#tw // mentions of forest fic

[gjordis]

Reread the fucking forest fic in honor of Tyler reposting a forest fic meme today and oh boy !

I think there is some weird charm to these mid 2010s fics that ship actual real people. Especially now that they can be read 100% ironically because they’re just prime meme material in their respective fandoms.

#tw // mentions of forest fic #does it have to be said that I don’t actually ship real people #and don’t support that idea either #but it’s like reading to kill a mocking bird right. historical significance or whatever #the rain. it’s like. crisper #what tags can I put so I can tag this as forest fic meming without actually tagging it #rambling to myself

[frogchiro]

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #hybrid au #werewolf!könig #red riding hood au #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader

[ozzgin]

I love your shapeshifter fic so much, especially the part about living along with one hell of an abomination (affectionately). I wanna ask has the shapeshifter ever slipped up in front of reader? Accidentally does something that a dog wouldn't be capable of ? or is he dedicated to his role and makes sure to only drop the act around guests?

Tw: mentions of dead bodies

That’s a very good question and I’m asking myself the same thing currently, as I’m planning to sit down and work on part 2 today. 😭Do I prepare a grand reveal, or just continue with this ridiculous back and forth?

I feel like there’s a certain comedic charm to the whole cluelessness of it. There might’ve been plenty of slip ups, Reader is just oblivious to everything.

“Someone’s been digging in the yard!” They’ll scold playfully, waving their index at the dog-like abomination.

Unbeknownst to Reader, there are several cadavers clumsily scattered mere inches below the soil: the one-night stands who never stayed the morning after. The creature wags its tail without a care.

“Wow, you sure are popular with birds. I guess it’s all that time spent in the forest”, Reader will remark thoughtfully, gazing at the committee of vultures circling them each time they go out.

The creature responds with an eerie sound, tongue rolled out in enthusiasm.

“For a second, I thought you said, ‘It’s the stench of death and eternal torment’, hehe. I should take a break from my horror podcasts.”

Or Reader entering the living room with a confused frown, holding a crumpled book in their hand.

"Did you find this outside?", they ask, glancing again at the title: The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. "Someone scribbled 'one must imagine humans happy' on almost every page. How did you even manage to stuff it under my pillow?"

The creature tilts its head and stares in silence.

"You're a silly one", Reader exclaims in amusement.

#yandere #yandere shapeshifter #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #monster x reader #monster x human

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #yandere x female reader #yandere male x reader #oc yandere #warrior yandere #breeding tw #tw sa #fem!reader #soldier yandere

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love. #astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

[thelov3lybookworm]

Hi! Omg I loved reading your Rhys x reader secret pregnancy fic! May I please request a Lucien x reader where he’s been cursed to stay in the form of an actual fox and the then reader comes along to break his curse? Thank you!!

Cursed

Summary: The mother liked being cruel to Lucien. First she had him lose his eye, and now his body.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: mention of being a child of forced intimate relation, other than that, I'm not sure there is more, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: my love, my heart, my baby anon. come here so i can sing you to sleep and cuddle with you because holyyyy shit i love this idea aaaahhhhh. (i am ready to be your tumblr wifey)

also, the beginning is basically our Y/n trauma/info dumping

anyways, enjoy!

(I had fun talking to you about this @artists-ally)

•○🌑○•

A twig snapped behind Y/n, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.

After wondering for a moment if she should ignore the animal, she decided to turn to look.

There, next to a mighty tree, crouched the fox. Abnormally large, fluffier than a normal fox, it had been following Y/n around for the better part of the week.

The moment Y/n met the fox's mismatched eyes, it tensed, as if ready to bolt. But then, after a moment, it relaxed, again staring at Y/n curiously.

The problem wasn't the fact that it was a fox. No, there were plenty of foxes in the forest near Y/n's home. But those foxes didn't follow her around or sit outside her door at all hours.

This one did all of that.

She wouldn't have been much bothered if it had been a normal fox following her around. But this one had a weird aura about it, like it was not an ordinary fox.

The fox suddenly moved, slowly prowling towards Y/n. She watched it, its body moving and navigating through the roots and fallen branches graciously, as if it were an elegant lady in the royal court.

Y/n shook her head, turning away and continuing on her journey to the cluster of trees deep into the forest to collect some fruit for herself.

The fox fell in step beside her.

She did her best to ignore the animal, though its unnatural aura kept her glancing at it.

Unfortunately, it also had her distracted, and she almost didn't pull up the hood of her cloak when a mortal man walked into view, carrying a bunch of firewood on his back.

But thank the forgotten gods, the man was too busy grumbling to himself to notice the pointed tips of her ears before she covered them.

Being a half fae was hard when living among mortals.

She could get killed if anyone found out about her heritage, and that was the only real reason she had for living on the outskirts of the small town, right next to where the forest started and away from the mortals.

And honestly, she cursed whoever the bastard was that had raped her mother and sired her for the inconvenience.

But she couldn't go down that path of thought, because if she did, she would just end up on the same thought that had her staying up at night and bawling her eyes out.

She was lonely.

It had nothing to do with the solitude of her house. No. It was because she was a half fae, and while other girls her age would mingle with other young men or whoever caught their fancy, she could not do so for fear of being killed.

She also had no family, her mother having died when Y/n was still young. Y/n had no siblings or relatives who could have taken her in, and so, she had learned to take care of herself.

She had also early on learned that the world didn't take kindly to people that were even remotely different from their perception of normal.

Especially beings who had a reputation to torture innocent souls for fun.

Y/n could not blame mortals for hating fae, as she herself hated them, though for completely different reasons.

It was not the best experience when you were scorned by the people you were a part of.

Hated by mortals for being a product of human-fae union, and hated by fae for being a half breed.

She sighed, shooing those thoughts away as she reached the cluster of trees she had been on the journey to, and set down her basket for a moment, stretching.

The fox settled down under an apple tree, and simply stared at Y/n as she went about plucking different fruits and berries and piling them in her basket.

Once she was done, she turned to glance at the fox, who sat unnaturally still.

She thought for a moment, then picked out a juicy apple from her basket. "You want one?"

The fox kept staring at her, and Y/n felt silly for trying to communicate with a fox. She huffed, putting the apple back in her basket and beginning to make the journey back to her little cottage.

•○🌑○•

"Do you think it will storm?"

The fox cocked its head, staring up at the sky before making a small noise, which Y/n took as affirmation.

"I think so too."

While a month ago Y/n would have laughed at herself for talking to -trying to talk to- an animal, now it had become normal. The darn fox never left her side nowadays, and Y/n had grown fond of him, letting him into her house and keeping him fed and warm. She had even named him Rusty.

Rusty glanced at Y/n before it settled down, laying his head on her lap, snuggling into the soft and fluffy material of her thick leggings.

A small smile made its way onto Y/n's face, and her hand lifted of its own accord, burying itself into the fur on the top of his head.

Y/n still remembered how she had felt uncomfortable around the fox because of the unnatural aura it gave off, but she had gotten used to it. Now, it was a companion who Y/n simply adored.

A long moment passed, and Y/n was not entirely sure it wasn't hours, but the sky darkened just a fraction.

Y/n glanced up in confusion, because she was sure it had been brighter just a moment before. Suddenly, the warmth in her lap vanished, and Y/n's head snapped down, her brows furrowed.

Rusty was no longer next to Y/n. He was across the clearing, and Y/n could not fathom how he had crossed the vast area so quickly. Her suspicions about him grew, and she realized his body was beginning to shake.

Y/n quickly rolled to her feet, her eyes growing wide when he began spasming, a tortured whine escaping him. She could do nothing but stare as his paws dug into the soft ground, pain filled sounds continuing to rip from him.

The moment Y/n stepped forward, hoping to do something to help Rusty, his head snapped up, a low growl he emitted leaving her frozen in place. And his eyes...

They were glowing.

Unnatural, completely otherworldly brightness radiated from him, his aura becoming ten times different from what it had been.

Y/n watched, her blood chilling, as he continued to struggle until the smell of something burnt reach Y/n.

Everything stilled after that, and Rusty collapsed, breaths heaving out of him.

And, the place where his paws had been, was nothing but burnt remains of the leaves fallen from the trees

Y/n studied the fox until he had gained enough strength to stand again, and his eyes stared back at Y/n.

She swallowed as the fox prowled closer. "You are not a real fox, are you?"

Rusty swung his head from side to side, his eyes boring into Y/n.

She nodded, wondering why she was even surprised. "Are you fae?"

His head dipped.

Y/n dragged her palms down her face, trying not to lose her shit.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

He cocked his head, as if questioning her how he was supposed to answer.

She released a frustrated breath, going through all the reasons why a shapeshifter would follow her around.

She could only find one reasonable reason.

"Have you... have you been cursed?"

The fox dipped his head slowly, and Y/n took a step back, horrified.

"And you are here because you... what? Want me to break you free?"

The fox whined, taking a step forward.

"No." She stepped back again, continuing until her back hit a tree. "Fuck. No. I will not be used and discarded by you too. I will not..."

The sadness in the fox's -Rusty's -eyes nearly brought Y/n to her knees, but the fox simply dipped its head again after a moment, turning and prowling away from the clearing and, in turn, Y/n.

She watched him go, his shoulders curved inwards, looking defeated.

And, despite her instincts telling her to go behind him, she turned away too, walking in the opposite direction, towards her small hut.

•○🌑○•

The windows shook, their sound a little too loud in the small home, and Y/n's fingers curled tighter on the book, the pages crinkling under her fingers.

Thunder cracked somewhere, and Y/n flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. With a sigh, she put her book away, tugging her blanket closer for warmth. She turned to look out the window, where it was completely dark, not one tree visible.

And, despite her attempts at trying to ignore her worries about Rusty, she could not help but wonder where he was.

Was he somewhere in the forest, getting soaked by the rain, shivering?

Was he wandering around hopelessly, hoping someone took pity on him?

Y/n shook her head, telling herself she did not care.

But of course, she did.

Since the moment she had turned away from his retreating form, she had not been able to think about anything but him.

Y/n had never had anyone that particularly cared about her, so having even a damned fox use her for his own gain cut something deep in her heart.

But then a thought occurred to her, and all her feelings of betrayal were forgotten.

What if it is a child?

Or what if it is just like me, never had anyone who cared?

What if he gets incinerated in the storm by lightning?

Oh fuck it.

The second to last thought was what snapped Y/n's restraint, and she grabbed her cloak, lit a lantern, and set off to find her Rusty.

•○🌑○•

The rain made it even harder to see in the night, but Y/n soldiered on, determined to rescue the damsel in distress. Though the damsel was a male and could probably not be in distress.

He could have found a cave to snooze in, and Y/n was setting herself up to be sick for nothing.

Her heart didn't seem to care for that judging by the way it was screeching in her ears.

A flash of light caught Y/n's eyes, and she stilled, lifting her lantern higher, hoping she had finally found the sneaky bastard.

It was just a piece of glass, and Y/n cursed whoever had thrown it here.

After a long time of searching, Y/n spied a gap in the trees, knowing it led to a small cliff. Her instincts told her to follow the trail, and she decided trusting her heart was the better option than trusting her brain.

She had decided to ignore her heart in that clearing, and now she was stuck in a storm.

Lightning brightened the world for a moment, and Y/n lifted her hand to shield herself as she reached the cliff.

Unfortunately, Rusty was not there as well.

Frustrated, Y/n sighed, turning away from the drop.

And then she paused, her eyes landing on a bush.

Under which lay Rusty, shivering and curled in on himself.

Guilt spread through Y/n, and she stepped closer with caution.

His eyes flew open, his teeth bared as he searched around for a predator.

His eyes widened when he realised it was Y/n who stood in front of him now, and he ducked his head, as if ashamed.

Y/n walked forward, and watched as his shoulders curved inwards, trying to make himself small.

She crouched, extending her hands towards him, and he stared at it for a moment, then at Y/n before taking a tentative step closer, gaining more confidence when her hand remained unwavering. He stopped a few with his face a few inches away from her hand, and she reached out to pet his nose.

"Come," she whispered, "let's go home."

He stared at her for a moment longer, and Y/n felt like there were tears in his eyes, but she couldn't be sure because it could very well be rain water.

Navigating the forest to return home was much easier and faster than it had been searching for Rusty, and Y/n was glad about that, as she could think of nothing but changing into warm clothes and getting warmed in front of her fireplace now that she had finally found Rusty. Also, she had to wash Rusty and feed him. It had been long since he had left and Y/n doubted that he had eaten anything.

As soon as Y/n stepped foot inside her home, she shucked off her cloak, setting down her lantern and turning to find that Rusty still hadn't crossed the threshold.

"Come on in, Rusty."

She beckoned to him, and he trotted in, shaking his head to get rid of the water.

"Let's get you into a warm bath first."

Y/n hurried into the bathing room and turned on the faucets, letting the tub fill with warm water. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced back to see Rusty sitting patiently by the door, like a gentleman. Y/n smiled.

"Get in." She told him when the water had filled to the point she knew he liked. "I will go and get changed, and you get yourself cleaned up until then. We can have food after."

At the last part, his head snapped up, his eyes wide. But then he jumped into the tub, and Y/n was left to wonder why he seemed so shocked.

•○🌑○•

Y/n wrapped the tiny towel around Rusty, giggling at how funny he looked before she placed the red coloured bowl in front of Rusty, his favourite.

She stared at him as he began eating, and stared, and stared.

The air changed the moment he took his first bite, growing thicker and heavier with every moment that passed.

Confused, Y/n glanced behind her, and when she turned back to rusty, she let out a small scream.

In the place that Rusty had been occupying, sat a man... naked.

Y/n had never climbed to her feet so quick in her whole life as she did then, covering her eyes. But then she peeked out from between her fingers, seeing him blushing furiously while trying to cover up his private parts with the tiny towel. It was barely enough to cover up his chest, so he had to hold it with both hands like a curtain in front of his hips.

"Who the hell are you?" Y/n screeched.

She noticed now that he had hair like liquid flame, his eyes were mismatched, and he was... fae.

Realisation washed through Y/n.

"You- You're Rusty."

He grimaced. "Yeah, though I am a little concerned with that name. Can we please not use that? Like, Rusty? Really?"

Y/n let her hands fall to her side, settling on her hips. "You bastard, you should be grateful I let you stay and gave you a name. Imagine how weird it would have been in if I called you fox."

"Yeah, I think that would have been better than Rusty."

Y/n scoffed. After a moment, she spoke again, struggling hard to keep her gaze on his. She deserved a fucking medal for it.

"So... what was your curse? And who had so much free time to put one on you?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Don't you think this is kind of inappropriate to talk about while I'm naked?"

Y/n rolled her eyes as she moved past him, walking into her bedroom. "You never had a problem before when you pranced about, wooing all the female foxes."

She was now sure he was grinning when he replied. "Yeah well, they didn't wear any clothes either. If you were to strip..."

Y/n whipped around from where she was rummaging in her closet for something to gape at him. He grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his hands folded against his chest.

That meant-

Y/n turned away from him just as fast as she had turned to him, and no matter how much she denied it, the image of him... it would be forever embedded in her mind.

"Asshole." She mumbled under her breath, her hand landing on a piece of clothing she was unfamiliar with.

It was a pant she had stolen years ago, and later realised it had been too big for her. It would have to do.

Without turning, Y/n threw the pants over her shoulder, and by the lack of sound, knew Rusty had caught it.

It was a few moment before he hummed, letting her know he was done, and Y/n turned, her mouth going dry at all the muscle displayed.

She hadn't had the time to appreciate what she saw before, as she was trying not to make a fool of herself by staring at his privates, but now that he was covered from the waist down, she could not help but stare at what she could see.

"Like what you see?"

Y/n's eyes flashed up, colour staining her cheeks as she huffed.

"Of course not. You are still Rusty for me, and I'd never think of someone called Rusty as anything I like."

He scoffed. "Please, my name is Lucien. I'd appreciate it if you stop referring to me as Rusty."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "No."

He sighed. "Very well, my lady. If that is what you wish for. After all, you broke my curse, I can't really order you around anymore."

"Yes, about that curse. Care to elaborate now that you are appropriate?"

He nodded, a seriousness coming over him. He followed her as she led him back out, settling down in front of the fireplace as she boiled some water for tea.

Once the tea was ready, Y/n passed one cup to Rusty- Lucien- and studied him, watching as he fumbled a little with the cup before he got a good grip on it.

"Let's start from the beginning." She nodded her head for him to continue. "Do you remember the most recent war that happened?"

She nodded. The destruction had been immense, according to what she had heard through rumours, but she lived far enough away from the wall that no harm reached her.

"There was a continent called Hybern. One of my closest friends was pretending to aid Hybern so he could gather intel about the kingdom's and the king's inner workings so he could help Prythian when the inevitable war came. Soldiers from Hybern had stolen the cauldron from its resting place in Prythian, and they knew that it could make anyone young and immortal."

"What is the cauldron?"

Lucien glanced at Y/n with raised brows, but explained to her what the cauldron was, who the mother was, and all the things that probably didn't matter to the story just because she didn't know about them.

A power like that? People would kill for it. Y/n thought.

"My friend's past lover, who had been mated to another high lord, arrived in Hybern, and realised her sisters had been kidnapped. The king ordered the sisters to be put into the cauldron. One of them turned out to be my... mate."

The jealousy that ripped through Y/n was unmatched from anything she had ever felt. And for what? The mention of someone she did not even know? Ridiculous.

"The older one, she apparently took something from the cauldron, in turn making the cauldron take away the youth from the human queen put in after her. The queen was furious, and she allied with a powerful death sorcerer."

"He found out about my... relationship with one of the sisters, and before we killed him, put a curse on me, because I was standing the closest to him. He turned me into a fox, and I could only be turned back if someone who loathed fae gave me shelter and food, even after knowing I was fae."

"Powerful death sorcerer, and all he could think of for his last breath was to turn you into a fox." Y/n muttered under her breath.

A breathy laugh escaped Lucien, which then full on turned into howls of laughter.

"So, what, your mate could not help?"

"She probably could have, given she couldn't bear being near me, but she wouldn't have. Me being a fox gave her freedom to pursue whomever she wished."

Y/n sighed. "Is everyone from the other side of the wall dumb?"

He shook his head, staring into the embers of the fire, though a smile remained on his mouth. Y/n glanced out the window, realising the sun was starting to rise.

"We should probably get some sleep."

Lucien followed her gaze to out the window, and he nodded.

"I will take the couch, you should sleep on your bed."

"Nonsense. You have been invading my space for the past month like your life depends on it. It won't be a big deal if you sleep next to me."

"Sleep next to you, not with you?"

"You know what? You can sleep on the porch."

