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cthulhus-curse · 15 days ago

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Her Majesty

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 7,030

Warnings: Princess Wanda Maximoff, Curses, First Times, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Smut | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When the princess gets cursed it causes a rift between your friendship which soon blossoms into something you’ve longed for since first seeing her.

Sunrises were ones you typically ignored unless the day ahead was one to remember. You’d sleep through them, huffing while going back to sleep for a few hours before your presence was required. No matter your occupation, you were high enough in the ranks that your superiors wouldn’t mind. Especially if one of said people had a knack of similarly remaining asleep.

Being friends with the princess wasn’t something you’d sought out for. If anything it was destiny that brought you together. Your father had been a knight as had his own father. He wasn’t too keen on having his only daughter join the king’s forces, but given how stubborn you were to follow his path, it was impossible to talk you down. It was then that as a young girl you got to feast your eyes upon not just the king and queen, but his son and a daughter you couldn’t easily ignore. Since that first day when you faithfully introduced yourself to Wanda, you were inseparable. So much so that at times you helped her sneak away from the tedious royal life to live normally by your side.

Each week you had a standing scheduled time together. Wanda usually left the castle early in the morning before the rest of her family awoke. Pietro knew of course, but when she promised to put in a good word for him with princesses of neighboring kingdoms, he remained quiet.

Fields of ever growing green surrounded the princess as she galloped on her horse, a hood covering her face so as to not be recognized. The blooming Spring trees brought up fresh air that she breathed in happily, exhaling with giddiness at the idea of seeing you again. Leaving the kingdom and entering the forest, she knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she saw you.

If only you had awoken earlier that day instead of ignoring the sunlight then perhaps she would’ve been safe.

More than an hour passed and Wanda remained sitting in the middle of the forest, patting Sparky’s head who snorted as he grew tired of standing around the woods. She never failed to bring fresh breakfast from the kitchen – bread for her, carrots for Sparky, and warm pancakes for you which most definitely were cold by now.

“She’ll be here soon,” she told her loyal horse. “I know it.”

And when you didn’t appear in the following five minutes, she grew bored. Wanda wasn’t known for her patience. As a princess she was used to getting whatever she wished, whenever she wished. Surely she was much kinder than any of the other royals you had the displeasure of meeting, but her spoiled nature wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Wanda guided Sparky as she walked around the forest. Soothing chirping sounds amazed her alongside the light gust from the early morning. Branches crackled beneath her feet – she thankfully remembered her riding outfit that day, opting to wear it along with boots, tie her hair in a loose braid, all so she wouldn’t have even a strand of hair covering her sight as she stared at you.

A frown overcame her when seeing a small hut standing between a family of trees. She tilted her head, humming with confusion at the small building. Although you two met there each week away from the kingdom, she had yet to venture forth enough to find such a peculiar place.

Shrugging with deep innocence, she tied Sparky against the trunk of a tree and went off to explore.

When first knocking on the door, Wanda wasn’t given a response. She sighed, attempting once again only to receive a chilling silence in return. Her curiosity got the best of her as she turned the knob only to find it open, instantly stepping into the small house.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Wanda called out.

She was greeted by darkness, only a shining light laying on the deep end of the room. It was a beautiful bright red that caught her attention, eyes widening as she followed it. When reading the table, she found a book laying beside a small vial containing the scarlet liquid.

“Oooh shiny!” Wanda giggled as her fingers turned red to mirror the drink. Just like her mother, she had powers which went beyond that of normal humans. “I hope no one minds…”

Wanda flipped open the book with a smile on her face. She was far too hypnotized by the small vial that after opening it, she urged herself to drink it. On second thought it was far from the brightest choice she had made. Not only was it a mysterious liquid, but it also burned its way down her throat leaving her coughing as she read the book.

“Draco,” was all she could muster out while her eyes flickered over the page. “Incantamentum? I-”

“What the hell are you doing!”

Before Wanda could so much as turn around, she felt her entire body beginning to boil, her insides growing warm as she fell on her knees hissing with pain. The last thing she saw before all went dark was a brunette standing over her, fingers dark as they glowed purple with fear.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

When Wanda finally awoke, she fell off the bed she resided on. Her breathing was ragged while her face, her body at that, burned brightly. Her first thought was that she became delirious and never made it out of her room that morning, but as she took in her surroundings, she gasped.

“Good, you’re awake. I got scared I’d accidentally killed you,” a voice said from the other side of the room. “I don’t think the king would take it lightly if I took his only daughter’s life, but to be fair, you were asking for it.”

“What? Who are you? Where am I?” Wanda rose to her feet, her back aching as her green eyes met ocean blue ones that towered above her.

“You broke into my home and you don’t know where you are? I never thought the princess would be this much of an idiot,” she grumbled under her breath. “I’m Agatha, dear, the witch who you stole from. Now I need you to tell me what exactly you did to make you look like,” she paused while pointing at you, not finding the right words, “this.”

“Are you calling me ugly? Well, hag, I’ll let you know that I-”

“I liked you better when you were asleep.” Agatha shook her head, flicked her wrist, and forced a full-body mirror to appear beside the bed. “Before you accuse me of anything and worsen my headache, take a look in the mirror.”

Wanda glared at her. Her hands were supposed to turn bright red as a means to protect herself, but she simply couldn’t find the power to muster her magic. “What did you do to me?”

“Runes, they- oh fuck this just look at yourself. I have an appointment with this man who turned himself into a big green beast and my job is to turn him back. Now let’s get this over with.”

Agatha guided Wanda to the mirror who was hesitant to move, but still strode forward. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread deep in her chest, confused that it wasn’t towards the mysterious woman but rather an unknown situation. When she ignored her mind and faced the glass, she immediately screamed.

“That’s about the reaction I expected,” Agatha flatly said as she held the screeching princess whose eyes welled up with tears while her face grew hot red. “Listen, you turned yourself into a dragon, no big deal. It was supposed to be a spell for this idiotic wizard who won’t stop harassing me about being better, some strange doctor or something, but thanks to you I’ll have to turn him into a rock instead. I suppose it’s better as I won’t have to hear his stupid voice again.” When she made eye contact with the redhead, she rolled her eyes. “Tough luck, it happens to the best of us. Now I know you’re a magical gal too, so I’d be careful simply existing. I’ll send you to another kingdom so that you don’t accidentally murder anyone and don’t rat me out to your parents.”

“Can’t you fix it?!” Wanda’s breathing was inconsistent as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had small fangs popping from her mouth as tiny horns lay on her head. A tail was wrapped around her leg, scarlet scales glowing underneath the faux light of a nearby candle. And yet nothing compared to the two large wings that fluttered shyly. “Oh my god you have to change me back now.”

“Sorry, buttercup. That’s way beyond my paygrade.”

“Are you deaf? Change me back!” Wanda growled, her eyes turning red with anger.

“Well excuse me if I typically don’t tend to revert the spells I cast. I’m a witch, not a circus magician,” Agatha retaliated. “You were the one that turned yourself into this.”

“And I’m your princess!“

“More like a pain in my ass. And I live beyond your kingdom so you’re not really my princess.” Arguing with the younger woman made Agatha feel as though she was challenging a wall to a duel. She could see the pain that lay beneath her face, Wanda’s shoulder falling as she let her tears run down her face. Regardless of whose fault it was, it was enough to tug at her heartstrings. “But fine, I’ll see what I can do. Just stop crying. I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to make the princess cry.”

Wanda nodded as she let out a strangled sob. She quickly brushed off her tears, her face burning as her wings involuntarily wrapped themselves around her body for support. Rather than think of how her family would react, her thoughts were on you. After having been crushing on her knight in shining armor for years, she had lost her chance all because of her stupidity.

“So, where can I stay? Do you have another room hidden here somewhere?” She asked after sniffling.

“Oh you’re not staying here. You got yourself into this mess, not me. If you weren’t the princess, I would’ve already turned you into a bug before stepping on you for this creative home invasion you just pulled.” Her headache only grew worse by the second – relaxation was not something that came easy to Agatha. “You got balls for breaking into a witch’s home, I tell you that.”

“Ha-ha. Joke’s on you. I don’t have balls.”

“It’s a…figure of…” she sighed. If the king didn’t kill her first, then perhaps the idiocy she was exposed to would do the job. “Never mind. Just go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. You’ll know when I have something ready.”

“But-“

“I wasn’t asking.”

With a flick of her wrist and muttered words beneath her breath, a swirl of purple smoke surrounded Wanda. Next thing she knew, she was stuck back in her room once again.

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A knock on the wooden door of her quarters made the princess jump. She had spent a few hours napping with the hopes of finding it was all a nightmare once she awoke. When that didn’t help, she studied her new body in the mirror. She’d have to get new clothes, she mused while eyeing the tears in her torn garments. When shedding off the rest of the fabric small scales were seen laying faintly along her thighs, back, and the swell of her perky breasts.

“Wanda, are you there?” Your voice boomed through the room.

Poor thing had to stop groping herself imagining they were your hands as she quickly threw herself over the bed. Wanda had no time to find a proper outfit. Instead, she settled for rolling herself above the bed sheets, her body being covered along with part of her head, before walking towards the door.

When opening it, she tried her best to sound relaxed. “Oh hey, Y/N! How are you?”

“Worried. I know I woke up late, but what happened to you? I found Sparky stranded in the woods and waited for hours. You didn’t show up and I…” you stopped as you found yourself unable to finish such thought. “Are you alright?”

“Oh yes I’m okay. I, uh, had some bad bread on the way to the forest and my stomach started hurting a lot when I got there. I portaled myself here to throw up. Guess I forgot Sparky,” she shrugged with the hope it would be enough. “You look good today.”

“Thanks, you…” your words were lost as you took in her appearance, most of her body completely covered in the linen sheets. Squinting, you made out a hint of redness on her head that poked through the fabric. When realizing what it was, you gasped. “You have horns?”

Wanda didn’t say a word as she used her newly found strength to grab you and throw you into her room, luckily fast enough so that the maids walking down the hallway didn’t see anything. She began pacing, breathing becoming difficult again as she attempted to hold onto the bed sheets. To her dismay, the mix of her new powers and old magic during such an overwhelming moment made it so that the covering over her body was burned to ashes.

You were left sitting on the floor with your mouth agape. You knew it was only wrong to keep staring, but you simply were unable to tear your eyes away from the princess. Even in the dimly lit room you could make out her hourglass figure, breast standing proudly, her stomach with adorable rolls, and…wings?

“Wanda you-”

“I know I have horns. I’m horny now!” She cried, far too overwhelmed to understand her own words. “Mama is going to kill me and Pietro won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“No Wanda you-” Once again she interrupted you with her insistent sobs and pacing, but you wouldn’t let it slide. “Wanda you’re naked!”

“Oh,” she looked down at her nude skin. “Oh!”

Her cuteness was something you always appreciated. Sheltered from a young age, Wanda had yet to fully grasp the maturity that was to come with adulthood. Her innocence was something you loved along with her tenderness when it came to other creatures. At times you’d be sitting in the forest casually having your weekly picnic when she slid her hand against your arms, asking you all about the rigorous training that came with being a knight – even teaching her to swordfight led her to merely swing the weapon around and hit any tree in her vicinity.

You waited for Wanda to throw an oversized robe on her body, her wings and tail hiding beneath. She sat by the edge of the bed before patting the empty place by her side. Nodding, you instantly took it.

Silence had befallen over the two of you until she found enough courage to speak. Each little detail of the story was explained. She felt guilty and dumb about having entered the hut, much more for drinking something and reading from a book which appeared to be of the damned. You couldn’t blame her though. Unless Oleg or Iryna gave her permission, she wasn’t allowed to leave the castle, let alone the kingdom citing that she was simply too inexperienced with her magic, scared that she’d hurt others or be hurt for being a witch.

“…and now I’m part dragon I think.” Wanda finished off with a saddened look on her features.

“Now that’s a story,” you chuckled, but stopped as soon as you noticed her face. “Hey, cheer up, princess. You got magic, wings, an awesome tail, and even horns. You’re even more powerful now, right?”

“I guess.” Wanda sighed. Never would you see her the way she wanted you to. “I’m not pretty anymore. Not that I was before, but look at me. I’m a freak, a monster. I look hideous and so gross I…I hate it so much.”

“Honey, you have never stopped looking beautiful. Cursing yourself doesn’t change that,” you began. “I know it’s new and scary, but you said it yourself: the witch will find a cure. We just have to wait and see what happens.”

“We?”

You grabbed her hand and brought it close, keeping yourself from kissing the back of it or her for that matter given your close proximity. “Yes, Wanda. We will get through this together. I’m not leaving your side for a second. It’s you and me against the world, princess. Isn’t that what we used to say as kids?”

Smirking fondly, Wanda quickly remembered why she had fallen so hard for you.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Somehow hiding herself from her family wasn’t the hardest part. Wanda would wear hats and crowns over her head that covered her horns. She’d taught herself how to comfortably wear tight dresses while hiding her wings and tail. You were there to help make the entire process smoother, your hand always clasped with her own as a means of protection.

Being a princess, Wanda had various suitors her parents wished for her to meet. They knew of the way she fancied women, making sure to get in contact with kingdoms who sought off for a princess to be wed off to their own royalty-stricken daughter, one of them being one Kate Bishop.

Kate was nice enough. She reminded you of Wanda a lot, her dashing smile being hard to easily get off anyone’s minds. Iryna wished for the two women to get to know one another better by sending her daughter off to the neighboring kingdom being promised by Eleanor, their queen, that all would go well.

Throughout that week you didn’t hide your disapproval. You were distracted during training, the Romanoff sisters, Natasha answering to the king and Yelena tasked with protecting the prince, had gotten the upper hand during training and you couldn’t care less of it. They stared at one another dumbfoundedly as you finished off by kicking the dirt, the image of Kate and Wanda prancing off in another castle fresh in your mind.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Natasha commented as she followed you, putting her sword away when Yelena joined you two by your other side. “Shouldn’t you be happy you got less work this week, Y/N? No princess to watch, meaning you can go off into town and find yourself a bedmate for once.”

“I don’t know, Nat. I think Y/N might already have someone in mind,” Yelena teased.

“Maybe some princess?” Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“I’m never telling either of you shit again,” you muttered, the women merely laughing as you made a beeline for the barracks. “I just miss her. What do you think she’s doing over there? I don’t know why the queen didn’t just let me accompany Wanda. I’m her knight for fuck’s sake.”

“I heard they got Maria to watch her instead,” Yelena said as she spared her sister a look. “But don’t worry she’s taken already.”

Natasha giggled before playfully hitting the blonde’s arm. “Well, the girl has been acting weird as of late. I think her mom’s just catching on and she wants to see if a change of guard will fix it. Oh maybe you’ll get fired and banished to the Enchanted Forest. Legend says there’s a witch that lives there. Not Wanda, but an even more powerful witch.”

“I know,” you whispered, not allowing the other women to hear. “Thanks for the happy thoughts though. Can’t wait for the royal family to kick me to the streets.”

Sighing, you hoped that Wanda would get back home soon – back to you once and for all.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Upon her arrival Wanda spent her first few hours at the castle with her family. She didn’t reveal much information, well, at least nothing truthful. All her parents had to know was that it went well, but she refused to tell them about the long nights she spent with Kate discussing her growing feelings for a certain knight.

You tried to keep your distance from the princess. With love for her growing, you would rather she was happy than to potentially step in between whatever she had with Kate. No matter what she chose, you’d forever be there to support Wanda – your love, your best friend.

As you lay in your bed flipping through the pages of a book not truly registering the words given how preoccupied your mind was, you heard a knock on the door. At first you ignored it. Pietro was one who, even as an adult, ran through the castle and played pranks on everyone, even certain royal guards who lived on the grounds. When the sound didn’t stop, you huffed, threw your book to the side, and went to the door.

“I know it’s late, but I wanted to see you,” was the first thing Wanda said as she saw you. The previously-grown jealousy in you dissipated as you stared into those striking viridescent eyes. “Hi, Y/N. Would you let me in?”

“Of course, princess.”

You moved away to allow her enough space to enter. Wanda giddily ran to your bed, throwing the hat she wore on the floor and kicking it away. She felt comfortable enough to let her wings be free as well as her tails in your presence, stretching them out after they had hid away from long hours before.

“I missed you so much,” Wanda squealed as you laid back on the bed. She didn’t care to ask as she threw herself on your body, but then again, neither did you. “Tell me everything about your week. I want to know every last detail, please.”

Wanda lay on your chest happily listening to your voice. You could tell she was exhausted from the way she rubbed her eyes and stifled her yawns, but she refused to leave. Instead she pouted when you mentioned how much you missed her, especially your little getaways each Sunday morning – she too longed to have them back.

Something she’d loved since you were children was to have her hair played with. With fingers running through red strands, you explained the boredom you endured without your princess by her side, getting Wanda to nuzzle her face against you as she giggled. Such an enchantingly beautiful sight she was, so perfect and tender to the touch.

You allowed your fingers to ghost over her small horns. Ever since you saw them you were curious about their texture, but never wished to make her uncomfortable by asking. That was until Wanda’s breath hitched as it grew more shallow by the second, your words dying out while exploring the woman.

“Can I touch them?”

Wanda only nodded silently.

When you allowed your fingertips to touch her horns, the poor thing melted. She wasn’t aware of how sensitive her wings, horns, and tails were until she brushed against them in the shower one day. Just like before, a wetness began forming between her legs. There was not much she could do about it, especially not slip a hand between her legs to relieve the stickiness she had previously.

“They’re beautiful, Wanda. So pretty,” you couldn’t help but point out. You always found her magic to be majestic. Ever since you were a kid you were unable to tear your eyes away from what you deemed as her ‘wiggly woos’, the red glow that came out of thin air. “You’re perfect the way you are. I never want you to forget that, alright?”

“Okay,” she smirked, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness underneath the moonlight. Her tail wrapped around one of your forearms, the shining red scales upon it warm with adoration. Such tender moments weren’t alien to either of you. You’d been together since children, sharing everything regardless of differing societal statues. “You’re breathtaking too. Always so irresistible. It’s all the maids talk about, you know? They think I’m not listening but they can’t stop gushing about the princess’s loyal guard. I just…don’t like it?”

“How come?” You frowned with confusion.

Wanda didn’t dare let out those words into the world. In the world only Pietro and Kate knew of her love towards you. No one else had the pleasure of realizing how the princess was enthralled by her friend since childhood. So loyal towards you, always. No matter how much time passed, Wanda would forever wait for you.

She sat up slightly. A shot of surprising confidence she always lacked consumed her body as the redhead was mere centimeters away from your face, her lips ghosting over your own. Your free hand had long stopped petting her horns, and yet the discomfort between her legs didn’t easily go away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t, but after long years of hoping to either ask or hear that question you were ecstatic. “Yes, please.”

Tenderness was present when Wanda first slid her lips against your own. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, at best she’d heard hushed whispers through the castle about it. It was difficult to tell how to act, but as soon as you kissed back, she practically melted and allowed you to dominate her entirely – to set the pace while you danced to the same tempo.

Small mewls left her mouth as the sloppy, wet make out session didn’t easily end. Such tension had erupted through your friendship for over a decade. Your hands clung to her body as Wanda grabbed your face, both moving sensually as you moaned against one another’s lips. With each second that passed, her body grew warmer as did her desperation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you said breathlessly when she pulled back for air. Her pink lips were plump and wet, shining with shared saliva. Red hair was messy atop her head. So imperfect to some and yet a truly magnificent mirage to you. You couldn’t help but touch, brushing a thumb against her cheek with delight. “You mean the world to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you from this,” your eyes flickered towards her tail, “but we’ll get through it together, you know that. Oh Wanda, I’m right here for you.”

Wanda’s hand was planted atop her own as she kissed you once again. So slow, so sweet, so perfect. Her shyness went through her lips, the princess attempting to hide her face afterwards but being stopped as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Forever?” She asked with exhaustion dripping from her tongue – after such a long week all she wanted to do was lay on your chest until the sunrise overcame the world.

Kissing the tip of her nose, you smiled. “Forever, princess. I’m your knight in shining armor.”

That night Wanda remained in your room, changing into your most comfortable clothes after a shower and flopping herself down on top of you. She was warm to the touch. Who needs blankets when there’s a dragon at your disposal? Even her light snores were adorable. From then on, kissing the top of her head, you knew she’d never leave your side.

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Living with your relationship in secrecy wasn’t so different after all. The one thing that changed was the fact you could now kiss one another without batting an eye, that you got to call Wanda your girlfriend and make her beam every single time she heard it. She’d even strategically step under you after hearing it so you could kiss her forehead.

You’d gone weeks having little moments to yourself. Slow and heavy make out sessions occurred in your designated rooms, the gardens at night, the forest you shared, or even the empty halls of the castle. After so long of simply dancing around one another, you had more than enough time to make up for.

Wanda was particularly excited when she received a letter from Agatha with an update on her monstrous situation. She’d grown tired of needing help when bathing as she was unable to reach her back with the wings that stood in the way. You’d grown quite used to her nude body, sometimes simply bathing together, watching as Wanda played around splashing the watery bubbles while you washed her hair. She had to learn new ways to style her hair with horns in the middle for her head, all while also hiding them. All in all, she was ready to go back to being a simple human, let alone her witch status.

Dragging you along with her, Wanda went off on an adventure to the Enchanted Forest as a means to find Agatha again. She asked you if it was normal to send letters via bunny and you frowned, but all she had in mind was the small white creature who had given her the letter, his collar reading “Senor Scratchy – if lost please visit the witch’s hut in the forest and you’ll be rewarded with the ability to curse any one person of your choice.” The thing that made less sense to her was how it all fit in the tag and the legality of Agatha offering to curse random civilians if they found her bunny, but she shrugged it off while wrapping her arms around your body, head resting on your shoulder while you guided the horse into the woods.

“You know, the whole point of telling you to hide yourself was for you to actually do it,” was the first thing Agatha grumbled out as she opened the door after several insistently loud knocks from Wanda’s giddy hand. She eyed you harshly, but as her sight flickered across your face down to your exposed neck, muscular arms and body, she licked her lips. “Not bad. I have a warm bed if you’re looking for some company tonight, dear.”

“I’m spoken for,” you mustered out with wide eyes, your cheeks tinting with pink that wasn’t missed by a huffing Wanda. You grabbed her hand, tilting your head to quietly prove your point. “Sorry?”

“I’m not sure if I should be disgusted or surprised. Good for you, princess. I have to say I am very impressed at least,” Agatha hummed before stepping back. “Come on in.”

During the entire meeting with Agatha all you could do was falter your eyes from her as a means to keep off any possibility of meeting her own. Not once did she look at Wanda for longer than three seconds. The poor princess kept her cool most of the time, let alone for the moments in which she puffed smoke from her nostrils, her eyes turning red along with her fingers as she took in the way the other witch looked at you.

In a matter of days, Wanda would go back to normal. Thanks to the help of a wizard, Agatha had managed to garner a spell to turn the princess back. It would take a few tries before she was able to perfect it. Rather than putting Wanda at risk, she preferred to wait.

“Couldn’t you have just put this on the letter? Did we really need to come?” Wanda suddenly questioned with apparent annoyance. She didn’t not stop holding your hand tightly, her own being scalding hot.

“And, pray tell, what would you have done if someone intercepted the letter? Say it was that brother of yours who is somehow more of an idiot than you?” Agatha said.

“How do you know Pietro?”

“I wish I didn’t, but it’s too long of a story to tell now.” She turned to you, features softening then replaced with lust. “Take care of her, darling. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Wanda didn’t really care to hear more than that as she tugged at your hand and dragged you away. She made a show to flutter her wings fast enough to knock down a few trinkets Agatha had lying around, her tail smashing the door closed as soon as you stepped back out into the forest. As content as she was to have found another witch like her, your partner wasn’t too keen on sharing.

When you mounted the horse together, helping Wanda up by grabbing her waist from behind, she pressed her front against your back. Grinding sensually slow, she let out a rather exaggerated moan. Even in the depths of her innocence, she desperately needed to be claimed.

“Take me home,” Wanda pleaded as you hugged her tight, mind still wrapping itself around such a blissfully delicious moment. “Please, Y/N. I’m ready.”

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Never did you expect yourself to be rushing up the halls of the castle giggling like children as you hid from the others. Wanda raced you at first, but nearly fell on her face with the heeled boots she wore. Her wings allowed her to cheat for a few seconds as she flew past you — the two of you had gone by the riverside to practice her flying; it was fascinating how she could, at the very least, float a couple of feet above the air.

Wanda shyness came back as soon as she stood behind the door of her room, cheeks blushing madly as you pushed her up against the nearest surface. She could barely breathe as the last bit of air she held was stuck beneath her mix of excitement and fear for what would come next.

You held her tight, lips harshly taking her own for a kiss. It was different from the others. No longer did you playfully embrace each other behind the shadows, but instead hid in the home you built for yourselves. Taking the reins, you guided your beloved into the light.

Neither truly knew what to do given your shared inexperience, but you’d heard enough from the other guards to have a general idea. At first you helped Wanda relax by sensually kissing her. Your hands merely hovered over her sides before she nodded at you, giving in silent permission for you to carry on the ministrations. The cloak was pulled off before you shed her dress, being careful enough so that her wings or tail didn’t get in the way.

Surely you’d seen her body naked, but never within the lustful context. While Wanda helped you off your own outfit you stared down in awe. She placed butterfly kisses all over your neck before admiring your nude skin. Fingers found old, healed scars from battles along with bruises received in training. Wanda wanted nothing more than to kiss them all, to protect you from harm, and she did.

