the prince just puts his hand on his sword. Gwen my new best friend is trying to set me up with my employer. And I just met these nice (and good looking) men. I think gwaine and lancelot know about my magic. Maybe the king too but I'm not sure since the prince doesn't let him talk to me.

The king's ward is kinda avoiding me for some reason, but she's kinda warming up to me.

The other servant keep treating me like a lord for some reason.

When I went to visit my mother there was a man named balinor who is actually my father and is a fucking dragonlord.

The dragon under the castle is kinda weird, keeps wanting me to bring a sword or something.

I might do something with this in the future, it will take me while.

#merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #prince arthur #bbc merthur

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demonvibez · 8 months ago

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Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath.

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours.

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him.

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap.

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place!

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops!

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork.

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms.

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince.

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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ANOTHER UNDEAD FENTON

Inspiration came from this post by @stars-obsession-pit !

Word count: 1479

Masterpost of Archive Down Fics here.

(I wrote three dp x dc fics based off of prompts I've seen in the last day for reading while the site is getting maintenance. )

There was a high, shrill scream in the Fenton lab.

Maddie bolted for the stairs, abandoning her coffee without a thought. She flung herself down to see Jack bent over a body in front of the portal.

“Is this person a threat?” Maddie prepared to defend her husband, but the body didn't move.

Jack looked up at her. “No, I was just surprised! I think he's hurt, Mads.”

Her bleeding heart husband. She crossed the room and rolled their intruder over to see it was a kid, maybe Danny's age. In his sleep, he had a sweet, soft face. His face and throat were covered in faint scars.

Well. That was one of hers, now. No getting around it. That was a teenage boy on her floor who has obviously been the victim of violence.

“Well, shit,” Maddie said companionably. She blew out air between her teeth. “Dear, would you put clean sheets on in Jazz's room?”

They were running out of space, between the clones and the past evil alternate future children.

Jack saluted her, shouted an affirmation , and bounded away.

Maddie took a moment to wonder if her children would be an infinitely expanding collection and if so, if it would be better to move into Vlad's castle than to build the home addition they had planned for.

She gathered the teenager up in her arms despite him being her size, and laid him out on an exam table. She started checking his vitals.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Maddie said. She redirected her hand to smooth hair behind his ear. He blearily followed the movement, just as obviously intelligent as he was obviously compromised. She didn't know if it was a concussion or drugs or what, but this boy was not well. “It's Friday June 29th, and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm Madeleine Fenton and you're at my house because you fell through a portal. Is there someone I should call for you?”

He stared at her. She could see the moment he decided not to speak to her.

That situation didn't change much all day. The kid walked himself up to bed and peered around at Jazz's old posters. He seemed to want to be alone, but Maddie caught him watching Dani and Dan playing catch in the yard. She made eye contact with him over her book and then looked back at her shrieking kids. Dan was doing flips on the trampoline and launching his sister in the air, catching and tossing her back up in the nick of time between flips.

Their new boy closed his curtains.

“I was thinking about Dante,” Jack said, bringing out a pitcher of iced tea. “Or, how about Jasper! Eh? Eh? You know, like Jazz-per?” Jack belly laughed.

“He probably has his own name,” Maddie said calmly. She'd estimated him at 16 or so, anyway. But whatever. If he wasn't going to give them a name, they did eventually need something to call him. And they needed to sort out accommodation fast, before Jazz got back from her college tour trip.

“Let's go with Jasper until he gives us his real name.” There were enough Ds in her home, honestly.

She lured Jasper out of his room for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and watched them all warily. He only ate what they ate.

Danny arrived mid-meal. “Mom! Dad!” There was a whumpf as he probably threw himself onto the sofa. “We wanna go to Elmerton, that ok?”

“You should take your brother with you,” Maddie called back. “He needs clothes.”

“What?” Danny clearly pried himself up and came into the kitchen. Maddie silently offered to make him a plate. “No, I ate at Tuck's. Dan, what'd you do to your clothes?”

“Nothing, you pathetic worm,” said Dan, who really was a sensitive boy. “I am not the topic of discussion, you blithering fool.” He jerked a finger at Jasper. “New one.”

Danny stared.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He gave a sort of hello nod.

“He's, uh, he's not-”

“Not a clone or alternate future version of you, nope,” Maddie agreed. “Though he did come out of the portal. We wondered if he might be a ghost, but it didn't seem necessary to ask.”