He laughed, standing and pulling Y/n to her feet.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Thank you."

Y/n blushed, shaking her head.

"I will leave as soon as I can."

Hurt pierced Y/n's heart like a bolt from hell. "Why?"

His brows furrowed. "Why? I have taken enough advantage of you. I don't want to impose."

She shook her head again. "I like when you impose."

He smiled.

"If you say so."

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Lucien Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @mirandasidefics @sidrapotter @hnyclover

#acotar #lucien x reader #acotar fanfic #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #lucien fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #fluff #lucien fic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #lucien #Lucien fanfic #lucien vandaddy #pro lucien

[bipp-bopp-time-to-stop]

Needy, Needy, Needy

This fic was an absolute pain to end. I think I wrote the ending of it in, like, five different ways before actually ending it. Not to mention how this plot was completely different when I first started out. The fic's original name was "Can I have your name?" but try as I might, I could not get the plot I had for that to flow. So, I hope you all enjoy a funky little fairy boy. TW: Yandere themes, manipulation, Hyrule purposefully letting himself get hurt, possessive themes, delusional thoughts, a few suggestive moments (nothing explicit), Hyrule's an absolute stinker

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The light that filtered through the trees dappled the forest scene below in blotches of gold. A spring breeze blows sweetly through the woods and Hyrule feels the wind ruffle up his fluffy hair. He doesn’t bother to fix it because that meant he had to move. And he would sooner die than do that right now.

A hand comes back down to his head and nestles itself into his brown locks. An item, soft and fresh, is placed in his hair before the hand retreats. The hand isn’t gone for long as it returns to his hair again in a few moments to put another item in his hair. Hyrule hums and turns his head to the side to expose more untouched patches of hair. In doing so, he gets to bury his face further into the crease where your thighs and abdomen met. The action elicits a giggle from you and Hyrule believes he’s finally ascended to heaven.

“When I’m done with you, you’re sooner going to be a flower boy than a fairy boy,” Hyrule hears you giggle from above. He snorts in response and cuddles in closer. He takes in a deep breath and relishes odor that greets him. It was overly musky but it was you and that meant it was the smell of home.

“Mmm… I don’t mind,” the brunette sighs out and finally cracks open his eyes to stare at you. And you’re nothing short of beautiful. Golden light framing your hair still messed up from your recently shed helmet. Eyes and lips crinkled into a serene expression. Every part of you just screamed divinity.

Although divine was the word that best suited you, Hyrule also found you to be sweet. Sweet like honey fresh and dripping from the comb. Sweet like the snacks he liked to munch on whenever no one was looking (you almost always caught him, though, and claimed he’d rot out his teeth one day). Sweet like the warm and thick emotion that would pump through his veins and flood his heart when he was held in your arms. Your love poured and flowed through him like hot syrup and it made him giddy and high like nothing else could.

Your hands snaked under Hyrule’s arms and forced him up. He whined and wobbled his lip at you but you refused to give in. The two of you walked over to the still waters of the pond beside where the great fairy resided and you had him look down at his reflection. His hair was filled with all sorts of flowers and even a few sprigs of berries. He blushed at the sight but the wide smile on your face made it clear how happy his new hair accessories made you. To see such joy fill your face made Hyrule a weak, weak man.

But he’s your weak man.

And the ring that hangs from the chain on your neck should make that obvious.

Hyrule wish he wasn’t such a clutz in presenting it to you, though. He had practiced his lines dozens of times, learned your schedule when camp was set up to find the moment in time you were least occupied, and even learned a few poetic flares from Wars. And what did he do when the moment came?

He shoved the ring into your hands while stumbling over his words like a toddler still learning to talk- in front of everyone. Even worse? The ring didn’t even properly fit.

Through some manner of luck, though, you kept the ring. Hung it from your neck and barely removed it from your person. You didn’t act like his fiance, much to his displeasure, but he couldn’t stay mad at you. You just had so much love to give and he knew his brothers deserved it after how cruel fate and the gods have been to them all. Don’t think he’ll be as lenient when he’s with you back in your world, though. Like any lover, he doesn’t appreciate a homewrecker.

“C’mon, you two- we need to get a move on,” Time called out and Hyrule was sorely reminded that the two of you weren’t exactly alone. He grumbles some less than pretty words under his breath and finds his heart breaking as you heed the older man’s words and move away. Hyrule tries to stare down Time where he stands but the blonde brushes him off as if he wasn’t there. To add insult to injury, Time loops his arm with yours and leads you to the front of the group he shouldn’t be allowed to do that he’s not your fiance stop it stop it stop it!

Sensing the sour mood surrounding him, neither Wild or Legend talk to the brunette as the group travels onward. You’re stationed at the front of the group with Time walking ahead of you and with Warriors and Twilight at your sides. As much as Hyrule loved everything about you, he wished you didn’t end up favoring the heavy armor you wore or the mace you wielded especially given it’s hidden meaning and much less hidden claim on you by another man. If you were sooner like Wild and preferred a bow or used magic like he did, you wouldn’t be placed at the front of the group every single time.

He hated these moments. Any moment he was away from your side, any moment your attention wasn’t on him, and especially any moment you weren’t within eyesight. He knew he shouldn’t feel like this but he can’t help it and he doesn’t want to. With the shit he’s been through, he thought he’d never find happiness. Then… he stumbled through a portal and met his brothers. It almost brought tears to his eyes when he realized he wasn’t alone in his pain and that these men understood him and didn’t try to kill him on sight. And then you, Hylia’s apology for what she’s done, came into his life.

You were what convinced Hyrule that happiness was not only possible for him, but also something he deserved. Unlike others who would boast about Hyrule’s achievements until they turned blue and he turned red, you whispered them. You talked to him so sweetly about all he’s done like it’s a humble fairy tale and not a ballad to be sung. Hyrule appreciated that- he appreciates you. You, more than anyone, understand he’s naturally shy and reserved and approach him as such. You don’t force him to boast or seek out glory because you’re happy with just him. And he’s over the moon with you.

You were just the best fiance Hyrule could ever ask for. The sun to his moon, the sword to his shield, and the peanut butter to his grape jelly. You both completed each other and evened each other out into a pitch perfect harmony. While he preferred to be light on his feet and leaned towards his magic, you were all brawn and blunt with your mace in hand and cloaked in steel. Whenever he’d shy away from interacting with strangers or just talking in general, you were quick to speak for him and allow him his space. When he was about to get lost or wander off without realizing it, you were quick to be by his side and steer him back to the correct course.

It’s because of this balance you brought that made Hyrule so… clingy.

Without you, that balance was off. And when the balance is off, Hyrule feels upset and sick. So, no you equals no happiness. And Hyrule could do… drastic things when he was unhappy.

One time, he had purposefully allowed himself to wander too close to a cliff during a fight. He tumbled down the rocky slope along with the chuchu that had attacked him. He received dozens of cuts, bruises, and even acid burns along with a broken ankle and wrist. Because of this horrendous “accident”, it forced the group to stay in a town for a week while he was regularly healed to speed up the recovery process. The scoldings from the others went in one ear and out the other because you were there. You were the one who dressed his wounds, who helped him eat, and even helped to bathe him. You were the one who roomed with him and always ended up in the same bed with him because he was hurting so bad! Please just cuddle with him and rub away his aches and kiss away his pain. Please? Ignore how he’s pressed up against you so closely that the only way he could get closer would be to crawl down your throat.

Another time, he let his jealousy get the better of him. When the group had stopped to set up camp, Hyrule helped get things unpacked. Strangely enough, though, a few things got mixed up and suddenly fingers were pointing at each other as to who did what. You naturally butted in to try and settle the argument and Hyrule patiently waited to the side while you did. When you eventually got fed up with trying to quell the shouting men, you slinked away to take a breather. Hyrule was at your side before you could even sit down. He busied himself in helping you shed your armor and whispered gentle praise to you while he helped massage out the knots in your neck and shoulders. Ignore them for a while, hm? Just stay with him by the creek and let them sort out their business. But… since you’re both already here, why not take a dip? The water’s rather refreshing and it never hurts to clean up. Plus, wouldn’t it be so romantic to wade out into the deeper waters underneath the moonlight with the both of you bare as the day you were born? The two of you were engaged and Hyrule believed that the two of you deserved some needed alone time.

There were countless times Hyrule had gotten up to shenanigans to get your attention back onto him. He had fairy blood in him so such trickery came naturally to him. Not that you needed to know about all of his little games, though. He could only imagine the cold shoulder you would give him and that in and of itself would be his end.

Thankfully enough, it didn’t take the whole day to reach the next town. As everyone settled into the inn, everyone began to go about their usual routine. Warriors and Twilight went off to talk to the nearest stable to get Epona settled in while Legend and Sky went off to purchase needed amenities. Wild weaseled himself into the kitchen to prepare dinner after Time intimidated persuaded the innkeeper into letting them use it. Wind had wandered off to somewhere but Hyrule wasn’t too concerned on keeping track of the boy.

Unusually, though, Time was the one taking stock off the current supplies and not Four. The reason? That damned armor of yours. Protective and sturdy as it was, it wasn’t unbreakable. During the walk to the town, Four had noticed that the right pauldron creaked against the metal plates of your armor in a way they shouldn’t. Thus, he had requested to examine the armor when they arrived in town. Hyrule doesn’t understand how taking off the whole cuirass was necessary for a little touch up, though.

Hyrule was thankful for meeting all of his brothers and getting close to them, but he learned that family can get… complicated. Complicated was easily a good way to explain how Hyrule felt towards the little blacksmith. He was a great guy, good in his craft, and often a welcome voice of reason when things got out of hand. He was the one who kept the armory of the group in tip top shape. He had to thank Four for many things but there was also a point of conflict between the two of them. You.

Hyrule’s not blind. He’s only lived for as long as he has due to his trained eyes and ears. He knows that when that armor was finally finished and gifted to you, it was far more than just armor. Much like the ring that Hyrule had gifted you, it was a symbol of claim. Just thinking about the heart eyes Four would give you whenever you were donning the armor made Hyrule sick. It was also a blow to his self-esteem as, compared to the ring, it was far more practical. It kept you safe and saved your life constantly whereas the ring Hyrule gifted you wasn’t even magical. It was a band of polished silver versus an entire set of steel plate armor, for crying out loud! Talk about an unfair match up.

When Hyrule looked back to you and Four he wanted to rip his hair out. You had been sat down on a chair while Four was on your lap. Based on how the smithy was touching your shoulder and messing with a strip of measuring tape, it seemed like he was just doing his “job” and readjusting your armor. Hyrule knew better, though. Four didn’t need to be on your lap to do this. He didn’t need to be so handsy with your bare skin. Hell, Four didn’t even need to retake your measurements as it seems he does so nearly every other week! Hyrule knows you’re gaining muscle, but not that fast!

The brunette grinds his teeth together and tries not to let his simmering anger show on his face as Four just plops himself down on your lap and gets comfortable. It’s clear that he’s done doing whatever he has to do so he should be getting off and leaving you alone but nooooooo! He’s sitting on your lap, soaking up your attention, even leaning his head against your chest, and his hands are still touching you. Were Hyrule a larger and stronger man Like Twilight, he would’ve just picked up the midget and punted him out the door.

What can Hyrule do? How can he put your attention back on him? Does he cause a scene? Does he have an accident in the kitchen and maybe cut or burn himself? Does he switch out a few belongings in the others bags so they’ll argue with each other when they get back? What can he do?!

“(Name), I’ve been meaning to ask- are you alright?” Time pipes up and Hyrule shifts his darkened eyes over to him. C’mon… don’t add him to the mix! The Old Man is even worse to deal with!

“I’m quite fine. Uhm, why do you ask?” You respond with a puzzled expression.

“You seemed to have gotten a bit heated with those two travelers earlier, that’s all. What was that even about?” Time questions. Ah, that. Hyrule wasn’t there the entire time you had the argument, but he saw you nearly storm away from the two novice adventurers. If he remembered correctly, you had just tried to be helpful and give them advice but it’s clear they took it the wrong way.

“Don’t worry about it- just two beginners unwilling to take some advice. I think we’ve all gone through that bullheaded phase before,” You replied in a dismissive manner. It didn’t bother you, which is good, but you had been bothered and that was not good. Hyrule wouldn’t mind going off to find these two adventurers to give them a piece of his mind, but he had a better idea when he saw Four’s eyes fill with blue and violet.

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into them again, yeah? Even once you left, those two jerks just couldn’t seem to keep their mouths shut! The things I heard them say were entirely uncalled for. From your attitude to your figure to even your armor!” Hyrule growled and crossed his arms as he spun a little lie. He watched Four out of his peripherals and saw the little smithy shaking in place. The color of his eyes were twisting and turning like a nest of agitated snakes. All he had to do now was separate you from Four and Hyrule could whisk you away.

“Hyrule, drop it,” You tutted and the brunette threw his hands up in mock surrender. He let a grin slip when you moved Four off of your lap and got up. You walked off and up the stairs but Hyrule lagged behind. He continued to watch Four and how the Colors within him were clearly arguing. His eyes shifted from wobbly red and verdant green to brash and violent blue. After a few seconds, calm and calculating violet cascaded over his irises before the smithy exited from the inn.

Hyrule couldn’t hold in the pep in his step or stop himself from humming under his breath as he caught up to you. He followed you into your room and closed the door behind the two of you. He leaned against the door and watched as you began to settle in for the night. How your skilled and nimble fingers messed with the clasps of the rest of your armor and removed it. How you began to shed the layer of padding you wore beneath the steel. How your skin shone with a thin sheet of sweat and how the muscles hiding under neath a layer of fat flexed and moved with every little thing you did. Hyrule tried not to pout when you got dressed back up in your nighttime linens.

As you slipped into bed, Hyrule dived between you and the blankets. He ignored your grunts or your complaints as he nuzzled up to your body. He intertwined his legs with yours, nestled his head beneath your chin, and wrapped and arm around your waist and let his hand rest on your thigh. His other hand busied itself with the chain around your neck and toyed with the engagement ring.

“Clingy,” Hyrule heard you huff as you pulled at the apple of his cheek. He only smiled in response and rubbed his face against your shoulder. The soft skin was blemishless and beckoned Hyrule to act. It was like a blank canvas and Hyrule knew of a great design he could paint onto it.

“Mmmmmmmmmm…”

“What?”

“Hmmmmmmmmm…”

“Hyrule, what?”

“Mmmmmmmgonnabiteyou-”

“Wh- OW! HYRULE!”

Hyrule kept his teeth clamped down on your shoulder as tightly as he could even as you tried to pry him away. After a short scuffle, the brunette let go and was nearly pushed off of the bed by you. He merely grinned as you glared down at him and rubbed your shoulder. The skin in and around the bite mark was quickly turning red and it’d hopefully bruise. He didn’t exactly prefer leaving such a crude mark on you as you already wore the ring, but he felt like an extra reminder was needed every once in awhile.

“The hell was that for, you little shit?” You grumble as you continue to massage your shoulder. Although your voice was pointed and sharp, Hyrule didn’t shrink away.

“Hmmm… jus’ felt like it~,” Hyrule giggles and smiles up at you. You roll your eyes and shake your head rather disapprovingly. You scowl at the bite mark and continue to rub it in hopes of soothing the minor ache.

“This better not bruise or else the others are going to get ideas,” You sigh and Hyrule drops his grin. What do you mean by “get ideas”? If they think that the two of you are together then that’s the exact idea that he wants them to have! You are together! You accepted the ring! Don’t tell him he has to force it on your finger…

A knock on the door breaks the moment and Hyrule wants to scream. You adjust your tunic to cover up your shoulder before answering it. An upset Twilight is who greets you and quickly beckons you out of the room. Hyrule barely hears him mention something about Four and he gets some gratification in knowing that his plan worked.

The Colors would undoubtedly be a mess. Blue would likely sooner be mistaken as Red and no doubt Vio would also be drenched as well. Green would at least try to explain their actions while that crybaby Red would be clinging to you and sobbing. As you would whenever someone turned up messy, you’d dismiss them to get cleaned up. And then, you’d storm back to your room and try to calm down.

Hyrule busied himself in getting the room set up while you were away. He pushed the two beds in the room together and fluffed up the pillows and blankets. He changed into his nighttime clothes which was nothing more than a comfortable pair of trousers. Once everything was set up and ready, he waited on hand and knee for you to return. He reeled back his playful attitude and hoped you wouldn’t be too snippy when you came back.

The minutes passed by before the door clicked and creaked open. You slumped over to the pushed together beds and slip under the blankets. Once you were curled up in bed, Hyrule scooched over to you and pulled you towards him. He kept his movements and affections calm, gentle, and slow so you could easily pull away in the case that you were getting overwhelmed. Dealing with your stress was a fickle thing but Hyrule knew how to help you calm down he couldn’t call himself your fiance if he didn’t know how to do even that.

“Four do something stupid?” Hyrule whispers out as he holds you. He places his hands on your shoulder and rubs them. His palms slide down your shoulder blades and back as he massages the tension out of you.

“Mhm…” You sighed out. You didn’t seem to relax as quickly as Hyrule wanted you to. He pulled you flush against him and he coiled his arms around you. He placed a few kisses on the nape of your neck but that gained no reaction from you. Hyrule found himself getting antsy at your lack of response towards his affections. You weren’t reciprocating them or pushing him away. You were just laying there and saying nothing. If there was one thing Hyrule never liked, it was your silence.

“(Name)...” Hyrule whined out in the most pathetic tone he could. Finally, you rolled over and looked at him. He had quickly mustered up crocodile tears and a pouty lip. You mumbled out something Hyrule didn’t quite catch as you pinched the bridge of your nose. When you dropped your hand and opened your eyes again, the turmoil rolling around in your eyes seemed to be quieting down.

“I swear- you are just so needy,” You snort as you ruffle Hyrule’s hair. Hyrule grabs the hand before it can retreat and he brings it to his lips. He places a cheeky kiss against the palm of it which gains him a chuckle from you.

“I am. I am very needy and I’m not afraid to admit it,” Hyrule hums and continues to kiss your hand. You keep trying to pull away but Hyrule keeps chasing it and pressing more and more obnoxious kisses to it.

“Enough!” You giggle out and push away Hyrule.

“I can never have enough of you,” Hyrule claims and places his hand over his heart.

“You sure about that? Even if you had to spend the rest of your life around me?” You challenge and raise a brow. Hyrule returns the smirk you have on your face and loops the chain hanging from your neck around his finger. He rests that beautiful silver ring against his knuckles and brings it up to his lips for a featherlight kiss. His big doe eyes fill with adoration and he speaks his next words with absolute certainty.

