#lush treelines

[herbalnature]

Breathe in the tranquility of this serene Mirror Lake, Massachusetts, where the cotton candy clouds and lush treelines kiss their reflection. Dusk paints calm on water's canvas—a perfect symphony of nature's quiet beauty.

#Mirror Lake #Massachusetts #tranquil scenery #reflection photography #nature beauty #dusk landscapes #serene environments #cotton candy clouds #water's canvas #lush treelines #natural symphony #quiet beauty #outdoor photography #landscape lovers #peaceful vibes #reflective waters

[moonlightsolo]

Imagine going to the bioluminescent forest to research plants and neteyam is bathing there but you haven’t met and you try to sneak away before he sees you watching him🫣🫠

wow i finally finished this after literally months & it was definitely worth the wait ;)

very descriptive smut 18+ minors dni pls!!!! & thx to @cinetrix for fueling my delusions w these photos <3

the forest of pandora; one of the many treasures of the extrasolar moon.

coming from earth, where the greenery has been absorbed by concrete jungles, this new planet is fascinating to you.

pandora’s lush paradise is filled with rich varying colors, and trees that tower into the atmosphere. being a xenobiologist in this environment, is like hitting the jackpot.

the bizarre flora can keep you occupied for hours, every time you step foot outside you always find something new to observe.

but when you stumble upon a na’vi you haven’t seen before- and somehow looks vaguely familiar… you can’t help but gawk at him as he washes himself in a steaming lagoon.

being surrounded by na’vi is intimidating. especially when they’re tall, and lean, and everything that your human form is not. you work alongside the omatikaya clan, thankful that you were too young to travel in cryo after the war.

but as you continue to stare from the tree line, you observe the adornments in the man’s hair, and the neckpiece that confirms he belongs to the clan you work alongside.

how have you never seen this na’vi before? you know everyone! from the olo’eyktan, to the tsahìk. you crouch down in your spot in the shadows of the trees, watching how he softly scrubs his body and creates white suds over his blue skin.

you admire him from afar, taking note of the valleys of his defined muscles and how they protrude magnificently from having a low percentage of body fat, if any.

although you appreciate the plants, the best part of the planet is ingenious species of the world— the na’vi.

their skin is a muted cyan, and adorned with stripes that are not all uniform. they’re also tall, much taller than an above average human male- and their bones are reinforced with a naturally occurring carbon fiber, making their muscles sharp and chiseled…

…and this one is absolutely breathtaking. his nose is perfectly slanted, and his ears are pointed yet soft at the same time. his eyes are round and golden like the star that shines in the sky.

god, is he fucking tall, like a tree. you feel like if you would stand next to him, you would only reach his goddamn elbow! oh man, you’d like to climb him.

you shake away your dirty thoughts, almost laughing at yourself for thinking so irrationally. you’re crouched here, stalking a na’vi as he bathes— what a creep.

you stand up fully to turn around and walk the opposite way, but your foot crunches loudly on a thick twig. it’s almost like a chain reaction as a nearby animal in the bush darts out in attempt to escape from your human self.

instinctively, you let out a screech as you stumble backwards to run away from the scared little thing. your heels catch the fallen log, the one you were previously hiding behind, and your knees buckle which sends you hurtling over the wood.

you tumble backwards past the treeline, and into the open field. you land on your butt with your back facing the lagoon. your heart is pounding out of your chest, whether it’s from the animal startling you, or the embarrassment of the na’vi now knowing you were in the trees near him.

you take a deep breath to calm your nerves, one of your hands rest on your chest as you attempt to control your breathing. oh god, you’re such a weirdo. he has to know you were watching him. maybe you can play it off as you simply tripping and falling.

before you could seek out where the na’vi is, a large heavy hand lays on your shoulders from behind. the feeling startles you, and makes your entire body jolt to spin around on your butt and face the intruder.

“oh god… hi.” you puff out breathlessly, and your eyes look over his damp body and the pearly-white smile on his face.

“you okay?” his accented voice speaks in english.

your face obviously looks taken aback, which makes him take a step away from you and his hand falls back to his side. “i’m okay, yeah… yeah, wait — you speak english?” your eyes peer up at him curiously as you stand to your feet, and he can’t help but smile at the inquisitive look on your human face.

“i do.. i grew up speaking it alongside my family, i’d rather speak my peoples language, but you’re not one of them.” his deep voice hums, and you can’t help but notice how his gaze flits over your body.

you’ll say it is a warm day today on pandora, so you’re not completely covered up; you’re wearing a thin tank top that you ripped into a crop, and some tiny khaki shorts that sit high on your waist and short on your thighs.

you can feel your cheeks heat up from him evidently checking you out, which makes your arms cross over your chest to shield your body.

his eyes slightly widen when you unintentionally press your breasts closer to each other. the man swallows and lifts his eyes to your face behind your mask, now knowing that you caught him in the act.

“i’m neteyam.” he extends one of his very large hands, which you gladly take. his hand is warm and heavy in yours, practically engulfing your own hand in his palm.

you smile at his introduction, then your face screws up in confusion. your brain wracks through every memory of where you could have heard that name before. then it clicks, and suddenly your eyes widen in realization, “neteyam sully?” you blurt out, still unknowingly shaking his hand like a mad man.

“uh… yes. that’s me?” he chuckles awkwardly, and looks at your hands still moving between your bodies.

neteyam sully— the olo’eyktan’s son, the stealthy warrior of the sky. the one who rarely makes an appearance in the clan because of his strenous mission to seek out the RDA.

“i know your dad, and your entire family. i work with the omatikaya!!” your eyes dart down to your shaking hands before pulling away in embarrassment.

“oh. you’re the girl? the one norm and max brought in..” he hums, almost like a purr, and his arms cross over his toned chest.

the girl? so he’s heard about you.

“i guess that’s me…?” you let out a nervous laugh, “i’m y/n by the way. it’s nice to finally meet you, i’ve heard a lot about you.” you can’t help but beam at him.

it’s almost as if he is a legend to the omatikaya because seeing him is such a rare occurrence. after his family had returned from the island clan, neteyam went into hiding to track down the RDA, to avenge his people that were lost in the war.

your eyes trail down his body, unable to help yourself; sometimes you can’t get over how beautiful the na’vi are.

neteyam places his hands on his hips as he watches your eyes rake over the expanse of his body, “like what ya see?” he arrogantly asks with a smirk.

you take a step back once you hear his words, “no- no… i—.” you raise your hands in surrender as your cheeks burn with a blush.

“i’m sorry. i was just… admiring, i guess.. i study the entirety pandora so it’s always fascinating to see something new.” your voice is slightly muffled from your mask, and your hushed tone.

slender fingers wrap around your wrists to gently tug your hands away from the surface of the mask, “don’t worry, i’m just messing around.”

when neteyam comes into view, his face is much closer to you from him being slightly bent down. you can see every detail, every subtle knick in his skin from previous injuries, and the slight pink tint to the tip of his nose and his cheeks.

god, he is one beautiful na’vi.

he stands up straight and clears his throat, “go ahead. examine whatever you want. i’ll be your test subject.. doctor.” he sarcastically nods toward you from the nickname, and places his hands on his hips.

the nickname makes a shiver run down your spine—you’re definitely no doctor, but you’ll take it.

you gulp as you allow yourself to peer over his body, letting your eyes run over his muscles and the stripes that adorn his skin. the sun hides behind clouds in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the two of you.

his bioluminescent freckles sparkle in the shadows, and you can’t help but reach out and touch them. his body shudders under your soft touch as your fingertips gracefully run over the spots that adorn his chest. following the trails that lead farther down his abdomen.

neteyam seems to have been sculpted by eywa herself.

“may i say… you are quite beautiful.” his deep voice blurts in the tension-filled air, causing your lungs to constrict from the compliment.

you stare up at him through your eyelashes, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. “so are you.” you reply with a small smile.

he lets out a little breathy, ‘hmph’ from your reply, as if he was amused by it. he bows his head toward you in an act of silently thanking you.

one of his hands rise to play with the wild hair sticking out beside your ears. then he lets his fingers trail down the border of your mask and down your neck; the feather-light touches make your skin crawl.

the look in his eyes darken as he stares down at you, which makes your stomach fill with butterflies. how does someone you just met have such an effect on you?

“i know you were watching me earlier.” his sultry voice purrs out, as his thumb works to rub soft circles into your throat.

your eyes blow wide, and your mouth slightly falls open from his confession, “i–i.. what?” you breathe out as heat fills your entire body, and humiliation burns at your skin.

“it’s okay. do not worry…” he chuckles from your obvious panic and swipes his thumb under your chin to tilt your face up, “i enjoy having your eyes on me.” his deep voice rumbles quietly, but still loud enough to make your skin crawl with goosebumps.

you can feel the heat pool in between your legs from his soft touches. his eyes peer into yours, and you watch how his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips as he stares at you.

you feel shame sit heavy in your chest from how aroused you are. you shouldn’t be doing this and he shouldn’t be encouraging it; he’s na’vi and the son of your boss, and you’re human. there’s absolutely no way this would be possible.

neteyam can tell your mind is overworking itself as your eyes flicker over his face. he takes the opportunity to swoop down and press his lips to your ear, making you gasp in surprise.

no fucking way he’s this close to you right now.

he pulls back, but just enough so his lips were ghosting over the glass, fogging it up and wishing you could kiss him.

the striking yellow of his irises makes your lower stomach clench, and the firm feeling of his hands running down your body makes you bite back a moan.

“tell me to stop… and i will.” he breathes out with a hint of a smirk crawling on his perfect lips.

“we–we shouldn’t…” your voice is breathless, and you can feel your body trembling; whether it’s from nervousness or the anticipation of what is about to happen.

there’s an inexplicable chemistry that cannot be ignored between the two of you.

“you’re right, we shouldn’t…” he takes a step back, tearing himself away from you; which makes you suck in a sharp desperate breath. you don’t want him to stop, “but wouldn’t it be fun?” he swoops back and grabs your hips harshly to pull you into his body.

neteyam can only be honest with himself. being a warrior is tough, especially being away from his family. but one of the worst parts is that he doesn’t have a woman to feed his hunger, to release his pent up frustration— the only thing he is left with is his own hands.

so when a beautiful human girl stumbles onto his path, he can’t help but allow lust to cloud his vision.

a whimper escapes your throat when his hot body presses into you, and the feeling of his bulge sitting on your stomach makes your knees want to buckle. “is that a yes?” he hisses out under his breath.

you fervently nod in agreement, “please. i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” you whine out, almost turning into putty in his strong hold.

neteyam’s tail whips behind him at the sound of that and a cocky sneer forms on his face. he finally closes the gap between your bodies as his hands grip your upper thighs, lifting your body up to his level.

your arms swing themselves around his neck, and your thighs tightly squeeze his waist as he holds you in the air.

he attaches lips to the junction of skin that connects your neck and shoulder, kissing and sucking on your warm body- sending shivers to wrack down your spine. his entire presence is intoxicating to you, and you crave even more from him.

the na’vi stumbles forward to a nearby tree to press your back against it, now your hips are almost flush. only separated by his loin cloth, and your thin shorts. you can feel the weaved fabric of his cloth press against your center, which makes a soft whine spill from your lips.

neteyam smiles against your neck, pulling back to look over your face for a moment. the look in his eyes makes you want to drop to your knees right at this moment, but he’s quick to lean down and continue his attack against your neck.

his sharp teeth carefully nip at your skin and his lips suck little love bites, causing lovely red spots that’ll inevitably show up darker later. the feeling causes an explosion of flutters to erupt across your nerve-endings.

his hands hold your body in place against the tree as he lowers himself, kissing down your collarbones and making his way to your breasts, “take it off.” he breathes out, almost like a desperate hiss.

his eyes dart from your face to your tank top, licking his lips in anticipation. you quickly oblige, pulling your hands from his braids to swiftly tug the flimsy fabric over your head.

you toss it somewhere beneath you to the mossy ground, now left completely shirtless. you silently thank yourself for not wearing a bra today.

neteyam’s tail waves entrancingly behind him as he looks over your naked chest, “mmm, sevin..” he purrs in his native tongue, which almost made you climax at the sound of it.

you recognize that word as ‘pretty’… he called you pretty. the compliment obviously makes your cheeks flush, and he takes notice to it and a smile grows on his handsome face.

he grins at your shyness, and leans forward to look into your eyes. “you are.” his voice rumbles, as one of his hands snakes up to rest on your naked chest.

the feeling of his large hand on your body makes you bite your bottom lip, his hand covers your entire breast and his fingers reach to your collarbone. he takes his time with you as he leaves wet kisses all over your chest until he reaches the other unoccupied one.

he kisses along your nipple, playfully licking at it like a cat before making his way farther down your body. the hand on your breast keeps your body in place as he lowers himself. his teeth nip as the waist band of your shorts, expertly undoing the button with his mouth.

the heat of his mouth unfortunately leaves your body, which makes you wriggle in his grip. “be patient, little one.” he chuckles, and uses one arm to hold your entire body up while the other busies itself tugging your shorts off of your legs. thankfully, he doesn’t ruin them for future use, since human clothes are a rare thing to come across on pandora.

he frowns when he sees your underwear, “so many layers… why?” he grumbles.

a giggle tumbles past your lips, but you snap your mouth shut to stop yourself, “why are you laughing?” he stares up at you from between your legs. the sight of him so close to where you need him makes you salivate.

“m’sorry. it’s just funny.” you stifle more laughter from sputtering out, as a mischievous smile tugs up onto his face. “your kind is funny. na’vi only have our tweng, and that’s it. none of whatever this is..” he huffs as he expertly moves your legs onto his shoulders, now face to face with your center.

one of his fingers hooks into the elastic of your panties, and lets it snap back against your skin. the feeling makes you jolt in his arms as the burn soothes itself.

neteyam places lazy kisses along your inner thigh, smiling as he feels you shudder in his hands, “sensitive.” his hot breath puffs against the damp fabric of your underwear.

you whine in his arms, instinctively bucking your hips forward. he tsks and his ears flatten against the side of his head, “patience, love. patience.” his voice soothes you as he unsheathes his blade from his hip.

“wait! what are you doing?” you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, but he is relentless and too strong- which in all honesty turns you on even more.

“shhh.” he hushes you as one of his fingers stretch the fabric of your cotton panties away from your hip, and he brings the knife up to cleanly slice it in two places.

the thin fabric falls to the ground and your mouth is hanging open in shock. somehow, you can’t even be mad at him for ruining your underwear from how fucking hot that was.

“this okay?” he breathes out teasingly over your core, and all you can do is nod. you’re about to get eaten out by a na’vi, for the matter of fact the olo’eyktan’s eldest son. you wish he could pinch you right now because this seems like a dream.

once neteyam receives your consent, he dives forward. his long tongue explores your folds, making the back of your head slam against the trunk of the tree as you cry out to the sky.

your hands instantly find solace in his braids, as the heat of his mouth finds every possible pleasure-filled spot.

“oh god…!” you let out a loud moan, and your fists grip his braids harsher. your movements cause a hoarse moan to vibrate from his mouth, up into you.

which earns neteyam another loud cry to spill from your swollen lips; it’s like music to his ears. he digs his face farther into your mound, wiggling his face back and forth to coax more of those delightful sounds out of you.

your chest puffs crazily and your back arches off of the rough surface of the tree bark, “yes, oh my god.. fuck- i’m gonna- don’t stop!” you ramble out, as your hips involuntarily buck against his face.

neteyam chuckles as your eagerness, smiling against you as he pulls away to allow you to calm down. the scene between your legs makes you feel as if you could come untouched. no way this man is edging you right now.

he is smiling all giddy, his pearly whites on show with your slick glistening around his mouth. it’s something of your deepest darkest fantasies, you wish you could take a picture so you could never forget it.

your chest heaves as your body attempts to soothe your built up high that was sinfully stolen from you, “what is this god you talk about?” he questions as he pulls you away from the tree, and slides your body down his so your legs are around his waist again.

“someone we humans admire. like eywa to the na’vi.” you sigh out and lean back against the tree.

a sudden surge of confidence floods your body, allowing your nervousness to wash away. knowing that neteyam is strong enough to hold you up, so you allow yourself to unhook your hands from around his neck.

“like eywa?” he questions with a hum, his round eyes intently watch your every move.

your hands run down his neck, to his chest and over his muscles and scars. “yes, like eywa, and i prefer eywa as well.” your breathing shudders as you lean forward rest your mask against his chest.

you can’t help but notice the tiny smirk on his lips from your comment.

your fingers reach up to your face, sliding your finger under the seal to pull it away from your face. his eyes go wide as he stutters over his words, and his hands fly up to press it back against your face.

“what are you doing? you will die, we’re too far to get help.”

your glossy eyes look up at him through your eyelashes, “trust me. i won’t die. please let me take it off.” you whimper desperately, chewing on your bottom lip.

the begging look you give him makes his stomach do somersaults, unable to stop you from doing whatever you want. with those eyes and that look, you have him wrapped around your finger.

his grip leaves the sides of the mask, and a sneaky smile beams on your face. he surrenders to you, and rests his hands against your sides as he watches the mask fall from your face to hang around your neck.

finally, your beauty is exposed from behind the hazy glass. he’s able to see your face fully, drinking in every beauty mark and the twinkle in your eyes.

while holding your breath, you lean forward to press a kiss against his neck. you allow your tongue to dart out, to lick at his clean skin, to feel his heartbeat pumping against your lips. neteyam lets out an obscene groan, one that rumbles deep in his chest and vibrates against your body.

speaking of your body, it feels as if it’s aching for him, like he put a spell on your mind to obsess over him- as if he’s taken over your nervous system like an addictive drug.

you can feel your lungs starting to scream for oxygen, burning in your chest. with one last moment, you push yourself farther by tugging his face down to yours.

his lips are finally on yours. kissing you with passion and fervor, knowing this will be your first and last kiss unless he sees you again after this affair.

his tongue urgently slips past yours and into your mouth, sucking you in like a vice. he breathes you in as he presses his entire front into your body, pinning you against the tree.

you instinctively suck in a breath of pandora’s air, hoping you would receive the blissful feeling of fresh air in your lungs, but instead it feels as if you’ve inhaled hot embers.

neteyam swiftly shoves the mask back over your face, allowing you to take a deep breath of the oxygen that you desperately needed. the color flooding back into your face as you take deep, slow breaths.

“please…” you breathlessly beg. your voice is more whiny than you intended it to be, but you could care less. his hands busy themselves by pulling the elastic back around your head to situate the mask. his eyes full of worry, but he realizes that your mind is not thinking about how you almost just suffocated.

your head falls back against the tree behind you as your back arches, and your hips buck against him. your body is instinctively trying to seek out the pleasure that he once stole away from you.

“please what, little one?” neteyam’s large hands slide down your soft sides until he reaches your ass. his fingertips dig into the pillowy flesh, kneading it slowly as if he was cherishing the feeling of your skin.

“you are soft. much softer than my people.” his compliment comes out like a growl.

“please, i want to feel you. i need to feel all of you.” your voice whispers out, too embarrassed to really tell him exactly what you want. his golden eyes peer down at you intimidatingly, making you turn your eyes away from him.

“feel me where?” neteyam ducks down to your height, letting his breath ghost over your ear. “tell me.” he demands.

“i—i want you…” your voice trails off as your face burns up in humiliation. “speak with your words. tell me what you want.” his voice raises a little higher than a whisper now. he’s so close to your face, you can feel it.

a little whimper escapes your throat from his demanding tone. you hesitantly turn your face back toward him to stare up into his eyes, “i want you inside of me, neteyam.”

his fingertips dig harder into your ass as he looks over your face for any apprehension. truly, he doesn’t even think he could fit himself in your human body.

“i told you that you could do anything you want to me.” you breathily shudder out, “and i want you to do that to me.”

neteyam doesn’t say anything for a moment, which strikes you with a moment of worry before he pulls you both away from the tree. he walks away from the treeline into the field, to rest your body beside the lagoon in a bed of moss as he kisses at your neck.

the soft feeling of the ground against your naked back makes you shudder from it gently tickling your skin.

as you settle into the warmth of the earth, neteyam settles between your legs. his mouth pulls away from your neck to travel down your jaw, over to your ear.

his hands are busy to spread your thighs around his hips as he suckles at the sensitive spot below your ear. the feeling makes your breathing pattern stutter, and your nails to dig into his back.

“please.” you beg again, “need you.”

one of the hands on the back of your knee rubs down the back of your leg until he meets your inner thigh, “i need to warm you up.”

your eyes dart over his face, “but you already did.” you murmur, eyes blinking up at him dumbly.

neteyam doesn’t listen to you but instead runs a finger through your wet folds, causing you to shut your mouth.

“no warning?” you let out a little laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan when one of his slender fingers slides inside of you.

“oh my…” you moan out, and instinctively reach up to grip at his shoulder. his finger expertly curls up inside of you to press against that spot. and then another finger is added which practically makes your eyes bulge out of your head, “fuck- that feels so good, neteyam.”

“so warm… so tiny.” he grumbles as if he’s talking to himself.

his two fingers feel like a regular human dick, how would you ever be able to take his actual one?

instead of focusing on a pace, he takes his time to massage your walls to open you up. somehow, it feels better than anything you’ve ever felt. he’s pressing against spots you’ve never even discovered. you could even say its a little painful, but it feels too good to protest against.

you cry out, and your hips buck up when he hits a sensitive spot which sends his fingers deeper inside of you. “please. i need you now. i don’t care. please!” you sob out.

neteyam’s eyes are level with your breasts before he sits up on his knees, his fingers pulling out of you to leave you laying there empty.

he intensely watches your tiny body twitch beneath him as he strips himself of his loincloth. he pulls the intricate knots apart and throws the leather cloth to the side.

his cock springs up onto his stomach, finally free from the tight restraints of his tweng.

holy fuck. he’s huge.

and now you understand why he said he needed to warm you up for the second time. your scientist brain takes over as you look over his cock, biting your lip in curiosity. it’s so pretty, which isn’t surprising to you at all.

it’s beautifully blue and has the same stripes as the rest of his body, and the darkening sky makes his white freckles shine as they adorn the veins. his tip is swollen and pink, leaking luminescent pre-cum. you want to take samples, but that would ruin the mood entirely.

you sit up in front of him, licking your lips as you stare up at him. almost silently begging him, “can i touch you?”

“don’t have to ask for that, pretty.” he leans back on his heels, wiggling his hips as he gets comfortable. as you crawl forward, one of his hands reach from his hip to cup your jaw to lead you forward.

your hand reaches down to wrap your tiny hand around his girth, your thumb toying with the almost holographic liquid dribbling from him.

your eyes stay trained to how it trembles under your touch, and how the protruding veins feel under your palm.

you wish you didn’t have this goddamn mask on your face so you could taste him. “wish i could taste you..” you sheepishly admit into the heated air, earning you a guttural groan from neteyam.

which just gives you more motivation to hear more of those heavenly sounds. you tighten your grip around his length, adding your other hand to fist his cock. another melodic sounds escapes his swollen lips, as he watches your hands grip him.

the large blue hand on jaw trails up the side of your face into your hair, carding through the soft wefts and slightly tugging on the roots.

his head falls back when your thumb swirls over his slit, and his hips unintentionally move upwards causing you almost fall backward.

seeing you with your slightly steamed up mask, and an evil grin plastered on your face makes him even more turned on (if that was possible).

neteyam tugs you by your hair up to his face, “no more of that. c’mere.” his voice puffs against your lips as he pats his muscular thighs. which you comply to quickly by scrambling onto him, essentially like climbing a tree.

his hands find their way home to your ass, digging his fingertips into the flesh as he holds you up. you let out a little squeal when your feet leave the ground, and your arms wrap around his neck.

the man chuckles deeply in his chest, and his sight flickers over your face to admire you for a moment. “beautiful.” he breathes out, and leans forward to press his nose into the center of your neck.

neteyam breathes in your scent, letting his tongue swipe up the center to gather it in his mouth. you can feel your body trembling from the longing of wanting to feel him inside of you.

every little movement, or touch he gives you makes you feel as if you’re a ticking time bomb ready to explode. as he kisses at your neck, he keeps you distracted while one of his hands rubs up and down the back of your thigh.

even in the humid night of the forest, goosebumps rise on your skin from the soft touches. with his free hand, he positions his cock under you slowly letting some slack go from holding you up.

his tip prods at your entrance slightly, making your entire body jolt upwards from the surprise of the feeling. “sorry, i-..”

“shhh. let me take care of you.” he hushes against your skin, his breath feels cold from the wetness he left behind. he rests his forehead on the center of your chest between your collarbones, his eyes training on the spot between your legs where your bodies begin to meet.

the stretching feeling of his cock pushing inside of you is almost unbearable, and you instinctively dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

the feeling of your tightness around him is almost painful for him too, you’re just so small.

a pained whimper tumbles past your lips as you dig your head into the side of his neck, panting against his blue skin. the grip on your ass tightens as he stops your body from lowering more.

you can’t help but glance down between your bodies past his head to see you’ve taken about half of him inside of you.

“doing so good, little one. you want more?” his eyes look up at you, his pupils blown wide.

“yes.” you hiss out, honestly not even knowing why you agreed to that when you’re still adjusting to the length of half of him.

neteyam greedily let’s you sink farther onto his cock, relishing in the feeling of your fluttering walls sucking him in farther.

your head falls back as you cry out, feeling slight tears spring into your waterline from him splitting you open.

“lemme hear you.” he groans out against your warm skin, his rough tongue licks at your skin and sucks red marks into your jawline.

“o-ooh ffff-fuck.” you stutter out, eyes rolling back in your head as you take it all in. your ass sits flush against his thighs, your own legs wrapped around his hips.

it takes every amount of neteyam’s inner strength to not fuck up into you like you’re his own personal toy; to completely destroy you from his unrelenting pace.

but his heart tugs at even the slightest thought of hurting your tiny body. knowing his larger size has the power to do so.

he lets you adjust to his length and girth, his own muscles quivering from the feeling of your wetness contracting around him. sweat starts to form at his temples, his eyes blown dark with lust.

you experimentally shift your hips to test the waters, pain strikes up your spine but it’s not as bad as it was before.

neteyam’s unintentionally jolts his hips upward into you, making your eyes blow wide and your arms scramble to wrap back around his neck. “sorry, sorry..” he rushes to apologize.

you know that you sitting on his cock is slowly eating away at his brain, so you finally take a deep breath. “you can move…”

neteyam let’s out air he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that he can finally fuck you like he’s been aching to do.

both of his feet plant into the ground as he wiggles his hips upward into you. he pulls his hips back before snapping them up so his cock pushes back into you, “fuck!” you cry out, gasping as he continues the same movement.

neteyam works up to a steady pace, groaning as your body bounces on his lap from his sharp thrusts.

the pain finally starts to subside, and turns into pure ecstasy. “just like that, neteyam.” you push away from his chest, resting your hands on his chest as his hands grip your hips like a vice. there’s definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow.

your body is pushed past it’s limit as his cock drills into your small body. the sound of slapping skin filling the environment around you, alongside your pornagraphic sounds leaving your mouth.

neteyam watches how your hair flies with every thrust of his hips, how your skin slightly jiggles from the force, how your breasts bounce deliciously in front of his face. he is in awe; he couldn’t find any na’vi that is this soft and pliable.

in a swift turn of events, neteyam flips himself over and lays you down on the plush ground. you whine from the emptiness of him leaving you, which is cut off by a gasp as he quickly pushes back inside of your warmth.

his pace quickly finds its rhythm again, as one of his hands pushes on the back of your thigh so your knee meets your collarbone.

the new position makes you feel even fuller than before, and this give neteyam full range to bottom out inside of you. out of pure blinded pleasure, your hands reach out to grip his sides- digging your nails into his flesh as your body jolts whenever his hips meet yours.

“m’gonna come.” he groans out deeply, his voice raspy and yet so smooth. neteyam feels embarrassed from being so close already, but he hasn’t felt anything this good in months, maybe a year. he’s been stuck with his own fist, and ultimately gave up on it a few weeks ago.

his frustration was at its peak, and ready to release.

“come for me, ‘teyam. inside.” you manage to blurt out in your cock-drunken haziness.

that was it for him. he continues pushing his cock info you as his body shudders and he moans. it’s like music to your ears.

your eyes flutter open to watch his beautiful face screw up in pleasure, the pleasure that you’ve given him. but your eyes widen when you realize, his freckles are pulsing subtly as he finishes inside of you.

oh my god, he is magnificent.

that sends you over the edge, and you tighten around him like a vice which makes him hiss. you cry out as your back arches off the ground, and your hands grasp at any muscle in his back you could find.

neteyam takes the opportunity to slither an arm under your back as he lazily fucks up into you. your hips twitch wildly, and your thighs tremble as you wrap them around his hips.

your heart pounds out of your chest as you attempt to catch your breath, the ringing in your ears subsides and all you hear is your loud breathing inside of your mask.

“you are amazing, oeyä yawntutsyìp.” he breathily speaks his native language to you, which makes you grin.

“your darling, hm?” you puff out with a tired smile on your face.

“wish i could kiss you right now.” he hums, and experimentally wiggles his hips which makes you squeal. “don’t do that!” you cackle.

neteyam chuckles, and slowly pulls out of you and leans to rest beside you on his side. he watches your face screw up in pain and he frowns.

“was i too rough with you?” he genuinely asks and his hand moves to rest on your belly. you instantly shake your head no.

“no, it was perfect. amazing, even. i’m just sore- i haven’t… ya know, had sex in a while.” you admit with a flush to your cheeks.

“i’m embarrassed to admit that was the same for me.” neteyam shyly chuckles, before something flashes in his eyes.

he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the middle of your chest, “i must thank you. i’m glad you fell over that tree.” he playfully adds.

“i am too.” you agree as one of your hands come up to card through his braids.

“should i get you back to the village? they must be worried about you, it is dark.” his bright yellow eyes glance around the forest.

you finally realize that it really is pitch black, other than the bioluminescent foliage, and both of you are naked and exposed to the environment.

“i should, yeah. but i don’t want you to leave.” you mumble sheepishly, which makes the man grin arrogantly.

“maybe i’ll stick around for a while, yeah? see my family, my clan… and spend some more time with you.” his hand rubs patterns into your belly as it erupts with butterflies.

“that sounds like an amazing plan.” your face cannot contain the bright smile on your face.

“now, let’s get you dressed and i’ll call my ikran to take us home.” his hand pats the side of your thigh and stands up tall to find his loincloth.

man, what are the boys back at the lab going to say about you arriving back with the one and only neteyam sully?

#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar twow #neteyam x reader #avatar #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x y/n #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #jake sully #atwow #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar neteyam #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut

[larkspyrr]

chapter ix — and all i can breathe is your life (wc. 4.6k)

prev — masterlist / ao3 — next (coming soon!)

reblogs are appreciated!

Lucy, the beautiful, loyal creature that she was, carried Wriothesley directly to you like a creature possessed, hooves stamping at the earth in a furious gallop.

She missed the trees closing in on either side of her by mere inches—whip-thin branches lashed against Wriothesley’s face and arms and chest, drawing blood wherever they bit into his skin. He didn't notice.

Finally, the lush green gave way to a barren little camp, and as Wriothesley slid out of the saddle, all he could see was you.

You were on the ground, cornered against an old tree with your legs pulled up against your chest, smears of blood on your neck and hands. Your hair and clothes were matted to your skin by something too light to be blood but too dark to be sweat. The unmistakable smell of gasoline permeated the entire camp, and Wriothesley suppressed a gag at the overwhelming odor.

Your eyes were wide with fear, but your brow and jaw set in defiance. Scared, but not cowering; not conceding defeat.

His eyes were drawn to a flash of light near the opposite treeline. Fire flickered from the head of a torch held by a man who was—who was fucking smiling—

Every part of Wriothesley's body thrummed with violence, his vision pulsing against his shoulder with glacial wrath. He felt frost gathering at his hands, the familiar frigid mist condensing into the unforgiving steel of his bespoke gauntlets. He basked in the weight against his hands, tightened his fists with the reassurance that he would never be unable to help those he cared about again.

He looked once more to you. To ground himself. To remind himself.

He stepped into the clearing.

The blizzard followed.

Wriothesley fought like you danced.

He was lethal; graceful. Beautiful. You had seen him in the ring, time and time again, but nothing could have ever prepared you for what he would be like when lives were on the line—your life. He was fluidity; he was raw power; he was precision and brutality. Those gauntlets you had only seen a few times before concealed the kind hands you’d come to know so well; channeling ice and snow and biting, savage cold into overwhelming waves of frigid righteousness. A one-man fortress, hewn from ice.

You gasped as a shaft of ice impaled the ground not far from where you sat, startling you from the viscous haze of awe and terror that clawed at your throat. It caught the sunlight, out of place, stark against the verdant green, glittering, wicked, and sharp.

Your eyes shot up. Wriothesley caught your stare for only a fraction of a second before sending out another cascade of ice toward the Treasure Hoarders, but the flick of his gaze to the shard told you everything you needed to know.

Wriothesley was giving you the choice. You were not powerless—not this time, not ever again.

Your heart hammered like a drum. You didn't hesitate, your body knowing what you'd choose before you had even consciously made the decision, darting forward of its own accord across the frosted grass. On shaking knees, you began sawing at the bindings around your wrists with hurried, cautious precision, freeing your hands to quickly untie the ropes restraining your ankles. With your movement unrestricted, you felt the first full breath fill your lungs in far too many fear-stained minutes, the cold air crisp and dizzying.

You were not powerless.

Paquette may have robbed you of your choice once before, nearly stripped you of so much more than that, but he could decay in the Abyss for the trouble; for believing that he could coerce and manipulate you into compliance. Into submission. Nothing would keep you down again. Nothing would keep you from standing at your rightful place: the world unfolding before you, the wind at your back.

This shard of ice was the reminder you needed—that you weren’t done, you were never done, not as long as you still had a way forward.

You leapt, diving for the brush, praying that the Treasure Hoarders hadn’t noticed you were loose as you turned all of your focus toward the dark thicket. You didn't so much as wince as thorn and bramble bit into the soft flesh of your palms and wrist; you continued patting through the tangle desperately, searching for—

There. Cold, hard Fontainian steel. Your fingers curled around the familiar hilt, feeling as your power rushed back to you like water from behind a collapsing dam, flooding all of your senses. All of your limbs vibrated with restless energy; with the hunger that had hounded you all your life, insisted that you were meant for something else than what you had been born for.

One look over your shoulder had you adjusting your grip and charging forward.

Wriothesley's eyes flared with surprise as you spun into the fray, knocking away the enormous claymore before it could make contact with his gauntlet. The woman wielding it nearly screamed in frustration as she beheld you, upright and furious before her, but just for a moment, your eyes were elsewhere.

You felt your face heat from that mere moment of Wriothesley's focus—of having those blazing eyes focused solely on you, a pride and a hunger reflecting right back, a perfect mirror of your own.

You stood firm by his side, sword drawn, and felt as though your soul was lifted on a brisk winter wind.

After some time, the clearing was finally quiet, the ringing in your ears replaced by roaring silence; your wrath now calmed to an echoing emptiness.

Your assailants hadn’t stood a chance. They attempted to regroup, to recover, but they could do nothing in the face of your joint onslaught, twin fangs of ice and steel. Quickly, so quickly, the five lay on the ground, unmoving. Dead or unconscious, you couldn’t say. You didn’t care. Bodies dotted the clearing; you could see some of their chests rising and falling in the stillness.

Over. It was over. Your body felt stiff.

You heaved but the air seemed to go right through you. Your lungs burned. You were unsure of how to loosen your fingers from the hilt of your sword. It seemed that your limbs had reached their limit for obeying your command, leaden in this bloody aftermath. Your eyes struggled to focus on your surroundings.

“Hey. You alright?” Wriothesley said from somewhere outside your blackening vision, voice muffled as though he were underwater; or maybe it was you who was submerged, somewhere deep and murky in the Fontemer. Everything was quiet, muted, sluggish.

Nausea roiled in your gut. You'd spent hundreds of hours sparring over many, many years. You'd fought harder battles than this in the ring, and yet this had been so unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

You had fought; you had won. But the adrenaline was gone. The thrill had faded. You were not dead. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn't breathe.

“Hey,” Wriothesley said again, slow and careful. There was a hint of something in his tone; worry, maybe? For you?

Why? You were alive, weren't you?

“Talk to me,” he said.

You were alive. Somehow. You were still alive.

Wriothesley had come. Even after you'd hurt him with open eyes and a shuttered heart, he'd found you. You had wanted him away, far, far away; you hadn't pulled your punches, repaying all the kindness he’d shown you with cruelty and dishonesty. You had aimed to sever; to break.

The look on his face had haunted you every moment since. The tragedy of your killing blow, the shattering of a promise. You had let it burn itself into your retinas, a reminder of the consequences for your myopic selfishness; for thinking that you could have it all, your family's happiness, your independence, and maybe even... maybe—

It was foolish. Impossible. Your waxen wings had been reduced to nothing more than drops in the sea, and you barreled down, down, down alongside them.

