#Through the Eternal Woodland

[yandereunsolved]

𐂂 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Yandere ??? — Wendigo 𐂂 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𓄃 From the depths of the forest, it appeared. They told you not to walk alone at night, and you did. It'd eat you; it'd kill you. The Wendigo. The cannibalistic, once-human creature that stalked your local woodlands during the winter. No one would dare forage or play in the icy white droplets near the woodlands. Too many human carcasses had turned up for people to think of it as a simple legend.

You thought yourself safe. It's fall; the creature is only ever seen in the winter. It once looked more human, you were told, but it took on the appearance of a crytpid deer creature. It towered over you at fifteen feet tall. Glowing yellow eyes shining through its deer skull pierce through your soul. 

Its elongated claws almost caringly scratched against your neck. Its lips are nonexistent on its deer skull, but its tongue lulls out, the length of your arm. It's coated in dried blood and forked at the tip. It crouches so it's on its haunches, its head tilting towards you as its antlers rub against your stomach.

You're frozen, petrified by the horrifying monster that stunk of rotted flesh and wet dog.

𓄃 It let you go that night after what felt like an eternity. It ended up sitting near you, pawing at you like a lost animal. It would tilt its head to the side every once in a while. Although it never spoke, it simply met your eyes, its gaze unceasing. 

You refused to walk within five hundred feet of the forest after that. You'd see it's yellow eyes watching you whenever you walked near the woods. It was any woods, any.

One night, it dragged you back into the forest and sat next to you. It made cooing sounds and cuddled up to you. Its gut-wrenching fetor seemingly tamer. It now smelled faintly of mint and spring blossoms.

𓄃 It became routine for you to visit it. It'd bring you dead animals and pieces of human flesh. Its claws would tear the flesh up and try to place it in your mouth. It'd open its skull and flick its tongue out to show you. Every time you refused, it seemed dejected and would angrily huff.

It made it clear that it wanted you to become a wendigo.

If you willingly ate human flesh, the thought made you shudder.

It even gifted you deer skulls, as well as other animal skulls. It'd place them near your head, as if appraising each one for a transformation you refuse to allow to happen.

𓄃 It'd curiously observe whatever you did. It'd point to your human technology and growl softly. It'd roar in an unpleased manner whenever your human interests took you away from it. 

However, it loved your sketchbook and the sticky things you called stickers. It'd purr when you decorated its skull with whatever stickers you had. It tried to eat them, and you did your best to explain not to. It still did. By the end of your nights together, it was adorned with many silly stickers all over its skull and antlers. It was elated, from what you could tell. It'd lick you happily.

It is even more excitable when you draw it. It doesn't matter if you have the artistic skills of Picasso or a toddler who can't color within the lines. It loves all of your renditions of it. It hangs them up in its cave and coats them in energy so they don't wrinkle or lose their vibrancy.

𓄃 It can smell your hormones and tell when you are most fertile. It becomes increasingly aggressive towards other people, even dragging those you interact with during the day to be its midnight snack. Its possessiveness becomes nearly unbearable. It will scream in the woods when the sun is still out. It demands you come to see it. People begin to connect the dots and practically force you to see it just so it doesn't harm anymore people where you live.

It touches you like you are made out of brittle bone. It caresses your chest down to your navel. It asks if it can help you when your hormones are high. It does this by palming at your clothes and purring out a high-pitched and barely discernible "yes... no...? help you...?"

If you allow it to help you, then you won't be leaving its nest within its cave until your hormone cycle switches to its next stage. It will bring you everything you need and keep you tucked into its figure. Its fur keeps you warmer than any blanket could. It's like sleeping in some place heavenly.

Its scent changes during this time. It smells like cranberries and pineapple, which only gets stronger the longer you are near it.

𓄃 No spiritual practitioner could help you get rid of it. Priest? They end up dead. Psychic? Dead. Reiki Master? Dead. Only a shaman managed to ward it from you for a handful of weeks.

It comes back even more violent and drags you into its cave. It refuses to let you go. It foams at the mouth and bares its deer teeth when you try to leave it. It can't let you go. It won't ever let you go. It needs to keep you with it until you turn into a Wendigo. Then you'll be its mate forever.

𓄃 This was all because you helped it once in its deer form. You accidentally hit it and then brought it to an animal hospital. Never had a mortal treat it with such kindness and softness. It became attached to you, and then decided to take the next step that fateful day. 

You're perfect for it—such a pure soul for its twisted being to corrupt.

[dumbsoftheart]

threads of fate

pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x preachers daughter!reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering, kissing, swearing, sliiight voyerism, corruption and innocence kink,

summary: after a chase in the woods, coriolanus becomes devoted to making you his one and only follower.

notes: i don't know what came over me.. enjoy!

word count: 7.2k

౨ׅৎ

the blood of the lamb, washed over the sins of those strayed away from god, atones those begging to be spared from destruction. the saccharine ichor was the ultimate gateway towards deliverance- and thus sought out by sinners and saints alike to be granted eternal redemption for the transgressions that permeated the sweats and tears of the individuals whose secrets would have them damned to the dreadful inferno beneath their feet. the sweet lamb; symbol of innocence and purity, and the wolf who hunted it, the face of deception and treachery, stood now in the heart of the woodlands, the sweet kill hidden shamefully in the asylum of the crowded aspen as it’s predator tauntingly whistled in pursuit of it’s coveted prize. 

tears fell in a waterfall down into the vessels of your collarbones, trailing down and staining the frail white fabric of your dress, unveiling the soft tanned skin of your chest in its wake. with one hand clasped tightly against your mouth, you tried to conceal your wails of fear and the threatening thumping of your heart so as not to draw attention to the towering figure looming dangerously close to you, chuckling lowly as he carefully made his way through the maze of trees and forestry. your other hand was clutched desperately on the golden cross that hung around your neck, thumb haphazardly caressing the delicate engravings and etchings of the cool metal. 

hail mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.

shame washed over you as you thought of your mother and father- your dear father, and what they would make of your inevitable disappearance. you were taught the way of the lord since you emerged from your mothers womb; it followed you everywhere you went. by all means, you had lived your life for god himself. what would he think of you now? the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of god. and yet there you were, a thief, running from, no doubt, god’s punishment for your sins. 

despite your fathers widespread fame throughout the district, your family struggled to bring food and water to the table regularly. seeing the despair that clouded your mothers eyes as she failed to provide a dinner some nights for her family had driven you towards madness. you grew desperate- desperate to alleviate the stress that haunted her and satiate the hunger that settled in your stomach for the fifth day in a row. you rationalised, that with your undying devotion, god would find it in him to forgive you. with all the work your father put into his sermons and dedication to delivering god's word to the poverty stricken peoples of district 12, the divine being would be forgiving in his punishment in recognition of the loyalty you harboured. 

now, you knew you were wrong. 

you berate yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea of pilfering from the small bakery near the marketplace. in truth, it wasn’t even stealing. you had waited until dark threatened the sky, then snuck behind the establishment to snatch a few meagre, stale loaves that had been carelessly discarded in a small bin beside the refuse receptacles. combined with the butter you had been gifted earlier in the week, these provisions would barely suffice to stifle the persistent pangs in your stomach for a few days, at most. you naively assumed you were in solitude and hastily fled when you’d filled up your small leather bag with as many old rolls and loaves as possible. 

oh, how wrong could you have been? you never caught sight of the face of the man who now charged after you- only a faint glance at a familiar blue that weaved its way through the trees- but the adrenaline rushing through your veins urged you to run, and to never stop. and now, here you were, caught in the act, pathetically weeping as you waited for the repercussions of your actions to find you. 

you moved to press your back harder against the thin trunk of the tree, a twig snapping under the weight of your foot, and your eyes widened with fear as the sound reverberated against the still of the forest, the soft footsteps that trailed behind you coming to an abrupt stop. then, a voice. 

“my dear, it would make it so much easier for us if you just came out. i promise you, i don’t bite.” it purred. the way he spoke was low and unrecognisable, laced with an amusement that had you shiver with the depravity of it. your crying ceased at an attempt to remain as hidden as possible, nary a whimper escaping from behind the painful grip of your hand across your mouth. 

“i know you know what you did was wrong. i mean, stealing from a bakery? i wonder what your father would think of you now, his daughter a thief.”

you fought back tears at the mention of your father, shame once again weighing at your conscience, “come out, and i promise your punishment won't be as harsh as it should be.”

the proposition had you thinking for a bit, the truth behind the words appealing to you for a sliver of a moment. before you could consider your next step; find an out or comply to the omnipresent man’s offering, a gunshot pierces your ears, and you let out a shriek so loud you swore all of panem could hear you.

you begin to wail again then, uncontrollably, screaming and begging for respite as your body gave in under the weight of itself; your knees buckling and falling harshly against the ground. you shake with the ferocity of a small rodent before you’re pulled up by your shoulders and engulfed into a familiar, warm hug. your eyes wide with panic, you thrash your head back in forth in an attempt to find the man who was tormenting you, only to see that he was now gone, and in his place, a small search party lead by a peacekeeper cheered in glory at the sight of you. relief washed over you as you looked up to find your father, falling into the safety of his arms as he escorted you out of the forest, giving a curt thank you to the peacekeeper and another man you recognized to be one of your fathers students, before dragging you to the comfort of your home. 

౨ׅৎ

when your father found out the reason behind your being in the woods, you’d landed yourself a life of extra chores and punished to more frequent church visits until your father decided you had repent enough. your father, reassuring you of god's forgiveness as his child, warned that your actions wouldn't fade from memory. he emphasised the necessity of restoring your relationship with the lord and savior. you were under his constant watch, now. each morning, before dropping you off at school, he compelled you to pray fervently for protection over your family and yourself, urging you to plead for deliverance from the consequences of your actions.

with your increased presence in church taking up most of the time you had to yourself, you found yourself taking note of the other frequent church goers. your father, of course, and his dedicated student, were a constant in your peripheral vision. the old couple who lived only a few minutes away from you, mrs. harmon and her froofy, dirty church outfits, her boisterous children, and her grumbling husband. you noticed small things; like how the wife of the newly-wed couple in town had stopped wearing her wedding ring, and how her husband seemed to never give her a second look. how the twin boys in the grade below you suddenly surpassed you in height, and their younger sister now seemed to lack a certain innocence that was pertinent in her character before. you made a small promise to yourself to pray for her. 

there was one person, however, who you were not familiar with, yet you could feel it in the deep ends of your bones that you knew exactly who he was. he had begun to appear only once a week, his shiny buzzcut and blue peacekeeper uniform sticking out sorely from the rest of the crowd. then, twice a week- then three- and then suddenly you found you could not escape from him. everywhere you turned, he was there. when you walked home from school, you would catch him patrolling somewhere nearby, or laughing and chatting with his peacekeeper friends. when you opened the church doors for mass, he would be first to walk in, handing you a small smile before making his way to sit in the pew farthest away from you. he was there, everywhere you looked, and it unsettled you greatly. there was a lack of sincerity in his eyes when he smiled, and for a moment you thought that it had seemed like hunger, but you pushed the idea away before your brain could process it. one night, when closing the church doors and heading to your home, the small sound of rapid footsteps triggered your fight or flight response, the latter winning. when the man rested his hand on your shoulder politely, handing you a handkerchief you had dropped, you felt a strange sense of deja vu. the speed at which it sounded he had ran towards you didn’t match how he stood before you now; breathing even, chest pushed out pridefully, his dark sapphire eyes never leaving yours. but you were so sure that the man had been sprinting, just like the man who had sprinted after you a few weeks ago had. you gave him a small thank you before speed-walking your way to the front door, panting heavily as you locked it shut behind you and your hand made its way back to the pendant on your neck, grasping it so tightly it hurt, the stipe digging into the soft flesh of your palms as a way of grounding yourself back to your senses. 

that night, when you got on your knees to pray, you couldn’t shake the look on the mans face from your thoughts. his features themselves were even, lacking any sense of emotion, but his eyes troubled you the most. the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you would burst into flames right then. it made you feel as if there was something he wanted from you, but your poor innocent soul couldn’t figure out what. when you nestled yourself into your bed that same night, you vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. 

you hadn't realised how hard that would be. 

he approached you the next morning. it was saturday, and the usual gloomy weather of district 12 had been forced away and replaced with the harsh, bright sunlight. it shone spectacularly through the stained-glass windows, gracing the dark wood of each side aisle with vibrant reds and yellows and blues  and brightening the deep red carpet that lay evenly along the nave. you stood behind the pulpit, readying your fathers sermons and homilies for that week's sabbath. he had barged in unannounced, making his way towards you slowly as you pretended to ignore the tall figure making its way down the red path. 

“good morning, miss,” he spoke lowly towards you, peering upwards slightly as the pulpit was slightly taller than the rest of the church, and you pretended to read through the cards and flip through your bible as if it were you preparing to speak in a mere 15 minutes. he cleared his throat once, and you waved your hand nonchalantly towards the pews, “the preacher will be ready shortly. please, have a seat.” 

from behind your fathers flashcards, you could see a small tick of his jaw and he pressed his lips together tightly, nodding slowly before making his way to his usual seat, feigning interest in the architecture of the building. 

“its quite beautiful, no?”

you hummed. 

