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b0ba-chan · 4 years

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gentry of hermatige

zhongli x fem!reader

cw slight spoilers, mentions of blood, soft service dom!zhongli, size kink, cunnilingus, slight teasing, over stimulation, fat dick zhongli, unprotected sex, reader passes out, mating press, reader is an adventurer, i also dont know how housing works in genshin so the funeral parlor is homing for employees too

after the passing of the archon morax and the defeat of osial, liyue has never been more busy than before. the lantern rite has made your workload almost triple, running to do additional commisions given out by the guild. you always end up coming back to your home city all haggard and beaten up.

you trudge the trail back, yawning as you go to sit on the edge of the cliff to look over the harbor. taking a break, you rest your sore legs while humming the soft tune you heard a street preformer sing. a glaze lily starts to bloom as the sun sets in the horizon, blooming in your face while shining a vibrant icy blue. by plucking it off its stem, the sweet scent swarms your nose as you are reminded of the scent of the man you see around the wangsheng funeral parlor.

he tends to have a sophisticated aura around him while standing with respectable posture, knowing almost everying that has happened in liyues history. you had done some of his commissions, but he did follow along each time.

zhongli joined you while you did his errands, seemingly odd as he is paying you for something he can easily do on his own. but every time he was around you, he told extravagant stories about the history of liyue and how it came to be. it left you hanging onto every word he says that now, you try and visit whenever you can to see him at the parlor. and whenever you seem like you were going to be a bother, he was already waiting for you with a second cup of tea.

you stare at the flower in hand before wincing at the feeling of sharp pain running up your arm. the bandage wrapping your arm was soaked red which signals that you should go back to the pharmacy and get checked up.

your tired legs drag you back to walking the trail, making way to your destination. but before you can tell where you were heading, you open the front door of the parlor. his eyes were already looking at you, though a client was standing befor him while talking business. you tiredly smile and wave at him, flower still clutched in your hand.

“excuse me,” zhongli politely waves off the client, telling him that he is off work for the day to tend to your needs. before he says anything, he reaches a hand up to your red cheek with a look of concern plastered on his face. his hand lifts your wounded arm to take a look before leading you up the stairwell to his respective room.

once the door closes behind the two of you, it hits that you realize that you have only been his office but never his room. the room glowed a warm amber from the many lanterns that lit up the area.

“little miss, you must be more careful with yourself. the bubu pharmacy would have been a better location to visit than me,” zhongli sighs and sits you down on the cushioned seat. he takes out whatever material he has to clean and heal you up.

your face turns red as he uses his teeth to pull each at the glove off of each finger, gently folding to place them on the table. zhongli removes his coat and hangs it up before taking a seat next to you. his slender fingers undo the wrapping on your arm and gently wipe down your wound. you were too focused on how close he was to you.

you didn’t realize how hard you were chewing on your bottom lip until a metallic taste dribbled onto your taste buds. zhongli looks up after finishing his wrap and watching you touch your bloody lip.

“i barely told you two minutes ago to be careful with yourself,” he huffs out a breathy laugh and places his clean hand on your cheek, thumbing away the blood. it was suffocating how dense his aura is, feeling as if he was going to swallow you whole right there.

“why not take a bath, refreshen a bit. don’t mind if you get the bandage wet, i can always replace it.” his hand comes to rest on the top of your head. you blush and nod, accepting the extra clothing he hands over to you as he ushers you to the bath.

he lets you have your time alone to wash up, letting the hot steam seap beneath your skin. you havent felt a comfort of a bath in what felt like ages. though you have hopped in some clean springs to wash up whatever you could, the warmth of an indoor bath never felt better.

you clear your mind over how flustered you were earlier, it wasn’t like you to act this way around zhongli. he always felt more like a good friend you could just sit around with for a while, but now you felt as if there was tension between the two of you. maybe you were just overreacting and he’s just being kind.

you sigh and hop out of the bath, drying yourself off with the towel he had provided you. after completely dry off, you slip on the loose fitting clothes he had offer you. you find him still sitting at the table, this time with two cups of tea.

“thank you, for taking me in.” you take a seat and smile at him, cheeks still red from the steaming bathroom, and possibly from how he made you blush earlier. zhongli nods and takes a sip from his tea, enjoying the comfortable silence. you didnt realize his eyes were on you while you sipped your tea.

“why is it that, once you finally get a break, instead of taking a rest, you come to me.”

the question took you by shock and if you weren’t speechless then, you definitely are now. turn to look at him and his eyes bore into yours, and they started to look like they were glittering gold, brighter than his usual self.

“i- i don’t know, i’m sorry.” you stutter as you advert your gaze away from him, shying away from his intense stare.

“there is no matter in apologizing, i am simply curious to why you enjoy my presence,” zhongli gently pinches your chin between his index and thumb to force you to look him in the eye, “though i may know why you come to me now.”

it happened so fast - zhongli’s lips were against yours leading you. it was so gentle yet firm, making sure you know he was in charge. you felt almost breathless the way he kisses you; his fingers were still holding your chin while his other hand holds onto your thigh, squeezing the flesh gently. he suckles on your tongue, peaking his eye open a little to see you dazed and flustered.

a trail of spit connects your tongues as he pulls away, retracting his hands as he prepares to apologize. your hands grab his wrists and whine, trying to tug him back.

“don’t go, please. i need more.” you whine, letting your guard down as his eyes grow softer. you were in such a needy state and had made all this way just to join him. so it didn’t take much convincing for him to lift you up and take you to his bed.

you have spent nights camping out, having no time to go back home and rest up. when coming in contact with the silk sheets has you melting in the soft comfort. not only were the sheets were bringing you comfort, but zhongli’s lips could rival the softness of the bed.

he kisses down the column of your neck, nibbling the skin to draw out your pitiful whines. your arms loop around his neck to keep him close, not wanting for you to leave you cold and alone in the bed, but it was evident that he wasn’t going to be leaving any time soon. and there was that familiar scent again; glaze lillies and the hint of silk flowers made it all more comforting.

“is this alright?” zhongli fumbles a bit with your clothes, only to continue when you nod in confirmation. he undoes your clothing, taking every piece off gently as he knew you were still injured. his kisses were placed intricately onnyour skin, making sure to place more gentle kisses on your injuries. you felt rather embarrassed, being the only one half naked, pushing his shoulder gently.

“speak up, you have to tell me what you want.” he pulls away, taking place between your thighs and massaging the soft flesh under his bare hands. your hands reach out to grab at his tie, tugging on the fabric.

“please take it off, please. this is embarrassing.” you whine as your face flush a brighter red. he laughs a bit and undoes his tie, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

“you just had to say so, darling. besides, i would not say no to you.” he shrugs off the rest of his clothing, undoing his pants right in front of you. you stare at his chest, a gold tattoo in a geometric pattern was centered on his sternum. it was as if your hand had a mind of it’s own, coming to touch the somewhat glowing decal. he was warm under your hand, heartbeat thumping normally compared to your own anxious heart. his hand comes to rest on top of yours, pressing it closer to his chest.

“i will explain more on a later date, i know you do enjoy my stories. for now let me take care of you.” his fingers intertwine with yours as he leans down to kiss your inner wrist where your pulse is felt against his lips. you nod, preferring to wait for the story on a later time, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him close.

your feet kick up when you feel his clothed cock presses against you. you can already tell that he was thick as he grinded up against you, drawling out sweet whines out of your mouth. he trail soft kisses down your neck, kissing between your breast and palming them in his hands. his mouth was then met with the heat kf your clothed cunt. though you were separated by your panties, you could feel his hot breath fanning against you.

zhongli looks up at you, silently asking for permission and once you nod, he slips off the panties. tossing it to the side, he hooks your knees over his shoulders and runs his tongue through your folds gently. your eyes widen and your hands were immediately clutching at his hair.

he hums as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. you were already bucking your hips against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably. his hand comes to your mouth and slips his middle and ring finger into your mouth. you moan and suck on them immediately, one hand freeing his hair to grip his wrist.

he pulls away and spits on your cunt, as if you were soaking the bed underneath you already. the hot liquid melds with your slick, running down your cunt. he takes his fingers out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting your lips to the tips of your fingers. cooing at your embarrassment, he slides a wet finger into your cunt.

“a-ah.” you stutter out, gripping the pillows behind you.

“alright, do we need to slow down?” he rubs your thigh lightly, goosebumps growing on your skin under his palm. you shake your head and grind down against his hand to urge him to continue.

he kisses your clit as he continues to tease you with only one finger, trying not to laugh when you whine. you couldn’t even voice out your needs, only squirming under him.

once he finally slides the second finger, it already felt like perfection. he had his lips still attached to your pulsing nub as he scissored you open, curling his fingers a bit and holding your hips down with a firm hand when you get to squirmy. the familiar tight knot was already forming in your core, gummy walls clamping around his fingers as you try your best to grind your clit on his tongue.

he watches with hooded eyes as you ride out your orgasm, even pushing you past the brink to draw tears of pleasure out of your glossy eyes. only when you start to nudge him off he pulls away, looking down at you flustered body and heaving chest as you try and catch your breath.

your eyes wander down his chest as you try to catch your breath, seeing the noticable buldge through his boxers.

“don’t need to worry about me, darling. this is enou-.” before he can finish his sentence you weakly tug at the hem of his boxers, whining.

“no, need you too, please.” you plea, pushing down the clothing. his hard cock slaps his thigh, hanging heavy and hard from watching you lose yourself on his tongue. he doesn't flinch, but you do; you were shocked by his sheer size. you blush and look away when you catch yourself staring, whining when you hear his low chuckle.

“you wanted this, now don’t look away.” zhongli grabs your face to force you to make eye contact with him. he smiles in satisfaction, releasing your cheeks from his grips so you can watch him grab the base of his dick with the same hand. it was obvious that he was bigger than others, thicker than average, but when he slaps his cock gently against your sensitive cunt, it made it all more obvious.

“this little cunt of yours, so small. will you be good and take all of me?” zhongli leans in to whisper in your ear. shivers run down your spine as you whine out a small yes, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

he laughs a bit and positions himself, letting his top nudge at your hole. your breath hitches as he pushes past the first ring of muscle, going tense from the uncomfortable stretch. zhongli knows his size, pausing every once in a while.

he does, however, enjoy how cute you get when he wont hurry up. he sometimes hold his positions for you to adjust because he says he knows what you need. but once he bottoms out, you felt the air knock out of you. your vision goes white as you convulsed under him, thighs tightening around his waist.

zhongli coos as drool dribbles out of your mouth, feeling your walls barely clamp around him. his hand gently pats your cheek, squishing them to shake your limp head. he starts to roll his hips, watching you squirm.

“thats it, good morning, dear.” he smirks as you blink your eyes open. he was trying to hide the fact that he was proud that he made you pass out on him because of his sheer size, but it was evident on his face. you gasp as his tip kisses your cervix, grabbing his shoulder to find some stability.

his thrusts were smooth and slow, letting you adjust to him. but you start begging for more and more, only making him follow your needs. from soft to brutal, his hips were bruising up your thighs with every thrust. you were rendered speechless under him, only squealing when he pushes your knees up, folding you into a mating press.

“sh-shoo deep! t-too deep!” you cry put, clinging to the pillows as he ignores your pleas. he grunts as his bangs cling to his sweaty forehead. your eyes cross and toes curl as hes reaching farther than before.

you couldn’t tell if it was your imagination but you saw a faint golden glow coming from the tip of zhongli’s hair. but it wasn’t the time to think about the cause of light, only having the brain power to go dumb on his cock.

“doesn’t seem like you’re complaining anymore. good girl, i know what yok need.” zhongli growls animalistically, causing you to clamp on him tighter. you squeal and cum once again, squeezing to urge him to cummin you. he groans at the tightening feeling as he releases into you. he continues to thrust to ride out each other’s orgasm, mainly focusing on you. each thrust, more of his cum overflows out of you, making an absolute mess out of each other and the sheets.

you two are panting to the same rhythm, holding onto each other as if it was the the last time you two would see each other. he nudges his nose against yours, pressing a soft kissagainst your lips. you barely could kiss back, letting him do whatever he wanted. he pulls out out of your puffy cunny, flipping over onto his back to hold you to his chest.

“maybe it was the best idea to visit me instead of the pharmacy, my cure seems to be better than anything baizhu could come up with.” zhongli laughs a bit, grabbing your wrist before you could playfully slap his chest. he holds you close for a while, hair still glowing but dimming down as the mood dies down.

“zhongli wha-.”

“how about i explain this all while we take another bath. this slimy feeling is bringing back horrid memories, lets wash up.”

#boba!post #boba!gi #boba!zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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The Moon Spirit - One

Dorian x reader (throne of glass) (future fenrys x reader)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 4.5k

a/n: ahhhhh I’m finally writing this!! This has been in my head for so long now so I’m so glad I’m finally getting it down and I’m really excited to develop it further and possibly go into some poly!dorianxfenrysxreader but that shall all be revealed soon lmao, pls comment and let me know your opinions and theories and shiz it always makes my day!!!

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“Wake up.” You felt insistent tapping on your forearm, groaning as you shook it off, turning onto your side and burrowing deeper into your soft duvet. “C’mon wake up princess,” your brain barely registered Dorian’s whining as you groaned in return, throwing and arm out behind you and batting at his firm chest.

“Go away.” You moaned as you felt a firm body land on top off yours. Dorian pressed his face in between your shoulder blades as his arms wormed their way beneath your stomach, warm fingertips massaging the skin of your belly as you cracked open an eye, albeit reluctantly.

“I have to say all those lessons in ladylike manners sure paid off.” You heard Chaol’s sarcastic voice and turned your head just enough to glare at him as well as he sat comfortably on the armchair next to your fireplace.

“I also have lots of lessons in stabbing rude boys, shall I demonstrate those,” you grumbled, flipping him off before shaking your clingy boyfriend away, sitting up in bed and glaring at both of them as they laughed at your disgruntled expression. “What do you want and why are you waking me up?”

“Well, my love,” Dorian moved behind you to gently start brushing your hair as you hummed in delight at the attention, both of you ignoring Chaol’s eye roll, “It is your birthday isn’t it?”

“So you choose to torment me?” you asked as Dorian stood again, smiling at you boyishly as he moved around your room, tidying away clothes.

“Well seventeen is a big one,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and Chaol moved to translate as you stood and made your way to your bathroom where a bath had already been run for you, the hot water smelling of expensive soaps and salts.

“We have to make appearances today, and there’s a ball tonight.” Your shoulders slumped as you realised what your day entailed.

“Appearances?” you gave your friend a pleading look, but he just shrugged his shoulders sympathetically.

“Carriage through the city, the whole point in the public seeing you so much is to dampen any threat of revolution and they haven’t seen the two of you together recently. Your birthday is as good a time as any.” The older boy explained as your dark-haired prince moved closer to you, wrapping his arms tightly around you and kissing your head.

“I know it sucks princess, but if we make the rounds this morning, we’ll have all afternoon to ourselves before the ball.”

“I don’t like being a show pony.” You grumbled as the familiar frustration prickled behind your eyes, tears forming on what was supposed to be a happy day for you.

Chaol and Dorian averted their gazes at your words, both feeling a deep sense of guilt over something they truly couldn’t control. You had spoken of this before, only in confidence to them; Dorian the love of your life and Chaol alike a brother to you, you had told them how you felt like a toy, a shiny thing for the king to display, waved around in front of the public until you were drained, and they were putting artificial colour onto your face. You had once described it as being alike a corpse in makeup, dragged around for others entertainment as you slowly rotted and decayed until you were unrecognisable.

“I’ll be there the entire time my love, when it gets too much I’ll drag the attention away from you okay?” you nodded as he stroked your arm reassuringly.

“I love you,” you said to him as you leaned up to kiss him gently.

“I love you too baby, happy birthday.”

Chaol walked past as he left the room so you could clean, ruffling your hair as he passed. “Maybe next year you’ll grow,” he mocked, narrowly missing your smack as the three of you laughed.

“Clean up, we’ll be waiting when you’re ready,” Dorian pressed another kiss to your head before he was dragged out of the room, his grin easy as you waved him away.

You washed quickly without the help of the maids that usually surrounded you. You presumed that was a birthday present from Dorian as he knew how much you despised the bustling groups of women that would preen over your every feature.

You spent half the bath scrubbing off layers of dead skin and the other massaging your hair until it had no option but to shine in the morning light. Cleaning your face and dragging a razor over any visible body hair as you repeated the rules you were taught in your head.

1. Never look anything less than perfect. A queen must look put together.

2. Always stand straight.

3. Never smile with your teeth.

4. Wave to children only, adults get a polite head bow.

5. Speak once spoken too and only if given permission from the Crown prince…

The list went on for what seemed like hours and at one point you had it written down and pinned on your wall next to your mirror, reading it every day. The first four years you had spent under the king’s care were the same. Lessons followed by more lessons, restrictive diets, and waist training. They broke you down and remodelled you into the perfect queen, and throughout those lonely years you never once saw Dorian, excluding the first time you met as children.

Only when you were twelve did you see him again, and from then on you did everything together. When he sword trained you practiced ballet, when he read, you read, when he ate, you ate. You became one person, never doing something without the other, Chaol turning your duo into a trio soon after.

When you turned fourteen he kissed you. You both knew you were to be married one day, but one snowy day he had pulled you aside and kissed you quickly, face as red as the roses your mother used to grow every summer. He had asked you to be his girlfriend, speaking so quickly you barely heard him as you held in laughs at your usually so composed prince. You had nodded in response and he kissed you again, holding your hand tightly as the two of you escaped the castle for the night, determined as he was to take you on a real date.

You dried quickly when you got out the bath, rubbing your favourite lavender scented hand cream into your hands and neck. You towelled your hair off and dressed quickly, mindful of the delicate necklace that always hung around your neck, the one that secured your place in the glass castle. Even if you didn’t know why.

Your dress was dusty blue with silver stitching, the king and queen liking when you and Dorian sticked to a theme. You thumbed some silver earrings in and adorned your wrists in similar dainty, silver bracelets, finally twisting your hair into a low bun and pinning away the loose strands, applying minimal makeup.

You heard a soft knock at the door before it pushed open, a familiar mop of dark hair appearing at an odd angle from behind the door. You smiled when you saw him, unable to escape the rush of feelings that appeared whenever he walked in a room, all easy smiles and suave manner.

He sauntered over to you with a cheeky smile, his hands hiding something behind his back.

“Maybe Chaol was right about the height thing,” he commented when he reached you, your similar heights long gone as you both grew into your bodies, the days of being young and without consequences gone.

You jabbed him in the rib jokingly, “It’s my birthday and all I’ve gotten so far is abuse.”

“Let me change that then,” he pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, and you shut your eyes, revelling in the attention from your lover. He pulled away and revealed the flat box he was holding. “I know you can’t take your necklace off, but I thought this would go nicely with it,” he opened the box in your direction, and you looked down at a beautiful gold necklace with a circular pendant showing an opalescent crescent moon with three stars on the gold plating it rested on.

“Oh Dorian,” you whispered, picking the necklace up gently to admire it.

“Of course I have a million other presents waiting for you later, I have to treat my best girl,” he scrunched his face up in the way that always reminded you that he too was just a boy, despite his lessons. You loved these gentle moments when you both let your masks drop, and instead focused on the true love you shared, a lack of care for the way it was pushed. You instead focused on the luck that had given you a man you could truly love, through all the pain and harsh words, the world had given you someone to endure its hardships with, and for that you would remain grateful.

“Put it on for me?” you smiled at him, biting your lip gently as he turned you around, clasping the necklace that sat perfectly under your crystal behind you neck, his fingers soft and gentle as they trailed down the chain and settled between your collarbones, his touch almost wary of the stone as he moved to stand in front of you.

He seemed like he was about to say something but clearly decided against it, instead reaching to tug some strands of hair down to frame your face, twirling them in his long fingers.

“We’ll be fine today, it’s only an hour or two.” He said, his voice steady and sure, his courage coursing through you as he cupped your face lightly.

“We will be. We always are.” You moved away and sat to pull on your shoes as Dorian checked his sword was hanging safely from his side still before he picked up a light shawl, slinging it around your shoulder and linking arms with you.

“The city awaits my love,”

Chaol was escorting you through the courtyard when you were surrounded by a fleet of soldiers, exchanging a worried glance with Dorian.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his arm tightening around you as he and Chaol both scanned the area.

“Yes your highness, however a rather dangerous prisoner is being taken to the king, so we are simply on high alert.” A guard you recognised said, Dorian frowned but you all continued onwards, only slowing when you passed an ever-larger group of guards. When you passed them you looked to the centre where a beautiful girl with a tear-stained face stood, being dragged along, her blonde hair matted with blood and dirt. She locked eyes with you, and you felt a pulse of power go through your body, her turquoise eyes widening for a second as time seemed to slow around you, a soft glow emitting from your neck. However before you could ponder it she was dragged away, and Dorian was asking you a question.

“Huh?” you asked quietly, mind occupied by the strange, beautiful girl.

“What do you think she did?” he asked, his grin cheeky.

“Maybe she steals princes hearts and eats them,” you joked, nudging his side even though your smile didn’t feel real, hiding your shaking hands behind the pleats of your skirt.

“Shame mine has already been stolen,” he flirted, and you laughed genuinely as he helped you into the carriage, pushing down the thoughts of the girl and the anxiety that surged through you as you prepared to plaster on a fake, placid smile.

“I haven’t eaten it yet though,” he laughed, joining you and squeezing your hand.

“Save it for dessert.”

The rest of your day passed slowly. Practiced waves and polite conversation taking up a majority of your morning as you tried to keep a pleasant facial expression when all you wanted was to curl up with your very cute boyfriend and sleep your birthday away.

You hated being put on display, the way you were shown off like a shiny toy and your hand was frequently finding Dorians, holding his tightly while you dug your nails into the palm of your other hand, the biting pain reminding you that you were in fact human.

By the end of the long, slow loop of Adarlan your shoulders were aching, and your mouth hurt from the still, soft expression you had kept it in. However you didn’t let your shoulders drop as you moved swiftly through the castle, Dorian by your side and Chaol a pace behind. Instead you only let your shoulders fall when you reached your room as you squealed, clapping your hands together and turning to Dorian with wide eyes when you saw the copious amounts of presents laid out for you.

“Dorian this is too much!” you exclaimed as you tackled him in a hug.

“Nothing is too much for you angel.” He muttered, kissing your head as you practically swooned in his arms.

“You read too much romance,” you said, ducking your head to hide your heated face.

“Plus a solid twenty percent are from me,” Chaol said, and you turned, hugging the tall man tightly too.

“Thank you!” you held your hands to your face, biting the tips of your thumbs like you used to as a child as Dorian led you to the seats where the presents were placed.

“I think this one needs to be opened first,” he said, a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t place as he passed you a large but light box. You opened the lid cautiously as Dorian exchanged excited looks with his brother. You were met by a ball of white fur, bright blue eyes blinking up at you and you gasped.

You placed a hand over your heart as you reached into the box, picking up the kitten that was roughly the size of your hand and cooing gently as you stroked it, tears filling your eyes. You looked up at Dorian and he smiled at you as you pressed the furball into your chest, nuzzling its soft head.

“I found it abandoned on a street and had to take it home,” he explained, “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

You wiped away a tear that had escaped as they laughed at your emotional state, “Amaris,” you whispered, still choked up, “My little ball of light.”

You leaned into Dorian’s arm and kissed him gently in thanks, his head coming over your shoulder as you cooed at the small kitten that was pawing at your hand like new parents.

“As sweet as this is we’re going to be here for hours if you take this long on everything,” you stuck your tongue out at Chaol, placing Amaris in your lap as you were passed more presents. You ended up opening many presents for Amaris, Dorian sheepishly explaining that he got slightly carried away, countless books, dresses, hair pins and bags filled with sweets from all over the world.