And here Wriothesley was, his good heart made plain with peace offerings disguised as spears of ice, and you had fallen in seamlessly by his side, happy to take even more that you were not owed; whatever he would give you.

Saved from the plummet you had earned yourself. You thought you’d never see him again. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

You fought to regain your composure, taking stock of what your senses were telling you—using them to center yourself. You were still covered head to toe in accelerant—a strangely alluring odor, thick and sweet. Your hands were frozen and shaking, your eyes wide and bone-dry. Slowly, your vision cleared bit by bit, and your eyes fell on a shaft of wood that lay beneath the reddened edge of someone’s coat. Charred but unlit; impotent.

You turned to further observe the camp and your eyes immediately fixed on the dark silhouette of the duke as his gauntlets clicked away in a flash of frost, faster than a blink. The wisps of blizzard that still remained dissipated as though the storm had never raged at all. A bird from somewhere in the wood began to sing again, life slowly creeping once more into the forest, unbothered by the violence that soaked the ground at your feet.

Your mind raced, spinning and spinning like a wheel in fresh mud. Wriothesley walked toward you, each step even and deliberate and you stubbornly looked away once more, but he was undeterred; his every footfall like a brand on your skin until he finally stopped, too close, not close enough, lifting his hands—when had he removed the fingerless gloves?—the bare skin of his scarred, freezing fingers sliding across your cheek, into the hair behind your ears; holding your face in his palms like you were something to be cherished, smearing the blood on your neck, your lip.

You allowed it. You swallowed the pulse of shame that threatened to overcome you, grappling with the instinct to flinch away from his touch, even as you craved for him to press closer, to drive his fingers into your jaw hard enough to leave a mark.

Your gaze flicked once more to the extinguished torch only a handful of steps away. The promise of death that had been smothered by a sheet of hail and rendered benign.

You screwed your eyes shut. You had been so close. So sickening close to—

“Look at me.”

His voice was quiet but calm; it was a command. A buoy in disquiet waters.

You exhaled. Reached for the salvation. Trusted Wriothesley to keep your head above water.

Your eyes finally met his.

His eyes—the exact same shade as the Fontemer—held yours, evenly, calmly; no further trace of the cold fury or the hurt or the defiance, only—

Archons damn it all.

Your free hand lifted to grip at his elbow, his sleeve bunched in your trembling fingers before you even realized you’d moved. He continued to hold your face, gently rubbing his thumb along the line of your cheekbone, beneath your eye, tracing a path so like the one that curved cruelly just beneath his own.

You breathed. He waited for you to speak.

“You're here,” you whispered. Your voice had never sounded like that; so hoarse, so quiet. The words scratched your throat.

Wriothesley’s eyes wrinkled at the corners, just barely. He held you afloat, kept you from drowning. “I'm here.”

You blinked, shaky breaths coming faster. Your rapid pulse had nothing to do with the fight. “Why?”

“Because—” he began, but then frowned and went silent, a clear, abrupt end to the thought he had started. You nearly winced as his hands fell away from you, your fingers flexing in his sleeve against your will, reluctant to let him go. You loosened your grip, letting your hand fall back to your side. You buried the ache. You didn't have the right to ask for any more than what he gave. You had already taken enough. “Because regardless of... everything else that's happened, I would never let anything happen to you if I could help it.”

Your face burned and you swallowed, wrenching your eyes away, already feeling bereft at the absence of his palms on your skin. You breathed, counting the steady ins-and-outs as you continued to regain control of your body. You scanned the clearing; eyes catching on the prone figures scattered throughout, the clumps of fabric mottled with dirt and blood.

“...Any dead?” you asked finally, dreading the answer and resenting your weakness for it.

Wriothesley scowled, looking up from the bandage he had been adjusting around his forearm. “...No. Banged up but alive. I figure the knowledge that they will have to deal with me for the foreseeable future should bring me satisfaction, but it does not.” He paused, eyes lowering to glare at the shallow cut on your neck. There was something like disgust on his face and you nearly recoiled at the sight of it. He stares at you for a moment too long before shifting his attention back to the camp. “Nothing I could do would ever be enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Wriothesley pauses and shakes his head, brushing off your question entirely; an unexpected surge of irritation rising in your chest at the dismissal, but you swiftly push it back. He cleared his throat, and you recognized the shift back to Warden. “Neuvillette will be here shortly and each will be taken in and charged in accordance with their crimes.”

“I…" you began, and then exhaled roughly. "Thank you. For finding me. I would have died if you had not.” You fidgeted under his frustratingly unintelligible gaze. "Your Grace," you finished awkwardly.

Wriothesley's expression shuttered and he sighed, turning away. You wanted to scream, to run for the hills, to shake him, to pull his face down to yours and erase that stony expression for good.

Wriothesley, on the other hand, seemed to not want much at all.

“Let’s get you home,” he said.

You nodded, but then stiffened as a thought dawned on you—one you had nearly forgotten in all the chaos. Something you needed to do; to see for yourself.

“Wait," you started, your voice catching. You realized for the first time that Lucy had somehow returned, and Wriothesley was patting her snout, murmuring to her too quietly for you to hear. He paused, looking over his shoulder at you, one dark brow raised. "Please, just... give me a minute?"

Wriothesley's brows furrowed but he nodded. “We can stay as long as you need.”

“It'll only be a minute,” you assured again, vaguely noting the flatness in your voice; the distance. Your eyes were fixed on the center tent. “I just need to be sure.”

Wriothesley followed your gaze and froze, understanding widening his eyes. He nodded again, more hesitantly than the first time, his cautious eyes trained on you as you stepped forward.

To the purple tent. To the table inside it.

To the folder.

You lifted the beige paper, let it fall open, looked at the documents within as they spilled out and across the hastily thrown rug on the ground. The untouched cot. The wooden table, bare but for the folder that had lain front and center.

Like bait.

The blood drained from your face. You had known, deep down; accepted it before the fighting had even begun, yet some part of you had still held onto the hope that the reality couldn't be so cruel. That this was just bad luck. That it was a misunderstanding.

But there had never been a job. There had never been any sensitive documents to recover. This task had had one goal and one goal alone.

Your death.

All of them. Each page. Every single one.

Blank.

“The trials are today.”

The sun was warm on your skin; the late summer morning bright and cheery and out-of-place. Flowers bloomed just beyond the confines of your sitting room window in every color imaginable, happy and vivid and blissfully oblivious to the turmoil swirling in your heart. You'd been sitting in the floral-printed armchair for hours, an untouched book buried in the folds of your dress on your lap. You couldn't recall the title; the genre, even. It lay all but forgotten as you stared out the window towards an opera house hidden behind miles and miles of burgeoning landscape.

“I’m not going."

“Oh, of course you aren’t,” Clorinde said imperiously. She huffed. “And what about your testimony? Don't you want justice for what that snake tried to pull?”

Your brow twitched in annoyance. “Of course I want justice,” you said, shooting her a glare. “I gave my witness testimony about Paquette in private to the Iudex. He said it was for my safety, but I also… I just couldn't stand to be put on display before the Court like that. To see them.” You scowled, turning your focus fully on Clorinde, abandoning your bitter vigil of the summer day that dared to be a summer day with no regard to your bad mood. “And I have nothing else to say about Thibeault besides the fact that he's a dick, which is already common knowledge. The only evidence we have against him is Wriothesley's word, though I don't think anyone is surprised that he's involved in any of...” You sniffed, waving your hands around in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture. “This. And what is with the attitude? Are you pissed at me?”

She scoffed. “Of course I’m pissed at you,” she clipped, but then sighed, some of the tension draining from her posture. “I’m mostly so glad that you’re safe. Grateful Wriothesley has as much of a knack for not minding his business and getting into trouble as you do. Relieved that you’re even here for me to be pissed at. But I am still pissed.”

In the face of her obvious concern, you immediately felt guilty for your vitriol. The defenses you'd had queued up died on your tongue. Your fingers played absentmindedly with the pages of the forgotten book—it seemed like you had grabbed one of Chloe's tedious history tomes— and your shoulders slumped. “I know,” you said pathetically. “I don't blame you for being angry. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze was unflinching and unmoved. “What were you even thinking?” she demanded. Her lovely face contorted in anger and—to your further dismay—hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you have any idea what it would do to the people who care about you if you had, Archons forbid, died?”

Your chest ached as though she'd struck you. “I didn’t want to endanger anyone else,” you said, hoping she could understand. “I only did any of it to try and protect my family. I didn't want to drag anyone else into it. Burden anyone else.”

“You don't get to decide what would be a burden for me,” she retorted. “I would never have been in danger.”

“You can’t fight your way out of every problem, Clorinde,” you snapped, and then reigned in your instinct to be defensive; took a slow, even breath. Then another. “This is bigger than just one group of Treasure Hoarders. Paquette has influence. A huge network of allies. I couldn't say what they might do to punish those who interfered. My hands were tied.”

“And what of your promises to me?” she said, purple eyes narrowed. Your stomach lurched.

“I didn’t want to break that promise,” you said honestly. “I was trying not to get him hurt. That was the problem.”

“You didn’t just break that promise," she reminded you. "You broke both.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Clorinde sighed, and the room went silent for long enough that you began to count the ticking of the clock in the foyer. Clorinde's eyes never left your face. Six. Seven. Her mouth tilted into a thin frown.

“...You were hurt, too,” she said quietly. Her eyes flicked to the healing wound on your neck. “In more ways than just the obvious.”

The pain pulsing just beneath your skin surged back with a vengeance, seeming to want to drive her point home. The knowledge—the force of it—was almost enough to bring you to your knees. You had lost more than your pride. More than your safety. You had maybe lost more than you were truly willing to part with, something you hadn't even realized you'd wanted to keep.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said at last, voice weak, feeling exposed. Bare. Your eyes stung. “I don't know my way back from this.”

Clorinde leaned in. Her beautiful features were schooled into a calm, steady expression that soothed you just enough to keep your clarity when it teetered so precariously on the edge of despair.

“A good place to start?” she said. "Fix it.”

You fought your hardest to stop the tears from falling; and failed. You felt warmth trailing down your cheek. “How?”

“Try telling him the full truth, maybe,” she said easily, leaning back from you to fiddle with her pistol; once more giving you the space you didn't know you needed—but she did. Clorinde always understood when to push and when to pull away. She let the pistol drop back into her holster, a faraway look on her face that began to edge suspiciously close to a smile. “And make decisions based on strength, not on weakness.”

You sniffed, swiping at your cheek. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Sure you do. And take it from someone who cares about you,” Clorinde said with a pointed look. “And him. There are some risks worth taking. Talk to him."

You smiled weakly. “I’ll consider it.”

She nodded and shrugged, back to her usual self, and made her way to the door. She leaned against it for a beat, scanning you with that calculating look that always made you wish you knew what she was thinking. You were certain you never would. “You’re sure you’re not coming to the trials?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” she said, but didn't move from her spot. Her gaze softened minutely. “I really am happy that you’re alright,” she said. “Definitely still pissed though. Next time, let me know. I’d be happy to wipe the floor with some Treasure Hoarders. Or corrupt nobles. Maybe even a Fatuus or two. Dealer's choice ”

You laughed, soft and watery. “Perhaps a Ruin Grader? As a treat?"

Clorinde gave you a mischievous smile before closing the door behind her, leaving you alone in the silence of the sitting room to continue not-reading Chloe’s tome.

You put it down, no longer willing to even entertain the facade that you were going to read it.

You'd had enough of ruses to last a lifetime.

Sigewinne clucked as Wriothesley finally dragged himself into her clinic. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Wriothesley offered her a wry smile, already smelling the blood in the water at her tone, so unlike her usual playful lilt. He had been wary at her request—her demand, really—that Wriothesley come pay her a visit at the clinic and his suspicions were now unfortunately confirmed. “Are you upset with me?"

Sigewinne lifted her chin, neatly tucking away a roll of clean bandages into a tall cabinet and pulling out a stack of paperwork from a different one. Wriothesley couldn't help but feel like she was working aimlessly for lack of anything else to do with her deft hands.

“No,” she lied, flipping through the documents.

Wriothesley's smile turned a bit more genuine, hit with a wave of fondness for the Melusine. “Why are you upset with me?” he asked gently.

Sigewinne sniffed. “I'm not upset at you,” she said, closing her eyes and setting the papers she had been sorting through on her desk. "It's just that I’ve known you for a very long time, Your Grace. You forget what that means.”

Wriothesley hummed. It was true—he was fairly sure the only person he had known longer was Neuvillette, and even then only because he had been the one to sentence Wriothesley for his crimes. It was hardly like the friendship they had now. Sigewinne, on the other hand, had been patching him up since he was a teenager whenever he got into a scrap—and Wriothesley was always getting into scraps. It had been she who first offered him the salve he still used to ease the pain when the old wounds on his body flared up. It was also she who always offered him an ear or a shoulder when the wounds on his soul ached or burned, too.

In many ways, he owed the man he eventually grew to be to her. Her care. Her patience. He would never be able to repay that debt, no matter how many years he lived but, Archons, would he try.

Wriothesley tilted his head. “And what does that mean?”

Sigewinne crossed her arms, a familiar look coloring her features—one that meant she was going to speak her mind, and Wriothesley was going to listen. “In all the years I’ve known you, I have never seen you as happy as you were when she was around.”

Wriothesley's smile fell; his heart fractured further, cracks spidering out from the weak points that had already been gone over with a pick. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Sigewinne,” he said softly, knowing there was no point in trying to convince her she was off the mark. She knew him better than anyone, had spent many years analyzing his tells and body language. She had Wriothesley down to a science. “Ultimately, it’s not up to me.”

“You could try being honest.”

“I never lied to her.”

“You omitted truths.”

Wriothesley dragged a hand through his hair, further ruining his thin efforts to make himself presentable. “It isn’t that simple.”

Sigewinne's topaz eyes were bright and sharp, unrelenting —Wriothesley sometimes forgot how much older than him she was. How much wisdom had such a being amassed over the centuries?

It made him feel so young again.

Sigewinne stayed silent for a long while.

“Do you care about her?” she asked at last.

"Of course I do," he said simply. He frowned. "I think that much has been made obvious."

“Then it really is just that simple, Wriothesley,” Sigewinne said, a tiny triumphant quirk to her lips.

"She doesn't want this."

“I’ve seen you fight for what you want time and time again. Why not this? Why not her?”

“She doesn’t want me, Sigewinne,” he said, barely more than a whisper. He felt another streak of pain at the words. “She’s made that abundantly clear.”

Sigewinne rolled her eyes, then leveled an unimpressed stare at him. “Stupid isn’t a good look on you, Your Grace."

Wriothesley balked. "Rude.”

Sigewinne offered him a small, playful grin in return, her gemstone eyes gleaming in the harsh clinic light before her smile faded. Her eyes were no less gentle when said said, “Just try talking to her, Wriothesley. Don’t let this be the first time you surrender.”

Wriothesley was… Well. If he hadn't already experienced the entire range of human emotion in a few short days, he couldn’t be sure he'd have been able to put a cap on the waterworks. As it was, he wasn't sure how believable his composure was.

Knowing Sigewinne, she wasn't convinced.

She quirked a brow at him. Definitely not convinced.

Wriothesley dipped his head to the Head Nurse, ready to flee so he could go think—fall apart, his mind unhelpfully corrected—in his office. “Thanks, Sigewinne. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He turned to leave but was halted by the sound of a throat clearing meaningfully behind him.

He turned and Sigewinne grinned, holding out a small jar with a colorful liquid that made Wriothesley audibly groan.

“Don’t forget your smoothie,” she said innocently.

The Steambird — September 14 Paquette Convicted and Thibeault Exonerated in Murder-for-Hire Conspiracy

a\n: sigewinne appreciation lifestyle

title from 'iris' by the goo goo dolls

this is kind of an interlude where the kids get a good talking to from the Common Sense Duo which was deceptively hard to write lmao. someone explain to me how i can write 95% of a chapter in one sitting like a madwoman and then struggle with the last 5% every. single. time

sorry for the delay (again), thanks for the comments (as always), and i hope everyone had a happy, healthy december ❄️

#wriothesley #wrio #wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #reader inserts #reader insert #lark.writes #🌊

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 10 - Little Giants

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN: Near drowning, fear of drowning, dead animals, food and drink mention, mentions of slaughtering and preparing hunted animals, animal blood, mentions of kidnapping and abusing women, technically what Bride does is self-harm.

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by the patient @queenquazar. thank you so much for reading several versions and listening to my ramblings.

6.3k words

Masterlist

I wanted to put more into this chapter but +7k words pre-edit made it unavoidable to cut it at some point. that's why the ending is a bit sudden. sorry.

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

Your dream was hazy like all dreams are. It was the golden hour of day with the summer heat cooling down, and the light of the sun turning everything into the most pleasant of sights. It changed you too, with your wedding dressing and braided hair. In all your golden shine, you floated over the fields and forest grounds like you were weightless, nothing standing in your way as you travelled to your wedding ceremony. No human walked with you - the village was long behind you, your family dead. Instead, there were laughing Rusalkis greeting you, the Fox and the Heron peeking from behind trees, swamp lights dancing happily and leading the way further and further until you arrived at-

The pond.

A dark green abyss, a maw in the ground of the lush summer forest, ready to take you and swallow you whole.

You were happy as you finally stepped onto the wood planks where your grandfather used to fish so long ago.

One, two, three… With quick steps you made your way to the end of the planks and gazed down into the dark murky water. There was nothing to see. Only endless water and darkness. For a moment you wavered, uncertain if this was what you wanted as the maw stared up to you with unforgiving finality.

You stepped back, unsure of what to do. That is when König arrived.

He came from under the water, rising from the pond like a being of a different time with water running down his skin and eyes burning in a blue you have drowned in already. His hair was wild and tangled with all that was in the water. His hands were clawed and his appearance as frightening as the first day you saw him.

“You are afraid, Bride,” he said and straightened up high into the sky, so much higher than usual, nearly touching the sky and so far out of reach. The water of the pond followed, rising with him and bit by bit closer to the shore, to the planks.

You screamed as the water touched your feet, the hem of your dress, your knees, and hips. Screams like you had heard outside of your house sounded through the forest, dreadful and frightening. You tried to run and reach for one of the trees to get up higher and away from the dreaded water.

“König!”you screamed, “what are you doing? I am afraid!”

But he could not hear you over the rush of water and screams, so far up and away from you. Did he even care?

The water rose higher and higher to your belly, your chest and shoulders, your neck. Fear was gripping at your heels, making you stumble as you dragged your body through the floods and closer to the shore and treeline.

A wave splashed in your face, and you gasped for air only to swallow water.

“Please!” you cried, reaching upwards for anything to save yourself.

“Please!” you managed one more time before the water reached your head, punching all air and hope out of you. The maw trying to swallow you whole.

Please, you thought to yourself before closing your eyes. All strength leaving your body and bubbles of precious air making its way up where you belonged too but could reach no more.

It was cold, dark, and wet.

Your kicking feet were starting to freeze in the dark water, cold, so cold.

Trying to escape the dark you opened your eyes, gasping for air as your body tensed up from the lack of oxygen and swallowing cold maw closing in on you.

Above you was the all familiar sight of your room's ceiling greeted you, indifferent as always with its knots in the wood staring down at you like unblinking eyes.

At your feet the lingering sensation of cold and wet stayed as the dream faded.

You sat up and screamed.

König was deep asleep and draped around your bed like a sea serpent encircling a besieged island. Water flooded your room up to your bed with your feet already in the closing in water and not much dry space left for you to save yourself too.

“König!” you screamed in terror, “Wake up!”

No reaction, his deep breathing stayed slow and peaceful, undisturbed by your screams of help from the dreaded flood.

You scrambled up onto your pillow and grabbed your blanket, bunching it up into a ball and throwing it at König’s head.

“Have you lost your mind? Get up!”

The walls and the water started to come closer, looming over you as if just waiting for a chance to strike and take you as your eyes darted through the room without focusing on anything

Asshole.

The thought went through your body like lightning hitting a tree, setting you ablaze and forging you into something sharp.

Giant, sleepy asshole.

Anger was taking over your panic.

Yes, this felt better. Fury gave you the will to think and move instead of freeze and drown. The water was a problem. It had to be Königs doing. But this was your room?! When did he enter and why? And how did he flood the room?

A shiver went through you at the thought of König flooding the whole region for good – the village, the garden, your family’s house.

You screamed again hoping it would wake König up. Your muscles tensed with welcome strength as you howled like a trapped animal.

Still no reaction from him except for a few louder snores.

Of all the bad past mornings you had waking up, this was the worst.

“I hope you are having a lovely dream” you seethed as you tried to avoid as much of the little waves threatening to flood your last sanctuary.

“Hello?” You called, “Anyone here?”

If König was not waking up, you had to save yourself from this, not ready to wait and hope for the best as the water slowly threatened to sink your sanctuary. Your eyes fell on König and his sleeping frame. He looked peaceful, indifferent to the havoc he caused. His long limbs were wrapped around your bed as if still in sleep he had guarded you. Tangled, messy hair hid most of his face as always. And his skin had the shimmer of scales on it. Asleep and half submerged in water, König looked at peace.

Maybe there was an explanation for all of this.

It’s better be a good one, you thought to yourself as you tried to calm yourself enough to get yourself out of this flooded mess of a room. A different emotion reared its head inside of you as you watched König, regretting that you yelled at him in fear – soft and filled with hope that this would turn out okay.

König snored softly as he shifted his body around your bed, causing your mattress to lift and float on the little waves.

You looked around for a way to help yourself. Your chest with your clothes was solid enough to not be moved by the currents yet was flooded and under water. And the door would be impossible to open with the pressure of the water weight in your room pushing it shut. But the window was close enough for you to… Carefully you got up on your little mattress island, stepping forward onto König’s shoulder jutting out of the floods and finally making your way to the window, opening the window frames, and saving yourself onto the windowsill.

He only shifted around before calming down again and continuing his deep slumber.

“This is a nightmare”, you moaned as you peaked outside.

Outside the garden was as usual. No flooding, no water and most importantly no ladder for you to climb onto and get down into the garden.

You looked back into your room were the water sloshed around your room in its full implausibleness while the rest of the world continued as always.

“Ah, you made it. I knew you would make it. Yes, yes.”

You looked around to discover the Heron standing on the ceiling and watching you from its spot.

“Heron! Why did you not help me?”

The bird shrugged as much as a bird could shrug.

“No hands,” It explained. “How was I supposed to open the window for you, hm? Really, I am just a regular bird after all.”

“Sure” You deadpanned, not feeling like arguing with the speaking bird. “Would you mind helping and getting someone who can help me climb down from here without breaking a bone, and who can help wake up König?”

“The honourable Vodyanoy is asleep?” The Heron asked. “I suppose that should not be a surprise, he has pushed himself a lot these past weeks. Everyone has their limit.”

The bird nodded to himself and stretched out his wings before taking off.

“Stay where you are, I’ll be back in no time.”

Obviously, where was I supposed to go from here? You thought to yourself bitterly and brought your knees up to your body. It was a lovely summer morning, but the heat had not set in yet and you were perched up on the shadowy side of the house wearing nothing but your simple night dress.

You looked back at König.

Had he really pushed himself so much that he had passed out, still trying to do right by you and keep his promise to keep you safe even in his sleep and curling around you like a mother cat around its young?

Not that it had helped much. Your room was flooded now. Your heart was still beating like you had barely survived a drowning, which was not too far from the truth. And you could not wake König for the life of it.

Why did he not say something? How was I supposed to know how tired he was?

The thought of being sheltered and kept in the dark because König thought you untrustworthy or helpless hurt you more than you wanted to deal with, and you pressed your nails into your legs, trying to fight the cold numbness and your dark thoughts away.

A breeze kissed your cold and clammy skin and you pressed your teeth together to distract you.

“Ha! The Bride did not run off!” The Heron cackled as it landed back on the ceiling.

“Funny.” You turned back from watching the soundly sleeping König and faced the heron. “Thank you for your help, Heron.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You eyed the Heron, who probably saw this as a new amusing way of getting itself into your good graces, absolutely hoping you would mention it later to König at some point or get it some fish or another less obvious favour.

“Who did you get, Heron?”

“Your future brother-in-law.”

“What?!” It snapped out of you with a sharpness that surprised you. But freezing and trembling on your windowsill after escaping your nightmare first and your flooded room second, you felt yourself less and less willing to engage with niceties.

Regardles of what you had always been told – to be nice and make a good impression on your in-laws.

“You look stressed.”

You shrieked, nearly falling off the windowsill, and looked up to follow the sound of the deep voice.

Above you, as if leaning over the house like a child’s doll house, was a giant. With unblinking eyes, he stared at you - dark and unmoving. As if he was a being unaffected by time and you just a curiosity that would vanish in a human heartbeat if he blinked. He had a mask over his head, a deer’s skull maybe for it had antlers. But there were sharp teeth in it, reminding you that König had mentioned more than one being out there on the hunt for your flesh.

Unable to move and hoping for the best, you just stared up.

“What happened with my brother, little Bride?” the giant stranger asked after what felt like an eternity.

You blinked and the world was still there.

“He fell asleep, and I cannot wake him,” You answered with a thin voice and hoped for the best.

The giant shook his head, and it was like a giant tree shook its giant crown, with wind rustling through leaves and a flock of birds taking off somewhere in the giant's crown.

“The boy overdid it again. Allow me.”

The giant stepped around the house, looking like he was shrinking himself before standing comfortably before you and peaking inside your room.

“You are in the way,” He said and grabbed you from your spot, lifting you up and putting you down on the grass before you could even catch your breath to scream from surprise.

“Hey, fishhead!” the giant grumbled and stretched his arm inside your bedroom window.

“Wake up! You are flooding your girl’s room.”

“Минуточку,” you heard out of your room as you got onto your feet and crossed your arms to keep warm as you watched the giant trying to wake up your future husband.

“Forget минуточку! You are being rude and making a flood again. Get out of that puddle.”

“Urgh. Отстань.”

The terrifying giant rolled his eyes and stepped back.

“Sleepyhead,” he mumbled to himself before looking down at you.

Instinct was telling you to step back, to run away or at least lift your hands and shield yourself from what was about to happen to you next.

Instead, you froze to your spot.

“Pardon me,” the giant declared and stepped closer, shrinking himself into an even more manageable size to talk to you yet still looming over you like a tall human would.

“We have not met before, and I had not expected to stay long enough to introduce myself. I am a brother to your future husband. They call me Keeper of the Forest. But, I do not care about titles. You may instead call me Ghost.”

He bowed slightly and it looked concerning like an oak tree shaking in a terrifying storm.

You felt tiny, unsure and at a loss of words.

What was the appropriate thing to respond now?

Maybe it was best to rely on what your family always taught you after all – be polite and honest.

“Hello. You know who I am.” You said and bowed in greeting. “Thank you for help, Ghost. I had hopes we would have met under more usual circumstances but-”

“You mean the wedding. I was not planning on attending.” He interrupted with the finality of a falling tree.

Your heart sank.

“Oh.”

The pleasant song of birds in the morning was hanging over you as you stumbled through your thoughts to find anything useful to say.

“Is there something wrong with me and König marrying? I do not want to cause anything bad,” You asked.

Ghost looked at you, his skull covered face unmoving and unforgivingly blank.

“Do not worry, little Bride. Nothing wrong with you.”

Dread creeped up your spin and you shivered, unsure if it was of fear or from the cool morning breeze. Ghost, even in his smaller size loomed over you with dark eyes. And his words worried you.

Can I believe him? Was he a friend or a foe?

“You are cold, Bride. Let’s get you inside and warm. My brother would not forgive me if I would not keep you well while he is…” Ghost shifted his head around like he was considering plenty of words before settling on one, “… busy.”

Unsure if you even could say no you nodded and walked towards the house entrance. Ghost, without a sound, followed you and you could do nothing but watch his shadow casting figure behind you. At the door you turned to Ghost who followed you.

“Will it be safe, or will there be water, too?” You asked, eyeing your door for signs of a flood awaiting you behind it.

“We shall see.” Ghost stepped past you and opened the door, peeking inside before humming deeply with approval.

“No water.” He declared. “It seems like my brother's dreams only included your bedroom.”

Surprised by his teasing you felt your face go hot at the implications of Ghost's words and stepped into the kitchen.

“Wait here. Do not open the door,” He ordered and turned around, leaving you alone.

You looked around while you waited. Königs axe was outside. The broom was small and would not keep you safe from someone like Ghost. And you shivered like a branch in the winter wind before grabbing a forgotten blanket from an evening spent at the oven.

Covered with the blanket, you took a seat in your usual spot. It was warmer this way, having no dry clothes to change in with your wood chest under water.

You sighed. This would have to do.

Ghost was strange, terrifying and threatening. Unlike König with all his oddness and sheer size, you felt like petting a wolf who liked to play with its food.

König on the other hand…

He would never harm you.

You thought back to your dream and your flooded room above you.

Well, König would not harm you consciously, you thought, wishing he were here now.

The door opened again, and Ghost stepped inside, bowing his head to fit his horns through the door frame.

“I got you wood and water. Start a fire. I will be back.” He declared and left again as if there was no doubt you would do as he told you.

Wondering what Ghost was doing, but too afraid to ask, you got up from your spot and did as he told you. A fire to warm your cold and damp body and to make tea for you and your apparent guest, was reasonable enough to follow Ghost words.

After a while, right as the tea was ready, you started to set the tea table for you, Ghost and König, Ghost came back with a deer.

It was dead, hanging off his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“I’ll carve it up for you. Here, I got something smaller for now.”

With big eyes and careful steps you took the skinned hare from Ghost's hands.

Meat.

You could not remember the last time you had the luxury of meat.

Quickly you started to prepare a meal after Ghost left again, cutting up the rabbit and saving every bit of it while grabbing herbs, vegetables, and grains from your storage.

Putting everything in a pot over the oven, you stepped away. Still wrapped in your blanket and feeling a bit better, you argued with yourself what to do now. Ghost could have killed you or taken you away, instead he had brought you food and made sure you were alright. You weren’t entirely sure about him but maybe it was best to treat him like you were taught to treat any guest.

With a big breath you mustered up all your bravery and grabbed a cup with tea for Ghost.

Before your house, with König’s large axe in his hands, Ghost had started to skin and cut the animal. With the blood dripping into a large blood bowl, you could not help but squirm at the sight of the horned and masked giant with blood on his hands.

“I brought you tea,” You called over and placed the delicate little cup onto the cutting block normally used by König cutting for wood.

Ghost nodded and continued his work and you went back inside.

That went well enough.

You decided to stay close to the warm oven, stirring the stew and seasoning the buckwheat with wild garlic and a precious amount of rabbit bone.

At least you will be eating well thanks to Ghost’s help. You looked up to the ceiling. König would enjoy this too. He liked trying out whatever you prepared him, always eager to have cooked food the human way, as König liked to say.

Maybe you should try to wake him up again? Fighting the thought of water right above you, and with a final measuring look at the simmering pots, you wrapped your blanket firmly around your shoulders and went upstairs. No sound except your own feet on the old wooden and creaking stairs greeted you as you made your way up and to your own bedroom door.

“König?” You tried and knocked.

Behind the door waves crashed. Storms rose and quietened again. A whole ocean threatened to flood continents.

Guess he is still tired; you thought to yourself with disappointment and went back down again.

In the kitchen Ghost was awaiting you, having finished his work in the garden he was stringing up parts of his catch up above the oven to have it dried and preserved. With Ghost's uncanny ability to grow and shrink as he pleased, you wondered if König could do that too. If he could become the giant flooding the world on your wedding day like you had dreamed. Or if he could be tiny enough to sit in your lap as you played with his ever-tangled hair.

“Still asleep?” Ghost asked and stepped away from his work.

“Aye,” You answered and busied yourself with the food instead of having to face Ghost.

Ghost watched you before sitting down like a human would have done, choosing your brother's spot like he knew where he was supposed to be.

“He will wake up soon. Don’t worry, little Bride.”

You smiled politely and nodded.

“König had always been like that. Pushing himself and overdoing it instead of asking for help.”

You blinked.

“What was there to push himself for?”

“You.” Ghosts’ words rasped over your skin like a piece of dry wood. “Our kind is strong but not invincible. Everyone can break.”

Why? I am just the bride.

“It’s been a few stressful days and König has been doing a lot,” You looked down at your hands. “He will have his various reasons for it. Not just me.”

You looked up to give Ghost your bravest smile.

“Besides, what kind of fiancé would I be if I wanted such a sacrifice?” You added.

Ghost crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

“I suppose you are right, little Bride. No love requires sacrifice to be true.”

You shifted around again, uncomfortable talking about love with a stranger, future in-law or not.

“May I ask…“ you started carefully to change the topic, “Have you been inside a human house before? You move indoors with much more familiarity than König. You did not take to the floor and you knew about tea and cooking.”

“Not everyone in the family spends their time sitting around in swamps.” Ghost replied, sounding nearly amused.

You smiled at Ghost’s little jab, remembering how clueless König could be at times.

“But you are right, little Bride.” Ghost continued, more serious now. “I once was engaged. He lived in a house not unlike yours.”

“Was? What happened?”

Ghost shrugged, his antlers softly knocking against the wall behind him.

“He vanished as spring began without a word.” He began slowly. “One morning, just as the snow had started to melt, I woke up and he was gone. No trace left to track. Nothing. There is no one better at following the trails and tracks in the forest than me. But with no clue, there is nothing to trace.”

He paused.

“The only other option left is that I, in my ravenous dreams, swallowed him whole, eating my love in one bite.”

Ghost’s dark unforgiving eyes pinned you to your spot.

“Is that really-” you squeaked but his eyes bore into you like arrows.

“That is what we are - dangerous to the delicate and fragile humans. Even if we do not intend to kill or harm, we do. You witnessed it today how different my family and you are.”

Wide eyed you looked at him, unable to move. The power of his gaze was enough to subjugate you. Despite your clothes warming up you felt cold fear wash down your back and your limbs turned heavy as if you would fall down onto the floor the moment his gaze passed from you.

“That’s why you told König I will die,” You whispered, not daring to speak up.

Ghost nodded and the intensity in his eyes vanished, allowing you to move again and you fell onto your knees.

“Are you alright?”

His words confused you, his cruel demeanour so different to these three words.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, staggering back to your feet.

The blank skull mask on Ghost's face told you nothing. But his eyes shifted and turned sorrowful.

“Actions have consequences. I will have to live with mine,” Ghost stated. “But I hope I am wrong so that König will not have to live with his. I need you to understand how vulnerable you are so that you stay alive.”

You balled your hands into fists. How dare he do this to you? Make you crawl onto the floor of your own house and tell you how weak you are.

“I am sorry about what happened, Ghost,” Your voice was shaking but it was not from fear anymore. “But König - with all his flaws - is not like you. And I am not a doll you can just throw around and mistreat. I understand that you and your family are powerful while I am not. Believe me, I am very much aware of that. But if you really want to help me, do not intimidate me in my own house. Put your act behind your words and show me how to stay alive instead of how I can die.”

Ghost stared at you.

For a moment you feared that you had misspoken and that he would just get up and wring your neck or invite the villagers in while König was asleep. Your life ran through your fingers like it was drops of water falling down. All that anger started to leave you, making you feel shaky and cold again.

“The little Bride may have no teeth or claws, but she has brain and tongue to keep herself alive,” Ghost hummed approvingly under his skull mask. “You will fit right in with us.”

He paused.

“I am sorry.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You heard me, Bride. I will not repeat myself.” He paused and something akin to mildness crept into his eyes . “What do you need me to do to stay alive?”

You swallowed.

The fear and rush of confrontation was still in your bones and you staggered to the table and to your seat like a newborn calf.

“Are you really okay with helping me?” you asked finally after a few moments of your thoughts running wild and still not believing that you had fought and won for once.

“Aye.”

You eyed the giant at your kitchen table.

“Please tell me more about the family I am marrying into, Ghost.” you asked.

He nodded.

“It is as simple as it is complicated. I don’t remember where we were from, but I remember being together as family. There were many of us, but some vanished. And some found their home far away from my forests or König’s waters, so I do not know what happened to them. But König and I were close until our nature called us away from each other. The water is as enticing to him as my forests are to me. He can not die or be harmed when he is in the water while I am strong when I walk among the trees.”

You listened intently.

“But we had another brother. He was very different from us. Graves, the Koshey. He calls himself King of Bones and Battlefields. Graves finds great liking in gaining more and he is never satisfied. However-”

Ghost eyed you pensively.

“- Graves is a great sorcerer and it is said he is immortal.”

You felt your face light up 

“König mentioned Graves. He said Graves could help me survive but was hesitant about asking him and then he was busy. I can not write so I did not do it myself but maybe Graves can tell me how I survive the presence of beings like you and König?”

Ghost hummed.

“A fair assessment. Graves loyalties and sides as he pleases. He cares little about anyone but himself and the occasional maiden he keeps in his castles.”

Ghost crossed his arms again, leaning back against the chair.