“You speak like I could ever get tired of you or that you could ever get rid of me.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere lu #yandere lu x reader #yandere lu hyrule #yandere lu hyrule x reader

[calmcoldevening]

may i request a fic or headcanons (whatever youre up for!) where sometimes jason will take the opportunity to show off his strength to his s/o? like maybe he lifts really heavy things or when he's chopping firewood he'll rip a log in half with his bare hands 😍

Jason Voorhees x reader, his strength headcanons

Tw: soft, comfort, little mention of murder and blood

• All in all, Jason was a big, really big man and no less a big force. But he didn't want him to show it to you, on the contrary, he was always affectionate and gentle, trying to touch you as carefully as possible. He was a caring, kind partner, your personal teddy bear.

• And yet, sometimes he really wanted to show you how strong he is once again. Look, he's so big and strong, you're so small compared to him. You're not going to leave him, are you? He's so strong, he'll protect you!

• Rather, the desire to show your strength is caused by his lack of self-confidence, sometimes you have to prove to him that you really love him. In his life, Jason has only felt love from his mom, so now he clings to your love in every possible way like a touch-starved person. It's sweet, but sad at the same time. That's why he wants you to see him as a support and support.

• Jason loves carrying you in his arms, because this is not only a way to show how much he loves you, but also an opportunity to show all his strength again. Regardless of your weight or shape, it will lift you up like a real feather. You are so light and sweet in his arms, Jason is ready to pick you up in his arms in a wedding style at any opportunity.

• Yes, you often see him chopping wood. You go outside, into the clearing near your cabin, and you notice Jason. He's still wearing his mask, but he's completely naked from the waist up. His trousers hug his strong thighs, and his shirt hangs neatly on a tree branch. The man has an axe in his hands, and you see how your boyfriend's muscles contract and pulsate under his thin skin with each blow. Those big muscles, sexy bulging veins and sweat running down his sculpted body. You're literally salivating at the sight of your handsome man.

• As soon as Jason notices you, he grins slightly under the mask, blushing a little. Putting the axe down on the grass, the man takes hold of both parts of the log with his hands and with one sharp jerk tears it in half. He likes to impress you.

• You've often seen Jason carrying his victims, both living and dead, on his shoulder. And although they were mostly teenagers and young people, their sizes were sometimes quite large. Still, Jason had no trouble carrying them around like some kind of potato sacks.

• He can kill a man even with his bare hands, crushing the victim's skull, but that's not what Jason would want you to see.

• A couple of times you saw how, at the time of the chase, Jason knocked out the doors of other cabins in the forest just with his body.

• Due to the fact that Jason is not very confident in himself, he can be quite jealous. How annoying it is for him when one of his victims tries to steal you or flirts with you. He doesn't stand on ceremony with such victims. He would grab them and squeeze their flesh tightly, breaking their ribs and making them scream in agony. When the victim bleeds out, he will throw the body on the ground and come up to you, hugging you tightly.

• Often he does not notice how he shows his strength. Sometimes Jason doesn't really calculate his strength and squeezes you too tightly in his arms. That's why there are a lot of marks from his hands on your body, and these reddish marks look a little embarrassing.

#slashers x reader #slashers x you #slasher x reader #slashers #slashers fandom #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees x reader

[rierice8]

Last words of an old flame

Thank you for 100 followers guyss!! I was supposed to post a scara fic a long while back but I’ve been pretty busy, but then the next time I opened tumblr I had 100 followers?! So I decided to dedicate this scara fic to that milestone. Thanks a ton guys! And sorry for the long wait, this fic is super angsty too- OOPS! Turns out liquid smooth is not the kind of music I should write smut too…

Word count: 1921

Ftm Scaramouche/wanderer x male reader

TW: heavy mentions of memory loss, angst, degradation, semi public sex (forest), creampie, blowjob

You don't quite know when you’d first felt like this.

Perhaps it was as you saw him for the first time, sitting way up high, far from the busy bustling streets of Sumeru with that dejected look on his face. Or maybe it was as you caught another glimpse of the strange man as you were studying the forest, drenched from the summer heat. It could have been when you first spoke with him, calling him out for seemingly following you. Maybe it was as you spoke the second time, or the third. It could have been as he and you got closer, maybe as you played in the shallow waters of a nearby stream as a way to cool off. Perhaps it was his perfect physique, the way the water made his shirt stick against his torso, his muscles accented by the sleeveless black fabric. His hair dripping against his face and his sly smirk as he forces water your way.

But you don’t think it matters when you started feeling this way. Because it feels good. Too good.

Sitting alone in your room, fingers wrapped around your cock as you grunt and throw your head back to the thought of him. Skilfully going up and down to the rhythm you imagine pounding the man with. Staring at the pictures of him you took with your kamera, precum leaking down your cock. It was like your skin was on fire, though if it was really his touch it would feel all the better. You were completely unravelled all while thinking of him.

Him.

…

Who is he again?

It's been days, or maybe weeks since you’ve seen him. But who was he? You rack your brain yet you can't seem to remember his name, looking through your memory there seem to be blank places, places where his face should be. He meant so much to you, you know that much. He was your world, your light.

What was his name again?

Months go past and you’re sitting, face in your knees, photographs with what seems like blurs of what was a man all across the floor. It was like someone forced him from your memory. You were starting to forget the memories you shared. All that was left was the feeling. It was like sparks lighting against your skin, or that's what you remember it as, at least. A burning desire, a passion, a love for this…figure. This blur. If you didn’t know any better, it felt like someone had forcefully cut out his face from your memory. You miss him so.

Miss him?

Who again?

You walked down the streets of Sumeru city in the summer heat, buying some herbs for your morning tea.

“Thanks again for the windwheel asters, they’re so hard to get here!” You exclaimed. The salesman smiled and said it was nothing as you waved goodbye and set off again. Your next stop was the flower store, which brought you an immediate sense of dread, as it always does. The flowers made you think of something, but you don't know what. It's the same empty patch that kills you every time. You shake your head in an attempt to fix your thoughts.

There.

Your head darted upwards. A man you’d never seen before sat on the roof of some building. You’d never seen before? Yea… never before. His eyes were focused on you. You made direct eye contact with the stranger who sat above you. Who was he?

“Who are you?” You yelled up to the wanderer.

He looked at you cynically before letting out a ‘tsk’ and standing up, preparing to leave.

“No please! Tell me, I swear I must have met you before, something feels wrong about you,” you begged him. He slid down the side of the building before grabbing your arm and dragging your shocked self away from the busy roads. You didn’t question his antics, only following him deeper and deeper into the forests to the sides of the big city. His indigo hair flowing in the wind, his left hand holding his hat down to his head, pale shimmering skin holding your hand tight. He didn’t break a sweat from all the running, so you tried not to either, as not to embarrass yourself. Besides, you were quite well versed in combat, both with and without your vision. Yet running this far and long seems impossible with human stamina.

“Stop please,” you panted. He immediately stopped running and let go of your arm. You stumbled backwards and ended up falling over. He stood above you and cried,

“HOW CAN YOU TELL, HOW DO YOU KNOW!”

You shuffled yourself backwards and away from the angry man. What did you know?

“I don't know…I’m sorry. Who are you even, I feel like I’ve known you but whenever I try to think of you nothing comes up and it makes my blood boil!” You said shakely, eyes wide open. The mystery man took a step back, stumbling slightly as he covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes went glassy. As if realisation has struck him through the heart and it hurt.

“I love you,” he trembled out.

“You don't even know me?”

He knelt down to place himself on top of you, caressing your cheek with his burning palms. Pulling you into a kiss. Like habit you kissed back. He moved his lips against yours and like habit you closed your eyes and sighed into his mouth. He slid his tongue into your mouth and, like habit, you let him. His touch felt oh so familiar, like you’d felt it a million times before. As though the was he touched you was the same as the past. Like he was the missing piece in your memory.

You broke the kiss panting and staring wide eyed.

“Just who are you,” you whispered as you lent your head against his shoulder.

“Everything you do feels so right, but I can’t remember you.” He smiled, a sad smile, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I want you, my love,” he said with half lidded eyes.

And like habit,

You said yes.

Against a tree, deep in the forest, you ravaged this man who you’ve loved so much, yet who has been burnt from your memory. He stared up at you as his mouth worked your tip and his hands worked the base of your cock. Eyes tear filled yet perfect, seeming as though they were begging you to use his mouth as you pleased. Every time you moved slightly he’d moan around your cock, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. It was intoxicating, the way his pink lips worked so skilfully and as though they’ve been there before. As if they knew everything that made you come undone. You grabbed his head by his hair and forced him to take you all the way. He gagged before grabbing your thigh and letting you move his head as you pleased. His occasional moans were enough to get you burning on the inside, aching for him. Pulling him off your dick, he whined before you pulled him off the floor and pulled his shorts and panties right down. You lifted one of his legs above your shoulder to support him better before shoving a finger into his wet pussy, not needing any lube from how wet he already was. You pumped that one finger in and out of him slowly, painfully. You watched his face as he squirmed in pain.

“Hahh~ more, faster…please?” He moaned out.

You smiled at him as you pushed in one more finger and started moving them faster.

“Someone’s already all stretched out, like a good slut. I’m sure you were thinking of me a lot, hmm? Not being able to tell me who you are or show yourself really got to you, bad little whore.” You whispered into his ear.

“Mmfh! It- ah! It was so hard! I missed you too much~ ngh!” He groaned. You pulled your fingers out and licked them clean while staring him in the eye. You closed in and kissed him, letting him taste himself from your mouth. You moved down along his chest, giving him little hickeys and kisses along his whole neck and collar.

“Please…put it inside.” He begged. You smiled as you followed his begs. Aligning your dick with his sopping pussy before pushing in. It was almost like he was made for you, fitting you perfectly inside him. He moaned out loud and pulled your head down to his chest. You started moving, fast straight away, having no patience left to tease the wanderer anymore.

“Fuck, I feel as though I’ve done this before. Have I? Why don't you be a good little cock slut and tell me everything?” You say as you pull his hair so that he faces you.

“I- ah!! I can’t tell you~ mhfg, fuck me oh archons!” He whined. You furrowed your brows and sped up. Even now he couldn’t open his mouth.

Even now you were left in the dark.

You kissed him violently, smashing your lips together as you pounded his small frame and trailed your free hand up to twist and pinch his nipples. He moaned into your lips and you did nothing but speed up again. Chasing your own high.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He moaned out.

“Then cum, slut.” And he did. He let out a long moan as he tried to close his legs, but you kept them open and continued so that you could feel release too.

“I can't any more n- no! Too sensitive~ ah!” He moaned, but you ignored his pleas.

“I don't even know your name yet I feel like I’ve fucked you senseless a million times. Yet you seem to know me so well, plastering yourself on me like some cheap whore,” you said, accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. The wanderer was a mess beneath your arms now. Crying and moaning at how good it feels.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you groan.

“Cum inside me- ngh!! Ah yes, please!!” He whined and begged. You smiled and nodded slightly, after all, you couldn’t refuse such a good boy. With a few more thrusts you came inside him, filling his pussy up with your cum. You stayed like that for a moment as you caught your breath.

“I wish I knew who you were, you know,” you sighed. The wanderer looked away from you, in a solemn way.

“And I wish I could tell you, but even if I did, you still wouldn’t remember me.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You sighed again and pulled out. The man gasped at the sudden emptiness. You pulled your own clothes back on before helping him out and dressing him again. You then picked him up and carried him back to yours.

As you came home, you lay him down in bed alongside you, already knowing that he would be gone before you next opened your eyes. But you silently prayed that he’d still be there. Yet before you fell asleep, you stared at him, letting all the details you’d long forgotten sink back in.

“I forgot how beautiful you were,” you smiled.

He said nothing in return, just blankly stared at you.

“I’m sorry.”

In the morning he was gone. Just as you’d predicted, any trace of him vanished, all that was left were his words echoing in your mind.

The last words of an old flame.

#im sorry guys #genshin impact #smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin #scaramouche genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #male reader

[sweetsweetjellybean]

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 1 | Empty Streets

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Inspired by As The World Burns

Special thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for her permission and encouragement. Please go check out her amazing fic.

TW: FemReader, Eventual Smut, Mentions of self-harm & death. No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC: 5807

Steve watches the tears run down the flushed swell of Nancy’s cheeks, her delicate fingers pressed to her lips. A sorrowful smile stretches his mouth, his soft hazel eyes meeting her sky blue. The last blue. The gaping maw of the rift stitching closed for good. Forever. With Steve on one side and the rest of them safe on the other. 

It was finally over and they had won. He decided long ago he couldn’t live if he lost one of them. So, in a split second decision, he gave his life to save them all. It had to be him. No complaints. 

The last glimpse of blue shrinks into a sliver of bright light resembling the waning moon, disappearing until darkness and the red glow of death are all that’s left. He places his hand on the seam of the solid black rock, bowing his head, whispering his last goodbye. 

He walks alone through the familiar decaying streets. The buildings crack and groan, pieces breaking off, turning to sand before they hit the ground. With Vecna dead, the Hawkins he created will be swallowed by the desert and the electrical storms until the world collapses in on itself and explodes in something akin to a supernova. 

He knew all this when he called for El to close the gate. When he pushed a resisting Dustin through into Robin’s arms. In the end, Nancy, the kids, they were all that mattered. He had to die to become the man they deserved. 

The man he always wanted to be. 

The ending of his story has been written–there's no more guessing before turning the page. Loneliness wraps its icy fingers around his shoulder, bringing the comfort of an old friend. He feels lighter now that he's shed the ties and obligations to those he loves. He's free to choose his own death and not without options. Armed and still carrying the backpack stuffed with preparations to survive the last battle, he can walk to Forest Hill, put a bullet in his brain, and fall next to his friend, forever sharing his grave, but he's not there yet. He'd rather go out fighting, and the monsters filling this place will be eager to accommodate.

The wind picks up, blowing the golden-brown strands away from his face as he watches red bolts of lighting scorch through the thick omnipresent fog blanketing the sky to strike the clock tower of the public library. The building stands tall and imposing, still intact in this realm, rotting and covered with ropey vines. A storm is coming. He’ll need shelter soon. Maybe the white and brick house on Maple street. He could crawl into her bed and close his eyes, pretending as he drifts off the sleep that it was a night he snuck through her window. With any luck, he’d never wake up. The ground trembles with the deafening booms of thunder, but as he walks away, it’s a quieter sound that catches his ears.

“Help me, please.”

“Careful,” Steve warns, steadying you with an arm around your waist before taking the binoculars out of your hands, letting them hang by the strap around your neck, “Stop walking if you’re going to use those or you’re going to end up catching your boot in a crack.” He motions to the gaps in the dry limestone bed of lovers lake.

“Where were you two weeks ago?” You ask with a wry smile, yanking down the handkerchief that covers your nose and mouth. “Maybe I’m too clumsy to be a geologist?”

“It’s okay to laugh, Steve,” you tell him when his tight-lipped expression doesn’t waver.

Fourteen days ago, he pulled you from a pile of debris through the raging winds into the windowless back room of a flower shop, where he helped you clear the sand from your eyes and stitched the gash in your leg. He sat on the floor across from you, back pressed against the mildewing floral wallpaper, the sweet putrid perfume of decaying carnations filling your nose with the scent reminiscent of a funeral while he explained where you were and why you wouldn’t be leaving. 

As an undergrad from Perdue sent to study the rift, you had been harnessed, hanging just inside the opening of the gate, taking samples when the earth quaked and your tether snapped. If it weren’t for Steve, you wouldn’t have survived the night and he’s protected you since. Taking out stray dogs and a few bats while scavenging for food and supplies. He assures you there are other things out there. Worse things. You’ve heard their screeches and howls between the thunder claps late into the frigid nights while you lay pressed against his warm back—safe. 

He’s the hero from the storybooks that you read as a little girl, trading the armor for a leather jacket and flak vest, but still just as tragic. A ghost moving through a fog. His sorrow blends him into the landscape, keeping you at arm’s length. If you had met before all of this. Bumped into him on the street or at a coffee shop, you still would have known that he was someone you could trust. 

He casts a skeptical eye your way but you don’t miss how the corner of his mouth rises just a little.  “I don’t like being out in the open like this.” His nose scrunches as his eyes roam the rolling gray clouds that keep the Upside Down in perpetual gloaming. 

“We need to find water. I can’t keep brushing my teeth with flat Sprite.” 

Gallons of sour milk and fermented juice fill the coolers at Bradley’s Big Buy, but the plastic containers of water all sit empty just like every river, well, and stream in this version of Hawkins. 

“How many more days are we going to waste on this?” He stands just behind you while you scan the lake bed, so close you feel the warmth of his breath in your hair. 

“You have somewhere else to be?” 

Entire sections of town have disappeared. Neighborhoods and buildings are falling into unstable fissures and there are fires burning in the east. It won’t be long now but you need this and so does he. Something to focus on.

“Everything in this place is damp. There are constant storms–”

“But no rain,” he counters.

“That we’ve seen. There are plants. There are animals. There’s water. Does it look like the land slopes downward over there?”You point to a spot where the trees are denser and closer to the lake bed. 

“I guess.” He squints in the direction of your finger until you hand him the binoculars that are still around your neck. He stoops and leans in close, pressing the glass to his eyes. “Yeah, it looks that way.”

“Then that’s where we need to go.” Taking back the glasses, you set out navigating the dry, cracked terrain. Picking your way through the vines and rocks.

As you walk along, Steve’s eyes stay fixed on a rowboat draped in the coiled, spiked tendrils. He swallows hard, face paling. The pained, haunted look marring his features has the dull ache of sympathy sitting in your stomach like a heavy stone. 

“Steve,” your voice stays gentle as your fingers slide against the rough skin of his palm, wrapping around his fingers. He flinches and jerks his hand away. 

“Sorry,” he says, like he’s suddenly realized you’re there. 

“Are you okay?”

“Fi-“ he clears his throat, “Fine.” He continues ahead of you, walking toward the woods.

"No. No way."

The short, wide, yawning mouth of the cave was tucked at the bend of a steep hill covered by browned moss and woody stalks of dead brush.

"Steve–"

"We're not going in. No shot. It could be full of bats. Without another exit we could get pinned down."

“Then you can wait here,” you say, ducking under the cave's entrance.

After a click, the beam of your flashlight cuts through the darkness and bounces off the glittering limestone that drips down the walls of the narrow passage like candle wax. The darkness presses in, your panting breaths echo as your courage starts to flee until you hear an annoyed “Goddammit” and the heavy fall of Steve’s boots as he comes in behind you. 

His eyes follow the beam of his light scanning the cave's high ceiling that’s crowded with sharp tipped stalactites before he wretches them to you, his expression turning wary. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’m not worried.” Your hand wraps around his forearm sliding down the worn leather sleeve, stopping short of taking his hand, you give his wrist a light squeeze before releasing him.