You two stumbled over the bed together, Wanda falling first as you caught her from above. Your breasts slid together, nipples accenting the arousal which settled between your legs. Such a perfect fit , you thought as your bodies were molded into one.

“Please I need you inside,” Wanda breathed out. You nuzzled your faces together, sharing a groan when one of your hands squeezed a supple breast gently. “Go slow, baby. We can do it at the same time.”

And that you did. After exploring each other’s bodies for long enough, kissing every bit of skin until you knew it like the back of your hands, you cupped Wanda’s sex. The wetness that met you was delightful. You wondered for a moment how it would taste, how her cunt would react to your tongue flattening against it before taking her clit hostage. You knew from that moment on neither of you would be shy to become adventurous.

“I’ll give you whatever you may want, my princess. I am forever your loyal servant,” you whispered when kissing your way down her face, to her neck, and ended with a craned neck swirling your tongue around a taut nipple. “I’m never leaving your side. I’ll be yours to the end of time. You’re the queen of my heart – it’s always been you.”

“I love you,” was her only response as she mirrored your moves and slid her fingers against the drenched area between your legs. The two of you moved languidly, spreading the other’s folds and tenderly massaging sensitive clits. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too.”

After carefully teasing her for long enough, Wanda doing the same to you, you slipped a single digit inside. She followed along with your guidance, moaning at how awfully tight you were, your velvety walls clamping down around her finger, hugging it tightly as though you never wished to let go. Only had she done it to herself, never truly going past half of her finger given how difficult it was to arouse herself without your presence.

The two of you moved as one. You led the way pumping yourself in and out of your lover, your thumb stimulating her bundle of nerves that practically begged for attention. Small mewls and erotic sounds filled the room. While yours were subdued with the way your mouth teased Wanda’s nipples, hers were loud to cross the whole nation.

Warm wings wrapped themselves around your body to hug you closer as a tail lay snaked on your free hand that held you up. The tips of both her tail and horns glowed a beautiful shade or bright red that accented the flames from the candles she lit with the snap of her fingers.

“You were crafted by the gods themselves. Everything about you, every inch, every imperfection, is something so fucking beautiful,” you breathed out before placing kisses between the valley of her breasts. You grinded against her hand, silently pleading for more while pressing a second finger against her entrance. “I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long, to hold you tight and show you how deep my love is for you. Everything I do, every breath I take, it’s all for you. One day I will get down on one knee for you and nothing will be able to keep us apart.”

You made Wanda scream loud enough that your words were not registered by her. She arched her back, wings fluttering as the grip her tail had on you strengthened. “Y/N!”

That night you didn’t dare stop until you drove Wanda to the brink of pleasure several times. You weren’t sure how to go about it, but she was rather fond of being filled with two fingers that you thrust carefully so as to not hurt her. The princess couldn’t muster the energy to get you through a second orgasm as her finger was nestled knuckle-deep inside you. All you did was kiss her juice-coated hand, suck her finger clean, and that was enough to give her the confidence to stop hiding her blushing face to allow you to kiss her.

After having cleaned up, Wanda watching on as you changed the sheets of her bed, you lay snuggled up in bed together. She refused to leave your side for even a second. Surely the two of you had been physically affectionate during your friendship, but it was nothing compared to the love you felt when she playfully nommed on your bicep, giggling as her fangs barely touched her skin before pulling back.

“Do you promise you’ll stay? I don’t like waking up alone.” Her voice was small, frail even as it boomed through the room previously cowering with silence. Even with the darkness that settled in the atmosphere you could make out her glinting green eyes, pointy horns, and a tail that simply wouldn’t stop ghosting over your feet. “You don’t have to, but I-”

“I’ll stay. It’s okay, I like it anyway,” you shrugged with a flashed smile even if you knew she couldn’t see after having put out the candles.

“Really?”

“Yes, baby. Really.”

You didn’t prepare yourself enough for when a little ball of happiness pounced on top of you. Wanda nuzzled her face against your chest, her horns brushing against your cheek while her wings hugged you lovingly. For a moment you enjoyed the simplicity of it all. No longer was she a cursed princess or you her knight. It was just you and Wanda alone beneath the starry night — stars which resembled her strikingly alluring eyes.

The thought was enough to get you to slowly give into exhaustion.

“Y/N?” By then you had closed your eyes with the hope that if you remained silent for long enough, perhaps you could succumb to your sleep. That didn’t matter to Wanda who was driven to awaken you by shaking you around. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Wanda?”

“Are you awake?” She couldn’t get more adorable than that, you realized.

“Yes, Wanda.” You paused, sighing as your heart filled with love for your future queen. “What’s wrong?“

“I’m scared of the dark.” It was silly, she knew, and yet she was comfortable enough snuggling tight against you under the bed sheets. “And I love you, but I’m mostly scared of the dark.”

You pulled her closer than humanly possible, your chin resting atop her head comfortably. Wanda let out a tiny mewl, laughing as you were warmed up beneath her scalding hot wings. She was the woman you’d marry someday and you didn’t second-guess for a moment.

“It’s okay, princess. I’m right here.” You allowed your lips to linger on her forehead when kissing her. “I love you very much, Wanda – my little witchy. I’m here forever.”

Regardless of whether or not you admitted it, you had her curse to thank for having brought you together. Perhaps you’d send Agatha a bouquet of flowers or pay her a visit. Poor woman didn’t seem to interact with anything other than bumbling idiots or those who she cursed for fun; her words, not yours. Surely it was a horrid mistake that brought Wanda’s stress through the roof, but she was cured in a few weeks once her fellow witch got a hang of the spell.

She was your little dragon for weeks, but Wanda would forever be your princess; too bad she was the same person who accidentally got you cursed into a werewolf days later when practicing spells Agatha taught her.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #marvel smut #wlw #lesbian

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southern-gothic-comic · 2 months ago

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Page 84

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(Author's Notes)

Panel 1: Everything is suffused with the softness of morning light. Imogen wakes up, smiling in contentment at her surroundings. Laudna is still asleep beside her, hair sleep-tangled and falling in her face, eyes and mouth a little open, bedraggled cat doll on the pillow, dead rat tucked under her chin. All of this is precious to her.

Panel 2: Carefully she brushes her hair back from her face, revealing her scarred throat and one maimed ear.

Panel 3: Imogen leans down and kisses her ear tenderly.

Panel 4: Laudna opens her eyes to find Imogen leaning over her. Reaching up, she caresses her cheek with the backs of her fingers and Imogen leans affectionately into her touch like a cat.

Laudna: Everything all right, love?

Imogen: Mmm-hm.

Laudna: No bad dreams?

Imogen: None at all. I haven't had a nightmare in weeks, come to think of it.

Laudna: Maybe they're gone for good!

Panel 5: Laudna starts preparing breakfast while Imogen pours water for tea.

Imogen: Wouldn't that be somethin'? I feel like gettin' out of Gelvaan's done me a world of good.

Laudna: You look happy.

Imogen: I am! I feel better out here than I have in years. Makin' our own way, and no one's mind pressin' up against mine except for yours.

Panel 6: They sit on the stoop with their tea. Imogen leans her head against Laudna's shoulder.

Imogen: Are you?

Laudna: Oh, yes. I'd be happy anywhere with you. I'm afraid it's quite a bit more humble than your old home, though.

Imogen: Darlin', I'm happier in this li'l hut with you than any other house I've lived in. You're here. That's what makes it home.

Panel 7: Wider view of the surrounding woods. The trees are more autumn-colored than they were last time we saw them.

Laudna: It doesn't have to be for always. If we don't find the answers you're looking for here, we can always keep going on to that fancy academy in Jrusar.

Imogen: I don't mind stoppin' here until spring, at least. Glad we found a snug place to stay before the snow comes. To get to Jrusar we'll have to go through the Kaal Mountains, and that'd be hard goin' once winter sets in. Then it's north for a long stretch through the Hellcatch Valley on the other side and into the Oderan Wilds. {sigh} Long ways off, still.

Laudna: We'll get there. One step at a time. I'll follow wherever you lead.

#critical role #critical role fanart #critical role comic #laudna #imogen temult #imodna #southerngothic #comics #webcomics on tumblr #a long road home #mintywolf

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 3/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Word count: 9.4 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: König takes liberties with his mouth. Dubcon is at its most dubcon in this chapter so please tread carefully <3 The actual smut happens in the next (and last) part. Long chapter because these two just can't behave!!

The days are getting warmer now.

The sun warms the tent during the day, and the sound of birds searching for a mate threatens to drive you to madness. They sing during nighttime, too, and you miss the sturdy clay walls of your hut that blocked at least some of the sounds from outside. Now you are barely sheltered from wind and rain that beat the tent every now and then and can escape the swelling song of spring and lovesick birds to nowhere. König only snores with steady content as you mull over your strange fate there in his cozy bed, wondering how crazy it is that he never lets you go when he sleeps.

If König has an early council, you spend the morning eating breakfast in bed while studying odd parchments the translator gave you. The old man was quite insulted, not because you asked, but because you showed interest in the documents that, apparently, were of least importance to him.

You don’t care that they’re “only” travel guides because they’re filled with Roman letters and numbers and usually illustrated with pictures of columns. You don’t understand a word they say and how those strange papers could ever be a travel guide to anyone, but you like to trace the letters and pictures with your finger. König clearly understood your fascination with them: he left you this morning with another smile, which told you he only thought you were simply adorable this way. He tried to tell you that the letters represent towns and the numbers tell the distances between those towns, but they still remain bizarre pieces of paper to you.

Men pass by occasionally; you can hear it from how their gears clonk and clatter and swish. You can hear the soft thump of sandals on the dirt, but you pay it no attention because you’ve always trusted that you are safe here. As long as you stay inside the tent, no one will touch you, even if they can currently see you because the flap is left open a wink.

The only times his men witness you are when König takes you out for a walk in the woods so that you can take care of your bodily needs. Everyone can see that your hands are never tied, your face is never bruised, and your posture is still that of a proud, unbroken woman. And everyone looks at you with both hunger and wonder. Apparently, you are an even tempting spoil because you are not yet spoiled.

The special treatment was rubbed in your face one time when you passed by a Roman soldier disciplining his slave, a woman who had shared your fate and clearly was having the worst of it. The other half of her face was unrecognizable, but the man kept beating her, and you stared in horror as whatever deed she had done to anger the man was now being punished far too cruelly.

“Romans very dumb,” König said from next to you without even shedding a glance at the morbid scene. No one seemed to give a shit about what was happening to that poor woman, but you would never have expected such a comment to come from König’s mouth. When you asked him what he meant by that, he only shrugged and said: “That man piss on his luck.”

You wonder if the only reason why you haven’t been raped yet is because you are some sort of a lucky charm to him. The mere thought has the effect of making your blood boil, but some distant, tender voice inside you reminds you that König is not Roman. He does not share Roman customs, even if he fights with and for them. Perhaps slaves are treated differently in his land. Perhaps in there, it is considered an outrage and an insult to the gods to beat a woman, free or not.

Whatever his reasons are for not beating and raping you to death, it was a tremendous stroke of luck that König found you first. You dropped right there on his feet when he was victorious, so of course his men allowed him to take you as his: you were clearly a gift from the gods. But now that time has passed, you understand you are by no means safe if you wander outside this tent. König can protect you only when he is present or when you are safely tucked away in his own personal space.

It’s a false feeling of safety, however, because you soon learn that out of sight is out of mind for these soldiers. Now that you are on display, sweetly and neatly on the bed, a tiny little wrinkle forming between your brows from studying the peculiar parchment, you are like fresh livestock on the marketplace, even inside the tent. You notice that someone else is in here with you only when you hear the sound of munching and turn.

A relatively big soldier is standing in the doorway, eating an apple, watching you like he would rather have a bite out of you.

And you thank all the gods and stars above you, all the spirits and the Mother below you, that he doesn’t even get to take a step before a sword impales his chest.

König kills his own man so casually that all the thoughts of him falling to the gentle side of giants disappear instantly. He even twists the sword inside the broad man from daring to cast eyes on you. And you probably should feel bad for him… But you don’t. Not at all. The apple falls into the dirt and rolls away, but the man slumps into the threshold of the outside world and the safe womb of the tent, like an offering to guardian spirits - or to you.

You look up at König, eyes wide only because you are yet again speechless, but this time because of odd, bashful gratitude.

“No touching,” he says without even blinking – it sounds like a stern explanation.

“No touching,” you agree with a whisper. König only nods, wipes his gladius clean on the dead soldier’s cloak, and carries the body into the woods.

…

You don’t know if he has lost some of the favour he enjoys among the Romans after killing one of their soldiers. You suspect he has not. Actually, you are sure his reputation only soared for it. He just showed everyone that his prize is not to be touched: you are not to be even looked upon. Romans probably respect such a thing.

A few wagons arrive one morning, carrying various supplies for the soldiers. There are many other items too, completely unrelated to warfare but all to do with pleasure and gambling and trade. You assume König gets to pick his favourites among the first soldiers, if not the first soldier, from the abundant cargo that arrived, because he brings his spoils to you with boyish excitement. There is close to nothing there for himself: only a thick, heavy cloak, made of dark wool with lush fur on the shoulders. It looks like something a northern king would wear, and you find yourself quite happy for him, but the other items he’s carrying are clearly all hand-picked just for you.

There is a dress, a pair of sandals, a bone comb, some fruit and a large, round copper dish. It serves as a mirror as you change into the dress – a Roman one, dyed ocean blue – just to appease König and get him off your back. It hurts your heart to see how happy it makes him to see you accept his gifts. He holds the dim, uneven mirror in front of you when you get the dress on, and you’re feeling strangely meek: you’re not even sure if you have put it on properly. The bone comb is milk white and has two horses carved on it – it reminds you of the offering that was never made to appease the Great Mother because it couldn’t have prevented the Titan from coming to your lands. It’s another odd omen: black horses now turned to white, but an omen for what, you can’t say.

And then… he kneels.

König falls at your feet and starts putting the Roman sandals on, tying the strings around your calves so gently that it makes you feel like you’re made of clay. The sandals are not the kind he wears: they’re made for women, apparently, because they’re so skimpy and delicate. The strings reach the upper part of your calf, and when he’s done with you, happy to have now clothed you in Roman garb, he caresses your thigh and presses a kiss above your knee.

And he looks up at you like you’re everything but his captive. He looks at you like you’re a queen. He stares at you like he’s the slave here.

“You like?”

The soft rumble catches you off guard, as does the fond caress he gives your leg. He doesn’t even try to move his hand upwards and under the dress; he just admires you from the ground, looking a bit foolish while crouched there at your feet. You swallow arduously and nod. What else are you supposed to do?

He smiles with his eyes and gives you another kiss. He presses it on the sensitive part where your calf meets the inside of your knee. He even raises his hood to do it, and you finally feel his breath as his lips meet your skin, hot but tender. You fight the urge to shrink from him, and despite it only being a soft peck, a lover’s touch, the kiss leaves a burning sensation on your skin.

Then he tucks your dress down, like a slave who simply stole a little kiss from his mistress. You’re rendered weak and silent before such reverence, but then the playfulness returns as he raises one finger, as if telling you not to say a word because he just had an idea. You look at him with odd curiosity as he crawls on all fours and reaches for something underneath the bed. You panic a little, fearing he might notice that you’ve been there, too: rummaging through his things and throwing the pieces of jewellery back there without caring to ensure that they are placed back in the same position you found them in. But he doesn’t seem to care or notice.

He tries to offer you the golden pendant first, the one that has three discs on it. It’s a little too much, and you shake your head, fearing you will upset him by declining his gift. He tries to offer you a more delicate necklace next: full of cute, filigreed beads, but you shake your head again. He wishes to give you a trinket so badly that you finally raise your hand and graze your fingertips over a leather string holding a few chunks of amber. It also bears the claws of some animal: fox, perhaps. He looks very pleased with your choice and puts your new possession around your neck. You reach for the copper plate yourself this time and hold it up to see how you look in your odd Roman dress and your humble but powerful new necklace.

“Sehr schön,” König says behind you as you take in the wobbly image. He is so, so happy - you have never seen him quite so happy. It looks like he thought this to be the prettiest, most compelling piece of jewellery too; as if the gold and beads were simply currency for him, too. As if it was obvious that you would be interested in bones and sea gold instead of the gold of men. Then he pulls out something from under his tunic: another leather string that has a large hunk of bone hanging from it. He’s presenting it to you like he wants to show how you two are now very much alike.

“What is it…?” You ask, trying to determine whether the bone came from an elk or a deer.

“Bear cock,” he says proudly while dangling it in front of you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for a man to carry the penis bone of a bear around his neck. “Makes man strong in battle and bed.”

“I don’t think you need that,” you whisper while looking up at him. It’s your first joke to him, and he laughs. Heartily.

“Kleine Fee. You have only seen me fight.”

He puts it back under his tunic as if it’s his secret amulet now. You really don’t think he needs any more luck in war, or in any other… field. He seems like the kind of man who can pleasure women all day. It’s a bitter thought, somehow, and makes your heart feel heavy. You wonder how many women he has had already when you have refused to open your legs for him.

“We can try how good it works in bed,” he offers, as cheerfully as ever.

Oh.

Oh…

“I’m—I’m hungry. I think I need to eat something,” you summon an excuse out of thin air while raising your hands against his chest to keep him away. As if you could get your breakfast down after him saying things like that…

“Hungrig? I can feed you,” he suggests, still in the happiest of moods. Then he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the table. He’s ever generous today: you get to sit on his lap as he starts to feed you grapes.

And you didn’t think he’d actually, veritably feed you. But that’s exactly what he does. You get an entire meal: ripe fruits, a thick handful of bread, a fine slice of fat, delicious cheese. Wine to wash it down, and then some more grapes. He holds them gently on your lips until you open your mouth a little so that he can push them onto your tongue. He watches with utter content how you eat everything he offers you. He even gives you a few bounces with his knee, and every now and then, he gropes your tits: just squeezes them and plays around with them while you eat.

It is quite evident that this man really, really likes your boobs. Perhaps that is why he carries the statue of Great Mother around… To your horror, you realize the piece of carved wood is not an idol of worship for this man, just a lewd image he probably digs up and looks at when he wants to stroke his cock.

Gods... This man is even worse than you thought.

You begin to pout again, and he draws you flush against him, seeing that he somehow managed to make you displeased. Unaware as to what could have caused this, he gives you another bounce and tries to find the reason for your sudden change of mood.

“Are you fed now?”

“Yes,” you mope even more as you realize you would very much like him to continue feeding you even if you’re full. To just… do that thing with the grapes again. Just a few more.

“Gut. We have to leave soon.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “To fight.”

The camp is packed up in such haste that you find yourself under the sun in practically no time. You stay as close to König as possible without being glued to him, seeing that the new dress and hairstyle you made with the comb is high currency among the war-torn, lust-filled soldiers. Someone gives you a long whistle, which is followed by a few harsh comments you luckily don’t understand, but all the stares are cut off when König stops preparing his horse, rises to his full height, and wraps his fingers around the handle of his gladius.

You don’t get a single look after that, not even a sideways glance. Everyone acts like you don’t even exist.

The army moves at a slow pace at first, leaving a heavy dust cloud behind. It’s a fine day for travelling because there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. Everyone seems to be having a good time except for the slaves, and König is the only one who is vigilant, watching his surroundings at all times, head turning from side to side, hand never leaving his sword.

You get a horse – his horse – and a lot of hateful stares from the other women, none of whom you have ever seen before. Captive girls from other villages, you presume, and they all hate you now because you get to ride a strong black stallion while they have to march in a dust cloud with their hands bound and their feet full of blisters. Their captors don’t give much thought to feeding or giving water to these poor women, mainly because they’re too busy laughing with each other and having hearty gulps from their wine sacks. You wonder if these men have ever fed these women a single grape during their campaign.

König, on the other hand, marches next to you like he’s your servant. He offers you his waterskin, his wineskin, too, and as the march goes on, an awkward knot starts to form inside your belly.

He’s behaving so oddly. You can’t find any other reason for his behaviour than that he simply has no full understanding of Roman customs because he comes from somewhere else. (Mountains, he said, when you asked him.)

You only now notice that he has servants but only uses them to pack or set up the tent. Other high-ranking officers and commanders have their servants with them at all times, tending to their every need. König is the only one who behaves like a foot soldier: he pours his own wine, gets his rations and supplies himself, lights his oil lamps without help and never lets anyone else touch his armour or swords.

The servant he uses the most is the translator, a slave who’s clearly responsible for teaching König more and more of your words. He also serves as a mediator when König gets ready for another battle. You have naively wanted to forget the reason why these men are here in the first place, and as you see König putting on his full armour the next day, tying the swords on his waist and leaving to search for his shield, you feel like bursting into tears or a scream. You look away as he gets dressed, and refuse to give him a single kind look that morning. You stand with your hands crossed over your chest as he’s finally ready and fetches the old man to the tent again.

The Roman soon stands next to him as König takes a step and falls on one knee before you.

“He asks you to bless him,” the old translator says – weary and bored.

You stop breathing for a second and look at König, there at your feet again, head bowed, leaning on one elbow placed on a strong knee.

Bless him… For going to slaughter another clan? Give your blessing to him leaving people fatherless, childless and homeless?

Is this some sort of a joke?

“Are my words… correct? Master asks that you give him your blessing for the upcoming battle.”

You bite your lip in frustration. You want to put your hand over this proud warrior’s head and send him away with words of might and fortune, but even the thought of wanting to do that is about to make you sick.

“I will do no such thing,” you say coldly and earn a sad, confused stare from König, who raises his head to look at you with a horrifying, pleading gaze. This man doesn’t beg for anything from anyone, and yet here he is, in his full armour, armed to the teeth and looking like the God of War again, asking for a kind word or two. You turn away, not because you deny him, but because you can’t stand to be under that defenceless gaze. The Roman sighs behind you, and from the clatter of König’s gear, you can hear that he has gotten up and is about to leave.

You turn again, only to face his withdrawing back. Tense, and already beaten.

He grabs the satchel, the one that holds his Mother, but stops to look at it like it’s simply an ordinary object instead of a powerful entity. Then he places it back down on the table with a sigh. You look with horror as he leaves for war without taking his amulet, idol, fate, source of luck and joy – whatever the statue represents to this man – with him.

It doesn’t take long before you regret you didn’t give him your “blessing”.

It somehow feels wrong that he left without it. You’re his captive, but he has fed you, clothed you, kept you warm. He has practically done no harm to you except hold you through the night and have a few gropes at your tits, which you haven’t found harmful at all… The least you could do to thank him is to lay a hand upon his head or sword before he left. Just a simple little gesture, not even a true blessing… Just a little something would have sufficed, to help him go into battle with a slightly lighter heart.

Because as much as you loathe this man, you don’t actually want him dead. You don’t want him to march into battle and think you wish him ill. You don’t want König to get careless just for the sake of feeling miserable about the thought that his little slave girl despises him.

Because you don’t despise him.

You just don’t… like him.

And he’s your captor still. Why should he deserve your blessing?

But the image of him cutting through his enemies with sorrow and bleakness in his stare, walking into a spear just because he’s had enough of life and more than enough of difficult, uncaring, ungrateful women, makes your heart bleed. He could’ve taken Mother with him since he didn’t get a good luck’s wish from you, but he chose to leave even Her behind. As if his faith had failed him, as if the few things and people he has ever placed his trust in have now abandoned him.

The night rolls in, and the moon crosses the sky slowly, so slowly, as you wait for his return. The old Roman looks at you sideways every time you peek outside the flap and sigh. Your guard is a weak, old man, but you reckon that if you were to escape, the tired slave would simply follow you out of the camp and tell König which direction you have gone so that he can hunt you down when he returns. The few Romans left to guard the portable garrison would probably seize you and take you as their plaything before you managed to set a foot outside the vallus, and even if König came back to claim you, you could be a bloody heap by the time he returned.

And it’s not even caution keeping you inside the tent. You don’t actually think about fleeing at all.

In the dead of night, you go to his satchel and pull out the statue of the Great Mother.

“Dear Mother... Great Mother. Please let him have his victory. Please let him come home unhurt. Even if he fails, please let there not be a scratch on him as he falls. Please, please, please…”

You improvise your prayer as you go, thinking about something to offer Her while being captive and not having access to most of the resources you would normally go to.

“I’ll give you my next moonblood. I will give you amber and fox claws…”

Your heart hurts, knowing you just promised the necklace König gave you as your sacrifice. But it’s a small gift for his safe return, and you renew your prayer, over and over again, while squeezing the Mother between your hands and pressing Her against your forehead.

You’re not sure if She can even hear you, because haven’t you wished this man dead not too long ago? You return the Mother to her satchel and pace around the tent, about to go mad. When the first horses arrive, you almost run outside to see if you can see or hear him coming. Soldiers march into the camp: there is so much din and racket outside that you know this is the least opportune moment to go outside and show yourself to the survivors who clearly have their morale and cocks up high from the recent battle. You wait and wait and wait, thinking about whether your god is among the wounded, being carried to some other tent where they treat injuries. You go and sit on the bed; you rise up and sit on the table. Then you go and press your ear to the fabric of the tent and try to listen like a fox.

The flap is, blessedly, finally drawn aside, and you hurry to meet whoever has arrived. It’s König – of course – breathing heavy, looking slightly high-strung but primarily unscathed, and you forget yourself completely when running to him.

“Are you hurt!?”

He takes off his helmet and takes in a good breath of air, eyes melting into pure love when he sees you.

“Nein. Not a scratch.”

You swallow your relief – of course no one can get to this man. Your fears have been stupid and ridiculous. But in the deepest chasm of your heart, you thank the Mother three times. You promise to deliver her your sacrifice as soon as possible.