“But-” he added, “he has a thing for beautiful women and he likes to present himself as benevolent at times. It could be worth a try.”

Beautiful woman. Me?

You felt your eyes search your hands or the floor again instead of facing Ghost.

“I would like to try and get his help,” You spoke, trying to collect yourself again.

“I will write the letter for you if you want.”

You nodded and Ghost got up to get birch bark and a knife to write.

Quickly, he returned and started carving. While you tried to catch letters and words with your slow, unaccustomed eyes in between checking on the food.

I will practise, you promised to yourself as you watch in awe how quickly and fluently Ghost wrote.

After a while, he was done and leaned back.

“Would you like me to read it out to you?” he asked but you shook your head.

“You know Graves better than I ever will. I am sure you phrased it better than I could.”

And I would not know if you lied to me anyway, you mournfully thought to yourself.

Ghost nodded and passed you the rolled-up birch bark.

“Now you just need to find a way to send it to Graves.”

You lightened up.

“That won’t be a problem.” You called out and grabbed the bark. “Thank you so much.”

Quickly you turned on your heels, grabbed a dried-up fish and went outside to call the Heron.

It was lounging in the grass, cleaning its feathers.

“Fish.” The Heron stated. “You want something, Bride.”

“Am I that obvious?”

You stepped closer and sat next to the Heron in the grass.

The bird titled its head.

“I think you know the answer, Bride. Tell me what I can do for you while I eat that delicious fish in your hand and ignore what looks like a Messenger job in the other.”

You passed the Heron the fish and fixed the blanket around your shoulders.

“Would you like to have some cooked fish, too?” You asked innocently.

The Heron eyed you as it swallowed the fish in one go.

“Go on.”

“This letter needs to be delivered to my future brother-in-law, Graves.”

The Bird jolted up.

“What?! You want me to fly to the Koshey? What if he will eat me?”

“He will not.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Ghost standing in the doorway watching you.

“My brother, the Koshey, will not eat you, birdy.” He repeated. “You are too bony.”

“That’s so reassuring. Thank you so much!” The bird cried angrily. “The king of bones and battlefields is not known for his kindness. What if he feels like keeping me like he does with girls he likes?”

“You are the messenger of the future Vodynitza.” Ghost explained with annoyance in his voice. “As part of the Queen of Under the Water’s entourage and as a court messenger, you have protection.”

“I am more of a jester if you think you can send me to that wretched place!”

“You will quickly turn into an appetiser for me if you don’t start flapping your wings-”

“Please,” You interjected, giving Ghost a begging look for him to shut up, and turning back to the Heron.

“I am sorry I am asking for so much from you, Heron,” You started, laying your words out carefully. “It sure sounds terrifying. But do you really think Graves would start a fight with König and I simply because he feels like it? He sounds more like the clever type.”

The bird flopped back down.

“I suppose you are right,” It replied weakly.

“And you are a messenger carrying my letter. I would take great offence if something happened to you. And that would anger König.”

“Yes,” It croaked.

“See, you will be safe.”

The Bird rattled with its beak.

“Fine.” It gave in. “But I want soup once I am back. Shchi. Warm one. And made by you.”

“Consider it done, Heron. I will serve it in the most beautiful chalice I can find.”

The Heron staggered up and stretched its wings.

“Wish me luck, queen.”

“I am not yet- “you tired but the bird snatched the letter from your hands and took off.

With quick flaps the Heron rose into the sky and disappeared.

You watched from your spot before getting up and turning back to the house.

Ghost was still watching you.

“You are doing well for a delicate little human Bride.”

You gave Ghost a forced grimace.

“I am just trying my best.”

He grumbled something before stepping out of your door again and watched the treeline, listening to the song birds. The dark forest was inviting, its branches waving invitingly to come closer. It was like Ghost had changed from a man, odd and terrifying and full of powers you did not understand, to the Leshy. As if just the sight of the dark green rejuvenated him. Was this how König felt, too? How he craved to and needed to be in the water, in the swamps, in the rivers and ponds to feel like he was supposed to be? You thought back to the sleeping König and how peaceful he had looked as the water slowly filled your room. How much more he had looked like himself. 

“I need to go back soon.” Ghost rasped like an old oak. “Let’s try to wake up König one more time.”

Cultural Context Notes:

 Quick reminder that hair weaving or braiding is a traditional way of wearing longer hair in many Slavic cultures and due to imprecise translations, it can mean all types of braided hair styles.

I was thinking about using old church Slavonic for their little banter but using Russian was easier, sorry.

The somewhat random binary about men’s or women’s work is not really a thing when looking closer at history. Yes, plenty of women were expected to make clothes and do crafts. But so were men if they had the time and skill. Ghost stitching and crafting a Kokoshnik is not that off. 

I understand that not everyone is comfortable with meat as food or thinking about animals as something consumable. I have a hard time with it too. But meat was, and is, an incredibly luxurious item for people in central and eastern Europe, especially when it’s wild game. Daily meals historically included much less amounts of meat than most consume today because it was so expensive or hard to get. Wild game even nowadays is reserved for special occasions like Christmas or birthdays. And a Leshy bringing hunting meats when König as a Vodyanoy brings fish to Bride, is very coherent.

Yes, blood bowls are a thing. My grandparents have some as heirlooms from their parents who owned a farm and animals. But while these very wide, massive and simple bowls are perfect to catch and contain slaughter blood, nowadays they are primarily used as fruit bowls at my grandparents' place. However, I thought I’ll include this little detail because many people aren’t familiar with items that were used for food processing at home. Also, blood is used in several dishes to really use up everything from an animal. I am most familiar with the German style blood sausage but it appears to be a thing in other cultures as well to not waste very nutritious parts of the animal.

It's wild garlic season here but please be careful while collecting it. It’s easy to mistake it for poisonous plants like lilies of the valley.

Salt and plant-based fats were extremely expensive and hard to come by not long ago in central and eastern Europe, so a lot of seasoning included using the natural salt and fat content of animal products. I am only slightly sorry that this is slowly turning into educational historical cooking commentary. Also, I have to mention at this point that I am a vegetarian.

Plenty of eastern-European fairy tales have heroes with different qualities than in the central-European tradition. Being honest, knightly, and virtuous are qualities that are appreciated. Many of the main heroes regularly lie, cheat, or trick their way into luck. Being lazy or slow but still making it, is a regularly celebrated feature of many heroes in eastern-European tales. The reasoning is that due to the hero’s smarts and charisma they are good because they end up doing the good thing e.g. saving the princess or slaying the dragon. In comparison in more central-European tales the heroes are being “born good” and always make the right decision with their moral compass never being challenged or evolving because they are already perfect, therefore they are the heroes.

Shchi / Russian: щи is a type of soup. I only knew it as a fish soup but apparently there are meat versions of it as well and the fish version is only eaten during fasting times or when meat is not available. It’s a cabbage-based soup with some form of protein like fish or meat cooked with flour, cabbage, and spices. I included this because it’s an old food that has been around since the 9th century in the Kievan Rus. Also, this recipe is fascinating generally. Its name comes from the word "съто" which means so much as satisfied or not hungry anymore and apparently was a popular travelling food because it can be frozen and cut up in portions as needed. The last part is a bit funny but considering the continental climate in many eastern European and central Asian regions it absolutely checks out that foods mirror the climate they originate from.

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[silver-ink-iron-words]

“Are you happy, in this relationship?”

The protagonist’s entire body stilled. “Of course.”

“Really? Because I’m not.”

The two of them were in the most romantic setting the protagonist could think of – a little boat winding lazily down a gentle river, shaded by lush forest on both sides. It was bathed in the soft golds and pinks of early evening.

“I can be better,” the protagonist said.

But their soulmate only smiled. “That’s impossible, dear. You’re already perfect.”

The protagonist’s chest tightened as though boulders were piling atop it.

“You’re smart,” the soulmate went on. “You’re kind. You get my sense of humour. And you have this way of viewing everything . . . [Protagonist], it’s breathtaking to see the world from your eyes.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“You’re my perfect puzzle piece. The matching shoe . . . all that dumb stuff they said about soulmates. But this . . .” They gestured to the romantic scenery. “I wasn’t meant for this.”

The protagonist stared at the slow churning water. “Are you breaking up with me?”

The soulmate gave an infuriating shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Well, alright then.” The protagonist laughed, tight and bitter. “Just tell me when you decide whether or not you’re going to ruin my life.”

“See, this is what I hate about having a soulmate. About being a soulmate. Why do I have to be this wonderful, amazing thing for someone else? The thing you need to live, apparently. Why can’t I just be a person?”

“I never asked you to stop being a person.”

“I’m not making myself clear.” The soulmate sighed. “Just, doesn’t it strike you as odd that they never presented this soulmate thing to us as a choice? Like, of course we were destined to find each other. Of course we’d want to be together forever.”

“Well yeah. That’s what a soulmate is.”

“You’re never just . . . absolutely furious that no one ever told us there were other ways to be happy? That we didn’t have to do this?”

“You’re still not making sense. What could be better than a soulmate?”

“I don’t know. Dinner parties. Family road trips. A bunch of friends sitting around a campfire, getting high together ’til the sun comes up.”

“Those are all things the two of us can do together.”

“But they’re also things we can do with everyone else. Fuck, [Protagonist]. Give me one reason why I have to value one person over literally everybody else in my life. Why do people always insist that I need a soulmate?” Their eyes glistened, and their voice was hitched. Almost pleading. “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting fucking brainwashed.”

“Right. Because loving your own soulmate is brainwashing.”

The soulmate leveled a stare at them. “Do you even love me?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re good at hiding it. And you never take it out on me. Which, in my own way, I love you for. But I’ll see the dark circles under your eyes. And the moments when you go really quiet. And the mornings where we wake up together, and I can tell that it actually hurts you to talk to me.”

“[Soulmate] . . .”

“Tell me right now that you’re happy, and I’ll believe you.” Their eyes bore into the protagonist. “I’ll never question you on it again.”

The protagonist paused. They had what they wanted, right?

The soulmate seemed to imagine an alternative life for themself full of people and community. But in the protagonist’s darkest hours of the night, they imagined . . .

The mud soft beneath their boots, the invigorating rain splashing their face. The smell of rich, dark soil. The sound of wind in the treeline. Of twittering, of rustling, of life. The budding spring branches, reaching like children’s hands up into the infinite sky.

The protagonist, alone. Just them and the wide-open world. It wasn’t lonely, never lonely. It was a freedom, the likes of which they’d never actually known.

But still.

The protagonist peered steadily at the person they’d always been fated for.

I can’t be the fuckup who couldn’t make it work even with my own soulmate. 

“I’m happy,” the protagonist lied.  

----

Loosely inspired by this post by @aromantic-spinda

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer 

#aro #aromantic #amatonormativity #aspec #a-spec #aromantic spectrum #aromanticism #writing snippet #writeblr #snippet #aroace #aroallo #queer #lgbtqia #queer writing #sorry that this one was a bit heavier than my typical aro/ace stories #but sometimes i really just want to vent the negative #this has actually been sitting in my drafts folder for a LONG time #longer than most of you have been here #i really wanted to make sure that i was expressing my ideas in a way that made sense to people #hopefully i succeeded #not a prompt

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting Ch.9- Courtship

T/W: Alucard(Ultimate) x F!Reader, fluff alert!, romance, heights, “kidnapping.” Lonely, mild vampire. Alucard is a shithead and you can’t even be mad.  Words: 4120 On AO3

Thank you for over 250 kudos! Not to mention all the comments and (mostly private 🤣) bookmarks and subscriptions! And the likes and reblogs too! The reception this story gets continues to astound and humble me. An incomplete fic getting all this attention! Who would have thought?! This chapter is one of the ones I wanted to write for several months. It took so long to post because I saw a scary movie trailer (“The Exorcist”) and then I was too spooked to sit in the living room alone to write at night for over a week.  I hope you guys enjoy it! As of this chapter, this story is now my longest piece of writing.

“This place is incredible.” Everywhere you inspected continued to inspire awe. From the paintings on the walls, to the details on the ceilings, or the shininess of the floors, the restaurant was lavish in the most tasteful of ways from every angle.

You finally accepted Alucard’s invitation to the Shangri-la. Fortunately, you never took him up on his prior offer to feed you properly every night. You were like a duck sitting in a nest of swans. You could dress like the rest of the patrons and act gracefully enough, but this sort of grandeur would never suit you.

A portion of the restaurant was sectioned off for your private use with Alucard, which brought about another problem. While you were thankfully shielded from the prying and admiring eyes of other guests towards your companion, you were also stuck in a public setting where you were forced to interact with him. 

You were on a date with a freaking vampire. This just wasn’t how you envisioned life would turn out.

Most of the meal consisted of him watching you eat while he sipped wine from an engraved crystal glass set on a stem of gold. Such extravagance. You weren’t one to complain though. The food was divine, the complex flavours melted into your tongue and you nearly moaned as you swallowed. 

“I see you are enjoying your meal,” he observed. The light reflected off the orange lenses of his sunglasses at such an angle that you couldn’t see his eyes through the glare. But his grin was ever-present.

Honestly, it didn’t even seem like the vampire was attempting to impress you with the fancy scenery. He was completely at ease and disinterested in the setting, like he was born into grandeur such as this. Opulence was simply a natural backdrop he was used to being surrounded by.

"Soo…vampires can turn opposite sex virgins into baby vampires, but if they bite a non-virgin, they become zombies instead?"

"That is correct."

"Who decided on this? Why does being a virgin change anything?" Maybe he was a pervert who was insecure about his sexual prowess.

The said ‘pervert’ chortled and set down the wine before his glasses followed, mirth glittering in those liquid pools. They were the colours of the autumn leaves that filled the lush treeline with spectacular shows of foliage a month ago. "You will never cease to amuse me little one. I assure you, I didn't create this rule, but it is the one we must abide by."

Damn vampire getting in your head again. The lack of mental privacy was aggravating, especially when you recalled the night he glimpsed your moment of insanity, when the briefest thought of intimacy with him flitted across your mind. 

"This rule is stupid," you told him defiantly.

The grin stretched wider, the tips of two sharpened canines poking through. “I am inclined to agree.”

You had the feeling he was reading your mind again and while you didn’t want to verbalize how much it bothered you, knowing it would predispose him to doing it more frequently, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Stay out of my head! You’re being rude!” You stabbed a morsel of meat with a fork.

He merely chuckled at your reaction. “I can attempt to refrain from doing so, but humans are so fascinating.”

“You were human! Have you forgotten what that was like? Anyways, you are planning on turning me into a zombie?!” If that was the goal, with his superpowers, he could have done so already, with or without your consent. But that didn’t make sense because he saved you from a crowd of ghouls!

An elegant brow lifted. 

So you elaborated. “You keep trying to convince me to sleep with you and you just drank my blood! You want to bite me!”

Alucard howled with laughter and pinned you with a pointed look. “You truly are fascinating, little human.”

You bristled with indignance at the way he found humour in everything you said and did, irritation making your skin turn hot. What was the point in coming here tonight if all your date did was mock you? Ever since you met this creature, it was one supernatural encounter after the other. It was all made worse by how he was privy to your myriad of thoughts. Slamming a vexed glare back to him, you found the vampire with his face propped up on a fist, staring at you with a soft expression. A tiny smile tilted the corner of his lips.

He was teasing you. And you fell for it. You felt like a foolish schoolgirl as your ire deflated, but goodness, how can anyone look so gorgeous? It was too unfair. Your fork slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, not that you wanted to stick cutlery in his face anymore.

One moment he antagonized you and the next he gazed at you like that. You swallowed your displeasure and sat up straight, eager to recover some face.

"Then how about you? Do you have a sire?"

Something changed in his expression. His eyes dulled and the smile fell a fraction, as if he really didn't like thinking about this aspect of his past. Recalling how comfortable he was with the brutal slaughter of the undead, you realized he must have an extended history with violence and bloodshed. Alucard was dangerous, and you didn’t mean what he was capable of doing to you. It seemed there were secrets in this world larger than the existence of vampires and ghouls. Concern about what you were getting yourself into if you spent more time with this vampire crossed your mind. 

But as you studied his face carefully and his mild gaze slid back to yours, suddenly you felt guilty for asking about things he wasn’t ready to share.

“Um, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

"To be or not to be, that was the question," he finally murmured cryptically.

Huh? Shakespeare?

Was Alucard referring to his decision to turn, to become a vampire? But you doubted someone so sophisticated would miss the deeper meaning behind those words and misquote Hamlet. 

…Did he too wish for death? Ironic for someone who already died once. His choice of words bothered you, but you weren’t in the headspace to ponder this point further at this time. The orangey-yellow in those mesmerizing pits swirled slowly as he studied you. The silence stretched long during this intimate moment, when you felt closer to him than he probably ever allowed anyone. You didn’t want to let it simply slip away.

“Do…do you ever miss being human? Or seeing the sun?” You ventured cautiously, not wanting to push him away when he was letting you view this other side of him, so different from his usual cockiness and menace.

“Silly child, you do not comprehend the preciousness of your humanity, nor the curse of so-called immortality.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but no, he was right, you never stopped to ponder your humanity. It was such an intrinsic part of you that was taken for granted.

“Alucard, how old are you?”

His expression once again filled with amusement despite his gaze remaining warm. “I have seen over five centuries come and go.”

Okay that was really old. Much older than you assumed. Your eyes dropped from his piercing stare as you thought back to all those times this ancient creature chased you around and attempted to woo you. Was it strange for something so old to court someone your age? Then again, were there many other ancient vampires for him to choose from? Human standards probably didn’t apply any longer.

“I haven’t lived through the ages like you, and I don’t know where I was trying to go with this conversation, but maybe I was just trying to say that I miss the day. It’s…sometimes difficult to always work at night, especially now that it’s winter. The nights are long –it’s dark when I leave home and dark when I return. And then my body is so confused once the shifts are over and too soon, it’s time to switch back to a daytime schedule.”

Alucard leaned back and crossed his legs, his chin tilting up as he regarded you. “The garish light of day will never compare to the beauty of the black night. Her generous velvet wakes the imagination and makes the senses come alive.”

“The blanket of night hides creatures such as yourself,” you stated flatly.

In his eyes, a mysterious light shone. His attention was entirely devoted to you. This vampire was genuinely interested in your words. You squirmed in your seat under the intensity of that sparkling gaze, totally unprepared for the weight of his scrutiny and you wondered what he saw in you. Unlike him, you weren’t made to live in darkness.

“When the sun rises above the horizon and beats back the darkness, or when its dying rays fade away for the night, it paints the most dazzling gradient of colours across the sky. Even at high noon, the world comes into sharp contrast through a sea of cerulean. Daylight is warm, bright, comforting.” 

“...”

You sighed in exasperation. “Do you truly not miss the beauty of daytime at all?”

"No. I despise the sun. It is a mercy that each day must die." 

You laughed sheepishly. "Ahaha. I guess debating this point is moot. You're a vampire after all."

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

The rest of dinner flew by smoothly. Alucard could wield his words like a dagger, yet there was artistry in the way he spoke, an old world pattern to his speech that at times sounded like riddles holding profound meaning beyond your understanding. His intellect was captivating. You were surprised by how pleasant the conversation was when he wasn’t intentionally seeking to get a rise out of you.

He wasn’t so bad at all.

Besides the server who occasionally came to check in on the two of you, you were alone. Before you knew it, you reached out to brush away the stray strands of hair hiding an eye that gleamed like the fiery sun he so hated. Your hand twitched when you caught what you were doing, yet you don't pull away. Neither did he. After a moment, your hand dropped to cradle his cheek.

The vampire’s eyes widened fractionally before dropping to half-open. He sighed and leaned into your touch. His skin was cool, but it wasn’t unpleasant to touch. You traced circles on that strong jaw that captivated you the first time you got a good look at him in your kitchen.

Alucard was crooning and purring, nuzzling his face into your palm. The back of your fingers on your other hand rubbed up his throat to stroke his chin. 

Distantly, the server returned with something you asked for. You couldn’t remember what it was, but they left promptly when Alucard’s gaze fell on them. His hand gripped yours to keep it on himself when you tried to pull back.

"More. Touch me," he demanded. 

So you played with his hair, twirling the lustrous tresses between your fingers and massaging his scalp. You boldly traced a finger down one of his fangs, grazing the sharp tip with the lightest touch. He stayed very still for you with his lips slightly parted and lidded eyes glowing fiercely. 

It occurred to you that he was very much like a cat. He liked to nuzzle his face on you, purred like an engine, and was constantly sniffing around. He loved body heat and being pet, and had slit eyes that often blinked slowly at you. 

Would he let you? You lifted a finger at him, making the rumbling vampire follow it curiously with his head tilted. You gingerly pressed the pad to his nose before pulling away. His eyes opened up before a content grin spread over his face, and he brought his face closer to bump the tip of his nose against your fingertip again.

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

It was getting late, but Alucard insisted on having you stay up with him, stating there was somewhere he wanted to show you. Imagine your shock when he immediately scooped you into his arms before you could rescind your begrudging agreement and began leaping impossible distances from building to building. The wind cut through your jacket and chilled you down to the bone. It was not meant for the weather of these late winter nights. 

Your hair billowed into your face and filled your mouth. You barely heard yourself shriek through the howling wind as you clung to the vampire’s shoulders while he took you soaring through London from up high. You peered down at the sea of lights at your feet and gulped nervously. The ground was so far away! 

This wasn’t the kind of commute I had in mind! You desperately thought to him.

His smirk was devious when he gazed down. You are safe with me. He told you with a squeeze to your legs for reassurance.

With no other warning, you were suddenly thrown into the air and you screamed bloody murder at the loss of your anchor as you started to free fall –the wind whistled into your ears and slipped past your splayed fingers. The loose ends of your clothing flapped uselessly as you plummeted back to the earth…only for your flailing body to be quickly bundled into Alucard’s red duster to protect you from the winter chill. 

He was grinning like a maniac as you landed back in his arms with a squawk. You stared back in betrayal with huge frightened eyes and resisted the urge to smack him, but only because you didn’t want to risk him dropping you again for fun. 

Still he ran, jumped, and landed on various structures, sometimes sideways or even upside down. The rapid changes in direction was disorienting and made the cutting wind slap against you, so you clenched your eyes. The laws of gravity did not apply to him. With your arms trapped within the heavy jacket, neither were you able to grab onto him for safety as the two of you hung from another overpass while Alucard traversed its underside. You were forced to trust the vampire not to let go of you. 

Somehow, you barely felt each landing before he jumped again. The longer you lay in his embrace, the more apparent it became that the ride was surprisingly smooth. 

Land. Jump.

You must now be nearing the outskirts of the city. How did he know where you were going? 

You felt the derisive snort in your head. Humans today, so lost and helpless without your electronic devices. He stopped on the rooftop of a house.

"Look there, little one," his fingers weaved a pattern in the air and you followed their trail without seeing the constellation. "Do you see that? That is Ursa Minor, which may be hard for your mortal eyes to visualize with the city lights, but that bright star at the end is Polaris. It has many names dating from antiquity. You might also know it as the North Star or Guiding Star."

He looked at you expectantly like he wanted to tell you more, but sighed and hopped off and continue his jumps when you stared at him blankly, unable to pinpoint exactly which specks in the sky he was pointing at.

Gradually, you abandoned the light pollution of the city and the sky became inky black. There was no longer any light at your feet, only the darkest abyss that was entirely opaque. Your racing heart and gasping breaths eventually eased during Alucard’s leisurely journey through the city. Together, you sailed through the sky, ascending and falling in an endless loop. It was intimidating, but the vampire’s grip was strong. You huddled into his chest, at last feeling secure cradled like treasure in his arms. 

You were blind to what was below, but up above, the vast, glittering expanse of sky stretched to infinity. Billions of twinkling stars smiled down. You considered the planets that surrounded them, as well as the moons that orbited those. You thought of the galaxies out there, yet knew what was visible was only a tiny window into the universe that existed. It was all so close when Alucard leapt into the air again, and you reached out to grasp it. 

You were so small in this world. The existential humbling was profound, yet also exciting. The night sky promised adventure and filled you with vigour. The wind still stung your face, but you screamed in joy, at the freedom granted by the stars themselves as you drifted amongst them.

That exhilaration ground to a halt when you finally arrived at your destination with Alucard.

A private airport? 

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

“What are we doing here, Alucard? Where are we going?” You faced him in alarm.

“Faroe Islands,” he instructed the pilot waiting by the aircraft as he sauntered up the ramp to a jet with you in arms. You started kicking your feet in protest.

“I-isn’t that Denmark? Y-you’re just going to spirit me away to another country in the middle of the night?!”

The vampire finally set you down on a plush seat while he settled in the one across from yours. You jumped up and attempted to unroll yourself from Alucard’s duster in a frenzy, only to get tangled in the lengthy garment pooled around your feet and nearly tumble over.

“I don’t have my passport!” Any reason to dissuade him from his crazy idea. This was madness!

“Don’t worry about it.” A wine bottle floated up to arm’s reach and uncorked itself. He tipped it into a long-stemmed glass and offered it to you. You didn’t take the drink.

“You are afraid, Sweet?” He cocked a brow at you with a challenge.

You sputtered and glared at him with disbelief. “What? You’re acting like you didn't suddenly drop this trip on me! You can’t just steal me away to a different country! And I’m going to freeze to death! Do you know how far north that place is?! When are we coming back tonight? Are we returning to London tonight? Is this even allowed?!”

The vampire paused to consider, “Integra may be displeased, but there will be no issue,” he chuckled to himself.

You continued to gawp at the ridiculousness of the situation before opening your mouth to argue again. This was definitely not how you envisioned any first date, even with this creature, would proceed.

“You are fretting over nothing, Dear.” He placed a finger to your lips gingerly and strapped you into the seat for takeoff, still mostly bundled like a burrito in his jacket.

Eventually, your indignance and dismay passed. It was just like Alucard to do whatever he wished and force whoever was part of his plan in line. ”We’re going to fly past all of Scotland, and not even visit Edinburgh Castle or Loch Ness. Or the Isle of Skye!” You pouted wistfully. 

The vampire sipped his wine, his legs crossed and posture casual, until you decided to join in. After all, he already had a bottle to himself earlier. Wriggling out of the encasing scarlet prison, you took hold of your glass with a stiff fist and gulped it down in one mouthful, much to the vampire’s amusement.

You continued to grumble about being dragged out to the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold and dead of winter. 

Two hours and several glasses of wine later, the jet was landing. You felt the pressure in your ears. Alucard stood and headed for the side of the jet where the storage was, revealing a bundle of winter attire. He returned to offer everything to you.

You walked out together onto a snowy field atop a cliff, overlooking…well, it was too dark to see anything. No doubt the sight would have been spectacular if this was during the day. Waves crashed down below from what you heard and the skies were clear.

“So? You brought us here. Now what?” Displeasure at being kept awake at this hour made you snippy. The feeling was accentuated by the frosty puffs with every breath you took. There was no way Alucard brought you to the middle of nowhere only because he could, right? Right?

”Patience. They are supposed to appear tonight.”

The jet rumbled in the silence. Staring in the direction of its beam of lights, you rubbed your eyes to refocus and made out vague shapes of something. Edging closer in that direction, you gasped at the dramatic mountainous landscapes in the distance. They were marvelous, even in the dimness. The jet lights died abruptly, leaving you in darkness, except it wasn’t black. The canvas that made up the heavens came into even starker contrast than in the suburban cityscape. Glimmering starlight splattered every visible inch in the sky.

This was also a desolate location. You were far from any other souls, in a world belonging to only you and him (minus the pilot). You hunkered down in your jacket and boots, glad to finally be in proper winter attire, then looked back at Alucard with a questioning stare after glancing up to admire the speckled expanse again.

The air was too crisp. The tip of your nose stung and was beginning to run. It was freezing. The wind was even worse than the subzero temperature. Burying your gloved fingers within the crook of your crossed arms, you sniffled, resisting the urge to wipe yourself on the back of the hand. 

Your eyelids started to droop. What time was it? It shouldn’t have been long since you arrived.

“There.”

Your eyes shot up and were blessed by the most miraculous vision. A translucent layer of green light undulated in the heavens. The ribbons of light swayed ever so slowly, a ghostly apparition haunting the land. Your eyes widened at the extraordinary show, a feeling of tranquility overcoming any prior exhaustion, and your lips fell open slightly in awe. Coherent thought ground to a halt.

How can anything in the world be so breathtaking? You took back every negative comment you made during the trip here. Everything Alucard put you through tonight was worth experiencing the Northern Lights.

"Isn't it remarkable?" The vampire also appeared to be at peace, a small smile gracing his lips. When did he come this close? His large palms went around your hips as he found his place at your back. He unexpectedly placed a kiss to your neck under the scarf and you jumped from the frigid caress.

His affectionate laughter subsided as you huffed. “Rest assured, I have no intention of biting you. You will not become a ghoul with me.” His whisper sent cold air tickling your ears. He withdrew from your side to let you enjoy the view.

Having trusted him the entire night already, the vampire behind you was no longer a cause for worry. The lightshow remained enchanting. You basked in the carefree, electric dance of the auroras above and felt your tension releasing. This was transcendent. 

Your eyes finally adapted to the faint lighting. In this darkness, the aurora borealis casted a sublime glow on Alucard. His features were pale, yet refined. You blinked. His silky midnight tresses reflected the light’s radiance in a circle, almost like he was crowned by a halo. He looked like an angel.

What were you thinking? You weren’t.

You took the half-step needed to close the distance between you and leaned towards him, your head barely reaching halfway up his chest. But you craned your head way up to drown in those ruby irises, for the first time seeing him in a new light. Getting up on your toes, you initiated the kiss softly, tentatively. It was exploratory and chaste when you brushed up against his chest with a feathery touch.

His lips were cool and smooth and tasted like fine wine. Your fingers found their way into his lapels to tug him in as his palms found your hips. He was just too tall and your neck hurt. Starting with a light peck, like you were seeking permission, you deepened the kiss when he didn’t protest. Again and again, you pressed gentle kisses to his mouth.

It was an eternity until you pulled apart. There was no need for additional words. You turned to take in the heavens on earth again. His arm draped around your shoulder to pull you nearer and you leaned in with your face resting on his chest. His chin dropped on top of your head.

For now, this was enough for both of you.

~To be Continued~

Next Chapter- What Makes a Meal?

#alucard fanfiction #alucard hellsing #alucard x reader #alucard x you #hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #male yandere #hellsing alucard

[moonchildstyles]

ALSO for citrine!h something super soft would melt my heart. like maybe his girl suffers from really awful periods or something that are always super painful and exhausting and one month it just hits her so hard and h is just so caring and nurturing to her. 🥺❤️ he looks in all his books for special herb teas and different soups he can make to help her feel better and he lays in bed and rubs her tummy and her back when she has cramps STOP IM SO

could you write something with citrine and /or aster harry about the reader getting her period with him and not feeling well? love ur writing&lt;3

wordcount: 11k+

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Harry felt his heart tingle, the lure attached to the organ trying to pull him away from his garden and down the side of his mountain to where the rest of his soul awaited. A bright smile bloomed across his features. 

(Y/N) was almost here.

She had rang him on his sunflower a couple of hours prior, telling him she needed to take care of a couple of errands and pack for the night before she would be on her way over, and he'd been waiting in his garden since. The flowers all around him perked up just as their creator did, following the ray of sunshine he had become for them as he stretched his legs. The bell bottoms of his trousers flourished with every step he took towards the edge of his clearing, his heart roaring the closer and closer to his beloved he became. 

Just as he was about to burst through the treeline, the carrier of his soul beat him to it, her own features set into a glowing smile. 

"Hi, honey," she beamed at him, dropping her overnight bag into the lush grass at their feet. His already sore heart beat a broken tune at the sound of the petname he'd only ever heard wrapped in her voice. 

She launched herself into his opened arms as soon she was free of the weight of her bag, the wind being knock out of Harry for just a moment as he stumbled back before recovering. He fiercely reciprocated her hold, keeping his sunshine close enough to his chest his heart didn't ache so much trying to get to its companion housed in (Y/N)'s chest. 

"Sunshine," he sighed with matching relief. It'd only been thirty-six hours since he'd last been with her, and yet it felt like it could have been weeks with the way a newfound sense of comfort settled over him like nothing had before.

Seeing her like this would never get old. 

He allowed her to pull away just enough to see her face, trace his eyes over her features in commemorative runs. He needed to know if anything changed since he'd seen her last, anything else for him to add to the collection of things like fluttering lashes and stray baby hairs that now made his heart race. 

"How are you? How was class? Did your presentation go alright?" he prattled off as he raised his hands to cradle her cheeks in his warm palms. Her aura radiated around her in buttery yellows and sweetened pinks—his favorite combination on her. 

"I'm good, it was good," she told him, her smile going soft as she seemingly did the same in taking in his aura, "I honestly don't remember much of it because I was so nervous, but I'm assuming it went well since I wasn't called in for office hours after." 

Harry's face soured at the reminder of her professor who was much too harsh on his sunshine in his opinion. "Oh yeah, it was for that class, I forgot," he muttered, shaking his head, "He better leave y'alone, you're the smartest person in the world let alone his little classroom. Needs to be nicer to you." 

The grin on (Y/N)'s face burst into an affectionate laugh at his serious tone. "It's alright, H, don't worry," she assured him, her looped arms squeezing around his middle, "I only have a couple more months of this semester, then I never have to see him again." 

"And, you'll be on break with me," Harry added with a dreamy sigh. Though he wasn't one for the colder months, typically thriving under the sun of summer and sweet air of spring, there was nothing he loved more than spending (Y/N)'s breaks with her, even the winter one. 

"Mhm," she hummed, a glint flaring in her gaze that matched the flash of chipper orange that ribboned through her aura at a second glance, "Unless, you're working, of course." 

Bubbling excitement forged its way through Harry's system at her words. His hands fell to her shoulders, rings glinting in the bright sunlight overhead. 

"Wait, did they—"

Before Harry could even finish his question, (Y/N) bounced in her spot, a beaming smile scrunching her eyes and creating parenthetical lines on either side of her mouth. "Yes, yes! They called today when I was in class, and, H, they loved you! They left a message and offered you the job, you just need to call them back!" 

Gathering her into a hug, Harry barred his forearms around her shoulders as he rocked them in their spot. "Really? They loved me?" Harry bubbled off, his words traveling through the strands of her hair that fluttered around the home he made in her neck. 

"They said they appreciated how much you knew about all the classics, and they could tell you really loved just being there with all the records. They said they really want you on their team, H." (Y/N)'s voice rattling off all the compliments supposedly shared by his new employers sounded sweeter and a more compelling offer than what he was sure awaited him on her tiny cell phone. 

Harry basked in the feeling—the feeling of being in his beloved's arms, the feeling of taking another tiny step back into the world he rejected, and the feeling of being so loved in that moment he swore his heart was to burst. All he needed was Bonnie circling their feet and Dandelion bundling up between his ankles and it would be his idea of heaven.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry." 

That just about melted him. Harry could only hug (Y/N) tighter. 

"Thank you, sunshine. 'S all for you," he murmured, telling her the same thing he did when he told her he applied, got the call for an interview, and returned back from that first meeting. It was the truth, anyway. If not for her, he would still be hermitting away in his cottage, never having had a chance to feel so loved and needed like he did in that moment. 

(Y/N) drew away, Harry barely allowing her the room before relenting his grip on her. Her eyes shone with pride, a matching, colorful aura haloing her form. "Kiss?" 

He didn't even have to think before he was pressing his lips to hers, a garden growing in his chest at the contact. His arms around her form shifted until he was cradling the sides of her neck in his palms, thumb running along the line of her jaw in affectionate passes. Harry kissed her in small bursts of gentle presses, imprinting the feel of her lips against his own. 

When (Y/N) made the move to draw away, Harry had to stop himself from chasing after her lips, a pout forming on his own before he saw the light in her eyes as she gazed up at him. She really was his own personal sunshine. 

"Why don't you give them a call back, and I'll go put my stuff away and say hi to the girls?" (Y/N) proposed, Harry relenting to move his kissing to the soft of her cheek as she spoke. 

"One more, one more, sunshine," he mumbled, already replacing his mouth over hers as soon as he got the plea out. 

(Y/N) kissed him as best she could through her smile, keeping true to the promise of one more before she was pulling away and out of his embrace. She offered him her phone with a here!, sure he would finagle some sort of spell to cast around the device if he didn't immediately get what she called "service" up here. (Harry wasn't sure exactly what service was, but he knew that the set of bars up top needed to be filled in if he wanted to do anything other than take photos). 

His hands were jittery as he navigated her cell phone, finding the voicemail that was left for him. (Y/N) had been right, they seemed to really like him and Harry was all but bouncing in his boots as he placed a charm on her device that allowed him the "service" to redial the phone number and connect with the shop. 

When he heard the cheery greeting on the other end of the phone, the voice of someone who would now be his coworker, Harry brightened with excitement. That would be him soon, answering the phone so he could bestow his knowledge on all things music on whoever was on the other end. With his ear trained towards (Y/N), keeping some of his attention on her as she went about his cottage, Harry bubbled through the phone calls. 