“Are you always this tenacious?” 

“Always.” You cautiously start down the tunnel, watching for loose rocks and small formations, “It’s a character flaw. I’m an eternal optimist. Everything happens the way it’s supposed to.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, looking away to study the walls.

After a curve, the passage widens and the rushing of water amplifies, up ahead a faint azure glow highlights a keyhole opening. Steve hands you his flashlight and reaches back grabbing the axe attached to the back of his pack. His hands adjust his grip on the handle as he holds it at the ready. With a silent tilt of his head, he motions you behind him as he pauses at the mouth of the chamber. Keeping the flashlights pointed low, you light his path.

“It’s a ledge. A big step down.” He calculates his movement before hopping down. He moves the axe to one hand reaching out for you with the other. Clicking off one of the flashlights you shove it in your jacket pocket before taking his hand, you try to gauge the distance like he had but your foot slips at the last moment. The clang of the axe hitting the stone floor reverberates through the cave when he drops it to catch you. 

“Maybe you are too clumsy,” he comments, both hands gripping your hips. Your hands slide from around his neck to his shoulders, staying pressed against him longer than necessary, your eyes locked with his - the gold flecks a contrast in the soft blue light. The spell breaks and he steps back, bending to retrieve his weapon.

“It’s…beautiful.”

You’ve stepped into a glittering cavern. Luminescent turquoise orbs with trailing silky threads cling to the jagged domed ceiling high above a steaming basin of crystal clear water. The underground world's best impression of the starry night sky. This might be as close as you get to seeing it again.

“I’m impressed,” his axe hangs at his side with one hand on his hip, “You were right.”

His praise has you beaming as you move to the craggy edge of the basin and shrug off your pack.

“Make it fast,” he peers through the steam into the water, “I don’t wanna be around when whatever lives here comes home.”

“I don’t think anything does.” Dropping to your knees, you unzip your pack pulling out the supplies you’ll need and lining them up, “There are no tracks or vines or anything. There aren’t even any spores floating in the air. Didn’t you say they don’t like the heat?”

A fine layer of steam swirls just above the surface of the water, dampening your skin and curling the fine hair at your temples when you reach over the rim to collect a water sample. Carefully, you pour a little into the four test tubes and place them in a rack adding a test strip to each one. 

“What about those things?” His finger extends to the neon lights above.

“If we were at home, I’d say glow worms.” You grip the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head and placing it on your pack. 

“Whatever they are, they don’t seem too bothered by us,” he muses, “What are you doing now?” He steps closer, peering over your shoulder as you lower the rope with your geological thermometer attached at the end into the water. 

“Measuring the depth and taking the temperature.” The water reflects the lights making it seem lit from below. It’s so clear you can see the metal tube of the thermometer hit the sandy bottom. Handing him the end of the rope you move back to your test tubes. Pulling out the strips, using your flashlight to compare them to the control printed in the kit. 

"It's safe to drink." A wave of relief washes over you. Clean water greatly increases your chances of survival. 

"Really? You're sure?" The surprise in his voice is clear. He didn't expect to get this far. 

"I mean..yeah," you sit back on your feet, rubbing your palms over the denim covering your thighs, "We can add some iodine to be sure, but tonight we'll have drinkable water."

Hand over hand, he pulls the line out from the water. He lets the shiny metal tube dangle for a moment. The water runs down edges dripping back into the basin before he gives it to you to interpret. 

"About four feet deep with a temp of 100 degrees. Perfect." Winding the wet string around the thermometer, you place it back in your kit and repack the rest of your supplies, leaving out your empty canteen.

"Perfect for what?" His brows draw in at the middle as he watches you loosen the laces of your boots.

"What do you think?" You pull off one boot and then the other, removing your stripey socks and then stuffing them inside. 

"You're not getting in there," he scoffs, hands moving to his hips.

"Steve," you sigh, standing and unbuttoning your pants and lowering the zipper, "I'm absolutely going in there." The denim material is heavy and damp from the humidity, sticking to your skin as you peel the jeans down your legs trying your best to not let them drag on the dirt covering the cavern's floor. "It’s been two weeks since I've showered. I stink and so do you."

"This is stupid." His head shakes and he looks upwards, eyes roaming the jagged rock walls as you slip your shirt over your head. 

"It's a necessity. Besides, hot springs are supposed to be really good for you." Your fingers work the clasp of your bra and it slips down your arms. His gaze returns as you drop the lacey garment onto the growing pile of your clothing. Now you have his full attention. Even in the dim light, it's clear his eyes darken.

Ignoring the way your heart beats wildly, your thumbs hook under the silk of your panties and they slide down your hips, "There's not much point in being shy." 

With false bravado you face him naked and vulnerable, letting his eyes drink you in, "We have to take care of each other, right?"

The torrent of water is louder in the absence of his answer as it cascades through an opening in the wall feeding the basin. Holding his stare, you walk along the water's edge until you find a spot where the limestone dips and becomes smoother creating a natural point of entry. 

"Be careful." He moves closer watching you step in. 

A moan slips from your lips as you sink down letting the heat loosen the tension in your muscles, enjoying the slight sting while your skin acclimates to the temperature. Pinching your nose with your thumb and forefinger, you dip your head below the surface into the quiet depths.

He's crouching at the basin's rim letting his fingers trail through the water when you emerge, slicking back your hair, wiping away the drips clinging to your eyelashes. His lips part and you know what he's seeing, the astral light reflecting in the rivulets running down your throat, over your breasts joining the sheen covering your skin.

"Are you coming in?" 

He pulls his hand from the water, fingers flicking away the wetness and you can practically see the gears turning in his head while deciding if it’s okay to allow himself this simple pleasure.

“It’s safe, Steve. You can live a little,” you say with your sweetest smile, bending your knees so you're submerged up to your neck, watching the cracks in his resolve widen.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He asks with a heavy sigh, unsheathing the knife that he carries on his belt and placing it on a smooth rock at the edge of the pool. 

“I’m the one who has to smell you.” Taking a few steps backward to where the basin deepens enough that you can tread water without being over your head. 

His Baretta joins his knife before his fingers loosen the laces of his boots. He stands shrugging off his heavy jacket and vest letting them hit the ground with a thwack that echoes through the cave before pulling his dark gray thermal over his head adding it to the pile. Your arms glide beneath the water while your eyes travel the path from the dips in his collar bone over the expanse of his broad chest that tapers into narrow hips. 

“Ahem,” he clears his throat as he works his belt loose and you don’t feel the slightest bit of shame that he's caught you ogling. The way the corner of his mouth lifts tells you he doesn’t mind either. 

“You wanna turn around?” He asks, thumbs popping the button on his cargo pants before he moves on to the zipper.

“Nope. I’m good.”

His eyes roll before he lowers his pants and boxers, holding them in front of himself until he catches your gaze and tosses them aside. Your lips part as you suck in a much needed breath. His half aroused cock stands out from his body. Long and thick, the pink veiny shaft and perfectly shaped head bobs, swelling further under your scrutiny. He walks toward the shallow end, and you catch the full smirk twisting his lips.

“Now you can smile.” You splash him as he steps into the water shrugging, his grin continuing to broaden.

His eyes flutter closed as more of his body disappears into the steaming pool, gentle waves lapping at his torso, then shoulders, then neck. A low grown rumbles from his throat just before his head slips under completely. He resurfaces in front of you, muscles of his arms tightening as he pushes the hair from his face.

"Fuuck," his mouth remains parted as he draws out the vowel, a water drop clinging to his plush bottom lip, "This feels good."

It's hard to take your eyes off him in this light. Heat floods your belly, but it’s not the water, you want to be what’s making him feel good. He’s already given away his heart, you're certain, but she’s not here and you are.

"It's nice to be warm. It's so cold here." You drift closer, breathing in the heated air. 

"You're cold?" He asks, brows knitting together.

"Sometimes…mostly at night." A pang of guilt has you wishing you hadn’t mentioned it. The last thing you want is to cause him any more worry. "Are these new?" You reach out, fingers ghosting over purple black bruises on his shoulder and chest. 

His head bows looking at the spot you just caressed, "Maybe. I can't keep track." He straightens to his full height, chest rising above the surface, water running through the thick patch of chest hair revealing several more bruises in various stages of healing. 

"I'm sorry," you swallow hard before continuing, fingers dancing over the freckles on his skin, "I know you're doing this–"

He coughs and sinks back into the water, patting his chest, "I think the steam is loosening up some of that shit we've been breathing in."

His head tips back and you follow suit watching the tiny glowing creatures attached to the rocky dome, their silvery tails gently swaying like they’re blowing in a breeze. There's beauty in their simple existence. Head dropping back down, you catch his stare, he’s closer now, and the way he looks at you sends all your thoughts fleeing. 

"It's nice here. Quiet," his arms sweep in arcs just below the surface, hands brushing against yours when they meet in the narrow space between you, "I can almost pretend I’m somewhere else."

"Yeah?" Floating closer, you look up at him from under wet lashes. There’s something in his eyes, a fire, making the gold flecks look molten. The gap between you narrows, his chest brushes your nipples. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. He moves away, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“Do you do a lot of skinny dipping?” You ask, trying to draw him back in, craving the connection. He peers at you unsure if he should answer.

“Come on, Steve. Tell me your secrets.” Biting your lip to hide the mischief in your smile, you draw a cross over your heart, "I promise not to tell."

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve done my fair share. There was a girl-“

“There always is.”

“Are you going to let me tell you?” With a swift move of his hand, he sends a splash of water in your direction.

“Please, continue,” you giggle with a wave of your hand, licking the water off your lips.

“She and I would sneak out late at night. Meet at the lake to be together." He looks away as he tells you, lost in the memory.

"Midnight Love. Sounds romantic." 

“I don’t think she would agree,” his eyes roam the stoney walls where glowing lights fade in and out, “She wanted more and I couldn’t give it to her. There was someone else.” He meets your eyes, wanting you to understand his contrition, “I should have been honest with her. Let her move on. I know better now. I’m all done breaking hearts.”

“Will you be honest with me?” It doesn’t matter what he's done. He’s shown you who he is, and that man is one that you believe in.

“Yes.” The word is heavy on his lips, the look in his eyes confirming his promise. “I can give that to you.”

Nodding your head in acceptance, you feel the shift, bared to each other, the wall between you falls to pieces like the replica of the town that surrounds you. It gives you the courage to ask what you really want to know, “What about the girl you’re in love with, the one that’s up there waiting for you with tears in her eyes? Don’t you think her heart is broken?”

“How did–"

Shrugging, you wait for him to continue.

“We weren’t together,” he confesses, “Turns out I couldn’t give her what she needed either.”

“That’s why you're here? Because you weren't enough for her? Your friends, don’t you think they need you?”

“It's not about her. It's about all of them,” he explains, his voice thick with pain. “Before all this, all the things I thought were important were just bullshit. They held up a mirror in front of me. It made me change directions, made me try to be better. But I moved too slowly and when they really needed me, I couldn't protect them. You know how you said everything happens for a reason?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this is it. This is my reason. I had to make sure they’re safe. They can all grow up and do whatever it is that they are supposed to do, be whoever they are supposed to be. Staying behind. Letting them go,” he lays a hand over his heart, “That’s how I became who I was supposed to be and I could finally give that to them.”

“Steve…” You want to scream at him that he’s wrong. He had to be enough for them because he was already everything to you. But it would rob him of the meaning in his death, so you stay silent and let the unspoken words sink beneath the water.

“Okay, it’s your turn. You owe me a secret,” his tone turns light, and he claps his hands together, rubbing them back and forth, “Make it a good one.”

“Let’s see,” you squint up at the ceiling, “I started sneaking my mom’s cigarettes junior year and blamed it on my sister.”

“Come on, you can do better than that. I bet a pretty girl like you has left behind a trail of broken hearts. I want the good stuff.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, tipping your head onto your shoulder with a grin.

“You know you are,” his eyes roll, “Don’t try to get out of it.”

“Fine,” you pout, flicking water in his direction, “I don’t think I broke any hearts. Maybe bent a few. My friends are always losing their heads over some guy. Acting crazy. All in the name of love. I always wanted that, you know? To get swept away in some sort of fairytale romance. It just never happened for me. I thought there would be more time. I thought…"

You’ve been looking at life through a wall of rose-colored glass, sweetening your view just enough to avoid reality. Saying the words out loud, admitting it yourself–to him, you’ve crashed straight into it, the broken shards cutting you with the truth.

“We’re not going to make it home, are we?”

“Do you still want the truth?” He asks, knowing you already know the answer.

"I had a list," you swallow hard, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. "I thought if we could find water, we could check that off and solve the next problem and the next. Then we'd somehow figure out a way back. You told me from the beginning but I was too stupid–"

"Hey, you're not stupid." He moves a hand to your cheek, brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "It's not stupid to have hope."

"But it doesn't matter." Your hand covers his, indulging in his touch a moment longer before pushing it away. 

“That’s where you're wrong. It doesn’t change anything, but it matters.”

“I’m starting to feel tired. Would you mind if we leave?” Brushing past, you climb out onto the ledge. The water cascading off your body darkens the limestone floor. Your back stays turned away from him while you yank your underwear on over damp legs. The splashing sounds let you know that he is following suit. Your jeans are difficult to shimmy over your hips without drying off and you skip the bra entirely, leaving your shirt to absorb the water. Once you leave the warmth of the cave, you'll be freezing–you should have listened to Steve.

Another bad decision made with good intentions. The list of I’ll Nevers unfurls in front of you covering the path where your future should be. He had figured it out much sooner than you did. Everything you worked for and planned for was all just bullshit. Maybe if you had someone to hold up a mirror, your list would be shorter. 

The cave seems smaller, the walls press in as you finish getting dressed and gathering your gear. Space will give you perspective, although you still dread seeing that terrible red sky.

"Are you‐"

Your breath leaves through your parted lips when his hand tugs your hip, turning you, pulling you flush against his chest. He looks down at you, eyes burning, wet hair plastered to the nape of neck drips water down the column of his throat soaking his thermal. The plush curve of his lips so close to your own. 

"You're not supposed to be here," he growls as his grip tightens. "I wish you weren't. I wish you had never met me. I wish..."

The tears spill over your lash line and streak down your cheeks, you can taste their saltiness on your lips. His head dips toward you and your eyes flutter closed, holding your breath while you wait to feel the pressure of his lips. Longing and despair give way to a fear that he'll give you what you want because he grieves with you, and that will never be enough to stop the ache. But his kiss never comes. His touch lingers on your skin once he's let you go and you stand there with your eyes still shut as you listen to him walk away. 

By the time you make it out of the cave, the scarlet sky has dimmed to a deep crimson, and Steve decides it’s best to stick to the cover of the trees and spend the night in one of the cabins nestled on the shore among the forest of dead wood, instead of crossing back over the dry lake bed. Mercifully, the rolling storm clouds are gathering west of here, across town, leaving the woods quiet beside the dry leaves crunching underfoot. Your silence is an itch under his skin. He wants to apologize, but he’s not exactly sure what for. He meant the things he said, but he hadn’t intended it to sound so harsh. The light in your eyes has been the only thing pulling him back from the darkness of his own thoughts, but he can’t keep pretending. He’s accepted that this was how his story ends, but the way you look at him tempts him into believing there could be another chapter. 

A war rages inside him, confusion over when protecting you became something more. Something that feels like he’s betraying her, even though she’s a world away. The truth is, he wants you. Your endless hope, the smiles you dole out like they cost you nothing, like you don’t realize that they have become as necessary to him as the air he’s breathing. Every day, the feeling of you belonging to him grows, but it’s all mixed up with pain and resentment. He was to meet death with a calm embrace, but fate decided that peace was more than he deserved. Now he’ll fight with his last ounce of strength to give you one more breath, and part of him blames you for that. He wants inside you, to claim you as his, but he can’t accept your comfort without making the pain at the end worse for both of you.

These thoughts and questions, you, Nancy, are different currents clashing in a riptide, and he’s trying his best to keep his head above water. As the mist thins, a tiny cottage comes into view, partially hidden by the brush and the gloom. The flaking white paint and curling black shingles are tinged green with mold. With a lone vine, dry and dead, snaking down from the roof across the weathered door. He reaches out, wrapping a hand around your wrist, conveying with a look that you should wait here for him to clear the inside. Walking up the three stone steps, he unsheathes his knife to cut away the vine. It takes a few firm pushes from his shoulder to get the warped door to budge from its frame. The musty air hits his nose as soon as it swings open. This place has been closed up tight. Steve moves quickly through the small space, checking for any signs of creatures, but it’s untouched aside from a few dead vines wrapped around the exposed beams of the ceiling.

When he returns, you’re standing with your arms crossed over your chest, but the look written across your delicate features has changed to anger. His brows pull together, and his lips part to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I don’t wish that.”

“What?” He asks, confused.

“That I never met you. I don’t wish that,” you move closer until your toe to toe with him. “I’m here for a reason. My life has a purpose too,” you say, laying a hand over your heart, anger and sadness making your voice crack. “If you think you’re supposed to die for them. Then I’m here to make sure you aren’t alone.”

The way his mouth gapes in surprise only fuels your resolve.

“You’re not supposed to be alone.” You turn away and walk inside. He follows, shutting the door behind you.

A chill seeps through the damp mattress and the thick stack of crochet blankets piled on top. Despite being fully clothed, the cold works its way through the layers of material straight through to his skin. He’s lying on his side, staring at the closed door of the bedroom, replaying the words you said over and over. He can feel you behind him. Tiny pockets of heat wherever you connect, your forehead pressed to his back, hands tucked between you, the material of his sweatshirt balled in your fist. He’s still not sure what he should have said. The rest of the evening was spent without discussion. In his head, every sentence he forms is chased away with the image of you standing in the cave with your eyes closed, ready to be kissed. His instinct is to act first and think later, but this time the consequence is your heart, and he’s never been more unsure.

“Did you hear about the drunk geologist?” 

“What?” It takes a second for your words to break through his thoughts.

“He finally hit rock bottom,” you deadpan, your breath warming his back. “Do you know what kind of fruit geologists eat?”

His mouth quirks. Somehow you know just what he needs. 

“Pome-granite.”

He rolls over to face you. Your eyes gleam in the darkness, lashes fluttering, your lips stretched into a smile, you’re so beautiful, and it makes him feel lightheaded.

“You know you have to be patient with us geologists…we all have our faults.”

“God, these are so bad,” he says, his hand landing on your hip, his thumb finding its way under the edge of your sweatshirt to draw circles on your skin. 