By the time you were finished you all felt slightly sick from the taffy you had shared but the aches left from your smiles were real this time. Maids came in to clear away the wrapping paper and dishes Dorian had ordered up when he realised you hadn’t had any substantial food yet that day.

“I should go, we’ve got dinner then the ball in an hour and I can hear the maids outside,” Dorian said late that afternoon, his arms tight around you as you snoozed on his chest, Chaol having left to complete his duties for the day, not having the luxury to laze around like you and Dorian, and Amaris curled on Dorian’s chest next to your head.

“Do you have too?” you whined, and Dorian laughed,

“Yes, now c’mon. Wear the gold dress tonight,” he was referring to an intricate rose pink and gold dress he had bought you, currently hanging on the screen in your room, the matching tiara in a velvet case on your vanity. You looked over to it with heart eyes, wondering how you got so lucky before you sat up and Dorian marvelled at you, eyes puffy from your nap and lips parted and pouty. He reached up and stole a kiss, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before deepening the kiss with a hand on the back of your head. He pressed into your body, his tongue seeking out yours and you moaned softly into the kiss, his grin a promise of more to come later in the evening.

He pulled away too soon, leaving you breathless and left with a wink as you were surrounded by a sea of flustered maids, getting swept up in the lace and satin, the rush of the room silencing your mind for the time being.

You sat next to Dorian on a velvet seat, Dorian’s hand protectively resting on your knee as you spoke to the duke and duchess of some shit you didn’t care about. They were speaking about their fifth horse when you felt a sharp gaze on you and turned to see the king staring at you with his cold eyes, and for a second you felt that pulse of power again, the Duke cut off mid-sentence as the world slowed. You tore your eyes away quickly, clenching them shut as the image of the blonde girl came back into your head, Dorian gazing at you with worry as he excused the two of you.

“What happened?” he asked, leading you to dance as you forced yourself back into your practiced facial expression, the mask slipping on hiding your fear.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his embrace, “I need to talk to you about something that happened today,” you whispered low enough for him to hear.

“Are you okay? Did someone do something?” he asked, grip tightening slightly as he led you in a waltz.

“Not quite, I’ll tell you when we can go somewhere more private.” You peered over his shoulder and met the kings’ eyes again, watching as he spoke lowly to Chaol who turned slightly pale before bowing and making his way over to you.

“May I but in,” he asked, and Dorian nodded, still watching you cautiously as he passed you to Chaol.

“The king wishes to speak to you after the ball, he says it’s the first thing you have to do.” He told you quietly and it took all your training to mask your fear.

“Did he say why?” you asked, taking a deep breath when he shook his head. “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” You finished your dance with Chaol before carrying on with Dorian, occasionally having to entertain a noble who would breathe heavily in your ear for ten minutes before Dorian found an excuse to steal you back, giggling like the teenagers you were as you did.

When the ball ended and everyone began filing out, all wishing you a happy birthday and you and Dorian a happy future you felt the ball of anxiety that had been in your stomach all night grow, consuming your entire being and swallowing you whole.

“Are you sure you’re okay going alone?” Dorian asked for the fourth time and you faked a laugh to appease his nerves.

“He probably just wants to let me know of new duties now I’m older, I’ll not be long.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“But why won’t he let me or Chaol escort you,” he looked concerned, his trust in his father depleting as he grew older.

“Probably because you’ve both been drinking,” you squeezed his hand as his shoulders slumped, “I’ll be fine.”

“Come up to my room as soon as you’re done okay?” you smiled at his concern, placing a hand over your new necklace, and walking back, away from him.

“Promise.” You blew him a kiss, “see you in a minute, I love you.”

You knew something was wrong even before you walked in the room as you watched the queen walk out, eyes red. Her breath stopped when she saw you and she looked as if she were about to come over to speak to you, but shook her head, continuing on with a tight smile.

The guards opened the doors to the large throne room, escorting you into the dark room.

The king sat alone.

The room was dark, lit only by the light of the full moon coming in from the glass walls and ceiling. He sat on his burnished throne; his crown lopsided on his head as he swirled a goblet of blood red wine.

You stepped forward, head bowed, posture never faltering as your mind travelled back to the way you had watched your grandmother stand up to him as well, only to pass away less than a month later leaving you with no real family.

“It’s a shame really,” he started, voice low and gravelly and you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “You were truly doing so well, and Dorian the poor boy, this will affect him greatly I presume.”

You fought the bile rising in your stomach at the implications of what he was saying, but kept your mouth shut.

“And I have been nothing but fair, giving you all you could ever dream of and keeping you on a tight leash. But I suppose teenage girls will always want to disobey.” He stood then, motioning to the guards who came and kicked you down, landing on your knees harshly with a yelp as you looked up at the approaching king with fear in your eyes.

He reached you, his hand stroking your cheek lightly before trailing down to your necklaces, gently twirling the stone between your collarbones before holding the one Dorian had gifted you tightly.

“Hmm, tacky,” was all he said before tugging harshly, ripping the necklace of you, and throwing it to the side. “I guess I’ve dragged this out enough now.”

You were shaking were you sat, tears slowly trailing down your face but still to afraid to say a word, even as a guard you didn’t recognise approached you, drawing his sword as the others held you tightly. Your eyes widened, fear seeping in as you started fighting the guards, desperately thrashing in their grips as you met the kings’ eyes.

“You can’t do this,” you begged but it was futile as he laughed in your face, “Please it will destroy Dorian, he is your son please don’t do this.”

“It builds character, a strong king needs to be broken.”

“What about the public! They will figure it out, you can’t spin this one.” You were pulling at strings, but you had to try anything you could.

“I AM KING! WHATVER I SAY GOES, WHATEVER I SAY IS THE TRUTH!” he exploded, and you started sobbing, begging for your life as the king turned away, gesturing for the guard to continue. You were shaking, pulling away from the guards as you fought against their death grip.

You watched the guard raise the sword above his head, squeezing your eyes shut as you sent a prayer to any god that was listening. As you prayed, clutching your necklace letting loose sobs and cried for Dorian you failed to notice the glow emitting from you. You heard the guard step forward to slash down and raised your hands to brace for the blow, a blow that never came.

You looked up to see the three guards that were next to you were all sliced in half, blood spilling onto the floor. You screamed pushing away, slipping on the blood as you tore away sobbing as the king turned to you, face white with fear and rage.

“GET HER!” he screamed but you had already begun running, skirts bunched in your hands, the glow around you shielding you from their arrows as you tore through the doors and into the courtyard, running as fast as your legs would allow, dropping yours arms as the full force of the moons light hit you. You saw a path you and Dorian often took to sneak out and headed for it, hiding behind the mock door that was covered in shrubbery, a hand pressed to your mouth as you muffled your sobs hearing the guards stopping nearby, speaking in hushed tones.

You felt something wet press against your leg and almost screamed, looking down to see Amaris gazing up at you with those bright, unblinking eyes. You held in your sobs, picking him up and pressing him into your chest as you quietly made your way down the path that led to the woods, walking in the moon veiled forest.

Your dress was bloody and torn, your delicate heels had snapped, and your feet were tearing from where you stepped having removed them. You ran through the woods, heading as far away as you could get, however you eventually had to slow walking and holding in your sobs as you realised what you had done.

Not only had you used magic, but you had also killed three men and left Dorian. You held Amaris tighter to your chest as he licked at you gently, your necklace still glowing even thought your entire body ached, ready for rest. But you ploughed on, coming out of the forest onto an empty dirt road.

You sat down for a second, letting Amaris down as you sobbed into your hands until you had no tears left, your entire body still shaking. But you forced yourself to stand, picking up Amaris and walking down the road, luckily finding a small farm with horses.

You quietly took a horse, placing down your tiara in its place, wishing you could apologise more but instead mounting the horse and leaving, riding into the night, tears drying on your face as you held your light close with one hand. You wished you could just wake up, wrapped in Dorians arms as he comforted you after your bad dream, but the pain in your body suggested that wasn’t going to happen.

You wanted Dorian but you needed a plan. And you needed a drink.

Chaol stood in the throne room, his hand clenched so tight his knuckles were white as he watched the king spin his story of your sudden disappearance, the sound of Dorians silent cries breaking his heart.

When they were excused he dragged Dorian to his room, where he finally broke down, falling to his knees and sobbing into his hands, muttering about how he should have protected her.

“Dorian I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I think something bad happened to (y/n).” he said, approaching his brother cautiously as he looked at him with wide, tear filled eyes.

“What?” he asked, his voice breaking in his throat. Chaol finally unclenched his hand and passed what he had been holding to Dorian.

The gold necklace was caked with blood.

#throne of glass #tog #dorian x reader #dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard x reader

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years

Text

The Bard’s Sister Geralt XFeamle!Reader Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

Summary: Its finally your birthday. You not only get a lovely gift from mum and dad but also from your brother and his companion who has taken a very big likening to you.

Trigger Warnings: Drinking, some cursing

Pairing: Geralt XFemale!Reader Jaskier XSister!Reader

Word Count: 8,979 (I know its a long one XD I fit a lot into one part)

If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!! So sorry this took so long. it was a lot of writing and I knew I wanted to get the party done in one part. the next part will be the beginning of the travels!! Would you guys rather have SMUT in the next part or wait till the part after that? let me know!!! All my love!! -Lilith

Sleep eluded me. After eating the meat pie from the kitchen and a nice hot bath I thought sleep would’ve come much quicker. I was tired, physically and emotionally. I could feel it in my bones but every time I closed my eyes I remembered that my brother would be leaving again in a few days. I had three more days with him but it didn’t feel like enough. Not after all the time we lost. I wanted to ask him to stay with me, but I knew it would be selfish of me.

Jaskier’s departure also meant Geralt would be leaving too. It was probably for the best… the feeling I have for the witcher shouldn’t exist. They shouldn’t exist, because I was not delusional. I knew the Witcher’s were re-programmed into believing they were not capable of love, that they were loveless monsters, not only incapable of giving love but incapable of receiving love. I didn’t believe any of those tales. I had studied the trails Witcher’s must go through to become what they are.

It is disturbing. They break young men’s wills. Make them believe the world will never offer them love, all to fuel their agenda. Witcher's never go through anything that makes them incapable of love. It’s very evident in my brother’s relationship with the witcher. Had Geralt not been capable of feeling “human” emotions, he would’ve left Jaskier to die when he was attacked by the Djinn. It was a perfect way for him to get rid of my brother, it wasn’t technically his fault or his doing. My brother could’ve died and he could’ve washed his hands clean of him.

The way he kissed my hand the first day we met, was like he was attempting to give his best first impression. He tried his best to show respect, maybe so my mother and father would like him more. He showed me kindness, tenderness. Any time he touched me was feather-soft. Maybe he was worried he’d hurt me or scare me away...

The way he kissed Hildi’s hand. The way he smiled at my brother’s stupid jokes. There was so much more to him than anyone realized.

I stood from my bed walking over to my desk. I sat down and lit the lantern with the candle from my bed. The fire in the corner of my room didn’t provide nearly enough light to reach me. I grabbed my journal and some charcoal. I moved over to the large windows and sat down. The glass was cold under my touch, the moon was nearly full. It lit up the garden below me. It was the most perfect view of the gardens my mother spent so much time tending. The light blue hue cascaded along the hedges. The flowers dimly lit. I scribbled down the date in my journal before I began sketching the view in front of me for what seemed like the 500th time. I always found something new. Tonight was a quick sketch, just of the basics. I was hoping it would make me sleep but nothing seemed to work.

My body was smothered in quilts, my arm draped lazily over my head as I tried my best to sleep. The thin nightgown I wore was perfect for warm summer nights. It kept me cool and didn't stick to my body when I sweat.

The night was still, everything in the walls of the castle was silent. I cul hear the crickets and the frogs below me, but nothing else.

Squeak squeak

My eyes snapped open, my heart beating rather quick at the sudden sound from the room behind my head. It took me a minute to remember that Geralt was sleeping next door. I had heard him go to bed hours ago and it had been completely silent since. But now I could hear him moving over and over in his bed.

“Geralt…” My voice was barely above a whisper. No one could hear me, no one but a witcher's ears. If he was awake I knew he could hear me.

“...if...if you’re awake, tap the wall twice.” I held my breath waiting for a moment. My cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

Tap Tap

I smiled at the small sound signaling to me he was awake.

“I can not sleep...care to take a walk?... Tap twice for yes.” I wondered if he could hear the smile through my voice.

Tap Tap

I smiled wider, getting up from my bed. I grabbed a candle from my nightstand after throwing on my silk robe. It wasn’t the warmest fabric in the world but the summer air wasn’t too cold.

I quietly tiptoed to the door, opening it slowly to not let it creak. There on the other side was Geralt. His hair was no longer pulled back in a tie out of his face, no it was messily about his head, some small knots in the thicker areas. Small strands stuck up everywhere. His eyes were hooded a little in sleep. He had a small smile on his lips, his hands tucked into his underarms as he waited for me. He reached out, taking the candle from me before offering me his free arm.

“Princess…” he greeted with a small cheesy bow of his head. I giggled, softly shaking my head. My hand gripped around his bicep, squeezing it softly. It was as hard as a rock, my hand barely made it halfway around it.

“Hello, Geralt,” I whispered and he smiled. We began walking down the corridor, the hall dimly lit by the moonlight and the few candles lit.

“No sleep?” He asked.

“No...my mind won't stop wondering…” we walked down the stairs, slowly as to not let the guards know anyone was awake.

“Care to tell me why, dove?” He whispered. His arm moved slightly, making me let go almost immediately. Before my hand reached my side his fingers laced in between my own, squeezing it. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks, the small act making my heart melt.

“Walk through the garden with me?” I whispered leaning in a little closer to him. He made me feel safe. Not that I didn't feel safe in my home, I knew how safe I was compared to many others but he just made me feel a type of safe I'd never felt.

“Of course, lead the way.” we continued down the hall, walking towards the gardens.

As we veered a corner Geralt's arm quickly wrapped around my waist as he silently, and quickly tucked us behind a suit of armor in the corner. His arm squeezed around my waist. I could feel his breath in my ear. It sent shivers down my spine making me twitch slightly. He chuckled lowly, his thumb stroking my stomach.

“Do I scare you?” his whisper was low, very close to my ear.

“Never,” I said with no hesitation. My head turned towards him, his eyes shining in the dark. He gently put his finger to my lips.

“Shhh.” I nodded my head, our eye contact not breaking. His fingers softly traced my jawline, moving till he was cupping my cheek. He broke eye contact for a second as his eyes flicked to the hall we just exited. Not a second after he looked me in the eyes again I could hear footsteps. They were walking down the hall towards us. Geralt took a breath in. After a minute the person was gone. Geralt’s hand was still on my cheek and the other hand wrapped around my waist.

“You are so beautiful.” My throat went dry. My hands started to get clammy.

Everything in my body urged me to just grab his face and kiss him, but that small voice kept me back. My fear overtaking the decision. I gently grabbed his hand that was on my face, leaning into him. I kissed his wrist softly. His skin was so warm, warmer than the average man for sure. I wanted to hold him. Feel his skin on mine.

“So are you,” I whispered. His eyes practically rolled out of his head as he smirked like I just made some lude joke. He grabbed my hand and led me to the hallway and out the door to the garden. The moon was bright.

Geralt started to walk in front of me, pulling me deeper into the garden. Soon we were surrounded by my mother’s Roses and lavender bushes. The smell was intoxicating. It was the center of the garden. Geralt grabbed my waist again. Pulling me closer to him. I was shivering slightly. The air was cold from the late-night rain we had. Colder than I thought it would be. My hands Gently went to his chest, softly pulling and toying with the strings on his tunic.

“You are beautiful Geralt. I wouldn't joke about that.” My voice was no longer a whisper, it was still low but he could hear me better.

“I have been called many things in my day dove, but never beautiful.” His arms were tighter around me, his shoulders were tense. He was more alert outside than he was inside, I understood. His training not wanting him to think anywhere is safe.

“If you want, I’ll make sure to call you that more often.” He chuckled softly at my words. I couldn't help but feel angry, not at him but at the world. The way they treated him, his kind for things they all don’t deserve. My hands went to each side of his face, as I gently made him look at me.

“Geralt you are so much more than this world will ever give you credit for...I can never say I understand what it feels like to live in your skin, but I can tell you that you do not deserve that cruelty that is thrown your way. I know not all witchers are like you, I know many of them live up to the expectations my kind has put on you. But you do not. You are far from a monster Geralt of Rivia. You-'' one hand rested on his chest above his slow beating heart “-you have a heart of gold. And I’m so sorry you've never been treated with the love and care you deserve and need.” his hand was now covering my own over his heart. His other arm is still tight around my waist. My face and his had drafted closer as I spoke, he leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together.

“Fuck…. (Y/N)...I’m not good with words. But - I, uh thank you…” his voice was so deep it made it hard to focus. His cheeks were light pink. His eyes flashing from my lips to my eyes. I couldn't help but giggle at how frazzled he got over words he deserved to be told. My heart yearned for his touch. Everything he touched was like a small fire deep inside me. I had courted many men in my life. Many I thought would be my endgame, but none ever made me feel the way he did. His lip inched closer to my own, slowly before they were centimeters apart. He wouldn't kiss me without permission.

“You may kiss me Ger-” his lips were on mine before I could finish my sentence.

My arms wrapped around his neck, his own wrapping tighter around me nearly lifting me off my feet.

Our lips moved together slowly, softly. I could feel every inch of his body pressed to my own. All my thoughts were him only. His intoxicating scent was filling my nose as I breathed slowly. He smelt of sandalwood, maybe a little bit of mint. Nothing I'd ever smelled before. The way his hands held my back, softly running up and down the silk of my robe. Everything he touched felt like a new fire was spreading. His lips were sweet, of honey. They were surprisingly soft. They made me feel like molten hot lava. My hand gently combed through his hair. His teeth softly nipped my bottom lip before his tongue infiltrated my mouth. Our tongues danced together, our hands wondering, touching, feeling every inch. The world around me didn't feel real. My body was in the garden but my head was in the clouds.

He pulled away from me, barely. The loss of contact made me whine softly. I felt colder without his lips on mine. His hot breath fanned my face as he breathed in and out. I opened my eyes, looking into his. His hands left my back moving to my face, his forehead back on mine.

“You are intoxicating, princess.” His words were velvet. They made my insides turn in the most delicious way. My body yearned for him. His fingers delicately traced the frame of my face.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” I leaned into his hand. The warmth of his palm being a decent replacement for his lips.

“Jaskier will leave soon...Three days from now.” his hand left my cheek, wrapping around my body, gently turning me so my back was to his chest. His arms circled my waist as he held me into him. His chin rested on my shoulder as he listened.

“When Jaskier leaves, you'll leave too...and I'll be alone again.” The thought of them leaving made my stomach ache. I had been alone most of my life. Yes I had my parents and they were great, but they were not my brother.

“All of my friends I grew up with are mothers now. They have lives of their own. My mother and father cannot be my friends, they are my parents. It's nothing the same. I never realized how much I missed Jaskier till he came back.” My throat tightened as I spoke, the feeling of my tears burning my eyes becoming more overwhelming. My hands went to his around my waist as I held them closer to me if it was possible.

“I don't want to be alone again…” The tears slipped freely down my face, my head dropping.

“I sometimes wish he never left. I know that is selfish of me, but I miss him so much. Sometimes it takes months for me to get the letters he sends me. I never know if he is alive or not.” My crying became a little more intense as I spoke. My voice wavering. I Let go of his hands, covering my face with my hands as I rubbed away the tears vigorously. I hated crying in front of people, it showed weakness, made me vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to put you in this awkward situation,” I whispered. One of his arms left my waist, only to wrap around my shoulders, pulling me tighter into his chest.

“Do not apologize princess…” His lips met my temple in a soft kiss. His lips lingered there for a minute.

“Who have you been training with?” He asked. I couldn't tell if he was trying to change the subject because he wanted me to stop crying or if he didn't know how to deal with me crying.

“You may know him, I'm not sure. He never spoke of anyone from his past. He’s a retired witcher. He stumbled into our kingdom when I was 15. My mother and father were scared of a looming war between my country and Lyria. One of my uncles had knocked up the king's younger daughter. A large threat was over my head for a couple of years. So they asked him when he came into our country if he would train me. So I could take care of myself if I was to leave under a new identity. For the last ten years he came for a couple of months, we started with book training rather dull if I do say-” I chuckled at the memory of how many times I fell asleep reading the dull books he would bring with him. “We gradually moved into combat training. I know he didn't train me nearly as hard as he had trained the witchers in his court. But there were days I felt like my limbs would fall off, but last year he told my parents that he was confident that I would not only be able to live on my own in the world, but he was confident I would thrive. His name is Vesemir. He’s due to show up for our training any day now.” Geralt’s eyes were looking at me when I turned to see him. He was smirking softly.

“What?”

“Vesemir was my instructor at Kaer Morhen. I’m the witcher I am today because of his training.” My eyes must have bulged out of my head. He laughed at me making my cheeks flush red.

“You are telling me, I’ve been trained by the same man who trained you? And he never bothered to tell me? What a jerk.” I turned my body around in Geralt’s arms, my head now laying on his chest, my arms around his waist resting on his back. He was much, much, taller than me.

“Vesemir has always respected my privacy, don't harp on the old man too much.” His heartbeat was distracting me. It was much slower than mine. It was like a lullaby. My hand covered my mouth as I yawned, his head tilting down as he looked at me.

“Common, you have to sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow.” He was talking about my party. His hands gently pulled me back from him, his fingers laced with mine as he led me back through the garden into the castle and down to my room.

We stood outside the door, his hands mindlessly fidgeting with my robe.

“Stay with me tonight?” My hands pressed softly to his chest.

“I don't know princess...I don't want your parents to get the wrong idea of me.” I nodded my head, understanding and respecting his wishes.

“Will you be my date to my party tomorrow?” I asked timidly, my eyes focused on his silver pendant.

“I would be honored, Princess (Y/N).” His fingers hooked under my chin tilting my head up so my eyes met his own.

“Jaskier has your clothes, the party starts at noon.” He nodded his head.

“I'll be here waiting for you, little dove.” his lips pressed to mine. It was the softest sweetest kiss I had ever shared. It wasn't long, only a few seconds. His hand reached behind me as he opened my bedroom door for me. I leaned up, kissing his cheek softly.

“Good night Geralt.” I backed up till I was through the threshold of the door, my eyes not leaving him. My hand went to the door.

“Goodnight (Y/N).” I smiled and closed the door softly. My forehead gently leaning on it. My heart raced faster than it ever had. I wanted him back with me and he hadn't even been behind the door for a minute.

I moved to my bed, hanging my robe on the wooden bedpost before climbing under the warm comforters. They were not nearly as warm as he was but they would do.

Tap Tap

A smile stretched across my face. My knuckles softly tapping against the wall in goodnight. As I drifted into sleep finally, Geralt was only on my mind.

“Princess (Y/N)...” The sound of someone's voice broke my sleep. My eyes fluttered open, the sun burning them as it shone brightly through my window.

“Princess…” There was a small knock on the door. I couldn't tell who was at the door. I sat up in bed, the quilt bunched at my hips. I rubbed my eyes messily, moving my hair from my face.

“Yes yes, please come in,” I called my voice hoarse from the lack of water throughout the night. The door opened and Fesca and Neshe entered. They were women who worked in our court. My father and mother never believed in having unpaid servants.

No one in my family did. Before my great-great-grandfather founded and rebuilt our kingdom my family lived in incredible poverty. Many of my late family died of famines and illnesses due to not having money or food. When my father took the throne he made sure to keep the rule alive. We had many workers in the castle. But they were all paid and had housing courtesy of my father and mother.

Behind the two women, their daughters followed. They were much younger than me, barely 18.