Just as he had hoped, his new employers were excited to hear back from him and it only took a few moments to get everything set up. He was now an official member of the Record Scratch Music Store, a boutique that specialized in all things music with the largest selection of records Harry had ever seen in one place. Plus, it was a part of the same plaza that (Y/N) worked at. 

As soon as he had his first day set up for the following week, Harry couldn't wait to find (Y/N) again and celebrate for a second time that afternoon. He couldn't help himself, he was so excited and proud of himself for those baby steps he was taking to become an even better beloved for her. 

He moved on quick feet towards the cottage, expecting to see (Y/N) sprawled out on his bed with Bonnie loving on her at her feet and Dandelion huddled in her lap. Instead, he found Bonnie still laid out on the porch, head resting on her paws, with Dande munching away at the mushrooms that were growing along the edge of the stoop. A furrow pinched at his brow as the heels of his boots clicked over the wooden deck of his porch, the view through the screen door revealing that she wasn't even lying on his bed or pattering through his kitchen. 

"(Y/N)?" he called as he stepped over the threshold, almost tripping over her overnight bag that had been dropped by the door. 

The bond wrapped around his heart urged him in the direction of the bathroom, the door shut tightly though light seeped out from underneath. "Just a second, Harry," (Y/N) answered back, voice sounding tight. 

Though worry gripped at his middle, Harry sunk down on the edge of his bed and waited patiently.

She wasn't sick, was she? No, Harry decided, he would have been able to tell by her aura if she was feeling ill. Right? Maybe she was changing into some comfy clothes for the sleepover they were having? But, then again, she usually didn't bother with locking herself away behind the bathroom door in those moments, much too comfortable with the fact Harry has seen and loved all of her to worry about redressing out of his view. Why would she be hiding from him, then?

It wasn't until (Y/N) was brought into his life that Harry realized he was a bit of a worry wart. Nothing could spring his anxiety the way she could with the way he was overly concerned with ensuring every bit of her comfort and happiness was protected. Those worries were usually very easily quelled with a look at her aura, golden tinges shining through that showed him that she was being truthful when she said she was fine and happy. But, until that moment came, his heart that had been waiting for her for decades didn't settle, urging Harry to find a solution to any and every scenario that ran through his head. 

That was how he found himself sitting with a bouncing leg, eyes trained on the bathroom door in wait. When (Y/N) finally emerged, she had redressed into a pair of his worn sweats, the waist and legs cuffed the same way he had to after years of wear stretching out the elastic. She didn't seem any different, hair still fluttering like a dream around her, skin glowing under his gaze, and toes still painted the buttery yellow he had done for her last week on their self-care night at her apartment. 

"Everything alright, (Y/N)?" Harry asked, rising from his spot on the bed, arms reaching out to retrieve her as she dropped her discarded clothes on the top of her overnight bag. 

"Mhm," she hummed with a nod of her head, "Why?" 

He noted the way she wouldn't let him get a peek at her eyes, and subsequently her aura, as she instead bundled into his arms. She pressed her cheek snugly against his chest, arms looped around his middle. Though he was happy to have her back in his arms, bundled in his clothes, Harry pouted as he looked down at her, worried.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Harry spoke through the stands of hair on the crown of her head, "You jus' seem sad all of the sudden. Did something happen?" 

A beat passed before (Y/N) muttered a response, "I'm not sad or anything, H, don't worry." 

"(Y/N)," he pouted into her hair, her name coming out on a whine, "You're making me worried, sunshine." 

Harry paid close attention to the way she hesitated, the way she shifted in his arms as if her thoughts were uncomfortable to keep inside. 

"Its... It's kind of... gross, H," she murmured, voice quiet. 

A pinch pulled Harry's brows together in a furrow as he listened to her. "What do you mean?" 

She sighed, but didn't offer any kind of elaboration. Harry's worry never lessened as he waited for her to form a response, only being a solid pillar for her cling and snuggle up to while she worked up to whatever she apparently feared sharing with him. Gently stroking his fingers up and down her back, he waited oh-so-patiently—just like he did during those decades he hadn't even known he was waiting to meet her. 

Finally—finally!—, (Y/N) spared him and settled her chin on his chest, allowing him to get a look at her aura once he met her gaze. An unflattering shade of yellow streamed around her form with a melancholic bruise of a blue shade running like spokes through the halo. She was embarrassed and sad, the anxiety she expressed surely going hand-in-hand with the colors tinting her aura.

"What is it, sunshine?" he murmured, bringing one of his hands up to brush over her cheek. 

Scanning over her features, Harry couldn't bite back the smile that curled the corners of his lips and brought out just the beginnings of his dimples. She was the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, even when she was holding a secret. 

"It's just..." she sighed, cutting herself off with a roll of her eyes, "Oh my god, I don't know why I'm so embarrassed. It's not even a big deal." 

Harry didn't push her as she thought aloud, only watching and taking it in as he brushed the pad of his thumb soothingly along the height of her cheekbone. He didn't take his eyes off her, making note of every eyelash, every pore, and every strand that made up his Flame. 

Because of that, it was impossible for him to miss the way her spine stiffened up before it seemed the air was pulled from her lungs. For a beat, her features were molded with creases as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force a stunted breath through her mouth. Her arms were tight around his middle, hands squeezed into fists behind his back with the fabric of his shirt getting bunched up in the grip. Just before her eyes closed, Harry caught a glimpse of a burning red searing through her aura before it flickered out. 

She was in pain. 

Before Harry had the mind to react—a healing spell on the tip of his tongue, but too muddled to be strung together through his heart-pounding fear—, (Y/N) settled. Her body relaxed, exhaustion seemingly dragging her down while Harry held her tightly. Her features unfurled, the creases and wrinkles of pain disappearing before she was left with serenely closed eyes and a deep breath being sucked in through her lips. 

"(Y/N)?" Harry murmured, worried out of his mind right then that she hadn't told him something important and now she was suffering body-aching side effects. 

"Sorry, sorry," she shook her head, hair fluttering around her face as she blinked her eyes open, "I'm okay, it was just a really bad cramp, that's all."  He could see her gearing up to tell him something else, one more thing, before she hesitated. That unflattering yellow shimmered around her form. In a last ditch effort, he watched as she shuttered her eyes with a grumpy furrow to her brows before she spoke, "I started my period last night, and it's not even a big deal, I'm just having really bad cramps this time and I'm scared I'm going to bleed on your sheets tonight on accident."

Harry listened to her rushed words, his brows pinched. He held her steady with his palms warming her cheeks, though he could argue that the hold was to anchor him more than anything. It made him ache hearing that she was so upset over something so simple, and the feeling was put on blast the second she explained the searing pain that had shot through her as cramps. 

"Sunshine," he sighed, the call of her petname puffing between the two of them. It was then that (Y/N) blinked her eyes open, already looking more exhausted than she had just a moment ago. "Are they always like this? Painful?" he prodded. He would hate to find out that this wasn't the first time she'd visited him while on her period and hid the symptoms.

"No, not always," she murmured, looking up at him, "Its only every once in a while that my cramps get really bad like this. I usually just try to stay home if they are, but I really wanted to see you this weekend." 

A heavy sigh worked its way out of Harry's lungs as he looked down at his heart's face cradled in his hands. Streaks of gold tinted her aura, honesty shining through, with an uncomfortable orange biting at the edges that showed him she still wasn't quite settled after the last string of cramps that rattled her body. Even her hold on him seemed shaky, as if it was taking every bit of her strength to keep her arms looped around him after exhaustion seeped into her muscles. 

"C'mere," he beckoned her, making a slow trail of his hands down her form until he was unraveling her knotted fingers from where they were placed behind his back and lacing them between his own. 

(Y/N) pliantly allowed him to guide her to the edge of his bed. He sat her down gently on the mattress before he crouched between her legs, knees hitting the wood floor of his cottage with his heels propped up under his bottom. Harry looked up at her with his hands warming her thighs, eyes matching her own so he could gauge her aura. 

Even without the colors radiating from her form, the creases lining her features, bags under her eyes, and the declining slope of her shoulders told him all he needed to know about how the last twenty-four hours hadgone for her. 

"Y'look so tired, dove. Why haven't y'told me sooner about this?" Harry pressed, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh of her thighs, borrowed sweatpants giving way under his grip. 

Dropping her gaze to his hands on her thighs, (Y/N) let out a bubble of laughter though the sound didn't give any light to her eyes like normal. "I thought you were always supposed to think I'm pretty; isn't that what soulmates are for?" 

"No, sunshine, you know I don't mean it like that. Always, always, always so beautiful; breaks my heart to see you sometimes, it feels so full," Harry rambled, immediately reassuring her with the truth on instinct. He even leaned up and into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "All I meant," he continued, "was that y'don't look as happy as y'usually do. Don't like seeing y'sad." 

A quiet shrug rocked (Y/N)'s shoulders. "I couldn't sleep well last night—I didn't feel good. And I woke up way too early today, but as soon as the cramps started I wasn't able to go back to sleep so I've just been waiting to come over." 

A pout pushed at Harry's lips, "I wish y'had told me over the sunflow—" 

"But it's embarrassing, H." 

"I don't see how it's embarrassing at all, sunshine, really. 'S natural." Harry didn't allow his gaze to stray from hers at all, wanting to make sure she knew that what he was saying was gospel as far as he was concerned. "Growing up with m'sister and mum, and all the women in our coven, 's not like I've never been around this. It was never anything any of them were ashamed of, either. The moon was gifting them with their connection to our Earth, in a way that only someone like you and m'family could handle. Stars know, I could never be as brave as you are to go through this every month, and yet here you are. 'S nothing y'need to be ashamed of or embarrassed about—especially around me, my love." 

Her features softened as she listened to him, her glowing aura growing gentle along with her. Baby pinks and soothed greens made their appearance around her form. 

"I didn't think about it like that," (Y/N) mumbled, peeking through her lashes to match his gaze, "I don't know why I was worried you would be weird about it, I'm sorry." 

His smile bloomed over his mouth and stretched his cheeks as he ran his palms in a soothing circuit along her thighs. "Dovie, I've been around way too long to grossed out about something like this. You've got nothing to worry about." Harry stood to the full of his height between her legs, boots settling on the wood grain of his floor. "Now, c'mere," he beckoned to her, arms opening up wide, "Gotta hug me properly now after that." 

(Y/N) rose to her feet with a smile so airy and relaxed Harry felt his heart bloat. He liked knowing that he could be one of the reasons that she released that tension that had followed her out of the bathroom. Just as promised, she wrapped her arms around his middle in an affectionate hug, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and splaying across the small of his back in the skin-to-skin contact they always craved after spending time apart. Harry felt his own muscles practically liquify at the feeling, her nails skimming his skin in a gentle brush that he recognized as her.

Stooping down just enough, Harry was able to comfortably cuddle her against his body with his arms barred around her shoulders and his face in her hair. A gentle smattering of kisses was placed at the crown of her head, the garden outside the window growing in mirroring plots. Breathing came easier when she was in his arms. 

Settling his cheek on the top of her head, Harry allowed his eyes to flutter to a close. As much as he loved having her cuddled up like this—flush against his body as their chests swayed in tandem as they breathed—he couldn't get the look of her exhausted gaze out of his mind. 

Though he tried to maintain as much contact as he could, Harry slipped his arms from around her, taking a careful step back before he grabbed for her hands to tangle his fingers through. "Cuddle?" he asked her, looking down at his Fated, their matching polished fingers bundled between them. 

A light returned to her irises at his line of question, nodding her head with the edges of her mouth turning up into a quirked smile. It was Harry's pleasure guiding her onto his creaking mattress, the fluffiest of his pillows being used to cushion her head before Harry followed through on his proposition.

The air was a little too warm to call for the need of the quilt stretched over his mattress, but that didn't deter Harry from becoming his own version of a human duvet with a heavy arm falling across (Y/N)'s waist. The span of his palm was splayed across the small of her back as he pulled her close to his chest. It was her that tucked her face under his chin, nose nudging the dip in his collarbones just before she hooked her ankle around his own and tangled their legs. 

Fisting his shirt in her grip, (Y/N) relaxed into the cradle of his hold, Harry watching as she finally seemed to relax in what appeared to be for the first time in the last twenty-four hours if she'd been experiencing those cramps all night long. He kept his hold on her steady as he felt her energy level out, her body being lulled into what he would charm into being a restful sleep. 

Just as he felt the blink of her aura beginning to soothe itself out while she slept, (Y/N) flared awake with a tense in her back and her breath being stolen. Instinctively, she moved as if intending to curl in on herself if Harry hadn't been there to block her movements. 

"Oh, sunshine," he crooned, the words being lost in the strands of hair on the top of her head as he held her that much tighter. 

His hand on her back worked a soothing circuit along her spine, willing all of the comforting energy he could muster without a true incantation into his hand so he could push away some of pain coursing through her system. A furrow pinched his brow as the ache lingered in her bones, not quite releasing her just yet. What he wouldn't give to take this pain from her; he'd bear the burden of the cramps and exhaustion himself if he knew she wouldn't have to experience the hardest parts of this gift every month. 

Harry knew the worst of it was over for the moment when she sunk deeply into the mattress under them, her body somehow feeling heavier after that moment, her nose nudging against his collarbones as she let out a heavy breath. 

"If I could," he murmured to her, lips pressing against the crown of her head, "I would take all this away. Hate seeing y'in so much pain." 

"I know you would, H," she whispered, voice as heavy as her muscles, "And if you ever figure out how, I won't stop you." 

That brought a smile to his face at her tiny joke. It would be his lifelong mission if it came to that—finding some kind of mystical cure to what she was enduring. 

Harry didn't stop his hand from the running circuit on her back as she settled into a hopefully more successful attempt at sleeping. He stayed that way even when he felt her energy lull into a true rest. A murmured spell into her hairline ensured she would only experience comforting, happy dreams for as long as she slept with another incantation following after that would keep her resting until most of her exhaustion finally fled from her system.  

Watching over her head, the shadows around his cottage shifted and changed as the sun traced its path in the sky. Never once did Harry dare to move from the cocoon he made around his lover's body. Even when (Y/N) rolled around in his hold, pillow fluffing under her head and duvet mussing around her form, he stayed just where he was when she settled with her back clumsily pressed against his chest. Now his hand laid gentle over her stomach, the soothing energy he could manifest into his palm now working on the knot that lingered and tightened with every ache that wracked through her system. 

He only bothered with a wave of his hand when Bonnie began to whine at the screen door to be let in followed by Dande hopping behind her. His girls had grown to love (Y/N), too, so he wasn't surprised to see Bonnie nose at her arm that hung over the edge of the bed, licking at her palm just once before his lion settled into a roll on the floor, eyes on the front door as she played guard for the night. Dande took quiet steps over the creaking mattress, her budding nose puffing  as she sniffed over Harry's hand on (Y/N)'s tummy, her ears twitching. Peaking over (Y/N)'s form, Dandelion gave him a look that only his intuitive bunny could manage, as if she was well aware of what was going on and was worried like Harry. He watched with a small smile as Dande made herself into a ball that conformed with the shape of (Y/N)'s sleeping body, padding herself against the ache in (Y/N)'s tummy like she knew. 

Having all of his girls together—both of his pets even taking on a portion of helping ease (Y/N)—made Harry's heart feel so full he feared it would steal his breath. If his Flame hadn't been feeling so down in the dumps today, he would think of this as the most perfect moment, the kind that he didn't even know he had been yearning for all those years alone.

But, knowing (Y/N) was alright now, soothed enough that she could fall into a deep sleep, he felt himself being drawn into the dreamland she was currently visiting. With Dandelion standing guard at (Y/N)'s tummy and Bonnie being the protector of the front door, he figured he could take a moment and nap with his Flame.

Hopefully, he would find her even in his dreams. 

—————

It was Dande that cut his nap short as she plodded over the pillows until she was puffing her nose in Harry's face and nudging him awake. He fluttered his eyes open to the still waning sun, long shadows dancing around his cottage with (Y/N) still protected against his chest just as she had been when he fell asleep. Bonnie was a steady presence that he could just barely see over the edge of the bed, not having moved much from when he had last had his eyes opened. 

Dandelion was the only one to have moved, looking down at him from where she stood on his pillows. "What's wrong?" he murmured to her, voice deep and dredged in sleep. 

His bunny only shuffled her feet on the cushion, ears twitching. Her puffing nose never relented, dark gaze still attached to Harry as if he should have already read her mind. 

"Is there anything wrong, or did y'jus' miss me?" Harry pressed. He wouldn't be surprised to find out she was only missing the attention he gave her, and woke him up because of it.

Instead of the humph he was expecting from her, she gave a gentle thump with her back foot to the pillow under his head. If she had brows he knew they would be downturned to match grumpy attitude she was giving him. 

"Dandelion," he sighed, tightening his hold on (Y/N), "If you're grumpy that we're napping, 'm sorry, but I can let y'outside if y'want. (Y/N) needs her sleep, honey, we need to let her." 

The little bunny didn't move from her grumped perch, only shuffling her paws. Harry was just about to shoo her away, urge her to cuddle up against (Y/N) again or conjure up something fun for her to play with outside if she was so bored, until she let out that huff he'd been waiting for before leaning down and nibbling at a stray curl of his splayed over the pillow. 

A gentle tug was felt at his scalp as she pulled on the strands, just enough to get Harry's attention. The pieces clicked together then, her grumpy attitude making complete sense. 

"You're hungry?" he asked her, his voice coming out on a laugh, "Is that what you're all upset about, Dande? Could've told me, I can put something together for you, ju—" 

Before he could finish his offer, Dandelion stopped nibbling at his hair and instead rubbed her face over the top of (Y/N)'s head, her cheek smushing against the crown. Harry watched her for a second, trying to piece together this second set of information. 

"Do y'want (Y/N) to make you f—No? That's not it?" If bunnies could roll their eyes, Harry knew Dandelion wouldn't hesitate to spare his feelings. It was when she gave a short nibble to the pillowcase before twitching her ears in (Y/N)'s direction that Harry (hopefully) caught onto what Dande was trying to tell him. "(Y/N)'s hungry?" 

The little perk up in Dandelion's posture told him all he needed to know, even if he swore her eyes were telling him Duh! 

"Thank y'for telling me, honey," he cooed to her, reaching his free hand out from under his head and gentle patting between his bunny's ears. 

He didn't doubt her intuition, his Dandelion. More often than not, she was smarter than him anyway, so he didn't bother to grill her on how exactly she knew (Y/N) was hungry and that Harry needed to know immediately so he could fix that. He only gave her a lingering brush of his fingers between her perked ears that made her eyes blink to a slow close before he made careful work of removing himself from the bed. 

Harry gently unwrapped himself from around his Flame in a careful extraction, ensuring she wasn't jostled too much and stayed content in her sleep. Dandelion made her place against (Y/N)'s side, keeping her company again now that Harry knew how dire the situation was. 

Bonnie barely lifted her head from where it rested on her paws as Harry stepped over the floorboards, a grin blooming on his face that could rival the sunflowers growing along the shingles of his roof. Bathed in the buttered sunlight, the most important facets of Harry's life were threaded together on his bed. Dandelion was now happily sprawled out in comfort, feet kicked out beside (Y/N) with Bonnie being the perfect roll by the bed, the sleepiest protector. (Y/N) was still the vision of serenity as his charms were taking perfect care of her, letting his heart rest and dream perfect dreams. 

He couldn't help himself before he clicked his fingers, his gifted polaroid—arguably his most valuable and favorite possession along with his record player and vinyl collection—was summoned to him. The yellow camera was heavy in his hands as he brought the viewfinder to his eye, the vision in front of him now warped. The click and shutter of the camera going off was the only sound to fill the room before the film was printing from the slot at the front. Harry was quick to grab for it, clicking his camera back to its safe spot in his closet with a snap of his fingers. 

The photo developed slowly, though Harry's grin didn't waver as he waited. Once it came all together, he was granted with the perfect vision of what lie before him, frozen in time and his to keep for the rest of his existence. The lens had perfectly picked up on the slight gap to (Y/N)'s lips, short puffs of air falling from between them as she dreamt her sweetened dreams. Baby hairs were pasted to her temples, the strands kissing at the frame of her face the way he loved to do. The whole vision was bathed in golden tones, the perfect glimmering light that caught the high points of her face and pinged off the tips of her bare lashes as she slept with her cheek smushed into his pillow. Around her were the woodland guardians that made up the rest of Harry's small family. Bonnie emulated a warm cinnamon roll perched on the floor, slacking on her guard lion duties as she slept the afternoon away, with Dandelion a puff of white fur cuddling into (Y/N)'s tummy with a puffing nose and twitchy ears. 

Harry's heart swelled as he took in every detail. With a brush of his fingertips along the edge of the film, the photo was brought to life. The golden light filtering through the window now gleamed in sunspots over (Y/N)'s hair and sparkled as it hit the highpoints of her face. The shadows shifted as the flowers outside gently swayed in the summer breeze. It was perfect—the perfect dream that would come to Harry's mind if he had been charmed into having the most pleasant of dreams. 

Padding across the floor, being mindful of the creakiest of his floorboards, Harry made his way to the wall facing his bed. Along the wall was shimmering vines that grew in celebration of the love he held for his Flame, flowers twinkling with points of light dotted across the flora. In the gaps of the growth was all the photos he had pinned to his wall, moments with (Y/N) or his pets, shots of his garden and the moon that he never wanted to forget. Each frame displayed that moment in time on repeat—(Y/N) twirling in the meadow outside his cottage, Dandelion trying to shove her namesake plant in her mouth, Bonnie circling his feet with a whipping tail. This new photo found its place just beside a picture of (Y/N) making a kissy face at him through the lens, the frame showing off the way she laughed after making the pose. 

A broad grin made its way onto his face, dimples deep in his cheeks, smile lines creasing his face, as he trailed his gaze along the wall. Wasn't he a lucky, lucky man? 

Casting a short glance over his shoulder, he found (Y/N) still cuddled into his bed, serenely sleeping away the exhaustion that tainted her features. Dande was happily snuggled against her mom's tummy, though that didn't stop her from throwing side-eyes in Harry's direction. He knew that if she could talk, she would no doubt be hounding him for taking too long on following through her what she told him. She's still hungry, you know, he could picture her prattling off, Just because you took a picture of us doesn't mean you can get distracted.

The attitude of that little thing. He had a plan, no reason to worry. (Y/N) was going to be well taken care of, no doubt. 

Harry allowed one last lingering glance across his wall of art, before he was silently stepping away.  He needed to find his spell book, see if there was anything in there that could help ease the discomfort of (Y/N)'s cramps and hopefully gently help her through the next week. The spell he had in mind before, the incantation that instinctively came to the forefront of his mind the first second he saw her tense and in pain wouldn't be much help as she didn't have any physical wounds to heal. He needed something that would soothe her internally. 

Reaching under his bed with a careful pet to Bonnie's head, he found his large, leather bound spell book. Inside held every word that guided him through his life as a witch. His most favorite chapters were clearly marked with the worn corners and edges of the paper, those pages surely detailing out any romantic spellwork that could be performed between a witch and their Flame. Though he instinctively gravitated towards those pages, he stopped himself before he could become distracted with the looping handwriting of an ancestor he'd never met, but had the same privilege as he in meeting their soulmate. 

Instead, he followed the fading index at the front of the book, looking for healing and soothing spells and rituals. The chapter glossary directed him to "Spells needed during a Blood Moon Cycle" (which is very different from spells that are used during a Blood Moon, as many witches have made the mistake and come up with very differing results). Inside were spells he remembered his sister vaguely using, or the many other witches in his coven as he grew up, though he never felt the need to memorize them. 

Harry flipped through the pages, scanning over the results while he waited for the perfectly right spell to pop up. Short rituals to help with mood swings? No, she doesn't need that he didn't think. A spell to ward off the cycle all together? A little too late for that it seemed. A salve to help heal hormonal breakouts? Glancing at (Y/N)'s glowing skin, Harry figured he wouldn't need to worry about that one, especially if she didn't ask for it first. 

Potions to help with cramps? Perfect! 

Harry thumbed to the page, taking in the first slew of ingredients. Reading it over, this particular potion seemed a little too ancient to execute, especially with the use of a Harper's Nest being called for. (No Harpers had been seen in centuries, let alone any remaining nests on Earth). Flicking to the backside of the same page, he found a much more familiar recipe. 

Reading it over, Harry pinged where the ingredients were in his head, a map forming of all the places he would need to slip off to before (Y/N) woke. He wanted to have it warm and ready for her the second she woke up, the tea-like potion something for her to sip on while he made dinner. That was how he found himself pressing a gentle kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before trying his best to avoid the creaky floorboards of his cottage as he made his way outside. 

The recipe he had stowed away in his brain directed him to his garden first, finding the short stalks of chamomile flowers that started popping up once he added daisies to his plots. Muttering a quiet thank you to his plants, he tugged out a grouping of the flowers, a tiny bouquet forming in his hands of the white flowers. Digging through the rest of his garden, he pulled some nettle leaves carefully from the bunch, ensuring he didn't accidentally sting himself with the pointed greens. 

With his growing potion in hand, Harry left the meadow of his home with a quick glance behind him to ensure (Y/N) was still safe and sound asleep. He didn't love leaving her alone, but he needed to grab this one last ingredient then he could once again join her. Scavenging around the area past the tree line, Harry found the bushel he was looking for just past one of the bigger trees that helped hide the view to his clearing. 

Instead of a tall, limbering tree like most cherry plants, Harry searched the ground for a small bush staying close to the strongest roots of the large tree. Underneath all of the low hanging greens were pert little cherries. The bright red hue stuck out starkly against the green of their leaves and the dirt path they bordered. Plucking off a few pairs of the fruits, Harry grinned when he saw just what he had been looking for. 

These cherries had abandoned the regular rounded shape of their cousins long ago, instead following the pattern of the sky and molding their flesh into the shape of the stars above them. Since they grew so low to the ground, the only way to reach the kind of light needed to grow, was from the twinkling stars that peeked through the brush. The starlight gave the fruits their own special properties, especially as they became so in sync with the moon cycle, making it perfect for what Harry was hoping to do with his potion. 

Harry made quick work of navigating through the trees, finding his way back to his heart. (Y/N) was sound asleep still as he crossed the threshold, Bonnie being the only one to acknowledge his presence as she lifted her head from where it rested on her paws with half hooded eyes. 

Feeling the energy of his little family behind him, Harry happily got to work in the kitchen. His mortar and pestle were the first stop in making his tea, the chamomile flowers and nettles going in first before he began to grind them together. The petals of the flowers fell apart and mixed with the green leaves, leaving streaks of yellow from the center and fragrant punches of their floral aroma to linger in the air. A quick flick of his fingers allowed for the paste to begin drying, becoming crumbly and perfect for the teabags he was to scoop them in. As he allowed the process to take place, next was steeping of the cherries on the stove to make the perfect tart base for her tea, the cherries hopefully covering up the bitter nettle taste. The starlight berries floated in the slowly boiling water on the stove, tinting everything pink as the color seeped from the flesh and allowing dews of starlight to trickle through. 

Stirring through the beginnings of the tea, Harry watched in awe of the stars twinkling through, creating vortexes with a spin of his spoon. If he looked close enough, he'd bet there were galaxies forming in the pot.

A delicate sigh sounded from behind him before the springs of his mattress creaked under movement. Peeking over his shoulder, he found (Y/N) adjusting herself in her sleep, though he could tell from he beat of her energy she wouldn't be sleeping for too much longer. The sun had made its way down low to the horizon, taking them farther from the lunchtime she had missed and closer to dinner where he planned on taking care of her before entertaining her until she found sleep once more. 

With her tea warming and the paste that would fill the teabags drying under an imaginary sun, Harry got to work on the dinner he was set to make for her. She always loved the soups he made for her, just behind the fresh pastries he was trying his hand at after becoming obsessed with a bakery in town. But, he figured he didn't really have enough time to make the perfectly layered and flaky croissant right now, so soup it was. 

With a pot warming up stock on the stove next to her simmering tea (the stars had become so plentiful that the dark liquid was beginning to shimmer like the night sky), the sound of Harry chopping vegetables and portioning out the ingredients filled the room. If not for (Y/N)'s sleeping, he would have flicked his record player on, Elton John being on tonight's turntable. Instead, he kept his focus on the moving parts going on in his kitchen. 

Wild rice, potatoes, peas, and yogurt were the first editions to his soup, letting everything soften and warm while he took care of the final steps of (Y/N)'s tea. With a wave of his fingers, tiny, cloth teabags were summoned to his workstation. As he spooned the chamomile and nettle mixture into the bags, Harry flicked his gaze to the windowsill in front of him, a handful of his crystals having been charging in the day's sun. Spotting the small shard of amethyst that shown a velvety purple in the darkening sky beside the cluster of celestite that matched the baby blue tones of morning sunshine, Harry deviated from the original spell for just a moment. Plucking the pair of crystals, Harry added them to what would be (Y/N)'s serving of the tea, allowing their healing properties to seep into the cherry sweet base of her drink. 

Setting a pair of mugs aside, Harry spooned the cherry drink into the ceramic first, (Y/N)'s carefully taken care of in a special cow printed mug she loved drinking out of when she came over. Her teabag was left to steep inside while Harry's was pushed off to the side in wait of whenever (Y/N) was ready and awake. With a flick of his wrist and a short spell muttered under his breath, the helpings of tea were charmed to stay warm in their mugs no matter how much time passed. His focus shifted to the now warmed soup, the bit of magic he cast that helped in the process of softening the vegetables and cooking the rice brought them to just the perfect temperature as he whisked his spoon through the creamy mixture. 

While bubbles simmered to the surface, Harry distracted himself with the herb garden he had growing just along the sill of his glassless window. As he plucked at the bunches of sage and thyme, Harry almost missed the sound of the bed creaking, a pulse in (Y/N)'s energy signaling she was awake. Dropping the seasonings to the counter, a bright grin took over Harry's features. 

Turning on his heel, his heart beat just a bit faster as he took in the way her messy hair was fluffed around her face as she knuckled at her eye. A slight furrow pinched at her brow as she sat up, Dandelion none too happy with the change in position though it only took her a moment to take advantage of the warm spot (Y/N) left behind. 

"Hi, sunshine," he sighed, voice soft as he rounded the peninsula counter of his kitchen to be closer to his love. 

"Hi," she muttered, voice giving away just how groggy she was with a grumble to her tone. 

"How'd y'sleep, dove?" Harry asked, shuffling to crouch in front of where she sat on the edge of his bed. Gentle hands landed on the thick of her thighs, palms warming her skin through the fabric of her borrowed sweats. 

Her hooded eyes blinked slowly at him as she ran a hand through her hair. "Good—way better than last night," she murmured, a smile tugging at her sleep-dredged features, "Did you put a spell on me or something? Because I even had those good dreams of you and I." 

That would never get old, Harry decided; every time he put a sweet dream charm on her, she always shared that those dreams typically consisted of the two of them, lounging or kissing or whatever els her mind conjured up to make her sleep sweet. 

"Maybe," Harry mused, a quiet shrug of his shoulders being the only answer she needed, "Dande told me y'were hungry, is that true?" 

(Y/N) gazed down at him with a pinch in her brow at the mention of the bunny's name. "How did she know that?" 

"I don't know, love," Harry started, flicking his gaze to the sleeping rabbit behind her, "She knows things that I don't think I'll ever understand. I stopped questioning her a long time ago." 

He could see the way (Y/N) accepted the answer, just as she did when he exposed himself as a witch. There wasn't much else that could shock someone, even an intuitive bunny rabbit that somehow knew about their owner's eating habits. "I mean, in my dream you were making me breakfast for a while, so maybe she picked up on that. Are you making dinner?" 

A bubbling nod caused Harry's curls to flop over his forehead. "Mhm," he hummed, "I've got some soup going, and I made y'some tea that's supposed to help with your tummy, if y'wanted to try it." 

Harry's pride only expanded as he watched her perk up at the mention of tonight's menu. "What kind of tea is it?" 

Delivering one last squeeze to the mid of her thigh, he stood to the full of his height between her legs with a broad smile on his face. "It was something m'sister used to make when she wasn't feeling well during her Moon Cycle," he explained to her as he moved to the kitchen, her special cow printed mug warming his hands as he took it to her. 

The tea shimmered in his hold, the teabag having sunk to the bottom of the mixture leaving the starry liquid to shine under the waning sunlight. (Y/N) awed when she saw the glimmering light coming from her mug, her careful fingers wrapping around the ceramic, grazing over Harry's hand as he passed it off. 

"How did you get stars in here?" she asked, voice hushed as if afraid to disturb the vision in her cup. 

"There's this kind of cherry that only grows under starlight, and whenever it's used like this, stars spill right out of it. I thought y'would like it," he told her, sitting beside her on the edge of his bed as he awaited her reaction to the first sip. 

With the mug nestled in her hands, (Y/N) carefully brought it to her mouth for a taste, eyes brightening as soon as the first splash hit her tongue. Two more large gulps later, a broad grin covered Harry's features. She liked it. 

"Harry," she bubbled, starlight glimmering on the pillow of her bottom lip before her tongue peeked out to swipe it away, "this is so good! Try some!" 

Harry could have melted away as he watched her offer him her mug, the tea that he has specially crafted to aid her cramps swirling in the cup. "I've got m'own waiting over there, but thank you, sunshine. I want y'to drink the whole thing before we have dinner, alright?" His words came out as a clear direction as he left her to finished her mug on his bed, his soup and bundled herbs calling to him before they burned. "M'book says two servings should cure you of your cramps until the end of the Moon Cycle." 

At the mention of dinner, Harry saw (Y/N)'s features brighten further. It was nice seeing her come back to herself after the scare she gave him. "What soup are you making?" 

Her eyes followed him into the kitchen, gaze dropping to his hands as he worked on the sage leaves and sprigs of thyme he was working into the soup. "Your favorite," he told her with a smile over his shoulder. 

She practically bounced on the edge of the mattress, the springs creaking. "The rice one? With the peas and everything? 

"That's the one," he told her, dropping the herbs and various seasonings he had portioned out into the simmering pot. 

"Oh, Harry," she crooned, the pout he was sure she had on her face evident in her voice, "You didn't have to do all this." 

Harry was quick to shoo off her remark with a wave of his hand, his attention directed on the stirring of the soup. "I don't have to do anything, sunshine, but I want to do this for you. Tears me up inside to see y'so upset and in pain over something that shouldn't be a punishment. I jus' want to make y'happier, love, that's all 'm trying to do." 

When he didn't hear any response for a moment, a pinch quirked Harry's brows. He hoped he hadn't made her upset; if she really didn't want him to do all of this for her, she only needed to tell him and he'd back off. Looking over his shoulder, he ended up finding her with a pair of watery eyes and a pout of her lips. 

"I love you," she peeped out between her puffed lips, the sentiment small as it hung in the air between them. 

"Sunshine," Harry sighed, abandoning his soup in favorite of catering to his flame, "C'mere." He beckoned to her with arms opened wide as he rounded the kitchen counter. (Y/N) was quick to move into his arms, her own looping around his middle with her face tucked against his chest. 

Burying his nose into her hair, Harry carefully ran his hands in a circuit along her back, soothing circles burrowing under her skin and relaxing her system. He cradled her against his chest as he cooed to her, reciprocating her sentiment of love and calming her from the tears that threatened to lead over her waterline. Her breathing came in watery puffs against his chest, the warm air leaking through his top and caressing his skin. He paid close attention to the pacing of her exhales, ensuring that she was feeling less on edge by the time he pulled back from her. Maybe, he would have to revisit the ritual he saw earlier for mood swings. 

"Feeling a little teary today, too?" he asked her, voice a quiet croon between just the two of them. 

"Yeah, I guess so," (Y/N) breathed out a laugh against his chest, "Its not usually this bad though. You're just being too sweet, it caught me off guard." 

A gentle kiss was pressed to the top of her head, the strands of her hair brushing against his nose and tickling his cheeks. "I didn't mean to make y'cry, sunshine—jus' love y'so much, that's all." 

"I know," she sighed. Her arms around his middle tightened as she spoke the words that without fail made him feel like he was joining the moon and becoming a star with only the purpose of floating through the sky and shining bright for all to see: "I love you, too, Harry. Best thing that ever happened to me." 

A smile bloomed across his features as he buried his face in her hair. His eyes fluttered to a contented close as he took in the moment, his heart feeling complete with his lover right in his arms and the best thing she could ever say to him echoing in his ears. "You're gonna make me cry now, if you're not careful. Not gonna be able to finish making dinner when y'get me teary like this, you know that."

That got (Y/N)'s attention as she pulled back from Harry's chest just enough to look up at him. "But, I'm still hungry," she pouted, a teasing glint sparking across her now dry eyes. 

"I know," he smiled down at her, ducking his head to nudge his nose against hers in a puppy's kiss, "That's why you've gotta be gentle with me. Can't really take care of y'when 'm all weepy cause you're being sweet on me." 