“You fear for me?” He asks, so excited again that you have to dig your nails into your palm so that you won’t go and clutch him and cry from joy. You don’t nod or shake your head; you only stare at him with what must look like a frightened deer stare.

Your giant comes to hug you so tight you can’t even breathe. Then he lifts you into the air, and there is nothing you can do - there is nothing you even want to do but to be there in his stout embrace. You’re so relieved that he is alive and unhurt that there are tears in your eyes, and he sees them, and smiles.

“Don’t worry, little Fee. Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen.” His voice is throaty and parched; apparently, he has shouted his throat raw on the field.

You almost say you’re sorry that you didn’t give him your blessing, but seeing how pleased, triumphant, and gleeful he is causes you to shut your mouth and shut it tight. It’s enough that you have babbled prayers for him all night, praying your knees and tongue sore.

König returns you to the ground and leaves, only to return with ample loot. Two slaves carry in a small but heavy jute sack of coin, a tiny chest filled with honey, two bottles of scented oils, three gorgeous jugs of milk, a beautiful bronze sword, all laid there at your feet.

“Für dich,” he says, throwing a wide arc with his hand to gesture that all this is now yours. You watch all the stunning, lavish, extraordinary gifts, again picked with care just for you. You remember how there was not a single coin in this tent before you were dragged in, no bronze, no gold, no milk nor honey. No fine dresses, no stolen, scented oils. How many families did he have to kill to bring all these fine goods for you?

“I don’t want your loot,” you whisper on the brink of tears.

“What…do you want?” The smile in his eyes fades, and it stabs your heart full of pain. “More sea honey?”

“No, I–”

“Slaves?”

“No,” you step forward. If only you two could have met some other time, in some other place… “I just…I want my freedom.”

“What will you do with freedom…?”

You finally get to see what König is like when he argues. He cannot understand your logic; he can’t understand what more he must do to satisfy you and make you happy.

“Your chief is dead,” he says bluntly, causing your head to feel two times too small for your anger and pain.

“You don’t have to remind me,” you blurt, equally bluntly. Because whose fault is that? This man is a thick-skulled, thick-cocked idiot.

“You have no husband. No village.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Why angry?”

“Because you are infuriating,” you almost shriek.

He looks at you, lost and confused, not knowing how to calm you down or make you pleased again. And it must be confusing: some gifts work, some don’t. Other times, you look at him lovely and sweet; other times you sulk and pout. You have luckily stopped your crying, but now you have suddenly decided to yell at him?

He approaches you after seemingly coming to the conclusion that you must want him to either pet or fuck you. He tries to raise his hands to touch you, but you push him away.

“Don’t you fucking dare grope me again!”

He withdraws quickly, now utterly nonplussed. If you don’t even want to be held, then what is he to do? This goes against all the laws of this world: he has arrived, triumphant and joyous from the battle, clearly favoured by all the gods, above and below, and favoured in full. The only one who doesn’t grant him a boon is you. His head tips to the side - it always does that when he’s curious or thinking hard. Then his eyes light up with understanding, and you know you’re about to hear more nonsense coming out of that oafish mouth.

“You don’t want me to fight?”

“I don’t…care what you do,” you scoff.

“Ah. You hate Romans?”

“Yes, I hate Romans. I wish they would all die. I hate their stupid battles and their stupid campaigns. And I hate you too,” your spirit rises with your words, your voice gaining volume and strength as you hurl all your frustration at him.

And he’s shocked. Not at your first declaration, nor the second, not even the third. It’s the last sentence that clearly drives a dagger straight into his heart.

He steps back, nearly toppling a milk jug as he pulls away from you. Then he mumbles something under his breath, something in his own crude language. The words are muffled by the mask as he scratches the back of his neck and leaves the tent without even taking his blood-stained armour off.

His name, the name that sounds so foreign to you, never leaves your mouth. But the following words do.

“Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

Not all of it.

He’s out of the tent by then, and you’re left with your beautiful gifts, your bitter sorrow and regret. You sigh and look up, hoping you could see the sky and whisper your inquiry into the night air.

Why on earth did you two have to meet like this? Why does he have to be so thick-skulled and so… So him?

You calm your racing heart and start to organize the loot he brought you. You have never liked messy places and have done your best to keep this tent from getting cluttered. You taste some of the milk he brought you and inhale the sweet scent of those oils; you dip your little finger inside the honey jar and have a taste. The golden liquid tastes like the food of the gods when paired with milk. You put the blade on the table where König usually keeps his swords and settle to wait for him.

And you have to wait for a long time, so long that you eventually withdraw to the bed, alone and with a heavy heart. When König finally returns, you can hear he has had a drink. More than one, too: he has probably drunk an entire jug of wine alone. He doffs his armour with curses and sighs, and lets it drop on the ground with a sloppy clang that makes you jolt under the furs. He eats something very noisily while throwing his helmet somewhere to the ground too, burps loudly, and sighs again: so deeply that it makes your heart burn. After getting rid of the tunic and his sandals – an operation that takes him more than a while – he crawls on the bed with a heavy breath. Your heart is at your throat as the stench of wine hits you, and his hands are clumsy and stern when he comes under the same fur and reaches for you.

“König—”

Your whisper ends abruptly as you are pulled against a familiar, broad chest. He growls at you for being awake – or at himself for waking you up with a drunken racket.

“I don’t… I didn’t…” you start weakly and have to clear your throat as he huffs against your neck, listening to what you are trying to say.

“I don’t hate you,” you finally whisper.

He grumbles against your back and buries his masked face in your neck. The arm around your middle tightens and tightens, and you hurry to praise his gifts.

“The honey is delicious. And the oils are–”

"Fee… Du machst mich verrückt."

He speaks through gritted teeth while panting laboriously in your hair. You're relieved to hear sorrow instead of anger in his voice, but it’s his body that makes you arch your back and guide your bottom to meet his crotch.

The biggest mistake you’ve ever done, surely, because the whole body behind you grows taut. He gives you a tight roll of his hips, pushing his cock against you with immediate fervour. His balls meet your bottom, tight and heavy: you have gone to bed in your ridiculous Roman dress because you were feeling cold, but you can still feel them. You can feel all of him.

“König… We–We need to sleep…”

You sound like a bitch in heat, not at all like a woman who wants to stop wherever this heated cuddle is spiralling into. König is letting out noises you didn’t even know a man could make, and it makes your cunt wetter than ever before: tight and throbbing and embarrassingly needy. You try to remind yourself that this is not the proper time or way, that you don’t want it to happen like this: with the smell of wine and blood and dirt and sweat surrounding you, with him soon thrusting that cock between your thighs and shooting his seed on the bed before he can even get it in. You don’t want him when he’s drunk, and you don’t want him when he’s clearly a bit angry with you still. You place a weak hand over his, the one currently wrapped around your middle like a bond.

“Please, I mean it…”

“Not the time for sleep, little one,” he rasps on your shoulder, mask dragged aside and mouth breathing hot against your skin. His voice is gentle but his body is not: it turns out he has only been waiting for the slightest little cue to have the permission to take you. Unfortunately for you, moaning and grinding your hips against him is more than just a cue.

“Göttin der Erde... Gib dich mir.”

He grunts odd, boorish words on your shoulder, leaving you breathless with another tight roll of his hips. It feels like a spell or a chant, the way he speaks. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him, and fear that whatever tie has been knotted between you two, whatever shackle has bound your souls together, has also granted him the ability to hear your thoughts. He must’ve heard them, or then he must smell the change in the air, because he rolls you on your back and pushes a knee between your legs.

“Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen,” he mutters more incantations in your neck, broad thigh forcing your legs further apart. He doesn’t even need strength to coax them open: they drag up and aside by themselves.

“Ah–Why can’t you talk like normal people…”

You sigh your silly thoughts out into the night air, and your fierce giant turns his head a little, now right there next to your cheek.

"Normal? Was ist das…?"

Your lips draw into a quivering little smile – you just can’t help it. Him lying half on top of you, asking what the word ‘normal’ means while smelling like an entire wine house just burned down makes your lips and heart flutter. Your soft laugh makes him raise his head a little, drunken, half-lidded eyes now fixed on you.

“The opposite of you?” You offer innocently and try not to laugh, but it’s no use. You start to snicker, then giggle, and the way he growls only makes things worse.

“You little–I will go crazy because of you,” he whispers, drunk as a heartbroken man can be. Your own heart seems to open with a flood.

“Then go crazy,” you whisper back.

And gods… He takes your sigh as a permit to go absolutely berserk. He crawls on top of you and rips your dress apart from the middle with both hands, exposing your breasts to him and the cold night air. There's a weight in his gaze that turns your nipples hard; a gaze of promise, just before he descends.

He attacks you like a starving man, devours and licks and sucks your breasts until you shake and moan on the bed, until your hands come to cradle his head with greed.

“I will make you scream tonight,” he pants roughly on your tits – you can feel the words on your skin. You’re veritably afraid that this man will swallow you before he even gets to the main event, which is no doubt to satiate the need to fill you with potent seed. He doesn’t exactly caress you, no: he gobbles you like your body is an entire feast, the generous kisses almost turning into bites when he reaches your hips.

“No–no teeth, König,” you try to whimper, somewhere on the borderline of tension and lust.

"Fee... I promise I'll fuck you like king. I'll fuck you until you cry.”

Your head goes blank from his words; from terror and love and lust. There's no time to decipher whether you should be afraid, because he scoops up your thighs, grabs you like a wrestling partner, and draws you against his face.

“Wait—What are you–”

Your words are cut off as he drives his nose up your cunt and breathes in your musk like it's divine incense. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered by the skimpy dress he just ripped to shreds: the fabric is so thin that he could be virtually sniffing you through sheer gossamer.

There’s no escape now; he can feel how wet you are. He can practically taste it.

“König—”

You can't understand why he would want to push his face there, so you mewl and try to push him away – very weakly – but he’s immovable, glued to your scent down there, panting into your warm, wet cunt with harsh breaths and starved groans. You're lying there at his mercy, dress torn to pieces and breasts heaving, thighs spread as far as they can go.

It's futile to even try reason with a starved giant between your legs, a cunt-deprived warrior about to finally take what's his. You should've known better than to joke around and play with a man who could snap you in half – either with his hands or with his cock – and Mother was wrong: you're not smart at all, teasing a beast like this. A beast whose teeth are currently bared over your most vulnerable place protected only by a thin veil soaked with your wet.

König lashes his tongue out and presses it flat against your dress, on your throbbing womanhood, and your words turn into an ample, lewd moan.

“A–ah…”

You fall weakly back on the bed, head spinning although you haven’t drunk a drop of wine. The broad body almost trembles there between your legs.

“Ah… You want cock, ja? I can taste it,” he grunts, blunt as ever. The thought of that thing being bullied into you inch by thick inch makes your cunt clench tight. Gods, you want it, but it will never fit, never…

Unless he… Unless that's why he's down there, panting hot inside you, trying to coax you open with his mouth. Perhaps he's not that dumb after all...

“Please,” you beg for him to love you, taste you, take you, your pride melting into copper and gold, pooling somewhere down, down, down…

“Don't worry,” he speaks straight to your cunt like a man intoxicated with something far better than wine. “I will give you cock. All night.”

He lifts the dress with his nose like a dog, nuzzles under your ruined attire like it's his shelter for the night, headed back towards his plump prize. There will soon be nothing between his mouth and your poor, throbbing cunt, aching to be licked and loved by a cruel giant. A giant who brings you milk and honey and grapes and gold in all its forms…

But just when you have finally forgotten that beasts possess teeth, he sinks them into you. He sinks them into your inner thigh, waking you up from the dream with sharp, harrowing pain.

The fucking idiot actually bites you, hard.

“You fucking—Go to hell!”

You push him away in earnest now, using his shoulders to propel yourself away from him. His teeth threaten to pierce and tear skin because he's so reluctant to let go, and the horrors of the battlefield seep into your skin; the safe warmth of the womb turns into a suffocating darkness.

Your kicks have enough power to make him rise from between your legs, and the clear-cut pain in his eyes makes you want to both hug and hit him. You do the latter and hurl your fists at him, not bothering to even try to hit a target or cause pain; you just want him to stop making you afraid.

Of course, he takes your breathless state and lust-filled rage as a cue to leave – and he does precisely that, but not before he has struggled away from you and your fists in an overly dramatic manner. It would look funny in another situation, especially when he's as hard as ever, cock jutting high towards the sky just from having a little taste of your love. Drunken and slightly wobbly, he almost falls when he grabs the tunic from the earthen floor as if his tent is a site of execution where he will soon be stoned.

At the mouth of the tent, he stops, throws his head back, and roars. The guttural, booming rage echoes towards the gods like a furious curse, and you’re quite sure that the entire camp is awake by now. Every soldier nearby must be dying of a scared heart, thinking that there are either bears or Gauls upon them.

You hold your arms against your chest and safeguard your soft belly as you take in all his fury and frustration, then watch him stagger into the night, head hanging heavy between slumped shoulders. You’re left breathing, afraid and alone in the darkness, thinking about what the hell just happened… And spend the next moments in shock. Soon enough, the cold and terror fades, melting into something more palatable. You're shivering and wet, but intact, at least on the outside.

And the oddest thing is that you find yourself missing him. You miss his presence, his body, you miss his dumbness and his jokes. You fucking miss him.

The man who almost raped you.

With his… mouth.

You curl inside the furs and try to get some sleep with a hammering heart, ending up thinking about him all night. You thought he was going to pound you with that ridiculously long cock all night – and wasn't that his threat, too? – but what you didn't expect was that the giant barbarian who rips people's throats open with his teeth would want to lick and lap you into submission. You never would have thought that König wanted to bury his face between your legs, and eagerly at that.

Perhaps you understood his silly words wrong in your half aroused, half scared state. What if he meant to make you scream and cry from pleasure, not pain?

The burning bruise on your thigh reminds you that you are probably wrong, but you still wake every now and then from a thin sleep, glancing around you in despair, only to see that he’s not there. You feel so hollow that you think for a moment whether König has left the camp entirely, whether he is wandering away, towards some other adventure, exhausted with you and the war and the Romans.

The most unbearable thought in your head is not that he has left you for his dogs, however. It’s the thought that has abandoned you. That he has finally had enough. Because you realize… König hasn’t gone anywhere. He simply left to have his fun with some other woman. Perhaps he’ll be back in the morning, but his patience is gone; it has finally ended, your silly little game. A difficult slave girl who won’t even let him lick her cunt is simply no amusement to him anymore.

Just before dawn, your will breaks; it splits in half. You can almost hear it. The sound of cries is muffled in the bed that nowadays has both his scent and yours: both of your scents combined, mixing together into a wonderful haze of love and despair.

…

König comes back when the dawn is already turning into a full day.

He strolls into the tent the same way he left: with a hunched posture and unsteady feet, but the fervent vigour from last night is gone. Actually, you have never seen him so weak. The dramatic sighs, the groping and the bullying have turned into a piercing silence. His muscles have lost their strength, his head is hanging heavy between those once proud shoulders, and his eyes are cast down as if he’s hoping there wouldn’t be such a bright orb in the sky. He drags his feet as he enters the tent; he doesn’t even look your way when he goes and slumps in his chair.

You are so glad to see him that you nearly jump from the bed and fall right there at his feet. You want to kiss his thighs and grab his hands and look up at him, doting and adoring like a good little slave. You want to whimper and beg that he can give you love bites everywhere he wants.

Instead, you snap at him, voice filled with poison.

“Did you have fun raping women last night?”

There are leaves on his mask and dirt on his shins and knees. Even his hands are a little grungy, and the proud red Roman tunic could also use a wash. He sheds you a tired side stare, then sighs.

“Was?”

“Were you with women,” you spell out every word slowly like you’re talking to a child. The venom on your tongue threatens to spill out as froth. And you almost say, 'other women'. Almost.

König raises his head and looks at you with a slight tilt in his head. He’s curious again, so, so very curious. He has clearly fleed the sun into his tent rather than seek your gracious presence, which shouldn’t make you this glum... But what you just said has managed to brighten up his entire day.

“Meine Fee… She’s jealous,” he points out in a far more jovial tone.

“No. Not at all,” you hurry to say, chin drawing back from his stupid accusations.

“You are,” he says with unbridled fascination.

“I assure you I’m not.”

Your cheeks are heating up, and the nervousness inside your belly roils like a snake. How does he always manage to get you into a trap?

König leans back in his chair, now with his usual dignity on those shoulders. He even crosses his fingers loosely in his lap, looking like the conversation he’s about to have with you will, yet again, become another favourite of his. You’re not sure why you always feel like you’re being interrogated on the sly with him because König is the most simple, straightforward, blunt object of a man you have ever met. And still…

“Fucking other women is bad?” He asks innocently from that chair.

“Bad?” You huff. “Yes, if you have to force women under you, you are a brute.”

“And… ugly?”

“Very ugly. The ugliest man in the world.”

"Hm. But who say anything about forcing?"

König looks at you, calmly, as your stomach sinks from his words.

You can only stare at him as the world seems to fall apart around you, crumble into nothingness when there's sun shining and birds singing outside. Kicking him out of the tent – and almost kicking him in the face in the process – because you got afraid when he gave you a fervent little nib seems like the stupidest idea right now. If you were so willing to part your legs for him and moan under his tongue, surely some other insane woman would want to do that as well? Surely there is at least one woman in this camp who would gladly be pleased by this giant who doesn't hit or force women. Who only likes to… bite and squeeze and lick them.

You pout at him, lip almost trembling now, and he’s smiling, so, so very wide behind that mask. Gods damn him.

Then he rises and walks to you, suddenly looking like he isn’t suffering from a hangover after all. He strolls towards you with slow purpose, and you swallow the tears down, trying not to show him how they turn into ice inside your stomach.

“I have not touched women. Only you.”

He towers above you, looking down at you like you are indeed the most adorable thing in the entire world. You are not sure whether his words are to be believed, but something inside you says that this man never lies. As dense and dumb as he is, he is the most trustworthy human being you will ever meet.

“Only sleep with earth last night,” he says and starts to caress your hair. He even weighs some of it in his hand before sweeping it over your shoulder. Like you are simply his precious, silly little wife who has been spoiled too much.

“It was a cold mistress,” he laments, overly dramatic again, like a poor actor in a tragic play. Your heart aches, badly – you swear König is the most annoying man you have ever met, the most insufferable and lovable. You wonder if he has spent his seed on the cold, hard ground too. Given it to the Great Mother, who is a cold lover sometimes indeed… But not as cold as you.

You wonder how crazy it is that you have the power to drive this giant into the cold night from his own tent. König has had to face his hangover by waking up to a chilly dawn. His hand is not as warm as usual, and you start to worry that he has caught the wrath of wind spirits outside, soon rendering him weak and feverish. His skin is not supposed to feel this cold, not when he’s almost always blazing.

“I know a plant that might help,” you say diplomatically. “With your… Head.”

He looks at you, more and more curious by every passing moment. You hope he doesn’t weigh in his mind whether you are trying to poison him when he is weak. But he’s not that clever, perhaps, because he only looks at you like you’re an entire sun now, and very unlike the one that is giving him a headache today. You turn away from his hand – but not too quickly. You’re only feeling shy. And a bit uncomfortable.

“You should eat something. And drink water, not wine.”

“You care about my head?”

Gods… His voice is so, so soft. He’s seeing past all your defences again, and there is nothing you can do about it. You want to curse him but can’t. You simply can’t.

“Just… Eat some fruit, alright? And I need a kettle so that I can boil some water for the herbs.”

You rise from the bed and try to ignore his adoring stare. He doesn’t attempt to touch you again; he merely watches as you go about and eat a little something as if to show that when it is morning, people should have breakfast. Like you’re a mother trying to lead by example or a fussing young wife who is trying to help his husband. Your lips are a thin line as you search for grapes that aren’t too soft and a piece of bread that doesn’t yet have mould in it. You grab some figs: you know they are his favorite, and bring them to him to tell him you’re serious about him needing to eat.

And you feel silly.

You can’t even look at him. You’re feeling so odd, so weak, so warm inside, and it’s not because you’re disgusted; hell, it’s the opposite of being disgusted….

“I have fallen in love with you,” König says as he accepts your humble offering of food. You freeze in the middle of setting them on his palms, held upwards as if content with whatever you give him, even if it’s only a piece of bread and a few figs.

Gods. Mother… Don’t do this to me–

“That how you say it?”

You breathe in and out, calm, collected – you're not going to faint because some crazy giant thinks he's in love. Yes, that’s it… Everything’s alright. He’s just being silly again. He’s just playing his own little plays again.

But when you look at him, there is no actor there, no silly play: he’s just… König. He returns your helpless, cornered stare with warm kindness, reminding you of something, of some Roman or Greek god… Apollo. Yes, that’s it. Laureled sun god Apollo, the one everyone loves so dearly, because he always drives fear and doubt and darkness away. He’s Apollo, even though he doesn’t even prefer a bow.

And has the translator taught König the correct words? Has he memorized them so that he can say them to you when the time is right? Your lip starts to tremble, and you fight to not shudder a sigh. The old seer was wrong: this man will be your downfall.

“I’ll go get that plant,” you whisper, soft eyes wide and chest curled tight.

“Nein,” he says cheerfully, full of life and hope again. “Not alone, little one.”

…

A/N: Please don't send me death threats. Remember, big bang bang next chapter! Huge!!

Translations:

Sehr schön - Very beautiful

Kleine Fee - Little fairy

Hungrig? - Hungry?

Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen - I could never leave you

Für dich - For you

Du machst mich verrückt - You drive me crazy

Göttin der Erde… Gib dich mir - Goddess of the Earth… Give yourself to me

Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen - My Queen... I will make you very happy

Was ist das? - What is that?

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig smut

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pick-me-up-im-scared · 7 months ago

Text

Call Me When You Need Me (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Fluff)

Short Summary: When your best friend Ellie has problem sleeping you come over to help her. Like you always do!

Author´s Note: Another random idea I got that I thought would be waaay shorter. It´s not that long, but it's longER than I planned to. Istg, the universe wants me to write +5k fanfics. Everythime I come up with an idea for a blur (cause they're way quicker to write) I end up adding so much to it you can't even call it that. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy just a super cute little story! (I'm the person who tries to fill the "ellie x reader"-tag with stuff that isn't smut. Like I didn't just post two smuts right after each other a week ago.................)

Also! Ellie lives in the same house as Joel in this. Even though I'm well aware she has her own "hut" in the game

Words: 1473

(Pictures aren´t mine! I found them on Pinterest)

The empty streets felt oddly peaceful as you wandered down the oh, so familiar road. Only the streetlights lighting up your path as your sleepy feet stumbled on the sidewalk. It wasn’t unusual to find you walking down these streets at 3 am. You found yourself in this situation a little too often. Not that you complain! When your best friend needs you, she needs you. The crispy night air forced you to cross your arms in order to keep some warmth. Despite being near fall you decided to skip out on a jacket and just go with your outwashed hoodie. Big mistake. But it’s not that bad. Though you’d lie if you´d say you didn’t miss your warm, cozy bed. Just the thought was enough to put a drowsy smile on your face. You continued to kick rocks you stumbled upon on the sidewalk as you, trying to not hit any of the parked cars beside you, cause you know.......karma. Soon you noticed the familiar fence you helped painting white one summer. By the looks of it, it could use a little touch-up. Getting onto the lawn you quickly made your way to the back. The house was completely pitch black apart from one single window on the right corner.

You walked over to the corner of the porch, making sure to sneak a few glances through the dark windows, just to make sure Joel wasn’t up to grab a glass of water or something. But you’re just met with your own reflection in the surprisingly clean windows. You jumped up on the fence that tastefully decorated the porch to reach the edge of the roof. You took a sturdy grip around the aged wood before pushing yourself up the brick plated surface. This was nothing new to you. It was more of a routine. Getting called over to your friends house at least five times a week you kinda start to come up with a few tricks to make your arrival more smooth. Why are you climbing the house like you're a fucking monkey? you may as. The first time Ellie called me over you both thought Joel would be pissed if he knew. So you came up with the brilliant idea, with your life at risk, to climb up from the back. Yes, Ellie tired to prevent you from doing it, but you're too stubborn. She knows that damn well. And yes, you're pretty sure you've got a six-pack from all the times you've pushed your whole body onto the porch roof. But by the morning neither of you considered Joel's daily visit. So when he came to tell Ellie it's breakfast he was sure surprised to see you laying there, holding her. But he wasn't mad.....not at all. And when it was time for you to leave he made sure to throw out "You can take the door next time!". Despite that you continued to take your not-so-convenient way into Ellie's room. You saw it more as a fun thing, and you like to believe Ellie enjoys to too. Even thought she mumbled a "You're so dumb" before giving you a welcome hug.

You carfully got up from your crunched up position, being careful not to strainght out your back too much or you'll probably fall down and break your neck. At this height you could outline more details in the only lit up room, as if you didn’t know it by memory. You noticed the small crack Ellie always made sure to leave every night incase she got the urge that’s currently the reason you’re here. She didn’t want to have to get up and open it when you got there. Also, she’s been very clear that you can come over whenever you feel like it. Day as night. You used your finger to loop around the thick glass and push it up enough to give you the opportunity to get a better grip. You slid the glass into the slit, just enough to squeeze yourself through. The noice made Ellie quickly turn her head from her position on her bed. Just the look of you made her smile. "You came!" she happily exclaimed. You giggled "Of course! You said you had problem sleeping”.