“I have more.” Your hands smooth up the front of his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, eyes locking with his, and he can see it again, the hope. It’s a beacon in a fog guiding him home. 

“Of quartz, you do.”

Your giggles make his smile bigger until he can feel it in the apples of his cheeks. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s felt like this–you make him happy.

“Let me warm you up,” he says when your laughter subsides. His hands smooth over your shoulders until they’re wrapped around your back, pulling you closer, not stopping until your forehead is against his lips and there is no space left between you. Sighing softly, you push a leg between his, until you fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, but as your warmth fills all the cold places inside him, he knows he should be thanking you.

AN: Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you think? Are these two going to make it? Did you spot the easter egg from our friend @loveshotzz? I'll give you hint this ties in to one of her fics. Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Part 2 Here

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington x fem #stranger things fanfiction #if tomorrow never comes

[jessamine-rose]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Ghost Heart ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Long before A Winter Night’s Lazzo, I was already down bad for a certain Harbinger. This idea for Yandere! Scaramouche/ Wanderer randomly manifested at 1:00 a.m. and, like a fool, I decided to write it. It is my sincere wish that you all cry over enjoy this fic (*´ω`*)

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, mention of death and kidnapping, 3.3 spoilers

♡ 3k words under the cut ♡

“You’re still here.”

There is nothing grand about this specific Desert House. The rental space is sparsely furnished, fit for a party of two. Everything is the way Scaramouche had left it—an unmade bed, a small suitcase, a set of chains reduced to solitary links.

A vintage tea set sits on the table. One cup is filled with tea, a bitter blend judging by the scent. The other cup is empty.

The Wanderer crosses the threshold and approaches the ghost on the floor.

Not a ghost. His beloved.

Somehow, your countenance has dimmed since his departure. Dried tears and dark eye circles decorate your face. Your gaze is blank, lifeless, akin to that of a doll.

“Why…why are you here?” He raises his voice, unable to hide his disbelief.

His chest feels heavy. Though no organ beats within, the concept of heartache comes to mind. Behind him, a strong gust of wind assails the forest and slams the door shut.

Your response is a confused frown.

“Do I know you?”

You’ve forgotten him.

The revelation stings despite his preconceived knowledge. In his defense, the Wanderer hadn’t intended a lover’s reunion. He only returned to this place to reminisce, to confirm your freedom, to see if he could settle for any memento of you.

So what prevented you from leaving?

It was your prisoner, Scaramouche, who destroyed your chains prior to the erasure of his existence. His current self is the last person whom you should be crossing paths with.

The Wanderer only offers a false smile.

“I’m just another person passing through,” he says lightly. He introduces himself with his new name suggested by the Traveler.

“I see…” You repeat his name to yourself. Similar to his previous monikers, it has never sounded more lovely in your voice.

Nor so innocent. Fear, hatred, sorrow, pity, joy, fondness—all of those familiar sentiments are lost in your tone.

It is difficult to maintain his composure. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing in this house? Nothing about you screams ‘happy tourist.’”

“I don’t know.”

The answer comes out in a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, you finally stand up and make proper eye contact with him.

“My name is ______,” you tell him. “Please excuse my appearance; nobody has visited this place before. I’m aware that I look like a wreck.”

“That is an understatement,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I nearly mistook you for a ghost. So why don’t you explain your circumstances before I consider sending you to Bimarstan?”

“...All right.” Looking away, you take a seat at the table.

The Wanderer joins you.

You fill his teacup. “Are you sure that you’d like to hear my story? This is hard to explain, and it might take a while.”

He crosses his arms. “I have all day.”

“Okay. Would you like some desserts? The kitchen is fully stocked; I know what pairs best with Misty Garden.”

“No thanks, I’m not fond of sweets.”

How long ago was your last tea ceremony? Not even your defiant moods produced this amount of tension. Or is this merely the distance between two strangers?

“There is something wrong with my memories,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “What do you mean by that?”

Something wrong? Did Irminsul not purge him from your memories?

“What I’m saying is that I have little to no recollection of how I ended up here.”

Your mannerisms are the same. He never thought that the mundane act of passing a teacup would feel so nostalgic.

You continue speaking. “I have vivid memories of my early life. I had a family, friends, a peaceful home. But everything after that is static and fragmented. It’s like I forgot everything between then and now.”

He grips his cup. “So what is your first faulty memory?”

“I see flashes of red and violet," you tell him, “along with a human face. I can’t remember the details but I know it belonged to a beautiful person. Then I look down and there are snacks, tea sets, wrapped gifts all prepared by my own hands. I get the feeling that I was extremely happy, happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

The beginning of your courtship.

You were such a cute, interesting civilian back in those days. Always shyly greeting him, offering heartfelt gifts, inviting him to your home for tea. Despite being above such human needs, Scaramouche found himself endeared by your efforts.

From the moment he met you, his chest began to feel less hollow.

A dreamy sigh. “I’m pretty sure that I’d fallen in love with somebody.”

“How romantic,” he says sarcastically, glancing at his reflection in the teacup. “And you have no memory, at all, of your presumed lover?”

“Yes,” you reply sadly. “It was a short period of my life, one which lasted…months? It’s all so blurry, and I wish I could say the same for what happened next.”

A dark look passes over your face. But this time, your animosity isn’t directed at him.

“One day, the Fatui burned down my village. Don’t ask me why; all I know is that I was separated from my family then kept as a prisoner. I never saw them again.”

“What else do you remember from that period of your life?”

You look around the house. “I didn’t have an ordinary prison. It was a pretty place, a fancy house in Snezhnaya. I can see myself staring out the window, roaming the halls, crying myself to sleep. I usually felt scared, depressed, happy once in a while…but never alone.”

Your shared home.

He wonders if that ostentatious manor still stands. It was the stage for several quarrels, punishments, breakdowns, tense meals, intimate nights, cuddle sessions after his nightmares. An ersatz home which owed its warmth to your company.

The tea tastes perfectly bitter.

“Is that all?” he asks. “Did you spend all your days in that prison?”

Your cup shakes in your hands.

“There were visits. From a masked man who called himself the Doctor. Once, I was brought to his laboratory and he…he operated on me; he said it was to keep me alive. Would you find me crazy if I told you that I’ve lived for decades? It feels—no, I know it’s been that long.”

Dottore.

His sole glimmer of relief is Dottore’s mercy on you. Even without knowing the truth of Niwa’s death, Scaramouche was paranoid throughout your operation. The time spent waiting for you to wake up had felt like an eternity.

“I wouldn’t put it past the Fatui to curse a person with immortality,” he grimaces.

You give him an odd look. Suspecting his investment in your story, perhaps. That is new; you always saw the best in everyone, including him.

You take another sip of tea. “That’s all I can say about my time with the Fatui. One day, not too long ago, they brought me to Inazuma. Followed by Sumeru.”

Your final moments together.

Those days are still fresh in his memory. After the Electro Gnosis was acquired, the two of you quickly left Inazuma. Then Scaramouche confined you to this wretched house, splitting his time between this place and the Akademiya.

That time, he was purely focused on his godly ascension. He was so foolish to think that his lifelong dream was at his fingertips when you were already in his arms.

He grits his teeth. “And what happened here?”

You shrug. “I know for sure that I wasn’t a happy tourist, because I don’t remember any other part of Sumeru. Do you see those broken chains? Those were used to shackle me.”

There is a scar on your ankle. The sight triggers a fresh stab of guilt.

“It went by so quickly,” you whisper, “but I wasn’t lonely at all. I can hear conversations between me and a voice, but I can’t decipher any of the words. Next, I’m looking at my legs and the chains are off. Then I…I can’t remember!”

Even the Wanderer fails to predict the shift in your demeanor. You bang your cup on the table, spilling tea all over the wooden surface, and burst into tears.

“I don’t know what happened after!” you wail. “I can’t sense anything, just this strong feeling of dread. Then after retracing my steps, that’s when I realize how empty I feel. Something is missing—it feels so wrong.”

His departure.

If the Wanderer were to identify his deepest regret, it would be his last memory of you. He was so blindsided by his grief, desperate to return the lives he had stolen from his loved ones. From you.

It was laughable, really. He remembers breaking the chains and shaking you off him. Yet after everything he’d put you through, it was you who stayed inside and insisted that he rethink his decision. Be it out of forgiveness or vengeance, he still hasn’t figured it out.

Tea drips onto the table. The Wanderer didn’t notice that his own hand was shaking.

Fate truly finds delight in playing cruel tricks on its prisoners.

He takes a proper look at you. You’ve always been an emotional creature, a slave to human fragility. But not even his previous acts of cruelty had driven you to such anguish.

No, he was the true fool. How could he underestimate the intricacy with which your existences were intertwined? How could he leave your fate to the arbitrary laws of this world? Instead of liberating you, he only cursed his beloved once more.

On instinct, he raises his hand to wipe your tears but catches himself at the last second.

“If these memories cause you such pain,” he says gravely, “then why bother reliving them? Is it not easier to move on and lead a new life?”

“No, I can’t.” You shake your head vigorously, a stubborn gesture he is all too acquainted with. “If I do that, how could I possibly make sense of anything?”

The Wanderer says nothing. You wipe your tears and point at the teapot.

“Isn’t this blend of tea quite bitter?”

“It is. I find that flavor superior to sweets.”

“A long time ago, I would have disagreed with you. I wasn’t fond of bitter flavors in my youth but one day, during that time of my life when I was most happy, I gained a taste for it! Nobody in my family likes bitter food so who was the one that influenced my palate?”

Your suitcase is next. When you turn it over, an assortment of clothes and ornaments spills out onto the floor.

“These items! I could never afford such luxuries, and these are all in my favorite style and color. If these were gifts, they must’ve come from someone who knew me dearly.”

The Wanderer can only remain silent as you parse through every memory preserved in the Desert House. Sticky candies purchased just for you. Handcrafted gifts which Scaramouche had nitpicked but secretly adored. Objects of hobbies which he’d viewed as idle distractions unless he was entertaining your whims.

“I have to remember!” You fall to your knees, dissolving into a fresh wave of hysteria. “How could I forget someone so important to me?!”

How unsightly.

If this was one of your old breakdowns, he could reprimand you then make quick work of tidying you up. But such tough love is reserved for Scaramouche and his beloved, not for the Wanderer and a stranger.

In his long life, you were the one person who never betrayed him. So why did he leave you first? Love, sacrifice, repentance…what he claimed to be a parting gift was only a selfish act to end his own suffering.

Instead, he crouches next to you and awkwardly pats your back. When you wrap your arms around him, he refrains from drawing you closer.

There is a long pause.

“Hey…did you tell me the truth earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

You break off the hug, hands moving to the blue side of his tunic. A light tug exposes the deep scar on his shoulder.

“Where did you get this?” you ask softly. “It…I don’t know why but it caught my eye.”

He stiffens. “That is none of your business.”

He said the same thing when it was a fresh wound. Nonetheless, you fretted over the blemish and told him to exercise more caution during his missions. You never listened to him when he insisted that puppets could withstand more damage.

You look up, taking in every detail of the Wanderer’s stunned expression.

“You feel familiar, too. I don’t know if it’s muscle memory or a gut feeling but…” You grip his shoulders, blinking back tears. “Did anything ever happen between us?”

He could grant you a small mercy.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he replies. He holds your wrists, mustering a glare. “It is vulgar to point out one’s imperfections in such a manner, you know.”

Your curiosity morphs into indignance. “What do you mean ‘nothing’? After everything I’ve told you, you should know that any small memory is worth everything!”

If only you knew.

Against his better judgment, his hand finds its way to your cheek.

“Really,” he mutters. “You haven’t changed at all.”

To think that even after obtaining a heart, a part of him remains empty. And what more for your journeys continuing to diverge? If he could indulge his delusions once more, he might just believe that fate is finally on his side.

Never mind if he is wrong. If one truth exists in this world, it is that you are the only part of his past worth holding on to.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“What?” You blink at him, eyes wide.

The Wanderer levels you with a serious look. “Don’t make me say it twice. If you are tormented by all these mementos, then it is common sense to leave this place.”

“But I—!”

“Staying here will not bring back your mystery companion,” he snaps. “And if your memory is so helpful, you’d know that your former dream was to explore Teyvat. I couldn’t grant that wish before, ______, but I can do it now.”

You avert your gaze. “I can believe that. But why are you…?”

He stands up, holding out his hand to you. Any perceived confidence is merely an illusion to mask his own turbulent thoughts.

“Frankly, you would be a fool to say yes,” he admits. “I have no home, no kin, no destination. But I can promise you my heart and all that it has to offer.”

What sentimental rubbish. To your credit, many of your sweet remarks were brushed off for the purpose of concealing his flustered reactions.

He isn’t blind to the hesitance in your gaze. He can see it now, the tug-of-war between doubt and hope. The trust he will need to regain.

The warmth of your hand hasn’t changed.

“I’ll go with you.” You timidly bow your head. It almost reminds him of the first time you met. “What do I have to lose?”

“I hope you understand what you’re doing,” he warns. He wipes your tears with his free hand. “If you insist on continuing down this path, then don’t blame me for what comes next.”

“Noted!” You stand up and lift your head. Your gaze is brighter, clearer this time. “I still have questions, though. Lots of them.”

His response is a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.”

How much should he reveal to you, he wonders? And will it be a beautiful lie or the ugly truth? He has already found the answer for himself but you are a different matter.

The Wanderer gives the house another critical glance.

“Firstly, we must pack your belongings,” he announces. “Pick the items which will be of use to us. Everything else will be left behind.”

“Wait, how can I decide on that?” you exclaim. “This is all I have!”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Then shall I choose for you?”

The speed at which you begin packing amuses him. He supposes that the desire for power is one he can never shake off, especially after becoming human.

After reorganizing your suitcase, the two of you finish your tea. Your conversations are still lackluster in comparison to your previous tea ceremonies, but he will acknowledge your change in countenance.

He hasn’t seen that precious smile in forever. This time, he will make sure that it survives every day in your new life.

Outside, the wind has calmed to a gentle breeze. You idle at the threshold, to which your new companion flashes you an impatient look.

“It’s too late for you to back out,” he says, harsher than intended. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. “There is no need to be nervous.”

That is what brings you out of your reverie. “You’re right. Where do we go now?”

Where will you go? There is his current lodgings; he will need to change rooms unless you are open to sharing a bed again. Then while you’re in Sumeru, a few tourist attractions will do. You never did get to enjoy the region as a couple.

“Let’s explore this forest first,” he decides. “The scenery is absolutely breathtaking, and I know a vantage point. You are just the type of person to get easily excited by the view.”

“For someone who claims to be an unimportant acquaintance, you sure know a lot about me,” you shoot back. Your lips curve into a small smile. “...Thank you. I’ll be in your care.”

That heavy feeling returns to his chest.

“There is no need to thank me.” The Wanderer stares ahead, but the flush in his cheeks betrays his feelings. “I see little point in it.”

Honestly, had he known how burdensome a heart could be, perhaps he wouldn’t have sought one to begin with. But at this point, the consequences can only be accepted.

If this is his punishment for committing the sin of love, then he shall gladly pay the price.

♡

Before anyone asks, I have no plans to write a Scara longfic. Due to his character growth, I find it difficult to write a fic that incorporates his full story. I’m also just not interested in writing a longfic for him or other characters.

Aahh I hope y’all enjoyed this!! Scaramouche/ Wanderer is very dear to my heart and I hope I did him justice. At least he and his darling get some sort of twisted happily ever after <3

Tag a Scaramouche enjoyer!! @ddarker-dreams @after-witch @leftdestiny-posts @oofasleep @lcveaesop @harmonysanreads @dreamii-yume @cinnamonest @ladycoleigh @robindere @venranae @yhreah @scaranya @misachan1506 @themiraclouskeeper @phen0l @nimandu

#scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere wanderer #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

[smileysuh]

the alpha's right hand - TEASER

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Mingyu had thought he’d lost you - if even for a moment - and he’s not willing to lose you ever again. He doesn’t want you running into the woods anymore when you’re having emotions, he wants you running to him, and he kisses you as if to say ‘please, never leave.’ He had always thought Seungcheol would be his alpha, but you’d shown up and flipped his world upside down. Mingyu doesn’t care about appeasing his friend anymore- all he cares about is appeasing you- pleasuring you, giving you everything you could ever possibly want, everything you could ever need.

tw/cw. a/b/o au & power structures, mentions of a bad pack past, one mention of child death, blood/childbirth, exhibitionism/outside sex, clothed dry humping, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job, big dick!Mingyu, pussy stretching, unprotected sex, pullout method, groping, overstimulation, praise, dirty talk, needy!Mingyu, hair pulling, orgasm control, small noncon/impreg thoughts, etc… I pet names: (hers) alpha. (his) Big guy, puppy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.4k

🍭 aus. a/b/o au, werewolf au, alpha!reader, beta!Mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this fic is in the Blood Moon universe, if I end up writing another fic for this au, it will get a masterlist, but until then read cheol here

His pace quickens as he reaches the tree line. It’s harder to track you with the forest smells, but Mingyu does his best, stopping at a few points to take deep breaths. You have a note of citrus in your scent, and Mingyu’s come to enjoy the taste of it on his tongue.

But then, the smell stops, and Mingyu finds himself at the foot of a tree. For the life of him, he can’t figure out which way you’ve gone, and he cusses loudly, kicking the pine.

“What the fuck?” 

Your groggy voice causes Mingyu’s head to snap up, and he peers through the branches- locking eyes with you.

“Alpha?” he calls.

“Mingyu?”

He watches you rub your eyes, sitting up on the branch you must have been laying on. “What are you doing up there?” he asks, relief flooding his system.

“Trying to get a decent sleep until someone kicked my bed- why are you out here attacking trees?” you retort. 

“I thought I’d lost your scent-” he tries to explain, which causes you to laugh.

“You were looking for me?” you ask, beginning to climb down.

“Well.. yeah. You weren’t in the RV.”

“Couldn’t spend a night with those girls,” you respond, jumping the last meter and landing on your feet in front of him. “They gossip too much.”

“Really?” Mingyu cocks his head as he looks at you. “Gossiping about what?”

“First kisses, boys, that sort of thing.” You won’t meet his gaze, and Mingyu realizes immediately what you’re talking about.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah, oh.” You tug your flannel tighter around your body and Mingyu wants to take you in his arms-

“Wait… alpha, are you jealous?”