“i wonder how the district could afford to pay for it.”

the comment caught you off guard, causing you too look up at him with scrunched brows, your lips parted in confusion. surely, he knew the capitol had paid for it- and even then, what did it matter? a sanctuary for god deserved only the best of resources, you thought. the beauty of the church was a reflection of the beauty of your religion, the intricacies and meticulous carpentry of the building spoke to one of the three transcendentals that point to god. of course, it would be beautiful. 

before you could think of a response to the bizarre musing, your father burst in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek and thanking you kindly for preparing for him. the man stood up to make his way to greet the preacher, and you were out of sight as fast as lightning. 

that cycle continued for a while. he would sit in the pews, admiring the architecture (when really, he was admiring you), then stand to greet your father enthusiastically, frowning ever so slightly when you disappeared the moment he made any closer to your father. eventually, you had become quite good at avoiding him. you saw him less in the markets, saw less of him in church, and rarely caught sight of him anywhere else. that was, until you found him at your doorstep one hot summer day. 

you and your mother swore it was the hottest day to see district 12, and you sat on the porch in a small, lace trimmed top and cut-off jean shorts. your hair was carelessly tossed into an updo to relieve your neck of some heat, and you sat in your fathers old chair as you sipped on some juice your family had been given earlier that day. 

you weren’t expecting any visitors that day, so it was safe to say you nearly choked when the man appeared from behind the path of thrush that hid your small home from sight of the church, dressed only in the blue dress pants of his peacekeeper uniform and a thin white shirt, silver dog tag swinging like a pendulum across his chest as he made his way towards you. your father had emerged delighted, mr. snow!, he cheered, patting the man- snow, what a fitting name- on his back and urging him inside. you scrambled to the backdoor and into the kitchen where your mother rest, the door slamming behind you loudly as you entered, causing her to jump. 

“dear?”

“that man daddy’s talking to- who is he?”

she gave you a halfhearted shrug, “i wouldnt know, pumpkin, it’s probably business with your father. he goes to the church, no?” 

you nodded, pacing back and forth, ignoring the crazed look your mother threw at you as you processed the information. 

“do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” she reminded you, and your jaw dropped at the silent accusation she threw at you. 

“absolutely not, mother!” you stormed back out the door, drowning your mother’s laughter out with frustrated mumbles of has she lost her mind? and what a woman! how she could ever think something about snow was tempting you was beyond your understanding. however, when you made it back to your chair and your watered down glass of juice, the sight of a shirtless ‘mr. snow’ and your, otherwise fully dressed, father in the garden, dripping sweat shamelessly into your mothers vegetable patch, a snap thought breached your mind that perhaps there was something tempting about the mysterious man. 

that sent you into a frenzy. your knee bounced anxiously as you silently begged god to forgive you for the thought, and that it was simply intrusive, and not reflective of the morals and high grounds you held closely to your heart. nervously, you grabbed the book you had abandoned weeks ago and shoved your nose into the pages as if to distract yourself from your own brain and its wicked ministrations.  

you weren't sure of how much time had passed, yet it felt like the man's stay was suspiciously short as he and your father made their way inside. you gave him a curt nod, and your father gave you a small lecture about manners, insisting that the two of you become accustomed to one another. and there you were, legs drawn up to your chest as if to protect yourself from the sinful looking man before you. 

“my name is coriolanus snow,” he said. coriolanus. it was unlike any name you’d heard before. you returned the gesture softly, hoping that he would disappear behind your father into the house and you could breathe again, but he stayed and stared at you with that look, “your father tells me we’re the same age. he’s a nice man.”

you bit your lip at that. the same age? there was something about coriolanus that seemed older. it also begged the question: what was someone his age doing as a peacekeeper? you opened your mouth to pry at him, but he cut you off, stepping closer. 

“tell me, dear, what sins weigh in your heart?” 

you drew yourself back further into the safety of your chair, face laced with disgust as you tried as hard as possible to distance yourself from the imposing man now caging you into your confinement. his breath was heavy on your nose, and your heart pounded harshly- from what, you weren’t sure. fear? a sense of danger? temptation? his lips were so close to yours now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne that mingled with the saltiness of his sweat, and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible, feigning indifference to his proximity to you poorly. 

“i dont know what you mean, mr. snow.”

he smiled at that, laughing lowly. he didn’t expect you to know what he meant, of course, but he had an inkling that if he played his cards just right, he’d have you right where he wanted. he leaned closer now, lips dodging yours, lightly brushing your nose as his head turned to whisper in your ear. 

“do you think of me at night? our little chase?”

“wh-what?”

“you’re smart, miss. think about it.”

he disappeared into the house, bidding goodbye to your mother and father and whisking himself away. your mouth remained parted, eyes wide with confusion as you tried to process what his words could have meant. 

surely, he couldn’t mean.. 

no. absolutely not, you decided. coriolanus may have unsettled you ungreatly, but he was a peacekeeper- and your father had always told you that they served to protect you, that they would never harm you purposely. you stood shakily and made your way quietly into the old house, reeking of old wood and boiled vegetables. you sat on the couch near your brother, holding his head to your chest as you stroked his hair comfortingly, still trying to process. from the kitchen, your father called, “he’s a nice boy, no? perhaps he could be of some influence to you, sweetheart.” 

you agreed meekly, despite disagreeing with your father completely. you werent entirely sure what he saw in the man at all, yet you were adamant that he was, in fact, not a good influence, but a parasite. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. he made you feel unsafe- unsure of yourself, and for some reason, your faith. you decided he was no good; but yet you couldnt make any understanding of the bittersweet ache between your thighs. 

when coriolanus walked home that evening, he couldn’t fight his smile. he saw you, in all his glory, struggling pathetically under his gaze, squirming and fidgeting uncontrollably as he trapped you within the cage of his arms. 

the sacrificial lamb has been caught, he thought. 

what a stupid, stupid lamb. 

౨ׅৎ

you rushed into church near 5 am the next day, sleep deprived from the constant running of your mind and the damned words of coriolanus snow. 

“our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” you repeated to yourself, kneeled below the large wooden crucifixion of jesus, hands clasped tightly together, your head resting painfully against the white of your knuckles. 

what you were praying for, you didn’t know. you couldn't go to the confessional- heavens forbid, no. confessing secrets of your dreams of coriolanus’s hands, the outline of his jaw, the way he whispered his sinister words so sweetly into your ear- to your father? you would rather be hanged for the whole district to see. there was nothing sinful about your dreams, exactly, but it felt sinful, dirty, downright hellish. you thought of his lips, the soft and pink flesh of them, the stormy blue of his eyes- and, oh god, you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head. 

‘do you think of me at night?’ he had asked you so earnestly. as if he needed you to tell him yes, you did think of him, every night. it wasn't a lie, of course, only the way you had begun thinking about him had changed. but that wasn't your doing at all, was it? no, he was to blame, for speaking to you like that, for dangling his dog tag so close that it brushed your cross indecently, for showing up to your house and stripping himself half naked, sweating impurely over the soil you and your mother sowed and reaped with love, with innocence, purity. it was entirely his fault, from the way he seemed to be forcing himself into your life. the church door creaked open, and you continued to pray, “give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

your heart raced as footsteps neared closer, as if you knew exactly who they belonged to. 

“what troubles you, little lamb?” his voice took you with fear, the way it rumbled in his chest and reverberated on the walls confining the two of you, alone. you raised your head, refusing to look back at him, “i do believe that's none of your concern, mr. snow.”

you heard him chuckle lowly, repeating the words mr. snow to himself under his breath. it made you shiver, and you recited the bible verses your father drilled into your head from as young as you could remember: vindicate me, o god, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation; rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.

you could feel him now, knee pressed lightly against your back. you stood up and turned to face him, eyes wild and daring as they searched the azure maze of his own. his hand reached to stroke your hair, and you flinched. 

“why is it that you fear me so much, do you think?”

“i’m not afraid of you.”

he tsked, “‘fear’ is different than ‘being afraid’, darling. to be afraid is a fleeting moment. your brain's immediate response towards danger,” he moved to touch your hair again, now more forcefully, tucking the loose strands along your hairline behind your ear. 

keep back your servant also from willful sins.

he continued, “i asked, why do you fear me?”

you tried to search deeper into his eyes, trying to grasp any understanding at what he was trying to communicate to you. your mind ran amok, and it was no help that coriolanus's hand now snuck its way into your fingers, fidgeting with the soft digits mindlessly. 

“i don't.. i don't know-” he cut you off by stepping closer before you finished. you had wanted to tell him that you didn't know why he thought you feared him, that you didnt understand the question, and that you needed to get home soon, so to please excuse you. 

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

you let out an involuntary laugh, giggling childlishly at the accusation. you stopped, when his eyes darkened. 

“i’m sorry, mr. snow, but i really don’t know what you mean!” you were struggling to contain your girlish giggles. what he imposes between me and god? it was such a bizarre statement, so plainly laid out for you, that you couldn’t even comprehend it entirely. your laughing ceased, for good now, when his hand circled tightly around your wrist. 

let them not have dominion over me.

then i will be upright.

“i’m not stupid, love. i saw you, yesterday, practically drooling over me. i wonder what your father would have to say if he saw the sinful way you ogled at me,” he paused, and you swallowed painfully, “and dont tell me you’ve forgotten all about our little chase, hm? wasnt it exhilarating?” now, panic engulfed you. you tried to back away from him as the pieces etched themselves together in your brain, but his hold on your wrist was only getting tighter. 

“that was you?” your voice was impossibly small, weak from the alarm that blared in your head. your eyes darted back and forth desperately, searching for an out, hoping and praying that someone might burst in and see the scene before you, tear hades away from his persephone and save her from her impending doom. 

i will be blameless and innocent of great transgression.

he dipped his head to your neck, lips deliciously grazing over the supple skin of your collar bone, pressing kisses so light you could barely feel them as you tried to wriggle from his grasp. 

“of course it was me, darling,” the way you felt him smile against your skin was chilling, and you fought back tears as he moved impossibly closer to you, “isn’t that adrenaline rush just addicting? tell me, dove, what do you think about me when you lie in bed and replay our precious little moments together in that pretty head of yours?” 

your breathing quickened, and you winced as coriolanus gripped tighter at your wrist, his other hand painfully gripping the small of your waist, massaging the gentle muscle of it. you could feel his entire body pressed against yours, and a tear threatened to slip when you felt the hard pressing of his lower region on your stomach. you shook your head, refusing to give in to his line of questioning, but his grip on your waist tightened and you cried out in pain, “your hands!” you whined, relief slowly making its way to the sore area of your waist as he loosened his grip. he made to grasp your chin under his index, forcing you to keep eye contact with him and urged you silently to keep going. 

“your..” you let out a shaky sigh, “your h-ands, your voice, the words you speak to me. i don't understand why.” 

he cooed at you now, as if proud of you for speaking up. your eyes darted to his lips, and you saw something flash in his eyes, “anything else?”

let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight,

lord, my rock, and my redeemer. 

you tried to look down at your feet as if to run away from the question, but his hold on your chin was unrelenting. shamefully, you whispered, “your lips.” 

he let out a small ahhh, as if the admission shocked him. he knew, of course. of course he knew. you poor thing. sweet, little lamb, so innocent and pure. untouched by lust, blind to its deceptive allure. he knew from the moment he’d gone after you in those woods and failed to catch you, that he would do everything in his power to make sure you would never escape his grasp again. he knew when his frail attempts at getting closer to you failed, he had to resort to a harsher solution. he needed to infiltrate every space you breathed in, and break his was into your mind until he had you right where he needed you to be: malleable, so he could corrupt you just as easy. 

he knew your father protected you, the extent to which he went to protect you, as well. banning sex education in your school, ensuring your mind stays as pure as possible to the exploits of fickle men and their wants. you knew the basics, thanks to your mother and her worrisome self, but her teachings were meddled down into some confusing allegory that left your mind as clueless as before, so that you stayed intact, perfect and pristine in the lords eye as well as the rest of the district, in your white frilly dresses, light makeup, and perfectly crafted manners. 

he knew how easy it would be to get in your head. the human body is funny, like that, wherein it begs for things it doesn’t know of. he knew when he flexed his hands you caught sight of it, when he swallowed you intently watched the way his adams apple bobbed, he knew when he showed up to your home and stripped himself almost bare it would plague your mind with an unknowing want and desire, and soon enough, you’d have no choice but to give in to it, abandon your god and his lessons for coriolanus alone. 

he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, swiping his thumb across yours as if to mirror himself, and then ducked his head closer, “go on.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. everything felt so, so wrong, and you didn't know why, but you couldn't stop. when he continued to toy with your lip, slightly plunging the tip of his finger past them and into your mouth, you let out an involuntary, small moan, and your legs shook and quivered as the strange ache from yesterday returned. 

“wh-what?”

“kiss me.”

your eyes widened, and you shook your head. coriolanus thought it was adorable, how you struggled to piece together what was about to happen, how your brain tried desperately to fill in the blanks with information it didnt know. you heard coriolanus sigh disapprovingly at your protests and he shoved his thumb further into your mouth, causing you to choke. he removed it, then wiped the saliva that remained over your bottom lip before inserting the digit in his mouth, tasting you. 

“its okay, little one. you can kiss me. he wont mind,” you didnt realize your fingers lingered over the necklace nestled on your chest, and your gaze followed his finger as he gestured upwards. he wont mind. you racked your brain over the things coriolanus said to you from he entered the church.