Jasper full body flinched at the word “ghost”, but he looked confused.

Danny squinted at his new bother who, it must be said, did look a bit like a Fenton already. “Not a ghost,” he said after a long pause. “But a little undead. Not sure what kind. But yeah, you're walking dead, buddy.” He clapped Jasper on the shoulder.

“You'll fit right in!” Jack cheered. “Dan is half dead! So is Danno! And so is Dani here! And-”

“Thank you, Jack,” Maddie cut him off. “It might be a sensitive subject, don't you think?”

“Nah,” said Danny, stealing food out of the pan despite saying he wasn't hungry. “We aren't that sensitive. Like-” he looked at Jasper and explained: “I got electrocuted to death in the lab two years ago. Dan is from an alternate future where everyone he loved died, so then he killed everyone else on earth. And Dani is a science experiment baby.”

“It's true,” Dani said solemnly. “I'm a work of science.”

“You make me sound so uncool,” Dan complained, stabbing at his spaghetti.

Jasper laughed for the first time. He himself seemed surprised by the sound. It was hoarse but there was promise there.

When the boys were off at the mall in Elmerton with Sam and Tucker, Maddie called up Vlad.

“You want to come here?”

“I’ve got more kids than I have rooms in my house,” she said wryly. “So if the offer is still open…”

“Yes, of course it is,” he assured her. “But- most of the little ones are still in the Ghost Zone, correct?”

“They're not big enough to leave yet,” Maddie agreed. “Which is why I need to be near a portal.” The ghostlings were staying with the LunchLady and Box Ghost, but they needed to be able to be in touch. “But no, I've got another one.”

Glass shattered in the background. “Another- what happened to Daniel this time?”

Maddie laughed at how flustered her old college friend got. “Nothing to do with Danny, actually, this one fell out of the portal. He's some level of partly dead, but we don't think he's a ghost at all.”

Left unsaid was that they needed to do a lot of research to figure out what other possibilities there were. If they could get into contact with Danny's GP, he might be able to get them on the right track.

“Well.” Vlad took a moment to rally. “When will the family be arriving?”

Two months later, all the kids were pretty settled in.

Jasper had never shared a name, but he was happy to let them call him Jay. He was a phenomenal big brother to Dani. He wrestled with Dan. He bullied Danny into doing his homework. It had been something of an administrative nightmare to get Jaspen enrolled in school, but Vlad had pulled off whatever magic trick he'd done for Dani (applied a lot of money to the problem, Maddie supposed) and Jay had settled in very well.

“Your debut in society,” Maddie hummed, making a point of straightening Jay’s tie. He was growing already, she was sure of it! He was going to wind up as tall as Jack.

“I've been to parties before, Mom,” Jay drawled, and then flushed a dark red that meant he didn't want to be asked questions. Maddie tweaked his nose instead of answering.

“But this is the first one where Vlad's introducing you to his business friends!” She said, already dressed up for a fun night. Vlad had flown them all in on his private jet for the day.

“Queen is a family man as well,” Vlad had said the night before, aiming for calculating and coming off soft. “It will put him off his guard or perhaps make him sick with envy that I have brought a higher quality child than he could ever manage to produce.”

They arrived together, Maddie on Jack's arm, keeping her flock of kids within eyesight as Vlad led the pack. She had a perfect view of Oliver Queen seeing them arrive, the smile dropping off his face, and him choking on his drink. He did look very silly, Maddie had to admit.

“Inept,” Vlad hissed, very pleased. “The fool can't even drink. His company will be mine-” he looked at Danny for some reason. Vlad faltered at whatever be saw. “....Through legitimate business practices, such as buying a majority of stocks,” Vlad weakly finished.

Maddie slapped him on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #another undead fenton

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taintandviolent · 1 month ago

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that which terrifies ; Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a housemaid who is sent away by her employer to an estate nestled deep in the Carpathian mountains. On the first night, your dreams become very bizarre, and you are no longer so sure of your purpose at the Castle.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.7K | female reader, smut, period cunnilingus, vampire coercion, invasion of privacy, scent kink, technically dubious consent and somnophilia (cos Orlok likes to touch when reader is sleeping and it gets a little blurred there), blood mention, decay mention, monsters, vampires,, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering), possession kink.

a/n: I feel like I should apologize in advance because this one feels weirder than my last one. again, you either get it you don't. nevertheless, I hope it is as good! thank you for reading if you do!!! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

With a sharp crack of a whip and a high-pitched whinny, you are alone.