READ IT HERE NOW

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#mingyu #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #mingyu svt #svt smut #svt #svt mingyu #a/b/o svt #abo svt #a/b/o mingyu

[kit-kat-katie]

Moonlight Sunrise

A/N: I'm trying to aim for a fic a month for the months that I am in school, and I know I am cutting it close to the deadline, but I made it! I hope you enjoy this third part - it doesn't flow as smoothly as other parts since it was written in three disjointed writing sessions, but I like the final product. See you all in October or whenever I can write next. :)

TW: Canon-typical violence, small bit of bodily gore and blood, brief torture mention, reader throws knives

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (romantic)

Summary: The next day of the 75th Hunger Games brings new allies, new feeling, new foes, new adventure, and new tragedy in your life. Contemplation is not an option - one must act with haste and caution if they want to keep their home safe.

(<- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

You and Finnick both watch Katniss and Peeta say a final goodbye to the female morphling who has died. The cannon is a bleak reminder of all that you’ve lost, and Finnick gives a quick look back to ensure that the mutts have not followed you on to the beach.

The trident finds its way into Finnick’s grasp as he scouts the perimeter. You walk a step closer to Katniss and Peeta as an airship comes from the sky to retrieve the body.

“She sacrificed herself for me and I don’t even know her name.” Peeta looks down, and you can’t help but feel bad.

You take a few steps back to let them talk for a moment as the sunrise distracts you from what’s going on.

It’s a beautiful day, and it’ll be even more beautiful when I’m out of here. The sunrise always looked beautiful from the beaches in District Four.

Finnick finds himself fishing, a comfort for the both of you, and his trident lands a catch. You weren’t sure if District 12 kids were used to having fish for breakfast, but they would make do.

You all would because that’s the only choice you have.

Adapt or die.

~

Katniss devours the fish in front of her as you and Finnick take small bites of the fish. You finish yours, and Finnick adds another piece of meat to your hands before you can object.

Peeta opens a clam with his knife, and he takes the pearl of the clam to give to Katniss. You nudge Finnick, who rolls his eyes at the gesture, with your elbow. You bite down on your lip to suppress your laugh as Katniss observes the pearl in her hand.

A scream from a forest pulls everyone’s attention to the other side of the arena. You all quickly stand up as you watch the wave crash into one sector of the Cornucopia, and as it crashes over the center, it spreads to the other parts of the Cornucopia in smaller waves. The water comes crashing close to all of you, and your legs are soaked by the waves. It’s refreshing to you, but the dull reminder of a cannon and an airship brings you back to reality.

It all could be gone, just like that.

“Someone’s here.” Katniss grabs an arrow as Peeta ducks. Finnick’s stray hand covers your abdomen as his hand tightly grips his trident. 

Make it more obvious, Finnick.

Finnick peeks from the bushes for a moment as you hide behind them

“Johanna.” He softly says before moving towards the water again.

Your eyes widen as you immediately follow behind Finnick.

“Johanna!” Finnick waves his hand as you look back and gesture for Peeta and Katniss to follow.

“They’re friends,” You say as you navigate the rocky beach, “and I’m friends with Johanna too. You’ll be fine with us.”

They both, reluctantly, follow behind you as you approach the three people in the distance.

~

“We were all the way deep in the jungle, where I thought it was safe,” Johanna, covered in blood, holds her axe to the side, “I thought it was water. Turned out to be blood. Hot, thick blood that was coming down-“

“Tick-tok, tick-tok.” Wiress approaches Johanna, who pushes her away immediately.

“-and it was choking us. We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind. That’s when Blight hit the forcefield.” Johanna takes a quick moment to compose herself. “He wasn’t much, but he was from home.”

“Tick-tok, tick-tok.” Wiress grabs Johanna’s shoulder, and Johanna shoots you and Finnick a knowing glare.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks as Wiress continues repeating the same phrase over and over.

“She’s in shock,” Beetee explains as he finishes washing the rest of the blood off of him, “Dehydration isn’t helping. You have fresh water?”

You watch Wiress continue to hang onto Johanna, and you step past Finnick to intervene before Johanna does something she’ll regret.

“We can get some-“

“Tick-tok, tick-tok-“

Wiress clings to Johanna, but you place a hand on Wiress’s shoulder. She immediately places her hands on your shoulders as she continues to talk.

“I know, I know-“ You nod at Wiress, but Johanna’s reached her limit.

“Just- just shut up!” She screams at Wiress, and you lightly push Wiress behind you as Johanna charges at her.

“Hey, lay off her!” Katniss yells before intervening herself.

This can’t possibly end well.

Katniss charges at Johanna and tries to get her hands on her, but Johanna pushes her back. Finnick is quick to push himself between the two of them. You want to help, but Johanna’s stronger than you are, pissed-off or not, and you’re not wanting to test her as is. Finnick pulls Johanna further into the water as Peeta holds Katniss back.

“I got them out for you,” Johanna yells at Katniss before directing her anger to Finnick, “let me go!”

Johanna continues to struggle against Finnick’s grip, but the situation is diffused, for now, so your attention turns back to Wiress.

“I’m sorry, Wiress.” You look at the blood on your hands from Wiress along with the blood on Wiress herself. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You gently lead Wiress into the water as she continues to tell you ‘tick-tok’.

What are you trying to tell me?

You’re too tired and stressed about every little thing to try and figure it out, but you notice that Wiress is focused on Katniss. Katniss’ eyes meet yours, and you happily wave her over to help you clean her off.

It’ll help keep Katniss focused on something besides trying to hurt Johanna.

“I got this.” Katniss says as you gently pour some water onto Wiress’ clothes. 

The murderous intent has left Katniss’ eyes, so you switch spots with her before heading over to Johanna and Finnick.

“Finnick, you’re lucky I didn’t kill her-“

You giggle under your breath after splashing a moderate amount of water onto Johanna and Finnick.

“-Perhaps you could save the murder for after lunch?”

Finnick heartily laughs as Johanna sends you a deadly glare.

“You look like shit. Did you tumble down a mountainside?”

“I did, actually,” A light smirk plays on your face as the next comment flies out of your mouth, “but I think you looked better with blood than without it-“

You choke on the large splash of water that Johanna sends your way. You wipe the water out of your face as you stand there, aghast. Finnick throws his head back and laughs as Johanna manages to crack a smile.

“I missed you too, Johanna,” You roll your eyes before washing the blood off of your hands, “and I wouldn’t laugh, Finnick.”

You lightly flick some water onto Finnick, and his warm smile sends butterflies into your stomach as Johanna carefully observes the both of you. 

The playfulness in his eyes sends you retreating back to the shore, but he manages to grab your arm and pull you under water.

You quickly remerge from the water as Finnick pulls you towards him. You both laugh as you place your hands on his chest.

Finnick takes one of your hands and pulls you towards the shore as you try to shake off any previous shyness or embarrassment. You look back at Johanna, who quirks an eyebrow at you.

Don’t mess that up, she mouths to you as you wink at her.

I wasn’t planning on it.

~

The cool water feels refreshing against your skin. District 4 had taught you to find comfort in water, and your first round of the Hunger Games taught you how much of a luxury water truly was.

Dehydration was a major player in your Hunger Games as the main careers were the only ones with access to water with their strong set of sponsor. You were, in all senses, a fish out of water. Dead bodies by berry bushes taught you how to forge, but you would have been dead without a few sponsors of your own. The first canister of water came from your mentors, and you showed your gratefulness through a warm smile and a small ‘thank you’.

That moment was played over and over across Panem. Hubris flowed and weaved through most of the tributes, but not you, apparently. Finnick would laugh and tell you that you learned that from your favorite mentor. You wanted to tease him back, to say that you didn’t learn anything from him, but you did learn how humble and kind he truly was.

Instead, you told him that Mags was your favorite mentor, and he didn’t talk to you for three whole hours.

Your eyes fall to Finnick’s form next to you. He was attractive, with plenty of golden boy looks and charms to spare. You’d never live it down if you told him that, but you weren’t sure if you’d live at this moment, so maybe another moment to see his smile would be worth the temporary embarrassment.

“Are you watching me?” A sly smile rests on his face as he stands next to you on the shoreline.

“In your dreams, pretty boy.”

His trident sinks into the sand as his head leans toward you.

“I like when you call me those names, sweetheart.”

His hot breath on your neck sends a wave of shivers down your spine, and you raise an eyebrow at him before turning to face him. His lips are inches away from yours, but you want to tease him before he gets what he wants.

“Oh, and what else would you like me to call you? Handsome, perhaps?” A coy smile, matched with wide eyes, causes Finnick to laugh for a moment before responding.

“Anything would be good, as long as it came from your lips.”

“Finnick!” You lightly push him away before nervously looking around you.

“You’re nervous about one of them seeing you after you kissed me in front of the whole Capitol?”

“That was different,” You slightly whine as Finnick looks at you with amusement, “I wanted to make sure that you knew how I felt in case something happened to me.”

His mood darkens for a moment.

“No one’s going to hurt you, not on my watch,” His eyes light up again, “but it’s sweet to know that you think of me from time to time.”

“Of course I do,” Mischief finds a way to lace itself back into your voice, “you’re my dearest mentor.”

“Not your favorite?” His puppy dog eyes don’t convince you one bit.

“Still Mags,” You laugh after he sighs in defeat, “but you’re my favorite person, if that’s any consolation prize.”

“I still want to be your favorite mentor.” He grumbles as you continue to merrily laugh.

I wish we could spend every day like this on the coastline at home. Life has a different plan, it always does.

~

“This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock,” Katniss explains as your group walks toward the Cornucopia, “with a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge. It all starts with the lightning, then the blood rain, fog, monkeys… that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits over there.”

You admire her deducing skills as she points out each sector. You do your best to memorize them - it could help save your life.

“Wiress, you’re a genius.” Finnick softly compliments her as you approach the weapon rack. 

You grab as many throwing knives as possible along with a small satchel to store them in. Being defenseless wasn’t really your style, and you had to prove yourself in some way.

The group discusses the lightning occurrence, and the chatter doesn’t catch your ear as you focus on your surroundings. You’re out in the open, vulnerable on most sides, and someone would get killed if they strayed-

“Relax, you’re tensing up.” Finnick places his hand on your back for a moment before retrieving another small knife from the group.

“I’m just worried,” You say as Finnick offers you the knife, “but thanks-“

He pulls the knife back for a moment with a wicked smile as you dramatically roll your eyes and sigh.

“What do you want me to do, say please?”

“I was going for a kiss, but please will work for me.” He tosses the knife in the air, and you snatch it before he can grab onto it.

“Perhaps you’ll get what you want when there’s less people around,” You tease before you hear the group gathering nearby. “and when there’s less people trying to murder us.”

Wiress sings a childhood lullaby on a rock near the water as Peeta draws a circle on the ground. Finnick moves his hand from your back to his side, but you’re quick grab his hand with yours.

“From twelve to one, there’s lightning, and from one to two, there’s blood,” Peeta divides the circle into even parts as he deciphers the arena, “then fog, then monkeys.”

“Ten to eleven, the wave. What about everything else? Did you guys see anything?”

I think I would remember seeing something bad from this hellhole.

You shake your head as Johanna answers.

“Nothing but blood.”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you stay clear of whichever sectors active, you’ll be safe.” Peeta counters.

“Yeah, relatively speaking-“ Finnick pauses, as do the rest of you, when you hear a soft gasp from the same spot that Wiress was sitting at.

With a knife in her back from Gloss, Wiress was lifeless in his arms. Your survival instincts kick in as you pull a knife to throw, but Katniss beats you to it with an arrow to his chest. The cannon booms twice in a row as your suspicions are proven right: you’re a target, right where the hunters want you.

Your eyes spot a blob of blonde moving in the distance, so you push Johanna towards it as you look for the other two careers. She can handle herself, along with Katniss. You’re worried about Beetee and Peeta because Finnick cannot protect both of them with an attack on all fronts. You let go of his hand as you prepare yourself to fight like hell for yourself, Finnick, and your friends.

A canon booms as Brutus throws something sharp at the four of you. You duck and pull Beetee down with you as the rest avoid the projectile with ease. You immediately get back up as Brutus charges at Finnick while Enobaria approaches from behind. With a knife in hand, you throw it her way to pull her attention from Finnick. The knife scraps her cheek and leaves a small, bleeding cut where it had once touched her skin.

Enobaria looks at you for a moment, a small bit of fear in her eyes, before baring her teeth at you. With a small glance to Brutus and her fallen allies, she runs to take cover along with Brutus. 

Finnick pushes a charging Peeta back as Katniss and Johanna chase after them. You barely have time to think before the center of the Cornucopia starts to spin rapidly. You fall to your knees but are able to grab onto a rock before you fall into the water. Peeta grabs onto one near you, but you can’t tell if any of the others have fallen in to the spinning death trap or if you all are hanging on by a mere thread. 

Your eyes catch the sight of the shiny weapons above you that rattle rapidly with the movement of the Cornucopia. You curse under your breath as they start to fall off, but you’re able to navigate your body around them with little to no issue. Peeta struggles a bit more, but your focus lands on his hands. He won’t be able to hold on much longer since he’s not used to the waves constantly crashing into his body.

The last of the weapons and crates fly past you as the Cornucopia slows down and eventually stills. You crawl up to level ground before taking a deep breath.

That was… an experience.

Peeta quickly gets off the ground as you hear Katniss coughing in the distance. Johanna and Peeta run to aid her as you simple bask in the warm glow of the sun. The water was cold and unfamiliar against your skin - a feeling that you hated with every iota of your body.

You pull yourself up before Finnick and Beetee approach you.

“You okay?” Finnick asks as Beetee tries to wipe off his glasses.

How did he manage to keep those things on?

“I’ll survive.” You shake off his concern with a light smile.

Concern still rests in Finnick’s irises, but he lets the question rest for now.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna convincingly says, and you nod in agreeance.

I knew this wouldn’t be a good idea, and here we are. Another person who is a needless causality.

~

You stare out at the ocean, reflecting on the events that have just occurred. This activity used to bring you comfort, a moment of relief from the ever-chaotic life of a Victor, but waves of sadness crashed against your heart just as the waves of water splashed your feet.

A couple of tears fall from your eyes as you replay the fight at the Cornucopia again and again. If you had been with Wiress, you could’ve saved her. If you had been more aware and less of a romantic idiot, then one less person’s blood would be on your hands. 

You couldn’t listen to the five of them discuss who was alive, and the next plan. Not so soon after Wiress’ death, after someone you cared about was ripped from your life without any hesitation.

You wipe the tears from your eyes as you imagine the Capitol citizens cheering at your display of affection. You had always had a soft heart for the tributes you trained and your fellow victors, so a moment like this was not uncommon.

You remember how you bawled after the first set of tributes from District 4 died under your mentorship and guidance. You had locked yourself in your room, and Mags was the first one to come knocking on the door.

“Mags, I can’t do this!” You cry out from under the sheets.

She gently knocks, twice, against the door.

“They were counting on me…” You mumble under your breath as another wave of tears fell from your eyes.

She stayed out there all night until you came out for breakfast the next day. You had never felt such strong affection from someone until that moment, when she hugged you as she wiped your tears. Mags always knew what to do. 

What would she do now?

She’d smile and stroke your face with a loving look in her eyes before nodding in front of you. With a small hug, she would send you back in to face whatever had been bothering you.

Mags was your favorite mentor because she understood you like no one else would. She knew who you were under the sunshine, and she still accepted you for it. That, however, didn’t stop Finnick from creeping into your heart.

Maybe Finnick wasn’t your favorite mentor, but rather, your favorite person. You’d have to tell him that sometime, if you got the chance.

Unfortunately, your introspective thoughts had to be put aside as someone stood up from behind you.

“Prim!” Katniss screams before running into the forest.

Your eyes widen as you realize what’s pulling her to the forest.

Mockingjays.

~

Mockingjays were your least favorite flying creatures by far. Many other tributes would regard them as an annoyance, but you had watched one tear your District 4 tribute, the one from your first set of Hunger Games, away from you. The birds sung praises of loved ones, and promises of safety and familial love. You knew better, but they didn’t. 

That damned bird was harnessed by the career pack, and they murdered your district partner in cold blood as you watched from the shadows. After they left, you made a small bouquet of flowers and laid it on your ally’s chest. Soon after, you received a parachute from your second sponsor - a set of knives to bring harm to those who had taken your last piece of home away from you.

Here you were, again, watching as your mentor sat silently in the field after being trapped with the mockingjays for an hour. Katniss had Peeta to tell her that everything was okay, but what could you say to Finnick that he didn’t already know? Annie and Mags were safe, for now, and you were here beside him. You were physically here, but your mind kept replaying the image of your fellow tribute bleeding to death on the ground.

The man in front of you started to resemble the kid who was slain in the games, and as soon as a grotesque image of Finnick’s lifeless body entered your mind, you quickly stood up and brushed past a ranting Johanna.

“What are they-“

“Don’t, just don’t.” Johanna quickly defends you from any questioning as you make your way back to the beach, to your safe place.

You sit on the sand, waiting for some answer to rise out of the water. The waves had always calmed your mind, but between Wiress’ death and the Mockingjays, you couldn’t find anything relaxing about the water. Everything felt suffocating, like you were drowning in a tide pool of your thoughts and emotions.

You sit down on the sand and let everything crash over you. There are no more tears, no more sadness… just an empty, horrible feeling at the bottom of your stomach.

“Mind if I join you?” Finnick’s voice floats to your ears, but you can’t find the energy to respond to him.

You’re drained, tired, and ready to go back to District 4, but there was no going back from what was already planned out.

Finnick chooses to take your silence as an answer as he slowly sits next to you. You think about how odd you look, tribute and mentor, side-by-side. You’re not a teenager any more - neither is he - but you feel childish, refusing to talk to him after he went through something as horrible as those Mockingjays.

“I’m sorry.” You bluntly say while cutting out any mental excuses that your brain is making up.

Finnick doesn’t respond, and you don’t have the courage to look at him. You, subconsciously, place your hand to the side in an attempt to ground yourself in the moment. You needed to be here, now, in the moment-

His hand, ever-so-gently, is placed on top of yours.

Everything has felt so fucked-up as of late.

But this? Being close to Finnick - getting all of his touch, his teasing,  his kindness, his everything - it was everything to you.

For the first time since you entered the arena, you felt at home.

~

A familiar tune plays as your group stops to look at those who have been killed today. Familiar faces appear in the sky, both ones you love and hate, but there is no time for any regret to be spared. There is a plan - one that is highly dangerous and highly unlikely to work - but you have no time. The clock ticks in your head, in your heart, in your body, until midnight.

You’ll be dead, a slave to the Capitol, or on your way to an uncertain future.

What great options.

You approach the tree right behind everyone else as Beetee begins to work. You back away and let him do the rest as midnight ticks closer with every waking breath.

~

Beetee hands Katniss the rest of the electrical wire, and instructs you, Katniss, and Johanna on what to do and where to meet. Like any decision made so far, someone has to disagree with the plan that was crafted beyond their awareness.