“How did you sleep, my dear?” Neshe asked a sweet smile on her lips as she moved to the curtains, drawing them closed. My feet met the hard cold floor as I stood and stretched my muscles.

“Very well thank you,” I said with a smile. The four women walked around my room, Neshe was getting my dress ready, while Fesca and her daughter were preparing items for a bath.

“Here you go, miss.” Ari, Fesca’s daughter said with a smile as she put down a tray of food at my vanity.

“What time is it?” I asked as I moved to the vanity, examining the plate full of fruits and a muffin.

“Nearly ten, miss,” Ari said as she made my bed.

“You don't have to do that,” I said looking back at her, smiling.

“I know.” She said back with a smile.

“Your mother instructed us to tell you that you are not allowed to leave your room until the party this afternoon,” Neshe said as she started to boil water over the fire for the bath.

“Knock knock!” My head turned to the door, it was Jaskier’s voice.

“Come in,” I called and the door burst open. Jaskier was standing in the doorway with a huge grin across his face. He was carrying a large bundle of flowers. All types from roses to tulips.

He walked over to me, setting the flowers on my bed before hugging me tightly. My arms wrapped around his waist, my head resting on his lower chest.

“Happy birthday baby sister,” he whispered into my ear. I smiled and squeezed him tighter.

“Thank you, Jaskier. Thank you for being here.” He stepped back from me, looking back to the door.

“Geralt common!” He called, my cheeks heated a little as he entered. He was wearing what he was last night. Part of me felt like it was all a dream, everything from his hand on mine to his kiss. Our eyes met and he smiled at me, winking softly. He too was carrying a large bundle of flowers.

“Oh gods Jaskier you didn’t have to get so many,” I said with a laugh as Geralt placed them on my bed next to the ones from Jaskier.

“Oh but I do, little sister. There are enough flowers in each bouquet for every birthday I’ve missed.” I smiled up at him, my heart swelling.

“Thank you, Jax”

“Eat.” Neshe nudged me as she began pulling hairpins and brooches out of my vanity. I grabbed the muffin and took a bite, Jaskier pulling my desk chair over so he was sitting in front of me. Geralt sitting on my bed. Neshe started detangling my bed head, separating and pinning sections back as she started on the intricate style she had thought of for the day.

“You washed your hair recently, correct?” She asked as she handed me a glass of orange juice.

“Yes ma’am,” I said with a smile before drinking the juice and setting the empty glass down.

“You are such a compliant princess.” Jaskier snickered.

“Much more than you were as a young child Jaskier. You gave me hell every single day.” Neshe said behind me.

“I respect them, Jaskier. They look out for me.” I said with a roll of my eyes finishing the muffin and grabbing the bowl of fruit and the fork. Jaskier reached overtaking a strawberry and plopping it into his mouth.

“Rude,” I mumbled under my breath as I ate the fruit. Neshe continued working on my hair as I finished eating, the other three women walking around my room, tightening up and getting the bathroom ready, the tub is filled with boiling water. Many different oils and flowers added, the room soon smelling fresh and fragrant.

“Knock knock.” My eyes flew to the door that had opened slightly.

There stood a man, not as tall as Geralt but very close. His hair was a white silver, but much shorter, straight too. It was pinned further back. His face was much older than Geralt’s, not only with wrinkles but scars. His build was large, he was a very intimidating man. But what Witcher isn’t.

“Vesemir!” I quickly moved from Nashe’s hands, walking over to where he was standing a bright grin on his face. He quickly engulfed me in a hug.

“How are you kid?” He asked, pulling back from me, eyes searching my face.

“I’m wonderful, I’m so happy you're back,” I said smiling brightly. I looked at him but his eyes were over on the other witcher in the room, who was now standing.

“Well well, look what the cat dragged in,” Vesemir said with a deep laugh. He gently let go of my shoulders walking over to Geralt who was smiling back.

“Could say the same for you old man.” They shook hands, before hugging each other very quickly. My brother stood up and looked from me to Vesemir.

“Jaskier! So good to see you again.” Vesemir said.

“How do you know my baby sister?” Jaskier said, looking confused.

“He’s the one I’ve been training with, Jaskier. Father and mother love him.” Jaskier let out a frustrated breath pacing slightly.

“So you mean to tell me you've been seeing my baby sister for years and never once thought it was important information to share with me??” Jaskier’s voice was getting louder and shrill.

I walked over to him gently putting my hand on his arm.

“Jaskier he was doing it to protect me and you. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone outside of these walls what we did when he came here. Father and mother made those rules. Don’t be mad at him for following the rules. Just as he did with you and Geralt. I had no idea-” Nashe’s hands were on my shoulders leading me back over so I was seated, her fingers working gracefully in my hair. “I had no idea he had trained Geralt until last night. He never told me because he respected Geralt and his privacy.” Jaskier sighed, nodding his head. His calm demeanor only lasted a minute before he looked at me and his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Wait, last night? When last night? When were you alone with him??” Jaskier turned his attention to Geralt, his hands on his hips like a tutting mother. I bit my lip gently looking away from him. Fesca came over clapping her hands together with a smile on her face.

“Okay gentleman, I'm going to ask you all to leave. We need to get her ready for the party. You can continue this reunion later.” Jaskier huffed frustrated before walking out of the room, leaving Geralt and Vesemir. They both looked at each other then at me, Vesemir smirking at me.

“Here you go, the first part of ya gift.” He handed me a book.

‘A Mage’s Guide to Healing’

“What is this? I'm no mage.” Vesemir smirked.

“You do not know everything Miss (Y/N). You may find it useful. ” With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Geralt turned to me and smiled. He knelt in front of me so his eyes were level with mine, his hands grabbing mine. He gently kissed my knuckles. My stomach erupted in butterflies.

“You might need to talk to Jaskier before I do,” I said. He chuckled softly, our eyes meeting.

“What shall I tell him?” His thumbs stroked the back of my hands.

I shook my head forgetting Fesca was still working on my hair causing her to grunt in frustration, her hands holding the sides of my head so I sat still.

“My dear, if you want me to finish this so you can enjoy the company of the Wolf this evening, you need to sit still.” I smiled bashfully, glancing down at my hands with my eyes.

“Sorry, Fes…” I mumbled.

“I'm not sure what to tell him. Maybe you should decide.” Geralt nodded in agreement. He stood up slightly, leaning over and kissing my forehead softly. I could hear the women behind me ooing quietly.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, dove.” I smiled up at him, squeezing his hands gently.

“Okay, Geralt. Maybe tell him outside.” He laughed softly walking to the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“Okay, dove.”

Once the door was shut Neshe appeared in front of me, she had a smirk on her face.

“You and the witcher my dear?” She sat in the chair Jaskier was in. Ari and Yennaa were behind me helping Fesca with my hair.

“There isn't anything other than what you saw. He cares for me, but we all know he can't care for me in the way I wish he could.” I said looking over the book in my lap.

“I don't know (Y/N)… the way he looked at you is how my pa looks at mum,” Yennaa commented. Her mother and father had been together longer than my mum and dad. The connection between how Geralt looked at me to how her father looked at her mum made my heart sore.

“I...I hope so...He makes me feel things no other man has.”

Fresca gently squeezed my shoulders, sliding a silk bonnet over my hair, tying it behind my head.

“Alright dear get in the bath, wash yourself up and we'll be back to help with your dress and makeup.” I nodded and thanked them as they left the room. I undressed quickly, before sinking into the hot bubbly water.

____________________________________________________________________________

“You look beautiful my dear. You wait here to get your mother and father.” I smiled brightly at Neshe and the other women.

“Thank you. And thank you so much for your help. "They smiled and left me alone in front of the mirror

The dress was so beautiful.

Hildi had completely outdone herself this year. The dress was dazzling baby pink, with hundreds of stars stitched into a beautiful mesh fabric. It had sleeves but they did not come up my arms. Instead, the sleeves came right above my elbows. My décolleté and shoulders bare, showing off my breasts a bit more than I normally did but I had never felt more beautiful. Fesca had outdone herself on my hair, every pin was perfectly placed, every curl held beautifully. My crown was dazzling in the noon sun, sending rainbows around my room as it sat gracefully on my head. My attention was turned to the small knock on the door. In stepped my mum and dad. My mum's hand went over her mouth with a small gasp.

“Oh my goodness. My baby girl is a grown woman. You look absolutely beautiful my love.” She came to me, hugging me into her tightly. My arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly. Her fingers stroked my back softly. I inhaled her scent, snuggling my face into her maroon dress. Her hugs were like none I'd ever had. They were everything I needed some nights...

“I love you, mum…” She pulled me back from her and looked me in the eye, her fingers stroking my face.

“I love you more than you will ever know. Now, your father has a gift for you.” My eyes went to him. He was dressed in a solid green velvet suit, a white button-down under his fest. He looked dashing. I smiled at him as he walked over to us, a small box in his hand.

“This is something I had made for you when you were born. We both wanted to wait till you were older to give it to you. I think now is a perfect time.” He handed me the box with a smile. I gently took the box and opened it.

“Dad….” It took my breath away. A beautiful ring was in the center of the box, gleaming in the sun.

There was an opal stone in the center, two little gold moons on each side of the opal, that symbolize a full moon. There were six diamonds embedded into the ring. Three on the top, three on the bottom. Everything had been placed on a gold band. I looked at my father, his eyes were welling with tears.

“You've always been my little girl, and no matter where you go or where I go, I never want you to forget how much I love you.” My arms wrapped tightly around him as I practically threw myself on him, tears slipping down my face. I felt my mother’s hand on my back as she hugged us.

“Jaskier you can come in now.” My mother called out. I could hear the door open, then soon my brother's arms were wrapped around my mother and me. All four of us were back together again.

“Happy birthday Little Pea.” My dad whispered with a small chuckle. Jaskier laughed in my ear, making me laugh softly. The nickname my brother called me for many years had been forgotten after he left. No one else is using it.

“I love you all.” My dad pulled me from his chest, whipping my face before grabbing the ring and putting it on my right ring finger.

“Okay we’ll leave you with your brother to go great with your guests. Don't be too long.” My mother said, booping my nose. I laughed softly nodding.

The two of them left the room, leaving just Jaskier and me. He turned to me, looking me up and down before bringing me into another bone-crushing hug.

“I'm so happy you're home Jax…” I whispered into his black velvet tunic. He too looked quite dashing. His shirt was tucked into some dark blue trousers a black leather belt holding them up, and some very nicely polished black boots up his legs. His hair was curly and his smile was bright.

“I missed you so much, Little Pea.” He pulled back and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So Geralt spoke to me earlier today.” I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks and ears.

“About…?”

“He told me about the kiss last night, told me he didn't want to hurt you. I told him he had to talk to mum and dad, not me.” I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Jaskier, it's not that serious. Why would you tell him that it's not-”

“He already did it love. They gave their blessing.”

“I...they did? For what?”

“To court you of course!” He said with a laugh.

“But you'll both leave soon-”

“Don't overthink it, common he's waiting outside.” He walked to the door opening it. Sure enough, there was Geralt. He was breathtakingly beautiful. He was dressed head to toe in black velvet, his hair clean and combed, pinned back, his face freshly shaved, a small rose pinned into his shirt. The first three buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing his deliciously hairy chest and his silver pendant.

Breath.

I took a deep breath, my eyes looking him up and down taking him in. It wasn't until we met eyes I realized he was doing the same to me.

“You look beautiful.” He breathed out, walking towards me. I reached my hands out to him, he gently took them pulling me into him, his left arm looping around my waist. Our faces inches apart.

“You look so handsome Geralt. You clean up quite well. Black velvet is your style.” I said with a smile, my hand on his shoulder, the other still in his hand. He leaned down and softly kissed me. It was short and sweet. Yet it filled my body with warmth and butterflies. I was sure he felt the temperature of my skin change.

“Common people are waiting for you, princess.” He whispered as he pulled away, my hand wrapping around his bicep. I looked at him as we walk down the hall towards the grand hall.

“You are a breathtaking creature (Y/N). I do not think I have seen anyone so beautiful in my 87 years.” My heart raced in my chest as he spoke, my hand gripping his arm a little tighter.

“No one told me I was falling for an old man.” I joked as we approached the door to the great hall. One of my father’s soldiers was waiting for us.

“Princess.” He said with a soft bow of his head. I smiled softly at him, curtsying to him softly.

“Derlor, it’s good to see you again.” I let go of Geralt’s arm, stepping towards Derlor hugging him gently. He was my father’s right-hand man, everything my father needed he went to Derlor. He had been working in my father’s court for nearly 30 years.

“This will be the first birthday that I don’t get to escort you. I’m not sure what to do with myself.” I smiled and shook my head.

“Relax, enjoy yourself. Maybe ask Hildi for a dance. You know she has a soft spot for you.” I said stepping back to Geralt’s side, my hand on his arm again. Derlor looked at the witcher next to me, eyed him up and down before stepping in front of him.

“I know her parents like you, and I trust their judgment but understand one thing Witcher; if you hurt her in any way I will kill you. You may be a feared monster slayer but you do not scare me.” I rolled my eyes softly, everyone was going to threaten the witcher on my behalf. Flattering but annoying nonetheless.

“If I hurt her. I will gladly lay down my blade and let you do your worst, sir.” Derlor smiled.

“Good. Now time for your entrance princess.” He walked to the door pushing it open. I could hear the people quiet down. Geralt leaned down and kissed my cheek quickly, leaving the spot hot in his wake. Derlor stood at the end of the red rug in the center of the room. He cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the lady of the hour, Princess (Y/N)!” Geralt and I started walking down the center of the carpet. On either side were people from all over our kingdom. Many nobles I had known for years. I smiled at the familiar faces, as we continued walking to where my mother, father, and Jaskier.

“As many of you know, we have been preparing our daughter to take over for us one day-“ My father said, stepping forward, taking my hand from Geralt and smiling at me.

“But seeing as myself and my wife are in great health and nowhere near the end of our reign. And as you can all see our son has returned from his many great travels.” Vesimer walked forwards, a smile on his face and a pack in his hands.

“Your mother and I both think you are ready my dear,” Father said looking me in the eyes.

“Ready for what dad…?” I whispered, my voice wavering slightly, my stomach flipping and swelling. His eyes drifted behind me, looking at who I guessed was Geralt.

“You will be leaving the kingdom for a while.” My mouth ran dry, my eyes going to Jaskier who was beaming.

“We know that you will be in good hands, not that you need it. You will be leaving with Jaskier and Geralt and traveling the Continent to your heart’s content.” My hands squeezed into his harder as he spoke, my eyes burning with tears, my eyes bouncing between him, Jaskier, and my mother who was also near tears.

“You need to see the world, see what you can help improve on when you take over. Meet people, taste danger a little.” My arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tightly, my eyes closed the tears of joy slipping down my face.

“Thank you, dad…” I whispered and he chucked. He pulled me back and Jaskier came and stood in front of me.

“I've missed so much of your life, and I regret it so much. You have turned into such a wonderful young woman and it would be an honor if you joined us in our travels.” I could feel Geralt’s hand on my back as he stood next to me as I looked at Jaskier. My eyes gleaned at him, searching his facial features for any hesitation in the offer.

“You’re both serious?” I asked.

“Vesemir is very admin that you would be beneficial to me, in more ways then.” Geralt said with a small wink.

“So what do you say, do you want to come with us?” Jaskier asked, his hands holding mine.

“What a stupid question Jaskier! Of course, I want to!” The smile on my face nearly hurt, I had never been so happy in my life. I didn't have to say goodbye to Jaskier or Geralt, not for a while anyway. Jaskier grabbed me, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug which I gladly returned.

“Everyone please, enjoy yourself! Food will be brought out soon!! Ale. wine and mead are already out! We thank you all so much for coming to celebrate our daughter’s birthday!” My father said to the room full of people who all clapped and cheered.

I turned away from Jaskier to Geralt who was still standing next to me. I put my hands on his chest gently leaning into him, his hands going to my waist.

“Are you sure you're okay with me coming along? I would hate to be a burden on you.” Geralt shook his head, smiling softly, his fingers stroking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“From what Vesemir told me today, you will only be an asset to me and my travels. Unlike your brother who just annoys me.” I laughed softly, rolling my eyes.

“You love him,” I said with a smile. He huffed, taking my hand in his leading me to our spot at the table.

“If you didn’t you would have never followed him for weeks to an unknown country to meet a sister you had no idea existed. Face it witcher, my brother has weaseled his way into that heart of yours.” He was filling his plate with food and a smile on the corner of his lips as he listened to me.

He handed me the plate of food I thought he was preparing for himself.

“Thank you, love,” I said as I took the plate from him, watching as he got some for himself. The people around us talking, laughing, and beginning the party that would surely last into the night. He leaned over, kissing my cheek softly then he started to eat.

The party had been going for hours. Everyone was a bit drunk including me. The wine in my cup had been the fourth do far, and I'm a lightweight. My body was warm, the sweet taste of the cherry wine lingering on my lips as I listened to my brother sing and play his lute. As the song ended I put the cup down, nearly knocking it over in the process, clapping for Jaskier.

“Jaskier come here!” I yelled with a slight giggle. He came over to me, his face red as he breathed hard, he too was drunk.

“Any song requests my lady?” He said with a cheesy bow of his head making me laugh maybe a little too loud.

“Sing me the song you first wrote for Geralt?” His face lit up as he looked behind me to Geralt who was sitting at the table next to Vesemir.

“He hates that song (Y/N),” Jaskier said making me laugh more.

“Oh but he’s never had it sang to him here! Jaskier we love him here. Common the people will sing, children will dance. Maybe hell get some coins tossed at him!” Jaskier laughed with me.

“Okay okay fine, only for you.” Jaskier walked over to the stage with the other bards whispering something to them before yelling over the crowd of people.

“This song is for my baby sister. I haven’t sung this one in a couple of years, but I think you lot will like it more than anyone I’ve ever sung for!!!” The crowd clapped for him as they all looked at him. I glanced behind me looking at Geralt who knew what song was coming. Our eyes met. I giggles and winked at him.

“When a humble bard

Graced a ride-along

With Geralt of Rivia

Along came this song”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the smiles on their faces only growing, including my own. Many children ran into the middle of the room staring up at Jaskier as he sang, eyes gleaming.

“From when the White Wolf fought

A silver-tongued devil

His army of elves

At his hooves did they revel

They came after me

With masterful deceit

Brokedown my lute

And they kicked in my teeth”

People started singing along to the second verse. The room is filled with slurred, off-tune singing of my people. The warmth spread through my chest as I saw Jaskier’s face light up in a way I had never seen before. His attention went to Geralt momentarily looking at him with the same disbelief. I looked at Geralt to see he held the same expression. His smile was genuine, eyes wide as he listened to the people listen to the song about him. I left my spot from the middle of the room, quickly walking as to not trip in my drunken state. I got to the table in front of Geralt, my smile wide as I extended my hand.

“Care to dance with me witcher?” He cocked a curious eyebrow at me, probably due to my drunken state.

“I'm not much of a dancer, Dove.” He said, making me shake my head walking around the table, and grabbing his arm.

“Neither am I, that's what makes it fun.” He grunted standing, reluctantly following me into the crowd of people who cheered louder for him.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher

O' Valley of Plenty

O' Valley of Plenty, oh

Toss a coin to Your Witcher

O' Valley of Plenty”

Jaskier and the other bards stopped playing and singing, the crowd in front of him continuing the verse. Myself included. The sound of everyone singing my brother's famed song made my heart sore, everything was perfect. Even Geralt was smiling as he let me dance and spin with his hands, once taking his eyes off my body.

“You Witcher are a hero here!” I yellow over the music and crowd. He pulled me into him, his lips capturing my own in a very wet, sloppy kiss, impart due to my drunken state. The alcohol coring in my veins made me want to tear his clothes off then and there and let him have his way with me. But I wasn't drunk enough to let it happen. My arms wrapped around his neck as I kissed him back, the music and people drowning out of my ears as I tasted his lips. Everything about him was so intoxicating.

After a while he pulled back, my lips wet with his salvia, my chest heaving up and down, and my mind racing. I felt dizzy from the kiss.

“Common let’s get you some fresh air, dove.” He whispered, his arm wrapping around my waist as he led me out of the grant hall and onto a balcony. With one look from Geralt, the two love birds who were already out there left without a word. The cool night air hit my face and made me feel less dizzy. I walked over to the stone wall on the balcony, my hands resting on it, cooling me off more. Geralt's arms wrapped around my waist from behind holding me tightly and close to him.

“You are a rather drunk princess.” I giggled and nodded.

“I don't drink very often witcher, it goes straight to my head.” a large yawn interrupted my train of thought. Geralt chuckled and kissed my head.

“Would you like me to take you to bed?” My eyes felt rather heavy, the winemaking me more sleepy as time progressed.

“I'm such a dud, it's not even midnight,” I whined, smacking my hands on the stone softly. Geralt chuckled and ran his hands up and down my arms and shoulders.

“Common, you don't have to push yourself if you're tired.” Geralt started pulling me back to the door leading into the hallway.

“Fine. only because you're so nice to me.” I grumbled as he led me down the hall and into my room. He shut the door behind us as I walked over to the vanity, plopping myself down.

“I hope no one misses me too much. I desperately want out of this dress. It is beautiful but I cannot breathe.” Geralt chuckled from his spot at the door as he watched me attempt to pull the pins and brooches from my hair. I started to get frustrated, my hair being too intricately done for my drunk self.

Geralt wordlessly walked over to me and gently started to help me pull the pins from my hair. His fingers combed softly thru my hair, scratching my scalp gently as he worked to get them out of my hair. The small action was nearly lulling me to sleep in the chair. I heard a knock at the door which snapped me out of my sleepy state, my back straightening.

“Yes?” I turned around and saw Jaskier peeking through the door.

“You vanished, just wanted to check-in.” I smiled sweetly at him.

“I'm a very drunk Jaskier, I desperately want to sleep.’ He walked into the room and towards me. He was carrying a pitcher of water and a cup.

“I figured, drink this and-” He pulled out a vial from his pocket and handed it to me.

“-Vesemir gave this to me, says it is the perfect cure for a hangover. Also gave me one.” I smiled and placed the vile on my vanity along with the water and cup.

“Thank you, Jax.” He smiled and hugged me before turning and leaving to walk out the door, before he did he turned and pointed a finger at Geralt.

“If you decide to do anything dirty with my sister-”

“Jaskier!” I all but shrieked.

“Just, be quiet my room isn't too far away.” I could feel my face turn bright red, my fists balled at my side as I stood from the chair.

“I’m going to kill you.” Geralt’s arm wrapped around my waist pulling me back before I could attack my drunk brother. The door was shut and he was laughing down the hall.

“Such a prick.” I groaned and turned around pouring myself some water and drinking it. I grabbed the vile from the table pulling the cork out. Before it could be brought to my lips Geralt stopped my hand and brought the vile to his nose. He inhaled deeply a few times before realizing my hand,

“Just had to be sure.” I smiled and drank the contents. The taste was vile.

“Oh my god, that is awful,” I said coughing. Geralt laughed softly at me, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Help me unlace my corset?” I turned my back to him. I felt his fingers delicately untied the lace one by one. I took a deep breath, breathing properly again. As the lace was losing the dress started to slip down my body. I quickly caught it before it dropped down my waist. Thankfully my back was to him. I heard him clear his throat.

“My night slip in on the bed, can you hand it to me?” I heard him move before the slip was in front of me.

“Could you, uh turn around?” I asked.

“Of course princess.'' After a minute I turned my head and saw he was facing the other direction. I let the dress fall from my body leaving me all but bare except for my undergarments, I slipped the night slip over my body and gently brushed his back. He turned around and smiled.

“Stay with me?” I asked softly.

“Of course dove.” He led me to the bed, pulling the quilts and sheets back allowing me to crawl in. I watched as he discarded his vest, and shirt leaving him in his tight trousers. My eyes wandered all over his scared torso and arms. He was breathtaking.