Your beaten up sneakers barely got to touch the floor before Ellie threw herself at you, slamming you into the nearby wall. She continued to hug you, tighten up her grip. You chuckled, "Hey, hey! You shouldn't try to mush me like ground beef. Who´s gonna keep you company then?". Ellie let go off you and took a step back, giving you the chance to get away from the wall. "I'm sure you can take it" she snarky remarked "Weren't you the one who's got a six-pack" she sarcastically asked while slapping her hand against your clothed stomach. "Ow!" you screaked while backing way from her hand. Ellie just chucked before making her way back to her bed, signaling you to take place beside her. You let the strap of your backpack slide down your arms before leaving it by the end of Ellie's bed, to then quickly kick off your lazy tied shoes before crawling up the comfy bed.

You let out a deep sigh as your back hit the mattress, "I´ve told you to just call me whenever you need me". "I know" Ellie mumbled before looking to the side, "But you deserve to sleep too". "I never sleep as good as I do in your bed" you reassured her as. She smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. She's tried to fall asleep by herself when she has one of these...nights, but it's impossible! There's been times where she hasn't called you even thought she should have. Just cause she feels bad for forcing you out of bed. She never told you this or you'd kill her. She's lost count of all the times you've told her to just call you when she feels down or can't sleep.

You place your hands behind your head, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Ellie swore she'd get rid off, but hasn't "had the time to". But you swore she was lying. She's always been such a bad liar. But you think it's adorable, so you don´t mind. "I swear I'm getting us a house someday. That way you wouldn't have to call me whenever you have problem sleeping", Ellie smirked at you. "Yeah?" she asked while shooting herself closer to your laying from. "Yep! Then you could just come over to my room" you frowned a little "Or we might share the same bedroom...". You shrug "Or I mean, we're sleeping in the same bed now, so we could save a lot of money if we just get one". Ellie smiled at the thought but soon her face fell a little "How would that work when you bring a girl over?". You shot your head to give her a confused face "What the fuck, Ellie?" you grabbed a pillow from behind you to hit her playfully "I don´t even bring that many girls over!". "Suuure" Ellie playfully rolled her eyes while wearing that shit-eating grin.

You huffed before pushing her back against the bed so you could straddle her. Ellie had to stop herself from blushing at the sudden contact, but she's pretty sure you'd still notice if you weren't busy continuing hitting her with the pillow. You giggle "You play me out to be some type of slut!". She just shrugged "Maybe you are". You huffed once more, louder this time, before getting off Ellie's lap with a defeated look. "Fuck you, Ellie" you mumbled before throwing the pillow at her. She just laughs as she catches it and put it back to its original place. "Should we get to bed now? You know, the reason I'm here?". "Oh!" Ellie quickly adjusted herself "Yeah, that'd be nice". You grabbed the cover that was messily tossed to the side and placed it over you to. "You want me to read you a bed time story?". Ellie laughed "Fuck you, (y/n)". You smirked as you reached over her to turn off the lamp on her beside table. The feeling of your body being pressed against her made it hard for Ellie to focus, but thank god you soon got back to your previous position behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her frame before pulling her into your embrace. Transferring your warmth onto her. “You don’t have to come here every time, you know?” Ellie clarified. “No, I know” you answered “But I want to” you added before burring your face in the nape of her neck, automatically squeeze her torso a little tighter. Ellie couldn’t help but release a relaxed sigh, finally at peace.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou #tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us part two #ellie x reader fluff

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

Run Away To Me (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, intentional harm (in the recent past), blood, angst, protective Johnny, hurt/comfort, pining, speedy relationship, etc.

A/N: Johnny sweaty and working the forge...that is all.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You groggily awoke to the steady sound of a hammer meeting metal and the scent of eggs. Warm bread makes your mouth water. Eyelids peeling back, your lashes flutter in even intervals as you groan in the back of your throat, content and unbothered in this soft bed of fur and cotton. For a moment you had forgotten everything that had transpired—the run and the rain slamming into your scalp.

Had it all been some dark dream? A trick?

“Ow!” You hiss, hand darting out from the plush covers as a sharp pain darts through it. Your eyes blink on the bloody bandages, white now completely bled through with fresh crimson.

Everything comes rushing back in a lightning-strike moment of realization.

Quickly sitting up, your face moves all over the sun-lit room, rays of light leaking in through the opened shutters; past the glass of the windows, the nearly violent green of the near forest line meets your wide gaze. A small sound exits your throat, fingers sliding through the bear fur that had been once pulled up to your ears as you gather your senses.

Johnny. The blacksmith.

Your eyes lock onto the small table across the room.

As the hammering outside continues to ring in your eardrums, you tilt your head at the items sitting atop—slipping off the bed you go to tidy the fur but pause in your curiosity. A patch of blood from your wound stains the sheets and you slow at the sight, the air leaving your lungs.

“Oh,” you swallow down your slight nervousness, heart jumping for a moment as you bite your lip.

You would have to tell Mr. MacTavsish—your brows furrow.

Not Mr. MacTavish, he asked me to call him Johnny. A strange thing, now that you thought about it as you slowly back away and go to the table, gut rumbling at the sight of fresh eggs on bread. There was also a parcel covered in cloth sitting on the chair.

Carefully tiptoeing, you grab the plate with a delicate hand, picking it up as you lick your lips. Had the man…made you breakfast?

“What reality have I slipped into?” Your lips whisper, Johnny’s clothes hanging off of you heavily. Not only food but milk had been poured into a carved cup as well, and utensils placed on the table with care. Fork and knife on the right, spoon on the left; all forged and tempered.

It was sweet, perhaps. Kind.

You eat standing, bare feet taking you around the homestead as you listen to the blacksmith work outside. Your hands take up carved knick-knacks of animals, twirling them in a hand as you lick your lips before placing them back with all the care of a priceless possession. Chuckling at the poorly wooden face of a deer, you bring the last bits of food to your lips as you pass the window.

Sucking in a swift breath, your body freezes.

Perhaps it was the sudden freedom of your situation or even the want of true, honest, companionship, but you had suddenly never seen someone look as good as kind Johnny MacTavish as he worked his forge.

The earth was still layered in dew and mist, the distance between the main home and the small hut that was holding anvil, tongs, the flame of the furnace itself, and a great number of hammers. One of which was being wielded with firm efficiency by the sweat-stained hands of Johnny—being brought down again and again to the molten form of what would be a fine sword.

Clothed in a rolled-back white tunic, like the one from yesterday, and brown breaches, there was a leather apron tied ‘round his waist cinched tight. Lips parting, you watch with a guilty conscious for the frailness of your resolve; gaping at the sight.

Johnny works like the dead might rise, not faltering or slowing in the abuse of the metal—twisting the rough shape of the blade and flipping it with one hand while the other hammers. How he doesn’t overheat you’d never know; letting out a slow breath as the sweat slips down his strong jaw and drips from his chin, mouth open with a far-off pant of air.

Electricity of the same breed as last night sizzles down your spine like a finger caressing the knobs of bone, hairs standing on end as you quickly clear your throat against the burn of your face. You shift your body away, fearfully aware of the scent of Johnny’s clothes and the very bed you had slept in last night.

“My parents will never allow me back into their home,” you utter, picking at your bandages. “I shall never even be seen in the very air near them.”

But the true question was whether or not that was a good thing. While this freedom of yours was what you wanted, you were a woman of relative standing—having no family, no husband, and no money to your name was not ideal. In fact, it could very well be the death of you.

You stand and lightly lick your fingers of crumbs. “At the very least,” the wood under your feet is warm from an only recently dead hearth, “this Blacksmith is quite good with meals. Such a peculiar man, hm?”

Smiling to yourself, you chuckle and push back the heat in your blood; this odd attraction to a working man. So different from Lord Wilkin.

Not wanting to sink back into that hole quite yet, you remember Johnny’s hands slipping over yours as you take a final glance back out the window before heading back over to the table. Cobalt eyes meet yours in an instant of wide shyness through the glass.

Staring at each other, the Blacksmith's legs shift from where they dig into the packed ground, large biceps tight as they hold the hammer and the dulling metal.

Blinking quickly, you feel your heart skip beats at the soft contact.

Smiling awkwardly, you raise the empty plate in display, chuckling as a wide, pleased, grin builds on Johnny’s face. He mocks a small bow, hammer going across his abdomen as his dirty cheeks peel back at his glee—you see his chest move with a deep laugh. Like the scent of lavender in your nose, you can call the sound of it to your ears as if he was in the house all this time.

Quickly skittering away, you feel giddy, placing down your plate and taking a sip of milk before looking at the parcel. While your mind may be mingling with the blacksmith and the sweat of his body, curiosity was getting to you. And, mayhaps, a shyness at being caught.

It was covered in dark cloth, and when you touch it, the fabric immediately reminds you of a cloak—an expensive and finely spun wool dyed green. Lips parting, your hands pick it up and place it on the table; turning it over as you pull at the twine tie.

Your heart seems to grow like a flower, the pedals opening and the stem becoming strong with a rush of admiration.

“When did you do this, Blacksmith?” Your voice hits off the walls in a breathy gasp as the hammering picks back up outside.

Smiling delicately, you pick up the fine linen of a chemise and the paired kirtle dyed deep blue. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing you’d worn by a long shot but as you step back and size it to your body, you decide that it was the most meaningful.

When had he gotten up to ride into town and buy this for you? How much did it cost?

How could this blacksmith be as chivalrous as a Knight? Not wanting you to be forced to wear his own clothes in a way unflattering to your status even if you didn’t truly care about all of that.

You had no answer, body vibrating with warmth as you slipped out of Johnny’s sleep clothes and slid the gifted items over your skin. They were slightly oversized for ease of the man’s mind, not knowing your measurements. With a small bronze clip, you situate the cloak before the boots at the door add to the already bursting emotions in your veins.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, putting your fingers to your lips to hide the shaky inhale. All of this care after such horror was nearly unthinkable; by a complete stranger no less.

Your own family had never been so generous.

Taking up your now empty cup, you look to the water basin and let your ears twitch to the sound of physical labor; thinking, wanting to give even just a sliver of thanks back for this debt. As you lace your new boots, leather, you keep the memory of his calloused hands in the front of your skull with honied sanctity.

You fill the cup and that’s that.

Cheeks heating, you bring the water with you as you exit the home, breathing down the scent of rain and pulling your cloak tighter to your neck at the slight chill. Closing the door, you make your way to Johnny who continues to work away, now a small distance from the anvil and setting the iron back into the fire to heat.

His large back flexes and rolls with the movement.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the cup stays steady in your two hands as you see Johnny’s muscles momentarily tense, blue eyes turning to look over his shoulders. There’s a moment where something swirls in his eyes as he stares down at your new clothes, standing up to his full height quickly. You blink. “...I’m sorry, but besides an offer of fresh water I’m unable to repay you for the gifts.”

“Ah,” Johnny clears his throat, looking back to his forge before turning back to you with a bashful look. “Please, none of that. I needed to go off and grab more grain for my horse, see.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad they fit, Dearie, was a bit worried I’d asked the wrong size.”

“They’re perfect,” you shake your head. “It was…far more than I deserve.”

Brows furrow. For such a presence, he slips the cup out of your hands with more care than your husband-to-be had ever thought to handle you, nodding a deep thank you.

“Now why would you say something like that?” Your head tilts, lips thinning. You suppose it was right to make good on the deal you’d struck last night.

Johnny takes a sip from the cup, waiting for your answer as one hand hangs from the neck of his apron, fast lungs steadily slowing. As you frown and gather your thoughts, you don’t notice his eyes narrowing, concerned.

“Well, anyways,” he clears his throat, itching at his stubble to change the subject as you startle back to reality before you can form a sentence. “I suppose I’d better take a look at that cut of yours, then, eh? Wouldn’t want it to get infected, do we?”

“That’s not…” He has already darted to a small chest in the corner of the open hut, cup placed on the anvil top before he opens the thing with a scratch of rusty hinges. “...necessary.”

The blacksmith laughs, taking out fresh badges.

“I don’t think gettin’ bedridden is in your plans, now is it? C’mon…I’ll be gentle.” Johnny winks with a smirk and your pulse flares; stuttering as he grasps your elbow—leading you out of the forge and to a small break in the trees.

A stump and a dead firepit take form, and you’re plopped down to the wood with a small huff, a stiff look sent to the man who only smiles and raises an eyebrow.

“Is my kindness wearin’ ya down, Little Lady?”

“You’ll make me lose my head and I’ve only known you for, at most,” you emphasize as he kneels down and takes your bloody hand, “half a day.”

“Being generous,” Johnny hums, unwrapping your hand and once again looking you over. Bloody, but still alright. His fingers move to pick up dew from the grass and wipe away some of the crimson pigment as if an artist. “When one goes and nearly makes a man’s house crumble from the force of ‘er fists, it’s only customary for him to respect her.” Blue eyes gaze up to you and twinkle. “I’m just savin’ my own hide.”

“How honorable,” you shake your head and turn to hide the full-face grin, moments later laughs slip your tongue. “They weren’t that loud,” your vise insists, “...were they?”

“Thought the world was ending,” Johnny says it was a fake expression of seriousness, re-wrapping your hand in clean cloth. “Damn near got to my knees and prayed.”

You find great amusement in that, placing a hand over your mouth as your spine shakes with loud laughs. The scene is similar to the one from last night—the blacksmith offering jokes and merriment to get you to laugh. It's as if every time he succeeds he smiles just a smidge wider. Realizing this, you feel your lips twitch and you look away, embarrassed.

“...I promised you answers, did I not?” You decide to ask, deciding that getting this over soon was the best course of action; also the more courteous one. After so much giving, you had to share at least the reason for all of this. “I’m sorry.” Johnny frowns at you, tying another loose knot atop your palm before sitting back on the ground.

On his bent knee, he rests his arm, hanging off loosely, while the other hand rests behind his back as a way to keep him upward. With all of this, with him, you'd entirely forgotten to mention the stained sheets.

“There’s no need to apologize to me, Dearie, I won’t do anythin’. I promised you,” he smiles, “remember?” You blink softly at his strong face, those eyes studying you as your hands rest in your lap; curled over each other.

“There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Johnny huffs a chuckle, shaking his head. “Take your time, eh? I won’t be needin’ to travel back into town again until late evening.” Your hands curl slightly tighter, touched.

The blacksmith watches you as you gather your thoughts, your face going stiff and new boots shuffling over the grass. Blue slides to your hand and his lips turn down.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d been up most of the night and working before the sun had risen—mind occupied by the woman that had been in his bed and the little information he had. Obviously, Lord Wilkin was looking for you; adamantly.

Relentlessly.

When he’d been in town there had been guards everywhere, checking every shop and house like beasts of metal and sharp words. You were the Lord’s bride, of course. As the tailor had asked him, a bit dejected, if he’d taken a wife as he’d bought you your chemise and kirtle, the woman had mentioned the wedding.

“Little thing darted off during the Handfasting ceremony, I ‘erd. The Lord had only just put the knife to her palm before she yelled and fled. Oh, ya should have seen it, Mr. MacTavish. Like a bat from Hell, Lord help me. He’ll not stop till he’s found ‘er.”

Johnny’s stomach rolls, abdomen tightening as he shifts to release tension. Along the ground, his hand momentarily clenches. You hum under your breath, whispering out an easy, “Are we sure we should be outside for this?”

The man blinks in confusion.

“Well, would…you prefer being inside?” You look nervous, fingers flinching over themselves and Johnny sits up straighter, letting his large hand carefully grasp your knee. Your innocently wide eyes lock with his own. He offers a comforting look. “It’s no difference to me—you decide. Whichever’s easier, eh?”

“It’s just,” you begin, the skin below your kirtle burning you in the best possible way. What was happening to you? “Well…My family rarely let me out.” Johnny’s body stills to a near stone carving. “Said I was to stay inside. I suppose I’m not overly used to it, you see.”

It’s not impossible to understand the role that was placed on you. Arranged marriage, sold off to be a housewife for a large dowry paid up by the Lord. You’d been brought up to be tossed away at a moment's notice. The blacksmith’s jaw tightens, bone sharp through the flesh.

“...Well,” his voice is a bit ragged—scratchy. You listen with nervousness in your chest, a slow infection of unease. “I’m not your family, am I? It’ll be good to get some sun, I think—let’s stay here for a little longer and then we can go back in when you’re ready. There’s no rush to things.”

Letting you calm down, his thumb rubs a small circle before he pulls it away, perhaps realizing what he was doing before clearing his throat, cheeks alight.

A small breeze pushes through the pines, a wind filled with the scent of fire and earth—dirt and dew. It was peaceful here, among the old spirits and the hidden trails. So different in the light than it was in the pouring rain.

“I imagine you knew about the wedding?” You sigh, staring at your lap. “Lord Wilkin?”

“Aye,” Johnny nods, speaking quietly. He doesn’t want to force you. “I did.”

“I was placed into the marriage two months ago by my parents, an agreement of land and money was traded for my hand.” Watching, the man’s eyes go sad, lids tilting. He stops the grunt in the back of his throat as you continue. “I had resigned myself to it, truly. Being of enough standing all I was needed for was marriage—”

“That’s utter shite.” Johnny growls, angry at the sentence. “They would just toss you away like that? To a bastard ten times your age?”

You stare, brows tight. “I…I’m a daughter, am I not?”

Johnny’s jaw goes slack, eyes sharp with horror as his gaze looks deeply into your vision, biceps tense with cooling sweat and dirt. Such a sight it was, two beings as different as a mountain and a valley; so near but starkly contrasted in the harsh strength of rock and the gentle sway of grassy low-land. Bears and deer, barn swallows that sit on rafters and golden eagles that soar tempests.

The dark-haired man could never imagine raising a girl for nothing else than to be a man’s property—to sell as if a good and nothing more. Johnny turns his head away before he snaps at nothing, a low sound trapped in his chest. You never had a single choice.

Confused by his approach to this, you watch the side of his face as the man’s expression of anger slowly shifts back to a hidden seriousness. Eyes dark and his hand tightened into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Dearie. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Johnny blinks, shaking his head. “Hope I didn’t scare ya.”

“No,” you motion a hand. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” He sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “Ah, please, keep going. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise.” You smile tinily.

“At the wedding, when it was near the end, they brought out the cloth and the knife for the Handfasting ceremony,” Johnny leans forward, and you look down at him on the ground. He lent a sort of silent vigor, you think to yourself. A comfort. “He dragged it along my skin and then he gripped my hand and forced the base of my palm harder into it.”

Your words get smaller and hushed, flexing your damaged hand. “...I think…that he wanted it to leave a scar. I bolted off before they could tie the cloth.”

Johnny stands and brings you into a hug, a hand coming to the back of your head and pressing your skull gently to his chest.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He breathes, and you slowly wind your own hands around his waist; melting into him without even knowing it. Johnny’s scent encompasses you like a blanket, and your very bones seem to sprout flowers from the marrow as your eyes get watery, held in such a way that most people only dream about.

When the first silent tears fall he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—only holds you more firm and sighs into your scalp.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, honest and truthful. Could you run? Go to another fiefdom? How far would you even be able to make it? No food, no horse, no supplies.

You’d be found out in no time.

Johnny moves back, tilting his head down to you and grasping your face with a single hand. “We’ll figure it out, Little Lady. By my word, I’ll do what I can to make sure you’ll never go back to that bastard of a Lord again.” A hard thumb pushes back your tears and blue eyes soften on you. “Can you trust me?”

Can and not do.

Even the simple alleviation of pressure from a word makes you care for this man even more than you should. The simmering attraction to not only his appearance but his steadfast heart; indomitable morals.

“You, Johnny?” You sniffle, a grin twitching your lips up as the blacksmith’s face goes hot. “Yes, I can trust you.” Actions enough from last night had proven that.

Johnny huffs and lets the blush on his face spread along his neck, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes for too long before he has to clear his throat and gaze to the side. Not knowing what overtakes you, you lightly press your lips to his cheek—feeling the heat and the slight gasp that escapes his lips.

You giggle as he grunts a thanks, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as you both continue to hold one another. His grip travels down to your back as he raises a brow, trying to push past his beginning stutter as he speaks. “I’d tell ya that if you do that again, I might just have a fainting spell, Miss.”

“A fainting spell,” you tease, “from a kiss, Blacksmith?”

“Aye—especially if it’s from such a Bonnie woman like you, see.” You both laugh, faces burning up, as serious topics and tears fade into the past.

As you had said, where any other man would have been different, Johnny Mactavish had proven himself to be right and true. Even if you’d been impossibly tired last night, the small sliver of fear had still remained that something might happen to you here; in the presence of one man in the middle of the woods. No such fear remains.

Like a great Lord of old, Johnny had offered sanctuary from a man of cruel and horrible intentions. But perhaps he’d offered far more than that, with how he’s staring at you.

Your laughs steadily die down to a pulsing silence, hands around one another and faces only a few inches away. It’s bizarre how fast this had happened—these feelings brimming in the cup of your heart. A bowl overflowing with care and affection; of something else that cannot be named for fear it’s only a simple infatuation. A twin flame of red-hot fire that could rival Johnny’s forge.

“I…don’t want to overstep,” the man says, and your eyes are drawn to his lips as they move—a small scar you’d yet to notice living on his chin, a stain of lighter flesh. You swallow stiffly and dart your gaze back to his as you feel his heart pounding in his ribcage. It wasn’t a mystery to wonder if your own is doing the same. “Y’should tell me to stop, Dearie.”

“To stop what,” you pull the words from the depths of your throat. “What are you planning on doing, Johnny?” He shivers as you say his name as if put under a spell.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, now?” You stifle a confused laugh, furrowing your brows with amusement.

“What?”

“One half-day is all it took for you to chain me to your will,” he grasps the bottom of your chin and angles your head up; you go willingly. His eyes search yours for any hesitation or flighty emotions. All he finds is wide awe. “Most would call that witchery, Little Lady.”

“Then it seems your will is easily broken, Blacksmith.”

“Perhaps it is,” Johnny smirks, his breath puffing out along your parted lips. Your body vibrates with anticipation of what was to come, hearing his voice lower to a deep rasp. “Haven’t ya heard…? Blacksmiths have a weakness for runaway brides.”

“Is that so? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to show you.” His lips are firm and his body runs hot.

Eyes fluttering shut, you sigh into him as his hands dig into your gifted cloak, meeting him with every pass. Low purrs of satisfaction echo from his chest and make you shiver, nose pressing into his lower cheek. Playfully, his teeth nip at your flesh and you gasp; eyes pulling back to stare half-lidded as blue sparks with mischief.

You should stop this—but you were starved for honest affection. Companionship, even. Johnny by far wasn’t the worst to throw your lott in with and he might just be the best possible to fill that role. Life in this era is fast and harsh; it’s unfair. You had to make quick decisions without thinking of the possible consequences.

So as you blink up at the man who watches you closely, you place your fingers on the side of his face and tilt his lips back to yours with a small smile. His hand at the curve of your spine twitches, sliding along the cloak in minute increments as Johnny’s heart hammers like his tools.

It’s as if the forge was still around the two of you—air hot and the feeling sticking to your skin like a brand of sin and forbidden magnetism. He shouldn’t have kissed you, but the hypnosis of the hammer was in his head; its rhythm and striking slam. You drew him in as the anvil does the iron.

In this moment of contentment, there is a fast sound of something in the air, something that rattles the two of you out of your tender embrace to gaze with contorted faces through the thin line of trees. Panting and open.

Through the foliage back to the homestead is the rapid movement of hooves and the baying of hounds.

It strikes you like a knife, eyelids moving far back as Johnny’s head snaps to the noise with something growing in the back of his expression. Calls; shouts. You know who it is, who’s found you out. You’d never heard it until it was too late.

“Johnny,” your voice says, fearful with wild eyes.

“Stay behind me,” he says, monotone with red lips. Shadows of horses and guards are near the house. You stare up at him in shock. A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Nothin’ll happen to you.” His eyes dig past layers.

There was no running from this.

“Okay,” you whisper.

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dietpitt · 4 months ago

Text

[ My AO3 ] [ My Writing Tag ]

key: ❤️= smut/suggestive 💗= personal favorite

Stan Pines x Reader

disco_date.discard('robbie'): ❤️💗(AO3 Link) (tumblr post coming soon)

Swooning Over Stans: What if Robbie hadn't interrupted your final date?

Green Is Definitely Your Color ❤️💗

[Read on AO3]

In which body paint and Stan's mouth save Halloween (but ruin a perfectly good costume).

Keep It Cool ❤️ [Read on AO3]

A broken A/C and some Stan belly appreciation

Fall Into Me, And Then... 💗 [Read on AO3]

Childhood Best Friends to Lovers with a clueless Teen!Stan

Summer Lovin’ ❤️ Some summer fun with Teen!Stan and friends

Wait ❤️ Teasing Young!Stan during his tour at the Murder Hut

Patience ❤️ [Part 2 of Wait] Your actions on the tour have consequences

Soft Cotton ❤️💗 An intimate moment; playing with Young!Stan's white t-shirt

Found In a moment when you're down and crying, a stranger comforts you.