It’s snowing when you arrive. You look back down the pathway, unable to see the carriage any longer; the flurries obscure your vision. The coach that brought you to the looming doors of the entrance is long gone, as is the safety of it. The only sound that can be heard amongst the deafening silence of snow is the fading squeak of hinges and the clip clop of the horses’ hooves as they return home, wherever that may be… far away from this dreadful castle. As you gaze skywards, looking up at the castle, you wrap your shawl around your frail shoulders, shuddering. There is something that roils in your stomach like a malady, twisting and turning your insides until they ache so. Foreboding…

You had been sent here by your employer, a ruthless man who lacked any empathy, only possessed an insatiable greed for fortune. He had requested that you be sent away, to tend to a man who resided deep in the Carpathian Mountains. He had a large estate – a castle in every sense of the word – and needed it maintained. Your darling mother fretted the entire night, feeling as though it was an unwise and dangerous proposition; a young, unmarried woman going into the dark and cursed woods of Transylvania, forced so under the pretenses of mere employment. Though, you had been promised riches. This man, Count Orlok, would reward you handsomely for your duties. Or so it was said.

At first glance, the looming castle provides no welcome, nor does it beckon you inside. Though, the longer you stare, shivering in the snow like a lost child, the more inviting it becomes. As fearsome and ominous as it is, you know that within those stone walls, lies a comfort, a warmth of some kind. Another person to provide company.

With footsteps crunching down into the snow, you approach the doors. Your fist raises to the doors, poised to knock as hard as you can to alert the occupant that you’ve arrived. As you do, your knuckles pounding against the wood but once, both the doors swing open slowly, revealing a grand, but barren, courtyard. White blankets everything, obscuring any foliage that might have greeted you.

“Hello?” Your voice is swallowed up by the snow.

All at once, you hear scampering beside you, accompanied by a huff of breath from something and quickly pivot around, clutching your breast. When you turn back around, you’re met with a startling visual; a tall, intriguing silhouette, stands near another entryway. He’s stock still, the only movement is that of the furs that he wears, which blow delicately in the wind. After a moment, he turns, and disappears into another open door.

“Sir! Please, I beg of thee, wait for me!” Gripping your satchel in one hand and holding your shawl shut with the other, you hurry behind him, praying to get out of the biting cold. He does not wait for you.

Once inside, the castle provides little reprieve. It, too, is bitterly cold; the stone walls have absorbed the chill of the winter and seem to radiate out onto anyone who dares pass by, like long fingers, reaching out to pilfer any warmth that passes.

The staircase is dark, staggeringly so. It curls around a column, trailing ever upwards. He is gone from your line of sight, until you climb the last step, and enter the main room. It is dark, save for a robust fire that consumes the left hand side of the room, drenching it in warmth. Dropping your belongings, you hurry over to it and quickly stretch your palms towards the glow, the heat licking at your frigid fingertips.

Casting your glance over your shoulder, he stands near the table. You hum quietly to yourself, and turn back to the fire.

“Count Orlok…” you start, your voice feeble. You stare at him now, desperately trying to discern his features. Though he is unmoving as he watches you, the shadows which dance across his face obscure him. You swallow. “Pardon my –”

“Thy lord…!” he bellows, startling you. Despite the volume, his voice was low, deeper than any man’s voice. It was almost a growl, carnal and demanding obedience. You dare not defy him, not when he sounds as such. You furrow your brow to the fire, looking deep into the flames to hide your shame.

“My lord,” you started again. “I mean not to offend. I was only going to ask you to pardon my urgency in coming to the fire, I fear I may have caught my death had I been out in the storm any longer.”

“You,” he booms, his voice seeming to vibrate the air around you. He gestures, extending his long fingers towards the table. “...are weak with hunger… eat.”

You glance apprehensively at the expansive feast behind you; fruits, roasted meats, breads. It was enough to satisfy several men. “Are you not… not joining me, my lord? Surely, this is too great for my appetite.”

“…I shall sate myself… later….”

His response serves as nothing but confusion to you, for it is nightfall. Perhaps, you think, you are not accustomed to the habits of the area. You turn your attention back to the table; you are unable to deny the gnawing in your belly, and the enticing aroma of the food calls to your hunger, seducing you with promises of a full stomach, and a delightful, food-induced sleep. You get to your feet and approach one the chair, carefully setting yourself down upon it, smoothing out your petticoats as you do.