“I’ll go with them as a guard.” Peeta says, but Beete quickly disagrees.

“No, no, you’re staying here to protect me… and the tree.”

The suspicions quickly clouds around Katniss and Peeta as you exhale deeply.

Why does every decision have to start and end with an argument? 

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta harshly says.

“There are two careers out there, and I need two guards.” Beetee matches Peeta’s intensity as you glance over at Finnick.

Do something, you mouth at him before he turns back towards everyone else.

“Finnick and Johanna can protect you just fine.” Peeta tries to reason with him, and Katniss, as always, jumps in with her own opinion on the matter.

“Yeah, why can’t Finnick and Johanna stay with you while Peeta, Sunny, and I take the coil?”

Your ears perk at the second mention of your name as you turn to look at Katniss, but she’s staring holes into Beetee.

“You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?” Beetee approaches Katniss, who stays silent.

“It’s his plan,” Johanna chimes in, “we all agreed to it.”

“Is there a problem?” Finnick, finally, decides to speak up as you cross your arms.

“Excellent question. Is there a problem?” Beetee matches Katniss’ glare, and you watch her back down.

“No, there’s no problem.”

You would’ve stepped in, but the hostility that Katniss has displayed in the current moments has made you question that action. You’d like to walk out of here with as few arrows in your body as possible.

Peeta and Katniss share a parting kiss as you glance over at Finnick again.

Be careful, he mouths to you as you prepare to take your leave.

I always am, you silently say back before you depart with Katniss and Johanna towards the water.

~

Your mind is in a state of complete disarray as you make your way towards the beach. Katniss makes a point to hand you her bow instead of Johanna, but she’s quick to snatch it back as soon as she can.

I don’t blame her for being on edge. I am too.

Regret is the ugly feeling consuming you - regret for not telling Finnick something in that last moment, the last moment you might ever see him again.

Don’t say that, don’t think that. You will find your way back to home, you always do.

Thoughts of home kept you safe, calm, and sane in your first Hunger Game. Home, then, was your family home with all of your loved ones inside. Home was the beach where you and your school friends would play after lessons were through. Home was the smell of freshly cooked fish in the air that mingled with the sea salt smell of the water. Home was everything that District Four was.

Thinking about home, now, lead you back to the same person again and again. His golden locks that you spent far too long admiring, his sugary smile that melted your heart at the mere mention of it, and his sweet gestures and sly words that had you both toeing the line between fellow mentors and something more.

You wondered if you would get another chance to kiss him, to tell him every emotion that he inspired in you. If you didn’t, wherever you ended up, you would tell them about Finnick: the man he was, is, and always will be.

“C’mon, I want to put as much distance between us and this beach as possible,” Johanna sternly tells Katniss as she brings the wire behind the three of you, “frying is not the way I want to go.”

“There’s something…” Katniss trails off as she tugs on the wire behind her.

A few more tugs from Katniss, and the wire comes free. The knife naturally comes to the front of your hand as Brutus approaches from the distance.

A quick look from Johanna causes you to throw said knife at him. He dodges it before stopping, but the sickening smile on his face sends shivers down your spine. You hear Johanna hit Katniss on the back of the head as you grab another knife. 

So it begins.

You throw another knife at Brutus, and his dodging skills worsen as the knife cuts open part of his uniform and stomach. The cut isn’t too deep, not enough to kill, but it gives enough of a distraction for Johanna to cut the tracker out of Katniss’ arm.

Enobaria appears next to him, and your eyes widen as Johanna tells Katniss to stay down. You ready another knife, but Johanna shoves you to her right.

“Go,” She say before preparing to strike with her axe, “and don’t look back. Haymitch isn’t the only person I made a promise to.”

Finnick-

You nod in solemn agreement before taking off back towards the tree. 

After a minute of running, you hide among the bushes for the moment as you hear footsteps approach.

“Johanna, Sunny, where are you?” Finnick calls out before stopping not too far from you.

Every cell inside you is reaching out to say something, to call out to him, but you can’t.

You tear off a small part of your tribute outfit before preparing to plunge your knife into your left arm.

The tracker has to go out one way or another.

Katniss was ready to go, and with a clean knife cut, yours was out too. The pain was immeasurable, but you quickly stop the bleeding with your makeshift bandaid. You throw the tracker towards the beach as you hear Finnick walk away from Katniss and yourself.

You can hear Katniss struggling to stand, so you quietly approach her while cutting off another part of your shirt. Once you emerge from the bushes, an arrow is pointed at your chest, but Katniss doesn’t put her bow down.

“You have to trust me, just for a while longer.” You toss her the strip of clothing, and she puts her bow down to tie up her arm before heading back to the tree. 

You quietly trail behind her, nerves on edge, as you hold your knife in anticipation for an attacker. Katniss holds the wire in her hand as she looks at the tree curiously.

Sparks by the left side of the tree send Beetee flying as you quickly pass Katniss to check on Beetee.

He’s twitching and non-response, but breathing.

“Beetee-“

You pause as Katniss spots a makeshift spear nearby. Your eyes widen as you look at the tree in front of you - a ticking death machine as far as you were concerned.

You pull Beetee as far away from the tree as you can manage before another cannon fires.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams as her anger flares towards you.

The arrow is lined straight at your heart - if she releases it, you’re dead.

But you don’t fear death, not for a moment. If your death saves her and everyone else, then it would be a worthy sacrifice.

A tear falls, but not of fear or sadness, but pity. Pity for the poor girl in front of you who only knows how to solve violence with more violence.

You could only hope that Peeta was alive out there, and that Brutus or Enobaria were the one dead. 

Rummaging through the nearby bushes causes her to misfire, as the arrow makes it mark into your knee. You crumble to the ground in horrendous pain as you only hope that this all will work out. You wonder if you will be able to walk again - your mentors had warned that injuries to the lower-half of your body would wound you for life if it didn’t cause your death in the arena.

You can only be a spectator as Katniss prepares another arrow, one to fire at the person who’s headed this way.

“Katniss, where are you?” Finnick cries out as Katniss prepares to fire her arrow at her.

You can only writhe in pain and be a spectator as Finnick notices Katniss. Pain constricts your throat, so you can’t tell him that you’re out of the way, that you’re safe, but he’s not.

You can’t watch someone else, someone from your home, die right in front of your. You were a helpless kid then as you watched someone die, but now, you were an adult.

Hell will have frozen over if you don’t do something about it.

You try to move your injured leg after a little pain subsides, but a shooting pain in your knee keeps you from moving your legs anymore than you have to.

“Katniss, remember who the real enemy is.” Finnick warns her as she continues to stay on-guard with her arrow pointed at his chest.

You look over at Beetee as guilt washes over you. You won’t let anyone else you care about die, not even the girl who shot you in the damn knee. With one hand in front of the other, you pull yourself out of the shadows and towards the two of them. Pain shoots through your body, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins counteracts it.

You try to stay as far away from the tree as possible as Katniss decides what to do next. She lowers her bow for a moment as thunder starts to collect around the tree of you. A bush blocks your view for a moment as you continue to crawl, but you hear Finnick warn Katniss to stay away from the tree. The last thing you remember was Finnick charging forward and Katniss releasing an arrow towards the lightning strikes before sparks clouded your vision until it faded completely black.

~

White.

The only color you see around you is white. Your arms are restricted by some sort of holding device behind you. You struggle against them, but your effortless are completely and utterly useless.

“We had a deal, Sunny.” 

Shivers run up your spine as a clean set of black boots approach you. You know that voice, you’ve heard it all over speakers and right in front of you, and you hate its smugness. Its owner, however, is objectively the worst part.

Your eyes glance up to meet his as Snow cruelly smiles at you.

“And here I was, thinking that you would be something so much greater than yourself,” He chides you before pulling something out from behind his back, “what a fool I was.”

“I think, Sunny,” He continues as the weapon in his land comes to life with electric sparks, “that you and I need to become reacquainted with one another. Who, truly, is the real Sunny?”

Your screams aren’t heard from the soundproof rooms, and he doesn’t stop after you feel yourself fade away to nothingness.

~

The gently rocking of a carrier ship disturbs your unpeaceful rest. An oxygen mask helps you calm your breath as you open your eyes. The lights blind your vision, and for a moment, you’re scared that your nightmare was about to come true.

“Well, that went about as well as possible.” Haymitch mumbles before setting Katniss down next to you. Your eyes dart to the other side, where Beetee gently rests next to you.

“She needs time to adjust,” Another man, one that you don’t quite recognize, says before his eyes meet yours, “but they look less violent.”

Haymitch turns to you as he lets out a deep sigh.

“Sorry about your knee, and sorry about the shit job I did wrapping it up. Finnick re-wrapped it, by the way-“

You immediately sit up as Haymitch gently grabs your shoulder.

“Yes, yes, your lover boy is okay, calm down. You’re not going anywhere fast for a long time.” You look at your knee with Haymitch as you see the wound bleeding through the bandaging. It’s carefully wrapped, not too tight, just like Finnick did whenever you got cuts on your hands from the rocks back at home.

“Sunny?” 

You push Haymitch away with the strength of a toddler as Finnick approaches this part of the plane.

“Okay, I got it, you two need some alone time.” Haymitch stands up before heading to the front of the plane. “Plutarch-“

“You did good, protecting the Mockingjay. If you feel like fighting again, we could always use someone like you.” Plutarch says before following Haymitch to the front of the carrier ship.

Finnick quickly passes both of them as the door closes behind him. Once he reaches your side, he pulls the oxygen mask off your face and lightly caresses your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You, in response, raise a hand towards the bruises on his face.

“Your cheek-“ You croak out as Finnick shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. How’s your knee?”

“Hurts.” You mumble softly.

His eyes never leave yours, and the adoration in his eyes melts your core. You two stay in a comfortable silence as you place your hand on his chest.

“I won’t let anything else hurt you, I promise. We’ll be safe in District 13, I-“

You cut him off with a sweet kiss to the lips.

“I love you,” You lovingly whisper after your lips leave his, “now and forever.”

“Even with everything we’ve been through?” He quietly says as you reassure him.

“Especially considering everything we’ve been through.”

This time, his lips meet yours as you melt into Finnick’s chest, and, for now, this feels enough like home.

~

tagging -> @yokolesbianism , @avoxrising (send an ask or reply to be added for any future updates!)

#fanfic #x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fluff #the hunger games x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair

[constesplanetarium]

✩╔═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╗✩

Scales Scraping against Wood.

☾⚠︎ Stalker Naga x GN! Researcher-ish Reader

✩╚═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╝✩

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

a/n: something small, more in notes at the bottom. this is my first oc fic not made for tumblr, but instead, one i made on my own time :)

Darkness: 2/10: "The smallest mention ever."

TW!!! Light Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, stalking, collecting your fallen things as a collection.).

Word count: around 800

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Dark brown eyes look your way as the leaves and twigs crunch under you with every step. Shame you haven’t noticed him yet, up there in the trees, his pale white hands grasping onto the branches as he hopes, for just a little, that you’ll look his way. His tail flicks back and forth happily as he sees that adorable smile on your face that he loves so dear.

Humans never venture into this part of the forest, that he knows, so it’s intriguing to find you here, observing the wildlife without a care. Whether it be nagas like himself, or orcs, or even werewolves, you’ve seen it. Even more, this isn’t your first time. You don't even know about the poisonous, and perhaps carnivorous flowers that lie deep down here, do you? How silly.

Why do the other species get your attention, but not him? Why not?

Maybe one day you’ll observe him from afar, just like he’s watching you now.

White strands of hair fall off his shoulders as he stares at you dreamily, claws scraping at the darkened bark as his white tail, speckled with dark orange and brown, curls around the branch in content as you pick and peer at the daffodils, writing down some things in your small journal, than plucking some up and setting them into your basket.

What he would do for just a peek into your head…

Just a small one. It’s all he needs.

Having lived for so long, humans come and go everyday that passes, as he’s witnessed first hand, but why’re you still here? Why do you keep coming back after all of these days? What’s the purpose? To just gaze at the flowers? It must be more than that, surely.

Medicinal purposes, maybe? Or just for the sake of it?

He jolts up, breaking out of his daydream-like state to see you wandering off again, humming that familiar tune he’s heard from you before.

A wince forms and twitches on his face as he watches you go farther, and farther away from him, claws digging into the branch with frustration. You might hear him if he moves from branch to branch, so maybe moving on the ground is a bit better…

His eyes stay put on you for just a bit longer, watching you bend down to pluck up more flowers and herbs, and you set them down into the basket.

Finally, after some time, he sprawls out his body slowly against the trunk of the tree, claws digging into the bark as he starts to slither down.

The branch feels weak around his tail. Ah, wait, the branch-!

The branch snaps loudly as it falls to the ground with a thud, and you look around as your eyes dart to it, shakily grasping your journal harder as you fidget with the basket in your other hand, rising up onto your feet to make a run for it.

“Wait.” He tries to murmur, reaching a hand out to you, but before he can even get a syllable out, you’re already running away in fear, slipping onto some mud, in which the basket tosses itself out of your grasp. You wince, yet swiftly get up and run off, leaving the basket in fear of your life.

… How pitiful. How unlucky.

Or maybe not unlucky?

It looks like you left a small gift for him.

Slithering down the tree, he gazes dreamily at the fallen flowers on the ground, covered in dirt and mud with the basket beside it all. With a small look around to make sure no one's nearby, he scoops up the flowers and tosses them back into the basket, snatching the handle up. If only you had dropped your journal too…

Well, it doesn’t matter.

Wiping the filth and muck off the petals of each flower with a finger, and flicking it onto the ground, he holds a daffodil up to the sun, small bits of sunshine raying through the petals. He twists it around as the petals become semi-transparent due to the light. How pretty.

Oh, he got so lucky today, to finally have a small piece of you, after watching you for all these days and nights.

Hopefully, you do come back to the forest sometime soon. Did he scare you too much? Ah, what a terrible thing to think about! No way! No way, no way, no way! You’ll come back, won’t you?

Right?

Right? You will, right? Won’t you? He could even give you a small bunch of flowers from deeper inside the forest, so much deeper that no human in their right mind would go there! No one else would ever do that for you, so it makes him special. So, so, very special. And you're so special to him too, even from afar.

Without even noticing it, the flower he was holding has been crushed and ripped beyond repair, his twitching hands wrapped tightly around the basket as he fights back the urge to chase you, never stopping until he finally gets the chance to wrap his arms around you.

Please, do come back.

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

heyy, im back again, sorry for leaving :( i'm trying to get back into the swing of things, but it might take me some time.

it wasn’t burnout, i just had a really big disinterest in writing ever since thanksgiving, and i think its mainly bc of lack of ideas, but also restricting myself to that yandere label, so i think ima branch out a bit from here on out :)

still expect yandere’s though!!!

also i’ve been watching jujutsu kaisen recently, but lets not talk abt that…

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #x gn reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere drabble #stalker #snake man #naga #dead dove do not eat #light yandere

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓢𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ- ᴄɪɴɴᴀᴍᴏɴ ɢɪʀʟ

Tw: Teenage love, mentions of passed bullying, weapon mentioned (spear), mamas just want what’s best for their kids, Tonowari being a loving father, Titanic reference, confession, kissing. 

Author’s note: I thought of spicing things up a bit, they will be more conflict later but not too hard because I am rooting for Neteyam and Y/n. Also comment some ideas for the next part, idk how long this series will turn out, but I'd like to see what you guys want to see next. I hope I’m not moving too fast, I just really love where this is going. I also forgot to add the masterlist on the other fics, I’ll be sure to add the link.

P.s. I apologies for late tagging people on my taglist, its my first time doing a taglist and I go back to my other posts and check the comments to see if anyone else would want to be tag. Also for some reason some of the people I tag won’t pop up, sorry :(

Masterlist

Neytiri knew something, she knew that her eldest son had began to catch feelings for someone. The thing is she had no idea who her son was falling head over heels for. She wanted to know who it was and find out fast because the curiosity would consume her, if he ended up lying to her, she would not be happy than she already isn’t. Neytiri was still mad that she had to leave her home, it still irked her that her family will now have to live differently then what they were used to in the forest. 

She wanted to keep a close eye on him but she would be invading his privacy, her mate was already hard on their kids, she didn’t want to be that kind of mother, but if it was for the sake of her children, so be it. Neytiri will give Neteyam some space, allowing him to tell her when he is ready.

Even after that talk with her mate, Ronal was still worried, she feared that her child may be taken away from her from an unworthy mate. She wanted her child to be happy but with the right person. It was hard enough that y/n could not mate before eywa light rest of the people due to her being different. Ronal did not like to call her child a human, humans were demons that destroy beautiful things for their own benefit.

Y/n was strong, yes she may not be a na’vi but she is a strong girl who deserves to be a Tsahik in the future, but she knew that the responsibility will lay on Tsireya due to being the oldest. She hopes in finding out who this person was sooner rather than later, before it is to late. Every time Ronal looks at Y/n, she sees her as a baby she once held for the first time, her small body covered in red, her baby. Ronal would do anything in her power to keep her baby happy.

You had finished getting ready for the day, instead of going for swim, you decided to go practice with your spear. You wore a top that was made of rope, seaweed and some pearls that hanged. For the bottom you wore a small skirt around your hips made out of light and dark net, you tide a cloth under you to cover your intimate parts. You tied your hair up to keep it out of the way, when you were using your weapon. 

When done you left to the beach, the day had been going smoothly. Some kinds were running around playing in the water, the fishermen had come back from the ocean with fish, everything was normal. You stopped in a small spot that was bit farther away from the beach, it was like a training ground of yours and your father’s. You both would come here to practice on how you could use a spear. On your thirteenth birthday he gifted you the spear he made for you. You loved it very much, you didn’t allow anyone to touch, the people who could touch it was Tsireya, your mother and father. You didn’t trust your brother with your spear, he’d probably break it or something. 

You were throwing your spear as hard as you could, you wanted to go farther than you already were. Your father has taught you how to use a spear from a young age, due to it you had got some muscle, you wish you were more muscular like him. Also not to mention what you can do with a blade, when your mother found out that your father gave you a blade at a small age, she nearly popped a blood vessel. Ronal was very protective of you, she feared that anything could harm you due to not being a na’vi. Tonowari had a talk with her about you learning how to fight and such, he knew that one day they will not always be their to protect you, he wanted you to be a warrior and to fend for yourself when they were no longer around.

After what felt like a while, you managed to throw the spear farther away hitting a palm tree near by. You began jumping of joy, you finally manage to do it. “Good shot” you stopped to turn, seeing the oldest forest boy. You felt your face feel a bit warm. “Oh, thank you, I didn’t know you were here” you said as you walked over to the palm tree to get your spear. Neteyam walked closer, just incase you need help with pulling out your spear.