(Y/N) let out a quiet laugh that transformed her features, softened every curve and adding creases to her eyes and lines around her mouth. Her eyes were dreamy and far away as she looked up at him. "Fine," she relented on a sigh, "Kiss before you go back to work?" 

Harry didn't even try to stand up against the pucker of her lips, immediately stretching his neck and pressing his mouth to hers in a heart-mending kiss. Though the contact was nothing more than an innocent press, Harry still felt his heart thump, urging itself to runaway as he pulled back. 

With a final nudge from (Y/N) pushing him towards the kitchen and the soup that was simmering away on the stove, it was with a smile quirking the corners of his lips and a heart trying to lift up to the clouds that he finished up the nights meal. Herbs and spices were added to the mixture, fragrancing the air with notes of sage and warm thyme. By the time he had developed the flavor he was looking for, he couldn't dole out the servings fast enough as he felt (Y/N)'s eyes on his back. 

Chunks of a crusty baguette he had hidden away in his bread box were portioned out for both bowls, (Y/N) given the bigger serving as he carefully moved to sit beside her on his bed. His minimalist cottage allowed for the pair of them to cozy up on his bed with the nest of his duvet fluffed around them, a dining table not necessary in Harry's mind when he could be close to (Y/N) like this instead. 

With her legs crossed underneath her, (Y/N) settled the warm bowl in her lap, peas and potato chunks floating around in the creamy soup, bright spots of green herbs ribboning through the mixture. Harry waited for her opinion on the soup first, watching her take her first bite while he absently flicked his hand to summon his helping of tea (that he was going to end up giving to (Y/N) as it seemed she had already finished her first mug). 

With a spoonful loaded with the wild rice and bright vegetables, (Y/N) took a careful bite. The smile that brightened her face, brows raised and eyes wide made Harry's chest puff with pride. 

"This is even better than last time, H," she beamed, spooning out another bite though her attention was pinned to him, "Did you do anything different?" 

Harry shook is head, curls flopping over his forehead at the motion. "No, jus' tried extra hard to make it good for you. Feeling any better with the tea and everything?" 

An excited nod of (Y/N)'s head sent her own hair a flutter, strands having escaped the twist she had put it in. Swallowing down her bite of dinner, she flicked her eyes to the extra mug of tea Harry had in his hand. Without thinking, he offered it to her with a silent question, urging her to wrap her fingers around the handle and take a sip. 

"I still feel a little icky," she said, throat bobbing as she swallowed down her seeing of starlight, "But way better than yesterday. Thank you for helping me." 

(Y/N) hadn't been paying attention as she brought another spoonful of soup to her mouth, going a bit haywire with a bump to her lip and causing a dribble of the mixture to land on the point of her chin and smear over the side of her mouth. Harry breathed out a laugh, bringing his hand up to her chin before swiping away the mess with the pad off is thumb. 

"That's what 'm here for, sunshine," he cemented through his smile, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick off the mess he had cleaned for her. 

Her cheeks went warm as she watched him, aura matching with a cozy yellow and rosy pink that was his favorite combination to see haloing her form. 

—————

"Sorry I'm not being any fun tonight, I'm just still so tired." 

Harry watched with adoration swimming in his gaze as (Y/N) yawned before snuggling deeper under the covers stretched over his bed. Two empty mugs with residual stardust lingering in the bottom sat in his sink, and only a single helping left of the wild rice soup was stowed away and chilling in the refrigerator. (Y/N) had been effectively wined and dined, her system warmed and loosened enough that it had taken very little convincing on Harry's part to suggest that they head to bed early that night. Both Bonnie and Dandelion had embarked on their own adventures halfway through dinner, bored with watching their parents give each other lovey eyes and coo to one another. They would be back, he was sure, they couldn't stand to be too far from (Y/N) when she visited overnight. 

"Don't be sorry, Dovie," he told her climbing into bed beside her, "I don't blame you. Healing takes a lot out of you, and 'm sure it's not easy during your Moon Cycle." 

(Y/N) answered in a quiet sigh as Harry wrapped his arms around her. Her own arms were bundled between them, fingertips just barely brushing along the line of his collarbone. Just holding her, Harry could feel a thread of tenseness that had leaked back into her system, the tea and soup having done enough to relax her muscles, but nothing could completely erase the discomfort that came with feeling parts of your insides leave your body in a not so pleasant process. 

With a wave of his fingers behind her shoulder, Harry queued his record player up, a Bread record spinning on the turntable. Soft notes of Baby I'm-A Want You filtered through the cottage, blending with the gentle sound of the swaying breeze that blew just outside. Using the cover of the song to muffle the spell he recited over (Y/N)'s head, Harry enchanted his hands with the charm of a healing touch. A warmth touched at his palms, spreading through to his fingers until there was a level of heat that simmered under his skin. It was a touch uncomfortable for him, a sensation he wasn't used to, but was more than willing to go through if it was going to help (Y/N) finally be pulled from the turmoil her body was putting her through. 

The reaction was almost immediate as he pressed his hands to the expanse of her back. Muscles shifted and liquified, the arch and ache of her bones softened, and the stiff set of her body curled and sunk into the mattress and his arms. 

"Its like you're a heating pad or something. Already feeling so much better now that you're holding me." (Y/N) mumbled words were smeared against the slope of his throat, a broad smile touching at his lips. 

Sure, he could explain to her that he had actually cast a healing spell on his hands, tell her that it wasn't anything more than a clever charm that would wear off through the night—or, he could keep her thinking that his touch by itself was healing her, his presence just the antidote she needed. Maybe it was a bit selfish to go with the second option, but not harmful at all, Harry decided with a quiet smile.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he continued his circuit over her back, occasionally playing with the ends of her stray hairs and drawing affectionate shapes across the planes of her back. Despite the short nap he had taken that afternoon, feeling her so close to him brought out a serenity that was hard to ignore, even when he hadn't started out the cuddle session tired at all. 

"What song is this?" (Y/N) murmured, her words slurred and half asleep, just as they usually were when she needed that final shove of his calming voice to lull her to her dreams. And she knew nothing got him talking like music did. 

"'S this song by Bread—" 

"Bread?" 

Harry breathed out a laugh that ruffled the hair on the crown of her head. God, he loved her. No one could make him laugh like she did. 

"I know, 's a weird one, isn't it? But, this album came out in '71, I think, and..."

—————

its been so long since I posted something for citrine so im so excited for everyone to revisit their story!!! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!

#anon #writing #harry #harry styles #harry blurb #harry one shot #harry au #harry prompt #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry writing #witch harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles prompt #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #witch harry styles #citrine harry #fine line #harrys house #music for a sushi restaurant #late night talking #as it was #grapejuice #daylight #little freak #matilda

[cowboygenesis]

two: sign from the skies | geralt x reader

part 2 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: none.

word count: 4.4k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: here we go, chapter two! i want to add a lot more geralt-reader interactions from now on… i live for the tension. if you're disappointed with the lack of smut so far, please bear with me! i'm working on some smutty oneshots on the side if you're interested, to satiate all of us as this longer fic comes along.. enjoy x

The air was dewy and cold that morning. Geralt had woken up at dawn to the scent of musk, grass, and a sleek layer of moisture on his skin, cool and sensitive to the soft breeze nipping at his ears and cheeks. As promised, he had taken camp at the edge of the nearby woods; far enough to drown out the buzz of Posada’s rich nightlife, yet close enough to watch the churchbells swing rhythmically once the sun began to rise over the horizon.

“No trouble sleeping last night, Roach?” the man nodded towards his steed, earning a soft neigh. “Last night was peaceful. No sign of that creature the barmaid spoke of, or of anything else for that matter,”

Geralt’s eyebrows raised in agreement, stretching his torso against the rough bark of an oak tree. “Perhaps it only awakens for the foragers after all.”

He crouched down next to the remains of a crude, makeshift campfire. The heavy, weathered stones encircled a blackened pile of ash that housed a tiny, dying flame. The man hummed lowly, reaching his arms into a canvas sack as his fingers poked around the flailing mound of cloth, testing the textures and mounds of the treasures inside. Shining gold, glass potion vials, scraps of leather, and unread letters… finally, his index brushed against a smooth, waxy surface.

“Ah, so we’re not yet doomed.” he smiled coyly, picking out a small, luscious apple and bringing it up to the sunlight. The red skin glistened deliciously, and Geralt could almost feel the tart juices on his tongue.

Roach whined, hooves stomping precociously on the soft grass below. Her beady little eyes were bright, pleading, and Geralt chuckled softly at her reaction to such a delightful treat. With a flick, he tossed the apple towards her and watched as it rolled on the grass, finally making contact with her slender front leg.

“I know you’ll appreciate this more than I would,” he remarked with a nod, legs flexing to stand up once again. He grunted, metal clinging and slashing against his pauldrons while he swiftly fastened his gear. He adjusted the steel and silver swords in their holsters and finally fingered at his chest piece until a metallic wolf revealed its head from under his blouse.

“We can resupply in town, but if there is any truth to the talks of this beastie I might as well see what it’s about. Perhaps I’ll be in luck to find a rabbit or two while I’m at it.” Geralt mumbled, and his mare snorted in reply. Her snout lapped at the red apple in curiosity, tongue slowly flicking against the short stem before she made her first bite.

Geralt moved his gaze away from Posada’s rooftops and instead directed it at the lush forest behind. The treeline was thick, twisting and turning in the soft, white light of the morning sun. Considering their current location, these woods could span for dozens of kilometers with no habitable settlements in between, making the witcher’s next hunt more complex, or, at the very least, very time-consuming. He huffed at the thought, but with a full suit of armor now on, persevered ahead.

Geralt strolled in, boots squelching and creaking against the plush, moss-covered ground below his boots. As he made his way deeper into the pits of nature, the birdsong became sporadic. It dulled down to an occasional tweet, drowned out by the echoing volume of a cool wind weaving through the green and yellow leaves above. This breeze would grow in strength ever so often, tugging at thinner branches and whistling an eery melody into the morning dew.

When Geralt looked up again, the tree crowns had thickened to such a degree that the natural light struggled to pass through. Only singular, thin batches of light made their way through the thicket, beaming down on the earth below and illuminating the surface of a small stream. The clear waters had carved a small grove amongst the trees, allowing for a steady flow of life through the otherwise tranquil, idle surroundings.

There was a snap from behind. The man’s arm quickly tugged at the padded handle of his sword, half-unsheathed as his eyes narrowed. He scanned around, focused and unmoving while he confronted the perpetrator of chaos head-on.

Up ahead, just by a thick, decaying oak stump, stood an animal. Her tawny coat shone with a matted kind of luminance, a thick bristle dotted with milky spots and lines that trailed down her slender limbs. She raised her head, beady eyes looking into Geralt’s through a fan of black lashes. She chewed peacefully on a patch of green moss, nose glistening with a healthy sheen of moisture and no apparent desire to escape her pursuer.

Geralt readied his weapon, slowly letting it slide out of its protective casing as his right foot stepped up. The steel swished against leather, now gripped with two hands: mightily, purposefully. “Better than a rabbit,” he muttered under his heaving breaths.

The man advanced slowly, watching as the doe made peace with her fate. Her head stood still, jaw clenching and unclenching with the chew of her final meal.

Suddenly, another snap, from up ahead. The animal’s ears perked up, large head darting behind, then back forward. She looked at Geralt with glazed eyes and a wet nose. His legs tensed up. Then, she galloped away.

Her speed was unthinkable, furry body darting through the thicket while the witcher sprinted after her. The doe’s nubby tail twirled, hooves stomping on moss and soil before she made a final jump ahead, disappearing into a tall honeysuckle bush.

Geralt’s feet stuck in place, halting rapidly with a quickened breath as he examined the greenery. The blood in his ears was deafening, the birds and wind abruptly silenced. He readjusted his grip on the sword, sweat trickling down his forehead as steel slashed at the twigs ahead. With the self-made opening, he squeezed his body through the branches, feeling a sting as they tugged at his exposed skin. His eyes squinted at the sunlight pooling onto his face, stepping ahead cautiously with his blade leading the way.

He was in a small clearing. The glade was filled with an array of wildflowers and poppies, lined with sparse, decaying fencing and housing a small, swampy pond at the right-most edge of the valley, speckled with rounded stones and water reeds.

Ahead, down a decline, stood a wooden hut, its roof angled awkwardly, holding the four walls together in a matter of unbelievable asymmetry and heedlessness. The small, rectangular window perched on one of the sides had been covered with a decrepit plank, rotten and mossy from the test of harsh elements and time. Walking closer, Geralt realized the shack was completely uninhabited, and perhaps for a while at that.

Seeking an entrance, he strutted alongside the wall, gloved palms feeling the roughened, brittle surface of the wood. A small porch could be visible from just beyond another honeysuckle, this time easily traversable by foot.

He slumped down through the thicket, eyes squinting as he made it to the other side. The air felt stagnant. Geralt’s eyes trailed towards the porch, down the betrodden path, and towards the blinding red below.

The doe was dead. Her soft, white underbelly rested against the soil, tufts of fur stained a brilliant crimson that speckled her snout, ears, and backside. Her eyes looked the same as when she was alive, beady and lifeless. Geralt’s eyes trailed to the liquid pooling at her wound, eyes following her flank. Four deep gashes were carved into the tan bristle, cutting skin and muscle with apt precision. Geralt’s grip tightened.

He stepped away, circling the body cautiously. The porch fencing was tangled up in a mess of twine and ivy, and nestled within a cracked open entrance; an inconspicuous, wooden doorway with no knob or handle. Kicking away at stray vines, the witcher positioned himself against the entryway, shoulder-angled and tense. He breathed in, and out, and with a quick bodyslam, the door slung wide open.

The stench within was indescribable. Sour, earthy, and musky, with hints of myrrh and lavender, heavily lacing the atmosphere within. Singular streams of sunlight flooded into the hut through boarded-up windows, revealing constellations of dust particles dancing and swiveling through the air like stars.

The ceiling was adorned with bundles of dried herbs hanging by a thin twine, so dried up they had begun to flake off onto the floor in little piles.

Along the first wall stood a kitchen drawer, hanging out of its hinges and exposing the void within; the second wall was occupied by a bed, covered in hay and a small, child-sized quilt. Despite its visibly decrepit state, the textile was able to retain traces of handiwork: small, colorful stitches connected individual pieces of cloth, some of which bore tiny floral designs and some kind of animal iconography.

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows with a hum. He took another general glance around the room, licked his chapped lips, and adjusted his gaze to the flickering glimmer at the corner of his vision. He sheathed his sword and cautiously approached, eyes squinting at the object. He dropped his right knee, fingers reaching out to grab a crooked floorboard. As he pulled, the blackened wood crumbled between his fingers, the stench of mold unraveling under his nostrils.

The glimmer of light faded as his figure obscured the sunlight, the small compartment below the deck emanating with darkness. Geralt reached his hand down, feeling around the moist soil and cobwebs before his knuckles brushed against a hard spine.

A book, bound in a weathered skin of tan fur and leather. The cover was simple, unsigned, yet bearing a sizeable silver plate. The metal dipped into a shallow grove in the center, worn with scratches where the valley was deepest. His fingers sunk under the side of the cover, flipping through a few pages until the book lay flat on the ground.

The pages were yellowed, stained with dirt, grease, and herbal residue, but otherwise blank. Geralt flipped a few pages in bulk, but the paper held no writing. A few more, and still, nothing. Raising his arm, he bit at the loose fabric of his glove and with a grunt, removed it entirely. His hand hovered over the crease binding the book together, eyes closing. The exposed skin of his fingers reverberated, gently caressed by an unseeable force emanating from the paper.

“Magic,” he muttered, his hoarse voice cutting the silence of the cabin like a dulled knife. “Unreadable, perhaps purposefully locked away.”

His legs tensed against the dusty floor, smacking the book shut before he rose to his full height. A hum escaped his throat, echoing through his head as his eyes scanned the leather cover of this newly discovered artifact. If there was a sorcerer in town, he could try and decipher the pages. Hells, perhaps an alchemist could aid him.

With a cautious turn, Geralt turned towards the doorway. The outside light was beginning to fade, the cool tones of dawn melting into a soft warmth. He pushed at the rotted wood and walked out with two short strides, shutting the door behind him. The hinges creaked with the impact.

The air felt fresh. A gentle breeze carried through the small valley, kissing his eyelids as his gaze wandered to a splash of red—the dead doe.

He inhaled, circling a patch of moss until the tips of his boots grazed the animal’s fur. The pool of blood had spread since he last examined her, forming a shallow lake around his feet and sinking into the porous material. With a sharp exhale, he propped his arms under her stained belly. The exposed skin of his left hand dipped in the crimson liquid, letting it lap at his creased palm and sinking under the fingernails. Once his grip felt secure, he lifted with a soft grunt. The deer’s head sunk, lolling lifelessly in the air as Geralt threw the body over his shoulder. The doe felt light, so fragile she could break at any moment if his movements were to become brazen.

The witcher took one last look behind, the insides of the hut greeting him once again with a dark void. He hummed, turning away at the sensation brewing in his gut. His feet stomped across the soil, grunts filling the air as he adjusted to the extra weight on his side. The doe lay perfectly still upon his collarbone, her white tuft of a tail now motionless next to Geralt’s cheek.

Thick clouds had emerged on the azure backdrop above once the witcher had finally returned to his campsite. The sky pulsed in shades of blue and white, clusters of grey hanging with a suspicion of rain, perhaps a thunderstorm if his luck was really down that day.

Geralt had thrown the fresh carcass onto a flattened boulder, letting it sit a while as he re-sparked a fresh batch of coals for a campfire. The sleek, steel blade slid against his flint in jots of white and gold, the sound of slashing metal harmonizing with the sudden onset of distant grumbling. The sky began to darken, the distant clouds fat and ashen with moisture. Geralt hummed, striking the flint once more. Volatile sparks flew into the mound of dried lavender and sage piled amidst black coals.

Another roar in the atmosphere sent Roach into a manic spree, her hooves kicking spastically into the air, cries of fear filling the cool air.

“Easy, girl,” Geralt commanded, yet a gentleness laced his grave tone as a hand raised in the air, reaching towards the mare’s snout. Her snorts calmed, eyes scanning the man’s pale face in search of something familiar and comforting. He smiled. “Just a thunderstorm,” he reassured, “judging from the wind, it might be headed away from us.”

The warm glow of the growing flame lapped at Geralt’s knees, giving the two companions a tiny bubble of comforting illumination. He hummed, gripping the slender blade in his rough palm, and swiftly crawled towards the deer. Her body looked flaccid, restful almost, as she continued her eternal rest against the jagged surface of the flattened boulder.

His eyes shifted towards the horizon, hovering over the betrodden path and along the navy overskirt of a woman heading his direction. His eyebrows furrowed, the firm grip on his blade loosening as she approached with a bright smile plastered across her tired face.

“Geralt?” the girl called out, breaking into a fiddly sprint. Her movement was jagged and awkward, possibly inhibited by the size of her hand-me-down boots that croaked loudly, even at a distance.

“Geralt!” she affirmed, giddiness laced into her breathy voice as she placed a protective hand over the sizeable item in her other arm- a woven basket. She approached the man with a half-jog, eyes wide and bright.

“I… I looked around… everywhere for you,” she heaved, struggling to catch her breath. Her face was reddened and moist with sweat. “I remembered… I’m so glad you decided to stay!” she exclaimed with a kind smile, dusting off her apron. The material was off-white and stained with ale, but came alive with the addition of small beading and sewn decals at the seams. The colors were mismatched and varied, yet somehow brought the girl’s features out in just the right way.

“I took your job offer,” Geralt reminded her with a nod, hand hovering over the deer’s thick bristle. The girl’s eyes dropped at the gesture, her smile fading into a frown; not fearful or disgusted, simply upset.

“Poor girl,” she said quietly, kneeling with the basket perched upon her hip. She placed a nimble hand on the animal’s back, slowly trailing towards her belly. Her pinky grazed gently against Geralt’s, making her withdraw shakily. “Such beautiful animals.”

Geralt remained silent, watching the woman’s eyelashes brush her blushed cheeks as she studied the carcass with a profound fascination.

“I hope she didn’t suffer,” she added with a sharp inhale, hesitantly dragging her gaze away from the doe’s white belly. Geralt hummed with an acknowledging nod, deciding to stay silent. He didn’t know whether the doe suffered or not, and bringing that up to the woman felt fruitless at the moment.

“When I was little, I would try and count the spots on baby deer, the little white freckles. My mother told me every one of them meant a past lifetime. I think it was some sort of tradition she picked up from her own mother,” the woman continued, that same soft smile returning to her lips. Geralt maintained his composure, hands placed firmly against his knees as he watched the woman fidget nervously. Her nailbeds pressed into the coarse material of her apron, and Geralt scanned along the place where it met her corset. This one looked looser, clinging onto her waist a lot more comfortably than her tavern attire. She must have been taking a day off.

“Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to deal with my chattering this early in the morning. I hope you’re hungry, I brought you something as a ‘thank you’,” she chuckled dryly, giving him a grin as her hands reached into the basket. She dug around for a moment, one eye closed in concentration before she finally withdrew a large loaf of bread. Her other hand unraveled a checkered napkin, which she opted to spread by the campfire. She placed the bread on top, then dug out a small paper parcel and leather decanter. She passed the latter into Geralt’s hands, and he grabbed it haphazardly. “For helping us out,”

The tanned leather felt cool against his fingertips, rough around the seams and adorning a crimson-stained cork at the top.

“The deer was dead when I found it,” he muttered, twisting the flask open. The cork squealed at the pressure, revealing a strong aroma of tart cherries and foreign spices. He tilted the bottle and looked inside, catching a glimpse of the bright-red concoction that swirled in the soft light.

“What is this?” Geralt questioned with a sniff.

The girl’s eyebrows seemed to relax at the notion that the doe didn’t suffer at his own hands, despite that conclusion being far-fetched and faulty. Sparing her the details of the strange occurrence in the woods seemed like the wisest course of action, regardless.

“Black cherry wine,” she declared with a smile, “A traveling merchant was selling these in bulk at the market this morning, for real cheap too. I hope you like it, though the spices might not be to everyone’s taste, I find.”

Geralt placed the nozzle to his lips, taking a modest sip and letting the tangy liquid slosh along his palate. The initial sweetness of the cherry transformed into a mild burn of cinnamon and cloves, filling the witcher’s chest with a comforting warmth that radiated down the stomach and limbs.

“It’s good,” he commented ingeniously, earning a satisfied nod from the girl.

“Right? It’s not so bad,” she chuckled, hands hovering over the fat loaf of bread warming against the fire. Her fingertips pressed into the crisp skin, as she eyed the witcher’s blade. “I don’t drink so much anymore, but these fruity wines from Skellige are always worth the trouble. ‘Lush’, I think they call them, traditionally. Something about the method of preparation. May I?” she trailed, pointing at the man’s knife with a mingy finger.

Geralt paused, taking another drink from the leather decanter. The supposed infamy of Skellige’s wines had never come to his mind. He cleared his throat, tossing the knife upwards to reposition his grip. His hands gently clasped onto the blade, handle aimed at the woman in front. She took it carefully, anxiously, letting the hilt land in her elfin hands, analyzing it meticulously and toying with the base. She let the flat of the knife slide against her palm, securing it in her grip.

“You don’t have to eat that doe anymore, you know?” she declared quietly, her voice laced with uncertainty. She didn’t look up, instead continuing to stab into the soft flesh of bread with a certain might and precision. The knife sliced into it smoothly, producing three slices of perfectly thick wedges that looked soft and delectable in the harsh light of the campfire.

“It’s a waste of meat if I don’t,” he replied, hand extending as the girl handed him two of the three slices in her possession. They felt moist against his skin, rough around the edges where the skin had baked into a thin crust.

“How about you sell it at the town’s market? The butcher could pay you handsomely for such a prime doe,” the woman suggested, peeling back the paper parcel to reveal a white goat’s cheese. She used the knife to slice it, placing the soft rectangles onto Geralt’s bread, then did the same with her own. “Venison spoils quickly, and you won’t make good use of the animal nearly fast enough.”

Geralt hummed, sinking his teeth into the morsel. The cheese was fresh and soft, spilling buttermilk on his tongue as he savored the delicate flesh of the bread below. Perhaps a fat pouch of coin would prove more beneficial than spoiled deer, indeed.

“Would you lead me to this market, then?” he questioned, quaffing the cherry liquor in intermissions. The girl’s eyes lit up, cheeks bunching with a smile. Her teeth sunk into her meal, chewing quickly and negligently. The bread disappeared quickly amongst her teeth.

“Let’s set out after our meal, in that case. The clouds have been brewing all morning, haven’t they?” she pointed at the horizon, thick gusts of silver nipping at the rooftops. “We wouldn’t want to get caught in that squall. Posada is infamous for these storms.”

The refreshments were gone quickly, replaced by a lulling comfort in their guts as Geralt stood up to prepare them for travel. He doused the campfire with water from his carafe, kicking at the remaining flames with his boot. He then unloaded his gear onto Roach. The deer hung off the steed’s backside, accompanied by the witcher’s travel pack and his visitor’s hand trailing gently along the mare’s muzzle.

“Hi, girl,” she spoke with a smile, rubbing her hand alongside the horse’s cheek. Roach whinnied, leaning into her touch. “Oh, just how precious you are! What’s your name?”

“Roach,” Geralt grumbled out, securing the leather saddle onto the horse’s back.

“Roach,” the woman repeated, scratching behind the mare’s ear. “Why Roach?”

“I name all my horses the same,” Geralt huffed, hands snaking down the thick bristle until his fingers tangled into the reigns. The woman chuckled at his explanation, and he raised an eyebrow in response. Her laughter was warm, hearty, and completely uninhibited by her company, it seemed. “There’s only space for one with the deer in the back. Get on.”

The woman’s face turned to face the witcher, lips pursed as she eyed the leather saddle under her palm. She approached slowly, neck craning as she maintained eye contact with the flaxen-haired man. Her cheeks flushed with a soft pink, dusting her nose and temples as she exhaled. She looked at her companion pleadingly.

Geralt hummed with an acknowledging nod, circling behind her back. His arms extended, hands hovering over the dip in her waist. He took note of the woman’s moss-green blouse, sitting loosely against her shoulder blades and exposing a fragment of the soft skin beneath.

She looked down, locks of mussed hair caressing her neck as her breath quickened, heavy in her chest whilst her breast expanded with every sharp inhale.

“May I?” Geralt questioned, his right hand gently resting atop her hip as he awaited confirmation. With the indication of a quick, subtle nod from the woman, he positioned his grip firmly against her waist and lifted. She gasped softly at the touch, her blue overskirt swept in a gentle breeze as her buttocks landed firmly against the saddle.

“Thanks,” she breathed out shakily, fingers wrapping firmly around the cantle. Her lips curled into a coy smile, watching as Geralt tightened his grip around the leather reigns and tugged, bold gaze relentlessly conversing with hers. He exhaled sharply, letting Roach trail ahead while he placed a free hand on the mare’s neck, nearing the girl’s hip.

“You’re strong,” she declared candidly, followed by a suppressed chuckle.

“Does it come as a surprise?” he questioned, head turned safely away from the woman’s curious gaze as he let a cheeky smile creep onto his lips. She laughed heartily in return.

As they led Roach down down the glade, she let her gaze trail along the stormy horizon, watching as the clouds approached in proximity to the red rooftops of Posada hovering solemnly in the distance.

She shuffled in the saddle, legs crossed as she let her eyes meet with the witcher’s long, flaxen hair, watching it trail down his heavy-set shoulders and toned back. He must have been robust under all that armor, certainly, after years of fighting monsters by hand and sword.

He strode down the beaten path with an air of inexplicable confidence and a certain, palpable grit that was made apparent through the fluidity of his movement. The woman gazed through half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“There’s another reason I wanted to speak to you,” she declared, stroking down Roach’s mane. Geralt kept his steady walking rhythm, allowing the girl to continue with his comfortable silence. “I know you spoke to Sylvanus in his room last night.” she trailed.

“And?” Geralt surmised, eyes glued towards the sky. The woman’s foot fiddled with a stirrup, eyebrows furrowed.

“I spotted him in the market square this morning, while I was resupplying ale for the tavern. He had just left the alchemist’s shop with a hefty purchase, and it very much appeared to me that he didn’t want to be seen or questioned about it, by anyone,” she confided, tone laced with slighted apprehension at the memory.

Geralt hummed in acknowledgment, fingers tightening around the leather reigns in his palm. He recalled the strange man’s declaration last night, his gravelly voice echoing in the witcher’s mind as they trotted down a patch of grass.

“Show me to that alchemist once we’re in town,” he commanded, a loud, crackling rumble filling the atmosphere suddenly. The woman gasped softly, eyes gazing into the darkened skies as the ozonic air entered her lungs, flushed skin met with the soft droplets of the first autumn rain.

#fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher #witcher #wiedzmin #geralt z rivii #geralt x reader #geralt x youu #the witcher fanfic #x reader #reader insert #my writing #writers on tumblr #eventual smut #smut #magic #fantasy #original characters #oc #slow burn #oneshots #ao3 #writer #witcher 3 #witcher netflix #henry cavill

[midnightfictionlibrary]

You're The One - Joel Miller x Reader

Joel Miller x Reader

Content : physicality (a bit of shoving and manhandling) , kissing, angst, fluff at the end

Word count : 1.3k

A/N : Haven't written in a bit, but wanted to write this idea out. If you enjoy please like and reblog &lt;3

When you go foraging, Joel panics when he can't find you. When you return, he can't seem to give you a straight answer.

You watched him walk through the thicket of trees, his broad shoulders flexing as he pushed a long hanging tree branch out of his way. He had told you to stay there, but you didn’t see the use in you staying near the dead log you two decided to use as a “base”, when you could be foraging. Ellie was back at the safehouse, and she had been sniffly lately. You thought you might be able to find some berries, or perhaps a few wildflowers to cheer her up. You knew that the young girl hated feeling useless, so you stood up and dusted your hands off. 

You weren’t going to stay here. Joel wasn’t going to keep you glued wherever he pleased, you were a grown woman, and you were more than capable of handling yourself. You checked the belt at your hip, making sure you had your knife, a handkerchief to gather any edibles, and your canteen. You decided not to go far, just through the treeline, so you could quickly make it back to camp if need be. 

Stretching your arms, you walk through the towering trees, taking in the lush green leaves and the slight hum in the air that let you know it was summer. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you close your eyes slightly and smile. It may be the end of the world, but the smell of the trees and the way the sun played on your skin felt the same as it always did, and you cherished that. You had to take the little things where you could, there wasn’t much left to smile about these days. It felt like a “new normal” may never be achieved. You shook your head, sweeping your eyes across the ground. 

You loved wildflowers, and always had. The thicket that grew under your feet was almost overwhelmingly beautiful, and you stooped to look amongst them. You sat, picking a few blues, oranges and yellows to wrap carefully in your handkerchief. It was cooler under the canopy of the trees, so there you sat, admiring the beauty of the season. It had been so long since you were able to sit and feel…content. Constantly fighting, on the move, watching your back. It exhausted you. Sitting here under the trees was the first time you felt almost normal in quite a while. You closed your eyes again, taking in the sounds and smells of the world around you. 

When you opened your eyes again, you had no idea how much time had passed, but you could faintly hear Joel yelling for you. “Shit.” You muttered, quickly standing up and gathering your things. As you make your way towards the small clearing where you had made a makeshift camp, you hear Joel’s voice getting more…panicked? You pick up your pace, deciding to call out to him as you step through the last few trees. 

“Joel-?” 

He turns around, faster than you expected him to. You thought he would be relieved to see you, but when you catch a glimpse at the expression under the heavy eyebrows, he’s furious. 

“Where the fuck were you?” He growls, crossing the small clearing and gripping the front of your jacket roughly, seemingly giving you a once over to ensure you hadn’t injured yourself. 

The manhandling immediately puts you on edge and you hotly push his hands off of you, shoving his chest a bit as you step back. “What the hell, Joel? I was gathering flowers and I fell asleep -”

“You fell asleep? You could have gotten yourself in a shit ton of trouble.” He says as he stumbles back from your shove. You reach out to give him another shove, anger coursing through you from his treatment of you and he catches your wrist in his large, calloused hand. “Don’t.” He spits out, eyes narrowed. 

You narrow your own eyes at him and breathe heavily through your nose. “I’m not some damsel in distress you need to protect, Joel. I can handle myself.” Fervently, you snatch your wrist out of his grasp. 

You stood facing each other, tensions hanging thick. 

“Ellie needs you.” He says finally, a gruff tone overcoming him. “You can’t wander off without me knowing. What would I tell the kid-”

“Is it just about Ellie?” You cut him off, challenging him. The unspoken words between you were almost close enough to taste. He glances away from you, the muscles in his perfectly angular jaw jumping. He licks his lips, the movement catching your eye. It was your turn to glance away. 

“'Course it is.” He answers finally, clearing his throat. You notice he doesn’t move away from you. 

“You are always so full of shit, Joel. Can’t give me a straight answer here, can’t give me a straight answer about why I had to stay perfectly still waiting for you to come back like I’m some princess waiting for a prince to come save her. Did I fall asleep? Yes, and I’m sorry if I frightened you.” You were getting heated again, wondering why he couldn’t just tell you what was on his mind. 

Joel scoffed. “I’m not afraid. If you hadn’t popped out of the trees I would have left your ass behind and figured out something else.” 

You laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head. Walking past Joel, you shoulder check him, bending down to gather your supplies and stuff them haphazardly back into your knapsack. 

“What are you doin'?” He asks, watching you. He was curious. Something about you always had him on edge. His gruff demeanor was up tenfold when you were around, guarding feelings he wasn’t quite ready to delve towards. 

“Figuring something else out.” You answer, your voice clipped and tight. You sling the knapsack over your shoulders, pick up your lantern, and start walking away from Joel Miller, colossal asshole. You hear him quickly pick up his own pack and start following you. 

“Hey. C’mon. I didn’t mean that…I would have looked for you as long as it took.” He says, close behind you. You shake your head, continuing your steady pace. 

“Didn’t you?” You say back, keeping your tone tight. If he truly didn’t want you around then you would simply leave. 

“Damn it.” Joel mutters, picking up his pace and grabbing your hand, yanking you to face him. “Would you stop walkin' away from me?”

“Oh, more demands from Mr. Joel Miller? I thought you would have left me behind, didn’t know you wanted me following you so -”

Your sentence is cut off by Joel yanking you to his chest, hands cradling your head before his lips connect with yours. Instantly, your breath is gone, your lips moving of their own accord. When your head clears you pull back, shaking your head. 

“No -” You pull away. “This isn’t a cheap romance novel. You don’t get to just sweep me off my feet.”

Joel lets you slip out of his grasp, looking away from you again. “Look. I..ahem..” He clears his throat. “I haven’t had this type of feelin'…in, well in a long time. I feel drawn to you in ways I can’t understand. I…apologize…if I seem overbearin'. But if I lost you, too, after everything else, I don’t know how I would react. I’ve been holdin' you at arm’s length for a reason, and maybe that was wrong of me.” 

You step closer again, tilting your head and guiding his chin so he’s looking at you again. “Never thought I would hear the word “apologize” come out of your mouth, Joel.” You joke lightly, letting your hand slide slightly to cradle the side of his face. 

Joel leans into your touch, unthinking. It felt to him like he had done it a thousand times before. He closes his eyes, remembering Sarah, remembering how it felt to have another person love you for yourself, a wife, a family. He remembered losing everything. He couldn't lose you, too.

You watch him melt into your touch, and something inside of you breaks. Any anger you had towards him during this exchange dissipates, and you step forward, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He opens his eyes to look at you and you smile, turning back around to continue walking. 

This time, hand in hand. 

#joel miller #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #angst #hidden feelings #confession #angst trope

[kukuma-kit]

Holt Summer Waves

Ao’nung

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☆: * parings: Ao'nung x Omatikaya!reader

☆: * characters: Lo'ak, kiri, tuk, neytiri, jake, Tsireya, Tonowari, Ronal, Norm, Max, oc?

☆: * warnings: PROLONG TENSION before meeting Ao'nung, mentions of hunting(very long)

☆: * Na'vi glossary: Tsawksyul- sun lilly(flora), Tsahaylu- bond, siltan-word, Toruk Makto- Rider of last shadow, Marui Pod- huts to the Metkayina, yerik- Hexapede , Tawtsngal- panopyra(flora), Flate Skate Fish- type of fish

☆: * word count: 2280

☆: * Note(s): I have a habit of long intros huh, something I will need to work on lol. Feedback would be helpful!

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☆: * Summary: not being able to go with the sully family, you are stuck back at the Omatikaya clan and continue to enjoy yourself but Kiri has a seziure and now you're off to go with your uncles to see her.