Wordlessly, you reach forward, plucking a single piece of fruit from the plate. Its glossy skin glistens underneath the flickering candlelight, and as you bring the succulent fruit to your mouth, its sweet nectar coats your tongue. You hum happily, and savor the taste, rolling it around on your tongue before gnashing it up with your teeth. Next, you reach for the fork that sits at the plate’s edge, and pierce the flesh of a morsel of meat. It’s tender; the prongs of the fork giving way, and the intoxicating aroma of herbs and spices fill your nose.

Though the food is delicious, it does little to distract you from the fact that you’re being watched. The Count sits across from you, his presence an ominous shadow that threatens to swallow you whole. You chew once, twice, and raise your gaze to his. It’s dark and envelops you like an embrace, one you cannot deny.

“My lord,” You say, swallowing the remainder of the meat. “Pray tell, who cooked this delicious meal? I was told that you resided here by thineself, hence your need for a ma–.”

Before you can finish speaking, his words slice through the space between you. “No… more questions. Eat.”

“I was only –”

“Hush now. You are too weary to have such… conversations.”

His words rang true; you were exhausted from the journey and the food was only increasing your fatigue. Now, with a full belly, you felt the first, soothing touches of sleep running its fingers through your tresses, beckoning you closer. You stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear rude in your present company.

“I long to become familiar with you, my lord. I have many questions… but perhaps, I’ll rest…” You say as you wander over to the fire, longing for its warmth once more. You fold yourself to the floor, resting your arms and head on the seat of the ornate wooden chair that sits in front of it. “If only just for a moment.”

With the crackle of the fire lulling you away, it isn’t long before the drowsiness takes you, your form drooping slightly in the chair as you nod off. It is not a restful sleep, however; it is a disturbed slumber, filled with bizarre dreams that feel like waking nightmares.

Shadows claim your body and soul as you sleep, drifting farther and farther away from your consciousness. Slender, phantom fingers graze over your heartbeat, feeling it, tasting it with physical touch, and they graze the fullness of your breasts. Lingering touches chill every inch of your flesh; your neck, between your legs, and along the length of your arms. You dream of being intertwined eternally, though if asked, you couldn’t explain what that meant. Pain, braided with throngs of indescribable pleasure.

You aren’t sure how long you sleep, but awake when the sun’s rays reach through a nearby window. You stretch your limbs as far as they’ll go, the muscles shaking with exertion. Then, unexpectedly, your palm flattens atop a cotton pillowcase, the tips of your toes feel sheets beneath them. A bed. The fire, you think. I fell asleep at the fire. He must’ve carried you to bed in the night – a thought that, while somewhat comforting in its thoughtfulness, concerns you. You remember not the feelings of him cradling you in his arms, carrying you to bed like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. You remember not the feelings of being tucked in like a child, delicate and small. But you remember your dreams.

Pleasures that capture your sleeping body, controlling it so that you thrash and turn on your bed. Long, slender fingers ghosting over your jawline, desperately twitching to pull your mouth into a bruising kiss. The overwhelming scent of Earth, the irony scent of blood, paired with a sickly scent that you can’t place. Stinging pains as the shadow in your room consumes you. Whispers of promises, of ownership, of eternities. Things that you cannot comprehend, but wish to agree to willingly.

Your eyes open fully, having now adjusted to the light. The realization dawns on you; your lewd dreams had been about your new employer, the mysterious man who had only insisted you eat. Knowing not what time it is, you quickly throw the covers from your form, and get to your feet. You’re still clothed, but the buttons on the front of you are peculiarly undone. Your fingers work fastidiously to redo them, before you cross the small room to the door.

Hurrying down the stairs, you return to the once warm dining room, now flush with sunlight, but still freezing. The fire has burned itself out, and the table remains full of food. The meat has likely spoiled, but the fruit and bread… You eye them both hungrily.

“My lord?” You call out into the emptiness as your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. You wait… but nothing comes, no response, nor sound. Satisfied that you are alone, you rush to the table, hurriedly taking up a piece of bread and some of the fruit. You scarf it down in a very unladylike fashion, but no guilt taints your urgency; you’ll need energy to do your duties.