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

now, you truly hoped someone would burst in, and you could scream and wail as you explained the horrors coriolanus was about to commit to you (even if those horrors were unclear). he was so close, and something still pressed hardly against your stomach, and suddenly you couldn't breathe, “he would mind. i promise to pray for you coriolanus, i don't know what troubles you, but the lord-” 

he cut you off by shoving his lips onto yours harshly, groaning at the contact. his hands made their way to rest on your clothed breasts, and you wriggled and struggled to try get away from him, but your efforts were fruitless. you were cornered, now. a lamb with nowhere to run or hide, forced to face its fate. he ravaged your lips, hands restless as they caressed all over your protesting body. the ache between your legs grew, and a small part of you realized that the last thing you wanted right now was for someone to walk in, and see the preacher's daughter being completely defaced by a peacekeeper. 

“your god cant give me what i need, angel. cant you see? you did this to me,” his hand grabbed yours as he pulled away to speak, trailing it down the hard muscle of his abdomen and palming the hardness that threatened to burst through the seam of his pants. your eyes were wide and doe-like, and coriolanus never needed to fuck you more. his lips met yours again, and his other hand fumbled to remove his pants, hissing when the air hit his straining cock, all while you tried your best to distance yourself from him as much as possible. your face was hot, and your hands remained in the air, unsure of where to rest them, as you slowly allowed coriolanus to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“good girl,” he practically growled, and you let out a pathetic squeak when you felt your core tighten, pleasure washing over you at the small praise. coriolanus was turned on beyond conception, moaning disgracefully as he stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear. if you could see the spectacle the two of you were making, in the middle of church- no less, the thought alone had coriolanus close to the edge. you gasped when you saw him palm himself, and without thinking, your hand brushing his ever so slightly, lingering a second too long before his eyes snapped up at yours, pleading you to go ahead and touch him. 

when you finally pressed your hand to his clothed region, you swore the way coriolanus threw his head back with a small mewl and moan would land you an eternity in hell alone. 

“thats it, baby, jus’ like that.. keep going..” you gasped when his hand sneaked its way under your dress- your sunday best- your hand faltering a bit when his long middle finger lightly grazed your clothed cunt. the foreign feeling it elicited from you had you desperately searching coriolanus’s eyes for an answer, unable to speak as his fingers that toyed with the most intimate parts of you had you moaning softly and lowly, uncontrollably. you continued to palm him, and his hand slipped into the lacy cotton of your panties, cursing hotly under his breath when he feels you. 

“so wet for me. you dirty fucking girl, look at you: making a mess in church.” you didnt know what he meant, but shame burned through your skin. confusion grappled at you and you began to sob, not ignoring the way your tears seemed to make coriolanus throb beneath you, “please stop, coriolanus, this is immoral.”

“baby, if it feels good, then it cant be bad,” he stroked the tear stains on your cheek softly, cupping your face with false earnest as he pulled your head to lay on his chest, “does it feel good?”

coriolanus reveled in the way you looked up at him, like a devoted follower in the arms of their saviour. when you nodded slowly, he gently spun you around and shoved your face into the cool wood of the crucifixion behind you, his hand painfully pushing against your cheek enough so that you couldn't look anywhere but above you, into the sad eyes of jesus. 

your panties were ripped off with a shriek that was muffled by coriolanus’s hand around your mouth, and you sobbed as pain mixed with pleasure as he gave a few slaps to your dripping cunt, mumbling about how pretty it is. in a desperate attempt to wiggle out of your new position, you accidentally arched your back further, giving him more access. 

“let me show you how i can love you,” he whispered into your ear, before returning his fingers to the slick mess that coated your cunt, your body jolting when they occasionally brushed over your clit, the unfamiliar sensation already too overwhelming for you to handle. with a few more agonising strokes of his fingers, he prodded at your hole, teasing your entrance in a way that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. when he finally slipped them in, your hand pounded desperately against the cross you were pressed up on, pleads to stop falling pathetically into the hand of coriolanus and onto deaf ears. he was merciless with it, greedily pounding his fingers into you in a way that had your knees gravitating towards each other and animalistic grunts of pleasure vibrating through his hand. 

something in you burned, your body was pleading for more as an unfamiliar coil formed in the pit of your stomach. your hand continued to bang against the cross, tears falling as you forcibly peered into the eyes of your saviour while you got your cunt ravaged in the middle of his shrine. 

“oh god, oh god” you mumbled through his hand. you were unsure if it was shame, or the delicious way coryo pumped his fingers into you, but you grew lightheaded and dumb, eyes hazy as you grew closer to your release. 

“thats it, take it. you’re filthy, taking my fingers so well in the middle of church.” now, both hands scraped desperately against the cross, leaving marks in the wake of your fingernails digging into the hardwood. coriolanus tugged your head further up, forcing you to stare at him with tears streaming down your face and desperate pleas for him to stop going unheard. he smiled coyly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them just before you reached your release, a loud, agonising whine of relief and desperation leaving your smushed lips. he was quick to replace his fingers with his cock, the slow intrusion of it making you let out a low, droned out groan as he stretched your virgin cunt past its limit.

he removed his hand from your mouth, and a string of prayers tumbled out of it, “o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” and “and i detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” it earned you a slap to your ass, and you cried out loudly as coriolanus shoved your dress off of you, watching as it fell uselessly around your legs into a pool of white. he flipped you around, admiring your soft breasts and the way they spilled over in the hold of his fingers, and he traced the soft, plumpness of your belly as he chuckled lowly at your continuous prayer. with his cock still nestled into you, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“god loves you, but not as much as i do,” and then he thrust his cock into you with such force that you nearly tumbled to the floor. his hand rest on your lower back, forcing you to arch closer to him, your hips meeting his unwillingly at his fast pace. coriolanus’s cock grazed the inside of your gummy walls perfectly, and you found yourself slipping from reality as he continued to pound his dick into you, moaning when you contracted around him without rhythm, your inexperienced self almost overloaded with pleasure, unable to control your body. 

“you’re being such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he weaved a hand through your hair, “‘n you’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah? gonna make a woman out of you.” you couldnt focus on the words he was throwing at you, lost in pleasure as the tip of coryo’s dick hit that one spot over and over again. the way he spoke to you had you at a crossroads, and it didnt help that he was fucking you into oblivion, and now you understood what he had meant when he said he imposed between you and god, because you were becoming addicted to the push and pull of his cock inside of you. 

“thats right, take it. you look so pretty all dumb and fucked out on my cock,” you reached to grab his arm to steady yourself, your orgasm creeping in closely, “you gonna cum for me?” 

you didn't know what it meant, but you nodded anyways, completely lost in bliss, “coryo..” you moaned out, his brows raising slightly at the new nickname, a smirk settling on his face. moans and mewls lewdly left your mouth as he quickened his pace, his unused hand massaging at your tits, twisting and pinching softly at your nipples as you thrashed with pleasure under him. 

“gonna make you worship this fucking cock, baby” he was close himself now, his head falling and his voice itching up an octave, lewd moans clashing with yours as the rhythm and pace he set began to falter, and he fucked you as hard as he could as he chased your high and his own, “gonna make you devoted to me. you’re never gonna wanna be away from me again,” his face twisted with pleasure, and you circled your arms around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, the coil in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel and threatening to snap. a shadow passed, and your eyes widened with terror as you slapped coryo’s arm haphazardly, begs falling from your mouth to stop. he turned his head lazily to look at what you were whining about, but his thrusts didn't stop. 

“let them see what a dirty fucking girl you are.” 

your walls tightened and your eyes rolled so far back into your head you were scared they wouldn't come back up as your orgasm reached you. you covered your mouth, shrieking desperately as the shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, the newfound feeling unrelenting as it took over every part of your body. coriolanus repeated words of encouragement and praise as he fucked you through your high, before bottoming out and releasing his load in you, christening your walls. you whined at the feeling, so full and drunk off of it that your concerns of the passerby faded. the both of you stood there, panting heavily, both groaning when coryo slid out of you. he slapped his tip on your puffy clit one, two, three times, before a loud knock rapped on the church door. 

you could feel coriolanus’s spill leaking out of you as you crouched on your knees, hidden, and you cried silently, the reality of what had just happened to you settling in. coriolanus snow had corrupted you, in the worst possible way, and now you could only feel yourself crave more of him. as he spoke to the intruder, egging them to run along, a thumb caressed your head gently, as if to tell you he had everything under control. the small southern drawl he’d begun to pick up was more prominent. when the intruder finally left, you were forced to your feet, and coriolanus grabbed your ruined panties, resting on his knees below you to shove them into your used cunt, before making his way back to his feet, towering over you. he spoke to you like he would if he were on duty:

“you go on home now, miss. and tell your father i say hello.” 

and you did. 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[elvenhub]

(Fem reader) legolas being clingy after spending the day away from reader. i want to see my doe eyes elf being pouty and acting like a touch starved bby please 🥺

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 0.5k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: a day spent away from you has left the prince in need of your touch now more than ever ( fluff, established relationship )

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ notes: omg omg i loved writing clingy legolas sm ty for the req !

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ´ˎ˗

One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved. 

Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny. 

“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.

“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips. 

"Lay with me."  He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his. 

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 10

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Days three and four went by uneventfully, they slept wrapped up together in their nest, Eddie talked a lot and ate way more than he usually would be able to eat, and Steve was eternally grateful that the friskiest he got were just flirty come on’s and maybe the odd slap of his ass whenever he bent over to grab new things from the low cabinets.

There was no rush on the incoherent lust.

Although Eddie always seemed to be just simmering a touch below boiling in terms of flirt, although his scent still occupied every corner of the room and cloyed until the point of needing the ventilation system to clear the air a little less Steve actually go a little loopy on it. Although he had been running a touch warm since the morning of day five.

He was still pretty much himself.

Which was why a switch in that scent mid-way through the day sent Steve into a bit of a panic he was due, day five would be it. He was due to turn at any point, Steve had even rubbed the weighted blanket all over his scent glands just in preparation for it.

The change in scent was barely noticeable amidst the forest pine, the petrichor, amidst the most pleasant of earthy scents, it was like… rot, woodland rot, faint but weaved in among the rest, and Eddie had stopped eating his bag of pretzels. Neither of the two promising great things.

It wasn’t the scent of lust, no Steve knew that scent, it was the scent of sadness.

“Eddie?” Steve was right there though, crouching low as he approached just to crawl into the next to be beside him, having been moving the unused bed out of the way to expand the nest a little. Give them more room for snacks. “Eddie, baby what’s wrong?” The brows were pinched, eyes cast downwards to the sheets, flicking left to right ever so often, mind stuck on something. Steve couldn’t have that, couldn’t have his Omega stuck on anything that would cause him distress.

He gently took Eddie’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted his face ever so slightly to look at him and oh… oh those big brown eyes. The panic, the uncertainty, the sadness… Steve didn’t know what’d caused it, but he’d fix it.

He’d do everything he could to fix it. “Steve” it broke his heart how sad his poor Omega sounded, that little whine in his voice

“What’s the matter, my omega? What is it? What can I do?”

Eddie didn’t even know if he could say it. He’d tried many things over the past five days, he’d said many things, and every single one of them had been shot down, maybe with the odd sprinkling of Steve saying things back in that tone with those subtle touches that made his gut all tingly and his pants drenched in slick, but Steve had always pulled back before they could go any further.

He'd always attempted to be as professional as he could be and that was fine, but this wasn’t one of those times, this was real, a real personal crisis, and Eddie didn’t know if Steve would take it as seriously as it needed to be taken.

He didn’t want to be there for his heat.

He didn’t want to be somewhere, with the perfect alpha, where he couldn’t touch him, or be touched by him. He didn’t want his first sexual experience to be with a goddamn heat aid. He didn’t want that taken away from him just because he’d been too scared to let someone see him as he grew up.

Just because he’d been too afraid to take chances and put himself out there.

It was coming. He knew it was coming. He’d been feeling that increasing pressure in his gut all morning, felt saliva build in his mouth whenever Steve moved in just a way that made his clothes stretch over his broad form. Felt his body warm whenever Steve got just a little too close, right now he felt like he was on fire but—but he couldn’t.

Not yet. Couldn’t slip under.

“Take the heat aids away.” Next best thing. He couldn’t ask for Steve’s knot, it wasn’t fair, wouldn’t be allowed, would only get Steve fired and maybe worse if the authorities got involved which sometimes they did when it came to the clinics. The government itching to close them down cause fuck Omega’s, right? “Take them out. Out of the room completely, all of them and—and get some chains an stuff for me okay? Just—just so I can’t—I can’t move.”

“Eddie, I don’t—”

“It’s coming now, Steve… I can feel it, I’ve eaten enough, I’m warmer than I’ve been in five days, my whole body itches but not in the way that any scratch can fix, It’s coming. I—I don’t want a fake knot, Steve. If I wanted one, I’d have sold enough drugs back in high school to get one for myself but instead I chose concert tickets, I chose smokes, I chose D&D minis, and books, I chose amps, and my guitars, I could have afforded a heat aid years ago, but I chose not to.” He was poor, yeah, he wasn’t middle or upper class by any means.

But he could afford a heat aid. They weren’t that pricy. Maybe he’d have been a little insulted that Steve thought he genuinely couldn’t afford a heat aid if he wasn’t so damn perfect.

“You need them, Eddie this isn’t—Eddie it’s gonna—”

“I know it’s going to suck, I know, I know, it’s sucked for years, it’s sucked every month for the entirety of my pubescent and post pubescent life, I know. I refuse to have that taken away from me by a stupid piece of silicone when I’ve finally found an Alpha who makes me feel like I can actually be myself and not be judged or pushed away for it. I know you can’t do anything, I know I cant ask you to break the rules because—because society has decided that Omegas don’t get to choose after their heats start, that we cant think.” It was a fair assessment, he knew it was, he of all people knew how batshit insane an Omega could get during their heat, but it didn’t feel right when Steve was right there and he knew, he knew he wanted him but couldn’t have him.