Ze'tey skillfully navigated a sharp turn to avoid colliding with one of the robust rocks of Ayram Alusing otherwise known as the Hallelujah Mountains. The powerful flapping of her wings, combined with your tight grip on the queue harness and swift shifts in weight, made for an exhilarating ride. Looking over your shoulder, you spot Otxä on her ikran struggling to keep up with the vast environment and feel a sense of pride in your own flying skills as a Ikranä Maktoyu.

"you better keep up Otxä!" you shout out to her to which she replies back.

"I'll have you know that I am doing just fine!" she exclaims happily, even knowing that she was struggling somewhat.

As you feel the wind cut through your hair diving through the forest, you expertly maneuver through tight spaces and dodge looming tree trunks. Inside was a nearby clearing, you see a beautiful waterfall and let out a cheerful click. Ze'tey quickly swooped down into the water without hesitation, you lower your stance on Ze'tey's neck and break through the cascading water and into an open cave, expertly guiding Ze'tey through the sharp turns and steep ascents. The rush of the cool mist on your face heightens the experience with the strong huffs that seem to fill the surrounding air. The force of Ze'tey's breathing is so detectable that you can feel it in your own chest, a testament to the great power and energy that Ze'tey emanates.

As Otxä clicked her tongue and her ikran chirped, you instinctively looked behind you, and to your surprise, she was close enough to make you shout out. Feeling the immense force of Ze'tey, you held on tight as her wings gilded gracefully, propelling you both up towards an opening in the cave wall. The light slowly came into view as you scrambled out of the cave and soared above the lush trees. Along the way, you passed a group of Syaksuk, their playful voices echoing through the forest as they swung from the branches. You straightened up with Ze'tey as she cut through the air. Approaching the opening, you hear cheering and see a group of Na'vi pointing at you. Some are jumping with yips and others are on their ikran, perched at the top of the treelines some are even flying high above. The euphoric feeling of freedom and adventure rushes over you, bringing back nostalgic memories of past expeditions.

  Your hold tightens on the queue harness as you catch sight of Otxä, preparing for the impending action. Ze'tey huffs beside you, oozing confidence as she senses your plan formulating. She gracefully narrows her wings and tenses her legs, flapping furiously to ascend to great heights. With a sudden dive, you both vanish into the forest canopy. Otxä seems bewildered by your swift maneuvers, but her eagerness gets the best of her as she charges towards her ikan with a smug grin stretched across her face. "Let's do this!" she cheers, daring anyone to stand in her way. This moment feels reminiscent of the past, as if the memories of your first flight together are being relived one more time.

  the whirl of colors whipping past you as you are unexpectedly thrust out into a radiant clearing. The cheers and excitement of the Na'vi fill the air, the humidity of the dense jungle brimming with palpable energy. You notice a station banner in the distance and watch in awe as Otxä gasps in surprise and takes a nose dive to try and regain control. However, before she can get any closer, you whoop loudly as you soar past the banner and land safely on the other side. Turning to face Otxä, you feel your heart pounding in your chest as the rush of adrenaline and excitement overcomes you.

  Otxä's grin mirrored your own excitement in that moment as she raised your victorious hand up high. "Behold," she roared, "the daring ikran rider reigns supreme once again!" Her voice echoed throughout the clearing and mingled with the chorus of youthful cheers. This was no ordinary tradition; our annual ikran race began as a simple pastime to cure teenage boredom but had since grown into an event of great significance. when you unearthed the bow made from the wood of the late hometree - gifted to you by your uncle Norm, adorned with akula teeth at the ends. Your friends had then decided that the winner would keep the bow as a memento, breaking the Tsaheylu as Ze'tey huffs heavily. You grabbed Ze'tey softly as you spoke "mawey, mawey Ze'tey" quickly giving her some yerik.

Otxä spoke sweetly, her voice full of warmth and love as she expressed how proud she was of you. Throughout your life, she had been a maternal figure, her mother taking you in when your parents died during the Great Battle. As you grew up under Norm's care when Otxä's mother died shortly, you spent countless hours around the lab, absorbing all the knowledge you could. Despite this, nothing prepared you for the rush of emotions you felt every time you raced. With the eclipse looming, you and Otxä decided to race once more to the marui pod, resulting in Otxä's unexpected victory and two sleepy omatiyaka women.

Opening your eyes after inhaling the tantalizing aroma of Max's tsawksyul, you were hanging out with him in the lab, lending a helping hand. You were in the midst of transferring the Tawtsngal to another container, when Max suddenly burst into the room, visibly distressed. "__, hurry! I need you to come with us. Kiri has had a seizure," Max exclaimed in a panic. Without any hesitation, you nodded and hastily made your way out to fetch Ze'tey. But not before making a quick detour to your hut to bid farewell to Otxä, explaining your urgent absence, and collecting some of your most potent herbs and healing tonics, stuffing them into a homemade pouch.

You first met Kiri thanks to Otxä, who brought you both together. Although you never became extremely close, you knew her well enough to appreciate her gentle, yet sassy sarcastic sense of humor. Being with Otxä and Kiri was always fun, as they had a rebellious streak that made every adventure exciting. You even began to feel as if you had two older sisters. Kiri was particularly kind to you, often braiding your hair and bringing little gifts. But what you loved most was when she brought Tuk over, the most adorable girl you had ever seen. Whenever Kiri was around, you could not resist the urge to go on little adventures with Tuk.

As you climb aboard one of the impressive aircrafts, Norm recounts the events that took place as you make your way towards your destination. Little did you know that Ze'tey had tailed you until halfway through, at which point you decided to hop on her. Briskly, you arrived and landed right after them, disconnecting Tsaheylu before quickly following behind Toruk makto and Norm, with Max right by your side. Once you reached the designated spot, you set all the necessary equipment up and inspected the logs to ensure everything was in order. Promptly, you mix together a powerful blend of herbs to help Kiri calm down before whispering softly, "Sìltsan, Sìltsan" as she takes the concoction. Suddenly, the Tsahìk of the Metkayina clan and Tonowari's mate, Ronal, enters the scene as Toruk makto's partner bellows at everyone to leave.

Unsure of what to do, you stick around to help The Tsahìk with requirements she may need. The tension in the air is palpable as the group navigates through this difficult time together.

"__,"  Tsahìk's firm voice broke the painful silence as she skillfully dipped her needle into the small cup of liquid you offereas she did her acupuncture. Tuk leans into your side as she watches her sister, you then get up when Kiri wakes up seeing her family members come in. You didn't want to crowd her any more than she was. You go to the Tsahìk, seeing as she was exhausted and wanting to carry her basket. "Oel ngati kameie, Tsahik"( I see you)

Tsahìk glanced up as you approached her with an offer to carry her basket. She eyed the young one warily, questioning their intentions, but decided to accept their help as she was too exhausted to carry it herself. "That would save me the effort indeed. Go ahead," she replied gruffly. "Why does a young one want to carry my stuff?especially that of omatikaya, do you not wish to see your family?" she questions your intentions. 

"I would like to help the Tsahìk, as I would like to be useful and I am not needed there" you answer back as she hands over the bundle of supplies, Following her out of the marui pod, you catch a glimpse of a breathtaking metkayina girl approaching the Tsahìk. As the Tsahìk takes note of your hunter bow, she inquires, "You have experience as a hunter?'"

not expecting her question you look at her as you hold onto your bow softly. "Yes, I am a hunter with my clan" you reply softly.

"Ah, that is good to see. It is always nice to meet people who are capable of protecting their clan and their people" she replies shortly after, seeing her daughter come into close contact.

"mother, is everything alright?" Immediately recognizing her as Tsireya, you gesture a greeting to which she does back. "Hello sweetheart, She has awoken" Tsahìk replies as they walk beside each other. You just followed silently as you start to arrive main village area. Handing the basket over to Tsireya, you turn to see Tonowari hoping off his skimwing, quickly gesturing respect you go back to see Lo'ak talking with two metkayina boys. "Lo'ak!"

As you sprint towards the group, memories of Lo'ak flood your mind, like the times Tuk spoke passionately about her brother and even invited you to dinner. Unfortunately, Neytiri wasn't too thrilled about your presence since she did not know you. Nevertheless, you approach the group, and Lo'ak greets you with a warm embrace, proceeding to the two captivated young boys gazing at you with wonder. "Who's that?" one of them asks as you join the group - a perfect chance to tell them.

"__ te Raylu'itu and you?" you spoke with a firm voice as you gestured back to them. " Ao'nung te Tskaha, Ronal'itan"introduces briefly looking you over as his friend smiles. "I am Roxto! you are friend of Kiri?" he asks to which you nod.(__ daughter of Raylu, Ao'nung of Tsahik, son of Ronal)

"Indeed, more or less," you reply with a hint of excitement. Kiri found solace in Neytiri’s embrace, while Lo'ak was entrusted with the task of fetching some food. Intrigued by their imminent adventure to the hunting grounds, you eagerly join them on their journey. Lo'ak and Ao'nung go to the edges after grabbing saddles, calling out and clapping their hands. Two Ilu appear, they waste no time strapping on their saddles and leaping onto the creatures' backs. "Makto ko!" Lo'ak exclaims once he's settled, he looks at Ao'nung then you. "You're gonna have to ride with Ao'nung, Ion got room cuz" (let's ride!)

Before Ao'nung could protest, he swims off. "Au! Za'u!" Ao'nung gruffs out in annoyance as he rushes you to get on to which you comply.

Venturing deep into the swampy forest, you've honed the skill of breathing underwater to a tee. That, however, wasn't the main problem as it was a bit hard to stay on the ilu with the water gushing roughly from Ao'nungs Ilu pace. Feeling your unsteady presence behind him, he tenderly secures his grip on your thigh, ensuring you remain firmly in place as your ride swiftly continues through the captivating waters you quickly arrive near an area with a school of Flat Skate Fish. After disembarking, you swim together with your companions behind the vibrant coral reef, and watch intently as Ao'nung and Lo'ak try their hand at spearfishing. After some failed attempts, y'all decide that your catch was enough to feed your families as you head above the surface to breathe, followed by the two.

"latsi, forest girl" Ao'nung tells you as he calls out to his Ilu again, mounting it as you follow in suit. you look at Lo'ak and compliment his useage of the speargun and hunting skills. "Those fish were pretty fast!" Lo'ak laughs as he agrees.(keep up, forest girl).

"of course tho, my hunting skills were no match!"

"quit flirting you too, we need to head back. Makto ko!" Ao'nung impatiently urges you to stop flirting and head back, you quickly grab onto him, eager to return. Lo'ak is close behind, eager to race. Ao'nung agrees and before you know it, you're whizzing past corals and other obstacles, gripping onto Ao'nung for dear life. As you approach Awa'atlu, you burst through the water's surface and take a deep breath. Ao'nung chuckles at the sight of you, "You look like small lips over there," he says. You hop off, Lo'ak following suit. Bewildered, you ask Ao'nung what he means by that.(let's ride)

"He was worse than a Metkayina baby learning our ways, he still swims slow" Lo'ak glared at him, already annoyed that Ao'nung beat him again.You chuckle as you help with the bundle, dropping some off to the sully's before you follow Ao'nung to his Marui pod. "Oel ngati kameie, Ronal, Tonowari" you gesture to them as Ao'nung lets you in, helping you put the fish up and Tsireya drags you away to tell you that the sully's want you so you rush back, seeing Norm and Max you check in with them. "Hey, we're gonna have you stay since you have herbs and medical stuff they'll need help in" Norm tells you as you nod, Max and just came back with your stuff.

"Am I really leaving my friends behind?" you anxiously inquire, but your worries dissipate as Norm nods reassuringly. "Don't worry, kid, it's just for a few months," he gives you a friendly pat on the head before hopping into the aircraft. You watch as he waves goodbye, then make your way to the marui pod, feeling exhausted. You're so tired that you decide to skip dinner and slip away into a peaceful slumber in a spare bed.

#ao'nung #avatar way of the water imagine #ao'nung imagine #avatar #atwow x reader #aonung x reader #kuniblurbs #suggestiono #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water 2022 #avatar ao'nung #x reader #imagine #female reader #Holt Summer Waves

[robynlilyblack]

Something sweet

Part 1

bodyguard! James x fem! maid! reader

Summary: James lands a new long term position for a rich family in the countryside, however he gets lost on his way there and has to ask directions from a mystery girl and her dog, little does he know he'll be working closely with her in the near future

Warnings: swearing, strangers to coworkers to eventual lovers, mentions of past relationships, cheating (neither james or reader), dangerous work environment, eating, food, and sex, first meetings, mutual pining, Alex being his iconic self, Bruce being the best boy

A/n: 4.2k words, day three of my advent calendar is part one of my bodyguard james fic! part 2 may or not be a later day ;) this is all set in a muggle au, James is in his mid 20s and reader her early 20s

Navigation | James Potter Masterlist

James was stopped at the side of the road, engine turned off to save fuel, eyebrows pinched as he checked the directions he was given against the map. He was certain he had gone the right way; he’d never gotten lost for a job…although this job was a little different than the others. 

Usually he was only hired for a few months, a year or two tops, but this one would likely be indefinitely. He wasn’t complaining, though he was never without work he was without a permanent address. You would think seeing the world would be magical, that thrill of seeing something new every day would be exciting, but living in hotels and never settling had slowly taken its toll.

That thrill he once found in it had an expiration date, life became boring as he was never in one place long enough to form any real connections. He still wrote to friends, attended a few of their weddings a year prior, and always made sure to see them every couple of months. Yet it wasn’t enough, hearing them talk about having children and starting families had him earning for it too. He’d tried it twice before but they ended the same, the distance pulling them apart and, on top of that, back then he didn’t exactly take the safest jobs, leading both of his former partners to be in constant worry

They were both married now, he still phoned Lily from time to time and of course he saw Regulus being Sirius’ brother and all. There was no bad blood, the feelings had dissipated yet he envied them just a little for finding their someone, something he’d give anything to have now

“I went down here…and then I remember seeing that school because it was creepy as all feck…so if I go down here…” he extends the syllables as his finger traces the road “...wait” his eyebrows furrow deeper, looking out of his window to see any kind of landmark that can help 

Looking around there was deep forestry on his left, some branches at the bottom still coated in snow as the sun hadn’t melted it just yet, lining the road for as far as he could see and ahead there was a bend that seemed to lead him off towards another deep treeline that looked a lot older, which was promising considering he was told the estate was established in the 15th century. He then turned to his right, seeing a small wall running down the opposite side of the road, it was crumpled in places, the gaps revealing more of the lush frost dew field behind it, shining 

He reaches down the side of the door, rolling the window down gently, it was a crisp morning, but exaggerated by the cars heater making soft wisps appear as its heat hits the outside air. He pokes his head out a little further, trying to spot anyone he could ask for help in order to save himself returning to the farmer from earlier, who despite being a lovely gent was completely incomprehensible with how thick his accent was

Just as he was about to give up, he hears a giggle, hears perking up at the sweet sound, so much, he jolts his head up to see whoever it was over the wall, only to whack it on the doors roof

“Fuck” he groans, rubbing the top of his head, blinking quickly to ensure he didn’t knock out one of his contacts before he quickly scrambles out of the car and across the tarmac, stopping half way to curse again as he runs back over, dipping in the window to grab the map

“Hey!” he waves at the figure as he turns back towards them, jogging across the road and onto the grass verge, gently leaning over the wall

That catches the figure's attention and they turn around to look at him, that's when he sees you. You looked a little shocked to see him, which he’s not surprised at; he hadn't seen any other cars pass by in the time he’d spent stewing away with his map nor the drive up the road. 

The next thing he notices is the dog that companies you eyeing him then looking to you for what he assumes is a command. James figures some farmers daughter, or maybe the daughter of whose estate he was headed too. He hopes for the former as you draw closer, the dogs tail beginning to wag as it follows on behind, gaining a treat on the way for good behaviour

“Can you help me?” he asks, holding up the map “I appear to be a tad lost” he chuckles trying to lighten the mood and let you know he isn’t some weirdo

You still seem nervous yet your shoulders have relaxed, the dog looking more excited now he’s no longer a potential threat. He drinks in your figure as you approach the wall, you look sweet, perfect even in your little bobble hat and scarf, sturdy looking boots at least a size too big adored with thick brown socks poking out at the top, battered jeans littered with old and new paw prints, and finally a woolly jumper under a chunky green parka

“I’m looking for the Roseberry Estate?” he asks when you don’t say anything, trying his best not to smile too much when he looks over the wall and sees your companion staring up at him fondly with big grey eyes that reminded him of an old friend

“Umm” you whisper and he barely hears it, watching as you awkwardly take the map from his hands and shift to the side so he can see it “You’re here” you point to the road and James smiles a little funny, thankful he’s on the right road yet confused as to how he overshot it “You started from the city?” you wonder and he nods, catching your eye for a brief moment before you shy away again towards the map “You’ve accidently taken the long way around, but it’s no harm done, just keep going you’ll find water on your left and look out for the sign, it’ll be on your right. Oh, and if you can’t see the water anymore you’ve gone too far” you tell him quietly with the most charming giggle escaping your lips at the end

He smiles gently re-taking the map, but not folding it up just yet as he traces over the intersection, he made a wrong turn at “So what you’re saying is I managed to get so lost I still ended up where I needed to be” he barks a laugh, thinking of how Remus would dub this with the famous Potter luck as he folds up the map and shoves the map into his back pocket. 

As the paper slips in he feels his suspenders shift, laying uncomfortably on his shoulder, however as he fixes it, he misses the way your eyes fixate on his movements, on his hands, but particularly on the slight reveal of his holster under his fleece lined jacket

“I…umm” his eyes drift back to you, noticing you seem a little flustered and wonders if its for the reasons he’s finding himself hoping for “I need to get going” you slowly step backwards, trying to retreat in such a way he wouldn’t notice and it’s kind of adorable

“Of course, thank you for the help” he smiles and you give him a little nod back “Have a lovely day sweetheart” he adds, earning the smallest of smiles back and an even smaller ‘you too’ before you turn away and walk through the field and up the makeshift path, your dog following along behind, tail wagging happily

James smirks, turning around and checking the road before jogging back to the car quickly. He was freezing, only masking the shivers so he would look tough in front of you that seemed used to this kind of weather. He himself should have been, hell he went to a private school little ways south of here in his youth but years of jet setting from hot country to hotter country had left him shuddering now

After rolling up the window and getting warm again he presses his foot to the clutch and begins to the turn the ignition but stops and curses “Shit, her name” he scolds himself for forgetting “Always ask the pretty girl their name…fuck and the dog…dammit why didn’t we pet the dog” he scolds further, knowing his next letter to Sirius was going to earn a chide reply for the latter

You took your time walking back to the estate, breathing in the mid-morning air and enjoying your down time as you would be working again this afternoon. The ground crunched beneath you, the morning sun hadn’t quite hit the trail just yet and thawed the mud, making it easier to traverse. Not that you nor Bruce would ever complain, he was living his best life, so much that you honestly feared his tail would break with how hard it was wagging

He stops about 40 yards ahead at the corner of the path, turning back to wait on you catching up before going again. You smile at that, giving him a signal as you draw closer, causing him to patter up to your right side, around behind you to slow and walk at your pace on your left side

“Good boy”

Dipping into your pocket you grab a treat, gifting it to him and he takes it sweetly, tongue lapping it up before he picks up his pace and wanders out in front of you again. You adored mornings like this, just you and him, but as you reached the home stretch nerves filled you as you thought of the man you met earlier

He was beyond handsome, too handsome to live around here, a pretty face like his should be seen by the world and not the 50 or so people that lived near or in the estate grounds. He dressed like a tourist too, his shoes too nice for the mud, jacket that was quite clearly bought at the store everyone went to when they first got off the plane, and of course, the car that had no place on roads like this during winter

You weren’t surprised when he asked you where the house was, but the thing that did surprise you was the holster. You assumed he must have been one of the family's friends, as there was a dinner later this evening you would be waiting at. So, it was a shock to realise he must be the new bodyguard, the one other staff were raving about. He just looked too sweet. Sure, he was built like a rugby player with broad shoulders and clear muscles, tall too, but his face, hair, eyes, they were all too kind and soft to be in such a profession

“Happy to be home, boy?” You ask Bruce, scratching his ear as he circles you gleefully and of course he is, as the moment he’s in he gets breakfast

You were happy too, over your time working and living on the estate it had become your home, the fellow staff, your family, however as of this afternoon you would no longer be the new girl, despite holding it for the last 3 years, that would go to that handsome stranger

“Y/n!” Your head shoots up to see your best friend, Alex, waving at you before being greeted by Bruce “Sorry boy, hello to you too” chuckling he crouch’s down to give Bruce a proper hello

“Hey” you say softly as you approach, taking off your scarf and hat as you feel yourself heating up again as you approach the side door “He’s just sucking up so he can get extra you know that right?” you remind your friend and he gives you a pointed look before chuckling

“Let me live in my fantasy sunshine, where I pretend, he loves me and not yesterday's leftover beef, okay?” he pleads and you put your hands up, giggling yourself as you head in, but still making sure to kick the frost and mud from your boots off on the last step before entering

“Was it today the new bodyguard is coming?” you check as you take a seat on one of the small chairs just inside, looking up through the double doors of the smaller east wing kitchen as Bruce comes to sit on the floor in front of you, waiting patiently for Alex to return with food as he wasn’t allowed in there

“Yeah” he confirms, coming back out with two dog bowls, one with food, the other water “You think he’ll last longer than the previous one?” He chuckles, placing the bowls down “Good boy” he grants Bruce permission to feast, which he does so promptly

“Hopefully” you giggle

The position for a new bodyguard has been a cursed one, not for any dangerous reason but for the fact one of the family’s children had a rather scandalous habit of cheating on her husband with every bodyguard they had ever hired. Funnily enough your job had the same curse with one of the families’ sons, however you never let anything happen, simply refusing his advances and he never again passed normal flirting which gained him your respect, and yourself that of the families. 

“I think I met him” you say removing your shoes and fluffy socks, revealing your tight clad feet underneath

“Seriously?” Alex’s eyes light up, smirking as you stand and slip off your coat, humming in confirmation “What’s he like?”

“Handsome” you feel your cheeks heat bending down to pick up the empty food bowl and half drank water bowl before carrying them through into the servants break room “Too handsome” you giggle, placing the water bowl back down with the food one underneath for now

“For real? You sure it wasn’t one of the investors they invited for dinner?” Alex asks, taking a seat on the bench facing away from your locker

“No, I thought that too until I saw his holster” you say, opening your locker and softly taking your freshly pressed uniform out

“Is he prettier than the last ones?” Alex inquires as he begins petting Bruce “Hey bud”

You feel yourself flush “By a mile, younger too, probably mid to late twenties?” you reply smiling as you see Bruce's leg kicks at Alex’s scratches before slipping off your jeans and jumper

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement “You know I can feel the heat from your cheeks…hey!” he chuckles as you shove him gently “You fancy him” he states

“I barely know him; we spoke for all of one minute” you needless defend as you shimmy into your skirt

“That wasn’t a no…oi…she’s such a meany isn’t she Brucey” he earns another playful hit but his attempts to sway Bruce only earn in a funny look “Wow you’ve got him wrapped around your finger” he notes

“I do” you slid your hands into the sleeves of your blouse “Don’t I boy” you lean over Alex’ shoulder to pat Bruce's head, causing him to yip and shuffle foot to foot, arse wiggling excitedly “He…” you climb over the bench and join your friend, beginning to button your shirt as you do “...he called me sweetheart”

“Sweetheart, eh?” he nudges his nose with Bruce’s “You hear that boy? Your gal might have found a new favourite” he says, making the dogs head tilt 

“No” you leave the last few buttons and cup Bruce's face, steering him towards you instead “No one can replace my favourite boy, not even the handsome stranger”

“You replacing me darlin?” 

Yours, Alex and Bruce's heads shoot up to see Patrick Roseberry, the family’s youngest son, ages with you, and your main boss, along with…the handsome stranger from earlier

“Sir” you stand bowing your head a little, cheeks feeling hot as the stranger tilts his head, clearly connecting the dots “No sir I mean…sorry sir” you cringe, cheeks on fire now while Patrick just waves it off with a small chuckle

“Mornin’” Alex nods his head with a small finger salute, standing up casually and earring an amused eyebrow raise from Mr Handsome

“Oh hey there Brucey” Patrick kneels down, petting the dog as he approaches “Y/n and Alex taking good care of you boy?” he wonders

You smile at that; Bruce was originally raised to be a gun dog but never quite had the same drive for the hunt as his brothers and sisters. You still remember the day they realised it wasn’t meant to be; you were helping move new produce into the kitchen while they were out training when a small group of hares ran by. Every dog started to chase them while Bruce sat just watched them, not caring in the slightest, Patrick didn’t want to give him up so he gifted him to yours and Alex’s care 

“Is that his name?” the stranger finally speaks, drawing your eyes and earning a small smirk from him before he kneels down to pet Bruce, who seems very happy to see him again and gain some ear scratches this time now there was no wall in the way

“Oh” Patrick chuckles, standing back up and looking towards you and Alex “This is James Potter, the new bodyguard, I’m giving him the grand tour” 

James? It suits him, you think with a small smile, rocking on your feet as your hands clasp behind your back

“Hi” James looks up, catching your eye once more as he greets you but those fine eyes soon travel down like they did earlier, his smirk widening as he stands up and you suddenly remember the last few buttons

“Sorry” you quickly do them up, turning away slightly as you do

Patrick lets out a small laugh “Sorry darlin, should have knocked first” he cringes, rubbing the back of his neck while his cheeks tint a little while you whisper a small ‘it’s okay’ “We should keep the tour going though, the dinner is in a few hours and I’m sure you wish to get settled and unpack” he tells James as he walks further into the room 

“Sounds good…see ya boy” James whispers the last part to Bruce, giving him one last clap before he watches the dog return to your side 

“This is the staff break room, you’ll spend most of your down time here. Y/n, Alex or one of our older maids will prepare your clothes in the morning so you never need to worry about what to wear, except for our balls, we outsource labour for those so the staff can join in, my grandmother set it up you see…” 

Patrick goes on for a while, explaining some house rules, etiquette, locker assignment and meal times. Alex takes this time to sit back down and pet Bruce before yours and his shift starts and Bruce has to be left on his own. You do the same, your movement catching James’ attention briefly, before he returns to listening and you pull your formal black pumps out from under the bench, slipping them on your feet as you try not to stare too long at James’ arse, those trousers are…snug

“Pervert” Alex whispers and you gasp quietly, gladly not attracting much attention

“Shut up” you hiss back “You’re looking too” you mumble

“Course I am, if he wasn’t already making eyes at you, you don’t think I wouldn’t” he wiggles his eyebrows

“We aren’t making eyes…like I said we literally just met” you defend yourself whilst still stealing glances, eyes a little higher this time, melting at the way the shirt is just that little bit too tight around his biceps and shoulders, the man was perfection

“Exactly, just met and the chemistry is flying…” he whispers back, earning another nudge but that doesn’t stop him or you from continuing to chatter about it whilst you get your little cleaning cart ready 

James notices the bickering, eyes flicking quickly over to you, smiling at the interaction. If he hadn’t heard your statement coming into the room, he might have read yours and Alex’s relationship differently. His pride was a bit higher now than you thought him handsome, more so that you felt the need to tell your friend about it to such a degree you had to assure Bruce he was still your favourite boy

“If you follow me, I’ll show you the security room” his attention is pulled back to Patrick, who’s moving towards the single exit door on the other side 

“Course” James starts to follow but turns back to say goodbye “See you three around” he gives you, Bruce and Alex a wave, but his eyes linger on you a little longer and flashes you a smirk 

As he follows Patrick out, he replays the little smile and nose scrunch that took over your features before you shied away, it was same one from earlier

“I’m glad we ran into Alex and Y/n, you’ll be working with them quite often” Patrick smiles, and James finds himself doing the same “They are based in the east wing, as will you be” 

James hums, eyes tracing over all the portraits and random pieces of decor that were most likely worth more than he’d make in a lifetime, he does avert his eyes at the mounted antlers though, for some reason those always gave him the creeps

“Have they been with you long?” he makes light chit chat, returning his eyes to the man before him

“Alex has been here for about 5 years, he’s ages with you…oh sorry Linsey…on you go” Patrick starts, pushing open one of the large double doors and accidentally startling an older woman, adorned in similar clothing to yourself

James gives the women a small smile, which she returns before giving a small ‘thank you’ to Patrick for holding the door as she passes by before they do the same

“Sorry, what was I saying?” Patrick asks himself, turning back to James before his eyes light up “Oh yeah…Alex is great, you need anything go to him”

“Noted” James nods “What about the girl? Y/n” he prompts casually, trying not to seem too eager

Patrick’s smile widens “Y/n was the last person we hired for a permanent position before you, about…hell, three years ago now” he chuckles “Just down these stairs” he directs and James hums “She’s wonderful, treats everyone, especially Bruce well, beautiful too” he rambles a little and James feels just a twinge of jealousy

“Yeah?” he gives him a look, smirk playing on his lips as Patricks turns back to look at him, palm on the door

His cheeks tint, delaying walking through “I may have fancied her a fair bit in my youth” he confesses taking his hand off of the door, stepping to the side to glance back up the stairwell to check no one was there before continuing “When I was 18, we had a flurry of new maids because I well…” he scratches the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle “...you can imagine, young rich bachelor and all that”

“Course” James nods, remembering a certain friend being the same once upon a time “So why did y/n stick?” he wonders, hoping he wasn’t about to be told you and Patrick were secretly an item back in the day

“She got the job despite having no experience since they assumed she wouldn’t last. I, of course, flirted and she’d get all shy but after I tried to kiss her she…recoiled, then she gave me the sweetest and cutest rejection you’d ever seen” he chuckles, his face clear of any malice as he recalls the memory, in fact James could say the man spoke of it like it was a fond one

James joins him “Speaking of openings, I was surprised there was one going” he gently changes the subject as he had wondered why such a position would be available and on such short notice “What happened to the last one?”

Patrick cringes “As I used to have a thing for the maids, my sister has a thing for the bodyguards” he admits and James’ eyes widen

“Oh” he lets out a nervous laugh “Should I be worried?” he asks warily

“Are you going to sleep with my older sister?” Patrick crosses his arms, an amused smirk on his face

James barks a laugh “Nah, not my type” he winks causing Patrick to laugh as well

“You’ll be fine then” he presses hand to the door again “Any other sensitive questions? Ask now or…wait till we’re in another stairwell” 

James laughs, thinking for a second “How does the family feel about staff dating…fellow staff members?” he asks a little untoward, hands finding his back pockets

Patricks head tilts “My sister and brother don’t approve, but my parents and myself don’t mind as long as it doesn’t create any security risks or effect the quality of your work, and you disclose it of course” he explains before smirking “The handsome stranger she mentioned when we walked in…he was you, right?” 

James chuckles “Hope so, either that or there was another one gallivanting about this morning” he jests but his face soon softens “There just something…”

“...sweet about her” Patrick answers for him with a slight smile and James nods

“Yeah, something sweet”

Thank you for reading ♡

#james potter and reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter and you #james potter and y/n #james potter fluff #james potter fanfiction #james potter #james and reader #james x reader #james potter fic #bodyguard!james #bodyguard!au #marauders fic #robbiesadventcalendar

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part xii

And so, spring came at last to Verdigris. The frost melted, the trees bloomed, and the town traded its pallor for the lush green of new growth. The dreary cold went away, and with it went Ace, off to dig himself another grave—because what was the harm, really, in taking another shot at cheating death?

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I do.”

Basil kicked at the dirt with his good leg, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers. Ace poked reverently at a newly sprouted bean plant.

“It’s just… What if you’re not ready?”

With a sigh, Ace straightened up from the garden bed.

“I’m ready, Basil. All healed up. I’ve got folks waiting up for me, and I don’t want to keep them worrying any longer than I already have.”

Please don’t go, Basil thought, I can’t lose you again. They’d kill you if they knew.

But Basil didn’t say any of that. What he said instead was:

“I know, just… Be careful, alright?”

In response, Ace smiled, like he knew what Basil meant anyway. He often did.

“I’ll do my best.”

They lapsed into silence again in the garden. The morning sun finally breached the treeline, dappling the hillside in shades of white and gold. Basil breathed deep and wrapped himself in the quiet moment, committing it to memory in case there was never another one like it.

Just in case.

* * *

What Basil was not expecting in the slightest was to open the front door a mere week or so later to find Ace shuddering on Frida’s doorstep, haggard and dirty, an old bow on his back, with a young girl of about twelve or thirteen at his side.

“Hey,” Ace said.

“Hey yourself.” Basil looked between them. “You know, when I said you’d be back, I didn’t mean right away.”

His attempt at levity went unappreciated. Ace looked at him, pained. Something had gone deeply, horribly wrong.

“Come in, both of you,” Basil insisted, opening the door wide. “Frida!”

Frida came hurrying into the hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Basil, dear, who’s at the—oh, gods above.”

“Hi, Frida,” Ace said. “This is Petra. She’s my friend—”

“Honorary sister,” the girl, Petra, interjected. Ace rolled his eyes, as if it were a private joke.

“Fine, sure, whatever.” Ace shuffled uncomfortably where he stood, while Frida just gaped at him. “She… we don’t have anywhere to go, anymore. Do you think you could—“

“Basil, keep an eye on that soup for me, will you? Come on, dear,” Frida said, guiding Petra by the shoulder toward the clinic. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Ace has told me so much about you.”

Petra went without argument, though she did look over her shoulder at Basil and Ace, eyeing the pair of them with a strange expression. Ace followed Basil silently into the kitchen and dropped into one of the chairs at the table. The air was fragrant with herbs and spices cooking in the large pot on the stove. Basil stirred it carefully with a wooden spoon, just for something to do.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He wasn’t sure he needed one. It was clear the worst had happened, after all—the other shoe had finally dropped, and Ace was once again lucky to have escaped with his life.

“I should have gone back sooner,” Ace said hoarsely. “I could have—“

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

“They killed him. Bertrand’s dead, Basil. There wasn’t even a body left behind, just nothing but ash. If I’d been there, I could have surrendered—“

“They wouldn’t have spared him, Ace. You know they wouldn’t.”

Basil doled out a bowl of soup and placed it in front of Ace, who didn’t so much as reach for his spoon despite how hungry the journey must have made him. He sat motionless while Basil scooped out another helping and sat across from him, eyes searching. He, too, didn’t eat a single bite.

“Petra used to remind me of you,” Ace finally said, eyes crinkling with the admittance. “Optimistic. Headstrong. Not afraid of anything.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now all I see is my own grief. It was supposed to be different for her, Basil.” Ace frowned into his untouched soup, voice going soft. “I did this to her.”

In the silence that followed, Basil thought back to that first day, screaming himself hoarse in half-dead terror. He remembered the guilt, the sorrow, the many days spent unable to walk. Basil thought even further back, years before, to those peaceful days they’d spent together as children. That version of Basil had been long gone for quite some time now, and he wasn’t ever coming back. Optimism was a hard-earned burden he stubbornly carried, not a prize to be bartered for.

Before Basil could say anything of the sort, however, Petra came slinking back into the room with Frida on her heels, looking quite a bit less worse for wear than when they’d arrived. Her face was clean and her short-cropped hair smoothed out, with bandages plastered over the cuts that rogue branches and brambles had left on her skin. She peered at Ace knowingly, solemnly, as she sunk into the chair beside him, eyes roving over his sullen expression. Basil felt a kinship at that.

For his part, Ace was still hunched over his bowl, face and hands smeared with dirt and grime. He still needed to get cleaned up, once they got this situation sorted out. Basil would probably have to force him.

“You boys need to eat,” Frida chided softly, pouring soup for herself and Petra, who muttered a quiet thanks.

“I need to ask,” Basil said quietly. “Did anyone else make it?”

“I got mostly everyone out before the royal guard came,” Petra said. “But some folks didn’t want to leave. Bertrand…”

“Stubborn old man,” Ace muttered with subdued fondness.

“They got out,” Frida repeated. “I don’t know what you mean, dear. Where are they now?”

Petra looked up from her soup, eyes hard and pained, and said, “I don’t know.”

In that moment, Basil’s blood ran hot, and he thought he finally understood, after all these years, what it was that had kept Hank going, day after day. How long did this have to go on? How could anyone let this go on? But what could Basil do?

Ace had stumbled into something far greater than either of them, something on the level of kings. And what had that gotten him? Another abandoned home, more missing friends, another dead guardian? There were no heroes and villains, no monsters come alive from fairy tales. There were only two kinds of people: those with power, and those without. It was a simple answer, but then again, those were always the hardest to accept.

That night, long after the soup had gone cold and Petra had been set up with a cot in Frida’s bedroom, Basil kept Ace company on the front step, both of them too tired to sleep. The sky was clear, and full of stars, but no matter how much Basil tried, he couldn’t discern any meaningful pattern among them. After all these years, that was it—he was all out of answers.

“So,” he said. “What are you going to do now?”

Ace picked at a loose thread on his pant leg and shrugged.

“I can’t leave Petra behind like that again. She was all alone, waiting for me for months. She deserves a better life than that.”