Friandise 💗 [Read on AO3]

Stan gives you more to feast on than just Stancakes in bed

<1k Words

The Derby Blues 💗- You accompany "Stan" to the Kentucky Derby

Rasberries for Breakfast - Stan blows raspberries on your tummy

It Hits the Fan - Stan's past catches up to the both of you

Apartment Hunt - A mini heist with Stan in a stranger's apartment

<500 Words

Dip & Tow 💗- You join Stan in his bed one night on the Stan O' War II

“Are You Still Awake?” - Stan has trouble sleeping; you comfort him

The Usual ❤️- An intimate, stolen moment in The Shack's gift shop

Lucky? - Stan's thoughts about you, wearing his jacket while out on a date

A Bar by the Bay - Sharing shots with a handsome older sailor

Happy - For the first time in maybe ever... you're happy

Stan x OC

"Red" ❤️- Post-Swooning Over Stans, Bri meets back up with Stan [Read on AO3]

Orange, Pink Stan helps Em celebrate their birthday in style

Ford Pines x Reader

Galaxy Ford - Ford helps you study for an exam [Read on AO3]

“You Can’t Keep Doing This” 💗 - A stolen moment in Ford's lab (and lap)

“My Hand’s Getting Awful Lonely...” - Ford works out a pickup line

A Casual Chat ❤️- A video call with Modern!College!Ford gets a bit out of hand

Musings

Stan vs Ford: Bringing You Gifts/Treasures

Stan vs Ford: Foreplay ❤️

Stan vs Ford: Falling Asleep

Stan as a cop (he'd never be a fucking cop lol)

Stan x Reader x Ford - You have a date night in and fall asleep on the couch

graphics by @saradika-graphics

#stan pines x reader #gravity falls #stanley pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #grunkle stan #stan pines x you #grunkle ford

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 6 months ago

Note

Hi there, i feel like our spouse doesn't react much to all the magical weirdness on our farm

Can i get some hc for Sdv+sve spouses one day waking up and being able to see an army of juminos recolting crops (farmer have like 4/6 juminos huts and lots of crops)

And the farmer just say "oh you can finally see them" while giving the juminos some raisins.

Heya 👋 Thank you for your ask, dear anon! (and I apologize for taking a little longer to answer 😅).

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Alex can't believe his own ears! Spirits? For real? No way! The athlete dropped everything and quickly walked over to one of the Junimo and started poking at them, causing the little creature to squeak. "Alex, don't be rude. At least offer them raisins first." "Oh, sorry..." But he can't help himself because... a real spirits!

"Hey hon, I made you coffee-" Stepping out onto the front porch of the farm house, Shane found an army of apples with eyes and arms and legs following Farmer around like little chickens following mama hen. With a "fuck this shit, I'm out" face, he walked back home, thinking it was all from lack of sleep.

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his orbits when he saw Farmer surrounded by apple-like creatures that were jumping and reaching for the raisins in Farmer's hands. The guitarist approached his spouse with an obvious question, but his stomach rumbled treacherously. "Do you have any raisins left for me?" Breakfast first, question later.

"Huh." That was all Sebastian expressed as he treated Junimo to some raisins. This creatures kinda cute, actually. "Sebby, dear, didn't it surprise you at all?" *Sebastian looks at the huge slime hutch, the coop with void chickens, the giant golden clock and the four tall warp obelisks* "Nah, not really, why?"

Not believing his own eyes, Harvey wiped his glasses and looked again, but what he saw before him had not changed. Farmer was still standing over the strange leaf house, and the apple-like creatures were still jumping around them. The doctor felt a little uneasy. He wants to ask. At the same time, he doesn't want to ask anything, lest he break his mind completely.

At first Elliott couldn't understand why there were different apples lying around his spouse. Red, yellow, green... blue and purple? Until those apples had eyes, arms and legs. "Good morning, Elliott, did you sleep well?" Apparently not, because the writer feels that sleep deprivation is making him see some... jumping apples.

Why would Magnus be surprised by the existence of Junimo? In fact, he's the one who introduced Farmer to these creatures. Interest in how his spouse had made friends quickly with the forest spirits, yes, but surprised? He is a wizard, he'd seen more stranger things than that in his life.

Well, that.... explains why Farmer refused Victor's advice to hire some helpers for the farm. Turns out his beloved spouse already has helpers... Little, apple-like helpers. Victor knows magic exists, but he didn't think he'd see something like this in real life. This is great, actually. Very interesting.

Does Lance see Junimo? *Chuckle* Of course, dear Farmer, and not only does he see them, but he even managed to ask the little forest spirits a few questions. For a good portion of raisins, because they love this treat so much. When else would the gallant adventurer have a chance to chat with Junimos, hm?

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

It had been about half a minute, and Maru couldn't let go of the idea that what she was seeing was the work of magic, and not Farmer's little robotic assistants. Magic, spirits... No, that somehow doesn't fit in her head. She's determined to study these 'Junimos' to see who or what they are. Erm, if the Farmer and the creatures themselves don't mind, of course.

You know that state when you have a lot of conflicting emotions bubbling up inside you, you don't know how to react to your own cognitive dissonance about the "magic" that is right in front of your eyes, but you try to stay positive for the sake of the person you love? That's what Penny was experiencing when her spouse was showing her forest spirits.

"Oh, so cute!" Abigail has a bit of magic in her, so of course she can see Junimo too. She's in awe of these forest creatures! And they are such wonderful helpers, harvesting the crops. "My spouse pays you well, yeah?" And the little Junimos jump around happily with tasty raisins in their little hands.

"Eeew! What is tha- Ah, okay, at least it's not rats." Apparently Haley can excuse cute magical forest spirits, but she draws the line when it comes to rats. Because she's terrified of those rodents, yuck. Junimos at least help her beloved Farmer with work, and they smell like forest freshness.

Merciful Yoba! Emily felt the presence of someone's unusual aura, but she couldn't explain who it was coming from. It turned out that all the time the little apple-shaped creatures had been at the farm and had helped her spouse! Kind spirits, how wonderful! And they like raisins? Oh, she sure has a treat for her new forest friends!

Huh, when Leah mentioned that Stardew Valley is "full of magic," she meant that it's full of inspiration for her future works, not literally... Oh, well. Yes, strange little creatures live with her and Farmer, so what? They're cute, kind, and hard-working. Great neighbours (not like she had when she lived in the Zuzu City).

Olivia thought all week that there were a bunch of mice running around the farm, stealing the ripe wheat. After expressing their fears to Farmer that their crops might be destroyed by pests, Farmer showed their wife that it wasn't mice, but little helpers, Junimos, who live there. ...She need a glass of wine. Maybe two.

"Oh, do you see them too, dear?" To be honest, Claire would rather not see them. Not that she minded the cute, erm, creatures, just... Eh, you know what? Why should she be surprised at all? There are so many unusual things and creatures (golden chickens, slimes) on her spouse's farm that there's no point in her being surprised.

Sophia was stuck somewhere between the "Adorable lil apples!" and "Eeeeep! What is that?!" when she saw her spouse surrounded by a dozen magical Junimos. The pink-haired girl floods Farmer with questions and tries to take pictures of the forest creatures on her phone, to show Scarlett (only they've scattered now, awww!)

_________________________________________

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kwanisms · 4 months ago

Text

Of Hellfire & Saints 02 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

«« previous | library of illusion masterlist | next »»

➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 22.9k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

a/n: the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. MAIN SCENE: fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (love, sweetheart, darling, etc), love-making (again because they’re in love~), cum inside, and that’s also it on this one! SMALLER SCENES: mentions of oral (f receiving, m receiving) and other elements of foreplay as well as table sex but nothing mentioned in great detail.

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The next morning you woke up before Yeosang and got up, grabbed your nightgown from your things, and pulled it on. Normally you would get dressed but as this was now your marital home, you didn’t feel the need to follow your parents rules. Instead, you made breakfast, collected a few eggs from the chicken coop and prepared a nice breakfast as well as some tea.

Once breakfast was ready, you carried the plates into the bedroom where Yeosang was still asleep and sat on the edge of the bed. You set the plates down and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and watched as he slowly came to.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep and looked up at you sleepily, a smile crossing his face as you came into focus. “Morning,” he murmured and you smiled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Good morning, husband,” you said softly.

Yeosang’s eyes opened again as the realization sank in, his smile growing wider. “Oh, right,” he said as he reached up, caressing your cheek. “We got married,” he whispered to which you giggled and stole another kiss. “We got married,” you repeated.

Yeosang pulled you into a kiss, lips parting yours but you pulled back before he could escalate any further. “We can always spend the morning in bed,” you said softly as you sat up. “But you should eat breakfast first,” you added. You turned, grabbing one of the plates and holding it for him. Yeosang glanced at the plates and then back at you.

“Shouldn’t we get up and eat at the table?” he asked, to which you chuckled, kissing his confused face. “Who said we have to?” you asked as you handed him his plate and utensils. Yeosang sat up, leaning against the headboard as you grabbed the other plate and carefully climbed over him, taking the spot next to him with a giggle. He laughed as you settled in next to him and started eating.

“This is our home,” you said as you looked up at him. “And we make the rules here.”

You both ate breakfast, sipping the tea you had made and when you both finished, you took the plates and cups into the kitchen and set them aside to wash later before returning to the bed. Yeosang started to get up but you removed your chemise, letting it fall to the floor. Yeosang looked up at your naked form as you approached him.

“If this is what it’s like to be married,” he started, taking your hand and guiding you onto the bed as you pulled the covers back. “I’m glad I asked you to marry me.”

The next couple hours were spent in bed, Yeosang learning your body and you learning his, exploring each other more thoroughly. He took the lead, having picked up quickly what you liked and that you preferred him on top of you.

You introduced him to other aspects of the marital bed, learning very quickly what he liked and what made him weak in your hands. He wasted no time exploring your body and reciprocating the things you had learned from Hongjoong.

He learned that he really liked the way you tasted and how he could make you come undone with his tongue and fingers. He learned there was more to sex than just procreating and after multiple orgasms and coming inside you numerous times during your sessions, there was no doubt in your minds that one of them had to take.

You lay on the bed after hours of lovemaking, Yeosang on top of you, his head resting on your chest as you relaxed. Without warning, he raised his head and looked at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I know we’ve only been married for less than a day but I honestly think I —” his words were cut off by a sharp knocking at the door.

Yeosang glanced in the direction of the front door before turning to look at you. “Hold that thought,” he said as he got up, hastily grabbing his clothes and dressed quickly. You pulled the covers up as he walked over to the door, throwing you a grimace before closing it.

You sat up, holding the sheets to your chest as you listened to his footsteps approach the front door followed by the sound of it opening. “Oh, Jonas,” you heard your husband say and fought the urge to burst into laughter, knowing full well that Yeosang probably looked less than presentable.

“Is everything alright?” you heard Jonas ask. You stifled a laugh as Yeosang stammered out a yes. He admitted the two of you woke up late and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing at Jonas’ next question.

“Did the missus keep you up all night?”

You could imagine the look on Yeosang’s face and that his cheeks were probably bright red but he did sound embarrassed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting me?” You shifted on the bed, straining your ears to hear the next words.

“The priests have started to arrive. The ones you sent for from the neighboring villages.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Priests?’ you wondered as you listened in. “Oh! I’ll just get dressed and meet you at the church,” Yeosang replied, sounding slightly flustered. You couldn’t see Jonas but imagined he nodded as his response was delayed for a moment.

“I think that would be best. I’m sure your wife could use the time during your absence to attend to her household duties.” Your smile fell but you let the comment slide. You heard the sound of footsteps heading for the door and Yeosang bid Jonas farewell before shutting the door.

You heard his steps shuffle towards the bedroom door and it opened. You looked up, meeting his eyes and finally the laughter you’d been holding in sprang free and you erupted into a fit of giggles as he entered the bedroom, moving to the bed and climbing onto it.

“How much did you hear?” he asked and you managed to choke out you heard enough. A grin spread across his face and soon your laughter came out unabashed as he started to tickle your sides. “You find it funny?” he asked as he continued to tickle you, laughing at your attempts to stop him. “He knew! He knew what we were doing!” he added.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down. “Of course he knew, Yeosang. We’re a young married couple. We just married yesterday. Of course we’re going to consummate our marriage.” Yeosang looked mortified but could help smile as you continued to giggle and pulled him into a kiss.

He leaned into you, deepening the kiss before he pulled back. “No,” he said as you kissed down the side of his neck. “I have to go. I can’t stay here in bed with you, as tempting as it is,” he added, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “After I meet with this priest, I will return and then we can resume, all right?”

You pouted up at him which only made him chuckle and tap the tip of your nose gently. “I promise, sweetheart,” he added, the sound of the name on his tongue making a flutter erupt in your stomach. “I have to meet with these priests and explain the situation and afterwards, I’ll come back.”

He pressed a few short kisses to your lips and you sighed. “Oh all right,” you finally conceded. “How long will you be?” you asked, taking his hand and nuzzling into his palm. “A few hours maybe,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded slowly before sighing again. “Then I shall have lunch ready when you get back.” Yeosang smiled, pulling you into another kiss. “I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and starting to dress and make himself presentable.

Once he left, you got up and dressed finally and went about your chores, cleaning the used dishes and starting a fire to make lunch. You worked diligently as you hummed to yourself. You cut up potatoes and other vegetables from the pantry and added them to a pot with some beef stock as well as a cut of beef.

As it simmered, you went to work cleaning and putting away your things. You also hung up your painting, the one you had made of the wildflower field. As you stared at it, your mind wandered, a bittersweet feeling filling your chest.

Things had changed so drastically in the last few weeks since Hongjoong’s death. Before, you had planned to run away with Hongjoong, marry elsewhere, and start a life near the sea. That seemed like a distant memory now as you stood in your new home where you would live with your husband.

You had never imagined you would marry Yeosang as he was not the man you had fallen for but as the events unfolded, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. Hongjoong was the love of your life but you knew with Yeosang, you could be happy. You would be.

As promised, Yeosang returned but later than lunchtime as while he was meeting with the first priest, another arrived making it two he needed to speak with. When he returned for dinner, you sat at the table this time, listening as he told you about the priests, one named Yunho and one named Jongho.

That night as you were cleaning up after dinner, Yeosang joined you and despite your insistence that he leave the work to you, he helped you anyway. Initially you thought it was odd but as soon as the dishes were done he pulled you into a kiss which led to him guiding you to the table where he made you lie back as his kisses traveled down your clothed body, pulling your skirt up and burying his head between your thighs.

He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time and instead of letting you fall over the edge, he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he undid his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock which he then pushed into you. It was raw, carnal and passionate as he made love to you on the table.

You seemed to have awakened a sexual beast in him after the first night and the next few days consisted of the same schedule. Meeting the priests who arrived, giving a brief explanation of the situation and taking them around the village to introduce them to the villagers before returning home for dinner and spending a good portion of the night making love to you.

His stamina and strength surprised you, as well his ability to pin you down against the nearest flat surface and make you moan his name over and over again. It was almost more than you could bear but bear it you did, because you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every moment of it. Yeosang all but worshiped your body and any chance he had to show you that, he took.

His sexual appetite did not diminish even when the misfortunes of the village continued with the odd goat or pig being slaughtered in the night. Yeosang continued to show you physical love every night and even some mornings before you could pull yourself out of the tangle of sheets that was your marital bed.

Whether or not your attempts had gotten you pregnant didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed the physically intimate relationship between you and your husband immensely and that was more important than some religious texts telling you to have children. If a child came as a result of your union, then you would cherish that but it was not the goal.

For Yeosang, he was conflicted with his sexual urges because of the teachings of the church but he also knew that you were not exactly a godly woman but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew this when he agreed to marry you. He wanted to protect you from the villagers' wrath should things go south but he also felt that by marrying you, it would also offer another layer of protection against the demon.

Surely Hongjoong would become enraged if he learned of the relationship between the two of you but that was a risk Yeosang was willing to take. He’d grown to love you before your wedding and while he hadn’t had the chance to tell you just yet, he still wanted to show you.

The day the final priest showed up was a quiet morning. A flock of chickens had been slaughtered in their coop the night before and the aftermath had been a slew of wails, cries, and calls for action. The last priest to arrive, a man named Mingi, was from the next closest village on the other side of the mountains. He arrived in the middle of the night so Yeosang was already in for the night.

Jonas had offered him shelter and promised to rouse Yeosang in the morning which Yeosang would come to be eternally grateful for as he was deep in the throes of passion with you, tangled in the sheets as he made love to you again and again.

The next morning, Yeosang finally met with him to explain the situation and introduce him to the other priests. Mingi was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man with an interesting history with witches. Yeosang had asked you before leaving to prepare a dinner large enough for all the priests so you planned to go foraging, stopping by your parent’s house to meet with your mother who agreed to go with you.

As you walked into the forest not too far from the village, you found the small section where you usually collected mushrooms from.

“How is married life?” your mother asked as you knelt down to start unearthing the mushrooms. “It is good,” you replied as you worked, handing her the mushrooms to put in the sack. “And how is your husband treating you?”

You looked up at her to see that she had a knowing look on her face. “He’s wonderful,” you answered truthfully. You handed her a few more mushrooms before getting up to move to another section, searching for more.

“And will we be expecting any new additions to the village soon?”

You glanced up at her, taking note of her smile before a smile spread over your face and you turned away in an attempt to hide it from your mother. “Y/N! Don’t you try to hide it from me!” your mother whispered, gently hitting you with the linen sack.

“We’re not trying exactly,” you explained as you dug up mushrooms. “We’re just… enjoying the marital bed,” you continued. “If a child comes from our… activities, we will gladly welcome it. Right now, Yeosang’s focus is the demon,” you added.

Your mother stepped forward and knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “Becoming a mother is the greatest honor God can bestow upon you, Y/N,” she said gently. “It is your duty to give your husband children.” You nodded and looked up. “I know,” you answered. “I will welcome one if it comes but if one doesn’t…” you trailed off as a high pitched whistle rang out.

You turned to look around, noticing how the forest seemed to grow darker around you. Your mother stood without a word, looking into the trees, a look of dread and horror etched on her face. “Mother?” you asked, getting to your feet.

“Run,” your mother whispered, not taking her eyes off a particular spot in the trees. “Mama?” you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “RUN!” she screamed, pushing you away. You fell back from the force and looked over in time to see a dark smoke billow out from the trees, heading for you and your mother.

You watched in horror as the smoke started to envelope your mother and she turned to look at you one final time. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she said, her voice panicked as the smoke shrouded her. “Run and don’t look back!”

Before you could get to your feet, the smoke turned black, obscuring your mother from view and her anguished screams of pain filled the air, sending the birds in the trees into a flight, squawking as they did.

When the smoke dissipated, all that remained of your mother was a charred, skeletal corpse. You heard a twig snap and turned your head to see a black, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes watching you with a wide, crooked grin full of sharp teeth.

Your breathing came in heavy pants as you tried to scramble backwards, the figure floating towards you. As it drew closer, you could see the face come into view and let out a whimper of fear to see Hongjoong staring back at you, his skin blackened and cracked.

“Run little lamb,” he said in a deep, demonic voice. Before you could act, he lunged forward and you let out a scream, sitting upright. There was a shuffling from the other room and the door opened. You turned, cowering away as a figure entered the room and rushed over to the bed where you lay.

“Shh, shh,” a familiar voice said and you looked up as Yeosang sat down, taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he added. “I’m here.” He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as you calmed down. “Wh-what happened?” you asked.

Yeosang pulled back and turned to look at the door where your mother stood, a wet cloth in her hand and worried look on her face. “You fainted,” she said without hesitation. You looked from her to Yeosang and back. “When?”

Your mother stepped forward. “When we went into the forest to get mushrooms. You were digging some up and took ill, fainting out on the ground.” You stared at her, trying to wrack your brain but all you could recall was the horrid dream you’d had.

‘It was a dream, right?’

You looked up at Yeosang who gently took your face in his hands, caressing the apple of your cheeks. “It’s all right, love,” he said softly. “Just take it slow,” he added as you pushed his hands away and attempted to sit up.

“Have you been feeling faint or taken ill in the mornings lately?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You shook your head as you looked at her, watching her exchange looks with your husband. “What is going on?” you demanded.

“Your mother thinks — ” Yeosang started but your mother interrupted him, stepping forward to speak over your husband. “You might be with child,” she announced. You stared at her in stunned silence before turning your gaze to Yeosang who sighed and looked back at you.

“It’s highly possible,” he admitted, caressing your cheek with one hand and taking your hand with the other. ‘With child? Now?’ You fell silent as your mother and husband both talked at the same time until you finally snapped. “How can we know for sure?” you asked.

Both fell silent, looking at you. “How can we know for sure that I am with child?” Yeosang turned to your mother who hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking. “There are ways to check,” she admitted. “Specific… test we can perform.”

Yeosang glanced at you before speaking to your mother. “What sort of tests?” he asked. Your mother hesitated, wringing the cloth in her hand nervously. “Well, the barley and wheat test,” she said softly. “She would need to urinate on barley and wheat seeds over the course of several days. If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.”

“And if neither sprout?” you asked, breaking your silence. “Then you are not with child,” your mother answered. You saw Yeosang’s shoulders visibly relax and he turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “It’s worth a try,” he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nodded in agreement.

“Just to be sure,” you stated to which both your mother and Yeosang nodded.

The next day, Yeosang managed to secure the seeds and buried them behind the house, marking their placement so you would be able to find them even at night. Each time you went out to do your business, your cheeks burned, although you knew no one was watching.

And each time, you returned to the house feeling more embarrassed than before and returned to the bedroom. Over the next few days, you continued to go outside to urinate over the spot where the seeds had been planted and your mother came by to help you with your daily chores. She insisted you rested and while she did your tasks before leaving to head home and prepare dinner for your father.

You ignored Yeosang’s insistence to stay in bed and got up to finish dinner. As you were checking the potatoes in the stew, there was a knock on the door. Yeosang answered it and you kept your head down as he let the visiting priests enter the house. It went from two to seven and soon your modest house was crowded.

Thankfully, there were extra chairs for the table in the second bedroom and Yeosang had the foresight to pull them out before and set the table up in the living room. He cleared his throat and crossed the living room to peer into the kitchen where you stood by the hearth.

“They’re here,” he said softly and beckoned you over. You shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s alright,” you said softly, waving your hand. “I’ll just serve them dinner and stay in here while you meet with them.” Yeosang glanced back before entering the kitchen and crossed the room to where you stood. He placed a hand on your waist, the other moving to tilt your head back to look at him. “I invited them here to meet you,” he explained.

“They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him. “They do?” Yeosang nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning into nuzzle his nose against yours in a display of affection before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So come out here and meet them, love.”

You placed the wooden ladle down, wiping your hands and smoothing down your apron. Yeosang took your hand and led you towards the door and into the living room. There were five men sitting around the table, a couple of them chatting amongst themselves.

When you entered with Yeosang, they all looked up in mild surprise. Your cheeks grew warm under their gazes as they watched you with your husband. “These are the visiting priests from the nearby villages,” Yeosang explained, gesturing at the group.

He gestured at the closest one, a man with cat-like eyes and broad shoulders. Even sitting down, you could tell this man was tall. He had hair like fire, a yellow that faded into fiery orange at the ends. “This is Song Mingi, he knows a lot about witches and sorcerers.”

Mingi nodded his head, bowing in a sign of respect, a gesture you returned. Next to him was a man who despite the thick black robes he wore you could tell was muscular and strong. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and gave you a small smile when your eyes met. “Choi Jongho, the youngest of his order and has performed a record number of exorcisms.”

Beside Jongho was a much slimmer looking man with bright red hair that took you by surprise. “Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, as your gaze passed over him. “He travels the countryside with his partner,” he explained, gesturing to the man sitting on the other side of Wooyoung. You nodded and felt your cheeks burn as Wooyoung smiled and sent you a wink. The man beside him, his partner, elbowed him harshly.

Either your husband didn’t notice or chose not to address the wink, for he moved on. “Choi San,” he said and the man who had elbowed Wooyoung gave you a warm smile, his black hair shorter than Mingi’s but cut the same as Wooyoung’s and pushed back off his forehead.

“San is a demon hunter,” Yeosang explained. Sitting beside San was the last priest. “This is Jeong Yunho,” Yeosang introduced. “He has experience performing exorcisms and banishing rituals. He was the first to arrive,” Yeosang said, reminding you of the morning after your wedding night.

You smiled politely, bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you, Misses,” Yunho said politely with a sweet smile. “This is Y/N,” Yeosang said, gesturing towards you. “My wife.”

There was a low chorus of greetings passed around by your guests and you returned them with as much politeness and grace as you could muster. You looked up at Yeosang and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll go get the stew,” you explained.

“Let me help,” he said, turning to follow but you waved your hand, urging him to take his seat. The last thing you wanted was him to appear as anything other than the man of the house before your visitors and so you returned to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth to protect your hand as you grabbed the handle of the hot pot hanging over the hearth and the wooden ladle.

Your mother had already set the table, bowls, plates, and cups set for each person. Yeosang had filled the cups and pieces of bread were already set on the plates as you moved to place the pot on the table. It was much heavier than you initially thought, as you made more than you usually did.

Noticing your struggle, Mingi got up to help you and despite your protests, he took the heavy pot and set it on the table. You thanked him profusely and started to spoon a helping of stew into each bowl, serving your husband after each guest and before picking up the now much lighter pot.

“What about you?” you heard a voice ask and turned to find six pairs of eyes on you. With a smile you bowed your head. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you answered. “I will just eat in the kitchen and stay out of your way.” Yeosang’s expression fell but as he moved to get up, Wooyoung beat him to it, rounding the table and grabbing the pot from you.

You followed him, trying to take it back but he gently nudged you back and spooned a helping into the seventh bowl before setting the pot in the middle of the table, took your hand and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the spot between your husband and San.

“Sit,” he simply said and moved back to his own seat. You glanced around at the table before your eyes settled on your husband and he nodded towards the chair beside him. “The cook should not be confined to the kitchen,” San added, gesturing for you to sit and after a moment, you took your seat, thanking them as Yeosang tried to fill your cup but you declined.

The smell of the ale was enough to make your stomach churn and you didn’t want to get sick before you ate. You stared at the stew while those around you ate and enjoyed the meal. You grabbed the wooden spoon next to your bowl but as you stared at the meat and potatoes, you couldn’t fathom even taking a bite, your stomach churning as the mere thought of eating made you sick beyond belief.