Not yet anyway.

“Eddie let me finish, it’s going to hurt, you are one bad heat reaction away from being registered dangerous, you attacked your own blood relative last time, someone who’s been with you most of your life, blindly, and you know what they do to dangerous Omegas? They institutionalise them for the safety of everyone around them… if… if you don’t get some kind of knot this time around, even if you don’t go off the rails, your next heat—the chances of your body rejecting a mate… The chances of that omega part of you rejecting your alpha…” the chances would skyrocket.

Eddie could very easily self-destruct. Omega’s needed that knot, not just for stimulation or pleasure, but it was a deeply rooted need for their continued mental stability. Going without for so long… something would eventually break, and the cracks had already begun to form.

“Steve” Eddie’s voice sounded so pathetic to his own ears, a mournful, pleading whine, but Steve was right there, his big hands cupping Eddie’s jaw, holding his face, thumbs gently swiping the tears rapidly gathering on his waterline, feeling the skin warming beneath his palms. He probably looked pathetic, but he couldn’t care less.

He’d waited too long. Gone through too many heats with nothing to help.

“Oh baby, my beautiful, perfect Omega, it’s okay… it’s going to be okay, this? This doesn’t count. Heat aids don’t count, they never count, it means nothing other than giving your body what it needs to stay healthy. It’s like that salad you ate, like all those celery sticks? Your body needed those didn’t it, so you ate them, and you felt good, didn’t you?” Eddie nodded, sniffling away the tears Steve’s thumbs couldn’t catch in time. His temperature was rising, pupils dilating, Steve needed to get the hell out of there and fast. “That’s all this is, your body needs that knot, okay, it needs it, and this… stupid thing—” Steve reached over to where he’d put the aid. Or rather where he’d hidden it to stop Eddie from cracking jokes about it, under two of the blankets and one pillow. He held it up while his other hand remained on Eddie’s cheek, the way those big brown eyes just zeroed in the way he leaned so heavily forwards, breathing heavy, neither going unnoticed. “Just like those celery sticks, it’s just a thing your body needs, just something that'll make you feel good.”

It wasn’t even a fun heat aid, it was just a cylinder with a knot at the base. Didn’t have any bumps or ridges for stimulation, just… a smooth cylinder with a knot, purely for medical purposes.

“You—you should go…” Steve nodded, and it broke his heart to do so, but he had to.

“I promise, Eddie… after all this is over, me and you are gonna spend a whole week just… hiding away from everything, alright? I have a good few vacation days saved up, gonna use a whole chunk of them on you and you alone” with a harsh swallow of saliva Eddie nodded, a whole week, just the two of them. “I promise, just me and you” he pressed a kiss to the rapidly warming sweat-slicked skin of Eddie’s forehead, he could do that, just a forehead kiss, he was allowed to do that.

“Alpha…” yep, he had to go. Steve grabbed the weighted blanket from the side of the nest, it’d been laid over the edge of it, not quite part of the nest just in it, and draped it over Eddie, the Omega sinking into his nest beneath it’s weight, head turned to the left to get as close as he could to breathe in the scent it was drenched in, writhing under it to get as much of the scent on it onto himself as possible.

“Please be okay…” Steve uttered quietly, before ignoring every instinct he had, and leaving as quickly as he could, giving his key to the security guys on the way out as he went.

All he could do now, was wait.

Part 12

[ohisms]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ( an aesthetics dash game based upon figures from arthurian legend ) — repost , do not reblog .

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐲 : midnight rituals. looming shadows. the feeling of being watched. veils of mist. unrequited love. the musk of exotic herbs. silk & velvet. moonlight through twisted branches. the beauty of a storm. the weight of destiny & prophecy. a chalice that might be poisoned. healing hands.

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐭 : a noble heart. oaths of protection. a quest for redemption. heroic deeds. pine. fulfilling a role. shining silver. quiet fortitude. selfless dedication. a bountiful feast. war horses. seeking a greater calling. fatal mistakes.

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 : whispered incantations. ethereal light. ages-old secrets. the spark of creation. ancient disputes. a hidden sanctuary. the allure of the unknown. finding balance between light & dark. opportunism. fear of unfulfilled potential .

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞 : the grace of a queen. jasmine. unyielding faith. the blush of a tender moment. a golden crown. poetic letters of affection. the aroma of blooming roses. the glow of candlelight. a radiant smile. lavender. wise eyes. eternal love.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 : unity, at whatever cost. an overwhelming presence. battle cries. noble sacrifice. enduring legacy. a grand vision for the future. the balance between justice & mercy.

𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐧 : unwavering loyalty. strength in humility. the glow of a warm hearth. old traditions. chivalric valor. a canopy of trees. wisdom gained from trials. being one's own worst enemy. bearing a heavy conscience. a sense of duty to protect the innocent. hooves on a woodland path. the scent of leather & steel.

[zapreportsblog]

❝forgotten memories❞

✭ pairing : Lester Sinclair x reader x Bo Sinclair x Vincent Sinclair

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : whiles out hunting Lester comes across a beaten and battered young lady in serious need of medical attention so what does he do? He takes the little lass back to his hometown to get treated by his brothers, but she happens to wake up and at first they expect her to freak out since she’s surrounded by three men but the only thing on her mind is why can’t she remember anything but her name

✭ authors note : art work by @kasiawoe found it on Pinterest also this was requested by @shadowraven-02 you sent this in to @fandomnationwhore a while back and I’m here to fulfill it since I’ve taken over doing some of their top requests :) if at any moment you wish to be untagged, do inform me as I have no problem with it I just thought I’d tag you and let you read what you sent in

✭ slasher masterlist

Lester Sinclair had always found solace in the woods. The dense canopy of trees, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of woodland creatures were a symphony of tranquility. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the demands of his hectic life and find a sense of peace.

On this crisp autumn morning, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Lester set out for a hunting expedition. He carried his rifle with practiced ease, each step taken with a careful consideration of his surroundings. His brothers, Bo and Vincent, would join him later, but for now, he relished the solitude.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, Lester's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual amidst the fallen leaves. There, sprawled on the ground, was an unconscious young woman. Her clothes were torn, and her face was marred by a bleeding wound on her forehead. It was a sight that sent a jolt of concern through Lester.

Kneeling beside her, he carefully examined her condition. She was still breathing, albeit shallowly, which was a relief. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face, revealing her pale complexion. Concern etched his features as he noticed the deep bruises marring her arms and legs. It was clear that she had been through some kind of ordeal.

Lester's instinct to help kicked in immediately. He knew he couldn't leave her here, injured and alone in the woods. Carefully, he reached into her pocket and found her wallet. Opening it, he discovered her identification. Her name was (Y/N), a medical student still in college.

With determination in his eyes, Lester decided to take action. He scooped her fragile form into his arms, cradling her gently. She was surprisingly light, making it easier for him to carry her. As he began to make his way back to his pickup truck, he couldn't help but wonder how she had ended up in such a dire situation.

The journey back to his home felt like an eternity, the forest passing by in a blur of green and brown. Lester's mind raced with questions, but his primary focus was ensuring (Y/N)'s safety. He knew his brothers would be just as concerned as he was when they saw her.

When he finally reached the old, rustic house that he shared with Bo and Vincent, Lester carefully carried (Y/N) inside. The warmth of the living room enveloped them, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside. With great care, he laid her down on the couch, his worry deepening as he took a closer look at her injuries.

Bo had been planning to join Lester for the hunting trip, but he arrived later than expected. He pushed open the creaky front door of their rustic home, a cheerful greeting on his lips. "Lester, you out here, buddy?" he called, stepping into the warm and cozy living room.

His voice trailed off when he laid eyes on the unexpected scene before him. His gaze fixed on the unconscious girl lying on the couch, her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the familiar surroundings.

"Who the hell is she?" Bo blurted out, his voice tinged with some kind of emotion though Lester wasn’t sure what.

Lester turned toward his brother, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and confusion. "I found her out back in the woods," he explained, "She was unconscious, and there are bruises on her, and she had this nasty wound on her forehead."

Just as their argument started to brew, the connection between the twins kicked in. Vincent, who had been working away in the basement workshop, felt Bo's growing frustration through their twin link. He abandoned his tools and made his way upstairs, his face a mask of concern. He signed, asking if everything was alright.

Bo's agitation was clear in his voice as he responded to Vincent's silent inquiry. "No, Lester here is putting us all in danger."

Lester frowned at Bo's accusation. "How am I putting us in danger?" he retorted, his voice rising in frustration.

Their argument continued, voices escalating, as neither brother noticed the subtle movement on the couch. (Y/N) began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked in confusion, disoriented by her surroundings and the voices she heard. Her vision was blurry at first, but gradually, the room came into focus.

Vincent, who had been watching the argument unfold, suddenly noticed her awakening. He took a step back, positioning himself between Bo and the girl, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to observe her reaction before drawing attention to her presence.

As (Y/N) began to regain consciousness, she felt a dull ache in her head, which sent a wince across her features. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, and as she sat up, she couldn't help but notice the three men now staring at her. Their expressions ranged from concern to curiosity, and she blinked owlishly at them, her confusion evident.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

Lester, the one who had found her, stepped closer and replied, "You're in my home. We found you in the woods unconscious, and you had some injuries, so we brought you here."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud.

Bo, ever the standoffish one, folded his arms and said, "That's exactly what I'd like to know too."

Vincent, who had been observing silently, stepped forward and signed a question, his hands gracefully moving through the air. However, (Y/N) was caught off guard by the unfamiliar gesture and simply responded with a confused "Huh?"

Lester quickly intervened, introducing his brother. "That's Vincent," he explained, "He was just asking if you're okay."

Still somewhat disoriented, (Y/N) nodded uncertainly. "I think so?" She winced again, a hand gingerly touching the bandage on her forehead. It was clear she had many questions, but her priority was trying to make sense of the situation and her surroundings.

“So how did you get out there.” Lester asks, he watches her brows clench and that’s when his concern deepened as he watched (Y/N) struggle to recall her recent past. He leaned closer and gently asked, "I mean do you remember how you ended up out here in the woods? You're pretty far from town."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to summon any memories that could explain her current situation. However, her efforts were in vain, and her frustration grew as she shook her head, her voice trembling as she admitted, "No, I don't remember."

Bo, always quick with a sarcastic remark, couldn't resist but quip, "Does she even know anything?"

(Y/N), taking Bo's question more seriously than intended, felt panic start to creep in. She tried to think back to her life, her home, her studies, but everything seemed to be shrouded in darkness, leaving only her name as a lone beacon of familiarity. Tears welled up in her eyes as the realization sank in that she couldn't recall anything else.

Vincent, noticing (Y/N)'s distress, reacted impulsively. He smacked Bo on the arm and then swiftly signed at him, "Look, you made her cry."

Bo's temper flared. "I ain't do a goddamn thing to that girl!" he retorted, defensive.

Lester, always the voice of reason among the brothers, interjected firmly, "Enough, you two! We need to help her, not argue." He moved closer to (Y/N) and spoke in a soothing tone. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure this out together. Take a deep breath."

He reached out to offer her a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her panic and bring some clarity to the situation.

Lester gently held (Y/N) in his arms, offering her a comforting embrace as she cried out her fear and confusion. His heart went out to her as he whispered soothing words. "It's okay, (Y/N), you're safe here. Everything's going to be alright. This is just a hiccup in the road. You'll remember, I'm sure of it."

She clung to his words, her sobs gradually subsiding. In his arms, she found a flicker of solace amidst the storm of her lost memories and newfound uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Bo's frustration had not subsided. He was growing increasingly impatient and wary of the stranger in their midst. He couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) was a threat, not just to Ambrose, but to all of them.

In the quiet of the kitchen, Bo took Lester and Vincent aside, his tone hushed but determined. "We need to get rid of her," he declared, his voice filled with urgency.

Lester frowned deeply, appalled by his brother's suggestion. "Bo, we can't just... get rid of her. She's clearly in trouble, and we need to help her."

Bo's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "She's a danger to Ambrose, and she's a danger to us all. We don't know who she is or what happened to her. We can't trust her."

Vincent, ever the voice of empathy and caution, hesitated. He signed his thoughts, "We need to be careful, but killing her? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

Bo was unwavering. "Think about it, Lester. We have no idea who she is or what she's involved in. We can't risk our safety, or Ambrose's."

Lester shook his head firmly. "No, Bo. I won't do it. We'll help her, keep her safe until she remembers. We can't resort to violence."

The tension in the kitchen grew palpable, as the three brothers faced a difficult decision that would shape their future and the fate of the mysterious (Y/N).

Bo's frustration reached its peak, and he reluctantly conceded. "Fine," he grumbled, his jaw clenched. "But she's your responsibility, Lester."

With those words, Bo turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind him. Vincent, sensing his twin's anger and knowing that arguing further would only escalate the situation, hurriedly followed, hoping to calm Bo down and find some common ground.