“Then stay,” Basil said. “Stay for now, stay forever, I don’t mind. You know I’ll always be here.”

Ace chuckled. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to stay put like that for long.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about Petra?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ace said with a glare, though there wasn’t any heat behind it.

Basil leaned back on his palms, searching the sky.

“You should rest,” he said. “Live the best life you can, for yourselves. It’s simple, but it’s enough.”

Ace nodded, though his expression told Basil he wasn’t convinced.

“I’m going to sleep.” He pushed to his feet and made his way back inside. “Goodnight, Basil.”

“Goodnight.”

The screen door slammed shut, leaving Basil alone in the quiet night. He pulled his knife from his belt loop and turned it over in his palm. Moonlight glinted off the blade.

Basil kept his silent vigil well into the night, until the entire hillside fell quiet and even the crickets went to sleep. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade all the while.

Just in case.

#HELL YEAH BABEY WE'RE BACK #this chapter took me months and it was like being flayed alive the whole time!!!! #this isn't even edited i just want it out of my sight!!! #o basilicum #the heartless #aro writing #writing #creative writing #op #long post

[sincerexsiren]

“Trinity baby- are you okay?”

She didn't answer at first, laying in the lush grass where the treeline met the river. She wasn't sure how long she had been there but she'd made her sacrifice in the dead of night, when everything was calm and still. No one needed her then so it seemed like the best time. But now the sun was up and kissing her skin.

Her hair layout across the green strands of grass, speckled with...dark, now black splatters which might have been red. She had been sure he was out in the river today, probably not coming home for a bit. She knew he needed the salt of the water.

In their many months together, she had managed to keep this from him, shelter him from the worry. Her eyes blinked in a daze, slightly glazed over. When her lips parted they were chapped and stuck together, no sound coming out for a moment.

"I... it's fine." Even those three words seemed to take effort and exhaust her. "I just need a bit to rest."

#Ohhhh boy #c; ulysses #deepseawarlock

[beyondthebackup]

[Submitted]: The Red Note

The note and the indented description of its location was submitted by an anonymous author.

Everything dies.

Normally, though, Backup sees it coming.

This is the grave of his childhood.

B gazes up at the crown of the mighty tree that used to make him feel so incredibly small, now frail and withering as it towers above him. Scarce sunlight slips through the yew’s crooked fingers like liquid gold.

A kaleidoscope of shadows flicker across B’s face as he passes beneath the glittering canopy and crushes its leaves underfoot.

The old yew looms over moss freckled lichen, arching branches like phoenix wings drawing it up from the ground in one last demonstration of life’s defiance, an evergreen’s final breath drawn from pallid-gray-green to malignant gold. Surrounded by sightless spectators, there is no witness when it is unjustly slain. In death, it remains as silent as the secrets it’s kept for all the lovers who carved their names into its flesh, all the dabblers in death who stole its carmine heirs from its branches. But the untimely cascade of coniferous needles reveals a hidden missive;

—a scarlet envelope left nailed beneath a skeletal branch.

B can still make out the wounds he inflicted year after year on red-brown bark, a tradition stolen from the English children. Not letters but tally marks, counting down to the day A would finally look up at him, brow furrowed with thinly-veiled rancor as he realized B was taller than him now and always would be. A never said anything, of course he didn’t, but he didn’t have to. B knew each time A returned to this tree he’d see the evidence: a gash that sits perfectly atop B’s head when he leans against the trunk, '182' carved proudly beside it. While A's gradually stammered to just above 172, Backup's growth sailed smoothly beyond what A would ever reach. The last two marks, 172 and 167, were made without Alternative's participation.

Risking splinters, Backup drags his hand down the years notch by notch and wonders exactly when the ancient thing died; in his memories, in that photo, it is emerald, lush and verdant as evergreens should be, unless…

He comes upon a hole that must have been drilled into the trunk; he absentmindedly sticks his finger inside, noting it to be about 1-2 inches deep. Backup quickly realizes that there are several identical holes around the circumference of the tree, along with multiple cuts exposing its vulnerable white flesh. Even the grass and foliage at the base are dying.

B can make out the massive thing from an impressive distance and recalls a few moments from the past year or so — flashes of yellow in the corner of his eye during football games and smoke breaks. He didn’t think much of it at the time. It’s just a tree, after all. Like everything else from those days, it faded into the background.

But this is death by a thousand cuts. These injuries are precise, deep and deliberate. This was a murder, carried out over days, weeks, months…

Whoever killed this tree did so slowly and left it to rot from the inside…as if hoping the poor thing could feel pain. But…why? Why this tree…?

It feels ridiculous to care about what killed a tree, but it’s even more ridiculous to care enough about a tree to kill it…

Something catches his eye

—red like a fresh incision.

B recognizes the glint of a nail and his body responds in an instant. The wounds from that day Alternative hunted him like an animal in these woods have only recently healed.

Memories of steel biting into his shoulder, the ice-tipped fang tearing through his thigh, the searing ache as he dug pseudo-bullets out of his skin and the grim reality that he nearly lost an eye haunt him like a vengeful ghost.

The last time he found something interesting nailed to a tree,

A was there.

Waiting.

As if it were an ambush.

B’s pulse quickens and he scans the treeline for movement, taking the time to become fully aware of his surroundings. Alternative still has that damned crossbow; despite his best efforts, he hasn’t been able to find it. Still, A is unlikely to make the same move twice in a row. That would make things too easy.

This place has always been still and quiet, and now is no exception. Eventually, B relaxes into the nostalgia.

He is alone.

There is no mistaking it; another hidden note, but this time, placed well out of his — or anyone else’s — reach. He’d have to climb the tree to retrieve it.

It appears he’ll have to put in some work this time.

B is confident when he begins his climb. He’s scaled this tree a dozen times before, although not since his youth.

It’s no trouble for him at all to jump and grab the first branch but, it lets out an unfamiliar groan, protesting his weight…he is stronger than he used to be, but heavier too, and these branches aren’t as wide as they once were.

He will have to be careful.

The next branch is the same, creaking under him like cheap furniture as he pulls himself up to straddle it. This tree is dying and making a fuss of it, bark crumbling under his fingers as he swings his leg up and tries to scale the third branch quickly.

Nothing feels stable enough to rest for long, especially not this last branch, high enough for a perfect view but not so high you can’t get back down. Years ago he and A would sit on it for hours, but B suspects that even grabbing it might be too dangerous now.

But he wants that letter.

He doesn’t have a choice.

B takes a deep breath and for a moment feels like a child again, grasping at the limb with blind faith. His scuffed fingertips straining at the edges as it moans, B reaches further, stretching his grasp into the open air. The limb begins to tenderly pop, but he won’t make it if he gives up now. He pulls with the full force of his strength, bringing his face into the sun’s unobscured light; he squeezes his eyes shut as it blinds him just before he hears the loud crack beneath his fingers, the next moment he is in free fall.

He shouts and birds scatter, there is no time to think before he

hits

the

ground.

"Nnnnngh…"

B groans out in pain, his head is throbbing so hard he almost regrets regaining consciousness. His back and limbs are sparking with a sharp agony and it takes some time before he dares to even move them.

Nothing is broken, and he doesn’t feel too disoriented. He struggles, slowly, into a sitting position and realizes he landed in a nest of expired needles. He should consider himself lucky. The jagged remains of that old branch glare back at him, a big gap like a question left unanswered.

Looking to his side, there is the letter — and the limb. He frowns. There’s still some green left at it’s core, and the red note defiantly isn’t even torn.

The note reads: I am enamored. Scintillating sparks on the surface of my skin trickle the path of your fingers like lambent dust caught in concentrated sunlight, like earth bound stars curling on your breath. It’s silent and ethereal, the mark of your fingers lingering where they stole my warmth greedily, still there, invisible and unquenched. Do you know I am left famished even when you are pitiless? My living-ember love, you are as inhospitable as the vampirous summer sun, bleeding the ground dry, scorching all tenderness that could wriggle out of reach of your blistering indignation— I hold my withered affection close and brace for the lick of your ire… You mistake my inaction for apathy but I think if I let you, you would scorch it all to cinders, just to prove how intensely your acrimony burns, just so I would know how uncompromising your ego has become for my dignity. I think of how you threaten to discard everything we have been to each other and I want to meet your ferocity with the cold-blooded recompense that everyone tells me is due… But, how can I do that when I look into your eyes and I see someone that once saw me when no one else would? How can I when I’ve known your heart —and it is not empty? How can I kill a fledgling hope I know is still within you, the trust that I would never leave you even if life made you thorny and bleak? How can I do it when the most untamed parts of you are home to all the untamed parts of me? How can I do that when it wouldn’t matter how unsparingly you loathed me, some part of me would still love you? I cannot reason with feral rage, there is no antivenom for enmity, but my heart cannot yield to the truth; that I want you to choose to love me back. Even in spite of all you’ve done to desecrate our bond… How pathetically I want you to look at me in the way others would long to be seen, how miserably I want you to speak to me from the places that sighed so softly when you rested your head next to mine, how cravenly I want you to love me in the way my heart would understand. Oh, savage love, how little fear your sanguine threats inspire when I am already consumed with a dread with which nothing else can contend… I do not fear the pain you could inflict anymore. I am not afraid of degradation or debasement. I am not even afraid of death. But, I am terrified that we will not live long enough to finish all those unloved sketches you’ve left in the drawer, or that I might die having not written all that longs to be read by your eyes and dies waiting for a home in your heart —I’m terrified that I won’t live long enough for all that is still within me to be born.

B presses his thumbs into the envelope, caressing the frayed edge left behind when he ripped it free from the nail. He pictures the other four notes hidden away in his room; secret treasures B keeps pressed between the pages of a thick, unassuming book. They are in perfect condition, Backup made certain of that, but this one…is damaged.

The symbolism is not lost on him.

This note is different.

While the others were marked by their playful lust, pretty fantasies signed off with hearts…this one is pointedly somber. Intimate beyond the physical. The author knows the subject of these letters, or at least claims to…in a way that B has never been known, cannot ever be known.

What the hell is this…? This isn’t about him.

Talk of hope and trust and home and seeing their heart — if someone said these things to his face, he’s not sure he could stop himself from laughing. It wouldn’t just be presumptuous, but ridiculous, borderline delusional…

But B isn’t laughing. There is a growing knot in the center of his chest.

He wants this ridiculous letter to be about him.

It’s been fun so, of course he does…but it’s something more than that. There is a bitter familiarity in the author’s tone of voice that cuts through B’s impulse to write them off.

There is not just nebulous talk of ‘love’ but resentment, strife, and death. No, B would be lying if he said that nothing in this note could apply to him, but still…

——— Obelus Yoriko Umbral A ———

Yoriko, perhaps, would be willing to project such far-fetched hopes onto him…but she has the least to complain about out of all the suspects. This is simply because B senses she has the self-respect to stop tolerating him if he pushes her too far — he can’t have that, not when things are just now getting good.

Umbral might yearn for B to be more affectionate with him outside of his rewards for good performance…but he takes what he is given, and this note is almost defiant in what it’s asking for.

Was B wrong to eliminate Obelus just because he’s sure he’d never write about wearing a dress? Doesn’t he know better after studying B like a bug under a microscope for all these years? Isn’t that why he keeps his mouth shut even though his romantic feelings for B are so painfully obvious?

And why does he even keep A on this mental list?

A despises him.

Yet, he doesn’t want to eliminate the possibility from his mind.

Because he likes the idea.

It’s impossible, and that’s what makes the thought amusing. A would have to be truly out of his mind to write like this about B.

No one is crueler to Alternative than Backup.

And why wouldn't he be?

If it weren't for Backup's persistent reminders that their precious figurehead is indeed fallible, their drooling peers and instructors would inflate A's ego to the point of no return. B can just picture his look of smug superiority, that air of stern self-importance that makes B want to turn him inside out. The humiliation, the torment, the cruelty is all necessary. Left unchecked, A might grow a spine and pursue relationships with others, grow foolish enough to believe in something other than his inexorable defeat at Backup's hands.

But he does more for Alternative than just make him miserable. Their rivalry is give-and-take.

B knows the truth, even if no one else does — that for all his faux innocence and doe-eyed victimhood, the degradation gets A off.

But he won't ever admit it. A’s image is perhaps the most important thing in the world to him, and he takes great pains to convince everyone that he gets nothing out of their twisted dynamic.

One of his many lies.

No, there is just no motive for A to author these notes (god forbid with any shred of sincerity). If he had, this would be nothing short of a mixed fucking message.

It is absurd, the idea that A secretly yearns for him to drop all pretense and seriously treat him like his fucking boyfriend, right?

There is barely a moment of consideration before the answer emerges from his memory.

"They think too highly of me to suffer delusions of your adequacy~

Do you think you’d even know how to be my boyfriend if you tried?"

That is what Abel said to him, before B promptly trapped him in the bathroom and made him miss their next class.

When he said it, he meant it. When B retaliated, he meant it. After everything A has done to him, he should be grateful for B’s restraint up till now.

Even after everything he’s put him through, even after … after 'everything you’ve done to desecrate our bond’…

B scowls. Right.

A had only ever categorically denied 'everything we’ve ever been to each other’, his capacity for shame being perhaps one of the starkest differences between him and B.

In spite of the impossibility that this trepid confession could represent Abel’s genuine feelings, the notion crashes into B like water on hot stones and his agitation splinters into a disorienting fog.

Every day he and A address each other with taunts and insults, overt threats and whispered coquetry, the fistfights and arguments a theater they put on for the house while they commit attempted murder and carnal sins in private.

The one thing they do not do is speak to each other like this.

It’s against the rules.

It would be an easy enough pill to swallow if A wrote these letters to get inside B’s head, to escalate the cruelty of their game.

But, if he is this good at it, then B has so severely underestimated his abilities that he’s become unrecognizable as an opponent.

It was improbable, even if A was capable of it. These notes were not merely diversions conceived in an hour's time. Their author wrote with palpably poignant ardor, with carefully constructed allusions penned in ink. Their methodical strokes were elegant but bold enough to be written without the possibility of erasure, suggesting that every step of their creation was arduously intentional, practiced.

No… it wouldn’t be worth the farce of simply luring him into A’s crosshairs...

But, if this could be felt for Backup by anyone, if A could feel anything like this, anything to this degree, if he could even conceive of the thought and mean it — B’s train of thought comes to a grinding, screeching halt.

He doesn’t even notice his racing heartbeat, the tension crawling up his shoulders and back, teeth digging into tongue.

Why would he ever say he’d never leave me?

Of course, he won’t.

Not ever.

It’s not up to A and it never was; it is fate that he won’t survive long enough to have a life outside of this place, outside of B’s reach — but he can’t possibly know that.

B would never leave something so important up to trust.

The absolute futility of it all has not left Backup complacent.

He respects Alternative far too much to accept victory by default.

A spends each day running, trying to put as much distance between them as he can; but he can’t do it forever. He will tire. He will fall.

B chases him and blocks the exits even if he doesn’t have to, he keeps a hand on his back ready to drag him down-

Down to his level.

Dirt, graves, and hell.

They grew beside one another like trees, blocking each other’s sun, tangling their roots. B looks all the more warped standing next to A, but the rot is in both of them.

The rot defines them.

Why can’t he just let it define them?

Why can’t he stop wanting more than to rot and strangle and suffocate him until its done?

How can I do that when it wouldn’t matter how unsparingly you loathed me,

some part of me would still love you?

Backup grits his teeth, his throat filling up with something utterly intangible yet almost too thick to breathe around, he is suddenly too hot and the chittering insects are too loud. The world around him slows to an absolute crawl and when B decides he is not doing this, he is not going to waste his time thinking about this when A did not write this, A would never think this, A would never make these promises, A did not love him,

He stuffs the letter back into its envelope and tries to shake it from his mind.

But he cannot bring himself to leave it. For some agonizing reason, he cannot leave it to be bleached by the sun and consumed by insects eating through the yew’s fallen leaves.

…Why does it even matter to him?

A would have thrown it away.

A would have left it to be forgotten. If he had given it to A, he would have torn it up in front of him—

"… They say that boys often go their entire lives without receiving flowers until their funerals, I suppose now that cannot be said of either of us…"

The words spoken when A gave the flower back to him returned, it still lacked all the malice he had expected to be there. A had not disposed of it, he had not torn it apart, that’s not what happened…

The contradiction, the flaw in A’s thick veneer of antagonism, the possibility pounding at the inside of his skull, something boiling deep inside of him and threatening to burst. He wants to reject this discomfort, he wants to be excited again like he was when he thought something fun was finally happening that didn’t involve his persistent

fucking

obsession.

A dangerous idea reoccurs to him after sitting in the back of his mind for days. It consumes his every fiber, reverberates on every cell like the cicadas in the forest at dusk and he sees the opportunity in front of him with new eyes— the only way he’d get any answers is if he played the game.

If he wrote a response to these letters, but left it for A to find…

Could it affect him? Would it reach through Alternative’s facade? —Would he see a flicker of A’s desire to be truly known…even loved?

… Is A capable of wanting more than the mask of perfection? … Is he capable of wanting — tenderness?

Enough to accept it, even from someone else…?

A voice brushes his mind with unwanted advice, “Maybe—if I was just a little bit kinder to him than you’re capable of being, he might want it more than he wants to be fucked ~” C’s provocation reemerges to taunt him, and as quickly as it breaches the surface, B buries the creeping sense that he could have a point… but not before it introduces him to a new prospect:

He might receive a response from the parts of A that never spoke to him aloud —the parts that wouldn’t throw away the flower left on his nightstand…

B’s guard against ill-fated fantasy rises immediately, he wouldn’t put it past A to be vicious just to spite him.

But what if he didn’t know who they were from? What if he left them for A to make of what he would, for them to twist and pluck at his inner workings, to keep him awake at night— to let him deny ownership of if it all proved fruitless~

If nothing came of it, he could at least enjoy toying with A until his experimentation with tenderness honed him into a more skillful handler of his admirer’s sensitive heart…if this was truly his admirer.

Backup tucks the note away carefully, determined to return to his room and begin drafting his reply, but he feels a pull to the fallen limb discarded on the ground.

The yew is dead.

Nothing can be done about that.

But this limb isn’t…at least, not entirely.

B picks it up, and for a moment, contemplates its weight in his hands.

It’s easy enough to discard a flower. But if something could grow from this branch…if the progeny of that old tree could sprout from its discarded bones, and A saw such a gesture of sentimentality from B…would it rattle him?

This yew is not just the grave of B’s childhood after all, but A’s, too.

Fine.

If C wants to lecture him about playing nice, he can make himself useful.

He will bring it to the greenhouse to see what can be done.

[Lavender Note]

[Pink Note]

[Blue Note]

[Red Note]

[Tag: Love Note]

#submission #rp #plot #love note #beyond birthday #thank you anon for your beautiful submission!!!

[eaaaazygurl]

Of Horses and Men

Synopsis - Weeks have passed since Bodecia's passing. Arthur Morgan, now mountless, has been borrowing the gang's horses from Taima to your own ever since. Having just escaped the perils of Colter's chill and making anew at Horseshoe Overlook, you can't help but remember the beautiful white mare you had crossed whilst out on the hunt up in the mountains. Perhaps the perfect mount for the perfect Outlaw.

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Wordcount - 8900+ (Long read, seeing as I'm good at overdoing it ^^')

Pointers - Newly established relationship, a whole load of fluff, swearing, a little bit of pain here and there (nobody said horses were easy to tame!)

Notes - Probably one of my more tame and calmer readings, and one I thoroughly enjoyed writing up! I wrote this over a number of days just out of bordem so u apologise if it's a little sloppy.

Some perilous weeks had passed since Colter; the snow and chilling winds were something you'd rather forget now that the Van Der Linde gang had settled at their new homestead, Horseshoe Overlook.

The cliff ledge from which Dutch had placed his boot upon and claimed as his own was a gorgeous little stretch of land, overhanging the beautiful forested section of the Dakota River, its promise of plentiful fish well known by the constant splashing of Blue Gill, making an easy meal of the insects that skimmed the river surface during warm golden evenings. A thicket of fir trees obscured the camp from curious eyes and ongoers that rode too close and beyond that was the vast Heartlands - a beautiful stretch of lush grassland that went on further than the eye could see, rich with various game such as Whitetail Deer and Pronghorn, as well as the occasional Buffalo herd.

You sat idle on the outskirts of camp at the overhang, fiddling around with your hunting blade, allowing the gentle breeze to caress the soft fuzz of your rosy pink cheeks, your bright eyes meeting the snowy peaks of the mountain ranges in the far distance. You took in a settled breath, bending over slightly to investigate the treeline below.

As you peered over the ledge of the cliffside curiously, legs swaying lazily over the edge, you felt a sudden catch of cold wind furrow your face and neck, managing to wriggle its way down your shirt like a frozen snake.

Such a breeze gave you an awful memory, your spine tingling...

It was a hauntingly accurate reminder of recent events; the torment of Arambino's unforgiving landscapes within such a seemingly stunning state.

Lucky for you that you had been in a shirt and pants to shield your frostbitten skin from most of the cold, and not a loose dress or skirt, unlike the other women in camp.

Whilst you still dawned a more feminine look to your fabrics that you chose to sport, you much preferred to be clothed in skin-tight pants over the usual skirt or dress that a women of your age was expected to dress in. Your attire comprised a black button-up shirt, light grey pants, white suspenders, a loaded oak brown gunbelt that seemingly never went short on bullets, thick riding boots for long taxing horse rides and a pleasant black gamblers hat. It was unique given the time period, but you felt comfortable and nobody but Micah Bell seemed to care.

Another gust of wind threatened to have you shiver so violently you might have toppled over the edge, so you pulled yourself away for safe keeping, sheathing your knife back into it's holster upon your gunbelt and settled back into your recently constructed tent.

It was quaint, just enough room for your bedroll and a chest for your belongings alongside a small bedside table where you stashed your most prized and precious mementos.

You let out a grunt as you flopped onto the bedroll, your back hitting the fabric with a soft thud. Then your head fell to the side, meeting the bedside table beside you where a collection of photos you'd collected over the years were nailed tight to the oak surface. Your eyes grazed across one such picture that you had pinned onto the side of the wood; you were seated on top of a handsome stallion, beside you stood another equine, a little larger than your own with darker features and white flecks.

You could tell by the way the greys toned out darker on that particular horse over your own. Sat, mounted on top of that horse beside you was none other than Arthur Morgan himself. He was significantly younger, perhaps in his early twenties, as was yourself. You both dawned the brightest of smiles, hands bound in leather reins.

Your mind skipped back to that day so long ago: the day you broke your own horses in the vast countryside of the Wild West, opposed to buying or borrowing mounts.

A gentle sigh escaped your jaw as you rest your eyes upon Arthur's mare, sadness clouding your expression.

"Oh, Boadecia..."

It had only been a few weeks but the memories were still awfully fresh. Boadecia had been Arthur's first true mount, a beautiful Silver Dapple Pinto female. She was most certainly a fine horse, one that could outmatch any of her opponents in speed and strength. She had even taken out a charging Cougar with one fatal kick after it had decided to try and make a meal out of Arthur. That horse was as loyal as the sun was to moon for the big burly Outlaw, and her passing had been a tragic loss for him. Arthur hadn't chosen another mount since, and it had been weeks. Perhaps even a month or so. It was as if choosing a new mount terrified him, or perhaps he didn't want to feel as though he was replacing Boadecia.

Arthur had been going between the members horses since her passing, though he much preferred to ask you and Charles on borrowing your mount Sundance or Taima, Charles' mare, over others such as Old Bill or Silver Dollar.

Today had been no different.

Slowly pulling your gaze away from the photo you decided to sit up and begin rolling the tips of your fingers into the burning muscles upon your legs to relax your aching calfs, still sore and complaining after a hard days work. You were just about to kick your riding boots off when the sound of thundering hooves caught your attention. You pulled yourself to the edge of your tent curtains, eyes scanning the clearing to where the horses were hitched.

Appearing through the treeline was a flash of light gold, bright white hair draped from the equine's neck and it's oak-brown leather reins stiffened and strained slightly signalling for it to come to a hault. You didn't have to look twice, you could recognise that animal from anywhere: Sundance your stallion had returned, and with him, Arthur Morgan.

You watched curiously as Arthur dismounted, throwing the leather strap over the hitching post before taking great care of cooing your horse praises and offering him a healthy looking carrot.

You most certainly admired Arthur's way with the horses. He may be a notoriously terrifying man, one that could quite simply bring you to an early grave just by pressing you with a single finger, but his gentle nature towards animals of all kinds was something you appreciated - one of the many reasons you had fallen for him and took him as your partner.

Your relationship though still very young had been brewing between the two of you for many years. You had grown up together, faced a plethora of different life threatening circumstances and had always pulled through. You understood one another in such a way that no one else could and had a connection with eachother that was almost telepathic. Whatever one of you was planning, the other knew. If you were in danger, Arthur would know something was off, vice versa. You were, together, an unstoppable force of nature and not to be reckoned with so help anyone who attempted to stand in your way.

"Mr Morgan." You gave Arthur a welcoming smile as he came trotting towards your tent, careful not to have anyone catch onto his return so that he wouldn't be pulled away from a chance to spend some quality time with you.

"Miss Y/l/n," Arthur returned your greeting, gently ushering himself inside to take a seat beside you, Arthur kicked back the tent curtain and settled onto your bedroll, grimacing at the texture of the solid floor below, halfly muttering to himself, "I ought to ask Miss Grimshaw if she can get you your own cot. Better yet get her to move you in with me."

By the flush of his face and somewhat gentle panting you could tell he'd been busy. Even the faint specks of dirt and dust on his cheeks told you that he had most likely gotten himself into a scuffle.

You rolled your eyes, amused and curiously questioned Arthur, "So, how was your ride home?"

"Went alright, I suppose." Arthur's response was tiresome as he beckoned you to shuffle against him, though you shook your head and placed a hand against his face to pull him onto your own shoulder - it was he who was tired, not you, and your gesture to offer him a resting place upon you pulled a smile from his lips in gratitude.

"Just 'alright'? You sure? Cause the muck on your face ain't convincing me, Arthur Morgan." You emphasised with a smirk, knowing that the use of his entire name would tell him he was in for a scolding if he didn't come clean now.

Sighing heavily in defeat, Arthur finally replied, shifting against your shoulder awkwardly: "Oh-kay fine... Some O'driscoll fella tried pissin' me off."

"And by the looks of things..."

"They managed." Arthur responded quickly, subconsciously placing a hand against his right cheek to massage the reminence of an ache away.

You simply clicked your tongue, a brow raised as you began to slowly card open fingers through the Outlaw's soft dirty blonde hair, "Well, I can't argue. He was an O'driscoll, to hell with it! The man deserved a good smack."

"Beatin' more like." Arthur replied with a small chuckle, relaxing into you as you continued to brush through his hair.

Your eyes met a few discarded creamy hairs attached to the collar of Arthur's shirt, gently picking at them and flicking them onto the floor, "How'd Sundance treat ya?"

"Treated me well. He knows how to give a good buck." You could hear the amused pride in Arthur's voice.

"To the arse?"

"Yep. Had the O'driscoll running for the hills till the adrenaline wore off. Pretty sure he broke their pelvis or somethin'." Arthur smirked, briefly remembering how he had dismounted Sundance to land a few hearty beatings to the O'driscolls nose before the stallion had paced over in a frantic whinny, his hind legs raising to then give a strong buck outwards, back hooves connecting with the O'driscolls rear earning a loud crack at the point of connection. He had sent the man almost five foot into the air, dragging out an amused laughter from Arthur who watched on as the O'driscoll managed a couple of feet before collapsing - writhing in a ball of agony before passing out.

"He's quite the horse." Arthur managed to force out through a yawn as he shuffled to get comfier against you. You quietly hummed in agreement, letting your head fall against Arthur's. As your head twisted to the side, your eyes caught sight of the image of Boadecia again. You frowned, gently whispering, "As was Boadecia."

Arthur froze for a second. You felt the tense of his muscles against your neck and body. You wondered if you'd accidently hit a nerve from the way Arthur remained deathly silent, panic began to bubble within the deepest pit of your stomach and your fingers began to curl.

"She was a darlin'." He finally responded, taking your small hands into his own, a thumb gently caressing the soft skin on the back of one of your appendages. He knew you too well, "Y'know you don't have to feel like y'can't talk about her. Can tell you were worryin' cause you fidget."

"I just don't wanna upset ya is all." You brought your hand from Arthur's and tenderly caressed his cheek, your thumb brushing over the thin line of stubble, "She was a stunning horse, you haven't even put a thought on getting another mount yet."

Your side suddenly felt cold when Arthur sat up, removing himself from your embrace to turn and face you head on. He gazed down at you sadly, closing the distance between you both as your head pressed against his own, eyes closed as you breathed his aura in, the tip of his nose gently tapping yours.

"Only time you'll upset me darlin' is if you get hurt and I wasn't there to protect ya." He placed a gentle feather-soft kiss against your half open lips, "Guess I haven't found the right horse yet."

With another light loving kiss from yourself this time, you brought Arthur further down to rest upon your bedroll. The both of you settled, bringing yourselves impossibly close, legs coiling around eachothers like a tangled of ivy or a pit of snakes. Once you got yourself comfortable, you pecked the crown of Arthur's hair, sighing into it, "Well, we'll see about that. I think I might have a few things in mind."

Some days had passed since your conversation with Arthur. He had gone out on many trips upon your mount since then, leaving you to tend to duties around camp or take the wagon into Valentine for a quick trip of pickpocketing.

You had allowed it, afterall.

Arthur had asked for your permission the other night. He would have never taken your mount if he knew you staying around camp would drive you mad, but instead it was a nice break from Dutch's incessant hounding about needing money or creating more outlandish plans.

It was another fresh morning upon Horseshoe Overlook. Dew drops scattered the grass shoots that danced around your feet, tiny glistening rainbows that sparkled as the light caught them. A thin blanket of mist tickled the back of your throat as you took in a deep breath, pushing your way towards the edge of the Overlook and away from the warmth of the coffee pot you mulled over previously that dawn.

You passed John who had been sat back upon a wooden chair, his feet kicked up upon the table in front of him with his own coffee in hand. You gave the man a little hand gesture in greeting as you went past, only to hear Miss Grimshaw bark an insult at the man for having his feet on the table. Something along the lines of, "Would ya shit where ya eat, Marston? No? Then get your god damn feet off the god damn table!" Earning a rather high pitched squeal from John once the sound of a flinging shoe wafted through the air. You turned to see John scampering off, Grimshaw in hot pursuit with her heel in hand. You let out a snort of amusement, shaking your head.

You passed Charles next, who had already started on the daily routine of cutting wood. He gave you a soft smile and wave as you passed on by, greeting him with a "Mornin' Charles."

As you advanced to near the edge of the overlook you recognised the head of Hosea perched neatly on top of a smooth rock that acted as a pleasant little seat, overlooking the forest below.

The devious old con-man was flicking through the ledger that the gang used for keeping track of payments and contributions.

Your shadow had loomed over him some time ago before you had even come to his side, drawing a soft "Good morning," from his tired lips.

"Hosea," you now paused beside him, your eyes scanning the woodland below the Overlook, "How's things?"

"So, so. The usual, if it were. I'm stiff as a log and as bored as a caged animal." There was a hint of amusement in Hozier's tone as he turned to face you, smiling softly, "I suppose being stuck here has driven you to the border of insanity?"

You shook your head at that comment, giggling as you took a seat next to Hozier like a child would to their father, "Nah, it's been nice not to listen to Dutch bark up the same tree all day and night. Besides, I know how much Arthur needs his time away, he and Sundance get along well."

"That's very nice of you, y/n. You and Arthur are certainly made for eachother." Hozier shot you a pleased smile, covering his mouth afterwards to heave out a few hearty coughs, beating his chest with a clenched fist. You wanted to offer him help, but you knew as well as anyone that help wouldn't do Hozier any good. You knew that whatever disease had cursed his lungs was terminal - no going back. All you could do was offer verbal support, to which Hozier would always brush off. He much preferred others to ignore those coughs he often hacked - and so you did.

Hozier, after clearing his throat with a quiet apology, turned his attention to you fully, "Though... the poor boy does need to get himself a new mount sooner or later."

Hozier was right. The gang moved frequently and it was only a matter of time until Horseshoe Overlook would become a thing of the past, despite how much you enjoyed the view and atmosphere here.

You needed Sundance back soon, Dutch would be getting restless not putting you back to work, and Arthur needed his own horse. Hiding away from the absence of Boadecia wouldn't be doing the Outlaw much good.

"Say... do you remember back at Colter when you, Javier and Charles went huntin' round lake Isabella?" Hozier broke you from your thoughts.

You hummed in question, squinting slightly as you drew your mind back to that trip. It was in the midst of the storm, the gang needed fresh food fast. Arthur was back at camp - or rather what little resembled a camp - tending to other business while you snuck out with Javier and Charles to catch a bite to eat, despite Dutch's orders to not brace the storm. You had all made it to lake Isabella, a beautifully remote section of the mountains that was plentiful with game of all species; Mountain goats, Whitetail Deer and Elk. You had all managed to take down a relatively large mountain goat, enough for the entire gang to feast on for a day or two.

Hozier breifly broke your train of thought, "If I recall, I remember you askin' if I've ever known horses to live wild in such conditions. Always struck me as odd, given the fact that you never really told me what you saw on that trip."

Returning your mind to your memories, you remembered how you made haste back to camp, the image of a white silhouette amidst the blizzard resembling that of a horse burning into your memory. Quite a small one, probably around the same size as Dutch's stallion, The Count. You couldn't be too sure though. It was freezing, you were hungry and Charles was ushering you back to Colter before you got a chance to investigate, fearing that leaving you behind in the storm would prevoke a very worried and angry Arthur Morgan. You questioned Hozier on the possibility of 'mountain horses' as soon as you found your way into one of the cabins to warm your frozen bones. When Hozier had understandably shot you a confused glance and politely asked if you were well in the head, you'd taken off, embarrassed, without an explanation.

"Yeah... I'm sorry about that." You gave Hozier an apologetic grin as he brought you back round to present day with a polite chuckle, fiddling with the end of his chin in thought, "Well I did some investigating in Valentine the other day. Was talk of a nature photographer spending the morning at the Saloon for breakfast."

One of the ledger pages flipped to reveal a long list of needed items. Food, medicine and ammunition. Hozier continued on with his story, "Thought I might as well ask the fella if he's ever seen horses in the mountains surroundin' the Grizzlies. If he's a nature photographer then why would he want to pass the chance to capture the image of an urban legend?"

"Urban legend?" You quietly repeated, your arms folding as you furrowed your brow in question, "I thought you didn't believe me back there in Colter?"

Hozier bowed his head in response, "Admittedly at the time I thought the cold and hunger got to your head, but in the back of my mind I knew you wouldn't make a fool of yourself. So, I went and asked the locals on my first trip to town." Another page was flipped. "There's been talk of a certain white horse living in those mountains, was always a myth though among these here parts of New Hanover."

Interest peaked as you leaned in closer, brows knitting together with curiosity, "What sort of myth?"

Hozier simply shrugged, though a small smirk seemed to form against the corner of his mouth as he spoke, "Folk down in Valentine seem to think there's this mysterious horse that lives in the mountains for whatever reason. Some say it's a ghost, others say it's the long lost horse of some weary travellers that didn't make it past the lake." Dry fingers flicked the page of the ledger across, dreary eyes scanning the contributions made over the last week. To no surprise, you noticed Arthur's name had filled most of the week's page with various donations of money, pocket watches and a few discarded wedding bands. Hozier continued, tracing his finger across the page, "I wouldn't know myself. You are the one that saw the supposed beast, and if other folk think there's such a thing then perhaps you weren't wrong." He shuffled uncomfortably on the hard surface of the rock, readjusting his position. "Besides, that photographer I found - I forget the name... Ah! Albert I believe, says he is certain he saw the creature himself, though one image alone would never suffice."

Now you were genuinely excited and awfully curious. Perhaps you did see a horse up at Lake Isabella, and better yet, a horse strong enough to survive in such conditions that even the gang could hardly withstand. A mount like that would certainly peak Arthur's interests.

"I suppose it would make a good trip for Arthur and you, and we aren't far from the mountains down here." Hozier flicked his hand in the direction of the mountain peaks, despite still having an eye on the coffee brown ledger pages, "Arthur needs a new mount. He can't keep stealin' Sundance. That won't help him pass the grief of losin' Boadecia." Repeating himself from earlier to emphasise the need for Arthur to take on a new mount, Hozier cleared his throat, "You can head off as soon as I convince Dutch and Susan to let you go."

"And you really think Miss Grimshaw will let us go as well as Dutch letting Arthur loose for a few days?" There was an amusement to your tone as you rocked your weight from one leg to the other, arms pointed outward with gloved hands gripping your hips. Hozier simply closed the ledger, turned his attention to you and smiled, "I can make it happen, dear girl."