“You're staring dove.” He chuckled making me blush, hiding my face in the quilts.

“Can you blame me?” He laughed softly and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked, sitting up slightly.

“Just to grab something more comfortable to sleep in, Dove.” He walked out the door leaving it open. He returned minutes later, in the same sleep pants he was wearing the night before, less tight. He shut the door and the curtains, walking over to the other side of the bed before getting in.

He scooped me up, placing me closer to him, my head on his firm chest. I could hear his heartbeat it was slow, soothing. His fingers stroked aimlessly over my body. The last thing I felt before sleep took me was his warm lips on my forehead.

@weallhaveadestiny @ayamenimthiriel @niiight-dreamerrrr @rn7rocks @fire-in-her-veinz @eternallyvenus

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt fanart #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x yn #henry cavill #henry x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #geralt smut #jaskier witcher #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher #witcher netflix

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pappydaddy · 3 years

Text

tolerate it (p.w.)

A/N: I got tolerate it done! I have been wanting to write this one since I started this collection and I am so happy to have finished it this is one of my favourite songs from Evermore! I also somehow had this take another course while I was writing this and I accidentally connected it to another fic I am writing for this collection (evermore) so I have altered evermore's description to fit it. I just felt this chemistry as I was writing these characters and it just kinda happened. I also thew in a little easter egg relating to ivy in there - I just couldn't help myself because the opportunity was right there.

I want to let it be known that this is not Percy slander, it is just how this fic ended up. Percy is very career driven and he also cares about how he looks and his image and that is shown in this fic.

Anywho, I know there are a lot of people out there waiting on requests and they are coming, just very slowly. I have not had much time to work on writing because of school, but I will get your requests out eventually! However, I hope you lovelies can enjoy this in the meantime💛!

Paring: Percy Weasley x Fem!Reader, a bit of Charlie Weasley x fem!Reader (too much chemistry to deny honestly)

Show/Movie: Harry Potter

Not Requested

Taglist: @sarcasticallywitty15

No Voldemort AU, no corrupt Ministry (other than everyday corruption. NOT PERCY SLANDER, JUST CHARACTERIZATION (EXPLAINED ABOVE)

Warnings: Loneliness, breaking up, sadness, angst.

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*I COULD NOT GET A GIF - I AM SORRY BUT THERE are ABSOLUTELY NO PERCY GIFS AVAILABLE TO ME😭*

The sound of silence swirled in the room with the dust that floated in the golden rays of sunlight. For something so present in her life these days, Y/N was still not used to the painful silence. She sat on the cushioned couch in Percy’s study, a book laid open on her lap, her hands folded, her back straight. She never used to sit like that, she always thought people who did look like they were always trying to hide something. But, then again, she never used to think she’d be sitting in the same room as her fiancé while feeling like she was millions of kilometres away from him. She lifted her eyes slowly, trailing over the beautifully crafted hardwood floor, over the red and gold rug (that matched the decor of the room), they danced along the dark wood of Percy’s desk. They finally stopped when they landed on his flaming red hair as it shined in the afternoon sunlight. Her head lifted as she studied him. Hunched over his papers, he scribbled furiously. “Percy, dear,” She cleared her throat when her voice came out more mousey than she expected. Percy hummed, not lifting his head from his work. “I was thinking we could go to town today, shop around for some more things for your brother’s visit?”

“Why? Charlie will be fine with everything we have in the guest room.” Percy grunted, dipping his quill in the ink-pot. Y/N pursed her lips, setting the book on the cushion beside her.

“Well, maybe we could get different soap for the ensuite? Maybe some relaxing candles, stuff so he can draw himself a bath,” She suggested, folding her hands back in her lap. “I’m sure he will be tired from coming all the way here from Romania. He’s not used to England time anymore.”

“Charlie doesn’t need all that, besides, it’s not like he’ll have time to relax. Once he’s here, we’ve got to get right to work,” He shook his head as he read over the new paper in his hands. “We’ve got lots of work to do,” He paused, his eyes finally looking at her, but only to flick over her seated form. “You would understand if you were still working.” He jabbed.

Y/N nodded, rolling her lips as she let the comment slide off her back, not thinking too much about his quip, just like she did with the others. “Well, we should still get him something nice, welcome him into our house.”

“I can’t go to town, Y/N, I have to get this done. You can go if you think it to be so important.”

“But I thought it would be nice to go together. It is a beautiful Saturday and those aren’t due for another week-“ She tried to explain, but the sound of Percy angrily throwing his quill against the table cut her off, startling her.

“I can’t just run off to town on a whim. Now if you can’t sit in here quietly then you can go read in another room or something, I don’t care what you do as long as I can get some peace and quiet.” He exploded, gesturing his hand aggressively towards the closed door to his study. She silently looked at the door.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” She whispered, grabbing the book and raising from the vision, remembering the lecture Percy had given her last time she didn’t put her book back before leaving a room. On her way to the door, she gently laid the book on one of the built-in bookshelves, not even looking at it. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, not wanting to look at Percy as he bowed his head back down to scribble on the paper. The door opened with a creak as Y/N slid out into the large and empty hall. Softly, she rested her weight on the door till it shut. Heaving out a sigh, she let her head fall back against the beautifully crafted white door, the identical one beside her jiggling when the other locked into it with a click.

Living with Percy was not what she thought it would be. When she was just a naive schoolgirl, they talked of having a decent house with a cozy feel, the rooms filled with laughter and the warmth of family, nights spent by the crackling fire with hushed voices and tender touches. The memories of the daydreams she had looked like a fairytale, conjured up from the mind of a foolish girl who thought happy endings were real. Now, she was alone in this grand house, the rooms and halls feeling cold with the only sound being the echoes of her footsteps. Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself off the door and made her way to get ready to go to town.

____

The melody of classical music filled the room as it was bathed in the orange and pink hues of the setting sun. Y/N sat in the armchair by the fire, watching the flames licking the stone, the black smoke swirling up into the chimney. Percy sat in the chair across from her, a book open in his hands, his head bowed low. Many nights in the Common Room were spent like these, Percy’s nose in a book as they sat by the warm fire. It looked almost the exact same as those nights to anyone else who had witnessed them, but Y/N could tell the difference. Now, the fire felt just as cold at the space between them, gone were the soft touches, the stroke of Percy’s thumb against Y/N’s hand, the feeling of his side pressed against her side, the comfortable silence. Y/N missed it all, but the thing she missed the most were the glances that left her smiling and blushing while a storm of butterflies raged in her stomach. Now, she just sat watching him read with his head low, noticing every little thing he does and doesn’t do.

“Percy,” Charlie’s gruff voice spoke, speaking over the cracks of the fire and breaking the verbal silence. Percy looked up from his book, his eyes not even glancing at Y/N in their path to look at Charlie entering the sitting room. Y/N softly turned her head to look at Charlie who took a seat on the empty couch. “I just thought of something that we should talk about in tomorrow's meeting.” He informed him.

“Just one second, Charlie,” Percy interrupted him before he could continue, his finger in the air as he turned his eyes to Y/N sitting across from him. She already knew what he was going to say before the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Y/N, would you excuse us, we have to discuss business and you have no need to be here while we do that.” He finally spoke to her for the first time since dinner. She nodded, standing from the chair and smoothing the back of her dress.

“She doesn’t need to go, the house is far too cold for her not to be near a fire and there isn’t one made anywhere else but my room.” Charlie insisted, catching Y/N’s forearm as she went to walk by the couch, heading for the grand archway leading to the dark hall.

“Nonsense, she can make one with her wand in the bedroom,” Percy waved him off. Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking back at Percy. “What are you looking at me for? You know how to start a fire, I know you’re two years younger than me, but they still taught you the same things as they taught me in Hogwarts.”

“I know how to do it, but I can’t. My wand broke when I slipped on ice in town a couple of days ago, I haven’t been able to run to Diagon Alley to get it fixed yet, remember?” She reminded him meekly, not wanting the same reprimanding she had received when she had told him the first time. Percy tutted, rolling his eyes as he remembered, gently closing the book still in his hands and setting it beside his leg, sticking into the gap between the cushion and the armrest of the chair.

“Ah, yes, I remember now. It’s laying on your dresser snapped practically in half. How many times do I have to tell you not to take your wand when it is icy out? How many wands do you need to break before you realize that,” He lectured as if she was a child. “Very well, wait outside the doorway and I’ll come to start a fire for you.” He heaved out a sigh, beckoning her away with a flick of his hand. Nodding, she went to walk away, but Charlie had not let go of her, instead, he tightened his hold, keeping her in place.

She looked down at him, her lips parted slightly in shock as he glared at his younger brother before looking up at her. “You can just go in my room while Percy and I talk then I will come get you and we can go and start a fire for you in your room.” Charlie informed her in such a way that told her she was not going to argue with him. Nodding silently, she pulled her arm free from his now loose grip and exited the room as it fell silent with tense air between the brothers, her heels clicking on the hardwood and the cracks of the fire being the only sound.

They must have waited until they couldn’t hear her heel clicks anymore before starting to talk since she didn’t hear a single sound coming from the room as she walked down the dark hall, the only light coming from the flicking flames of the candles lining the hallway. She sighed, pushing Charlie’s door open and slipping to the room. She didn’t even notice how cold she was until she stepped into the warm room, she relaxed into the warmth, closing the door behind her to trap the heat in. Making her way over to the armchair stationed in front of the roaring fire, she watched the flames just like she had done in the other room, thinking. All she did was sit in silence, try to live alongside Percy without messing up and making him lecture her. She didn’t understand it. She couldn’t understand how this Percy was the same Percy who stayed up late in the Common Room to talk to her about the scars of her past and soothed each and every one of them, laying soft blankets over the barbed wire of her heart so she could escape and finally love.

She jumped slightly when the door creaked open. Startled, she looked up to see Charlie walking into the room, closing the door behind him again. “Sorry to startle you, I didn’t know you were so deep in thought.” Charlie apologized, sitting in the other armchair across from her.

“It is okay, Charlie,” She told him, moving to stand but he held a hand out to signal her to stop. Obeying him immediately as if he was Percy, she settled back in her chair, sitting posed with her hands folded delicately in her lap, nervous as to why he seemed so stern, assuming she was going to have to listen to another lecture. “Are we not going to start a fire in the master bedroom?” She asked quietly when he didn’t answer, only dropping his hand back to his thigh with a slap, shaking his head.

“No, not yet. I want to talk to you first.” He told her.

“Oh-” She trailed off, her eyes casting down to the rug under their feet before back up at him, confused. “About what? If it is about getting Percy to mention something in the meeting for you, he doesn’t let me talk about work with him-”

“It’s not about Percy, not entirely,” He cut her off, leaning towards her with narrowed eyes as he studied her. She gulped, leaning away, unsure of what he was doing. “You’ve changed,” He mused, leaning back in the chair after concluding his study of her, his eyes still burning into her as she shifted. She knew she changed, it was not hard to tell that she has changed. “You used to stand up for yourself, make yourself known. You were never the doting housewife type of person, but yet here you are, being treated like a child by your fiancé. Why?”

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to the floor. “People change. Percy is so mature and wise, he must be right so that means I should listen to him, he knows best.” She whispered, not believing a word she said. Percy was mature and wise, much older than her, but she knew that he was not right about how he treated her.

“I don’t believe that, but it’s late and you should get some sleep,” He stood, prompting her to stand as well, hurriedly as if she would be scolded for not being prompt enough. “I excused myself from the meeting tomorrow and I am taking you to Diagon Alley. So you have to be up, we are spending the day there and eating supper there as well, which gives you a break from the house chores and Percy commenting on how dirty the plates are or how you set the table wrong, or your cooking. Might even swing by and visit Fred and George’s shop, must have lots to talk to you about, those two.” He told her as he walked to the door, her following behind him silently.

“What about Percy, is he still holding the meeting? He must be mad about you cancelling on him.” She asked nervously as he led her through the darkened halls, the candles having been extinguished, the only light coming from the winter moonlight streaming in through the grand windows.

“He got an urgent letter from the Ministry, he had to leave immediately for an emergency, probably be gone tonight and most of tomorrow.” Charlie told her, opening her bedroom that she shared with Percy.

“I hope everything is okay, it must be very important for him to be called away at a time like this.” She commented, shivering as she stepped into the room that seemed to be even colder than the frozen hall.

“Nothing to worry too much about, I am sure it is just a vermin issue and he has to try to contact someone to tend to it. I think he muttered something about Flesh-eating slugs actually,” He didn’t even look at her as he flicked his wand at the fireplace, igniting the wood that laid stacked in it. Something about how he spoke told her that he wasn’t telling the truth and Percy hadn’t been called away, instead, having stormed off to the office. He pocketed his wand, turning to look at her as she stood in the middle of the room, the glow of the fire lightning it. “I will leave you this to sleep on,” He paused, walking to the door while still looking at her. “The sanctuary is looking for a new magizoologist with an extensive knowledge in herbology.”

____

Y/N walked out of Ollivander’s with her new wand encased safely in the box which was in a bag dangling from the crook of her elbow. Charlie walked out behind her, letting the door fall shut after they said bye to Ollivander. “Okay, now that you’ve got your wand, let’s pop into the Twin’s shop.” Charlie suggested, pointing to the brightly pained shop with the giant, animated man. She looked up as she slipped her knotted coin bag back into her pocket, taking in the shop.

“Sure I haven’t seen the shop in a while. I just never have time to come here. Not with all the chores I have to do around the house.” She shrugged, stuffing her gloved hands into the pockets of her travelling cloak.

“What on earth does my brother have you doing that takes up all your time?” Charlie questioned as they started to slowly make their way down the crowded street, taking their time and enjoying the feeling of walking through the snowy alley. Y/N shrugged again, her eyes looking down at the snow-covered cobblestone, the white fluff packed into the cracks of the cobblestone.

“I mostly clean around the house, but I have to do it a certain way, if I do not, I end up having to listen to Percy’s comments about how much he tolerates.” She told him as they neared the front door of the joke shop, Charlie pulling the door open, letting her go in first as he scoffed at her comment, but he didn’t say anything. Y/N ignored Charlie, looking around the busy story, watching as fireworks whizzed around, ducking as one came right at her head.

“Let’s see what Fred and George think of how he’s treating you,” Charlie hummed, gently leading her farther into the shop so that he could close the door, cutting the cold winter wind off. “There’s one of them now.” He pointed to the tall ginger who was talking to a young customer, nabbing a product from the top of the tall shelf. Before she could protest, Charlie was walking around her and approaching the twin with long strides.

Scurrying after him, she caught up just in time for the twin to turn around, the child scampering off elsewhere to browse. “Ah, Charlie, my dear brother. To what do we owe the pleasure of you gracing our shop too,” The twin exclaimed, a feeling of joy and fun surrounding them as they spent more time in the store. “And Y/N, the future Mrs. Percy Weasley. Good to see you, Madam.” He bowed to her extravagantly, making Y/N looked around the shop with reddened cheeks, hoping nobody saw his little show.

“Hi, George,” Y/N greeted, recognizing the voice. Appearance-wise, she had a hard time telling them apart, but as soon as they talked, she was able to pinpoint just which twin was in front of her without fail. George nodded at the greeting, standing right as Fred wandered over to the group leisurely. “Fred.” Y/N greeted him first, his hands in his pockets, making his suit jacket flare out, being a picture of laid-back.

“Good morning, Y/N,” He nodded to her before nodding to his older brother. “Charlie. What can we do for you today?” He posed the same question his twin had, looking between the pair he never thought he would see grace his shop together. Charlie shrugged, looking at the shelf next to him, poking a box.

“Just popped in to take a peek and get your opinions on a topic we were just discussing,” Charlie told them, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets, looking back to his tall brothers. “Percy.”

“And what about our dear brother?” Fred asked, rolling onto the balls of his feet then rocking back onto his heels. Y/N shook her head at Charlie, fairly annoyed with his mission. She knew everything he was saying, they were all thoughts she already held in her head, but how could she leave Percy after all the love that they held for one another. That love had to still be there, it couldn’t just disappear suddenly.

“Has Y/N changed in the past two years?” Charlie blurted out, confusing the two pranksters in front of him, making them share puzzled looks before looking at Charlie again.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Percy?” George wondered.

“Look, yes, I have changed, but Percy has to still love me,” She directed the comment to Charlie, leaving Fred and George to look at each other, questioning what was going on. “All that love couldn’t have just disappeared. We love each other and while life is not how I pictured it, I do not see why I have to do anything to change it. If Percy thinks life should be like that, then he must be right.” She expressed.

“Tell us, Y/N, what life had you pictured?” Charlie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he instantly knew this would win the argument for him. Y/N shrugged, thinking, her eyes drifting around the store as she thought back to the visions she fell asleep to. The stories she thought would be a reality, but now know that they were just fairytales of a naive girl.

“I guess I always pictured Percy and I sitting on a couch in front of a warm fire, him reading a book out loud. We would share soft touches as we both relaxed after a long day at work. The house would be warm and lively, heated by our love for each other as we did daily activities together like cooking,” She paused, her eyes dancing along the ceiling as fireworks fizzled out overhead. She watched the once bright colours flicker and sputter before going out, leaving a trail of grey smoke swirling into the air. “He would do great things in the Ministry, building up the Wizarding World and I would be making strides in the Magizoologist field,” She sighed, looking back at the three men. “But I guess, somewhere along the way, now he’s building his career and I am just sitting at home, trying to make sure everything is perfect for him all the time.” She trailed off, hanging her head as she thought it through.

“Personally, I don’t see how your life now can compare to the life you pictured.” George spoke up.

“Of course it is incomparable, but life never goes as planned. What I wanted and what I am supposed to have are two very different things,” She agreed. “Besides, it’s not how the world works, I am just naive and childish, Percy tells me that all the time.” Fred shook his head, pointing between himself and his twin.

“No, no. We are childish, you were never naive and childish. You had dreams and an idea of how you wanted your life.” Fred told her, oddly wise and serious for him. George nodded along, silently agreeing. Huffing, Y/N’s tongue flicked out, swiping along her drying lips. Glancing at Charlie, she saw him looking at her, a look in his eye telling her to believe them. She found herself trusting his eyes, staying locked in his gaze until she came to her senses and darted her eyes back to the ceiling.

“It isn’t too late to have your dream life, Y/N,” Charlie spoke softly. Y/N could feel his eyes on her still, but she ignored it and continued to look at the ceiling where fireworks once were zooming around, darting towards the shelves, fizzing and sparking with beautiful colours. “You just have to talk to Percy if you always pictured him in your life. You can have the life you pictured, what you want and what you are supposed to have are not two different things.” He told her.” She listened to his words. She could do it. She could remove the painful dagger he had jabbed into her dreams and pull it out if she had to.

“I’ll talk to him.” She nodded, looking back over at Charlie who smiled at her, proud that she had finally listened. She found the corners of her lips turning up into a smile as she gazed into his eyes, feeling a weight lifting off her shoulders and chest. Just then, pops and fizzes were heard overhead, making her look up, seeing the bright colours swirling around the ceiling before each of them whizzed off elsewhere in the shop.

“Well, that means it is a new hour-” Fred started, looking up at the new fireworks speeding through the store, dodging one that almost hit him.

“Lunchtime.” George finished, also gazing at the fireworks.

“Well, we best be heading to lunch, we’ve got lots to discuss and do today,” Charlie nodded to his brothers who started a game of rock, paper, scissors to see who would take their lunch first. “I’ll see you at Y/N’s and Percy’s tomorrow night for the family dinner before I leave?” He asked them, earning nods and a frustrated grunt from Fred when George beat him in the first game.

“See you guys.” Y/N waved as they started a new round. Charlie and her turning around to make their way out of the shop, walking back out into the bitter cold. Y/N couldn’t help but let her destined conversation with Percy weigh on her mind.

____

Y/N collected the dirty plates as Percy talked to Bill about Ministry business, the others having migrated to the living room after Y/N had denied help, the only one who insisted passed her stubbornness and actually forced her to let him help was Charlie who took it upon himself to clean and put the dishes back. “Here, dear, let me take those into the kitchen for you.” Molly marched back into the dining room, hands out ready to grab the stack of dishes from Y/N.

“You do not need to help, Molly, you are our guest, I am more than capable.” She insisted politely, adding another plate to the stack. It was one of their fancier sets, not that any of their sets weren’t fancy, but these ones were the more expensive set that they used for family gatherings.

“Nonsense dear, you can’t take all of these dishes without your wand. I’ll clear the table and you can go search for it.” Molly waved her hand at the young woman, forcefully grabbing the stacks of plates from her hands.

“Did you lose your brand new wand already?” Percy asked her, cutting off his conversation once his mother was in the kitchen. Y/N looked to him, shrinking back under his judgemental gaze, folding into herself as if she was a child being scolded.

“I had it in the bedroom while I was getting ready, I left it on the bed to go into the bathroom, but it was gone when I got back,” She explained, but he just huffed, rolling his eyes at her, muttering under his breath, clearly embarrassed she had been so foolish in front of his family. “I honestly think it got wrapped up in the sheets, I am sure I will find it when it is time to go to bed.” She spoke up.

“I am very sorry for her immaturity, Bill,” Percy apologized. “Y/N, could you go wait in the kitchen while I finish up with Bill then I’ll call you back in.” He told her. Nodding, she bowed her head, walking through the doorway leading to the kitchen. Molly and Charlie looked at her, but she simply waited outside of the doorway, trying not to listen to Percy and Bill talking.

“What are you doing,” She jumped when Charlie appeared beside her, his present startling her. “Sorry,” He apologized, drying his hands on one of the dishtowels as the dishes continued to watch themselves in the sink, Molly leaving the room to get more dishes from the table. “But what are you doing?”

“Waiting for Percy to be done, he wants to talk about me losing my wand,” She told him. Charlie groaned, tossing the towel to the counter messily, giving her a look. “I know, I know,” She muttered, knowing what he was thinking. “I need to talk to him, but I am not talking to him right before a huge family dinner nor am I talking to him while you’re here.” She told him, turning around as he walked farther into the kitchen, starting to put the dishes away as they placed themselves into the rack after drying themselves.

“That means you’re going to talk to him tomorrow after I leave, right?” He asked, not noticing Fred and George walking into the kitchen in search of more food, the pair stopping to listen to the conversation.

“Yes, at some point tomorrow I will talk to him. For now, I can survive this treatment for another night, besides, I want to put the conversation off because what if it’s the end of Percy and I? Am I really ready for that possibility? What if there is still love buried under this mess?” She worried, watching as he moved through the kitchen to place the dishes back, having already figured out the layout in the short time he was there. She was amazed at how quick he was to adapt to change.

“I guess then that is the difference between the life you picture and the life you are meant to have, there are things that just do not work out because they are holding you back from your dream. If this conversation is the end of you and Percy then it is the end.” Charlie shrugged, stopping what he was doing as the dishes started to lag behind. She hummed nervously, twisting her fingers as she shifted.

“Y/N, could you come in here for a moment?” Percy called to her. With one last look shared between her and Charlie, she turned, nearly bumping into George in the process, not realizing he was in the room. He smiled down at her, moving out of her way as Fred wandered up to Charlie, patting him on his back.

“You and I aren’t that different, are we Charlie-boy? Both trying to break up engagements.” He spoke, but something told Y/N she was not meant to hear that.

“I’m not trying to break up with engagement, Fred, that’s ridiculous-” She couldn’t hear what else Charlie was saying as she walked into the dining room again, spotting Percy sitting in the same spot, his hands folded on the clean table in front of him, Molly walking into the kitchen, smiling as she passed her, clearly unaware she was going to be lectured by her son.

“Really, Percy, I know where my wand is, I just didn’t have enough time to actually look for it in the sheets.” She told him, taking a seat at the table, a few spots down the head he sat at, his cold eyes on her. She gulped, shifting in her seat as she folded her hands in her lap, angling her body to look at him better.