As you chew, you decide to meander some, and still, fail to find the Count. Your exploration yields very little aside from the discovery that this castle looks all but abandoned in the daytime. At night, at least there is a fire in the hearth to tell stories of the living craving warmth, but during the day… It is nothing but emptiness. The castle itself is so vast, so decrepit, that you have a hard time navigating it without feeling like you’re running yourself in circles. Most everything looks the same, and frustratingly, most of the doors are locked, try as you may to enter them. How is one intended to clean if they do not have access?

After several hours of cleaning to the best of your ability; sweeping up leaves and dusting away long abandoned cobwebs that hung in the recesses, you pause to wipe your brow, and in doing so, catch a glimpse of the setting sun. Like an overripe fruit, it hangs heavy atop the silhouette of the castle, and disappears, sinking into the horizon as you watch it. Has it been that long? Or had you originally slept much longer than you’d thought?

Gradually, the castle is submerged in darkness. You hum to yourself, retrieving the rag from the floor and return to the main room. The visual before is laid out as it was the night prior and you are equally as perplexed.

The fire roars once again, and the Count, with his tall, menacing silhouette, stands in front of it. As soon as your foot hits the last step, he turns, gripping his fur coat at the side. His fingers seem to go on forever, only lengthened by his sharp, pointed nails. You bring your hands to your lap, shifting nervously.

“You have been hard at work, I see…”

“I… yes, my lord. Though, most of the rooms are locked. Might I have access –”

“No.” He says lowly, curtly. There is an unsaid warning, discouraging any persistence.

“My lord…” You quiver, fighting against your own nerves. “Might I ask… what is my purpose here then? If not to clean thy castle… why for?”

He is suddenly beside you, his tall frame dwarfing yours. “You will… provide me… company.”

Your heart squeezes within your chest, tight, as though his hand had reached through your skin and gripped it with all his might. The rag drops from your grasp, falling to the stone floor silently.

“I’m afraid I don’t… I don’t understand.”

But you do. You understand that you were sent here under a falsehood, an arrangement disguised as employment. As you recollect, the terms in which you were sent away were very sudden, very demanding and very specific – he had requested a young unmarried woman. You thought it to avoid any incessant mail, perhaps, but realize, the reason is far more personal.

“Fret not,” he says, his fingers reaching up to brush across the warmth of your cheek. They are cold to the touch, frigid even, and you shudder underneath the gesture. His dark eyes suddenly seem to widen, his nostrils flaring. As he inhales sharply, he dips closer to you, his claws reaching towards your clothed hips.

All at once, his long arms wrap around you, seizing you, pulling you into a desperate, hunger-driven embrace. He tastes your flesh, licking from the nape of your neck to the hollow between your full breasts. It is not tender, nor is it heartfelt. It is insatiable, it is dark, yet… your supple frame melts into his grip, allowing him to support your wilting body in his grasp.

You feel the edge of his nails gently caress your body, fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm with their length. Your lids flutter as his mouth nears your ear, his labored breathing hissing into the tight space between the two of you.

Deep between your legs, an incessant want pools. It is hot, greedy, and coils in your stomach like a venomous serpent. Your lids grow heavy with need. Above you, Orlok nears ever closer, dipping down until the bridge of his nose presses into your sternum. He inhales deeply, as though inhaling your very essence. He makes a sound akin to the low, warning growl of a wolf, though it’s tinged with something far more satisfied.

“That which terrifies you….” his full-bodied voice snarls above you, consuming you. “....pleases you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s just done, what provoked such a bold claim from his lips. He had smelled your blossoming state, your throbbing arousal and inhaled deep into the confines of his very lungs. No man has ever done such a thing, and the thought leaves you reeling, shuddering in his grip. Because, you know… he is no man.

“My lord,” you whisper. “I… I…”

“Speak,” he urges, his voice thickened with lust, with hunger. You can feel his breath upon your breast, upon the exposed column of your neck. He nears closer.

“I cannot! My words fail me, my lord… I know not what I speak of… what I feel deep within my chest.”

He growls, considering that for a brief moment, before speaking again. “Your body speaks loud enough.”

With your breath catching in your mouth, you quickly utter your next words. “I think I may retire… early this evening, my lord. I feel faint.”

“If you are… unwell, it would be in your best interest to do so.” His words are strung together so laboriously, punctuated by wheezing breaths and his heavy accent. You swallow again, looking up into his unimaginably dark eyes. There is a hunger there, a flash of something that frightens, but moreso, arouses you, and you gasp, turning quickly on your heels, heading back up the nearby steps. “I bid thee goodnight!”