Lester was left alone in the kitchen, his thoughts swirling as he watched his brothers leave. He knew that taking care of (Y/N) was a responsibility he was willing to shoulder, even if it meant facing uncertainty and danger. She needed their help, and he was determined to be there for her, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

[natashatrace]

tether.

hangster + otters. (repost because the og post has a 'read more' that no longer works. <3)

//

it isn't until they're alone in their bunks that jake really lets himself feel the weight of what he - what they all just went through.

he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. he can still hear the terror in rooster's voice. the acceptance in mav's. it makes his skin crawl.

there's no way in hell he'll make it through the next few weeks without nightmares about it.

judging by the sound of bradley's fingers tapping in the bunk below him, he isn't the only one trying to stay awake.

jake debates it for about ten seconds before rolling his eyes at himself, sliding out of his bunk and letting his feet hit the floor with a soft thud.

"can't sleep, either?" bradley asks, his voice all gravel in the back of his throat, exhausted and dried out from time spent in the cockpit.

jake bites the inside of his cheek, finding bradley's eyes easily despite the darkness of the room. he knows they aren't anywhere close to okay. shooting down an enemy aircraft isn't the same as apologizing for the shit they've been through. it doesn't erase the distance between them.

but jake knows just how bad the nightmares can get after going through something like this, after crashing from the adrenaline, and it's just.

it's harder to go through it alone.

(he assumes, anyway. he didn't have anyone to face it with back then.)

wordlessly, he slides into bradley's bunk. he waits a few seconds, gauging bradley's reaction and preparing himself to either be kicked to the floor or told to leave.

but bradley just scoots back. jake scoots forward a little more, lifting the thin sheet and pulling it over his hips.

and then it's like they're right back at the start - playing chicken with each other, waiting to see who'll break first. jake used to take pride in holding out longer than bradley ever could, grinning against bradley's lips when he'd give in and kiss the smirk off his lips.

now, though.

now, jake just reaches out and finds bradley's shoulder. squeezes it gently, his fingers featherlight against bradley's skin as he slides them beneath the cotton of his shirt sleeve.

he can practically hear the way bradley's eyebrow arches in question.

jake pretends he doesn't notice. softly asks, "y'know otters hold hands when they sleep?"

bradley squints. "did you really wake me up to talk about woodland creatures."

but bradley's arm is moving, palm facing up so that jake can easily run his fingers down the length of his shoulder, over the inside of his forearm and the sensitive skin of the pulse point on his wrist. bradley lets jake run his fingertips over the lines of his palm for a moment and then threads their fingers together.

"you weren't asleep," jake answers simply, squeezing bradley's hand.

bradley's jaw clicks.

finally, after a long moment of just listening to him breathe, jake hears bradley's soft whisper of, "...why?"

and jake knows it's meant to be why are you acting like this. why are you being so soft with me. why are you pretending the last decade didn't happen.

jake's fully aware of all of that.

but right now, with bradley's eyes on his, bradley's skin beneath his fingertips - right now, it doesn't fucking matter. for the first time in a long time, jake thinks they could figure it out.

maybe it's just the adrenaline crash. maybe they'll get back to base and this feeling will be gone.

or maybe.

maybe their souls are tied together. maybe they always have been, and maybe jake wants to pretend they could strengthen the knots and smooth away the frayed pieces of this bond between them to create something eternal.

jake ignores the questions that he knows bradley's actually asking. instead, he explains, "they do it so they don't float away from each other when they fall asleep. keeps 'em together. gives 'em, like. a tether."

bradley stills a little. there's a shine in his eyes that wasn't there a moment ago.

jake doesn't mention it.

"that what you're doin', man?" bradley finally asks, looking down at their joined fingers.

the phrasing of the question makes jake's skin crawl a little. bradley's man is purposefully casual, like he's trying to keep this distance between them despite the way he's clinging to jake's hand, and jake just lets out a little sigh.

"bradshaw."

"seresin."

"bradley."

when bradley looks back up, there's genuine fear in his eyes. for a moment, jake's transported right back to nights spent together in the academy, back when this thing was supposed to be physical and meaningless and -

christ. jake's never been able to look at bradley without his breath catching.

"... you gonna keep me here?" bradley asks quietly, thumb brushing back and forth over the back of jake's hand. "tether me?"

jake just slides a foot through bradley's calves. keeps the movement slow, gentle, giving bradley time to pull away if he wants.

but he doesn't. just squeezes jake's hand harder.

"jake," he whispers, voice thick.

jake lifts their joined hands to his lips. "i know," he says softly, kissing each of bradley's knuckles. "i know. i've got ya."

when bradley finally falls asleep, jake can feel sweat in the space between their palms. the pad of his thumb is raw from rubbing it over bradley's sunkissed skin for so long. it's uncomfortable. hurts a bit.

he doesn't let go.

[hades-in-bloom]

‘Till Death Do Us Part, Pt. 2 | Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon disappeared on his wedding day—until he was finally found.

contents & warnings: am cursed with fluff, assumed older Leon, assumed age gap (could be none though), mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death, reader could be any gender, Leon behaving like an ass because he can’t handle feelings, kisses, no mentions of y/n

author’s note: I had no idea how it would end until it ended; proceed at your own risk.

all works in this blog are intended for 18+ audience

comments are appreciated <3

xoxo

***

Leon spat blood and attempted to turn his head around, mildly squinting because of the palpable pain in the back of his skull. Shit, he grunted. Shit, shit, shit. The man cursed through the pain in his broken ribs and the soreness of the bruises that seemed to cover every inch of his body.

Who knew a quick work trip from New York to Washington, D.C., the day before your betrothal would be a nasty idea?

“You knew, you overworked dumbass,” Leon muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and hoarse. Everything that happened to him was precisely what Kennedy should have expected after the mission brief that Hunnigan delivered last night.

While he was getting out from under the wreckage of the D.S.O. helicopter, you must have been worried sick, all glammed up and dressed in your beautiful wedding gown. You didn’t let Leon take a peak at it before the ceremony, and now he regretted it—after all, he has never been too superstitious; will he even make it home tonight? At this moment, the man had no presumption if the ceremony would happen. Right now, he ran thin against the chances of making it out alive from his trouble.

Leon quickly searched for other survivors of the incident, but he found only corpses instead. Again. That seemed to be his thing—to be the last man standing; however, this peculiarity of his character has never brought as much peace to Leon as others would like it to.

It could bring peace to you, though, as by the end of this night, you might still have a fiancé to marry if he gets lucky.

Leon took time to bandage his right leg with pieces of his shirt as it bled heavily, almost dripping onto the ground. If he loses too much blood, he will collapse right there—and then you will haunt him in the afterlife, as you promised some time ago. Not that he didn't want to spend eternity with you, but it was way too soon for his liking.

Leon wasn't sure how long did it take to reach the highway, walking through the woodlands.

He passed out as soon as one of the cars slowed down next to him, answering the man's heavy gesturing from the roadside.

***

Your phone rang in the middle of the night, but you were wide awake.

“Yes, Ingrid?” you replied, audibly drenched and tired and lacking sleep for the past few days. You—or anyone—haven't heard back from Leon in a week, and you started losing your mind. You didn't want to prepare yourself for the worst; you really didn't.

“He's in a hospital in Delaware,” Hunnigan kept her tone professional, although it wasn't enough to hide her excitement. You covered your mouth with your hand, suddenly feeling dizzy. “He's badly hurt but alive. I'll send a D.S.O. ‘copter to pick you up—you are his emergency contact, after all.” You could hear Ingrid smiling. “Over and out.”

Hunnigan has already hung up—and you still couldn't breathe.

***

You rushed up the stairs to the second floor, not caring about using the slowest elevator on Earth—at least, that's how you perceived the hospital’s one; for the past week waiting on Leon to get back home, you had no patience left.

He briefly flinched in a hospital bed when you burst into his ward. You were so mad at him before—and suddenly you weren't, looking at how he's devouring a local chocolate pudding, a spoon still in his mouth when his eyes trained on you.

You felt a wave of relief washing over your body, and you finally felt it—he was alive. Despite all the odds, he came back to you.

“You bastard,” you whined anyway, keeping a weird distance. You might have been afraid of squeezing him too hard so the numerous droppers he was connected to would fall off.

Leon finally took a spoon out from between his lips, the lower one visibly split after the accident.

“Do I know you?” he tilted his head, watching you. You blinked in silence; only Kennedy’s heart rate monitor was beeping, its frequency increasing. After what you both went through, did he actually come back to you?

You didn't have time to say a word when one of the nurses walked into the room. She was in her sixties, looking at you like a proud aunt would.

“Oh, isn't it the lovely lady you've been telling me about,” she chirped, looking at Leon.

This was when you noticed a loving smirk growing on his face.

You took a deep breath, taking a step towards your dear fiancé.

“You are so lucky that you were dying a good second ago, Kennedy,” you groaned when he caught your wrist, almost desperately kissing you after you were pulled closer. You had no idea where his strength for this movement was coming from—but you could still feel a taste of a hospital-provided chocolate pudding on his lips.

***

[physalian]

Broke: Yeah I'm a good "vegetarian" vampire. I don't eat humans I just murder woodland creatures and leave their bodies to rot/be eaten by scavengers. Woke: I eat people like a sensible vampire and do it without killing them because a person can consent to donating blood that regrows anyway.

Even before I wrote a book exploring this for 111k words, seeing shit like Bella Swan murdering a mountain lion only to drink its blood never sat right with me. Or Stefan Salvatore eating squrrels and bunnies. At least in my state, mountain lions are incredibly endangered, Bella. Maybe that cat had cubs, Bella. Maybe they're gonna starve now, Bella. Maybe you just murdered the last female in the whole region, Bella.

You are still murdering something with your so-called 'holier than thou' diet, and you're wasting the meat and damaging the local ecology in the process. Morally just vampirism is actually Damon's diet--sustainable feeding practices, whether that ends up being through compulsion or a legit willing donor or [paid for] blood bags if those exist in your universe.

At the very least, "vegetarian" vampirism is a lie and I'm just a bit tired of seeing its practitioners pretend they're less evil than vampires who, at the very least, embrace what they are instead of digging their heels in for eternity. I guess if you really want to be "morally responsible" maybe keep the animals you murder and make sure the meat/bones/furs and other valuable bits still get put to use by butchers and other trades? Or at least be concious about which animals you take off the market for other predators that can't eat people when the easy prey is stolen by you.

I say. As if this is a PSA to vampire lurkers on Tumblr. *waves*

*Note this has nothing to do with veganism and is more in the realm of responsible game hunting by proper hunters who respect the environment.

**Second note, I suppose this only applies if your lore does not include "vampire bite = death sentence" e.g. Supernatural.

[danika-redgrave124]

Umbra Witch Yuu Umbran Elegance Part 2

Scarabia

Fragrance: Dark Enchantment

Assigned Weapon: Eternal Scepter

Scent Profile: A mysterious blend of smoky incense, dark amber, and a hint of exotic spices.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a serpent wrapped around a scepter, with dark, intricate designs and glowing gemstones accents.

Costume: Dark Sorceress Ensemble

Overall Look: A Majestic and dark outfit inspired by arcane power, featuring deep purples and blacks. The ensemble includes a long, flowing robe with serpent patterns and intricate magical runes.

Accessories: A headdress with Sept designs and elaborate, bejeweled sandals.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in an elegant, dark updo with serpent-like adornments.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, dark energy swirls around them and during attacks, illusions and magical vortexes appear, creating an aura of dark Enchantments.

Fragrance: Mirage Essence

Associated Weapon: Desert Mirage

Scent Profile: A captivating blend of desert rose, warm sandalwood and sweet jasmine.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like an ornate lamp with intricate patterns and jewel accents, reflecting the desert oasis theme.

Costume: Oasis Empress

Overall Look: A regal outfit inspired by desert royalty, featuring flowing fabrics in shades of gold, turquoise and deep blue. The ensemble includes a luxurious, embroidered robe with Arabian patterns and jeweled accents.

Accessories: A headpiece with golden and turquoise embellishments, elegant armlets and sandals with intricate designs.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in elegant waves with turquoise highlights, and adorned with decorative clips that mimic desert jewels.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, shimmering mirages and desert winds swirl around them, creating a mesmerizing effect. During attacks, illusions of themselves appear to distract enemies and enhance their strikes.

Pomefiore

Fragrance: Poisoned Veil

Assigned Weapon: Envious Reflection

Scent Profile: A haunting blend of black rose, bitter almond, and dark vanilla.

Bottle Design: The Bottle resemble a gothic apple with a mirror-like finish, adorned with thorny vines and tiny, glimmering gemstones.

Costume: Malevolent Majesty Ensemble

Overall Look: A regal yet sinister outfit, featuring a deep purple and black gown with high collars, and velvet-like fabric that flows like liquid darkness. The gown is adorned with Silver and gemstones accents, giving it a regal yet Malevolent appearance.

Accessories: A crown-like headpiece with sharp points and embedded dark gemstones and pointed heels that exudes an air of authority.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a sleek, high bun with dark glittering strands woven through it, adding to the regal and menacing look.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, a faint, ghostly Reflection of themselves can be seen trailing behind them, and during attacks, the Mirror emits dark, swirling energies that create deceptive illusions.

Fragrance: Woodland Temptation

Assigned Weapon: Enchanted Apple

Scent Profile: A fresh blend of green Apple and a hint of night-blooming jasmine.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like shimmering apple with vines wrapping around it, adorned with tiny, sparkling dew drops.

Costume: Forest Enchantress Ensemble

Overall Look: A mystical outfit inspired by the enchanting and Dangerous beauty of the forest. The ensemble features a flowing blue and red gown with elements of nature. Such as embroidered vines and apple motifs. The dress has a soft, ethereal glow.