“Yeosang tells us you’re familiar with the demon,” a voice drew you out of your stupor and you looked up, meeting the gaze of Yunho who sat across from you. You glanced to your left, where your husband sat. He looked up to meet your gaze and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can tell them. Whatever is said here will not leave this house.”

You set the spoon down and took a deep breath before starting.

“I am. In life, he was my…” you trailed off, glancing at Yeosang, uncertain of how to continue. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Just tell them.” You glanced back at Yunho, who was watching you curiously. “He was my previous lover,” you finally said.

A silence fell over the table. “Your lover?” San asked from your right. You turned him and nodded. “Yes,” you answered. “He lived in a cabin in the forest by himself. His great grandfather built the cabin for his pregnant wife and all generations of Hongjoong’s family have lived there. It’s where Hongjoong was born.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the community, then?” Mingi asked, to which you shook your head. “No,” you replied. “He lived outside our community, outside our… rules.” Mingi sat back, arms crossed over his chest and you noticed he’d already finished his bowl.

“If you’re still hungry, please,” you added, gesturing to the pot with a smile. A small smile spread over Mingi’s face before he thanked you and helped himself to more stew. “Please,” San said. “Continue.”

You went on, explaining how you met Hongjoong when you were around 12 years old and that the two of you never really interacted except when he came to the village with his family. You went on to tell them how you met again when he was 17 and his mother had just passed and then again when he was 18 and his father passed, leaving him alone.

You explained the story of your friendship that grew into romance and how you fell in love with Hongjoong. As you told the story, you could see various looks on the faces of your guests ranging from concentration to adoration. It occurred to you that this was the first time you were telling this story in front of Yeosang and he was listening with rapt attention.

As you concluded that part of the story, Jongho spoke up.

“How did he become a demon? Surely someone who lived as you have described doesn’t just turn into a demon overnight,” he said. He’d removed his robe at some point and under it he wore a black fitted jacket and black pants.

You shook your head. “I don’t pretend to know the details,” you said softly. “He explained to me what he could remember. He said he remembered suffocating and being surrounded by darkness. He also recalled an intense burning pain and this awful laughter. He said it felt like he was being tortured for thousands of years and then he came to.”

Wooyoung finally spoke up, his chin resting in his hand. “He woke up in the grave the villagers buried him in and freed himself?” he asked. You turned to him, peering around San, and nodded. “That’s what he said. He broke out of the coffin and clawed his way out of the grave.”

A few sets of eyes turned to look at your husband who confirmed your story. “When Y/N came to after taking ill, she told Jonas and I of this and I was immediately sent to check the grave and it was indeed disturbed. We then had it dug up and found the coffin empty, the top of it caved in,” he added. “We knew then that Hongjoong had risen from his grave.”

“What happened after he got out?” Mingi asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “He must have come straight back to the cabin,” you replied. “I was already there. I ran away from my parents house after…” you hesitated, glancing at Yeosang who gave you a quizzical look. You looked away and continued.

“After my father hit me and told me what he and the other villagers had done. They’d killed Hongjoong.” You could see Yeosang visibly tense next to you but pressed on, deciding not to address it right then.

“So Hongjoong returned to the cabin and I helped him clean up and we… got intimate,” you said, cheeks burning under the gaze of six priests hanging onto your every word. “The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing but then Hongjoong appeared and I knew it wasn’t a dream. I thought that maybe the universe had sent him back because it wasn’t his time. I thought he’d been given a second chance but then he started to… change.”

“How did he change?” Yunho inquired. You looked up at him. “He started to get… ravenous? I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. But it was like… he couldn’t get enough. Like his appetite couldn’t be satiated.”

“By appetite you mean his sexual desire?” San asked, tilting his head. You refused to meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the table, studying the pattern of the wood grain and nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “He soon started to lose control of himself. Almost like he was slipping and the demon was starting to take over. He would physically change, too. His eyes, his voice, the burn marks on his body.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “One morning, I woke up to find the cabin empty so I went looking for him and found him by the stream in the forest. When I approached, he told me to stay away and when I didn’t listen, he lashed out at me. He ran and I tried to follow but I lost him in the forest so I went back to the cabin and waited for him to return.”

“And did he?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded wordlessly. “But he lost control again and I think this is when the demon finally took hold. He tried to attack me and so I ran back to the village where I ran into Yeosang. Since then, Hongjoong has been terrorizing the village and killing not only the livestock but also the daughters of the men who killed him. I’m the only one left now.”

You concluded your story to silence. Yeosang took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced up, resisting the urge to burst into tears. He gave you a comforting smile as the rest of your guests processed your story. “Thank you for telling us your story,” Yunho finally said.

“Can I ask you something?” San inquired, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “Of course,” Yeosang answered. “If Hongjoong was your lover,” he started, addressing you before looking up at Yeosang. “How did she end up marrying you?”

“Before Hongjoong’s death,” Yeosang started to explain. “Her father had come to me, asking me if I would consider marrying Y/N. His fear with Hongjoong being blamed for the village’s misfortunes, his relationship with Y/N might paint her as a target,” he continued.

“So he wanted to distance his family from that and save their reputation.” You felt your stomach churn as Yeosang spoke. “If it had been anyone else, I would have said no,” Yeosang continued, making you look up at him.

“I said yes because while I wanted to protect Y/N, another part of me had already grown quite fond of her and I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t already love her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you stared at your husband. His eyes met yours and you suddenly understood, words from your wedding night replaying in your head. ‘I’ve always been yours.’

You tore your gaze from his, staring down at your uneaten stew.

“I see,” San answered softly. “So after Hongjoong’s death and Y/N came back,” Wooyoung started only for Yeosang to finish. “When Hongjoong was taken from the church and dragged to the tree, Y/N learned what happened and she ran away. I suppose her father decided that the agreement between us was no longer necessary since she was no longer in the village. No one expected her to come back. When she did, her father tried to reinstate the agreement but Y/N was in no state to marry anyone. She was catatonic, unresponsive —”

“An empty shell,” you interrupted, your voice soft. You could feel six pairs of eyes turn towards you. “What?” you heard Wooyoung ask. “An empty shell,” you repeated, a little louder. “When I came back, I honestly don’t even remember much. I remember running through the woods and I barely remember running into Yeosang and then after that, everything was just a blur. I don’t even know how long I was like that.”

“Sixteen days,” Yeosang answered. He looked up as you turned to look at him. “You were catatonic for thirteen and got sick. You were at death’s door for three days. Sixteen days total.”

A silence fell over the table as you and your husband looked at one another, a moment of understanding passing over you. “And then?” San asked, breaking the silence. Yeosang reluctantly tore his gaze away from you.

“And then, she woke up. She came back from the brink of death. Her mother nursed her back to health and when she was able to stay awake, Jonas and I came to get her account of the events that happened before she came back. She told us everything. Jonas left no stone unturned and you told him everything,” he said, addressing you at the end.

“Truth be told, I don’t think I could have told him everything if you weren’t there,” you admitted. “Jonas terrifies me.”

A look of confusion crossed Yeosang’s face but before he could ask you why, Yunho spoke up. “Now that we know all of this, we need to devise a plan of attack,” he said, earning a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. Yeosang glanced at your bowl and gestured for you to eat before he turned to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with you,” Jongho answered from beside Yunho. “The longer we sit around and do nothing, the more danger the village is in. “The more danger Y/N is in,” San added, looking at you as you finally took a bite of the stew which had since grown cold.

“So what do you suggest?” Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho. “We could always try to exorcize the demon from Hongjoong?” Yunho suggested, turning to look at Yeosang who contemplated. Jongo spoke up again. “If Hongjoong’s soul is still intact, that could work but in exorcizing the demon, he could just be killed.”

“He’s already dead,” Wooyoung reminded him. “We don’t even know if his soul is in his body.”

You set your spoon down, a little harder than you meant to, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as you turned to look at the red-haired man. “His soul is in his body,” you said simply. Wooyoung and San exchanged worried looks before San turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“We know you want to believe that, Y/N, but the chances are —”

“His soul is in his body,” you snapped. “Y/N,” Wooyoung tried to intervene but Yeosang held his hand up. “Let her speak,” he interjected.

“When he died, Hongjoong told me how he fell into darkness and felt like he was tortured for thousands of years,” you said, looking around at each one of the priests. “He also spoke of fire, brimstone, and burning. I think that maybe, his soul was sent to hell and when it came back it wasn’t because of his own determination. It was because something came back with him,” you explained.

“Something not human.”

Several of the priests exchanged worried looks. “You think a demon latched onto his soul and came back with him and is now inhabiting his body?” Yeosang asked, making sure to clarify what you just shared. You nodded slowly. “And I think, if you try to exorcize the demon, it will pull his own soul out as well.”

Yeosang let out a sigh. “That could be possible,” Yunho said softly, looking at Wooyoung who seemed to be deep in thought. “Then an exorcism is off the table,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s no way around that. If a demon is bound to his soul, there’s no way to save him.”

San elbowed Wooyoung before glancing at you. Giving him a warm smile you spoke softly. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know what needs to be done and I know that it’s not the same Hongjoong. There is no going back. Not that I would want to, anyway.”

You glanced at Yeosang whose expressions softened and he took your hand gently. “So then we must banish the demon,” Jongho stated. It wasn’t a question. The rest of the table nodded in agreement before Yunho turned his head to look at Mingi.

“What can you tell us about witches and their connections to demons?”

Mingi looked surprised at being addressed directly and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Witches are thought to be in league with Satan,” he started, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table before him, his fingers interlaced as he stared at his hands. “But that’s only partially true. Just as there is light and dark in the world, this dichotomy exists in humans and by extension, witches.”

Mingi cleared his throat before continuing.

“There are light witches, those who use their magic and powers for the good of humanity. They tend to draw their powers from nature and the world around them. It is a good and pure form of magic. They use it for growing and healing. Dark witches, on the other hand, draw their power from a darker source, usually from making a deal with a demon or by blood sacrifices. The most common form of sacrifice is that of a child or infant,” he continued.

“But animal sacrifices can also be made in lieu of a human.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, recalling all the livestock that had been killed prior to Hongjoong’s death and the killings that continued. Whether or not the new ones were the work of the true witch or Hongjoong, you couldn’t be sure.

“The witch will offer a blood sacrifice to a summoned demon in exchange for powers far beyond the natural world. These powers can cause a wide variety of misfortunes should the witch place a curse. Crops can go bad, people can become sick, and demons can be summoned,” Mingi added.

“So Hongjoong was not one of these?” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang who nodded. “He was not,” you answered. “He used his magic for healing and growing. He had gardens that he used his magic on. Or whenever he found a hurt animal, he would heal it. He never consorted with the devil or killed anything unless it was for food.”

San nodded, accepting your answer before returning his attention to Mingi. “So then why would Hongjoong come back as a demon?” he asked. Mingi inhaled slowly before answering. “There are a number of reasons. Perhaps the villagers turning on him was part of the dark witch’s plan. Perhaps a curse was placed to make the villagers do so. If Hongjoong had a curse on him, it would explain why he not only came back but why his soul went to hell and a demon latched onto him. Perhaps…” Mingi trailed off, his focus shifting to you.

The others turned to follow his gaze as your eyes widened in realization.

“It was Hongjoong…” you whispered. Yeosang placed a hand on your back, leaning in closer. “Love? What is it?”

You looked back at Mingi. “It was Hongjoong!” you repeated louder. “Hongjoong was the human sacrifice!”

A look of realization drew over the faces of all six priests. “The witch used the animal sacrifices to create disturbances, turning the villagers against the one they perceived to be a threat to their lives,” Mingi explained sitting up. “The witch used the villagers’ hatred for Hongjoong against him, making them kill him for them to complete some kind of sacrificial ritual.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks as Yunho’s lips parted in shock. “And the ritual is now complete,” Jongho said softly as he looked at the table. “But what was the goal?” Yeosang asked, looking around. “What could the witch possibly gain by doing this?”

The wheels in your head were turning and you stood up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table and making a few of the priests jump. “The demon!” you all but shouted. “What if the demon is one the dark witch made a pact with?” Mingi’s eyes narrowed, brows knitting together until it clicked for him.

“The demon needed a body,” Mingi said quickly. “They made a pact. The witch would get their powers if they provided a human sacrifice in the form of a human body for them to inhabit! A binding ritual, of course!” Mingi hissed, hitting the table with his fist.

“A binding ritual?” Yeosang asked. “Is there any way to undo that?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Yunho also shook his head. “No,” he answered. “The only thing that can be done is to banish the demon.” Yeosang nodded, taking your hand without giving you a glance. “And how do we do that?” he asked.

“With a demon who has inhabited the body of a dead person, there’s only one way,” Yunho explained. “Bind the body of the possessed with a ritual, perform a banishing ritual and —” he stopped, turning his gaze towards you. “And removing the head of the possessed.”

You didn’t need to look up to know that all eyes were on you. “But before we get to any of that,” Wooyoung interjected. “We must first draw him out.” San nodded as his partner spoke. “And exactly how do we do that?” Yeosang asked, looking from San to Wooyoung.

“By offering the demon the thing it wants most,” Yunho answered.

You looked up, noticing the eyes that fell on you once more.

“No.”

You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not using my wife as bait.”

You turned your body to face him and reached out to place your hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you. “We don’t have a choice,” you told him. “If we’re going to save the people of this village, we have to do this.”

“No!” Yeosang shouted, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table. You threw an apologetic glance at the table and got up, following Yeosang to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you. He stood by the hearth, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the fire.

You approached him slowly, taking note of the way he tried to hide his face from you. “Yeosang,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He shook his head, turning away from you. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. You grabbed his arm and turned him to face you.

His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’m not putting you in danger,” he finally said, shaking his head. You took his face in your hands and held him still. “If we don’t do something, the village will be in danger. Hongjoong will not stop until he’s killed or has killed me.”

Yeosang pulled you closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know it’s terrifying,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “But with six priests protecting me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Yeosang tightened his hold, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “You won’t,” you replied, stroking his hair gently. “We’re going to overcome this,” you continued. “Hongjoong must be stopped and if this is the only way to do so, I will gladly help.”

Yeosang pulled back, cheeks wet to look at you through watery eyes. “And what if you do die?” he asked. “What then?” You held his face carefully as you looked into his eyes. “Then it will have been to protect the people of this village and you. I can die knowing I tried my best.”

Yeosang’s hands moved, taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.” You pulled a hand free and pressed your fingers to his lips, shushing him gently. “We don’t even know for certain if I’ll die. Let’s talk with the others and I’m sure we can come up with a plan that keeps me safe while also drawing Hongjoong out, okay?”

Yeosang fell silent, cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Okay,” he finally said hoarsely. You pulled him into a kiss, taking care to wipe away his tears. “I’m going to be fine, darling,” you said softly.

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer when a distant scream rang out. His expression shifted in an instant and he turned his head in the direction of the scream. “What was that?” you asked softly. Yeosang took your hand and led you back to the living room where the priests had gotten up from the table and walked over to the door.

Mingi opened it and stood in the doorway, peering out into the darkness. Another scream rang out followed by a chorus of yells. “A house is on fire!” he announced, taking off into the night. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed as Yunho got up from the table and walked over quickly.

You followed your husband to the door and as you stared into the distance you realized the house the third from the forest was ablaze. Your heart sank as your stomach churned. “That’s my parents’ house!” you gasped, trying to run out into the night but Yeosang grabbed you and pulled you back into the house. “No!” he said as he shut the door.

You tried to fight against him but he held you still. “Hongjoong could be out there. Stay inside this house and do not come out for anything. I will go.” You tried to protest but he held your face, staring into your eyes. “Please, Y/N. Please just stay here.”

You stared at him for a moment and decided he was right, conceding. “Fine,” you answered. “But please hurry! Make sure my parents are alright!” Yeosang pressed a kiss to your lips before he rushed the door, throwing it open and running outside. You moved to the door, peering out before shutting it and stepping back towards the table.

Footsteps pounded against the ground as Yeosang followed the others towards your parents house. The rest of the village had gathered, some shouting for help while others helped hold people back at a safe distance. Yeosang’s eyes scanned the crowd and relief washed over him as he saw your parents in the crowd, staring up at the house that was now engulfed in flames.

Yeosang squeezed through the crowd as he made his way over. Your mother’s tear stained face turned as he approached and she could only cry softly while your father stared up at the blaze with a dumbfounded look. “Are you alright?” Yeosang asked softly.

Your mother nodded. “We made it out okay,” she admitted. “But…” she looked up at the inferno. “We’ve lost everything.” Yeosang felt his stomach churn. He had an extra room in his house, he could offer it to your parents but he would of course wish to speak to you before he made any decisions as it was as much your house as it was his.

Before he could say anything, one of the neighbors nearby moved, wrapping an arm around your mother’s shoulders. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for the time being. We have plenty of room.” Your mother thanked her profusely and Yeosang sent the woman a knowing look, thanking her silently.

Yeosang turned and walked back to where the priests were huddled, Yunho and Mingi breathing heavily while Wooyoung and San were whispering to one another and Jongho studied the burning house. Yeosang noticed the smears of soot on both Yunho and Mingi, asking what happened.

“The burst into the house,” Jongho answered without taking his eyes off the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. “They were able to get your in-law’s out along with some of their important artifacts…” Yunho gave Jongho a peculiar look.

“Artifacts,” he muttered as he stood up straight, waving Mingi away as the latter attempted to brush soot off his clothes, and moved towards Yeosang. “The fire started upstairs,” Yunho said in a low voice. “When we went in, it was just the entire upstairs that was in flames.”

Yeosang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Upstairs?” he whispered. “Seems odd, does it not?” Yunho asked, looking from the fire to Yeosang. “For a fire to start upstairs and move down?” Yeosang nodded, turning to look at the house. “Very odd indeed.”

After the crowd dispersed with only a few remaining behind to make sure the fire didn’t spread, Yeosang walked with the priests back towards the church, bidding them goodnight before returning to his own home.

He turned the knob, exhaustion taking over his mind as he opened the door. He knew you were waiting for news and he would give it to you without hesitation. As he entered, he saw you sitting at the table. You looked up as he entered.

“Are my parents okay?” you asked as Yeosang closed the door behind Yunho and turned to you. “Yes,” he answered. “They’re staying with a neighbor. They’re fine, just in shock.” Yeosang walked over to the table and took a seat, sighing as you sat down next to him.

“What happened?” you inquired. Yeosang raised his head and met your gaze. “I think the demon set fire to your house in an attempt to lure you out,” he said. You stared at him, a look of confusion etched onto your face. “But I don’t live there anymore,” you replied.

Yeosang nodded and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he knows that,” he explained. “Hongjoong must have thought you were still at your parents’ house which means he doesn’t know you’ve left or that we’re married.” You fell silent, looking down at the table before back up at your husband.

“You could have easily been in that house,” he continued. “And the moment you left the house to escape the fire, he would have snatched you.” You swallowed thickly. “You cannot let your guard down until he has been dealt with.” You nodded, taking Yeosang’s hand.

“So we will deal with him. Let me join this plan. Yeosang pulled his hand from yours, getting up from his seat, and started to walk towards the kitchen. You got up, following him. “Y/N, no,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

You followed him as he entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed to remove his boots. “It will be dangerous for me until he’s gone,” you answered. “Until he is dead, I will always be in danger. What if he learns that I am here? How long until he tries to lure me out of the house and kill me?”

Yeosang looked up at you, exhaustion present on his face. You placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, resting his head against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding your close. “What if I’m pregnant?” you whispered.

Yeosang opened his eyes, leaning back to look up at you.

“You think he would spare me? Never. We’re not just doing this for the village,” you continued. “We’re doing this for us. For our future.” You placed a hand on Yeosang’s chest, pushing him back against the mattress as you climbed onto the bed and over him.

“I want a future with you, Yeosang,” you continued, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He tried to follow as you pulled back. “I want to have your children,” you added, kissing him again. “But we have to safeguard our future and the only way to do that is to kill the demon.”

Yeosang placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a much more passionate kiss before rolling you onto your back and pinning you underneath him. “If we do this,” he said once he broke apart from you. “Then you have to promise me that no matter what, you will listen to and do as I say.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, thumb tracing over the red mark near his eye.

“Of course,” you replied. “Promise me, Y/N,” Yeosang said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as you pressed a delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I promise,” you whispered, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Say all of it,” Yeosang ordered, his hand sliding down your neck to your chest, pausing before sliding down past your navel and pulling your skirt up slowly.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as his hand ducked under your skirt to find your already slick center. “Say that you will do everything I say.” You let out a small gasp as his fingers started to work your clit slowly.

“I—I will! I will listen to you and do whatever you say,” you replied, thighs spreading as Yeosang’s fingers dipped lower, finding your hole and gliding into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. “I promise!” you concluded, back arching as he curled his fingers.

Yeosang wasted no time, peeling your clothes off one layer at a time until he had you bare under him, removing his own shirt and pants before moving between your hips. He was in no mood for lengthy foreplay as he guided the head of his cock to your aching hole and pushed into you, slowly, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to rock into you, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside you, your nails scratching at his back as moans slipped past your lips, mixing with Yeosang’s name like a mantra.

“Yeosang, I—” you started but he pressed his fingers against your lips. “It’s okay,” he said breathily. “I know. Just let go for me, sweetheart. Give into it.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you allowed the feeling of your physical connection take over, a warm sensation building inside you. You felt a prickling in the corners of your eyes as tears threatened to spill.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears to look up at your husband only to find him already looking at you, eyes searching your face. He slowed his motions, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, burying your face in his neck. “I’m fine,” you sobbed softly. “Please, don’t stop.” Yeosang hesitated, stilling inside you as you cried softly.

Instead of resuming, he held you, arms secure as he let you cry. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “Let it out.” Your cries grew harder, muffled by his shoulder as he rolled you both onto your sides and stroked up and down your spine soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, pulling back and trying to wipe your tears away but he beat you to it, taking your face in his hands. He carefully wiped your cheeks and under your eyes before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m alright,” you said softly, sniffling. “I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Yeosang asked, letting out a soft chuckle when you nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and find you looking at me like that,” you replied. Yeosang stroked your cheek gently, a smile on his face. “Like what?” he asked.

“With so much… Love,” you answered. Yeosang let out another low chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again. “Well, why wouldn’t I look at you like that?” he asked, rolling the two of you over so you were on your back against the mattress.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a moan came out as you felt him push back into you, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up again until he was thrusting into you just as he was before your emotional outburst, leaving you breathless.

“M-more,” you mumbled. “More?” Yeosang asked, breathlessly as he stared down at you. You nodded quickly. “I can take it. H-harder.” Yeosang let out a sound that you could have mistaken for a laugh but all the same, he obliged you, thrusting into you hard but at the same pace as before.

Your walls contracted around him as your moans raised in pitch, bordering on cries of pleasure. Yeosang slid an arm under you, cradling your head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” he admitted.

You moved quickly, pushing him as you rolled him over, settling on top of him without his cock slipping out of you. You took over, keeping the same pace as his hands moved to your thighs. You resisted the urge to giggle as Yeosang let out a string of curses as your hips rose and fell, his cock sinking into your cunt repeatedly.

“That’s not very becoming of a priest,” you joked, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. You felt one of his hands move up your back before grabbing the back of your neck. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, pulling you in for a passionate but sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling his own moans of pleasure.

You broke the kiss after a moment, needing to breathe, and rested your forehead against his as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up to meet you, matching your pace. The sudden intense movement had you gasping, fingers curling into the sheets under your husband as your climax drew closer and closer, rapidly

You felt him tremble under you, signaling he was close to his own climax. Your walls fluttered around him as he let out another slew of curses, ranging from “oh fuck” and “shit.” Praises slipped out of his mouth between moans of your name. Your head rested against his shoulder, letting him take over and guide your hips down to meet his as he thrust into you passionately.

“Oh fuck, I love you,” he gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the bed creaking under your bodies. His confession spurred you on, pushing you over the edge of passion and you came unexpectedly with a whine, fingers curling into his hair as his hips continued to move, driving his cock repeatedly into you as he chased his own high. “I love you, too,” you panted, pulling back to look down at him, meeting his gaze. “So, so much,” you added.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as his orgasm rolled over him, his hot cum filling you as his hips thrusted a few more times, making sure he emptied everything into you. “I love you so much, Yeosang,” you repeated, pulling him into a messy kiss, your tongues dancing together. He pulled back slightly, caressing your cheek. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” he whispered. You felt a small sob build in your chest but held it back.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Yeosang continued. “I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my entire world.” You leaned down into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder and let out a soft cry.

Yeosang rolled onto his side, lowering you to the mattress. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry,” Yeosang whispered, gently lifting your head. “They’re not tears of sadness,” you admitted as he wiped said tears from your cheeks. “They’re tears of—”

“Joy?” Yeosang asked, his expression softening as he caressed your cheek. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “When you saved my life,” you started. “And stayed with me while I was on the brink of death, I realized something,” you said softly.

“What?” Yeosang asked, eyes studying your face. You looked up to meet his gaze. “That I’ve loved you for some time,” you replied. “I just didn’t realize it because I was so deeply connected to Hongjoong but there was always love in my heart for you.”

Yeosang couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “It just took me almost dying to see it,” you added with a dry laugh. “I have a confession of my own to make,” Yeosang said softly, drawing your attention as he continued to stroke your cheek.

“I’ve loved you since before everything that has happened. Since…” he trailed off, hesitating under your curious gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “Since before Hongjoong’s death.”

A silence fell over the two of you and Yeosang feared he might have crossed a line but when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, a smile crept onto your face. “I guess that makes two of us, then,” you whispered.