You got a good grip on your spear and pulled hard enough, taking the spear out the palm tree. Neteyam watched as his mouth dropped, you were strong, of course you were, you’re the daughter of the Olo'eyktan. You smiled at him seeing his face. “What?” you giggled which made him change his face real quick. “Oh! Nothing, you’re just... really strong” he said shyly looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. You smiled at him “well, you can thank my father for that” you said walking back to your spot having him follow. “Would you like to try?” you asked making him nod, no questions asked.

You had been showing Neteyam how hold the spear properly, you didn’t mind having to position his arms the right way, you loved being close to him. Neteyam was trying to do what he was told but he was distracted by you, how close you were. When you’d instruct him how to properly hold it and positioned him, he felt butterflies in his stomach, he also couldn’t help but look at you, you were just so beautiful. “You ready?” You asked as he then snapped out of his trance and nodded. “Okay, now throw it as fast as you can” he did as he was told. The spear landed on the sand, a couple feet away from the palm tree. 

“Nice shot, soon you’ll be able to master a spear, you’ll be a...pro?” you said a bit confused, trying to use the word he used the other day. Neteyam chuckled seeing that were tying to use the word. “I’m not as good as you” he mentioned making you smile at up at him. You got a good look at his features again, you loved seeing him, you wouldn’t mind staring into his eyes for the rest of your life.

You then walked over to were your spear was breaking the trance you had on him. “Have you gone to your lessons today?” you asked retrieving your spear. Neteyam shook his head “no, not yet, shall we go?” he asked as you nodded, walking over back to him and leaving together to where the rest of the teens were.

As you both walked towards the small group, you heard a deep voice call out to you. “Y/n” you turned to see who it was, it was your father. “Coming!” You shouted back, turning to look at Neteyam “you go, I’ll catch up.” You said towards the tall na’vi in which he nodded and left towards the group, you walked over to your father, spear in hand “yes father?” you said looking up at the gentle giant. “Come, lets go for a ride, we haven’t gone in a while” you nodded, following him.

You both approached to his skimswim, Tonowari got on first then he helped you hop on, you sat in front of him holding tightly onto your spear and held onto the handle of the saddle. Then you both took off, the ride was silent but you like having a moment like this with your father. He’s a scary looking giant but he was gentle at the same time, you’d referred to him as a gentle giant a couple times since you were smaller. The skimswim dived underwater, taking you both down with it. It made you smile, since that the creature felt playful today. Your father looked down at you smile, making his chest warm up seeing his child happy. 

It reminded him when you were a child, the first time you were scared of the creature but you warmed up to it. Since then your father would take you on rides with his creature. When you went back up to the surface for a breath, you laughed “that was fun” you said petting the skimswim, making the creature wag its tale for being praised. Tonowari then asked “so, tell me, what are your thoughts on the Sullys?” he asked as you looked up at him. “They seem very nice, well, Neytiri is a bit scary like mother... don’t tell here I said that!” you playful warned your father making laughing at you. “I won’t” he said. “But, Neteyam, he is really nice to me, well all the sully kids are nice to me including Jake, but he is the sweetest.” 

You said feeling your face heat up, your father noticed this, he knew that look very well. He had that same look when he began to catch feelings for his now Mate Ronal. He hummed then talked “y/n? If that boy makes you happy, don’t let him go” he said catching you off guard. “Hm? what do you mean?” you asked a bit confused. “I know that look, you have the same look when someone is interested in another, I was young once too.”  Now you understood, he was referring to your feelings towards Neteyam. 

“You approve of him?” You asked curiously, he smiled down at you “just a bit, he still has to prove himself though, so far he is doing a great job” he said, this made you happy, seeing that your father seems to be approving of Neteyam. “Thank you father” you said smiling at him, he pulled you into a hug, in which you hugged him back gladly.

Neteyam was wondering where you were, the lesson was over, he was worried that you had got into trouble. Then he saw you with your father on his Skimswim approaching, he saw that you father told you something before you got off and swam towards the group, then he saw your father take off. “We were wondering where you were” your brother said as you finally reached them. “I was with father that’s all” you said. 

“Well, the lesson of today is over, so everyone is just going to do whatever” Lo’kak chimed in, giving his brother a look, making Neteyam glare at him. “That’s alright, you guys have a great teacher” you said refuring to your sister. “What about me Y/n?” Ao’nung asked giving you a look, in which you pretended to think for a moment “you’re alright” you said making the group laugh, in which your brother let out a dramatic gasp. “My own sister thinks I am alright? How outrages” he said chuckling.

Everyone swam back to shore, going their separate ways. Only leaving you and Neteyam, it was silent until you spoke “so, do you want to do anything?” You asked looking up at him. You noticed how he had a little smile on his lips “I mean, I did promise you a ride on my banshee” you got excited now “shall we do that?!” You asked, and he responded “if that’s what you want, then yes, lets do it” he said as he took your hand, now taking you were his banshee was.

When you got to where is beast was, you were nervous, you had never seen such a beast. “Don’t look at him in the eyes” Neteyam warmed you, in which you looked away from the beasts face, not looking at its wings. They reminded you of a skimswim but instead of being in the water, they were from the sky. Neteyam got close to his beast, petting him and calming him down. “Want to pet him?” he asked as you nodded, walking closer towards him, he took your small hand and placed it on the beasts head. You softly pet him, feeling him purr under your touch. “Wow” you said fascinated by the beast. “Cool right?” Neteyam asked as you nodded while still petting the beast.

Neteyam got on his banshee and latched into him using his queue, then he turned to you and helped you up onto the banshee. He placed you in front of him and guided your hands to hold into the settle. “Ready?” he asked as you turned to look up at him “I was born ready” you said, Neteyam then gave the cue to his banshee, then the beast took off onto the sky.

You held tightly onto the handle and closed your eyes, afraid that you may end up falling. Neteyam took a note of this, then he wrapped his free arm around your waist and help you tightly close to him. You felt your face heat up at the feeling of his arm. After a couple minutes, you opened your eyes and looked around. Seeing how high you are in the sky, you felt fascinated seeing how close you were towards the clouds and near the blue sky. 

When you looked down, you saw how small the village looked smaller, the air felt good going through your hair, it felt as good as when you go swimming. You slowly let go of the handle then stock your arms out on both sides, wanting to feel more of the wind. Neteyam was confused at first but he saw how relaxed you were, he still held onto your waist keeping you safe while his other one held onto the banshee. 

You didn’t even notice the time, it was going to be dark soon, the sun was setting. You had landed on a small mountain near the village, seeing the sun set. It was beautiful, even better with the person you were with. “I had fun today” you said looking at Neteyam who had a smile on his face. “I am glad” he said looking down at your small face, he just loved looking at you, he could just stare at you all day, forever if he could. He had a feeling that he needed to say, if he didn’t say it he’ll probably regret it later. 

“Y/n, I have been meaning to tell you something” Neteyam said shyly, now your face turned into one of curiosity. “What is Neteyam?” you asked as you felt his lard hands taking yours into his. “For the last few days, I’ve been having feelings, feelings I’ve never felt before, ever.” He took a deep breath, he felt like a fish out of water now, getting nervous. “Whenever I look at you, I feel like, I am at home” he said, his words made your face feel hot. “I see you y/n” he finally said it, he felt the weight on his shoulders fade, but he felt like his stomach drop, fearing rejection by the one who he wishes is his mate. 

Your face felt even more heated, he saw you, Neteyam Sully saw you like you saw him. Still a bit in shock at his confession, you broke into a smile. Squeezing his hand lightly and spoke back to him. “And I see you Neteyam, the moment I first set my eyes on you, I see you” you said seeing his face turn into one of relief. “May I...kiss you?” He asked shyly looking down at your small hands. You smiled at his shyness, softly lifting his head “Of course, Ma Neteyam” You said softly locking eyes with his.

Neteyam leaned down, placing both his large hands on your small face. You came closer towards him, closing your eyes, feelings his warm lips touching your cold ones. This felt nice, this felt right, you placed your smaller hands on his large ones that held your face. You stayed like that for a bit before slowly pulling away from him and looked into his sun colored eyes. Then he whispered only for you to hear. 

“Ma Y/n”

Taglist: @byunpum, @moony-artemis, @aonungs-tsahik, @rennyramen, @somewereinthegalaxi, @em-asian, @fanboyluvr, @mashiromochi, @eternallyvenus, @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @ssophiebirkas​, @fanficblogs,  

#avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #atwow #atwow x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x mate reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #human reader #Female reader #fem reader #Fish Girl series #aphrodite's writing

[alien-magnolia]

Lost: Part 2

Lost: pt 2

Fic description: After spending a night with Jake, the two of you get to know each other better over the course of a few months. One special night, he takes you out flying, and you and Jake become a mated pair. 

Tw: nsfw minors dni. shy + subby omaticaya fem! reader, (mentions of human!reader at first) dom! Jake sully, exhibitionism, breeding kink, choking, overstimulation, mating, size kink! Rough sex, etc. Don’t like, don’t read.

A/n: this is a long one. Around 4K words. Bit of romance/fluff combined with heavy sexual undertones. Heavy smut towards the end. I am going to make this into a series. If you like this post, pls help a writer out and reblog💙

You woke up to the shining sun through the trailer. Jake was still there, still asleep. It took you lots of effort to lift his arms off you, you were surprised he kept you in his arms the whole night. He wakes up with a moan. “Hey, you sleep okay?,” he asks, as he stands up to cup your face into his hand. He picks you up without warning (you did not mind), so you’re right in his arms. He places you on the counter top, so you are at eye level with him. You giggle, sheepishly. “Yes. Never better.” 

“Okay. See you tonight.” He cups your face again, Hines you a wink, and jumps out the window, sprinting away. How could he like you? You were complete opposites, he was just so strong, tall, so big. His size drove you insane most of the time. Maybe you could be his sweeter, smaller half. You went out with him that night, and for many nights, it was you and him, together. He showed you many sights of the Pandoran forest, he taught you a bit of hunting, and he taught you most Omaticayan customs.  After a few months, you began to fall for him, and you felt that this night might be more special than most.

One month later, the forest, around midnight:

One month later, the forest, around midnight:

You wait for him inside. Your human body was tucked away, fast asleep, you were here as an avatar now. You were only seven feet tall, compared to the common Na’vi, who reached a height of eight to ten feet tall. You put some flowers in your hair, and fumbled with the rings on your fingers. 

You hear a knock. Jake is standing there, he is wearing some beaded bands around his arm, a beaded necklace too, perfectly fitted around his veiny neck. His serious face lights up for just a bit when he sees you. He comes closer to you, you crane your neck up to look at him. 

“Hi,” he says, in a hushed tone. “Hi,” you reply to him. His eyes rake you up and down, he steps towards you. Even your Na’vi body felt so small under him. “Come here,” he motions to you. His big hands bring you into him, close to his warm body, as he gives you a long kiss, cupping your face. The man looked at you as if you were a goddess, he was in awe. After a few kisses, he takes your hand and leads you out the door. He had a few weapons with him too. “Just in case, pretty dangerous out here for you,” he teases with a cocky smile. You blush and give him a little slap on the wrist. Although he has taught you how to navigate the forest, he still would protect you, given any chance he would get.

His hand in yours, he leads you out into the forest, you scramble to keep up with his big steps, but he does slow down for your sake. There were some monkey-like creatures swinging over the two of you, but he shooed them off. He found it real cute when you’d cling closer to him, when you heard a loud noise or got scared by something. 

You stop for a second because you wanted to collect samples. “Not here. Come on, I got a better place in mind, but you gotta trust me, okay sweetheart?,” he asks you. You nod, smiling. You cling onto him as he helps you cross this big log, and you see the beautiful night sky over the cliff. 

He whistled, and suddenly, the great leonopteryx swoops down and lands right near him. Jake pats the creature on the head, chuckling at your  awe. “You are Toruk Makto,” you trail off.

“That’s right. What did ya expect?,” he smirks back at you cockily. 

You were shocked. Not only did you get the attention of a Na’vi warrior, but the most powerful, and it was Jake. Of course it was. With a body like his, you wouldn’t doubt it a second more. “Don’t be scared, he’s all mine. Come, fly with me. I want to show you something, baby,” he says, as he extends a hand to you. You hesitantly take it, and Jake connects his queue (the nerves at  the end of his braid) to the creature to make tsaheylu, the bond. He lifts you up to put you on the creature, and sits in front of you. He screams for the creature to take off. It awakens something primal within you. 

You have flown on an ikran before, but  certainly not the giant one. You weren’t much of a thrill seeker like he was, but you liked it all the same. You knew the ways of the Na’vi people, how the Omaticaya lived in their village. He has taught you, introduced you to his world. Ikran was a hunter’s animal, powerful, fierce, just like your Jake. 

You passed through the beautiful night sky, you saw the forest down below. You stay pressed to his back tightly as he expertly flies and lands the ikran on a cliff, he helps you down with a swift grab of your hips. “Stay,” he firmly tells the large creature. He was so dominant, even if it wasn’t sexual. You loved it. 

You sat down to talk with him. He told you about his past as a human too, as a marine. He told you how he came to be an avatar at first, and now a permanent Na’vi. He told you the story of the war, how he became Toruk Makto, the protector of the Omaticaya. You tell him about yourself too, your shy nature and why you worked by yourself, secluded in the woods. You tell him about your human past as well. 

You and him were complete opposites, but that drew the both of you to each other even more. You wanted him, he wanted you too. You stayed at the cliff for the rest of the night, until twilight — just before dawn. 

“So.  Are you mated?,” you ask shyly, hoping that he would say no. You hide your face again, blushing. You expect him to be mated already, there are plenty of Omaticaya women who would throw themselves at the Toruk Makto. He told you that he didn’t have a mate, but he was looking for one, and that apparently, he already found one. 

“You found one?,” you asked, with a heavy heart. A tiny part of you longed for him as your mate. “Yeah. Honey. Think it’s you,” he chuckles, and smirks a bit, tilting his head to the side. “Me?,” you ask, in shock. “Yeah, you. So fuckin’ cute you are. I want to show you this special place. C’mon.” 

He looked a bit worried that you’d refuse, but you simply smiled and took his hand again, loving the look of relief that brushed across his face. He lifted you onto the giant ikran, and the two of you set off again. He lands the bird in front of the Tree of Souls. 

Helping you get off again, he leads you closer to the shimmering, bioluminescent cords and plants. You were in awe… 

“Jake. I’ve always wanted to see this place. It’s so beautiful.” He chuckles, and agrees: “Look. You can hear the ancestors from this. All you have to do is put your queue onto the tree,” he explains, as he steps closer to you, pulling you down to sit on his lap. You do as he says, you connect with the tree, with Eywa. It is beautiful. 

“Be my mate, baby. Be mine. I’d love nothing more,” he whispers to you, you stare into his adorable yellow eyes. “Eywa will guide us,” he asserts, and you nod excitedly. 

You were ecstatic. He brings you in, closer, gently running his hands over your face. He takes his braid, you take yours, the two of you connect, you make tsaheylu. You felt his breath, his heart, his mind. He felt yours. 

It felt so good to feel all of him, you were lost in his big, warm, chest. He smiled at you again as you kissed, his hands starting to have an iron-tight grip on your waist. “Was holding back before, baby. Didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you. You didn’t want him to hold back anymore. “It’s okay, Jake. I trust you,” you gently whisper to him. 

This time he pushes you up against him, rougher, your whole body just jolted from the way he was manhandling you. His kisses were addictive, you trail your hands down his toned abdomen. Both your tails were just twitching, he was groping at you with his full strength, it hurt. 

You feel him push the cloth on his lap to the side, and without warning, he starts pushing his length into you. You could finally see it better, it was thick, the same color as his skin, with a few stripes and a large vein running down the right side. His tip was dark blue, and so soft as he pushed into you. You wanted to taste him, to feel him. Even in your taller form, it was hard to take him. His throbbing cock put so much pressure onto you. His hands harshly pinch and grope at your hips, your breasts.

He pushes into you roughly, all in one go. You let out a desperate moan, clawing at his large back for more. He chuckles. “Gonna be all fucked out on my cock, baby.” You can only nod. He starts bouncing you on him, going deeper and rougher with each thrust. You feel his groans come from his chest, which was pressed against yours, as both of you just kept looking into each other's eyes. His cock just hits that sweet spot in you, you feel so full with him, you feel his soft balls press up against your throbbing mound. “C’mon baby. Take me deeper, c’mon. Do it for me,” he grunts at you. 

He uses the leverage on your hips to shove you down into the ground, now he towers over you, his cock now able to reach into you all the way. You feel one of his giant hands find it’s place on your throat.  He has that determined look on his face. “Stay still for me.” You nod. “Good girl,” he grunts, and starts thrusting into you, his large biceps keeping him on top of you. You’re just delirious, cock-drunk, hell bent on having him rearrange your insides. You feel a bulge in your stomach, he puts his hand there, it’s still as big as half your abdomen. Even as a Na’vi, your size couldn’t match his.

“Feel that, sweetie. Feel my cock inside you, going all the way in. Gonna pump you so full of my cum, it’ll be spilling out of you the next day,” he growls, and you can only moan back in response, your glazed over eyes still on his. 

You never, in your entire life, thought that you’d be here, under this beautiful tree, getting a fifteen inch alien cock rammed into you. Again, and again…

“You close, baby? You are, can feel that tight cunt just fuckin’ milkin me. Go on, girl. Cum for me,” he grunts, as his thrusts get sloppier. His brow is furrowed, it is dark, but you see the spots on his skin glow, his face stern, focused on pleasing his mate, claiming you as his. “J-Jake,…” you stutter timidly. 

You felt so much, you felt everything. That white hot shock of pleasure was running through your veins, you felt high, you felt your heartbeat sync with his, so very fast. You felt his pleasure, you felt his emotions, you felt him inside you. His warm seed spills into you. He starts to slowly pull out. You grab his arm. 

“Want you to stay in, Jake. Please,” you beg him. He chuckles, and lays down on you, pressing your body to the ground with his enormous weight. “I’ll stay, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, yeah?” You agree, your heart sings. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, as he nips kisses over your face. You feel his sharp fangs, making you let out a breathy moan. He was your predator, you were his prey. But you were both united now, as one.  “I see you,” he whispers to you, with a small smile. “I see you, too.”

He flips you over on your side, you lay your head down on his heaving chest. You feel his muscles wrap around you, holding you tightly, secure. “You’re with me now, baby,” he hums. “Always and forever,” you whisper back. 

Your braids stay connected, and the two of you dreamt together, now, as mates, under the Tree of Souls.

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