Accessories: A crown of intertwined vines and apple blossoms and boots with apple blossoms motifs.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in loose flowing waves with delicate vines and apple blossoms woven through their hair.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, a trail of falling leaves and apple blossoms follow them and during attacks, vines sprout from the ground, entwining their enemies.

Ignihyde

Fragrance: Elysian Abyss

Assigned Weapon: Stygian Reaper

Scent Profile: A smoky blend of midnight orchid, charred wood and a hint of cool mint, evoking the chilling and mysterious essence of the Underworld.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is designed like a small, dark urn with glowing blue engravings and shadowy wisps curling around its base.

Costume: Underworld Empress Ensemble

Overall Look: A powerful and commanding outfit inspired by the ruler of the underworld. The ensemble features a sleek, form-fitting outfit in shades of black and deep blue, with firey blue accents that give it an ethereal glow. The frabjc seems to shimmer like the surface of the River Styx.

Accessories: A crown of flickering blue flames, matching gauntlets with tendril-like designs, and obsidian boots with glowing blue soles.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a high, sweeping updo that flickers with blue flames at the tips, adding to the underworldly theme.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, shadowy tendrils and ghostly flames trail behind them. During attacks, spectral hands and faces briefly emerge from the shadows, adding a chilling effect to their attacks.

Fragrance: Eternal Bloom

Assigned Weapon: Heroic Heart

Scent Profile: A romantic and captivating blend of blooming gardenia, jasmine and a hint of sweet pomegranate, symbolizing both allure and resilience.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a classic Greek amphora, with intricate vine motifs wrapping around it and a soft, pinkish hue reminiscent of a blooming garden.

Costume: Grecian Siren Ensemble

Overall Look: A graceful yet fierce outfit inspired by Ancient Greek and timeless beauty of Megara. The ensemble features a flowing asymmetrical dress in soft pinks and ivory, with dep purple vine accents and draped fabric that echoes the style of ancient Greek clothing.

Accessories: Golden laurel wreath headpiece and matching vine-wrapped gauntlets and strappy sandals that add to the Grecian aesthetic.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a voluminous, wavy updo, reminiscent of the iconic Greek goddess look.

Special Effefts: When Yuu moves, petals and golden sparkles trail behind them, and during attacks, the lashes emit a soft glowing light that intensifies when enemies are ensnared by the ethereal vines.

Diasomnia

Fragrance: Enchanted Twilight

Assigned Weapon: Eternal Nightshade

Scent Profile: A mysterious blend of smoky incense, midnight roses and a hint of damp earth, capturing the essence of dark magic and enchantment.

Bottle Design: The Bottle resembles a dark crystal orb with thorny patterns etched into its surface. It emits a soft, greenish luminescence that reflects the staff's eerie glow.

Costume: Dark Enchantress

Overall Look: A regal and imposing outfit inspired by the dark sorceress. The ensemble features a flowing gown in shades of deep green and black, with intricate thorn and dragon motifs. The gown has a dramatic, high collar and trailing, ethereal fabric that gives Yuu an air of dark elegance.

Accessories: A crown of Twisted horns, dark crystal jewelry, and flowing tattered sleeves that add to the mystical and intimidating presence.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into dramatic, sleek waves with a dark, emerald green hue at the tips.

Special Effects: As Yuu moves, greenish, smoky tendrils behind her. During attacks, the staff emit dark, swirling mists and bolts of arcane power that illuminate the surrounding area with eerie light.

Fragrance: Enchanted Slumber

Assigned Weapon: Dreamweaver Ribbons

Scent Profile: A soothing blend of lavender, rose, and a hint of sweet vanilla, creating a calming and enchanting fragrance reminiscent of a tranquil dream.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a delicate, crystalline dream catcher with pink and blue accents, emitting a soft shimmering glow.

Costume: Enchanted Dream Ensemble

Overall Look: A graceful and enchanting outfit inspired by the dreamy elegance of a fairytale princess. The ensemble gestures a flowing gown in pastel pink and blue hues, with intricate rose and ribbon patterns that give a sense of delicate beauty and magical allure.

Accessories: A tiara adorned with sparkling gems and ribbon motifs, matching gloves with ribbon-like details, and soft, flowing slippers that add to the dreamlike appearance.

Special Effects: As Yuu moves, ribbons of light and dream energy swirl around them, creating a gentle, shimmering trail. During attacks, the Dreamweaver Ribbons emit a soft, dreamlike glow and the Dreamscape Delight effect envelops enemies in a magical, slow-moving mist.

[darknesseddiem]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the midst of what was anticipated as an ordinary school excursion to Romania, little did you and your friends anticipate the descent into darkness and bloodshed that awaited. The innocuous journey swiftly morphed into a harrowing odyssey as you delved deep into the enigmatic depths of a local legend, its ancient whispers beckoning you towards an abyss of chilling secrets.

What commenced as a lighthearted escapade swiftly spiraled into a nightmarish reality. Grotesque and inexplicable deaths cast an ominous pall over the once jovial atmosphere, while the fabric of reality itself seemed to fray at the seams. Disappearances plagued the tranquil neighborhood, shrouded in an eerie silence broken only by the unsettling whispers of the wind.

The Hawkins gang found themselves ensnared in a web of intrigue and dread, as unsettling dreams wove themselves into the fabric of their waking lives. Each night brought visions of unspeakable horrors, foretelling a fate intertwined with the ancient curse that gripped the land.

As the veil of ignorance was lifted, long-buried truths clawed their way to the surface, revealing a tapestry of forgotten loves and bitter enemies from lives long past. It became evident that the specters of history were not content to remain confined to the annals of time, but instead sought retribution and resolution in the present.

Amidst the chaos and despair, a flicker of hope emerged—a beacon of possibility amidst the encroaching darkness. Could you, a mere schoolgirl thrust into the heart of an ancient mystery, unravel the tangled threads of Romania's cursed legend? Dare you confront the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows, and strive to liberate a poor soul ensnared by the chains of destiny?

In a land where the echoes of the past reverberate with haunting intensity, the fate of the Hawkins gang hangs precariously in the balance. Will you succumb to the seductive whispers of despair, or rise to the challenge and confront the darkness that threatens to consume all in its path? The choice is yours, as you embark on a journey that will test the limits of courage, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heavy content, dark themes, violence, blood, murded, witchcraft. More will be added

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: So, this is is the rewritten version of my old series "Strolling Through Romania", I have an obligation to warn you that this version will be a little more explicit and a little harsher for certain readers. Please, if you are sensitive to these types of topics, do not read. I have other fanfics that you can read if you don't feel comfortable with this one.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ali-r3n @birdysaturne @maedesculpaeusoubi

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: In the heart of the ancient woodland, a frantic escape unfolds as shadows whisper of ominous fates. Reality warps, concealing a lurking malevolence. Amidst chains of torment, an eternal curse is woven, binding a soul to endless longing. In the haunted depths, a mysterious tale unfolds, shrouded in darkness and secrets, known only to the silent forest.

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲: As Arcadia High School diligently readies its senior students for an academic expedition to explore Romania's renowned museums, anticipation crackles in the air. Yet, amidst the buzz of excitement and preparation, you finds yourself haunted by a chilling nightmare that lingers like a specter in your mind, casting a shadow over the forthcoming journey.

Meanwhile, across town, the Hawkins police force grapples with a harrowing investigation—the savage and enigmatic murder of a young boy, a crime so brutal it sends shockwaves through the city's core.

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟: Caught between nightmares and a shroud of chilling secrets, you uncover truths long veiled by your parents and grandmother. Meanwhile, Hopper, haunted by his own past, recognizes the ominous pattern of history destined to repeat itself. As you navigate the murky waters of family deceit, a race against time ensues, urging you to unearth the hidden truths before the shadows of the past envelop you in their unforgiving grasp.

[satoshi-mochida]

LUNAR Remastered Collection announced for PS5, PS4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC - Gematsu

GungHo Online Entertainment has announced LUNAR Remastered Collection for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC (Steam). It includes remastered versions of LUNAR: Silver Star Story and LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue. It will launch in spring 2025.

Get the first details below, via GungHo Online Entertainment America product coordinator Asca Akiyama on PlayStation Blog.

The Series That Started It All

When the games first released in the ’90s, LUNAR was a pioneer of its time, often credited as being one of the first JRPGs to become popular in the West. With the upcoming release of LUNAR Remastered Collection, we invite you to experience (or re-experience) this iconic title that shaped the JRPG genre.

A Timeless Classic, Reimagined

The remastered edition brings a host of exciting upgrades, including widescreen support, enhanced pixel art, high-definition animated cutscenes, and all-new English voice acting. Players can choose to either go old school with the original visuals or go remastered for a more modern look. Plus, a new toggle feature allows players to speed up battles, giving them more control over the pace of their adventure, while improved strategy settings make combat even more convenient. And for the first time in the series, LUNAR will be available in two additional languages: German and French, alongside English and Japanese. This image shows a party battling a Yeti. To the top right of screen, the UI denotes the battle’s speed, as the player can use L2 or R2 to speed up or slow down the clash.

The Adventure Begins – LUNAR: Silver Star Story

LUNAR: Silver Star Story begins in the quiet village of Burg, where a boy named Alex dreams of grand adventures inspired by the tale of Dragonmaster Dyne. Enticed by adventure and treasure, Alex and his friends set off on a quest, but with the sudden emergence of the Magic Emperor who wishes to control the world, it’s up to them to fight the rising evil and save the world from peril. This shows characters conversing with a white dragon. On-screen dialogue from the dragon states: “You may begin, children, Your future now rests squarely in your own diminutive hands.”

The Legacy Continues – LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue

Set 1000 years after LUNAR: Silver Star Story, LUNAR 2: Eternal Blue follows a young adventurer named Hiro, who encounters a mysterious visitor from the Blue Star while exploring an ancient tower. Named Lucia, she insists that she be taken to the ruler of their world, Goddess Althena. Together, Hiro and Lucia encounter the best of allies, the worst of enemies, and the darkest forces of destruction that threaten the whole of creation. This image shows a character hanging upside down from a rope. Flames rage on the floor below them. On-screen dialogue from the character states: “Oh no! The exit’s closing. Hurry!”

the Plot Thickens

The LUNAR series tells a classic tale of a young adventurer with a fluffy sidekick, who falls in love with a girl who may or may not be immortal. What begins as a light-hearted quest quickly takes a dark turn with the rise of an evil villain, subsequently placing the fate of the entire world in the hero’s hands. This timeless story, filled with dragons, swords, and treasures, is brought to life by an unforgettable cast of characters—from a young priestess who acts the perfect heiress at home but has a fiery temper, to a tragic villain who nevertheless has a flair for the dramatic. The games’ straightforward and effortless storytelling, combined with thoughtful character development, gives LUNAR its unique charm and enduring appeal. This shows characters wandering through a woodland village.

Iconic Art

The allure of LUNAR also lies in its amazing artwork in both the anime cutscenes and 2D pixel art. The blend of these two distinct art styles in the battles, events, and anime cutscenes made it a standout title when it first released. Even today, LUNAR‘s ’90s anime aesthetic holds up well in quality, and we’ve polished it even further for this remaster. This retro art style is a rarity nowadays, and playing this game will surely satiate your appetite for ‘90s throwbacks.

Watch the announcement trailer below.

Announce Trailer

English

Japanese

[readyforthegarden]

Season of the Witch - Part Two

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x F!Reader, Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Danny always told you, you shouldn't play with things you don't fully understand. When trying your hand at magic, you accidentally summon something more than you bargained for. Now stuck, you try to find a way to rid yourself of him, but what if the only way of ridding yourself of him is dying?

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of witchcraft, angst, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

WC: 3859

You woke up with a start, sitting straight up in your bed. Your shirt clung to your damp, sweaty skin as you untangled yourself from your sheets. Your mouth was incredibly dry, almost cottony, and you nearly fell to the floor as you stood up. Your mind was trying to process something, something you couldn’t put your finger on, but it wouldn’t let you push it aside, letting it nag at you. Shuffling into the kitchen, you grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it at the sink, gulping down the tap water before getting another glass to quench your thirst as you thought.

“Good morning, Fawn.” you jumped, the glass slipping from your hands and shattering into pieces on the floor. Everything rushed back to you in a flash. Leaving Danny’s apartment, the web searches for the curse, the shaking, the fear, the strange man that was in your apartment. “I wish you wouldn’t have done that, I already cleaned up your mess from last night.” 

You froze, partly scared to move and cut yourself on the shattered glass, and partly because the voice was right behind you, so close that if you moved, you were sure his lips would graze your ear.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” the man informed you, his voice strangely soothing. “I swear on your soul.”

“My soul?” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder at him. He smirked and shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s not worth much, but it is something.” he twirled a lock of your hair around his finger. “Did you sleep well?”

“Please don’t,” you turned your head, tugging your hair from his grasp. He let it float out of his hand, continuing to smile at you. 

“Are you still afraid of me?” he tsked at you, angling his chin towards his chest to give you the biggest doe eyes manageable. 

“I-I don’t even know your name…” your hushed breath fanned across his face. Straightening up, the man grinned, standing back and tugging on the lapels of his crimson, satin suit to make sure they were even. 

“My name is Samuel,” he introduced himself. He stared at you expectantly.

“Oh, uh I’m-“

“No need.” Samuel cut you off dismissively. “As you slept I took the liberty of going through your things.” He continued, rattling off your full name, height, and weight, proudly. You pictured him rummaging through your bag in the early hours, studying your driver's license. “That’s more than my people care to know after a bonding. Usually you don’t learn the other's name until after the fornication.” 