The following morning, you woke up early, getting dressed in silence as Yeosang lay tangled in the sheets. You exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and started to get started, making breakfast. After last night, you didn’t feel like going out to gather eggs or cook anything that would take too much time. You would rather just make something simple and get started on the day.

Today, Yeosang and the visiting priests were going to inform the village of the truth about the demon and Hongjoong’s return. The entire village was already aware of the demon’s existence but none knew that it was Hongjoong.

You heard the door behind you open and soft footsteps make their way towards you until you felt arms enveloping you as Yeosang wrapped you in his warm embrace. “I thought we might sleep in,” he murmured in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you admitted as you stirred the contents of the pot. “So I thought I would just get up and start the day.” Yeosang hummed as he slowly started to sway, making you sway as well.

You placed a hand over your stomach as a nauseous feeling bubbled up. Yeosang noticed, placing his hand over yours. “Have you checked the seeds?” he asked softly to which you shook your head. “I’ve had more pressing matters,” you replied.

Yeosang pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll go check,” he whispered, pulling away and taking with him the warmth. You heard him move through the house, the front door opening and closing. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to check the seeds, for fear that one of them was growing which would mean you were pregnant and that was something you didn’t need at the moment.

You had enough going on.

Yeosang returned a couple moments later, shutting the door slowly and walked into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe, a look of shock on his face. You looked back at him, your expression morphing as you feared the worst. “What is it?” you asked.

Yeosang looked up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was all you needed to see for your heart to sink into your stomach. “No,” you whispered. Yeosang looked down and it was then you realized he had something in his hand. “What is that?” you whispered. He stood up straight and walked over, something clenched in his fist.

He looked up at you, a look somewhere between an apology and concern etched onto his face. “I know this is the last thing you need, but…” he said as he held out his closed fist. Your eyes traveled down to his hand as he opened it. Lying in his palm was a small seed with a tiny stalk sprouting from it.

Your mother’s voice popped into your head. ‘If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.’ You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked up to meet Yeosang’s gaze.

“No. We… this can’t be happening…” you said, your breathing bordering on hyperventilating. Yeosang set the sprout onto the table and pulled you into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. I know the timing is wrong,” he continued. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “Look at me,” Yeosang said softly, tilting your head up. “We’ll face the things in front of us and once we’ve dealt with it, how about we leave? Go somewhere new and start over?” he asked. A small smile crept over your face.

“Really?” you asked quietly. Yeosang nodded, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Of course,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you want. Another village, a larger town, the mountains, the sea,” he said, listing off different locations. “Wherever you want, my love, that’s where we’ll go. Start a new life for us and for them,” he added, moving a hand to your belly.

“For us.”

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you left the house with Yeosang, heading for the church to attend the meeting. Upon entering, you followed Yeosang to the front where the rest of the priests were already sitting, talking amongst themselves. As you approached, San and Wooyoung gave you warm smiles and greeted you.

Yeosang guided you to sit next to Yunho, leaving one seat for him. Instead of taking it right away, he excused himself to go find Jonas. “You look different this morning,” Yunho said softly. You turned to look at him and noticed the others looking at you.

“Do I?” you asked to which not only Yunho nodded, but so did Wooyoung, San, and Mingi. “Much different,” San noted as he exchanged a glance with Wooyoung. You hesitated to answer, wondering if they could tell the difference was due to you finding out about the child you were carrying.

Before you could answer, Yeosang returned with Jonas. Your husband gave you a smile as he followed the elder minister to the doors to open them and allow the villagers in. While Yeosang was preoccupied, Yunho glanced at the others before turning to you and lowering his voice. “It’s a good type of different,” he whispered before leaning up and giving you a smile before turning to speak to San next to him as the rows behind you filled with villagers.

Yeosang returned, taking his seat beside you and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You pulled your hand from his, locking your arm with his instead, giving you a sense of stability as you leaned into his side. Yeosang made no attempt to move for sake of propriety. He did not care what the others thought. All that mattered to him was your happiness and safety.

The villagers could think what they liked. You were his wife.

As the villagers took their seats, you looked around, noticing your parents a few rows back and sent them a smile, one they returned. Despite everything that had happened to them, you were glad they were still alive and safe.

The doors at the front of the church closed and Jonas walked down the middle aisle towards the stage, nodding at the members as he passed before he finally reached the pulpit and turned to face the congregation.

“I’ve called this meeting because Pastor Kang has requested to be able to speak with all of you on an urgent matter related to the demon plaguing our village,” he started. He turned his gaze to Yeosang and nodded, stepping down. Your husband stood up and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he walked up, stepping up to the pulpit.

“As you all already know, a demon has been terrorizing the village since the death of Hongjoong,” he started, ignoring the hisses at the mention of the name. “You might also be aware that I sent word to neighboring villages, asking for the help from their clergy and as a result, five priests have come to help conduct an investigation as well as potentially help banish the demon.”

Yeosang stopped, looking towards the front row as whispers rang out behind you. “We have come to learn after carefully investigating that the demon who haunts our village is Hongjoong, returned from the grave.”

There were several gasps and a new rush of whispers before Yeosang called for attention. “To explain further, I invite Pastor Jeong up here. He has experience with banishing demons and investigating their origins,” Yeosang said, gesturing at Yunho seat beside you. Yunho got up as Yeosang stepped down and returned to his seat.

Yunho took his place and murmured a greeting before starting his explanation.

“When Hongjoong was killed, his soul was sent to Hell,” he started. “Because he was a witch!” someone said and Yunho narrowed his eyes at the person who spoke. “No,” Yunho replied. “Not because he was a witch,” he continued. “But because the real witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for power.”

The congregation fell silent as Yunho’s words hung in the air. “I do not presume to know everything there was to know about Hongjoong, only what I’ve been told by someone who knew him very, very well,” he added, eyes glancing at you and giving you a warm smile.

“Nor do I pretend to know anything about witches or witchcraft as that is not my area of expertise and I will let Pastor Song speak on that in due time,” he continued. “What I know is that the demon the witch made a deal with was offered Hongjoong as a sacrifice and it took that. When Hongjoong was killed, the pact forced his soul to Hell where the demon latched onto him and came back to inhabit his body. This was the demon’s goal. It wanted a human body to inhabit so it could walk this Earth.”

You felt a chill run up your spine and shivered. Yeosang immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “The only reason Hongjoong’s soul was allowed to even return in the first place is because of something known as a witch’s box. Again this is not my area of knowledge and I will let Mingi explain when it is his turn to speak, but what I do know is that by creating one of these boxes, it connects a witch’s soul to the earth so if they were to die by accident, they could come back. It is a means to cheat death, so to speak.”

“The demon took advantage of this, which was probably communicated by the real culprit who summoned the demon,” Yunho pressed on. “We believe that there is another witch, the one responsible for the misfortunes that have befallen your village. This witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for more power and offered Hongjoong’s soul and body in exchange of their own, since they likely knew Hongjoong was also a witch.”

“Who is the other witch?” a voice called out. “We do not know,” Yunho answered. “We don’t have that information yet.” This answer caused an uproar of discourse from the congregation. “How can you not know?!” one person shouted. Yunho looked overwhelmed by the sudden chorus of questions being hurled at him.

Yeosang stood up and turned to the crowd. “Dealing with the demon is much more important than dealing with the witch,” he said earnestly. “In time, we will uncover the true identity of this witch and see that they are brought to justice for their actions,” Yeosang said calmly.

“Who’s the witch!?”

“It could be any one of us!”

“It’s Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Yeosang in a panic as a look of pure anger crossed over his face. Before he could say anything, Jongho stood up, crossing to the pulpit, and motioned for Yunho to step down before stepping up.

“Pointing blame without any evidence to back up your claim will not only not help, but it will paint you as suspicious,” he sat calmly and clearly in a voice you had not expected to come from him. “Y/N is being actively pursued by the demon as it wants to kill her. She cannot possibly be the other witch. One more outburst of the sort and I will start taking names for a list of suspects.”

He then stepped down and returned to his seat as Yunho stepped up once more. Yeosang turned his gaze to Jongho and the two shared a look of understanding before he sat back down beside you, taking your arm in his as Yunho continued.

“As I was saying,” he started. “And as Pastor Kang has stated, we must deal with the demon first. This concludes what I know and I will now pass the torch, so to speak, to Pastor Song.” Yunho stepped down and walked back to his seat between you and San as Mingi got up and walked to the pulpit.

You watched as he paused briefly, looking at Jonas sitting against the back wall. He tilted his head as if he was studying the elder minister for a moment before he finally turned and stepped up into the pulpit to speak.

“Witchcraft,” he started. “Is not at all what you think it is. There are many types of magic in this world. The witchcraft of this witch that has been plaguing your village is what is known as dark magic. It is used to harm nature and people. It relies on blood sacrifices to work. Most dark witches use these sacrifices to make deals with demons in exchange for more power.”

“Light witches on the other hand,” he continued. “Rely on the natural world to create magic. They use their powers to heal and grow things. Which means,” Mingi said, pausing to look around at the villagers. “You killed the wrong witch.”

There was a silence that fell over the congregations before Mingi continued to speak.

“Hongjoong was a light witch, using his magic for good and the dark witch took advantage of this to use him as a bargaining chip to gain powers from the demonic entity that now inhabits Hongjoong’s body,” he added, taking his spectacles off.

“This dark witch used smaller animal sacrifices to create curses and disturbances within the village, turning you all against Hongjoong so you might eventually rise up and make him pay for the crimes you perceived as his. By killing Hongjoong, you completed the human sacrifice necessary for the dark witch’s deal to work. Giving the demon what it wanted and by extension, giving the witch what they wanted.”

He fell silent as he turned to look back at Jonas. You couldn’t understand the look between them but the way Jonas looked at Mingi made you feel uncomfortable, almost as if he was… mad at him for what he was saying. Jonas looked past Mingi, meeting your gaze and for the briefest moment, you could have sworn his eyes changed.

You let out the smallest of gasps, barely even audible but Yeosang heard you, as did Yunho. Your husband turned, leaning over to look at your face. “Love?” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You nodded slowly, eyes wide as you continued to hold Jonas’ gaze, afraid if you looked away, you would forget everything.

Jonas was the first to look away as Mingi stepped back, apparently having been done speaking. Next up was San and Wooyoung. Mingi returned to his seat beside Jongho and you kept your eyes on Jonas as the priest and demon hunter spoke, laying out their plans to lure the demon in, using you as bait.

Your attention waned as you stared at the elder minister, waiting to see if his eyes changed again but they did not and he did not look your direction again for the rest of the meeting. As San and Wooyoung wrapped up their part, several members of the congregation started asking questions. Yeosang stood up, joining San, Wooyoung, and Mingi on stage with Jongo with Yunho staying glued to your side. While they answered questions, Yunho leaned over.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked softly so no one would hear. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Yeosang. “I think we saw the same thing,” Yunho continued. “We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”

As the questions wrapped up, the meeting ended and Jonas addressed the congregation one last time before dismissing them. The doors to outside opened as the priests returned to the bench you currently sat on, Yunho standing up. You stared at Jonas whose gaze swept over the crowd before finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes locked, a wave of fear washed over you. Having been standing, waiting to exit the church, your knees went weak, legs giving out on you and you fell back onto your seat, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N?” Yeosang asked, worry laced in his voice. “What is it, love?” he asked. Your vision went unfocused as you tried to gain control of your breathing which had become rapid and unsteady. “Y/N?” Yunho asked, kneeling down before you. You felt one of his large hands take yours. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“See?” Yeosang asked, his voice sounding far away. Within the blackness of your vision, you could see images of a hidden altar, line with animal bones and skulls. Blood stained the wood and a ceremonial knife sat nearby. Behind the altar, a hooded figure stood before a ring of candles on the floor, blood smeared in the middle into a crude sigil you’ve never seen before.

As the vision came, it went and your own vision returned, Yunho’s face coming back into view. “What did you see?” he asked softly. You looked up, searching for Jonas as he disappeared into the back hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. “I—” you hesitated. “I don’t…”

“Are you alright, love?” Yeosang asked, kneeling beside Yunho to look up at you, his face full of concern as he reached up to feel your cheek. “Air,” you gasped. “I need air.”

Yeosang stood up quickly, as did Yunho and they led you through the crowded church as more people spoke, trying to make sense of the information given to them. Outside only a few members had managed to make it down the steps. As Yeosang led the way to the door, the sky darkened. He looked up as he started down the steps. His eyes widened. Outside the church, littering the ground and amassed into a pile were what looked to be hundreds of corpses of crows.

Stand atop them was—

“It’s Hongjoong!” one person announced, turning tail and heading back into the church as others started to follow. Yeosang stood firm, blocking you from sight as the other priests also joined the line in front of the church. Hongjoong’s appearance had changed slightly. His hair was a little longer now and a slightly different color. Lighter now.

The horns protruding from his forehead had grown longer, starting to curve back over his head almost like a goats. His eyes were the same black with fiery, mismatched irises. He smiled a wicked smile, showing off his sharp canines as he hopped down from the pile of dead birds.

“Holding a village meeting without the guest of honor?” he asked as he approached Yeosang, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured at the other priests. “And I see you’ve already invited the entertainment,” he added with a chuckle.

“I take it this is the demon?” Yunho asked, turning his head to glance at Yeosang who nodded. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho. “Oh you’re a big one,” he said as he sauntered over. “Might be a little hard to digest,” he joked. As he turned, his eyes met yours and froze, the smile on his face widening. “Ah, there she is,” he said.

The priests closed in around you, shielding you from Hongjoong, making him look at them peculiarly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, chuckling. “Relax,” I’m not about to try and kill her in front of an audience,” he added with a snicker as he started to walk in front of Yeosang and peered around at you from the other side. “As fun as it would be.”

“I tried to visit you,” he said, chuckling. “But you weren’t home. I even tried to… smoke you out,” he added with a chuckle. You felt your blood run cold but anger bubbled up inside you. You tried to step forward but Yunho grabbed your arm, keeping you still.

“You almost killed my parents!” you shouted angrily. Hongjoong made a mock look of sympathy. “Awww,” he cooed. “How unfortunate. I meant to kill them.” You tried again to lurch forward, all love you had felt for Hongjoong evaporating in an instant. “No, Y/N,” San whispered from beside you. “That’s what he wants.”

“Why weren’t you at your parents’ house, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked, drawing your attention away from the demon hunter. “Because I don’t live there anymore,” you answered simply. “I was with Yeosang.” Hongjoong’s eyes studied you as his smile fell, being replaced with a look of curiosity. His eyes shifted to look at Yeosang before he glanced down and noticed something, clicking his tongue before he looked up to look at you.

“I see. You married him.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. “After everything you promised me?” Hongjoong asked. You resisted the urge to scoff, knowing it would probably just anger him. “Aren’t you trying to kill me?” you asked, changing the subject.

Hongjoong sighed. “Now why would I want to kill you?” he asked. “Why would I want to kill my guiding star? My little… Starlight?” A chill ran up your spine. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. Hongjoong laughed loudly. “Why not? Strike a nerve?” he asked. “Does it remind you of our love?”

“Love?” you asked. “You died, remember? The rope snapped your neck. The Hongjoong I knew and loved died that day.” The demon chuckled again. “The rope didn’t snap my neck, Stella,” Hongjoong said, using another nickname. “I said don’t call me that,” you snapped.

He ignored your words and continued. “He suffocated,” the demon said, its voice masking Hongjoong’s. “He hung from that branch, struggling and kicking for minutes as he was strangled. Until the breath left his lungs and the life left his weak, defenseless body!” Yeosang moved to block you from sight.

“Stop it,” he said. Hongjoong glared at Yeosang before he spoke again. “You want to know what his dying thought was?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. Yeosang glared back at the demon. “Don’t,” he warned. “It was of you,” Hongjoong said. “Of the night you gave yourself to him for the first time.” San started forward but Jongho put a hand on his chest, pushing him back in line.

“That was a night he thought about often,” the demon continued. “He loved you so much. And this is how you repay his love?” it asked, looking at Yeosang. “By marrying this… priest?” he spat. Hongjoong peered around Yeosang to meet your gaze, noticing the tears in your eyes. “I’ve thought about it, Y/N,” he started. “Long and hard and I’ve decided something.”

He glanced at the sky before speaking. “I don’t want to kill you,” he explained. “I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I want you.” A shiver ran through your body at his words. “For what?” Yunho asked, drawing the demon’s attention briefly. “For myself of course. I’d like to keep such a succulent little morsel like her nearby. So I can ravage her whenever I want —”

“You will not touch her!” Yeosang interjected as you pressed into his back, hiding from view. Hongjoong let out a sigh. “Tell you what, Y/N,” he said, raising his voice. “I will give you three days. Three days to come to me on your own,” he continued. You felt Yeosang’s hand grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You peeked over Yeosang’s shoulder to watch as Hongjoong walked back to the pile of birds, climbing up to the peak and turning around to face the church. “And if in three days, you still haven’t come to me, I will kill every single man, woman, and child in this village,” he added, ignoring the gasps of the villagers.

“Starting with your new husband.”

Your knees threatened to give out as Hongjoong vanished in a cloud of black mist. The sound returned to the area and immediately the villagers started to protest. “Get her home,” Yunho said in a low tone to Yeosang and the priests attempted to hold the crowd back as they demanded to hand you over to Hongjoong. Yeosang wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the church and back to the house with San and Wooyoung in tow for additional protection.

For a brief moment, you considered doing it but Yeosang reminded you of the plan already set in motion and that the demon would most likely kill you anyway.

“I’m not leaving the fate of my wife and unborn child up to fate,” Yeosang said as Yunho finally filed into the house behind Mingi and Jongho. “You’re pregnant?” San asked, turning quickly to look at you. You glanced at your husband briefly before nodding. “We just found out this morning before the meeting,” you admitted.

“I knew there was something different about you,” Yunho said as he moved to sit beside you.

“So,” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang. “What’s the plan? Do we proceed?”

“Yes, of course we proceed,” Jongho interrupted. “We don’t know what else the witch promised the demon in exchange for power and they could demand more sacrifices for more power, we can’t be too careful. The demon must be stopped.”

There was a murmur of agreement and you let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, your vision swimming again. “Y/N?” Yeosang asked, moving to kneel before you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

You felt the urge to vomit but managed to push it down. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m just tired.” Yeosang cupped your cheek. “She should probably rest,” Yunho offered. “Lie down for a bit.” Yeosang nodded and stood up, holding out his hand. You took it, thanking him and saying a brief farewell to the others as Yeosang led you through the house to the bedroom.

He shut the door and walked you over to the bed, sitting you down and moving to untie your boots and remove them. “Here,” he said softly, pulling the covers back and helping you lie back before pulling the covers back over you.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “If you need anything, just call for me,” he added. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll make it tonight.”

Sleep came quickly for you the moment he left and shut the door behind him, leaving you to a restless slumber full of nightmares.

—————————————————————

The following morning you woke up, wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, the blankets pulled up around the both of you. Blinking sleepily, you started to settle back into a slumber, wondering when he had come to bed the night before when a sour feeling in your stomach started to bubble up. You knew the feeling all too well and were awake in an instant.

You scrambled to get up, waking Yeosang in the process as you hurried to get out of his hold and the blankets without falling. “What’s wrong?” Yeosang grumbled as you ran for the door, throwing it open and running to the front door.

You managed to get it open, stepping out into the cool dawn, frost crunching under your bare feet as you ran to the outhouse, throwing open the door just in time to retch and violently throw up into the bowl.

Moments later, you heard footsteps and a sigh as you continued to spit up. After you felt you were finished, your stomach finally settling, you sat back, groaning as tears burned the corner of your eyes. You felt something warm drape around your shoulders.

“It’s alright,” you heard Yeosang whisper as he gently rubbed your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.” You allowed him to help you up and guide you back inside, ignoring the freezing cold ground under your feet. Once inside, Yeosang guided you back to the bedroom and sat you down, kneeling to wipe the bottom of your now wet feet before guiding you back to lay down.

Yeosang brought a cup to your mouth. “Here,” he said softly. “Rinse and spit. I know if you don’t you’ll wake up and complain about the taste,” he added as you obeyed, taking a sip of the water and swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back into the cup. “Well done,” he complimented as he stood up, grabbing the sheets.

“I’m fine,” you promised as he pulled the blankets up. “I know,” he replied. “It’s the baby,” he added as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll heat up something for you to eat,” he whispered before you heard his footsteps take him away and the bedroom door shut.

You must have fallen back asleep because soon, Yeosang was shaking you awake. “It’s time to get up, love,” he whispered. “You need to eat and get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.” You whined in protest, making him chuckle as he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get this done. Then we can come back here and sleep all night and all day tomorrow,” he said. “Sound good?”

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze and hummed in approval. “I really won the prize by marrying you, didn’t I?” you asked, your voice sounding groggy. Yeosang let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before he cupped your cheek.

“I think it was I who won, my dear,” he replied. “Now come,” he said as he got up. “Get dressed and let’s eat.” You sat up slowly as he retreated, shutting the door behind him. Pulling back the covers, you shivered slightly as you pulled off your nightgown and started to dress.

Once your clothes were on, including your boots, you exited the bedroom to find Yeosang at the hearth, checking the contents of a pot. “We have company,” he said softly as you walked over. You peered through the doorway to find Jonas sitting at the table which had not been moved from the living room back to the kitchen yet.

You walked over to where your husband stood. “What’s he doing here?” you asked under your breath. “He’s come to congratulate you on your journey to motherhood,” Yeosang whispered. You glanced towards the doorway before turning to Yeosang, clearing your throat.

“Yeosang, I don’t want to speak to him,” you started as Yeosang set the spoon in his hands down and took your face in his hands. “I know,” he replied. “I spoke with Yunho and he told me what you both saw,” Yeosang whispered. “But let’s not talk about that now,” he continued. “We’ll go out there together.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the door, entering the room with you in tow. Jonas sat at the table, looking out the window but as soon as the two of you entered, he turned his head, offering a smile. It looked pleasant enough but after what you’d seen, you felt it was out of place and chilling. Yeosang sat you down one seat away from Jonas, taking the seat between you as a sort of shield.

“News has spread of your addition to the village,” Jonas started, looking past Yeosang and directly at you. You glanced at Yeosang who nodded, speaking for you. “Yes,” he said. “It comes as a shock to us,” Yeosang said in a polite voice. “A shock?” Jonas asked, taking his eyes off you momentarily to look at Yeosang. You felt relief for a moment.

“I’m sure as newlyweds, you’ve been very…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering back to you. “Vigorous in your new couple activities.” His words sent a chill up your spine, the sour feeling back in your stomach. You could feel the bile rising up.

“Oh, uh,” Yeosang’s words failed him as he tried to think of some sort of response. “Well, I suppose,” he tried again but faltered, glancing at you. “Pastor Kang, could I have a word with your lovely wife. I could use a glass of ale. I’m quite thirsty and in her delicate condition, I’m sure she should be resting right now. Especially when you have such a big night ahead of you.” Yeosang hesitated, glancing at you.

Words failed him again and reluctantly, he got up, walking into the kitchen. The moment he was gone, you tried to get up, the sour feeling rising in your stomach, but Jonas grabbed your wrist, holding you down as he leaned forward to speak.

“If you think you saw something in the church yesterday,” he started, his grip on your wrist starting to hurt. “Then you are gravely mistaken, indeed. It was a trick of the light. Something conjured by that fanciful imagination of yours. But what you saw was nothing, am I understood?” he asked in a low voice.

You tried to pull away from him, the contents of your stomach threatening to spill any moment. You heard a door opened quickly and you turned to see Yunho walk in from the spare bedroom, making a beeline for Jonas who quickly let go of you, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. Yunho towered over the man as he sat back in his chair.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again,” Yunho started, not bothering to keep his voice down, drawing Yeosang out of the kitchen in a hurry. “I will not hesitate to expose you for what you are, snake,” Yunho continued. Jonas stared up at Yunho with a murderous rage.

“Please make sure our guest leaves, Yunho,” Yeosang said as he moved to your side, grabbing your wrist to inspect the marks of irritation that had started to form. Yunho made to grab Jonas by the jacket but he slapped the larger man’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you fool,” Jonas hissed at Yunho who narrowed his eyes. Quick as a snake, Yunho’s hand closed around Jonas’ throat and he pulled him up. Jonas choked and struggled against Yunho’s grip. “You will leave this village or I will expose you and leave you to the villagers’ wrath,” he said as he turned the knob for the door before shoving Jonas out.

Yunho glared at the elder minister as Yeosang checked your face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You shook your head. “I feel sick,” you moaned. You heard the door slam shut and turned your head to see Jonas marching back towards the church.

“What about the other priests?” you asked, looking up as Yunho moved to sit across from you. “They stayed with other families last night,” Yeosang explained, inspecting your face once more. “Turns out all the protective charms that Jonas made weren’t protecting anyone,” he explained. You turned your gaze to Yunho. “We discussed this yesterday while you were sleeping,” Yunho said, looking at Yeosang. “But we believe Jonas is the witch,” he continued.

“Or at the very least, aiding them,” Yeosang interjected. Yunho let out a dry laugh. “I know you want to believe in him, Yeosang,” he started. “But you didn’t see what I saw. Or what she saw,” he added, nodding towards you. “Ask her.”

Yeosang turned his head to look at you. “It’s true, his eyes—”

“No,” Yunho said, shaking his head. “Not his eyes. The vision.” You stared at him as it came back to you. “W-what vision?” you stammered. Yunho leaned forward, looking into your eyes. “I know you saw it,” he said, ignoring the way you shook your head in denial.