"Well, I wish you luck on talking to Susan about that," your reply was seething with doubt, yet playful, pulling a rather loud chuckle from the old man who you saw as a fatherly figure.

Whilst Dutch was the formidable leader of the gang, Hozier was the man people would often go to for support - you included.

With a heavy slap to the knee, Hozier stood and sighed: "You and me both my dear... you and me both." He was cradling the ledger between his chest and armpit and had scooped a thin square object from his top pocket with his spare hand, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You gently took it - a photograph. No doubt the same picture he had spoken of earlier, he must have paid Albert for it. Eyes scanned the image which revealed a very faint outline of a horse. The image itself was mostly white, but the treeline behind said silhouette and the edge of a frozen lake in the bottom right hand corner was all too familiar to you. By the time your jaw parted to celebrate with Hozier he had vanished.

You already knew what you had to do.

Once Arthur had returned from whatever escapade he had been sent on, Hozier had ambushed him before you had even gotten the chance to notice. It hadn't taken much convincing - Arthur was overjoyed to finally get some well deserved time alone with you, though he hadn't been told why exactly.

It had taken half a day to convince Grimshaw to let you and Arthur go. Dutch took half that time with Hozier's careful prodding, but eventually, the two allowed you to leave.

With camping gear equipped for the snowy weather and the two of you laden in thick, warm coats, you were off, and it hadn't taken long for you to finally enter the crystal white landscape.

The weather had calmed, allowing for an easier stride through the thick snow. Once you and Arthur had advanced to Colter, you decided to take the lead.

"I thought Hozier told us to collect whatever it was we left here?" Arthur questioned you curiously as he watched you and Sundance trot right past the old rundown village and onto the trail that lead next to a small stream. He had politely asked Charles to borrow Taima once more, who had happily agreed in exchange for a few days rest. The beautiful spotted horse whinnied in irritation at the cold snap, gaining a gentle brush and carrot from Arthur's hand.

"You really think Susan would've let any of ys leave supplies behind?" Your reply was sarcastic yet amused as you glanced back over your shoulder at the frozen Outlaw. His expression frowned back at you, "So... why exactly are we back here then? You want me to freeze to death? Cause I really disliked bein' in this snow..."

Arthur's complaints pulled a playful tut from your mouth as you spurred Sundance onward, "Just trust me, hun. It'll all be worth it once we find what we're lookin' for."

"Which is?"

"Just be patient and keep your voice down."

Another half an hour of wading through the snow and you had finally reached Lake Isabella. Arthur had commented on the beauty of the landscape before narrowing his ocean eyes towards you, yet again scolding you for going off into a blizzard just to find food.

You'd endured his nagging over the situation three times now, although you understood why. He was worried for you, if you'd been injured or worse, the snow would have certainly buried you - they'd never find your body. Regardless of the fact, you had survived and fed the entire gang that night before escaping the barrens of the mountains. It was all for a good cause.

"We should set up a small camp here. No doubt we'll be searchin' a little while, perhaps into tomorrow." Your eyes scanned the wilderness ahead of you. To your right was the edge of the frozen lake, and your left a thick wall of forest.

As you lept from your mounts side, Arthur followed suit. You felt a large hand grip your shoulder, "Okay, can you please tell me why we're here now?"

Suppose it was now or risk him racing into the path of the mysterious beast only to spook it away.

"We're getting you a horse."

Silence.

Arthur glared at you, dumbfounded. Then, you watched on with a displeased sigh as the man folded in on himself in a bellowing laugh: "A horse?! Here?! Christ Y/n you kill me!"

Unamused at the hysterical Cowboy, you slowly shook your head and leaned back on one leg as he struggled for air, tears forming in the corners of his eyes that stung once the cold snap hit them.

Finally Arthur turned his attention to you and paused.

It was that look he couldn't ignore. One eyebrow slightly teetered upright, piercing judgemental eyes and a completely flat expression upon your straight lips.

"Okay, okay I believe ya! Kinda... jus' stop lookin' at me like that."

Arthur had ceased his laughing fit, slowly catching his breath as he brought himself upright to stare at your blank expression. He shifted uncomfortably, cuffing a boot over the virgin snow in an attempt to settle his mind onto something other than your expression.

Finally you gave in, smiling once more with rosy red cheeks against the frozen wind. Your hand repeated Hozier's action as you flicked out the photograph from your satchel and handed it to Arthur, "Take a look."

Arthur carefully took the square picture from your fingertips and brought it to his face, focusing on the image with squinted eyes. You watched on, smirking a little when Arthur's brows rose and his eyes widened a little in disbelief, "Who took this photograph?"

"Hozier gave it to me, said he met with some wildlife photographer called Albert down at Valentine." You replied quickly, unravelling the tent fabric and poles from it's bind that you had removed from Sundance's saddle.

As you continued on with fixing up a little campsite, Arthur had strode around in an almost-complete circle, his eyes studying the image, "Well, he is one crazy son of a bitch comin' all the way out here for a picture. Next minute you know he'll be photographin' an entire pack of wolves."

You had cleared a patch in the snow and outstretched your bedroll by the time Arthur had finished pacing, glancing up in his direction with an amused snort, "You come tell me if you ever see anything of the sort. Wolves... I could definitely imagine it." With that in mind you shook your head, a soft smile lacing your lips as you finished off with the tent preparations.

Now with a finished camp, you and Arthur sauntered off into the treeline for some fallen branches, placing a little ring of rocks for the base of a small campfire once you both returned. It didn't take long for Arthur to work at the twigs, stoking the embers to crackle into a pleasant warm dance of oranges, yellows and reds whilst you set up hitching posts close by for Sundance and Taima.

The distant sun had now dipped below the peak of the mountain, casting heavy black shadows against the sparkling snowdrifts. Stars were one by one piercing through the violet stratosphere above and a delicate scattering of fluffy pink clouds sailed into the distance, promising a clear night.

Sundance and Taima were grazing at a small stack of fawing hay you had managed to pull from the frozen pile left behind at Colter. It wasn't much, but was certainly enough to quell the equines hunger for the night ahead. Both horses stood close to the fire, allowing the orange glow to warm their sides, tails swishing with content.

You watched from the inside of your small tent as Arthur bent himself close to the fire, his arm outstretched and hand holding onto his silver hunting knife. Attached to the tip was a thick chunk of fresh venison.

The flames of the fire cast a beautiful amber shade upon his face that you couldn't help but study; his sharp jawline peppered with short stubble cast a deep shadow against his neck, the angled bridge of his nose and the strong browline defining his masculine features. His chin dawned two thick scars which you could only imagine were inflicted by a knives edge. Those heavy definitions of his face however brought out the most entrancing thing that had always sent you into a flurry of emotions with each passing gaze. His eyes. Ocean blue with a hint of aqua, teal, lime and bronze. In one instance those irises were lit with the fires of absolute fury, sharp and terrifying. Whilst on other occasions, they were soft and inviting, perhaps even sad. You found yourself lost in them almost daily.

"Here," without having realised, Arthur held out the now cooked chunk of meat in your direction. You were far too lost, focusing on his face that you failed to notice him waving the venison in front of you.

"Oh- sorry. Just got lost in my own head," innocently smiling you gently took the handle of Arthur's knife, only to realise that he was smirking back at you, "What?"

"Oh nothin'. Jus' you, starin' at me. Sure you was lost in your own head or lost on my face?" Arthur rose his brow and thrust himself forward to almost touch you with his nose. That left you squirming on the spot, attempting to argue back but to no avail; your voice was sparse and simply silent. So, you snapped your jaw shut and curled yourself into your legs, muffling an awkward: "Shush."

Arthur chuckled at the sight of you all embarrassed and coiled up like a snake hiding from an soaring Hawk overhead, amused that he had already won and planted a messy kiss upon your forehead, the only section of your face he could get to. He kissed you again and again until you pulled your face from cover with a deep blush and a flustered giggle, only to be cut off when Arthur pressed his lips against your own.

"Easy Mr Morgan, don't wanna give yourself chapped lips cause of the cold," You mused as your back hit the soft surface of your bedroll, Arthur caging you underneath him. He let out a snort of contempt at the idea, shrugging, "Worth the risk."

"Not when you're complaining over it!"

"If I complain then you get to shut me up." Arthur challenged you as he began to plant little nips and kisses across your jawline and down the dip of your neck, gleeful in listening to your tiny squeals of delight, "That tickles!"

"So?" The Outlaw chided as he continued on, now pinning your arms down to stop you from pushing him off. He purposefully began to drag his stubble across your neck, knowing full well that it was an unbearably ticklish spot of yours. Your quiet complaining soon erupted into sharp laughter, squirming underneath the cowboy's grasp. You weren't a match for Arthur's strength, and every wriggle to escape him was proven futile. Though, despite the torture of his tickling, you couldn't help but blush and enjoy the mischievous look on Arthur's face as he finally pulled back to allow you some air.

"I love you," You wheezed joyfully as Arthur placed a warm kiss upon the tip of your nose, "I love you too, sweetheart."

With that excitement out of the way, Arthur flopped onto his back, discarded his clothes until his union suit remained and wriggled himself into your side. You had undressed into your chemise, slipping into the bedroll whilst also layering a number of pelts and coats on top for extra warmth, letting your clothes thaw next to the fire. Arthur slipped between the blankets, nestling his head into the crook of your neck.

Your previous playfight had brought back pleasant memories, sighing outward with a smile you reminisced to Arthur, "Hey, you remember when Hozier came up with that brilliant idea to lock us in that shabby old hotel room up at Blackwater?"

A low chuckle vibrated against your neck and Arthur pulled his head up to meet your gaze, "Oh yes, how could I forget? Was better than any of Dutch's plans cause it actually worked."

"Don't let him hear you say that," you teased, gently brushing away a lock of hair from his blue spheres, "Dutch will have your guts for garters."

Arthur shrugged, pulling the blanket of the bedroll tighter around the both of you so that your body was flush to his, "We must've been in that room for what, half a day?"

Your brow bent downwards as you brought your mind back to the time. It had been during the early days of the gangs arrival at Blackwater. You and Arthur had been tasked with scoping out the town, and Hozier had really emphasised checking out the hotel. "Yeah I'd say so. Was a brilliant idea on Hozier's part, bringing us together like that. Said we wasn't leaving till one of us 'spoke your truth'," you brought your voice a little lower, attempting to imitate a slightly thicker accent so that you sounded a little like Hozier, playfully prodding Arthur's bare chest that was exposed from the unbuttoned midsection of his Union suit. The Cowboy grunted, the corner of his mouth hooked upward, dragging his calloused thumb across your jawline, "Had to be me makin' all the effort of speakin' my feelings first huh?"

"Yeah but I still kissed you first." You snapped back with a playful pout.

Arthur's head teetered to the side, "Don't count, I admitted how I felt first."

"Why you-" you were quickly silenced by Arthur's soft kiss, your lips dancing in unison before he eventually pulled back, hovering over your face with a proud grin, "Remember Hozier's face when he opened to door on us? We were practically naked at that point."

You couldn't help but snort out an amused laugh, thinking back to how Hozier had unlocked the door counting on seeing the both of you cuddled up together. It had been so much more than just a cuddle. You and Arthur had been harboring those feelings of longing and love for years, so it only made sense for a simple admittance of love and shy kiss to escalate into something much more intimate. Hozier, the poor soul, had walked in on you both. Although you hadn't yet done anything, the both of you were still half naked with just your panties and Arthur's shirt still gripping onto your skin.

"I honestly thought we'd given Hozier a heart attack..." You muttered quietly, brushing a hand across your face in an attempt to wash away the post-embarrassment. Arthur nuzzled your hand away and placed a gentle peck against your cheek, "Ah well, he was still proud of achieving something. Worked wonders, 'least it was obvious."

"Then the ferry job happened..." that had awkwardly slipped from your mouth, earning a rather sorrowful gaze from Arthur.

You had been together a week before that, and you had returned to camp after a long hunting trip to find out that a particular ferry job had gone horribly wrong. Nobody knew who had died, who had made it, who had been captured or injured... and you weren't aware that Arthur hadn't been on that job.

You remembered high-tailing it from camp and into the streets of Blackwater, eyes wide and frantic. The law had already swarmed the streets and were starting to become suspicious of you. One man had even pulled you from Sundance and placed the barrel of their Navy Revolver against your head, demanding the location of 'Dutch Van Der Linde', only to be shot in the head himself by a furious Arthur Morgan.

You'd fled Blackwater and West Elizabeth mere hours after Dutch had returned to camp. Pinkerton's were hunting down his tracks like wolves to a fresh blood trail, and you all had no other choice but to flee into the mountains where the law and the agents wouldn't dare to follow you.

Mack had been shot and vanished just after escaping the ferry, Davey had been in an awful way, too. Poor Jenny, a good friend of yours, had died on your pursuit to the mountains and Sean was nowhere to be seen.

"We're alive though, darlin'. I'm alive. Got nothin' to worry about, okay?" Arthur buried himself against you once more, ushering you onto your side so he could wrap his legs around you. His warmth enveloped you, drawing out a relaxed sigh and small smile, "Okay Arthur. I love you."

"I love you too, darlin'. Always."

"Got any other stories about the Wild West then?" You questioned with a purr, drawing a low rumble from your partner as he thought back to those brilliant golden years.

You weren't entirely sure how long you had spent tangled in Arthur's arms, your head resting upon his chest as you listened to him remanice over the 'good old days' further west. You'd clearly fallen asleep, now waking, disturbed by a slither of silver light peaking it's way through the crack of the tent curtain. Once you had shifted to sit upright, Arthur too had stirred and cracked a single eye open only just: "I would say good mornin', but it's freezin' and I'm miserable."

Giving off a soft chuckle you planted a gentle kiss upon Arthur's frozen nose, "Well hopefully that horse is out here and the weather doesn't change. Then we can be off by nightfall, maybe earlier."

Slipping outside of the tent and into the open air of Lake Isabella, you scanned the clearing ahead of you. To your left was a long row of dense fir trees, and to your right the mostly frozen lake. Ahead stretched out a snowy pathway that bowed upward to create a hill.

"So we're lookin' for a bright white horse in a bright white mountain. Should be fun..." Arthur had crept up beside you, his thick blue jacket wrapped rightly around his broad body. In his hand was a piping hot mug of coffee, taking in the warm steam that wavered from it's contents.

"At least you ain't here with Micah," you took your own cup, giving Arthur a huff. The thought of the two men out here together in search of a myth was frankly an amusing one. It certainly wouldn't end well - Micah would most likely burn some other poor soul's house down.

Once the both of you finished off your morning coffees, you decided to set off up the path that rimmed the lake, leaving the horses at their hitching posts as to not make too much of a disturbance. Arthur had mentioned something about a 'legendary buffalo' that had been mapped out around your general location whilst you kept your eyes on the snow-covered floor. Your hand whipped out, halting Arthur just before the hill sloped downward, "There's tracks here. Horse tracks, look. The hooves aren't cleft like a Deer, Elk or Buffalo."

Arthur knelt down and drew in a long winded breath, caressing the side of his jaw curiously, "Yes, they're horse tracks alright. Could have just been someone else's horse though to come do a spot of huntin'?"

You paused, throwing Arthur a rather displeased pout, "Mr Doubtful today aren't you?"

"What? Just bein' realistic." Arthur grunted as you pushed past, slipping over the mound to get a good look ahead of you. The lake rounded off just ahead where the forest opened up into a small valley. Just before you could take a step down however, you felt hands grip into the bunched fabric of your coat and air begin to whip past you as you were roughly dragged backwards. You landed heavily against Arthur's bent knee, parting your jaw to complain but Arthur got to you first, wrapping his hand around your mouth cooing a quiet "Shhhh."

You were confused, a little irritated at the sudden yank, but you knew Arthur wouldn't have done such a thing if it wasn't necessary.

Arthur peered over the edge and back down at you, his crystal eyes glinting with a sudden rush of excitement, "You were right!" His voice was merely a whisper, but you could hear the thrill within his thick drawl, "There's a bright white mare at the edge of the lake where the water hasn't frozen over. Think she's an Arabian, like The Count."

"Told ya," Arthur released you as you spoke, smug written across your face. He then gave you a quick peck to the back of the hand in a silent apology before taking a deep breath, shaking out his arms and stood, "Wait here. We don't know how stubborn she's gon' be. If Boadecia is anything to go by..." his voice trailed off to be replaced with silent focus and determination.

You did as you were told, standing back, eyes fixated on the back of the Outlaw as he slowly approached the Arabian, gently cooing calming words in her direction.

The mare's ears twisted sideways and she quickly threw her head up from the lake, sprinkling rainbow droplets from her muzzle. She huffed, agitated, her left hoof digging furiously into the fresh snow below.

She was going to be a difficult one, you could tell. Boadecia was a strong willed horse, she'd bucked Arthur off a handful of times before finally breaking. But Boadecia had been fenced in and Dutch and Hozier had been there to watch on. This white mare was not fenced in nor did you have the help from two aged Outlaws. But, you did have experience on your hands. Arthur moreso.

You watched on, bringing your fingers against your lips, nervously chewing at the tips as Arthur drew closer. The mare's breath was becoming heavier and much more frantic by the second, plumes of foggy breath retreating from her buzzing nostrils. Her ears were pinned slightly backwards, telling you both that her patience was wearing thin.

"Easy now... easy..." Arthur was a mere few feet away now. He froze. The mare froze also. Both were about to bolt. Arthur drew in a deep breath and leaped, scrambling up the side of the equine and began a fierce battle of staying upright upon the create.

The Arabian let out a hearty battle cry, her head flinging harshly in each direction, strong back legs bucking wildly.

You stood, your breath caught in your throat as Arthur was swung from side to side. He pleaded for the mare to relax but she just wouldn't give in. She came closer and closer until she had almost trampled you, earning a rather shocked squeal as you fell backwards. For a brief second you could see the panic in Arthur's eyes and temptation to veer off of her side to check up on you, but you insisted he keep on her back, "I'm fine! Just keep at it!"

The animal thrashed as best she could, but eventually you could see her tiring. Her bucks were becoming less frequent and her head flicks became lame and slow, her nose huffed and fluttered until she eventually came to a hault, head hung and hoof scraping against the ground in defeat.

"There we go, that's it, easy... not so bad is it?" Arthur almost slumped against the white equine, chest heaving as he gripped onto the mare's neck, "Good girl."

"You did it!" You were at their side, slipping against the small snowdrift with excited eyes and a large, proud smile, "And what did I tell ya? Where's my apology kiss Mr Morgan?"

Arthur shook his head with a smirk, replying with a quaint, "Hey, I never once doubted you. I doubted everyone else, okay?" To which your response was to tut, offer your hand with a beckon and as soon as Arthur bent down to kiss it, you stole it with your lips. Arthur blinked, dumbfounded and blushing as you strode off towards the camp, "You're forgiven."

The ride back had been an easy-going one. You and Arthur had both expected his new mount to begin acting up, but to your surprise she had been extremely obedient and forgiving.

You lead Taima behind you, allowing Arthur to ride ahead so that he could take control of his new mount rather than have her follow you.

You were now making your way towards the Dakota River, passing Cattail Pond and in the process stopping to allow your horses to drink.

It was mid-afternoon by this point, having set off at first light. The weather was forgiving; a delightful warmth that hit your skin pleasantly without threatening to boil you inside your coats.

Once satisfied that your mounts were hydrated, you continued onward to Valentine.

"How's she treatin' ya?" You encouraged Sundance to trot beside the white horse, significantly smaller than your golden Missouri Fox Trotter stallion.

Arthur had to gaze up at you this time, a little taken back by the difference but found it humorous nonetheless, "Better than I expected, honestly."

"You thought of a name yet?" Curiosity dug into your flesh like a Hawk to a Rabbit, eyeing the beautiful creature with a bright smile.

Arthur gave you a shrug, "I have a few in mind."

Your eyes beckoned Arthur onwards, who pursed his lips together with a sigh, "You really wanna know, don'chu?"

"Well of course!" Excitement welled in your stomach. You leant forward, almost falling from Sundance's saddle - pausing when you caught sight of a faint frown plastered on Arthur's face, "Hey... what's bothering you?"

Arthur shot you a quick glance, sniffing and dragging his sleeve across his face, "Doesn't matter."

"Arthur... you can talk to me, you know that. Come on... I won't tattle. Promise."

"Y'aint gonna find it silly?" Arthur prodded, to which you gave him a sappy smile, rolling your eyes and sighed, "I don't even know what you're gonna say yet but... no. I won't judge."

Arthur slowly nod his head, chewing nervously at his bottom inner lip. Finally raising his head, he let the words fall out of his mouth like a waterfall, "I don't wanna replace Boadecia. She was a fine horse... loyal as could be, never once bucked me after breakin' her, never once nipped me."

You listened on, elbows pressing into your thighs and chin resting against the creamy coloured mane of your mount.

"What if this girl ain't right for me? What if she's not like Boadecia?"

"She ain't Boadecia, Arthur. You don't wanna replace her, and you aren't." You beckoned your hand out to the white mare who coincidentally huffed as you did so, "This horse here is completely different, so there's no threat of feelin' like you're replacing her. It's a new journey, a new horse... Boadecia will always be in your heart."

Arthur watched you intently, eyes wide and brows bent upwards ever so slightly, his lips barely parted. He then cleared his throat, letting himself relax into a pleasant smile, holding his hand out for yours. Once you placed your palm against his, he leaned over and upright, planting a gentle kiss against your knuckles, "Thank you sweetheart. I needed to hear that."

"Think of her as Boadecia's final gift to you." You chuckled softly as Arthur kissed your soft skin, to which the man snapped his fingers with an 'Ahah!' Dragging a confused glare from yourself.

Arthur offered the mare a gentle scratch and brush, holding out a fat orange carrot under her nose as he shot you a celebratory grin, "Pandora!"

You blinked, amused and dumbfounded, "I'm sorry- what?"

"That's what I'll call her. Pandora. Means gift in Greek or whatever... I dunno, ask Dutch. He loves his books. I jus' remember it from him cause it's a strange word." Arthur settled back into the saddle, spurring Pandora onward into a faster canter now that you were both nearing Valentine, the stables a dot in the distance.

You followed on behind, checking your back to see how Taima was doing; just fine it seemed. Then, you gazed out ahead of you, watching as Arthur comfortably relaxed into the trot, one hand sagging down beside his waist. A gentle sigh escaped your lungs as you admired the man ahead of you, "Pandora sounds just fine."

Once you had both had the Stablemen give the horses a check over as well as a pampering, you made your way back towards Horseshoe Overlook. It was nearing the evening, golden rays washing over the treeline and breaking into a warm amber glow over the camp.

Arthur steadied Pandora, giving the mare a dozen praises and kisses before raising his voice with pride, giving you a clever wink in the process.

"Hozier! Come take a look at this beauty!"

*Mini Extra!*

John and Bill rounded the corner of the treeline to see Arthur, yourself and Hozier fawning over the new snow-coloured mare.

"Who's this?" John questioned curiously, taking a long, hard look up and down at Pandora, her flank fluttering and hooves tapping at the ground tentatively. Arthur brushed a hand gently down the velvety skin of Pandora's muzzle, "This here's Pandora. She's my new horse."

"A bit small for you ain't she, Morgan?" Bill teased, keeping back to give his own mount, Brown Jack, a large kiss against the beast's nose. Brown Jack was evidently much larger than Pandora, who was also overshadowed by John's horse, Old Boy.

Arthur's eyes squinted, narrowing across both John and Bill before he stood back on one knee, rose his chin and smirked, "Hey, I can guarantee all of you that Pandora here could most certainly beat your horses in a race."

Bill and John shot eachother a look before returning that challenging glare at Arthur, Bill snapping back an excited, "Prove it then, Morgan."

It hadn't taken long for the three of the men to saddle up and charge off through the treeline.

You gave Hozier a heavy sigh, eyes rolling as you watched the tired joy on Hozier's face brighten as he smiled, shaking his head, "What it is to be youthful, eh?"

"Aye you're not so old yourself," You gave Hozier a teasing smirk, to which you earnt yourself a playful nudge on the shoulder, Hozier placing a hand against it and gazing off into the treeline after the boys.

"It's evenings like these I'll miss dearly."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader

[e-wills-afterhours]

Natural

A/N: Hiccup and Astrid take a break from the Midsummer festivities to "commune with nature."

Rating: M...M+...M+++? It's very NSFW, is what I'm saying.

-------

The forests of Berk were temples of superstition; the flora breathed, and the musty earth listened. Every tree had eyes and the streams winding down from the mountains babbled over stones. Children on the island grew up hearing stories of trolls and spirits: dangers and disasters that awaited foolish adventurers deep within the woods. The gods played there, and mortal men was not welcome but to hunt and gather medicines after beseeching the divine for their mercies. One was never to stray far, out of earshot of the village, lest they never return.

That was the age-old warning: the forest was not to be explored, nor violated by curiosity or boredom. But dragons were hostile once, which no one had accounted for when myths were born.

Hiccup never feared the woods, much to his father’s dismay. As a child, he found respite therein, among the shade and birds’ songs, far from the scrutiny of his people. Perhaps he had been foolish, or lucky at best; but the trees had cared nothing for his shortcomings.

Over the years, the island hadn’t changed. The forests were still lush and green in the summers, overgrown with moss and ferns beneath a canopy of tightly woven leaves. The mists rolling down from the mountains still shrouded the woods, adding to their mystery. Hiccup was no less thankful for their taciturn nature at twenty, as the trees closely guarded the secrets they witnessed—like a rendezvous between young lovers while the village of Berk was preoccupied with Midsummer.

With the revels and the alcohol serving as a suitable distraction, no one missed two independent dragon riders who slipped away from the crowds. For all anyone knew, they were off charting the edge of the world to see just how large Jörmungandr had grown. But they had not the island, retreating into the thick mist and wooded hills. Their dragons played by the stream, catching the fish that taunted them by darting in and out of the flashes of sunlight on the rippling surface.

Astrid struck first, grasping Hiccup’s tunic, pulling him in for a kiss as wild as the forest. On her lips, he tasted beer, lust, and the earthiness that enveloped just about everything on Berk. He could smell the soil and the pine, and the scented oils she used in her hair. Their tongues were as busy as their hands: and each bare swath of skin was bathed in patchwork sunlight and caressed by the summer breeze. The leaves rustled above them, as soft and relaxed as the breath that passed between their lips.

“When you asked me to go flying with you, I should’ve known what you really meant,” Astrid said, smiling into his neck. Her lips tickled just below his jaw, and Hiccup suspected she liked the stubble there.

He untucked her tunic from her skirt, slipping a hand beneath. He charted each rib until he palmed her breasts through her bindings. “Oh, I think you knew.”

Her blue eyes flashed deviously above a coy little smirk.

They were unhurried. No one would come looking, no one would bother them. Only careless dragons and songbirds bore witness to the half-naked bodies wrapped in a tight embrace. They would be difficult to spot through the dense foliage and thick treeline surrounding the glade.

Hiccup whispered things that gave Astrid goosebumps despite the warm afternoon air. She shivered in his hands, pressing into him as he detailed the ways he wished to enjoy her. he gave promises of long, skilled fingers and an eager mouth. Her pleasure was his, after all. He enjoyed tasting her, mouth full of her most intimate folds and crevices. To feel his lover losing herself in his ministrations was its own reward. He still felt the rush of desire when she touched him, kissed him, or looked at him like she needed him too. She could not be tamed, after all; fierce and lovely and dangerous, she was his respite now.

They were tangled up on the ground in to time at all, inextricably entwined as the knotted roots of an old tree. Clothes continued to shed like dying leaves, with Astrid’s hands free to wander and knead the over the muscles of Hiccup’s back tempered from years in the smithy. She explored him with the same self-assuredness with which she braved Berk’s forests. The rocks and wooded hills were as familiar to her as the slope of Hiccup’s bare shoulders, strong and freckled. She feared nothing, not wilderness nor beast; she conquered everything, and Hiccup had so easily succumbed.

He kissed her breasts, tasting every inch of her skin as if thirsted for it. She sighed beneath him, her chest swelling and falling to capture his full attention. His teeth grazed a nipple, enough to make her whimper, before he worshipped it with his tongue. She writhed closer, her naked hips twisting in his hands. The first touch of heat and a thicket of curls on his thigh was enough to make his hardened cock throb with anticipation. Fantasy and memory blended together until he could just about feel himself buried inside her already.

“I’ve got something better,” he murmured, halting her lazy grinding against his leg.

His fingertips stroked delicate folds, and she grasped him by the nape of his neck. Her other hand dug into the damp mossy soil beneath them, grounding herself by whatever network of roots run deep. Hiccup would’ve never guessed once that his talents and dexterity extended to such intimate pursuits; but Astrid loved his hands—craved them actually, if the way she pushed down on his knuckles was any indication. Skilled fingering stirred easy pleasure, and Hiccup was well-practiced and thoroughly learned in the art. He now took to it like a bird to flight—or more accurately, a wolf to the hunt. The passion he elicited from his lover was like a heady scent on the wind, whetting his own sexual appetites until they were all but irresistible.

“Hiccup,” she moaned; and his name rolled off her tongue so sweetly, like summer berries that grew in the thick underbrush.

His fingers continued to tease, sliding in and out of her tight sex with sensual rhythm. He could reach hidden depths, probing tender mysteries that wanton thrusting alone could not. Such expert touches brought Astrid off the ground, back arched up like a green branch of a sapling. The heel of his hand rubbed against her clit with gentle but relentless pressure. His middle and index fingers were buried in her, moving and stroking. Perspiration gathered along her brow, below her kransen, and along her upper lip. She glistened from the humidity and the flush of her skin, completely unrelated to the season.

He was her summer sun, setting her ablaze as she came for him. His own cock throbbed pointedly as she cried out, whimpering his name, squirming on the grass. He wanted to feel her all around him, but his patience would be rewarded. Her body convulsed with ecstasy, and she was seldom more beautiful.

He slid down her body, blessing her curves and hipbones with reverent lips. He stopped only when he was level with that nest of dark curls, now dripping wet from his busy fingers.

Astrid covered her eyes with folded arms, whispering an anticipatory, “Oh, my gods, babe…”

But she did not protest. Her pale thighs fell open in delightful invitation.

Hiccup wasted no time, kissing her slick, most delicate flesh, tracing over those folds with his tongue. She tasted exquisite; smelled of her own heady scent, that seeped into his brain and took hold of his senses. Her body was a powerful intoxicant, and he drank her in like the clear waters of a mountain stream. He was buried deep, nose brushing her clit and making her thighs tremble. She gasped and called his name, clawing and the dirt and raking up the short grass.

Bringing Astrid to orgasm was always a thrill. When Hiccup had discovered he could do so more than once in a row, it became a personal goal that time, and every time since.

Her breaths grew short and ragged. She squirmed without purpose, hands grasping at him haphazardly. Somewhere in her unintelligible moaning, his name flitted about fragmented, coming together only when she reached the edge of pleasure.

“Ahh—haaa! AH! HICCUP!” she cried, his named echoing into the wild before dissipating among the trees, forever muted by the thick woods.

She shamelessly pushed his head into her, seeking more sensation from his face; and he moaned from the raw desire it spurred in him.

No one could hear them. Astrid’s ecstatic screams alarmed only the birds as she carried on in otherworldly bliss. The forest had a reputation for straddling the realms of men and the supernatural; and she was there. Her body convulsed with pleasure, throwing her into some other plane out among the stars for which she was named. Hiccup could feel the goosebumps as he caressed her strong thighs. He lapped at her sex through every wave; long, slow drags of his tongue that made her shudder.

“Stop,” she pleaded, tapping his shoulder. “It’s too much. I can’t…”

Hiccup grinned and withdrew from her just far enough to meet her eyes. He held himself over her, propped up on his hands. Astrid panted with a tint to her cheeks to match the nearby wildflowers stippled on the lush greenery. He could feel the relish of her climax on his face, cooled by the breeze—and he didn’t care; he’d wear her on him all day if it wouldn’t cause a scandal.

He met her lips in a hot, open-mouthed kissed. Her moaned and wrapped herself around him, her limbs like vines; he was caught in her grasp, and he didn’t fight it as she rolled him onto his back. He grimaced a little at the sensation of cool, damp moss and dirt on his skin. But it was quickly forgotten with the weight of Astrid straddling his narrow hips, his rigid cock pressing into her inner thigh.

She looked wild, hair tousled with blades grass and bit of dirt stuck in her braid.

The forest looked good on her.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rocking against his straining cock in one unfair, but entirely welcome move.

“Of course. You know I want you.

She smiled. "Always."

He would never protest to watching her ride him; to watching her roll her hips and sway atop him. As she lowered herself onto his cock eagerly, and with unwavering confidence, higher thought vanished from his mind with the quickness of a skittish hare. Logistically, it eased the burden and discomfort some of their more creative positions put on his left leg, but more to the point: he was mesmerized by the way her body moved.

The undulation of her lower half paired with the overwhelming sensation of her sex squeezing and stroking his own was enough to hold him captivated; to rip desperate noises from his throat and focus all his energy into the liquid heat pooling where their bodies joined. Furthermore, it was breathtaking to watch her lost in the pleasure he gave her.

Even in the throes of lust and need, they shared tender smiles and affectionate glances as tangible as her hand splayed across his sweaty chest.

“So good,” she murmured.

Hiccup only hummed in agreement, unable to speak and barely able to open his eyes for the glimpse of her euphoria plain on her face and reflected in the grinding of her hips. Senses heightened. Everything was brighter, more vivid. The sun was all but blinding, filtering through the green canopy above and glinting off her golden hair. 

He was adrift in the stifling heat of the summer and Astrid’s body gripping him; twisting and turning around him; glancing across part of his cock hypersensitive and desperate for attention. Wetness was important, consuming his thoughts and sitting heaving in his chest, and coiling below his navel. Discomfort and tightness gathered in his nethers, robbing him of breath and draining his intellect. Everything, everything seemed to throb and pulse with urgency.

Blunt nails would leave crescent indents in the soft flesh of Astrid’s hips—but Hiccup’s hands were like vices, urging her on and maintaining that dizzying rhythm. He caught flashes of awareness: his name uttered breathlessly, her hand clutching at her own hair, her full and parted lips, and the distracting bounce to her perfect breasts. All of these things settled in his loins, snapping the coil and plunging him into a white-hot starburst. Astrid's echoing cry seemed distant this time, mingling with a growl that was vaguely recognizable as his own.

They were motion: frantic release and involuntary spasms. One orgasm was indistinguishable from one another, rippling back and forth across their skin, through their muscles, and in their bones; they were one in the same. Desire and pleasure, and deep satisfaction.

Hiccup spent every last bit of his seed into Astrid, and she continued to ride him, milking his cock until he feared he might die. His nerves were too raw, and her warm folds rubbed over his vulnerable flesh far too intensely. One benefit to the holiday calendar was that it made keeping track of cycles easy: the movement of the stars as well as the shifting of Astrid’s hormones. The solstice brought not only frivolity, but also peace of mind that their wild indiscretions would not bear fruit.

And there was nothing more natural in the world than the earth and the breeze, and the sweat and the sex. In the forest, time was of little relevance apart from the changing of the seasons. Hiccup had some indication of the minutes they had burned there, but a romp in the woods would be lost in the greater timeline of the Midsummer festival.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, patting his lover's ass until she moved.

Astrid dismounted him with a soft laugh, collapsing beside him on the ground—which felt surprisingly cool and pleasant against their heated skins.

“That was incredible,” she purred, stretched out and basking in the pieces of sunlight interspersed with abundant shade.

“It always is,” he replied. He breathed deeply, sweeping his damp bangs from his eyes.

She rolled onto her side and kissed his forehead, tracing his jawline with tender fingertips.

“I love you, Hiccup.”

“I love you, too. Until I die—which make come sooner than expected if we keep this up.”

Astrid lightly swatted his shoulder. “It was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you can’t resist me.”

“Mm, you are the most attractive fish bone,” she conceded. 

“See? Irresistible.”

Astrid curled into him, head on his chest. Their dragons bounded through the underbrush, snapping twigs and creating a ruckus that disturbed the otherwise serene glade. Hiccup had spent many hours of his youth exploring Berk’s forests, curious what lay hidden in the trees; but he couldn’t recall much of those excursions now. The forest had come to signify something else: freedom and secrecy—a place he and Astrid could all but call their own, to come and go to as they pleased, doing whatever they pleased. They had not run into vengeful forest spirits or gods yet—or at least, none who dared tangled with their dragons.

“Should we get back?” Astrid asked, but she held onto him tightly.

The soothing warmth of skin on skin was too hard to give up. The relaxing melody of the birds in the trees was preferable to the drunken cacophony of Berk’s holidays. Fresh air and gentle wind held more appeal the aroma of beer and body odor and that stagnant heat of a packed mead hall.

“In a little while,” Hiccup replied, closing his eyes.

They had no reason to rush, he decided. The celebration would continue into the night. Besides, he quite liked the forest.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #hiccup x astrid #smut fic #Editing this is what I did instead of going to sleep at a reasonable time #no regrets