“The what?!” you nearly jumped out of your skin, inching your way away and around the island, away from him. “There will be absolutely no fornicating!” Samuel watched you back away into the living room of your apartment with a smirk, and when you were close enough to the door, you turned to throw it open and run out. 

“Going somewhere?” you were nose to nose with Samuel as he arched an eyebrow mockingly. 

“Let me go,” you whispered. “Please, this was just a mistake and I’m really sorry. Let me go find my friend, and we can fix this.” 

“Little fawn,” Samuel raised a hand slowly, as if you truly were the skittish woodland creature he named you for. He brushed your hair back from your face, gazing down at you. “There is no undoing what has been done. We are bound for eternity by a stronger magic than you can comprehend.” you could feel your face fall from fear to despair, and something in the being in front of you softened, only slightly. “But if you want to see your friend and have them tell you the same thing, then so be it.” You didn’t want to believe him, but a small ache in your chest hinted towards him telling the truth. “You should bathe, you reek of perspiration.”

Samuel stepped away from you, and nodded towards the short hallway that led to your bedroom, the bathroom on the way. You moved towards the hall, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following you. The tall man just watched you, giving you an innocent waggle of his fingers to usher you along. 

You took a quick shower, combing through your wet hair afterward and setting it into two braids. Realizing you didn’t have any clean clothes in the bathroom, you wrapped your towel tightly around you before skittering out the door, dashing across the few feet towards your bedroom, shutting the door behind you quickly and locking it. Dressing quickly, you finished tugging on a pair of ankle socks as you unlocked the door. You half expected Samuel to be gone as you stepped back into the living room, and yet he was there, lounging on the couch looking bored. His eyes slowly glanced over to you, a sigh of complacency as he stood up and moved towards the door.

“You can’t go out like that.” you stopped him from placing his hand on the doorknob. Samuel sent you a challenging look and you rolled your eyes. “You look like you’re about to go to a club.”

“And praytell, what would you rather I wear?” Samuel blinked, waiting for an explanation. 

“Something normal? Casual?” you shrugged. 

“This is normal and casual.” Samuel huffed. “Do you have anything I could borrow, then, if this is not suitable for the public?” you nodded, moving back to your bedroom. You were always stealing clothes from Danny, taking his t-shirts when you would crash at his place, promising to wash them, and then putting off laundry for so long you assumed they were just yours now. He never asked for them back, even when he saw you wearing them, though you must have cost him at least a few hundred dollars in replacements over the years. Pulling a soft cotton t-shirt from your closet, you turned to walk back out and hand it to the man, but once again he surprised you with being directly behind you.

“Can you stop?” you jumped when you saw him. “Please, personal space.” you thrust the shirt at him as he smirked. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, the smirk stuck to his lips, he slipped his red suit jacket off, not looking as he tossed it behind him, only for it to land neatly on your bed. Reaching behind him, you heard the metal of the beaded harness cling softly as he undid it, letting the cool silver slide down his arms, that being dropped to the ground with a clatter. Samuel’s eyebrows raised slightly as his hands dipped towards the button of his pants. “Stop! Just take the shirt, you can keep the pants.” He chuckled as you pressed the shirt into his bare chest and walked away from him.

He looked ridiculous, nice, satin dress pants and velvet matching loafers, and a ratty slightly oversized t-shirt hanging over his torso. You would have laughed if you felt you had the time. As soon as Sam emerged from your room, you ushered him out the door and into your car. After another minor argument about buckling in, he finally clicked his seatbelt into place and you were able to back out of the apartment parking lot. 

Samuel fiddled with every knob and button on the console, changing the station for the radio, sliding the volume up and down. You couldn’t even focus on it as you tried to figure out how you were going to explain to Danny that you conjured a….something….and how to get rid of him.

You arrived at Danny's door quicker than you wanted, Samuel right behind you, hands behind his back as if this was a Sunday stroll in the park. Reaching out, you rapped your knuckles on the wood, your stomach beginning to tie itself in knots. You still didn’t know how to explain what happened, especially since he’d warned you to stay away from the darker intentions. 

“Hey, I was going to call you and see how the protection spell went…” Danny had opened the door with a smile, but it faltered as he looked behind you at the tall, dark haired man that had become your shadow. 

“Well, it…went.” you tried to smile but could only grimace. “Can we come in?” Danny looked back to you, studying your face for a moment before nodding, stepping back and opening the door. Moving past him, Samuel followed in, looking bemused as you turned and watched Danny shut the door.

“What did you do?” Danny asked when he turned around. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you expectantly. Sam also turned to you, looking entertained as he waited for you to detail your magical mishap.

“I’m sorry, I know you told you that I was just doing a protection spell but I didn’t. I wanted to get even with Asher and I did a revenge spell.” Danny looked at you puzzled.

“I tore those pages out of the grimoire, how-”

“Tell him, tell him how,” Samuel chimed in. Danny’s attention flickered to him once again.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Danny furrowed his brow, giving the stranger in his apartment a once over. 

“He’s uh, he’s Samuel.” you introduced him. “He’s….well, he’s-”

“She’s still not used to it, I’m her, well, I guess you could say eternal life partner.” Samuel grinned cheekily, holding up his hand to show your old ring still firmly planted on his left ring finger. Danny’s eyes widened as he looked from you to Samuel a few times. “Congratulate us!”

“Sam,” you groaned under your breath as he tossed an arm around your shoulders. You shrugged him off of you, stepping towards Danny. “I looked up a spell online, and it was wrong,” you stopped when you were toe-to-toe with your friend, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I know what I did was wrong and yes you already told me not to mess with the dark shit and I’ve learned my lesson, but now I’ve summoned this guy and apparently we’re bonded forever and I need you to tell me there’s a way out of this.”

Danny’s lips were pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched as he gazed down on you. In your friendship, you’d both tested each other's patience, but you were scared this mishap pushed him beyond his usual forgiving limits. In all  the years the two of you had been friends, you had never straight out lied to him. At least nothing more than a little white lie. But a lie this big had your chest aching. You stared up at him for what felt like hours, when finally he spoke.

“You lied to me,” he murmured quietly, not hiding the disappointment in his eyes. You could feel your heart crack at the sadness in his voice. 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling your face turn red from embarrassment and eyes sting from tears about to be shed. “Danny, I fucked up big time, and I need your help.” Danny stared at you for a few moments longer, before sighing. 

“Tell me what you did, exactly.” he instructed you. A shaky sigh of relief washed over you and you took your phone out of your pocket, typing into the search function what you remembered from the night before. You turned slightly so Danny could see the small screen in your hands as you scrolled through, not finding the site you used. 

“Dammit, it’s not here anymore!” you groaned as you continued searching. “It was like the fifth website last night, Danny I don’t know what happened.”

“Walk me through what you did then, as best you can.” Danny placed a hand on your shoulder, making you turn towards him again. You thought about it, placing yourself back into the frantic mess from last night. 

“I drew a circle in the middle of the living room, and there were these sigils I drew on the outside.” you explained, biting softly on the inside of your bottom lip as you recalled. “I-I don’t really remember what they looked like.” you felt the tears well up in your eyes again as you looked at Danny, panic setting in. Danny reached out, his large hand taking hold of your upper arm in a reassuring grip before sliding down to your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. 

“It’s okay, I have a lot of books, I’m sure we can find them.” he pulled you into a comforting hug, chin resting atop your head as he swayed you gently. No matter how disappointed in you he was, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. 

“I remember them.” Sam cleared his throat, causing you to pull away from Danny. You had almost forgotten he was there in the room. He offered a tight smile as he looked at you, then to the man holding you. “Daniel, do you have any paper and a pencil?” Danny hesitated letting you go, but moved away to one of his bookshelves, grabbing an old notebook, and rustling through a few drawers. 

He returned and handed the requested items to Sam, who turned on his heel and perched himself on Danny’s small dining table, setting to work. 

“What-what is he exactly?” Danny whispered to you when he stood back next to you. You shrugged haplessly. 

“I’m not sure,” you whispered. “He moves pretty fast, he cleaned the mess in my apartment like it was actual magic…do you think he’s a demon?”

“I truly don’t know,” Danny shrugged. 

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs, you know,” Sam chimed loudly, not once turning away from his sketching.

“Are you a person?” Danny countered, crossing his arms over his chest again. At that, Sam looked up with a haughty smile. 

“I seem to be right now.” He turned back to the paper, and Danny gazed down at you. You could see the worry in his eyes, asking silently what you got yourself into. You weren’t sure what your own gaze conveyed, but you tried to apologize over and over again. “Here it is, this is what she had inscribed on her floors.”

Danny took the paper from Sam as he held it out. He studied it for a few moments, and you peeked over, looking over the sigils you’d drawn the night before, trying to see if you could somehow make heads and tails of the mistakes. Sam watched the two of you with a bored expression before reaching over and tapping his fingers on the page. 

“This sigil is what opened a portal, and this one,” he moved to the one directly across the previous. “is the one that summoned me.” he winked over at you. “The sigils and her energy were enough to do it, her incantation meant almost nothing.”

“I’m not sure about these markings,” Danny turned to you quietly. “I haven’t studied dark magic like this before.”

“So I’m screwed?” you looked at him, your hope failing. 

“For right now, yes.” Danny shook his head. “I’ll have to do some research, call a few friends who’ve dabbled more than I have.” Danny cupped your face, his thumb grazing across the apple of your cheek. “But we’ll find a way to undo this. Break whatever this is and send him back to where he belongs.”

“He is standing right here and he thinks he should have a say in when and where he goes.” Sam cut in harshly. He was glaring between you and Danny now. “I was summoned, I didn’t choose to be here. I didn’t choose to be bonded. But like I told you last night, little fawn, actions have consequences. And this is the price you’re paying for your stupidity.”

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Danny was stern as he pushed you slightly behind him. Samuel sized up your friend as he stepped forward, almost sauntering up to him, challenging him. 

“As the one bonded to her for eternity, I will speak to her any way I please.” he replied, his voice eerily quiet.

“If you lay a finger on her-“

“You’ll what? Sage me to death?” Sam sneered. “None of the little tricks you have up your sleeves,” Sam paused, taking in Danny’s cut shirt. “or lack thereof, can get rid of me.” 

“You wanna bet?” Danny challenged, stepping closer. 

“Guys, please,” you stepped around Danny, placing yourself between the bickering men. “I don’t think I can handle anymore explosions right now.” Sam grinned, proud of the memory of his entrance into your world, while Danny glared. 

“You’re right,” Sam cleared his throat. “Darling, I’m famished, it’s been so long since I’ve had a body like this. Could we find something to eat?” you were slightly taken aback. Aside from the new pet name, you weren’t sure why, but you hadn’t thought about the fact he would need to eat. He was, after all, seemingly human. 

“Oh, uh yeah. There’s a diner up the block.” you turned back to Danny. “Do you want to come with?”

“I think Daniel is better suited to his books here.” Sam cut in before Danny could answer. He and Danny exchanged looks over your head and you watched confusedly. 

“He’s right,” Danny finally ceded. “I should start seeing what I can find, reaching out to a few contacts. The earlier I start, the sooner we can break this curse.”

“I owe you, Danny.” you couldn’t help but throw your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. “Seriously, I will buy every drink at the bar from now until we’re dead.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” Danny’s voice was muffled into your shoulder. 

“Can we go?” Sam’s voice called out, already standing by the door. “I don’t like this feeling in my stomach.”

“It’s hunger,” you pulled away from Danny, moving to the door, catching the tail end of Sam’s stomach growling. 

“Oh I am well aware of hunger,” Sam smirked. Twisting the doorknob, he tossed the door open, ushering you out. Turning on your heels, you looked back at Danny. 

“Text me if you find something?”

“Of course,” Danny smiled back, letting it fall as Sam used a single finger to push you forward, giving Danny a taunting look as he did so. 

“Goodbye Daniel, it was a pleasure.” Sam shut the door behind him before Danny could speak. 

At the diner, you fiddled with the wrapper to your straw, watching the paper bend and twist between your fingertips. Sam was content to people-watch, making passive comments about the fashion people chose to wear these days. Your thoughts were consumed by your present and future, regretting your past actions. What if Danny couldn’t find anything? What if his friends couldn’t and you were stuck, bonded to Samuel for the rest of your life? 

As you ruminated about your possible futures, staring at the paper twisting in your hands, you began to get angry. Angry you hadn’t listened to Danny, angry for someone putting incorrect information on their website, angry at the entity beside you for just existing. You barely registered the paper in your hand was beginning to smoke, until a small flame burst from it. Sam's large hand covered both of yours, effectively putting out the minuscule flame. 

“Something you’d like to share, fawn?” you glanced up at Sam, who was watching you with an almost unreadable expression. There was a proud smirk tugging on the corner of his plush lips but his eyes were carefully trained on you. 

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the papers onto the table and pulling your hands out from under his palm, resting them in your lap. He continued to watch you as you did everything to avoid his gaze. Your only reprieve was when the waitress brought your food, setting down the plates on the table, at least four in front of Sam, and two in front of you. 

“I don’t know where you’re going to fit all that,” the waitress joked, looking over Sam’s meal. There was a stack of pancakes in front of him, on the next plate a farmers omelet stuffed to the brim with fixings. Another plate held steak and over easy eggs, and the fourth, his sides, bacon, sausages links, toast and hashbrowns. “You must be some sort of athlete or something.”