“You couldn’t have told me you lost your wand? I could have found it and spared us being embarrassed in front of my family,” He questioned, exasperated. “You know, I know I saw this a lot, but I really do tolerate so much from you. Please, for the love of Merlin, next time think about how we appear to others before you tell people that you lost your brand new wand. I mean, how clumsy are you? First, you break one and now you lost one.” He shook his head, standing up, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“I really am sorry, Molly was asking and I couldn’t lie to her,” She insisted, standing up herself. “Where are you going, is this the end of the conversation, I don’t even get to defend myself?” She asked as he walked towards the archway leading to the hall. He paused, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I have to go do damage control so that we are not the laughing stock of the family. Why don’t you go and work on the dishes with Charlie?” He suggested in a way that told her to just listen to him. Not wanting to put him into a worse mood than he already was, she obeyed, making her way back into the kitchen where Charlie worked at putting the dishes away again, the twins had left, obviously taking the hallway back to the sitting room.

“Hey, I know this might not be the time, but I just realized that I might not be able to return for Christmas again this year so I wanted to take this opportunity to say Happy Christmas to you.” Charlie said when he heard her walking in, looking over his shoulder as he placed a glass back into its spot.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie.” She returned the festive greeting solemnly, making Charlie give her a concerned look before deciding not to ask any questions, clearly seeing that she was too wrapped up in her head to listen to him pester her. Instead, he went back to putting the dishes back, glancing at her every few minutes.

____

The house had returned to its normal silence once again, leaving Y/N sitting alone in the sitting room, waiting for Percy to get home from the Ministry. She twisted her fingers together, staring at the flames in the fireplace, heating the room. Looking up as she heard the door to their house opening, she stood, rushing through the sitting room to look out into the hall, seeing Percy shrugging off his cloak and setting his briefcase down. “Percy,” She spoke softly, gaining his attention. He hummed, looking up at her as he untied his shoes. “Could you come in here a moment, I have to talk to you about something.” She asked him rather nervously.

“Of course, just a moment while I change my shoes, I don’t want to track snow into the house,” He told her, grabbing another pair of shoes to slip on. She nodded, ducking back into the sitting room and making her way back over to the sofa, taking her spot back. The thought of this conversation being the end of her relationship with him weighed in her mind, but after spending the day all by herself for the first time in a week, she realized how it already felt that it was over between them for the longest time. She wasn’t able to think too much about it anymore as Percy walked into the room, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them, trying to warm himself up. “What do you need to talk about?” He asked her, standing in front of the fireplace, holding his hands out to it.

��I want my dream life,” She blurted out, not giving herself a chance to chicken out. Gulping, she watched as he glanced over his shoulder at her in confusion. “I want to go back to work and I want to know if you still love me.” She continued, throwing the plan she had rehearsed for this conversation out the window.

“Of course I still love you-”

“Really? Because it seems to me that I am just a burden that you tolerate and I should not just be tolerated, I should be celebrated and shown love, but all you do is make comments and roll your eyes as if I am a child,” She ranted, the words just pouring out, easing the pressure she didn’t know she had weighing down on her chest. “I want to be loved and appreciated, not banished to doorways and shooed out of rooms. I want to be able to live, I want to be relevant in someone else's life, I want to make a name for myself, not just making it into the footnotes of your success story,” She paused, looking lifting her eyes from the floor, looking at him to see him fully turned towards her, his mouth hanging open as he blinked at her. “And I so desperately want to know that there is still love between us because you were who I imagined in my perfect life. Please,” She choked on unshed tears, feeling the tell-tale lump in her throat, blocking the words from leaving her mouth. “Please tell me that this is all in my head and that there is a flame still burning in the depths of this darkness.” She pleaded, a few tears slipping down her cold cheeks.

She was silent, the only noise coming from her were the sniffles as she tried to not let out the sobs and cries she was holding back. He stayed silent as well, his eyes stuck to the floor under his feet, not wanting to meet her eyes. A sob slipped past her lips as she realized what the silence meant, but part of her didn’t want to believe it. “If you don’t tell me it is possible for us to love each other still, then I will have no problem taking this dagger you jabbed through my heart out, leaving the idea of us bleeding out on this coffee table if that meant I could have my dream life,” She was fully prepared now to leave him, to dump the weight of him off her shoulders. “Believe me, Percy Weasley, I can do it if you do not tell me that I somehow got this all wrong,” She gave him another opportunity to speak up, to fight for her, but he remained silent, still not lifting his eyes to meet her. Just then, she knew that she could not deny it anymore and her heart shattered with the force compared to the killing curse, breaking into millions of little, tiny pieces as she realized that there was no more love and he was just tolerating her to save face. “Well, I guess this belongs to you again,” She whispered, pulling the engagement ring off her finger, gently laying it on the clean coffee table, standing up. “I already had my things ready in case this happened so this is goodbye, Percy.” She kept her eyes on him, hoping that he would lift his eyes from the floor finally and tell her to stay, that he did love her still, but he didn’t. He remained just as silent and cold as the house they were in. He gave her no other choice but to walk out of the room and walk out of this life, now free from the dagger in her heart and the weight of him crushing down on her, free from him only tolerating her.

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katsukisblackteddy · 4 years

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The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt.

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens.

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I 𓂀 PART II 𓂀

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home.

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people.

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler.

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her.

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded.

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room.

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in.

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.”

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room.

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow.

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl.

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son.

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas

TAGS:

#katsukisblackteddy #pharaoh bakugou #warrior princess reader #bakugou x black reader #ancient egypt au #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black reader #in honor of black history month coming up #ancient egypt #TWQ&HP Mini Series #i don't know how many parts I want to write for this yet #black history month 2021 #mha x black reader #mha x poc!reader #pls i love mitsuki

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Heart Of Gold

Pairing: John Shelby x Female!Reader, Polly + Female!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 1,896

Summary: Polly cares for Y/n in private, feeling sympathy for the woman left with her five year old boy and no money or food, but John stumbles in on one of their meetings and can’t help but be nosy.

Note: So! I won’t be active this weekend, hopefully I upload a couple fics to my que beforehand (I’m planning on it, but I can’t promise anything). also, pardon my shock of just now discovering that fridges have existed since like 1805, and my odd hysteria over the word count... John was born in 1895 lmao

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

“Polly!” The little boy, knots and tangles in his beautiful h/c hair, ran to the woman and giggled as she lifted him up. She held him on her hip, walking to Y/n and giving her a side-hug.

“It’s nice to see you too, Jonas.” Polly smirked at Jonas. His appearance was rather “rich-looking” despite him being nowhere near such. The truth was, ever since the Peaky Blinders had been making tons and tons of money, Polly had been helping Y/n and Jonas.

When she first met them, she had just bought herself a gorgeous gown. She remembered stumbling upon the little boy, his mother chasing after him. Halting in place, she began chuckling to herself as the boy flashed her a smile, his two front teeth nowhere to be found.

Polly took them in. Sneaking them into the house when the rest of the family had left, buying them clothes, teaching Y/n stuff like baking- cooking- sewing- really anything that could help her and Jonas. She felt like she was a mother all over again, only this time, to a woman and the woman’s son.

But, hey, she wasn’t one to complain.

“His teeth are growing back in. Soon, he will be a big boy, isn’t that right Jojo?” He nodded in response. Jonas opened his mouth and tapped his gums, where, sure enough, two tiny teeth were poking out- slightly visible but not that much. Polly rubbed his cheek, pinching slightly, and kissed the opposite one.

“When I’m a big boy, I get to help!”

The women laughed with adoration and intrigue. “How so, little Jojo?”

“Well...I can protect mommy. That’s what big boys do, especially the big-big boys- they fight in wars against other big-big boys.”

He had a great amount of bravery and an equal, possibly even greater, amount of imagination to balance it out. Having never known his father, Jonas took it as his sworn duty to care for and protect his mother. And while Y/n found amusement in her mini knight in shining armor, she felt insecure in her parenting skills; if he were to make it his duty to protect her, thus taking what she felt her was job as a mother, what would she do?

Polly had been their savior and somewhat-Y/n’s-counselor. In summary, Pol had known how Y/n felt about her little boy’s confidence, many worries consisting of his safety, her insecurities, and how their relationship would turn out as he grew older.

“That’s right. However, little one, your mummy would like to protect you until you’re old enough to protect her and yourself.” Polly brushed his hair from his eyes. She studied his small face for any negative reactions before continuing, “Is that alright with you?”

He thought for a moment and brought his finger to his lips. As he furrowed his brows and scrunched his face, his baby-fat clung to his cheeks and made his expression look more cute than intimidating. “I guess... But I can still protect her...right?”

“You can protect each other.”

“Hooray!” Jonas’ arms flung into the air whilst he began to celebrate.

“Alright, aright, Mr. Hero. It’s time for your bath.” Y/n traded the set of clothes and a small-ish towel to Polly in exchange for her son. She kept him busy as Pol started the boy a bath.

It was a regular routine. Twice a week they’d come in to bathe, eat, get some homeschooling done, and just have some social interaction time with someone they both knew and were actually comfortable with.

They put him into the tub and allowed him some time to play. Polly looked at her pocket-watch, noting the time it had been when he’d got in, and made sure to check ever now and then for when he would be required to start the actual bathing process.

“You can take a nice, long, bath after, dear.” Polly had never been subtle about her observation-skills, and today was no different; she waited until the tea was done before continuing to talk, pouring two cups of tea and a cup of milk. She set a cup of tea in front of Y/n and the cup of milk in front of the seat next to her. The third teacup was in her hands as she sipped it slowly.

“Pardon?”

“You’re stressed. You’ve got bags under your eyes, Jojo has way to much energy to be normal, you can hardly keep up with him, not to mention- the way you looked at that hot water...”

“It’s fine... I-”

“No.” Polly set her cup down, “It’s not ‘fine’, Y/n. You’re stressed. That’s normal for a parent. You just need some time to relax. I know you usually just wash your hair and body- but please; take advantage of this. Take advantage of it, for once.”

Y/n laughed for a second, but stopped when she realized Polly had been serious. “W-what do you mean?”

“Stay in that tub. Wash yourself before or after- I don’t care. Just stay in it, relax in the warm water, close your eyes if you’d like, anything as long as you relax and stay in the tub.”

“I’m ready!” Jojo’s high-pitched voice rang from the other room, catching both adult’s attention.

Polly downed the rest of her tea and stood up, pushing her chair in. She didn’t leave without giving Y/n a kind smile that disguised the pensiveness in her eyes and voice. “Think about what I said.”

Eight or more minutes later, Polly had returned to the kitchen. Jojo sat on her hip, clad in only his little undershorts and equally as small wife-beater. Aside from clothing, he also wore his towel- which lied over his shoulders as he shivered.

Before Y/n could stand up to grab her son, Polly put her arm out, “Bath. Now. Before I set Jojo down and force you in there myself.” She knew Pol was joking, but she also knew how serious she was.

So she obliged, walking into the room and stripping down before stepping into the tub slowly and sinking into the hot water. It wasn’t too hot, nor was it too warm or cold- it was just perfect. If only she’d listened to Polly about everything- it had been less than ten minutes, and she was already drifting away.

Although her eyes were clenched shut and her body and breathing acted as if her brain had commanded the REM cycle to start, she was wide awake. ‘How silly I must look,’ she thought to herself, ‘A woman who’s never relaxed in her life? No wonder Polly can see right through me.’

The feeling of comfort, given to her by the noises of Jonas and Polly’s laughter as Pol found a way to make getting dressed all the more fun, held her down into the tub and prevented her from leaving, glad that Jojo was safe and having a good time.

Polly poked her head in the door, “I’m going to take Jojo to buy a new toy.” Y/n opened her mouth to object, telling Polly she didn’t have too, but the woman held up a hand and cut her off, “I’m aware that it is unnecessary, but he’s been well behaved for every visit, so I figured he earned it. We’ll be back shortly, I promise.”

She hesitated but nodded and yelled a goodbye to the two, sinking lower into the warmth of the water and shutting her eyes again. Minutes had gone by, the only sound being her fingers skimming through and under the water and the soft breaths that escaped her mouth.

However, the state of solitude had been shoved aside when the door opened and footsteps paced to the kitchen.

Y/n sat up and opened her eyes. She waited for a sign that Jojo or Polly were headed towards the bathroom, perhaps to retrieve or check on her, but nothing came. Slowly and carefully, Y/n stood up and stepped out of the tub, wrapping her towel around her torso and walking out of the room.

“I know you said you’d be back shortly, but I didn’t think you meant that short-” she had been expecting Polly and Jonas, coming back with more toys than they’d originally left for, but was greeted by a man’s backside as he dug through Polly’s refrigerator. He pulled away from it, a bottle in hand and a smile upon his face, and turned towards Y/n. His smile faded as he looked her up and down.

He gulped before speaking, quite obviously affected by her appearance. “Who’re you-”

“I could ask you the same thing! What are you doing here?”

“This is my home!”

Polly had never told her of any men residing in the home, “If you’re lying to me, you’d better say so now.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lying!” The man looked almost offended, “I live here! Now, please, inform me and why you, from what I can see, are using my tub?”

“For your information, not that you need- let alone, deserve- to know, I was told to relax.”

“Deserve?” A scoff tumbled from his mouth, “Well- not in my bloody house! Go home! Go ‘relax’ in your own fuckin’ bath!” He ran his hand down his face and began to drink from his bottle, but whispered to himself before his lips met the cold lining of the top. “Jesus...”

“Ah, I see you two’ve met.” Polly commented from the doorway, “John, this is Y/n. Y/n, John. He’s my nephew.”

“I thought I was your nephew-” John’s eyes darted down beside Pol, a bit of shock in his system when they found a little boy standing next to her- the spitting image of the woman he’d just met.

“No, love, you’re my pretend nephew. Like a god mother, but an aunt instead.”

“Shit- I’m so sorry-”

“No...There’s no need for apologies. I can imagine how surprising it is to find a stranger half-nude in your home.” She chewed on the inside of her mouth nervously and presented her hand for him to shake. “Y/n L/n. That monster over there is my little boy, Jojo.” Almost ending the introduction there, she realized what she’d missed and rushed to talk before he could. “His actual name is Jonas L/n.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n and Jojo. My name is John Shelby.” John observed Y/n, and as he did so- he swore his heart did a backflip. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” It was like he broke character; his voice softening and his eyes narrowing, a small grin pulling at his lips when Y/n let out a nervous chuckle and averted her eyes. He forgot that they weren’t the only people present.

“So I take it they can continue to visit- only now, they may while you and the others are present?”

John nodded, still not fully focused on anything except for the woman, whom he could’ve sworn was a literal angel, in front of him. Had it not been for his aunt’s kind heart, he would’ve never met the woman who managed to steal his heart upon their first, and very unplanned, meeting.

Due to his trance-like-state, it had taken him a minute or two to process what his aunt said, but by then, Y/n was back in the bathroom- likely getting dressed- and Jojo had followed Polly to the family room.

“Wait- continue?”

#john shelby #joe cole #joseph cole #peaky blinders #john shelby x reader #joe cole x reader #joseph cole x reader #peaky blinders x reader #polly gray #peaky blinders reader insert #peaky blinders imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #all readers #zodiyack #might make this a series tbh

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lovelylou · 4 years

Text

since 2020 is almost over, i thought i’d share (some of) my favorite fics that made my 2020 a lot better.

[note: not all of these fics were written/published in 2020, although most of them are, there are some that are older, but that i’ve read or re-read this year]

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tastes like summer, smiles like may by outropeace

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

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But It's Useless by thinlines

“Hey.”

Louis was even hallucinating now. He closed his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckled wetly, head still leaning against the door.

“Can you get out of the way? You're blocking the door.”

He exhaled sharply before slowly turning around. His eyes fixed onto muddy Nike trainers before it traveled up to impossibly short jogging shorts. The yellow color was atrocious, simply ghastly.

“What happened to being polite, Harold?”

OR Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

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haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

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On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

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even the best laid plans by falsegoodnight

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

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The Compulsion to Find Love by Toomanytears

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

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Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

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UN(RE)SO LVED. by daddyharrie

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

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Hate to Smoke (Without Me) by louhazpride

“For fuck’s sake,” he huffs, grabbing the pillow and pulling it on top of his head in an attempt to block out the banging coming from the other side of the wall.

It’s the third time this week that his neighbour has woken him up in the middle of the night with his little ‘rendezvous.’ Honestly, he's quite sick of it. There’s only so much sex he can bear to hear in one week and he has already hit his limit. If he wanted to listen to someone having sex, he’d turn to porn.

As if the noises weren’t enough, Harry immediately becomes aware of the faint aroma of weed filling his flat.

“I’m going to murder him.”

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

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Three Days in February by writing_practice

“We have to get out of here, outside,” Harry whispered, turning his hand in Louis’s grip to hold on and pull them both to their feet.

“And how do we fucking do that?” Louis hissed, carefully rising and pulling Harry to his feet before Harry could do it. His gaze darted to the front then back of the arena. “None of the doors are where they’re supposed to be.”

“What?” Harry looked around again too, couldn’t see any doors, only knew that they must be there, somewhere. “How do you know?”

Confusion slid over Louis's features.

“Because we’ve been here before, Haz. It’s the O2.”

The show. It must be the first night of their tour. They were too late; they were out of time.

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

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Coming Up For Air by stylinsoncity

It's a long plane ride to LA but sitting beside Harry makes time fly.

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I'd Give Up Everything Just Ask Me To by Rearviewdreamer

They don't usually exchange Christmas gifts, but this year is different. This year, Louis knows exactly what he wants to put under the tree to make his boyfriend smile. He just doesn't know how he's going to get it.

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bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

Alternatively titled 'the peach fic.'

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Sometimes You Just Know by 2tiedships2

“Dear diary. Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why...”

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbled as he bit into a piece of toast.

“It’s been almost two years and today Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson reunite. Louis is very excited about…”

Louis’ chair screeched along the kitchen floor as he flew up out of his seat, quickly grabbing the paper from Niall’s grasp. As he scanned the page he found it amounted to lines of nothing.

“What is this?” Louis asked again. “We’ve discussed how Harry Styles will never be spoken of in this flat. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Niall snatched the paper from Louis and proceeded to draw a line across the page before writing.

“Today is the day that he-who-shall-not-be-named is coming to dinner.”

Or the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

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eyes off you by soldouthaz

“Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says.

Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back.

“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.”

or; a charlie’s angels inspired fic where louis is the brains, harry is the charm, liam is the muscle, and niall drives the getaway car - and zayn is there, too. sometimes.

⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Welcome to The Rivalry by 2tiedships2

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

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Cold Little Heart by seducedbycurls

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

#fics #fic recs #2020 fics #2020 recap #fav fics

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gardensghost · 3 years

Text

A Monster’s Awakening

Rated: T

TW: Blood

Words count: 2620

NOTES: ZOYALAI - Pre-King Of Scars. I tried to find anything that was pre-kos, but in vain, so I came up with this, I hope you’ll like it!

Summary: Nikolai’s first transformation

The first night it happened was told to be copious soirée, a gala had started a few hours prior, the Grand Palace filled with guests and servants roaming around. Lucky enough, none were unfortunate enough to encounter the monster ruling this place.

In hurried steps, Genya had been the one to inform Zoya of the king’s sudden disappearance, interrupting the commander from her short-lived moment of peace, leaving the warm water of her bath behind without looking twice. Genya explained her further as she dried her hair, ‘We can’t afford an ill commander’, the king had been seen entering his chambers but a guard rushed inside when they heard glass shattering and ran to the first Triumvirate he could find.

‘The shattered glass… Did he tell you if it was broken from inside or outside?’

‘Inside.’

In her hastily buttoned kefta, Zoya accompanied by Genya headed outside of the Little Palace.

‘The guests must not learn about this, I will find him, tell David to search on his own too inside the palace, I’ll take a horse and search outside,’ Genya frowned. ’Are you sure? Shouldn’t we use everybody to find him faster?’

Zoya shook her head. ‘No, we’ll find him, he possibly can’t have gone too far, you, you stay with the guests and make sure to act as if everything is perfectly fine and see if any of them has disappeared too.’

The commander knew that the tailor wasn’t truly convinced by the plan but nonetheless she started to march, ready to accomplish her mission.

Zoya let herself curse under her breath as she mounted her horse, a missing king was the last thing Ravka needed. The main road was desert, she stopped a moment, between the forest and a city half asleep, she let the wind whisper to her ears.

Some wuthering peace danced in the air, but it was shattered by some ear-splitting shriek.

Without hesitation, she galloped to the sound of slaughter, her mind racing to imagine what she’d find, her heart praying to the saints for Nikolai to be safe and sound.

She stopped at a meadow, she saw the tip of a cliff not so far and her dread only grew at the sight. Swiftly, she approached the barn, making sure to be silent and light on her feet. The wind, as always, worked in her advantage and made sure to lift and whip every single leaves in its wake.

A gushing sound still made it to her ears, Zoya had already paled. She stepped in, the cobblestone was sticky under her shoes, she repressed a shudder, taking it as a hint and already making out conclusions. Her eyes couldn’t distinguish anything in the dark and she relied on her earring to catch anything suspicious, snores, loud bleats, hooves, a grunt… Zoya frowned and stepped further, until she stood right under an halo of moonlight, as if the light on her face was her mark as a target. Another groan, raw and short, animalistic but not one sheep and lambs could make, they even grew more agitated.

The door of the barn shut.

She whipped around, ready for a fight.

A big figure stood before her, a pair of red eyes staring, it moved again, and the sheep, terrified, were covering every of its movements until she felt it right behind her. She could hear and feel its ragged breathing, Zoya’s stayed encaged in her throat until the realisation settled in. ‘Nikolai?’

She shouldn’t wait, she thought, she should be sending the creature flying to the wall and yet here she stood, like an helpless little girl, waiting for the big bad wolf to have its feast, surprisingly slow, the monster’s claws clutched the collar of her kefta, tugging it to turn her around, she now faced him, the back of its-or his-hand still resting underneath her collarbone, sticky fingers against her skin, the creature seemed to notice this too and as if it was poking its food to see if it was good enough, it pressed and placed that same hand on the side of her throat, the claws grazing the nape of her neck. Zoya watched the red eyes gleam at the feel of her pulse against its skin.

But all she could think about was the gold hair shining under the speck of moonlight.

With its other hand, it reached for her arm.

Enough, she thought as she emerged from her stupor.

Zoya sent the monster flying to the wall.

It let out a deafening screech, meanwhile the moonlight bathed the barn more generously and she finally could perceive more in the dark.

On its knees, the monster spread its wings in an attempt to intimidate her.

She huffed, ‘Come here, birdie,’

Provocation wasn’t perhaps the wisest but it sure give her some comfort.

She caught a glimpsed of the gory scenery on the floor, a lamb, which fur coated with blood.

‘A nice meal, I hope?’

It groaned in response and she arched a brow.

Truthfully, she wanted a warm bath and her soft bed, not to converse with a demon king at night.

She expected more action, but the creature watched her from afar for some time before collapsing on the ground. Out of precaution, the commander waited, see if the monster had the nature of a trickster but at some point she heard snores coming from him and its figure looked less big.

If it’s the king, he must have turned back to human?

Carefully, she stepped closer, Nikolai laid on the floor, on his side, head dangling between his shoulders. Placing her hands against his bare shoulders, she started to shake him, quite violently, but that, she didn’t care much.

Nikolai’s eyelids fluttered open, startled and he frowned, he could barely make out the figure in front of him, an halo of moonlight resting behind the crown of her head. ‘Your Highness’

That voice, he could recognise anywhere. ‘Zoya?’

He felt her hands on his shoulders, he retained himself from shivering, she forced him to sit up.

‘Do you recall anything?’