You run down the corridors as though he is pursuing you. Hunting you. And as soon as you are in the safety of the room that he once carried you into, you shut the door, collapsing against the back of it. You pant, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you cannot ignore the clawing lust that you feel.

You dress yourself in your nightgown, and quickly get into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as though that is some ward, some protection from the shadows which plague you. As before, it is not long before the warmth carries you off to sleep, the comfort of the bed acting as a tranquilizer for your nerves.

The dreams come again, wrapping themselves around your body and cradling you in their enticing embrace. They are heavy, like the weight of a lover atop of you, and they ghost along your legs, trailing along the curve of your thigh. You whimper, taking fistfuls of the sheets.

“I beg of thee… please…” you murmur, sleepily. Still, it is a call, a beckoning, and the shadow in your dream heeds it. Immediately.

You shift, kicking your legs and thrashing your head to the side, whimpering pitiably in your slumber. The sheets are cold and seem to cling to your thighs, bringing you no comfort and do not free themselves when you move your legs. There is a pressure, a pulling deep between your legs. You whine again, bucking your hips. Against something.

Your eyes snap open, your body jerking with unimaginable arousal. The first thing you see is the ceiling, decorated with shadows and uncertainty. The second thing is that your nightgown is pushed up to your waist, exposing your lower half to the chill of the room. The third, and perhaps the most startling, is that Count Orlok is nestled between your thighs, his lengthy fingers gripping your hips tightly, not fazed by the rocking of them as you feel, feel deeply, what he is doing. He pulls you closer, and you immediately feel his cool tongue as it laps at your center. He swallows loudly, wetly, and you immediately smell the harsh, irony scent of blood. As he gulps, you feel an ungodly pulling sensation, as though the essence is being drained from between your legs.

Realizing, you yelp and push your hips into the mattress, pulling his mouth from your cunt with a slick sound. His mouth chases you, but in the second in which the moonlight hits his angular face, you see that the lower half is coated in blood. You wince, and tighten your grip on the sheets. You had heard stories as a child of a mystical, monstrous creature… strigoi, nosferatu, vampyres… many names for one being you’d never thought you’d meet. And certainly not in this way. But you realize, as his mouth hovers over your core, his cool, wheezing breath washing over you, you do not want him to stop. The nerves, the anxiety, it had all been because his aura had captivated you, called out to you like a beacon in the storm.

“Give thyself to me…”

You nod once, unable to hide your true nature. Your hand drifts to his bare, decaying shoulder, urging him back between your legs. Orlok’s tongue snakes out once again, delving deep into your entrance and lapping up the viscous fluid that leaks from it. You nestle back against the pillow, allowing yourself to feel everything, to drown in the sensations. It is unclean, monstrous but you cannot contain your cries, the lascivious sound echoing off the stone walls. Your hips continue bucking into his mouth, your hand gripping his aged flesh with all the power you have left.

He laps at your cunt, starved for the sanguine nectar mixed with your sweet arousal, and your body quivers and shudders with each pass of his tongue. You feel the sharp points of his fangs grazing your swollen clit, a teasing, dangerous feeling. You dig your nails into his cool flesh, pulling him closer still and you feel that serpent return, coiling around itself until it threatens to burst.

“Pl-please… my lord…! I’m… I feel as though I might…!” But he does not relinquish his feasting, nor does he slow.

Your body seizes up, muscles spasming as your back arches desperately, the fire of your orgasm reaches a peak, crashing over you like waves on a shore. Your hips buck violently up into his greedy, hungering mouth, crying out.

Finally, as the pulsing subsides betwixt your thighs, he is above you, lowering himself down upon your breast. His lithe fingers spread apart the pieces of your nightgown, exposing your skin to his waiting mouth. A white, hot lance of pain erupts over your sternum as his teeth puncture the waiting flesh there, the ache sprawling its stinging tendrils down the length of your arms and to your fingertips.

You gasp, your pupils dilating. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you know, unlike anything you’ll ever experience again – a feeling, a craving that only he can sate. The room is filled with your weakening moans and the slick, gulping sound of Orlok as he drinks from you. Your menstruations were not enough, and yet, neither was a singular orgasm. Your hips writhe with a desperate plea, though he is too far buried between your breasts.

A dark cloudiness rings the edge of your vision. No… not sleep. Not now…. I beg of thee…

The world fades from your grasp, like water through thine fingers, the only sensation is that of your skin chilling, paling as he drinks your sweet, warm blood.

“M-my lord…”

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