“Because I saw it, too. Last night. The witch, the altar, the summoning circle. All of it,” Yunho explained. “Everything makes sense now. It was all Jonas’ doing.” Looking at your husband, you could tell he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe his mentor was incapable of such atrocities but you knew what you felt when you looked at Jonas yesterday and again today when he touched you.

Jonas was the witch. The one responsible for everything.

“What are you doing? We need to warn people!” Yunho smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “We’ve already done that,” he answered. Yeosang turned to look at Yunho. “What?” he asked. Yunho looked up. “The church is being searched now by the villagers. I instructed Jongho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung to mention something to the families they were staying with in passing. Of course, it might have taken some persuasion,” Yunho continued, shrugging his shoulder

“But at this time, I imagine the villagers are conducting a very thorough search of the church and Jonas’ room,” he concluded. He looked up to meet your gaze. “He will be forced to run and when we banish the demon tonight, he will lose his powers and won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he added. A small smile spread across your face.

Yeosang sighed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth before he finally relented. “Alright,” he said. “So we’re still going through with the plan?” Yeosang asked and Yunho nodded. “Of course,” Yunho answered, turning to look out the window. You followed his gaze in time to see a mob of villagers exit the church, dragging Jonas out with them. You turned away from the window, meeting Yunho’s eyes. “This village’s trouble ends,” he said softly.

“Tonight.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the plan was set into motion. You took a lantern, intent on leaving to head into the woods. Yeosang pulled you into a very tight embrace before kissing you. “Please be safe,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at the stream.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, taking one of his hands and placing it over your stomach. “Us. You will see us at the stream,” you replied, correcting him. Yeosang let out a small huff that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. He cupped your cheek and nodded. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Alright, Y/N,” Wooyoung said as you raised your hood. “It’s important that you guide him to stand in exactly the right spot,” he explained. “I know, Wooyoung,” you said softly, giving him a smile. “I know the mark.”

San gave you a smile as you turned to him. “If he tries to grab you, tie this to his wrist. It’ll hurt him enough to let go of you and you should be able to run away. We won’t be far,” he said, handing you a small garland. You tucked it away, thanking him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you looked around at them. The village was empty save for the priests and yourself. You were ready to play your part in the trap and the villagers had agreed to stay out of the way, keeping inside their homes with new protective charms over the doors and windows of their homes.

After another round of farewells, you headed for the woods, walking over the yellowed grass and dirt. You hadn’t been into the forest since Hongjoong chased you out and so going back felt intimidating. You’d never been afraid of the forest before but now you had a very real reason to fear it which had once been the reason you loved it.

Yeosang watched as you stepped into the forest, disappearing into the trees quickly and let out a soft sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Yunho standing beside him, looking to the forest where you had just disappeared. “It’s going to be alright,” Yunho said reassuringly. “She’s going to be alright.”

“Come,” Mingi said, turning to look at the others. “We have work to do.”

The sun was low enough it was filtering through the trees, elongating the shadows and bathing everything in a golden glow.

‘Golden hour,’ you thought as you walked through the woods, making your way to the cabin. Hongjoong rarely showed himself when the sun was out and so it felt like this was the best time to go into the forest and find his witch box.

Instead of following the path, you tread over the broken branches and fallen logs that littered the forest floor knowing it would get you to the cabin much faster. As you trudged further into the forest, you felt less and less safe. A stark contrast to how you used to feel.

You reached the cabin in no time and saw before you a scene you hadn’t been prepared for. The goats that once greeted you were lying in a pile in their shed, blood and feathers bathed the garden as you stepped over the mess and carefully pushed open the cabin door.

Inside the cabin was a mess. Furniture had been thrown around, destroyed and splintered wood littered the floor. There was blood all over the door and walls and feathers all over the floor. You walked further into the cabin and found the hidden panel. Pushing it open, you knelt down and peered in, finding it empty.

You crawled into the small space, setting your lantern down and producing a small trowel. Looking around for any sort of marked spot, you found a small symbol carved in the wood of the cabin. Taking the trowel, you started digging under the spot for a few minutes until the tip of your trowel hit something. You unearthed a small wooden box and grabbed the lantern.

Carefully, you dusted the top off and found the carving in the top matched the amulet Hongjoong used to wear. You carefully opened it and found what looked to be a lot of small trinkets. You closed it, knowing you couldn’t waste any more time. You grabbed the lantern and scrambled out of the crawlspace.

Once back in the cabin you made for the exit and froze in the doorway. Hongjoong was standing outside the garden gate, watching you. You took a deep breath and exited the cabin, walking towards the gate. He didn’t move, instead, watched you curiously.

As you started to walk past, he stepped in front of you, blocking the path. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a soft voice. You looked up, not expecting that. His eyes were no longer demonic but back to the warm brown you had grown accustomed to and fell in love with.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” you replied. “You told me if anything happened to you that I should take this box from its hiding place and bury it deep in the forest.” You gestured at the box cradled in your arm. Hongjoong glanced at it before his eyes met yours.

“Why didn’t you do it before?” You stared at him. “Well it was storming that night and so I planned to do it the next morning but then you came back that night and things just got… confusing,” you said softly. You glanced towards the setting sun. Hongjoong seemed to take notice. “Are you in a hurry?” he asked, sounding genuine.

You nodded. “Yeah, the woods aren’t safe at night,” you said softly. An idea crossed your mind. “I’m going to bury this now. Do… Do you want to come with me? See where I put it just in case?” Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing over his face as he nodded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before holding your hand out for him to take. He hesitantly took your hand and you walked, pulling him along as you headed for the stream. As you walked, hand in hand, you noticed how his hand was warm and it almost was as if he was himself again but you knew it was dangerous to think like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly as you walked. “I do, though,” you said, nodding, seeing bits of the stream through the trees. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have to do it?” You glanced up at him as you walked.

“Because I promised you I would and I keep my promises.”

Hongjoong studied your face before he looked down, noticing the ring on your finger. “Like you kept your promise to love only me?” he asked, sounding heartbroken. “You died,” you reminded him. “You died and became something else. I had to think of myself,” you explained. “I needed to get away from my parents. I just wanted to feel happy again,” you said softly.

Hongjoong stopped, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

“We could be happy,” he said as you turned to look at him. “Hongjoong,” you said, shaking your head as he let go of your hand and moved forward, closing the distance and taking your face gently in his hands.

“We could leave this all behind. Run away like we planned and live a life by the sea,” he continued. You pulled back, feeling your conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “No, we can’t,” you replied. “You’re dead, Hongjoong.”

He looked at you in both pain and confusion. “You said you would always love me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I will,” you replied. “I will always love Hongjoong,” you repeated. He looked up at you. “But you are not Hongjoong.”

He stared at you until his form shifted, the fiery eyes coming back, horns reappearing. “You’re a very smart woman,” he said, Hongjoong’s soft cadence gone, replaced with this more confident and arrogant sound one. “We could be happy,” he repeated, his hand moving to your cheek. “I could be him,” he added.

His hand slid down to your throat, fingers brushing your skin. “I could be Hongjoong for you,” he whispered. The thought of a demon masquerading as Hongjoong made your skin crawl. It was bad enough he had latched onto his soul and possessed his body. “I could build you those cabins. What was it? A hundred of them? I could do that.”

You backed away from him, shaking your head. “No,” you answered. “You are a demon, pretending to be the man I loved. You’ve killed people. You wanted to kill me,” you continued. The demon took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.

“I don’t want that anymore,” he pressed on. “All I want is you now. I wish I could kill you but he would fight. He might force me out and I can’t have that. I worked too hard to get this body.” You stared at him in disgust. “He’s powerful. His thoughts. He wants you more than anything. More than life itself. I have never experienced such intense longing like this.”

“I have to have you or else the thoughts won’t stop.” You took a step back.

“You’ll never have me,” you replied. “You’re not Hongjoong. You’re a disgusting, vile demon who has killed good, innocent people. Hongjoong would be disgusted by what you’ve done with his body. You will never be Hongjoong!”

The demon lunged for you but you dodged his attempt and turned, heading for the stream, jumping over the sigil on the forest floor. The demon gave chase, running through it and just like that he was caught.

“Got him!” Wooyoung yelled. At once, the priests appeared from the brush and attached ropes to Hongjoong’s wrists and neck, holding him as Yunho prepared the banishing ritual.

“Y/N,” Yeosang said as he turned to look at you. “Head back to the village!” You looked at the ropes binding Hongjoong as he fought to free himself and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “It’ll take too long,” you said back. “I’m going further!”

Before Yeosang could stop you, you had turned and ran across the stream, following the path you’d look at, wondering where it led.

Tonight would be the night you would find out.

As you ran through the trees, you followed the twists and turns of the dirt path as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. As you rounded the bend, an old stone building came into view. You ran towards it, stepping over the threshold and looked around. It was a round room with three open doorways and a smaller room opposite where you entered. It seemed to be structurally sound.

You approached a small round platform and stepped onto it, looking up at the stone ceiling before kneeling down and setting the box down. You drew a circle with a sigil inside, following Mingi’s instructions and carefully set the box in the middle, grabbing the firestarter Yeosang had given you and quickly lit a fire before lighting a small piece of loose fibers and dropping them into the box.

You quickly surrounded the entire circle with a protection circle, like Mingi has shown you and took a step back, looking at the small inferno before you. “Now no one can stop it,” you whispered as you sat back and watched it burn.

“We can’t hold him much longer,” Yeosang said as he watched Hongjoong struggle against the ropes. “It’s just so Y/N can burn the contents of the box,” he said, turning to look in the direction you had run. Hongjoong let out a roar, pulling at the ropes. Yeosang looked as the individual threads started to snap.

“Perhaps we better start,” he said, turning to look at Yunho who nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Jongho,” he added, turning to look at the monk. “You’re up.”

Mingi and Wooyoung tightened their grip on the ropes as did Yeosang. Yunho took Jongho’s place, allowing the youngest to approach Hongjoong from the front, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a small leatherbound book.

He looked up at the demon as it snarled and attempted to lash out. Jongho glanced around at the others as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

Jongho cleared his throat before speaking in a clear, unwavering tone.

“In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.” A chorus of affirmations rang out from the others before he continued.

“Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei. Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me,” he continued. Yunho glanced at the setting sun before turning to look at the demon. The ropes were becoming more and more frayed as the strength of the demon grew.

“I think we might have to skip formalities, Jongho,” Yunho said as he looked at the young priest. Jongho looked up, eyes examining the ropes before he lowered his eyes and started flipping through the pages of his book.

“Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu et Chrísti,” he continued, reading from the new page. “Eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre.”

San looked at Wooyoung with a quizzical look. “Does it always take you this long?” he asked, to which Wooyoung glared at him. “You can’t just recite a few words and then lop his head off,” Wooyoung answered. “It’s much more complex than that.”

At his words, the demon let out a roar, pulling at the ropes even more. “We don’t have time for this!” Yunho yelled at the two. “Jongho, I apologize, I know you have a penchant for doing this properly but we really cannot waste any time. We have to speed this up before we lose control of the demon!”

Jongho’s brows furrowed in annoyance as he flipped a few pages further and reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial of what looked to be blood. “What is that?” San asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Blood,” Jongho said simply. “The order Jongho comes from uses blood instead of water for rituals. They bless it the same way you do water,” Yunho explained.

Jongho flicked the vial towards the demon and immediately, a reaction occurred. The blood hit the demon’s face and started to sizzle, the demon letting out a demonic screech. “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis,” Jongho said in a loud, clear voice. “Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo!”

He turned to look at San. “Ready yourself,” he instructed. San nodded, reaching over his shoulder to grab the handle of the sword that rested against his back, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong. “When I tell you, swing and swing hard.”

“Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth,” Jongho recited the passage from his book.

“You know this next part. Recite your parts,” Jongho instructed, directing his words to San.

“Ab insídiis diáboli,” Jongho said, not looking up from his book as a strong wind started to swirl around them.

San’s grip tightened on his sword. “Líbera nos, Dómine,” San said, keeping his voice steady as fiery eyes turned their gaze upon him.

Jongho pressed on. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tíbi fácias libertáte servíre.”

San’s look of determination did not waver as he spoke. “Te rogámus, áudi nos.”

Jongho looked up from his book as he recited his last part. “Ut inimícos sánctae Ecclésiae humiliáre dignéris.” He snapped the book shut as San pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, taking the handle with both hands.

“Te rogámus, áudi nos,” San repeated, bringing the sword up.

Jongho hit the demon with one more shake of the vial of blood but before San could bring the sword down, the ropes broke, sending Mingi, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Yunho flying backwards. Jongho stumbled backwards from the force as the demon lunged at San. A choke scream of pain rang out as the demon grabbed San’s weapon, ripping it from his hands and plunging it into the hunter’s chest.

Mingi got up, grabbing the snapped end of the rope in an attempt to gain control of the situation but the demon was quicker, grabbing his arm. Mingi tried to pull his arm away but the demon was too strong.

Yeosang looked up as Mingi started to let out a scream of pain and before his eyes, Mingi’s arm caught fire, spreading quickly throughout his body. Mingi fell to the ground, screams piercing the air as he rolled around. Yeosang attempted to get up, Yunho helping him up as the demon turned its attention on Jongho, leaping onto him and knocking them both to the ground.

In a matter of seconds, the demon was able to take out three of them but Yunho was determined. He grabbed one of the ropes, fashioning a noose quickly before throwing it over the demon’s head and pulling as Yeosang grabbed another rope. Wooyoung, instead of helping, pulled out a dagger. “Wooyoung, no!” Yeosang yelled as the younger man went for the demon, driving the dagger into his side, managing to hit between two of his ribs.

Hongjoong turned, grabbing Wooyoung by the throat and squeezing. Yeosang watched as the demon lifted Wooyoung with ease, lifting him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Without wincing, he pulled the knife out of his side and stabbed it into Wooyoung’s abdomen, twisting the knife with a malevolent grin. He harshly pulled the blade out at an angle, slicing sideways into Wooyoung’s stomach before dropping him to the ground.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as Hongjoong stalked forward, Wooyoung’s dagger in hand. Yunho dropped the rope, getting to his feet, and rushed the demon. Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion as Hongjoong reached Yeosang.

There was a sting in his stomach, just to the left of his navel followed by a burning sensation. Yeosang’s eyes traveled down as all sound seemed to be muffled, noticing the blade of the knife had been driven into his skin, through his shirt. He looked back up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze, the two staring at one another before Yunho tackled the demon to the ground.

Yeosang let out a cry of pain as the knife was ripped from his stomach, sending a fresh wave of pain throughout his body as he covered his stomach, blood beginning to soak his shirt. Yeosang fell to his knees, looking past Hongjoong and Yunho wrestling on the forest floor to the still bodies of San and Jongho. Wooyoung was still gasping for breath as he lay, bleeding out.

Mingi’s charred body lay several paces away still smoldering. Yeosang heard a sickening snap and Yunho went limp, falling to the ground as Hongjoong stood over him. The demon turned to Yeosang, panting with effort. He grabbed the knife and walked over slowly, grabbing Yeosang by the hair and forcing him to look up at him.

“I could finish you right now,” Hongjoong said, pointing the bloodied tip of the blade at Yeosang. “But I have unfinished business with your wife. If you’re still alive when I come back,” he added, pushing Yeosang to the ground. “I’ll kill you then.”

Yeosang was unable to see which way Hongjoong went, but knew without a doubt it was the same direction you had gone. Despite the agonizing pain, Yeosang pushed himself up, keeping his hand over the wound in his stomach as he stumbled after, following the path just beyond the stream. He needed to get to you before something happened.

You sat motionless, watching the box burn, each item either turning to ash or charring. The small fire popped and crackled, providing a surprising amount of warmth as you rested a hand over your stomach. You looked down, feeling a small amount of triumph at what you had accomplished and could only hope the priests had been able to do the rest.

There was a small whoosh behind you and a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened as a chill went up your spine and slowly, you turned to look at the doorway behind you, finding Hongjoong standing in the only means of escape, hands covered in blood and a bloodied knife clenched in one hand.

Your eyes traveled up to his face, noticing the specks of blood all over his shirt, neck, and face. You scrambled up, backing away until your back hit the wall. “No,” you whispered as he looked up from the burning box. He started forward and you screamed at him to stay back.

He looked down at the knife in his hand and back up at you before tossing the blade aside, ignoring the clatter of the steel hitting the stone floor as he crossed the room to where you stood, caging you in as he grabbed your throat. “You’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Y/N,” he said as he pinned you against the wall.

You struggled against his hold, fingers slipping over the blood that coated his wrist. “Let me go,” you squeaked out, making him laugh wryly. “Let you go?” he asked in an almost hysterical tone. “Did you not hear me earlier, Starlight?” he asked, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, lips close to yours. “I. Want. You.”

You tried in vain to pry his hand off you, kicking as he slid your body up the wall, lifting your feet off the ground. “Whether you give in to me willingly or fighting doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end Starlight.”

You slid the garland San had given you from your pocket and quickly wrapped it around Hongjoong’s wrist. The effect was instant and he threw you to the side as he screamed in pain, the materials burning his skin.

You landed on the stone, hitting your head with a crack but tried to scrambled up and make for the archway. Hongjoong recovered quickly, crossing the distance and grabbing your ankle, making you trip and fall before he started dragging you back towards him.

“Please, please, please!” you screamed, trying desperately to grab onto the stone blocks of the floor. Hongjoong pulled you under him, rolling you onto your back as he pinned you against the stone floor. “Now you want to beg for your life?” he asked, laughing mockingly.

“After every stunt you’ve pulled. Luring me into that trap, burning that box, and then using that little trick with the garland? You think after all this, I’m going to show you mercy? You’ve been helping them all along, you slippery, little minx.”

You tried to kick him off but your efforts were in vain. “Please,” you said tearfully as his eyes traveled down to your throat. “I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, tears falling freely. Hongjoong looked up to meet your gaze. “Another trick?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. “I’m with child. Please,” you continued.

“Don’t kill me.”

Yeosang stumbled along the path, one hand covered in blood that continued to seep out of the wound on his stomach. He leaned against a tree, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he pressed on. His breath was growing shorter, he knew he didn’t have long and he needed to get to you before Hongjoong did.

As he rounded the bend in the path, he noticed an abandoned stone building with a flickering light inside. ‘That must be where Y/N is.’ He continued forward, hobbling towards the building. As he reached the open doorway, he stumbled, falling to his knees, letting out a pained groan as more blood painted his hand. He let out a couple deep breaths before forcing himself up and through the doorway.

Across from him, perched atop a small platform, stood Hongjoong. At his feet, a ruined, burned box surrounded by a circle of protection. Yeosang looked back up and noticed you pinned against the wall behind Hongjoong, vines holding you up. You let out a gasp at the sight of your husband as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Let me go, please!” you begged. Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder before he sighed, waving his hand. The vines retreated, slithering away like snakes and releasing you from their hold. You rushed past him to Yeosang, dropping to your knees to look him over, only noticing his bloodied hand as you looked down.

Hongjoong stepped around the box, stepping down from the platform as he watched as you fretted over Yeosang. You turned to look at him, tears in your eyes. “Please,” you begged. “Save him. If Hongjoong is still in there, please save Yeosang!”

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t hear you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hongjoong is buried deep inside. And besides,” he said, starting to pace the room behind you. “I doubt he would willingly help the man who stole you from him.”

You turned to look at him. “He didn’t steal me!” you argued. “Hongjoong died, you tried to kill me, and Yeosang saved me. I owe him everything. I love him.” You felt Yeosang grab your arm, looking up at you wearily. “Run,” he panted. “Leave me and save yourself.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. “No,” you replied. “I’m not leaving you behind!” You heard Hongjoong stop pacing behind you and turned to look at him. “He’s right, you know. You should run. I’ll even cut you a deal,” he said with a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You run now, I’ll focus all my attention Yeosang. Draw out his suffering before I kill him and when I’m done, I will hunt you down and do the same to you. Think of it as a head start,” he said with a wicked grin, a malicious glint in his eye.

You stared back in horror. “You said you didn’t want to kill me,” you reminded him. Hongjoong smiled, laughing to himself before it subsided. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I lied.”

Yeosang started coughing and you turned as he coughed blood into his hand. “Oh,” said Hongjoong in mock concern. “That doesn’t look too good.” You turned to glare at him, tears streaming down your face. “Now is your perfect chance to run, cause if he dies before you get very far, it won’t take me that long to hunt you down.”

You shook your head. “You’re a monster,” you spat. “How charming,” Hongjoong said in a monotonous voice as he stared back. “I’m offering you a chance to live just a little bit longer and you’re calling me names for it.”

“I’m not leaving!” you shouted. “I’m not a fucking coward, like you!” You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “I’m not running.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do what you have to,” you whispered. “I’ll buy you some time.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before crossing the distance and grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you from Yeosang’s grasp. “No! Don’t. She’s pregnant!” he yelled as Hongjoong dragged you back, making you face Yeosang as he forced you to your knees. “She already tried that,” Hongjoong scoffed.

He produced the knife taken from Wooyoung and brought the edge of the blade to your throat. “No, no, no!” Yeosang shouted. “It’s not mine!” he yelled, drawing Hongjoong’s attention. “What?” the demon asked. “It’s not mine,” Yeosang whispered. “She was pregnant before we were ever intimate. She got… so sick before we got married. She was sick for days. Throwing up blood and I thought maybe she’d been poisoned,” Yeosang explained quickly.

“But I think she was pregnant.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the priest before looking down at you and back up to Yeosang slowly. “And there’s only one other man she’s been with,” Yeosang added. You sobbed silently as Hongjoong lowered the knife, pointing it at Yeosang. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked.

Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But you must have known when Hongjoong came back, they were intimate. You were already inside his body. Did you not take control sometimes? During the act?” The demon stared at him. “And what if I did?” he asked. “What would that change?”

“That could be your child,” Yeosang answered. “It wouldn’t be mine,” the demon answered. “It would be Hongjoong’s.” Yeosang shook his head, holding a hand out as he rushed to buy some time. “No, not if you were in control when you climaxed. It would be your child.”

The demon looked back up. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he asked, letting out a humorless laugh. “This changes nothing. You’re both going to die.”

You let out a sob as Hongjoong grabbed the back of your head. “Look at him!” he ordered. “I want his dying face to be the last thing you see,” he added as he brought the blade back to your throat. “Y/N, look at me,” Yeosang said suddenly as you gasped between sobs. “Look at me, sweetheart.” You blinked the tears away, meeting his gaze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do what you have to,” you added. “I love you, Yeosang. So much.” His eyes widened as you glanced down at the box before you turned, lunging at Hongjoong and knocking the both of you backwards, the knife falling from his hand with a metallic clang. Yeosang dropped his hand to the stone, quickly drawing a small sigil as you and Hongjoong wrestled on the floor, both of you grunting in effort.

“Fortress of stone, hear my words and hold this creature of evil at bay. Let him not travel from this place for eternity as long as the stone endures. Hide him away from the world and keep him imprisoned,” Yeosang whispered as he finished the symbol.

With a loud snap, Yeosang looked up as Hongjoong sat up, staring down at your lifeless body. A sob left Yeosang’s lips as the demon got up, stumbling backwards as he stared, wide eyed at your corpse. The fiery eyes had returned to Hongjoong’s warm brown ones and in a cruel joke, the demon forced Hongjoong to look on in horror at what he’d done. “I’m…” Hongjoong whispered as Yeosang dragged himself over to where you lay.

Hongjoong looked up as Yeosang reached you, pulling you up to cradle your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—” Hongjoong said as Yeosang looked up at him. “I know,” Yeosang answered. “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.” He looked back down, caressing your still warm cheek. “It was one last cruel act of the demon to break your spirit and I daresay it worked.”

When Yeosang looked back up, the warm brown eyes of Hongjoong were gone, the demon’s eyes were back and he looked down at him. “Very observant indeed,” the demon said with a sneer. “I was going to kill you,” he continued as he started to walk past. “But I think I’ll just let you bleed out. It’s more fun that way.”

Yeosang let out a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to stay and watch,” he said, looking up. Hongjoong turned at the doorway to look at him. “I’ve bound your demonic soul to this building and now you’ll never be able to leave,” Yeosang explained, pointing at the sigil which was now etched into the stone and no longer written in his blood.

“As long as any part of this building stands, you will be stuck here for eternity,” Yeosang gasped, as his grip on you lessened, the strength leaving his body. He was able to give the demon a smirk of his own as those fiery eyes turned to look at him in a murderous rage. “My parting gift to you.”

Yeosang slowly succumbed to his wound, slumping over your body as he finally passed out. Hongjoong turned to the doorway and attempted to reach past it, finding an invisible barrier keeping him from leaving. He tried again only to be forced back. He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the stone wall as he tried in vain to break the stone and free himself.

He threw himself against one of the walls and screamed in anger towards the stone ceiling, the sound reverberating off the stone. He sat in silence, breathing heavily as he stared at yours and Yeosang’s lifeless bodies and then the burnt box. He looked away, anger still coursing through him until he saw the three open doorways, staring at them for what felt like hours.

Finally, he got up and walked over, peering into each one before he started to inspect the walls more closely. He turned about the room a few times before he walked over to the small platform and stepped up onto it, looking around before raising his gaze to the ceiling, noticing the small open circle in the middle.

He looked down and took a seat at the edge of the platform, looking at you and Yeosang once more before scoffing. “Well,” he said, admitting defeat. “You certainly got the last laugh in,” he continued. “And since I’ll be stuck here for the foreseeable future,” he added.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years ago

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The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look, I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club?

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

PART 2 || PART 3

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds.

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey.

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless.

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question.

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue.

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart.

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive.

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him.

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table.

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home.

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind.

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well.

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece."

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe.

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be."

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts.

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities.

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter.

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were.

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

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