He shook his head vehemently, he wanted to throw up, a disgusting taste in his mouth and he felt his body disgustingly sticky. ‘What is going on?’

‘This is something we’ll have to figure out once we’re back at the Palace, my king.’ Zoya pulled him on his feet and lead him outside, not letting him notice the lamb he just ate.

Standing in the meadow and looking down at himself, the confusion only grew further, he was half-naked, like he dressed before going to bed, one detail different, he had not gone to bed covered in blood. Nikolai glanced at Zoya, staring at her kefta, the front tore apart, only held together by her right sleeves, the ruined silk dangled low on her chest and he would have immediately looked away had it not been for the bloody fingerprints on her torso and neck, he looked down at his hands, also covered in blood. The realisation weighted on his stomach.

He turned away from Zoya and threw up, leaning forward, hands on his knees.

Zoya grimaced from where she stood, shivering at the sound but she stepped closer to him and touch his back, an attempt at soothing him. ‘Did I-’, he paused to vomit again, ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No, though the lamb can’t say the same thing,’ after a pause, she chortled, ‘well…it can’t say anything anymore.’

Nikolai looked at her in disbelief, but his eyes looked down again at the-his-fingerprints, they were nagging him, with guilt and shame, a territory he would have never dared to venture when conscious.

Zoya watched him, he was practically soaking in blood. ‘There’s a lake near, I’ll explain on the way.’

The commander took hold of his arm, her grasp was light but never faltering, and leading their horse by the bridle. It took a five-minute walk to reach the lake , ‘We need to hurry,’ said Zoya, standing next to him like a stick, Nikolai refused to dive in the water, pleading it was freezing, so he was taking water bit by bit. She rolled her eyes and with a flick of wrist he was prodded into the lake.

Nikolai grunted, pressing his lips together to prevent his teeth from clattering. Zoya arched a brow as to dare him into wasting his saliva. Instead he, with bad grace, rubbed the blood off his body and got out with his now reddish trousers sagging and dripping.

Ready to throw a sarcastic comment, the wind did not let him finish and after a few seconds he was fully dried, Zoya mounted the horse, waiting for him to follow.

‘Just so you know, I’m freezing’, he complained.

‘And you’ll have a tailor to take care of you while we find out what is going on with you.’ her hands tightened on the bridle, her patience thinning, ‘so get on that horse.’

‘Fair enough…’

Nikolai had never been so close to her, he sat behind her, his chest pressed to her back and his hands on each side of her waist, not daring to go any further.

Until the horse had to jump across a trunk, Zoya, without a word, pulled one of his hand across her abdomen so he’d have his arms tightened around her; she was his only source of warmth, it was one painful ride, he thought, freezing all the way and the quicker she galloped the more likely he felt like he would unintentionally crush her within his arms.

To ride with a king on the same horse, that should have sounded like the ending of a fairy tale and yet it was a nightmare to do so. She couldn’t go faster as he seemed to fear to touch her yet his tights would prevent hers to kick the stirrups with more force, he wouldn’t stop shaking behind her and she almost wished to be Corporalki, and most importantly, she couldn’t breath when his head was perched over her shoulder and his cold cheek kept on grazing her skin nor when she felt the tip of his nose find its sanctuary in the space between her ear and her hair.

All hail to the Saints, the Palace came into view.

Zoya couldn’t risk having the king be seen like this, the two got off the horse, she’d let it there, she’d come back for him.

‘Where are we going?’, inquired Nikolai. He did not recognise the path, what he knew was that they were heading to the opposite of the gates.

‘Entering the palace incognito’, the king’s lips titled upwards, ‘Breaking into our own home? Sounds fun.’

In no time, the two were in the gardens, walking silently to the Little Palace, the closest and an insurance they wouldn’t come across somebody too curious, or chatty.

But perhaps, the odds weren’t playing in their favours tonight.

As if on cue, a giggling couple came out from behind one of the bushes, a look of recognition flashed their faces and Zoya couldn’t stop her eyelids to shut in an exasperated manner.

The couple quietly saluted the king and his commander before hastily continuing their path.

Nikolai frowned, looking back at the couple, clueless. ‘Where are they going? There’s nothing there.’

‘Where lovers go.’

His head snapped back in Zoya’s direction. ‘Is it a common place for lovers?’

‘Not really, but it sure is ideal,’ his eyes slitted slightly, then he shook his head, evincing all images of what could happen in those woods, ignorance was bliss.

Quickly enough, Zoya rushed him into her chambers, letting him by himself to fetch Genya and David.

It was only five minutes and curiosity couldn’t kill him so he wandered around the renovated room, the fresh blue tapestry looked electrical almost, Nikolai noticed the abandoned bathtub, its water gone cold, he felt a pang of guilt, whatever happened to him, he feared he’d steal more of their time over this new-found inconvenience. The king stood in her bathroom, staring at the water and digging in his memories anything that he had done, yet he kept getting distracted by the overpowering smell of wildflowers, it had not been enough during the horse ride.

He went back into the main room as he heard three pairs of steps coming in.

The Triumvirate walked in, Zoya with some fresh clothes in her hands, she immediately gave it to him. As they waited for him to get dressed, the trio seemed to be lost in thought.

‘So…’ Nikolai started, ‘we had an interesting night, didn’t we?’

‘A long one, you mean,’ interjected Zoya. She had switched her kefta for her bathrobe, white silk with dark blue details, Nikolai was unsettled by this, seeing her informal in her own room, it was not a sight granted to the many.

They agreed they should take care of the matter the soonest, Genya made sure Nikolai wouldn’t wake up with a cold. Zoya seemed skeptical at the temporary solutions they came up with.

‘Chains? Are you sure this will be enough?’

‘No,’ replied David, ‘but with something to knock him out for the night, it might be!’

The Durast almost sounded hopeful and enthusiastic, ideas already rising in his mind.

‘Thrilling!’, Nikolai commented.

‘Who else should know about his condition?’ Asked Genya, she slightly cringed at her own choice of words.

Nikolai spoke right after, ‘Easy enough, Tolya and Tamar for start, they could stand me as Sturmhond, they will be able to handle a monster.’

He meant to pass it like it was nothing, but as Zoya watched him, she sensed some uncertainty coming off behind his pretence. And she had the feeling he was acutely self-aware, because seconds later, he blossomed this new shield of confidence and optimism.

Later, when they all accompanied him back into his chambers, ready to try out how the chains would work out and she was the last one to leave, she told him: ‘You’ve got the right to be mad about this, your Highness.’

Zoya didn’t let him reply, she was already closing the door behind her.

The entire week she was the one tasked to chain him to his bed, this only fuelled the rumours further, the encounter in the gardens had leaked already, this was inevitable but she’d rather have people talk about a romance between a king and his commander than the possession of a king by the offspring of the dark heretic. ‘Are you sure about this plan?’ Nikolai asked, watching her face intently as she locked the cuffs around his wrists. He could get used to it, he thought as he resisted to reach for the dark curls covering her face. ‘Yes, it’s the best option. We can’t let this out, it’s for Ravka’s and your sake.’

She tugged on his cuffs forcefully, making sure it’d resist. ‘Comfortable enough, I hope,’ teased Zoya.

The corner of his lip flew up, ‘More than I ever been, you should try it someday.’

His commander rolled her eyes however she was amused. ‘Maybe I should.’

His smirk fell.

As if in search for words, he blurt out, ‘You know, I’m offended they all think I last barely ten minutes.’

Her brows curved, ’And I that I’d be contented with ten minutes.’

When she rose to get out, he called for her, ‘I’m not mad, I’m deflated, I thought the worse was behind.’

Zoya turned back to him, ‘We’ll find a way to get this thing out, after all, you’re a king.’

Nikolai smiled slightly, ‘If the great Nazyalensky is hopeful then I already won the battle.’

#zoyalai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #grishaverse #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #nikolai duology #kos #row #rule of wolves #king of scars #writing

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Wanderers: Orestes x reader

Summary: friends to lovers / hurt + comfort but make it Roman, I guess?

Author’s note: this will make more sense if you’ve seen the film, but it’s not essential. This is my first time writing for Orestes (or ever writing historical fiction) so please be kind! And PLEASE tell me if you liked it, loved it, or hated it so I know whether to ever put myself through this again. (This was fun but it took 1000x longer due to Googling a new question about the Romans every 30 seconds. But damn, I learned so much!) Also, I made some definite choices with Orestes’ characterisation and we may not love it, so let me know!

Word count: Why is this 9.5k? I hate myself.

Warnings: 18+only. Unrequited love, explicit smut inc. oral sex, handjob, massage, penetration, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), cumshot. Language. One mention of period blood. Outdated notions of virginity (one reference). Romans had slaves- this isn’t a key theme. Major historical inaccuracies, probably. Typos, definitely. Slight film spoilers?

Song inspo: Oh wanderer, I've been wondering / If your brown eyes still have color, could I see? / That night, that night with those hands, those hands (Wanderers, Cat Power)

Tagging: (PLEASE ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+ REGARDLESS OF TAGS!) @darksideofclarke @damndamer0n @veuliee2 @yougottakeeponkeepinon @himbopoes @phoenixhalliwell @lostgirlheather @justrunamok @aellynera @damerondjarin @blushingwueen @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @holybatflapexpert @arabellathorne @yourbucky084 @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @arkofblake @multifandomlife22

“News of it has reached you, then?” Orestes addresses you glumly as you enter the room, looking up at you from where he languishes in the warmth of his bath, soothing away his sorrows. Bright and delicate notes from a lyre resound around the room, the dappled light streaming in from the courtyard seeming to dance and glint in response across the surface of the water. The air is balmy and the room tinged gold as the desert sun sulks towards its dormitory.

You flinch. Of course you’d heard. The whole city had heard tell of Hypatia’s scathing rebuttal of his profession of love. You had come as quickly as you could in order to console the man.

You admire Hypatia, very much, and that admiration extends to her wicked sense of humour; however, you cannot condone any act which inspires such melancholy in Orestes’ eyes as that which greets you. He is a such a gentle, lovesick soul, after all.

You smooth your face, and continue towards him neutrally and calmly, obligingly pouring the large jug of sweet-smelling oils and petals into the waters. You purposefully avoid Orestes’ gaze as he watches you, his arms stretched out along the edge of the square bath. You have prepared his most preferred concoction, and you hope Orestes does not notice the sheen on your brow, resulting from your exertions in acquiring said ingredients from the market at such short notice.

Surreptitiously, you examine Orestes for signs of distress as you dip a hand in to swill the water and circulate the perfumed mixture, steam rising to meet your flushed face. You note his eyes are puffed and bleary as if he has been crying, his curls uncharacteristically mussed.

“You look as though you might offer me counsel.” Orestes breathes, reading the set of your face with ease. He knows it is unlike you to bite your tongue. Straightforwardness is a quality Orestes admires in women; or, at least, in the few he keeps close. Further, it is a quality he more than tolerates in you, despite your mismatched positions within the household.

“One as lowly as I could not dream of it, Orestes.” You speak coolly and liltingly, in well-rehearsed tones, your voice nevertheless imbued with a bite and authority beyond your station. Your eyes glint subtly with humour as you proceed. “Indeed, I am not as endlessly wise as the esteemed company to which you are accustomed.” You hope you have masked the condescension in your tone sufficiently. As much as you admire Hypatia, occasionally you do stray too close to envy.

“And yet, your eyes are busy with thoughts enough for ten scholars,” Orestes observes, inhaling the perfumes deeply as the sweet musk begins to circulate.

You merely deliver him a wry smile, eyes cast downwards towards the motion of the swirling petals and oil droplets beneath your fingers. “And yet I bite my tongue. It is a skill you may hope to emulate, one day, pupil.”

His eyes shine gently in response to the soft fun you poke at him. “Come, girl. I will at the very least have your skilful fingers calm me. I will accept that as a form of counsel, if you would deliver it.” You finally look at him, your gaze flicking towards his umber eyes and finding them soft and cautious. It is not a command – not in the slightest, although it holds the appearance of one, as befits your position. Instead, you alone recognise it as a plea for comfort, from one friend to another. “You may continue to mock me, if you so wish. Indeed, mockery of Orestes is the favoured activity of the day, for all in Alexandria.”

You may not be a slave, but neither are you Orestes’ equal. He could command you, but the man, ever since he was a boy and you a girl, has only ever treated you with kindness. Still, though he may lapse and appear to forget that you serve him, the thought that you are here only through charity seldom escapes you. Despite that you are of noble birth, your parents had died before you could be married off, leaving a burden of bad debt and ill-repute behind. Orestes’ father had taken you in, owing to the deep, brotherly bond he shared with your own father. So, in the years following, you have worked for your keep. You know you are lucky to find yourself in such a rare and happy position, still being able to enjoy a moderate level of freedom. Plus, your duties are typically performed in service of Orestes, which favours you greatly. You carry them out not only with dedication, but with a song in your heart.

“Certainly, Orestes,” you state, obligingly. “And rather than mocking you, I shall meditate on your superior qualities. I will pray that something comes to mind before the bathwater cools.” You can’t help but chide him fondly, as is habit, and you are pleased that it tugs a hint of a smile from him, at least.

You climb the marbled steps up to the edge of the raised bath, coming to perch behind him where he luxuriates. You lean, reaching for the metal vessel to your side, and from it you drizzle some aromatic oil onto your hands, promptly beginning to massage the meat of Orestes’ shoulders with your deft and expert touch. You take considerable pride in the fact you can usually alleviate the man’s sorrows. Tonight, however, his muscles feel particularly taut, and you must knead him with greater vigour than usual in attempts to dispel the anguish from his body.

Orestes hums against your touch as you settle into your work and find the optimum pressure, though he does not collapse against you to the usual extent. Your brow furrows in concern as you detect the day’s pain and no doubt humiliation in his body. Hypatia had handed him a rag soiled with the blood of her cycle, in front of the whole Agora, unequivocally dismissing his affections. You could not imagine a harsher public rebuttal. Still, there is something to be said for clarity, you suppose.

“I can feel the words in your fingers, girl. I can hear them in your clipped breathing. What is it that you would tell me?” Orestes prompts, and it causes you to still your aggravated breath. It seems that his body is more in tune with your touch than you might expect – seemingly, he can read you as well as you can read him. “Speak plainly, I beg you. Not one of the slaves will counsel me with truth - only theatre and deflections. They will not admit I am cursed.” Orestes complains in a cracked voice, with a wave of his hand towards the slaves standing by with bowls of lye soap and strigils.

“Orestes...” you whisper, softly chiding this dramatic, lovesick fool in hushed tones. “It is a shame you have not pursued a vocation in the theatre yourself, as you oftentimes tend towards the dramatic.”

He huffs out a breath. “Perhaps there is truth in that. Though when love plays out as a tragedy and a comedy -at my expense- what other option is there except to take the stage and denounce this cruel pageant to any who will listen?”

You dig the heels of your hands more firmly into his shoulder blades, satisfied as the ministration finally earns a grunt of pleasure from him.

“Orestes,” you begin as your hands continue to work him. “I would willingly provide an audience for you. Most men think and speak, and yet feeling is like thinking to you. Indeed, whatever is in your heart becomes breath, and I always delight in hearing it.” There is no man you know with such an active heart. “However, I implore you, for a moment now be still and let your heart rest. Let me soothe you, rather than stirring the waters.”

Orestes sighs deeply and then gestures to the slaves. “A moment, please? Leave us, will you?” Orestes asks with a waft of his hand, and they pad obediently out of the room. “And get this lyre out of here, for its happy, mocking notes only ail me further. I can safely declare that music is not the antidote to love I was promised.”

“Shush, Orestes. Still your passions and let me wash your hair,” you soothe. You lift a red earthenware bowl and have Orestes tip his head back, so that you may wet and rinse his luxurious crown of curls. Your fingers weave into the inky tendrils to massage his scalp, your ministrations drawing a contented moan from him. The sound comes like honey, warm and liquid, sweet on his lips, and it undeniably stirs your hunger. You can’t help but trail your eyes over his bare form. His curls are wetted and slick, pink petals clinging to him, making him appear alike to one of the muses, albeit in his male form. His shoulders and back gleam with the glistening concoction of oil and water, the low, golden sun from the courtyard deepening the tan tones of his skin. Orestes is beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Hypatia had spurned him, and you could not understand it. If you could have a man such as Orestes dote on you the way he dotes on his teacher, you are certain you would not be so quick to dismiss his affections. You are certain that you would welcome them. You would welcome his touch. You would welcome his lips. Your thoughts race towards forbidden, carnal ends, and you clench your thighs together, as if you may be able to contain the swell of your arousal.

You sigh involuntarily, a brief whimper of melancholy escaping you as well as you consider the hopelessness of your own plight, and the sound snatches Orestes from the surrounding calm you have instilled in him. Even so, when his voice finds you it is smoothed and steady; no longer as cracked. His tone is more informal, and casual, now that you are truly alone.

“What is it you wish to say, sweet girl? You insist that I still my breath, so I beg you to speak. You need not withhold the truth from me,” he insists. “Can you tell me what I did so wrong? I have been relentless in my pursuit of music-making, so much so that the Gods cruelly visit aulos upon me in my dreams. When it is not her I am seeing, of course… Or, sometimes it is both visitations, sent entirely to mock me, I am certain.”

He still holds out some hope then, even now? Bless his dear heart. You keep your voice soft. As soft as the waning sunlight and the hazy air. As soft as his curls.

“Sweet soul,” you begin, squeezing his shoulders gently to brace him for your words. “I speak the truth out of kindness.” Your words are thick; dripping slowly from your lips. “You seek something from Hypatia which she cannot and will not give you, Orestes. There are others who would freely give what she withholds. To them you must turn.”

“That may be true,” he concedes, “but I want no-one else.” The lovesick man responds dolefully, his shoulders slouching and his voice small. No-one else. No-one at all, then?

You do not hate Hypatia. The woman is free to love or not to love as she wishes. You do, however, hate Orestes’ pain. You hate the love which spawned it. This tragically wasted, unrequited love, which is so abundant within him that he has become alike to an overflowing jug, liquid spilling forth from his eyes as his muse remains unwilling to drink his love down. You would drink from him. You would quench yourself on him as if parched, if he would allow it. You would dance in the waters of his fountain and consider yourself blessed.

“Shush, Orestes. It pains me that you are hurting so,” you soothe, your heart shattering on his behalf as you feel a gentle sob wrack his chest. Your usual balms are evidently not potent enough, and so, it seems, you will be required to concoct a more fitting remedy. “Will you lay on the massage table? Will you let me soothe your whole body? Your anguish is so that I cannot work it from your shoulders alone.”

Orestes twists in his position, turning his head towards you, tears glistening in his eyes like stars in a night sky. What if the sky is perpetually crying, as all of its planets are doomed to wander?

“Sparrow, I will gladly accept your magic fingers, and whatever form of comfort they might offer. The Gods blessed you with such skill and in turn they bless me.”

You smile softly, a guiding hand on his shoulder. “Come then, sweet man.”

“Ah, she no longer mocks me? I shall have to remember the effects of my teary supplications upon you.”

Orestes’ eyes sheen softly as he launches himself from the waters, his nude body shining and as sculpted as the marbled statues of the Agora, not a hint of self-consciousness as he parades over towards the table. You allow Orestes to prepare himself whilst you fetch fresh oils, noting that your robes suddenly feel too heavy and stifling even for the subdued evening heat. You strip off an outer layer, knowing that you will become further flustered as your hands begin their roam all over Orestes’ body. A desire twists in your stomach at the thought and you try to push it aside, focussing whole-heartedly on your pledge to soothe him.

You tug the lush red curtains closed to form a partition around the table, and when you turn back toward him, Orestes has laid himself out on the stone massage table, face down, his crown of curls quickly air-drying and crinkling. As you approach, you can’t help but take in the sight of him all stretched out, in particular his shapely legs and the curve of his buttocks, which are more than pleasing to you. Beads of oil still adorn his skin like glistening jewels, and your urge to touch him deepens.

Clearing your throat gently to indicate your readiness you move close, and Orestes hums softly in acknowledgment. You gently position his legs with unobtrusive and swift hands, moving them slightly apart from one another, and set his arms down by his sides, his palms facing the sky. “Comfortable?” you ask, trying desperately to keep your voice even.

“Yes, sparrow,” he says, as if pre-emptively grateful for whatever relief you care to offer him.

Taking a deep, centring breath, you again pour oil into your palms and rub until it is warmed. Then, despite the stirring and chaos in the rest of your body, your hands are sure and practised as they greet his skin. Orestes is firm and smooth beneath your caress. The man is no gladiator; he is a scholar, a thinker, and his body reflects that. His skin is not marred by battle scars, nor do his arms swell with cultivated muscle. Orestes does have a pleasing natural meat to him, and his body manages somehow to be both soft and strong; alike to his heart, perhaps. You have had dealings with gladiators- many of them brutes, and Orestes’ rarer softness is perhaps what enamours him to you. He may not have cultivated muscles, yet he conscientiously cultivates his mind and his heart. Of course, he has yet to cultivate his tongue, and often speaks too soon, but you can forgive him that. You much prefer straight-talking.

Focussed on easing Orestes, you work your hands into every part of him, relieving all of the knots you can find. Your fingers and thumbs work and knead and strum the muscles beneath his flesh until blissed out sounds are all he can emit, as if you play his body like a lyre, plucking resonant tones of happiness from him.

A sense of satisfaction overcomes you with each contented noise. If Hypatia will insist upon making Orestes cry, making his overflowing jug crack, your caress will insist on moving like potter’s hands over him. Your hands will replenish him as if he were clay; will fill in all of the fissures and restore his shape. You will pledge to leave him more whole than you found him. In pursuit of this, your hands move over his shoulders, his back, his arms, his buttocks, thighs, and calves – even the palms of his hands and his fingers. The action is almost meditative, as you focus in your mind’s eye on turning him to clay. On pushing aside the fact it is Orestes you are touching in such an intimate manner.

“Hmmm,” Orestes hums in praise, once you have rubbed him into near boneless-ness. “They say the planets seek to orbit the earth in perfect circles, but I attest that it is your hands which move in perfect circles, sweet girl.”

Your heart flutters like a locust’s wings at his words of praise, even as you continue tending to him.

You do feel as if you have rubbed perfect circles into his flesh – simply because you feel no other flesh could be as perfect. Who needs Ptolemy or mathematics, when you have the path of your hands over his body? A path you could follow forever, your hands -through practice- finding their most perfect route around him. Learning him more deeply, as you so wish to. Still, to distract yourself from your wants, you focus intently upon the meditative quality of circles repeating.

Circles like orbits. Like cycles. Like a potter’s wheel. Like the circles of his eyes, as warm in colour as worked clay. Like circular breath. Like the mouth of an empty vase. Like gaping spaces wishing to be filled.

You attempt to calm your quickening breath as your thoughts wander, and before long, you wonder if Orestes -oblivious to your wheeling thoughts- has fallen asleep beneath your touch, until you hear him softly suspire. “You are too good to me, dove. I note how well you care for me,” he admits, tentatively. “Of the two of us, I at least pray to the Gods that you can find the happiness which I cannot. It is what you deserve.”

“Do you praise me merely that I might continue, Orestes?” you deflect, as coolly as possible, a thin smile on your face despite your shock at the earnestness of his words. “Turn over and I shall attend to your front now, do not fear.”

He turns over, gladly, as you set about applying more oil, your hands working over his form. You rub his shapely arms and chest, feeling his nipples pebble beneath your touch, inducing a throaty moan from him. You work down his toned stomach and the slight curve and softness of his lower abdomen. You carefully massage up his shins before dedicating greater effort and pressure to the meat of his thighs. The more that you touch him, the more acutely you become aware of the few places you neglect to touch him, until it is all you can think of.

You know he reads you well, and you fear you may be entirely transparent as Orestes reclines on his back, watching you with an intent fascination as you run your hands all over his body. The act, like this, feels a hundred times more intimate. You cannot tell yourself he is inanimate, like clay beneath your touch- now he is a finished work of art before you and his living, breathing presence causes a plague of locusts to flutter nervously in the pit of your belly.

Orestes is overwhelmingly beautiful like this. He has his arms folded behind him, his head propped-up on his interlaced hands. When you finally glance at him, it is merely for a fleeting moment. That is as long as you can bear to look into his deep, intense eyes, or see his tongue darting out keenly over his plush lower lip when your gaze snags there. A gulp trails down your throat and you quickly look down, focussing on where your touch conscientiously works Orestes’ upper thighs. This does little to ease your growing nervousness, especially as you see his exposed member begin to engorge, rising to sit proudly upon his stomach.

You suck in an involuntary gasp when you take in the size of him, half-hardened, feeling that his sword -if fully erect- would certainly be an intimidating weapon. You don’t mean to keep looking; however, once you are looking, you can’t seem to look away. Orestes is pretty there too. So pretty, and so readily responding to you. He is girthy and well-proportioned, plucked hair at the base of him giving him a smooth, clean appearance, and allowing you to see every veined, ruddy inch of him.

You gulp at the thought of him swelling to his full capabilities, and a heat overtakes your loins and you imagine what your hands might do to satisfy this very particular stiffness. As you imagine how you might oil him here too and feel him hard and slippery in your hands, hearing the obscene, wet noises of the slickness around his length as you work him.

Lost in your fantasies, the sudden absence of your touch signals to Orestes that you have concluded your efforts, and he props himself up on his elbows with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. Almost appearing drunk with relaxation, he hums contentedly and this time you swear you feel it reverberate in your core.

“How is it you are able to both soothe and arouse me? My whole body is singing obediently like a plucked string, resonating from your touch.” His breathy words curl beneath your skin and have you singing for him too, your arousal spreading through your body like the warmth of dawn over the horizon.

Orestes’ oiled figure appears like a cast of bronze in the subdued light, the contours of him gleaming and shadowed all at once. His dark eyes are blackened with lust like the mouths of caves, dark and inviting, and all you want to do is climb into him and be surrounded. He always looks so soft to you. So delicate and beautiful. But suddenly, laid out for you like this? He looks masculine and sharp. He looks virile and rough and…

Oh Gods, you think as you snatch your hands away from his body, lest you might cave to your weaknesses. You should not be having these thoughts about your master. About your friend.

You mind flails for a course of action, thinking that it would be proper to move away. To offer him some wine to further soothe him. To, at the very least, do something other than stare at him, yet you feel drunk on him too after so long with him beneath your caress. You don’t want to stop touching him. It is not enough to hold him in your hands. You want to tip him to your lips and drink him down, deep, deep into you.

“Give me your hands, dove,” Orestes asks softly, looking up at you from beneath the fan of his thick, dark lashes.

It is not often that you are lost for words, or that you lose your cool. However, at this moment, your breath is strangled in your throat as if your desire has made your very spirit wane. You can scarce muster movement. Still, you manage to offer your hands to him as he commanded, presenting them to him tentatively as if they are tied at the wrists, unsure what he wishes to do with them once he has them in his possession. Will he thrust his shaft into your hand here and now and have you pleasure him?

In fact, twisting to prop himself on a single elbow, sweet, sweet Orestes wraps his free hand around both of your wrists and brings your hands towards his lips, softly pressing a kiss to each palm in turn as he looks up at you, reverently. The gesture is so soft and so sensual that it brings tears to your eyes.

Oh, how you have longed for a kind touch from him. How you longed that he might press his hands or his lips to you. You routinely pour your comfort into him until he is full and free from cracks. If Orestes is an overflowing jug, by the Gods you are parched. You are an empty vessel and you need to be filled.

“My sweet dove and your magic healing wings,” he praises, his voice slowed and hushed. “If she is my injury, you are surely my balm.”

You huff out air at his words, looking down at the floor in an effort to control the burgeoning tears and tightness blooming in your chest.

“Orestes…” you protest, weakly.

His words are kind and sweet, yet they serve as nothing more than a reminder that you do not stir him. You are well aware you can make Orestes feel peace, yet you wish to excite him as she does. You wish you could summon a storm within him rather than calm waters.

Feeling a little raw and a little caught off guard, you continue, your frayed heart wanting desperately to assert some kind of dominion over him, however tenuous. “While I cannot rival her, I attest that I might provide you something which she cannot give to you.”

“Tell me. What?” Orestes asks, still clasping one of your wrists loosely in the grip of his warm fingers, unthinkingly tracing the pad of his thumb over your oily skin, his eyes languidly wandering previously untraversed routes over the contours of your body.

You boldly continue, a slight quaver in your voice. “Do you not wish to feel desired, Orestes? Do you not wish to feel loved, like you give but don’t receive in kind? I can make it so.”

Orestes laughs disbelievingly then – a warm, deep chuckle. The resonant rumble is jarring in the somewhat still night, evening birdsong and cicadas the only other sounds within the room. He breaks contact with you, and that jars you too. “To which God would I pray to achieve such a feat? Even the pagans do not possess numerous enough gods to make it so, no matter how I may try and appease them.”

Orestes swings his legs around and comes to a sitting position on the stone slab of a table, his hand coming to cup your chin in wonderment and concern that you still refuse to meet his gaze.

“I desire you, Orestes,” you state plainly, your words blurting from you like wine from the neck of an uncorked vessel, served by a drunken man. You can no longer contain them and you offer them indiscriminately. “To be desired - is that not tempting?” You look him right in his umber eyes, your voice faltering, your teeth worrying your lower lip. “Am I at all tempting to you?”

“Sweet girl...” Orestes deflects, caught off-guard himself, his brow furrowing in disbelief as his eyes search yours. He finds no hint of mocking behind them.

“I have seen your sword swollen with need whenever I bathe you, Orestes,” you continue, your voice husky. “While you relax beneath my hands. I know that there must be an inkling of desire within you.” Your voice is little more than breath billowing in the space between you. “Won’t you let me touch you, with my whole, willing body?”

A hard swallow bobs in Orestes’ corded neck, his tongue trailing along each of his lips in turn. The air in between you mingles and becomes charged. However, you know Orestes speaks with his heart. It will take more than a willing body for him to submit to you, you wager. As expected, you look into his eyes and find hesitation there.

Can you really not tempt him, then? Are you so unlovely that he will not take what you freely offer? The fear of such rejection flares in you, and so you offer an unthinking, last-ditch effort. “You can even close your eyes and think of her while I touch you, if you wish.”

At that, Orestes delivers you a grimace, as if he has tasted bitter fruit. “That would be wrong. You should know better than that.”

A flush creeps over you and you wring your hands together, your manner becoming uncommonly deferential, your head bowed. “I apologise. I know you would not soil Hypatia with such actions. Forgive me my insolence.”

You fear punishment. Orestes has never punished you, yet you have never gone so far in your disrespect of Hypatia. However, you are surprised when his hands travel to yours to grip them firmly in his instead.

“Dove, save your apologies. I would not soil Hypatia in such a way and nor would I soil you. You deserve more than that, beautiful, sweet thing.” Orestes’ eyes are soft and searching as he looks upon you, and you are floored again by his disarming sweetness. “By the Gods, why on earth would you offer yourself to me in such a way?”

“Surely you understand, Orestes,” you respond in a small voice. “Wouldn’t you give yourself to her, in any way she would willingly have you?”

Orestes clasps your hands a little more tightly, his thumbs smoothing over your skin in attempts to calm your evident agitation. “Yes, I would,” he admits, though not proudly. “Without doubt, yes. But I am an idiot; hopelessly, pathetically in love.” Orestes speaks plainly, in a self-deprecating manner, as if the situation is both obvious and absurd.

You tug in a breath on which to launch your confession, praying for smooth sailing as the air catches in your words. “And I too am hopelessly, pathetically in love, Orestes. Though I maintain it is only you that is an idiot.” You add insult to injury, just for good measure, hoping the teasing may lighten the burden of your confession.

Confusion then realisation dawn on Orestes’ face and you look bashfully down to the floor as you continue, an involuntary tear forming on your cheek like a glistening trail of a comet through the night sky.

“In that, at least, you and I are equal, if weighed by the measure of our unrequited loves.” you profess, solemnly. A delicate laugh at the comedy of your misfortune ekes out of you then, puncturing some of the tension. “Two of us in love but not desired by our muse. Perhaps the both of us are cursed.”

Orestes looks upon you with a melancholic smile. With sudden affinity. He knows all too well how it feels to be in your shoes. Yet, he similarly has no words of comfort to offer you. He can only counsel you with truth. You wonder, as you look upon him, whether the Gods cursed him with melancholy, yet blessed him with eyes that were beautiful enough to carry it.

“Aren’t we a lonely pair?” he asks, finally, and he leans his head into your bosom dejectedly, accompanied by a hearty exhale. Still, he allows your fingers to tangle in his hair. He does not pull away from the comfort offered as your arms wind around his shoulders. You accept his comfort, in turn, as his arms wrap firmly and pleasingly around your waist.

“We are alike to the wanderers,” you breathe, speaking of the lonely planets and their blind, unfathomable orbits through the dark. Then: “Orestes?” you venture, idly stroking the back of his neck as his hands slip further down your back, shifting to your hips, his breathing becoming more ragged. He looks up at you as you speak his name, his eyes brimming with a quiet vigour. “Tonight, instead of feeling like a wanderer, you could be the centre of the universe. Might we not allow ourselves to feel a little less lonely, if only for a moment? Don’t you want someone who orbits you?”

“Sweet girl...” Orestes breathes. “You want more than I can give you.” Still, he is tugging you closer to him, holding you more tightly.

Your eyes rove hungrily over him. You cannot help it. “I am no fool, sweet man. I know well that I do not have your heart… yet I venture there is somewhere else I might make you pump blood, is there not?”

Orestes’ tongue darts over his lower lip again, the planes of his face looking sharp and angled, half in shadow. Orestes looks at you. Really looks at you, with those glinting and dark half-moon eyes of his. You pump your eyebrows suggestively as his eyes land on you with a questioning gaze, delivering him your most seductive stare from beneath your lashes.

“You are tempting, aren’t you?” Orestes teases with the hint of a cheeky smile, his lips tipping up at the corners. His face begins to come alive with it, before his cheeky edge is blunted by reverence. “In fact,” he teases, shifting his hands even lower on your hips and gently squeezing, “you are beautiful. These hungry looks you bestow upon me? You provide a certain beauty she cannot rival. She will never look at me the way you do, with desire lighting your eyes.” You can but hope that she will seem henceforth like an unfeeling stone in comparison to the liquid desire flowing through you.

“Let me, Orestes,” you plead. “Let me look at you and beauty will prosper in my eyes with every inch of you my gaze falls upon.”

“You truly desire me?” Orestes asks, nestling his head into your bosom again.

“Yes, this is the truth of things,” you respond in earnest. “It is my desire to comfort you in all the ways I know how.”

Orestes becomes bolder with your revelation, his fingers skimming lower, ghosting over your buttocks and splaying over your upper thighs, squeezing you there. “Your legs are quaking, sweet. Is this all for me?”

Both of your breaths are coming quickly, heaving in your chests. You tip your head back and moan silently into the air as his fingers dig into the meat of you, expelling affirmatives from your lips.

“Then tell me exactly. How do you imagine I may achieve such comfort?”

“When you take yourself in your hand, how does it feel?” you question in sultry tones, your hands pawing at any inch of him you can reach, skimming down his back.

“It feels pleasurable.” Orestes responds obediently, a quiver in his voice.

“Now, imagine how my skilful fingers might instead relieve your stiffness. Won’t you allow me to soothe you?”

“Yes. Yes, I will allow it. Come then and soothe me, sweet thing.” A playful, tempting smile blooms on his face, and, sitting on the edge of the slab of the table, Orestes leans back on to his hands, creating space between your bodies. It causes you to double take at the sight of him all over again, nude and oiled and his sword brandished. His eyes flick down to his proud length and you follow his gaze there.

“My sword blazes for you, dove. I am on fire as I keenly await your touch, if you would give it.”

You swallow thickly and keenly oil your palms, again warming the lubricant before you touch him. Your heart thrums in your chest now like the wings of a songbird taking flight. Then, you touch him everywhere except there, brushing against his length with only your thumbs and fingertips, until he pleads that he can take no more teasing. Finally, and with disbelieving relish, you take his fully engorged member into your hands. Starting at the tip and wrapping your hand, you slide one hand and then the other down his shaft, all the way to the base of him, making him slick. Orestes’ hips stutter into your hand from this simple motion alone.

“Your hands are as magic as ever, sweet girl,” Orestes chokes, as if he might spill his seed for you in mere moments. He emits a deep rumble from his chest as you massage him there, both hands on his shaft. There are wet sounds as you coat him until he is gleaming, and as you circle your thumb over the head of him whilst you pump and tug him in the grip of your palms, as if you intend to milk him dry. You squeeze him firmly and add a slight twist to your wrists as you work him, fascinated by the size and hardness and contours of him. Orestes throws his head back, a strangled moan emanating from his slack mouth as his eyes flutter closed from the sensations. He looks as though he might collapse from them, his arms shaking and barely supporting him.

“My dove, the things you are making me feel are surely sent from Elysium.” His voice is like warm desert sand slipping through your fingers, rough and soft all at once.

“You deserve it, Orestes,” you gush. “I want to make all of you feel good. I want to give you everything,” you admit, your voice filled with veneration.

When Orestes tips his head back down from the skies his eyes are hungry. He’s never looked at you like this before. Like a wolf emerging from a cave. Just for a moment, he looks at you as he looks at her, and you feel as bright as the midday desert sun.

“Tell me. What might I give you? My head under your skirts? My fingers buried in you?”

“I am not finished giving to you yet,” you purr. With relish, you sink to your knees, placing your hands flat on Orestes thighs, dipping your lips towards his shaft.

Orestes moans in anticipation, yet tugs lightly on your hair to prevent you from sinking down on him, momentarily. “Your most sacred body part?”

“The Christians believe that. You’re a pagan, Orestes. Let me suck you?”

Orestes nods affirmatively and throws his head back in another open-mouthed moan as your wet mouth finds the tip of him, your tongue winding around his head and the contours of him. He feels warm and fleshy, and his girth strains and swells against your mouth, ridges and veins slipping past your tongue as you flatten it to dip you head all the way down the shaft of him. Sucking on him is divine, the uncharacteristically gruff and desperate noises coming from his mouth spurring you on.

Orestes flails and tugs helplessly at your hair after your continued efforts. “Ungg. Stop, my bird, else I will reach my peak. Your mouth is even more magic than your hands.”

You slide your mouth from his shaft slowly and with a pop, looking up at him deviously with cock-swollen lips. “Now you are trembling, Orestes. Is this all for me?” you purr, tone dark with lust. He moans again, merely from the sight of how carnal and delectable you look like this.

“I want to touch you,” he pleads, desperately. “I need to look upon you. Will you undress for me?”

Touching Orestes and giving him pleasure is one thing, though you don’t know if you can bear him touching you without becoming vapour. Without erupting. A gulp trails down your throat yet you nod keenly. You unfasten clasps and ties and slip the diaphanous fabric away from your body, your robes cascading to the floor in a gathered heap like a despondent cloud.

“Fuck.” Orestes intones gruffly as his eyes trail over you, and he appears to have stalled as he is met with the sight of you. Crude words from his lips are rare, in comparison to his profanity-loving brethren. That the curse is delivered with a voice full of grit and hooded eyes, that you inspired it, has your core clenching around nothing as he looks over every inch of your body in awe and obvious approval.

You move slowly and fluidly towards him, your movements sultry, and Orestes regains his faculties as the need to touch you rather than merely stare at you overtakes him. He takes the jug of oil and tips some into his own hands, rising to stand close enough to you that the tip of his erection presses enthusiastically against your hip. Then, after awaiting a nod from you, he reaches his hands up to rub oil over your breasts, seemingly fascinated by the way your nipples harden beneath his meticulous fingers. He pinches and rolls them and his touch has your core positively molten.

You moan for him, extending your arms out to his shoulders to steady yourself as he puts his hands on you. No-one has touched you like this. Not once in your life have you been touched with such softness.

“You swoon for me, sweetness?”

“I cannot fathom such a divine touch. I think that I must be within a dream for I have your hands upon me.”

Orestes spins you, so that you may steady yourself against the edge of the stone slab, moving to press his hot body against you, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Do not place yourself below me, sweet thing. I intend for us to be equals in our pursuit of pleasure.” He speaks into your neck as his lips drag along your skin, his sprouting stubble grazing you there- the only rough part of him. “Tell me that you desire me, dove.”

“I desire you,” you offer the words to him freely.

“And I you.” he says earnestly, laden with need, his admission sending a shudder all the way down to your core.

Your faces are close now, your fractured breath mingling in the tight space between you, and this heat, oh gods this heat growing between your legs. You cannot help but dip your head as if to kiss him, your forehead resting against his and noses brushing as you whimper and whine with need.

“I cannot exchange breath with you. We must not.” Orestes protests weakly as your lips skim his. Now you understand this regard for your mouth is not simply some Christian notion. You understand that Orestes wishes to save his own breath for Hypatia. Even now.

“She will not love you like this,” you reason, your bluntness a product of your furious need.

Orestes groans and looks perplexed by indecision, even as his hands trail wantonly over your buttocks.

“And yet, I orbit her all the same,” he says resignedly.

“The planets travel the most perfect path possible,” you bargain into his neck. “Yet you insist on travelling the path with most opposition.”

“My heart may be foolish, yet my hands might travel the smoothest path, hmm?”

At that, Orestes’ hands move between your legs, his oiled fingers skimming your clit and your drenched folds. You practically sob into the air. It feels too good. It feels divinely good.

“Will this do, then?” his cheeky smile resurfaces as you buck against his touch, your heat already so sensitive and responsive to him.

“Don’t stop, Orestes. Don’t stop,” you plead and moan, body lurching against him, as you become a trembling mess. You can scarce believe that Orestes’ naked body is held warm against yours, the promise of his erection still pressing against you - still rock hard for you.

“I think there is a way we can both be comforted, dove,” Orestes speaks, his voice overflowing with need. If you wish it, I would have you on top of me as you grind this delicious mess on my sword.”

“Yes. Oh Gods, yes.” Your request is breathy, as if your throat is parched.

Orestes shifts to lay himself out on the table again, taking your hand and guiding you to straddle him. You settle your core over the top of his shaft, your folds pressing up against the length of him. You glide yourself all along the straining mass of him, coating him in your juices; massaging him with your heat alone and shifting your hips in whatever pattern allows you to best caress and engulf him in your warmth and friction. Even without penetration, the sensations are blissful, and you writhe together as each stroke heightens your shared pleasure. Each time you dip your folds wantonly over the head of him, his cock twitches to meet you, as if in attempt to be swallowed entirely by your heat.

Orestes tips his hips up into you, pinning your own hips with his hands, increasing his pressure against your slick as his hardened length slips and slides against you. The way his head skims rhythmically against your clit, the way your folds swallow and caress the tip of him, and the blunt pressure against your entrance have you whimpering for him. You think the pleasure between your thighs must be at the centre of all creation, and you are enthralled by its force as you orbit it.

You loll forward, almost completely limp and unravelled by bliss already. Your hands fall to either side of Orestes’ torso to steady yourself, boxing him in and creating an intimate circle with your arms, your faces close, moans billowing right into each other’s ears, cheeks, necks. Lips hovering close.

“You make me feel so good,” you moan. “Kiss me, Orestes. Please. I beg you. Kiss me just once as if you love me.” your words are breathy and hurried and needy, your coolness entirely undone.

Orestes groans as he continues to grind against you. “I cannot do that, my dove.”

“Then please… please just kiss me?” you beg as you writhe your wetness all over him with increasing pace.

He folds his knees to the rear of you so that he may plant his feet and press himself even more firmly to you. The motion adjusts his angle and he strikes your clit just right, causing you to shiver and deliver a throaty, brazen “fuck” into the air.

At that, Orestes looks at your lips with a growl, and finally caves to his desire. First, he presses a chaste prayer to your lips. It’s as if he tries his utmost to kiss you like he loves you. Perhaps as if he attempts to will it so. However, the truth of it is, he desires you, and as soon as his lips taste yours his mouth returns even hungrier than he began. With his next kiss, your tongues mingle softly, like dissolving honey, before the kiss grows in intensity. With his next, his mouth is opening to devour yours, his tongue probing and tasting the cave of you, your moans stifled as his soft lips crush against you.

“I wish I could hold you inside of me,” you say longingly into his kiss as you approach your peak.

“I wish it could be so, my sweet. Alas, I cannot release my seed inside you, and nor can I take your innocence. That gift is yours to give to whomever you may marry.”

“Orestes, you sweet fool. I am not innocent. And there is no other I would marry. You may not love me, Orestes, but I orbit you all the same.”

As the sensations intensify, you enjoy the slick, solid mass of him beneath you. You relish edging him closer and closer towards his end. Lost in the throes of pleasure, Orestes clasps you to him so tightly, his arms surrounding you in a perfect circle. You writhe and moan and whimper for each other, your crushing embrace at once both melancholic and urgent, his lips meeting yours again and again in desperation, as if famished. You taste salt and you know not whether it is he who is crying or you, or some combination, but it doesn’t matter in this moment. You would drink his tears down. Drink all of him down.

“I will find my peak in only moments,” you warn. “I will reach it soon.”

“And I too. Come, get beneath me,” Orestes suggests, his typically smooth voice ragged.

He flips you urgently and you settle beneath him, legs spread open, more than ready for him to nestle between them.

“You truly wish to have me inside of you?” he asks, examining your face for any hint of hesitation.

“Yes, Orestes. Yes. Please.”

He rubs your clit skilfully until you are evidently on the edge of bliss, maintaining a blunt pressure against your entrance with the tip of him. Finally, he dips to plant kisses on your lips, your neck, your chest as he drives his whole length forward, sheathing himself in your warm, surrounding depths. One thrust is all it takes and you are clenching around him, writhing in a display of pleasure, moans directed at the sky in praise of the Gods as your release bursts through you like the birth of a flaming sun.

Orestes mutters strings of soft praise and crude profanities into the air. His breaths become laboured gusts of air as he attempts to stave off his end whilst you tighten so deliciously around him, his eyes screwing shut as he brings himself under control, his body trembling.

“Where, sweet? Where?” he manages to choke out.

“Let me taste you,” you invite, and he thrusts deeply into you once more before pulling out and coming to his knees, taking his shaft delicately in his hand, his needy cock twitching for some contact, some release. The head of him is ruddy and swollen and he looks fit to burst as he gleams with a concoction of oils and your juices.

“Unnggg. I need to find my end. Oh Gods,” Orestes begs, and you transfer your position as quickly as possible to all fours to oblige him, bringing your mouth to his shaft.

The first hot rope of cum spills over your lips and chin at the mere suggestion of filling up your pretty, eager mouth, and the remainder of his seed pumps into you, salty and sweet as your lips and tongue surround him. He moans and stutters as he fills you up with each pulse from his aching balls, grabbing your head as he sinks the length of him down into your throat as deeply as you can take him. Groans and praises tumble from his lips as you suck him dry, his relieved shaft throbbing in your mouth.

You tease Orestes with further kitten licks to his sensitive head, easing him gently down from his high. You hold him there until you are sure you have drained every drop from him; even until he has softened, feeling entirely unwilling to relinquish his delicious cock from your mouth. Once he is freed, you lick the stray salty release from your plump lips as he regains himself, looking down at you with something resembling awe.

“You are beautiful,” he praises, in disbelief.

“As are you,” you respond with a blissed-out smile, your tongue flicking to savour the residual tang of him on your teeth.

You collapse on to the stone slab together whilst you regain your breath, ending up top-to-toe. Orestes insists on tasting you too, nuzzling his head in between your hot thighs to lap at your own sweet release, sending shuddering aftershocks through your body as you feel his eager lips and tongue nestle over your core. When your clit becomes too sensitive you giggle in protest and shift on the slab until you are each stretched out on your side, using your elbows as pillows and looking into one another’s eyes.

You are happy. You are. And yet, a single disobedient tear rolls down your cheek, causing Orestes’ brow to furrow in concern.

“Sweet girl, I am sorry for your pain. How I wish that I could give my love to you, sparrow.”

“Shush, sweet soul. Don’t stir the waters. Simply let them still for a moment,” you counsel softly, an even smile on your face even as your eyes shine with sadness. He returns your smile and reaches out to brush your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“I will try, though you have riled all the waters within me to a frenzy, my peak washing over me like a great wave.”

A broader smile blooms on your face then. You have stirred him after all. You snuggle close to him as he lazily traces nonsense shapes on your arms and back with his fingers, and you lie there together in comfortable, quiet contemplation, wanting to savour whatever this had meant to each of you. You remain there, until your heart calls you to fracture the silence.

“I must go,” you whisper reluctantly, shrinking from him as you withdraw, alike to a flower withdrawing its petals from a waning sun.

You push yourself up to a seated position on the stone table, yet Orestes’ hand flicks out to wrap around one of your wrists. “Don’t. Don’t go,” he pleads.

You look at him softly, with infinite fondness. “You and I both know that this afterglow you are feeling is not love. I wished to bask in this false sun for as long as possible, yet I do not wish to be here when it fades, Orestes.”

You look into his eyes and his admiration blazes so brightly for a false sun that you could almost be convinced of it.

“First, tell me- did it comfort you too?”

“It did,” you reassure, truthfully, hopping down from the table and beginning to gather your strewn garments. “Though, it is both a comfort and a torture to know that not only are you sweet as honey, beautiful as a muse, sharp as a scythe, and funny as a curse tablet... you are also skilled at swordsmanship. The Gods truly excelled themselves with you.”

Orestes’ eyes gleam, happy to see your playful nature shining through once more. He swings his own legs to retake his seated position, facing you as you redress. “Hmm. High praise from one usually so mocking. Though you evidently forget that I can now play the aulos. Another superior quality for your ever-lengthening list.” He grins broadly at you, and you find him disarming all over again.

Orestes grabs your wrist and tugs you into him in a swift motion, wrapping a single arm around your waist and looking up at you with new eyes as your laughter lilts down toward him.

“Though, in truth, dove,” he smiles fondly, “I think you brandish a sword better than I. You are all that I am and more, I venture.”

You settle your arms around him again, fingers twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck. “We are more alike than I realised, then,” you say pridefully.

“Yes,” he agrees, “It is so. After all, we were both stupid enough to fall for the wrong person.”

His eyes spark with humour as he delivers his words, but there is a sadness buried beneath which you are determined not to unearth. “And tonight, Orestes, we were smart enough to make the best of it, for once.”

You smooth your face again, trying not dwell on his insistence that you each fell for the wrong person. Hypatia may not be a match for him, but you still cannot accept the notion that he is in any way wrong for you.

Instead, you concentrate on the way Orestes’ eyes glow in admiration as he gazes up at you, a smile lingering still on his lips. He reaches up to your cheek to caress you there, but you snatch his hand playfully in yours before he can fulfil his intention.

“Careful, Orestes, do not fall for me,” you caution chidingly. “I have been told you are cursed. I, for one, want nothing of it.” You flash him a sad yet cheeky smile, before reaching out to caress him on the cheek instead, tenderly flattening your palm to his face.

You are reluctant to end your encounter on a sombre note, and yet there are things which must not remain unspoken.

“If you need me Orestes, I am here. And, it must be said… I love you. You are loved, and you are more than worthy of it, sweet soul. Some with the cheek to call themselves scholars of the stars evidently neglect some of the sky’s greatest wonders. That is their loss. What a dark night, I think, without the brightest star in the sky.” As a final gesture, you smile softly and dip your face to press a shy, chaste kiss to his cheek. Orestes’ eyes flutter closed as your lips brush against him, and he watches you with shining, grateful eyes as you pad out of the room.

You leave him, you hope, a little less overflowing. A little less cracked. He leaves you a little less empty. A little less parched.

Maybe Orestes will resolve to pray to the Gods that he can love you in return. Maybe one day soon he can. If it is your fate, then so be it.

Though you dare not invite hope in yet, perhaps you need not wander so alone along your path, now that you have spoken your truth. Maybe when the paths of wanderers do not run in perfect circles, all that remains is to create a new model of the planetary system.

For now, you glance back at him as you ready to leave and he is still looking at you in that rare way, even as tears pool on his cheeks. He is looking at you as he looks at her. As the sun sinks towards its dormitory, you feel momentarily like your star is rising.

For now, that will have to be enough, because he has nothing more to give you.

#oscar isaac #orestes x reader #orestes #historical fiction #agora

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years

Note

Got to be honest... I love the mermaidau! theme too. Could you pls give us a pt2 cause I need to know how is their rlp gonna evolve. (Feel like even writing a hole 2k word fanfic with this au and im not ashamed 😂)

(Pst, anon is referring to this request!)

Mwaaaha yeeees... YEEEEES !!!! I'm so glad you guys like this au lmao 😂😂 All I have to say is, I hope y'all can come through with this mermaid au when summer hits, bc that's my JAM 😤

Even if I don't get another mermaid au request until then, like please y'all, I'm begging you lol

But anyways, tumblr has decided that doing all four on here is too long, so I’m posting half now and I’ll link Paul and Ringo before the day’s over! (Also bc I lost like half of Ringo's story last night, and I have to rewrite it, so rip :') ) Enjoy!

Paul and Ringo this way!

George

It's quite a bit before George can see you again

He had to take up a job, even with school, and practice, and family, and friends, and the occasional gig... just to save up

But when he finally got enough to buy that bike... It was all worth it

It's almost as prized a possession as his guitar, and the very next day after purchasing it, he loads up a blanket and some food and heads off for the lake

The ride from home to the water is a bit long, but nothing he can't handle

At long last, he arrives at the tiny pier and he can hardly contain himself as he sets the kickstand and grabs his things

He rushes down and sets up shop

In his excitement, George has forgotten to consider whether or not you'll even show...

But he doesn't want to give up yet

So he waits

And waits

And after a few hours pass by, he decides he might as well have his lunch instead of skipping rocks and wading in the water all afternoon

George swims over to the edge of the pier and clasps into the plank to hoist himself up

But before he can complete the maneuver, he finds himself jerked back down again

It's gentle enough that he doesn't get submerged, but it's certainly enough to give him a start

He splutters and flails a little, turning around as quick as he can to see...

Oh, it's you...

George breathes a sigh of relief, even as your eyes watch him from just above the water line, your hair floating on the surface like an angel

Your eyes go wide in excitement, and you peak your head all the way above the water, giving a soft gasp of surprise

"It is you! I can't believe you came back!"

George's heart hammers in his chest, whether it's from the surprise, the physical activity, or something else... He doesn't know

"O-of course I am! I said I would, didn't I?"

You laugh, "So you did! ...By the way, what have you got up there?"

George looks over his shoulder to the picnic basket that's clearly in view, then back at you

He waves you over and pulls himself up at last

When he's turned around, you've disappeared and George's heart drops

Well, not for long. A moment passes, followed by a huge splash as you jump from the water to the pier

It's not a perfect jump, as you need to pull yourself up a bit, but you make it well enough

George is halfway through unloading the basket, but he finds himself incredibly distracted by your tail

He doesn't mean to be rude it's just... It's almost like you weren't real before now

The tail is nearly twice the length that human legs would be. It tapers all the way down to a fine and delicate point that flares out into a transparent, forked fin

There are smaller fins like this along the rest of your tail, George notes, providing gorgeous accents to your shimmering iridescent scales

You swish your tail behind you, feeling a bit shy

George shakes himself out of his stupor, "Oh, sorry! I just... Wow"

You huff a laugh and mumble a thanks, not quite out of the awkwardness

"Um, here, I brought you something", George hands you a carefully wrapped sandwich

You give it a sniff and wait for George to taste his first

It tastes fantastic. Unlike anything you've ever had before

George tells you it's called a "ham and cheese"

Before you know it, the two of you jump into a whole conversation about life above and below water

You talk all afternoon and into the evening. George, doesn't even realize how low the sun's set until he takes a moment to stretch and look up

"Oh, I suppose you should be going..."

"Yeah..."

George looks at you and then the water one more time

It's like a pool of gold out there, the orange and yellow reflecting so beautifully on the water

"Say, how about one more swim?", George nods towards the water

Needless to say, you both race in for a last dip

You swim laps around George as he move slowly through the water, and you find yourself growing bored rather quick

"Ugh, here hold on!", You laugh and roll your eyes as you latch onto George from beneath

He doesn't protest, and you tow him easily back and forth through the water

It's not as fast as you could go, but it's faster then George has ever achieved on his own

It's actually great fun, but all things must end, and after a few rounds you glide to a stop surrounded by golden ripples

You sigh and look around, letting him go, "Sorry, it's late. I didn't mean to get so carried away..."

George wades just inches away from you, "No no, it's alright! I um, I had fun"

"Really?", You smile

"Really...", George floats a little closer to you, and you can feel his warm breath caress your hair, "In fact, m-maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

Before he even gives a thought to what he's doing George's lips meet yours halfway, pressing far softer then you'd expect from a rough teddy boy like himself

It's one of those kisses where you don't even have to think, or give subtle hints

Everything just feels right

Your heart does a flip when you separate, and George sticks by his promise

It gets to the point where you have a schedule to meet each other, getting the most out of your daylight hours

From now on, no more waiting

Just you, and him.

John

John's been visiting you for quite some time now, bringing you shiny things on occasion, but mostly just enjoying your company

You're on a first name basis and everything

It's strange almost, John feels quite special

After all, he might be the only lad in all of England to befriend a mermaid!

Although lately, he's been feeling... Different about you

He must be mad

But it's just...

You're so sweet, and kind, and you listen and understand him like no one else ever has before, an-

Ugh

He must be going mad

That would certainly explain why he's buying you a locket with his latest savings

It may be from a second hand store, but he knows you'll love it

The locket is shaped like a heart and made of brass

The metal is a bit tarnished but the small heart shaped ruby in the center is bright as ever

It's perfect

John takes it home and hides it away from Mimi

She doesn't know about you, but she has some suspicions about a girl...

That's certainly not something John wants to talk about, so he's trying to be as covert about you and him as possible

But before he can hand off his gift to you, he needs to sneak one of Mimi's pictures of him

She has a few up in the attic, which John is easily able to swipe and cut out to fit in your locket

There. Now it's perfect

John gets a good night's rest and heads out bright and early to your cove the very next day

He arrives to find you splayed out on a bed of shells and trinkets, sun bathing

"Hello birdy!"

You spring up and turn to face him, "Johnny!"

Patches of sand stick to your skin, shimmering like glitter in the sun

John whips off his leather jacket and shirt as he goes to sit beside you before removing his boots and socks as well

It's a bit of a custom for him ever since he started feeling comfortable around you

The beach is rather hot, yes, but more so, he likes that you make him feel confident enough to take all that off in the first place

You don't know this, but it's a huge sign of the trust he has in you

The two of you talk and catch up a bit on the few days you were apart

John tells you about school, and you about your adventures at sea

Both of you are equally fascinated about each other's worlds, and both wish a bit that they could live like the other does

You've offered to take John out to sea, but he's not to keen on wading that far out in the ocean

When the conversation starts to run dry, John remembers his gift at last

"Oh by the way, I brought you something..."

You perk up, not suspecting anything other then the usual shiny pebble or coin

But then again, John seems... Different

You could swear you see a blush climbing his cheeks

"I uh, saw this and thought of you...", He holds out an old, worn locket. The Ruby heart and tarnished brass flash and glint in the sunlight, mesmerizing you

You gasp softly, and reach for it slowly, as though you're dreaming

"Do you fancy it?", John asks nervously

"John, this is beautiful..."

You click the heart open and reveal a raggedly cut picture of John smirking back at you from behind a heart shaped lid of glass

You trace your finger along the picture's edge, a trance like glaze over your eyes

"I um, I thought maybe you could wear this one... You know, that way you could always have me with you when you go out to sea... Or... Something", John mumbles, wondering if he sounds even half as stupid as he thinks he does

He peaks over at you once, then twice as you look at it in silence

"It's alright, you don't have to-"

"Could you put it on me?"

John looks stunned, as though he's surprised you actually like his well thought out gift

"Uh, I- sure"

You hand him the necklace and turn

John lifts it over your head and lowers it slowly

The metal is warm from John's hands as it touches your skin, and John fastens the clasp in a jiffy

"There you are..."

You turn around again, eyes shining brightly with joy, the heart clasped in the palm of your hand

A knot forms in John's stomach, seeing you look so happy with him like that, and suddenly he feels sick

He has to say it

He knows be does

He has to tell you now, or it's going to kill him

And yet, if he does tell you, that might kill him too

"Ugh, I must be mad..."

You quirk an eyebrow, "Wha-?"

"I love you", John blurts it out as though it was tortured out of him

It's not very sweet, or romantic, or charming...

No, it's actually much more like he just spat on the sand and continued on

But you know John by now, and to you, it's more then enough

You put your hand over his and lean in to press a gentle kiss to his burning cheek

"I love you too Johnny"

John's breath hitches in his throat, and looks at you with a gaze he's never given any other woman in the world

"Really?" His voice is the barest of whispers

But you don't need to answer, John is already pulling you in for a kiss as he lays back on your small pile of treasure

It's not his first make out session, and it won't be his last

But with you? Right here, on the beach, in the warm sun, laying cozied up on his bare torso?

It's the one he remembers most, for all his life

#the beatles #john lennon x reader #george harrison x reader #mermaid!reader #the beatles x reader #beatles imagines

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zordonmlw7 · 3 years

Text

Plaguetober Day 2 - Protect 🛡

The dim glow of the campfire illuminated Sir Alfharis as he tried to warm himself in the cool fall night. He’d cloak himself in his cape, but it was currently being used by one little girl curled up, leaning against him.

“Run!”

His voice still haunted him. Memories of how the two got here flashed in his mind briefly. He wasn’t ready to relive them. He figured he should at least think of a plan of what to do with her.

He glanced at her face. It was peaceful. Was she truly at peace? He found that hard to imagine. But if peace was still a hope for her, he begged with every ounce of his being that she could find it.

SNAP.

His train of thought interrupted, he instantly went on high alert. Not another threat. Not today. Had they not suffered enough? Was a lifetime a pain condensed to a single arc of the sun not ENOUGH?

Alfharis unclasped his cape and stood slowly, not wanting to disturb the girl’s sleep. He unsheathed his blade and took on a defensive stance. It was probably safer to run, but he was exhausted. His sword wavered in his unsteady hands. He’d sooner die protecting her sleep than risk waking her up to find another thing wanting her dead.

The creature that threatened them soon grew close enough for its eyes to shine in the dark. Alfharis recognized them immediately. He had fought them many a time before. Never alone, though. Always with his band.

Thoughts of his compatriots brought him to tears. Captain Gawain. Lady Primrose. Sir Peter. His name stung the most, tugging at his fast beating heart.

The beast stepped forward. It was definitely a big one. Perhaps the goodbyes he had bid his siblings-in-arms when he left the ransacked village was premature. Faced with an opponent this menacing, it was apparent that he would be joining them soon enough.

Still… there was her. She deserved a better fate than dinner for an ungrateful beast. He charged the beast, trying to plunge his blade into its chest. He managed to penetrate its thick pelt, but was knocked by a powerful swipe from its claws before he could even break bone.

Alfharis knew he couldn’t let the creature notice her. He immediately slashed at its flanks from the floor. The beast let out a low growl and tried to bite his thigh. Though pinched by the pressure, his armor protected him from having his flesh torn. With what might he could muster, he jerked his leg out of the beast’s mouth and rolled a bit away from the campfire.

Again trying to keep the creature’s focus on him, he slashed at its tail, near the base. He must have got a good shot in, because the creature let out a wretched yell. The tail swiped at him in retaliation, but the creature was clearly in too much pain from the wound to do any real damage.

Alfharis took the opportunity to raise himself onto a knee and then slashed at the tail again, this time closer to its end. This managed to successfully provoke the creature, as it finally turned around to face him properly.

“Good luck, kid.” Alfharis thought before bolting into the darkness. He frantically looked behind him, hoping that his plan had succeeded and the creature was following him, away from the campfire and the young girl it was meant to protect. Two glimmering eyes, harder to make out in the darkness, followed him.

As he ran, he tripped over a root. The ensuing tumble robbed him of his last wind.

“Darn…” he thought. He had hoped to put up more of a fight for his grand finale. But in this state, he could barely move. He was too sore. All he could hope for now was for the creature to quickly finish him off by biting his neck like an efficient predator. They were not exactly creatures of efficiency though. Quite the opposite, in fact. They had a reputation across the continent as vicious killers who made a bloodbath of their victims. They adored playing with their dinner. But maybe Alfharis would get a miracle.

And a miracle he received.

From the darkness, a burst of flames blasted the creature. Though the flames gave off little light, they burned bright enough for Alfharis to make out a masked figure. It seemed to be holding an apparatus. After the first burst of flames faded, he heard a foot step forward followed by the sight of a second burst of flames. The creature fell to the ground and the masked figure continued to bathe it in fire with its apparatus.

Alfharis let out a long sigh of relief. He heard the figure swiftly shift its stance in response.

“Thank you…” Alfharis spoke slowly. Truly, he had no way of knowing if the masked figure meant to save him. Nevertheless, he felt it was safer than letting the figure think him a threat.

The figure stood quietly before finally speaking. “Do you need help?” It had a soft voice that seemed to echo a bit. It reverberated like when one speaks into a mason jar.

“Admittedly, I do,” he responded earnestly.

He heard the rustle of footsteps and shuffling and managed to find the figure’s hand, reaching for him in the dark. With its help, he was pulled up to his feet.

“I’m looking for someone,” the creature informed him.

“I… see?” Alfharis said. It seemed his gratitude was being cashed out immediately.

“A little girl. Have you seen one?”

“I… have.” Alfharis worried about what the figure’s intentions were for the girl, but also feared the consequences of lying to someone holding an apparatus capable of shooting fire. “Why do you seek her?”

“She is my daughter,” the figure said.

Daughter? He had thought the girl was the only survivor of the raid. Well… not counting Alfharis himself. Perhaps some had managed to escape?

“Where is she?” the figure asked.

“She’s just over here.” Alfharis led the figure to the campfire where the little girl continued to sleep, despite all the noises made during the battle. Even now, he hesitated to wake her, but if this was truly her mother, then she deserved to be reunited with her.

As the two walked into the ring of light created by the dying fire, he was able to make out more of the figure. The creature wore a black suit which, when coupled with its mask, covered every inch of skin. What stood out however, was the figure’s brilliant cornblue hair sticking out from the back of its mask. As Alfharis mused over the unusual color, the figure removed its mask, revealing more unusual features: periwinkle skin, spiked ears, and glassy eyes with dark blue sclera lacking any iris or pupils.

“A fae?” Alfharis said aloud.

“A changeling,” it corrected him. “Just like her.”

Alfharis looked back at the girl. Black hair. Dull ears. Olive skin. She certainly looked nothing like the changeling in the black suit before him.

“We changelings do not raise our young. We leave them among the mortals to be raised by parents whose children died in the womb. Normally, it would not be time to collect her. However, without her caretakers, she would surely die. So, I must take her back with me to the realm of the fae.”

“What awaits her in the realm of the fae?”

“She will be my plaything, as all my children are. Admittedly, I’m not sure how exciting she will be to play with when she is still not ripe. However, she may surprise me! We shall have to see.”

“A… plaything? She’s a child. Do you truly see her as only a toy?” With those words, Alfharis began to reach for his sword.

“Well not only a toy. Sometimes, I like my children enough to stay friends with them even after moving on to a new child to play with. After all, those who I don’t befriend usually try to kill me. It’s the only way to inherit in the faerie court, you see. And so, I usually have to kill them first. If another opportunistic offspring doesn’t beat me to it. The blood game can be its own kind of fun, after all!

But it is so dreadfully peaceful at the moment. I could not bare it any longer. It’s why I don’t just wait to see if she manages to survive on her own a bit before fetching her. Or just have another kid and wait for it to grow up. After all, they only take 28 years to ripen.”

Alfharis did not know what to do with any of this information. All he knew was he could not allow this young girl to fall into the changeling’s hands.

“Please… she’s only a child. You cannot subject her to that,” he pleaded.

“Really now? Are you trying to ransom a child off to a fae?” The changeling rolled its eyes before digging in its pockets and pulling out a sack of coins that she tossed at Alfharis. “Here. This should be enough human gold to appease you.”

Alfharis eyed the pouch with suspicion. But upon inspection, it contained 12 gold pieces. That would be enough to keep Alfharis set for years, if not the rest of his life.

“I cannot accept this,” he said.

“More? Ugh, you humans are stingy. I can’t imagine you would have gotten more from selling her, but nevertheless…” The changeling pulled out another sack before Alfharis stopped her.

“No. I cannot accept this because you cannot take her. She just lost the only family she ever knew. The home she grew up in. An entire village of culture and tradition. She deserves a chance to mourn the life she knew before being thrust into one of entertaining an immortal and risking being killed by a sibling looking to claim their inheritance.”

“You mortals are so dramatic. Look, if you thought the carnage at that village was tough, just wait until you see me when I’m bored. Don’t you wonder why immortals reproduce? It’s not because we’re worried about the death of our species. We are so well established, we could never have another child again, and I’m sure we’d still outlive existence itself. The reason we reproduce is to witness the amusement that is life! Now. I am returning home with a companion. Hand her over.”

“...A companion you say? That is all you seek?”

“Yes! Have you humans changed language again so much so that you don’t understand me?”

“Does the companion need to be her?”

“Huh? An interesting question. No, not really. An animal certainly won’t do, though. I tried them eons ago and they stop being interesting after only a few weeks. I need an intelligent creature. Which I’m hoping she’ll grow into soon enough.”

Alfharis got on one knee. “May you take me in her stead,” he said.

“Oh? Fascinating. You are aware that a mortal who chooses to reside in the fae realm is condemned to it forever, right?”

“Please. I have nothing left in this world.” He once again thought of Sir Peter, who sacrificed himself to the onslaught of raiders so that Alfharis and the girl could escape. “Saving her… her whole village, really. It should be my last mission. And even if I failed the rest… If I can protect her, then perhaps our efforts won’t have been for nothing.”

“Yes, yes… So you are fine being my plaything?” It clasped his face with its gloved hand.

“Yes… I ask just one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I will not leave her side without a guarantee of her safety.”

“Well that much is easy!” the changeling exclaimed. Crouching over her, it patted her head, causing her to shimmer slightly, all without disturbing her sleep. “A charm! It will protect her from all bodily harm.”

That easy? Could the fae have blessed the villagers, preventing this tragedy? Were his compatriots slain for nothing? Alfharis refused to dwell on this line of thought. Alfharis took from his satchel a quill and parchment and left a note for the girl telling her of an inn she could stay at. If she showed the owners the crest on his helmet, which he proceeded to remove and place over the note, he was sure they would let her stay. He stuffed the satchel with the packs of gold given to him by the changeling and with that, his preparations were complete.

“Alright, I’m ready.” And with his signal, the changeling led him away, to the world of the fae.

#plaguetober #plaguetober2021 #bruh i was expecting this to be shorter than my day 1 entry #i didn't even know if I would be able to make my 1k goal #i somehow hit 2k words in this one #HOW #probably because I put filler in accidentally #oh well #shut up zordon

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