“Why yes, I am,” Sam grinned. The waitress just smiled and walked away to tend to her other tables as Sam unrolled his silverware from the paper napkin. You finally turned to look at him, as he placed the napkin in his lap, and reached for the syrup jar by the salt and pepper shakers on the table. You watched him grimace at the sticky feeling of the handle, it not having been wiped down in some time, but he soldiered through, dousing his pancakes in it. 

Picking up your fork, you started picking at your own breakfast, cutting a small bit of your own omelet and pushing it around before taking a bite. Sam was nearly done with the pancakes, moving on to the sausage links on one of the other plates. 

“You need to eat,” Sam spoke between bites, watching you push your hashbrowns in and out of the puddle of ketchup you’d squirted onto the plate.

“I’m not really hungry.” you shrugged. Sam sighed, placing his fork down onto his plate, waiting until you made eye contact with him to speak again.

“You need to eat, you need your strength.”

“For what?” all you had planned on was going back home and locking yourself in your bedroom, and rotting in bed, mourning the life you once dreamed. Sam leaned forward, folding his arms on the table after pushing his plate away from him.

“Have you ever done that before?” he questioned. You quirked an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes, huffing almost annoyed. 

“You just lit that paper on fire.”

“Oh, n-no.” you shook your head. Sam picked his fork back up, moving the plates around and digging into the steak. “But the sun was right on it, where I’m sitting, it was probably just a freak accident from the angle of the window or something…a trick of the light.”

Sam looked up at you, disbelief clear across his face as his knife cut through the steak. He didn’t say anything else, focused on dipping his bite of steak into the runny yolk of one of his eggs. You finally ate a little of your omelet, which seemed to satisfy him to keep him off the subject. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what happened. The spark wasn’t anything, just enough to tingle in your fingertips before Sam had covered your hands. 

By the time Sam had cleared his plates, and taken the hashbrowns from yours, you’d successfully gaslit yourself into believing that nothing had actually happened, it really was just a trick of the light. Danny had told you, there was no such thing as magic like you’d seen in movies, and despite the evidence in front of you, you were making yourself believe it.

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat

[juniperjean]

It provides

Lottie Matthews x reader (gender neutral)

Cannibalism as a metaphor for love

TW: Guns, cannibalism, cultish shit, reader slightly losing their marbles at the end.

The leaves make a crunching noise beneath your feet after every step you take, a rifle loaded in your hand. The crisp autumn breeze sends a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your bare legs. The shorts you’re wearing offer little to no protection against the biting chill. You didn’t anticipate the coldness, and you certainly didn’t anticipate the fact you would be hunting for game to simply survive 15 months after winning the state fucking championship.

The trees, once lush and green, now stand adorned in their finest attire, their leaves ablaze with the fiery brilliance of the season. As you wander through the woodland, you’re greeted by the symphony of sound: the rustle of fallen leaves underfoot, the gentle sigh of the breeze as it dances through the branches, and the distant chatter of woodland creatures preparing for the winter ahead. The air is crisp and tinged with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage, a heady aroma that lingers in the cool autumn breeze. The leaves, now in various stages of decay, carpet the ground in a mosaic of colors, creating a soft, cushioned path for you to follow. 

Your gaze is stuck on the imprints that a prey has left behind, it’s here somewhere, you can smell its scent in the air. Musky, earthy…slightly sweet. Your movements become fluid, instinctual, as you follow the trail with a single-minded determination. Going for the kill. 

With each step, you sink deeper into the wildness of your own nature, shedding the constraints of civilization in favor of something raw and untamed. The tracks become more than just imprints in the earth; they become a roadmap to your own primal desires, leading you to venture closer to the elusive prey that awaits. The rifle burns in your hands, you fire a bullet. Your ears ring. The once unfamiliar sensation has grown to be comforting because you know you will be fed for the night. “It provides” you mutter softly while looking at your coach and former…sanctuary bleeding out.

Dragging the game back to the makeshift-shelter has become a routine for you, a sinister one at that. It rotates often too. Rabbit, deer, teammate. Deer, teammate, rabbit. Deer, Rabbit, teammate, coach. The muscles of your stomach ache from the constant tension and flexing you have to endure to keep you moving while dragging the weight of coach’s body. The grip on his shoe slips and from time to time you have to stop and wipe your sweaty hands on the rough material of your jacket to keep the grip steady. The red flush from the cold is still present on his face and so is the pained expression from getting shot, he’s still warm too. Serves him right, after burning our fucking cabin down you think.

The pain in your stomach is relentless, a constant reminder of the dire circumstances you and your friends are trapped in—if you can even call them friends anymore. They’re only shells of who they once were, their former selves consumed by the harrowing ordeal you all endure. Nearing the shelter, you spot the tree with the ominous symbol. The very same tree Lottie is so often seen kneeling by and where she communicates with it - the divine, eternal spirit of the wilderness who provides for you all. As for right now, no sign of life is spotted near the tree. In fact, the only trace of Lotties presence is her blood-sacrifice staining the ground and the heart of Akilah on the sacrificial altar. The altar’s surface is stained with dark, dried remnants of previous rituals, and it’s adorned with symbols and carvings that speak of long-forgotten tires. Surrounding the altar, there are candles, remains of those who sacrificed themselves who had the honor of feeding the rest of us and herbs. Countless of fucking herbs. The air around you feels heavy, as if charged with the weight of countless, unseen presences. 

“You found him. I knew you would, I felt it” you hear a soft voice say. The air around the sacrificial altar is thick with anticipation, each breath laced with the scent of burning herbs and the metallic tang of blood. As you kneel, head bowed, you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Slowly, you lift your gaze, your eyes traveling over the soft dirt, up the length of the sacrificial altar, and finally meeting the eyes of Lottie Matthews.

Her gaze is intense, piercing through the dim light that dances around her figure. There’s a magnetic pull in her eyes, an undeniable allure that sends a shiver down your spine. The flickering flames cast shadows that lingers across her face, highlighting the sharp lines and soft curves in a way that is both unsettling and captivating. For a brief, electrifying moment, the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you locked in this charged exchange. Lottie’s lips curves into a slight, knowing smile, her eyes never leaving yours. It is as if she can see right into the depths of your soul, unraveling your secrets and desires with that singular look.

As much as you want to resist her gaze, you can’t. Her fluffy jacket is tightly wrapped around her frame, and her pants are stained with dirt from all the kneeling she has done to pray to the wilderness, to pray for everyone who has made it so far. Then, she whispers your name softly to catch your attention. You merely nod at her to signal that she has captured it, exactly the way she always has and always will. 

“Shauna will prepare him. You rest.” She says with a calm tone.

“Okay” You answer slowly. 

As you walk away from her, the weight of her gaze heavy on your mind, you find yourself drifting into a detached state. The distant echoes of Shauna cutting him up with methodical precision, fade into the background as you move further away from the altar and to the shelter. The sun begins its descent on the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. The sky transforms into a canvas of fiery hues, painting the clouds with shades of orange and pink. Despite the beauty of the setting sun, a sense of unease lingers in the air, a reminder of the events that will unfold under its waning light. The distant howl of a lone wolf pierces the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. You close your eyes shut, hoping to forget everything.

Lying in bed, surrounded by the suffocating darkness of the night, your mind wanders to thoughts of home, to memories of a simpler time in Wiskayok. You try to conjure images of your family, of laughter echoing through the halls of your childhood home, but the aroma of him fills the air and one again the hunger gnaws at your thoughts, relentless and insistent. 

It's a hunger that permeates every aspect of your existence, a constant companion that refuses to be ignored. Your stomach protests loudly, a symphony of growls that reverberates through the quiet solitude of your space. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, one that echoes not only within you but all around you, a shared lament of empty stomachs and unfulfilled desires. 

Suddenly, someone walks into your space of the make-shift shelter. “It’s time” the hoarse voice of Van says. In the heart of the wilderness, surrounded by towering trees and the eerie whispers of the wind, the group gathers—a motley assembly of survivors, bound by necessity and the unspoken pact of survival. One by one, they emerge from the depths of the forest, their forms shrouded in the coarse embrace of fur and the haunting anonymity of masks- all clad in the primal garb of beasts, your faces obscured by the twisted visages of animal skin and bones.

Surrounded by the flickering embrace of the fire, its flames casting eerie shadows that dance across the forest clearing, Lottie sits at the center like a queen upon her throne. A crown of antlers adorns her head, a symbol of her dominion over this primal domain. Around her, the rest of the group gathers, each draped in the coarse embrace of fur and skin, their faces hidden behind twisted masks that echo the spirits of the wild.

Shauna emerges from the darkness, a figure of silence, bearing the meat that will feed them through another night. The sweet scent of your former coach fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest. The primal musk of the animal skin from your mask hitting your face.

With a graceful gesture, Lottie takes the first piece of meat, her movements fluid and deliberate. She offers it to you, the chosen recipient of her benevolence. You stare at the chunk of meat that once was a man you looked up to. A man you confined in, a man you shot. The others gaze at you, their eyes probing, searching for any sign of weakness. There is no room for regret, no space for doubt. Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, see how quickly we become predator. Without hesitation, you accept the offering, feeling the primal thrill of the hunt coursing through your veins as you bite into the tender flesh.

The act is savage, animalistic—a stark reminder of the raw instincts that lie dormant within each of you. The blood dripping down your chin inspires the rest of the group; they descend upon the feast with a fervor that borders on frenzy. Hands and teeth tear into the meat with primal abandon, the sounds of chewing and growling filling the clearing with a cacophony of wild abandon. And as the firelight dances across the rugged landscape, casting long shadows that stretch into the night, you find solace in the knowledge that, in the end, the wilderness provides after all.

PS. My first story ever. So if you think this is shit, FIGHT ME.

[aranel-ancunin]

Lasting Love

Summary : Astarion x Aranel , romance, fluff & spice. This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy!

I had the idea for a BG3 ending I want with Astarion. In this short story he is now mortal, and gets to adventure and see more of the world with the one he loves.

Aranel awoke at their woodland camp to the sounds of birds singing, the river flowing and the sun rising upon her, she smiles when she sees Astarion is still fast asleep, but as soon as she's about to get up from her bedroll, his eyes flicker open. "Good morning," He says as he looks up at her. She lays a hand on his cheek, caressing it with her fingers. He reaches up and places a soft his on her lips. They stare into each others eyes, for what feels like an eternity. Her heart starts pounding faster and faster as she opens her mouth to say something, anything, and then all the air in the world gets sucked out. He kisses her passionately.

"I love you." Aranel whispers. As if reading her mind, he replies, "I know, I love you too." with a soft smile.

The world has stopped moving around them. The birds have stopped chirping, the breeze no longer blowing. He puts his hands on either side of her face and holds her in place. They look deep into each other's eyes again, so lost in each other that neither one of them can speak. Their hearts are beating as one. He smiles down at her. "We should get going," He finally says. Aranel nods her head, unable to find the words to reply. He gives her a tender kiss and grabs her bag, tossing it over his shoulder. They leave the forest and make their way through the grassy fields toward the town of Forveven. As they walk along the trail, hand in hand, she thinks back to the night before, recalling every moment spent with him, savoring every memory, trying to hold onto it forever. Her heart pounds wildly as she looks at him. He seems more beautiful than ever.

When they finally reach the town, they pass by a group of bandits on their way to raid Forveven. They're laughing and talking among themselves. One of them stops and yells, "We've got us a pretty one here!" The other bandits join in and laugh. Aranel turns to see Astarion glaring at them, a scowl etched across his face. Before he has time to move, the bandits grab him from behind. He spins around quickly, knocking several of them to the ground. He stands there, his daggers drawn, facing off against five heavily armed men. She watches as Astarion slowly circles the bandits. Each man tries to attack him, but he dodges each attack effortlessly. She hears him growl quietly under his breath. Suddenly he jumps forward and stabs a bandit in the chest, blood spurting everywhere. Aranel shoots a lighting bolt at another bandit, leaving him paralyzed on the ground. The bandit scream in pain and surprise. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" She asks, still firing lightning bolts at the other two bandits. She barely manages to miss Astarion. One of the bandits runs towards her, raising his sword high above his head.

"Come on! Come on!" The remaining bandits yell out. They charge toward her, shouting angrily. Aranel unleashes a thunderwave, hurling them toward the ground, then charges towards Astarion, who throws a dagger at the last bandit. It sinks into his throat, spraying blood. The bandit falls to the floor in front of him. Astarion asks "Are you alright?" and then wraps his arms around Aranel and squeezes her tightly. She leans her head on his shoulder. The sun has almost set, casting an orange glow across the horizon. The wind begins to pick up as the moon rises in the sky. After taking a short break to catch their breath, Aranel and Astarion continue walking along the road. The villagers are returning home after their long day at work. They wave hello to them as they pass by.

When they get to the center of town, they spot a sign posted on a wooden pole. She reads it aloud, "Welcome to Forveven: A Great Town on the Western Sea." Astarion laughs, "That was not my intention. I just wanted to show you that we'll have plenty of adventures together."

Aranel shrugs, smiling at him, "Adventure? We've been having adventures since the moment we met. Don't think that's changed any." He walks up to her and gives her a quick kiss on the lips. They enter the tavern and sit down next the window, ordering wine and venison stew. They tuck into their meal. A small fire burns at the end of the room, providing enough heat to keep the room warm. Several people stand up from their seats and go to wash up at the basin at the far end of the room. Aranel and Astarion rent a room for the night.

The room is warm and comfortable. It smells faintly of wood and wool, with a welcoming fire. Aranel prepares a bath, while Astarion takes a seat at the table. He looks at her with such love in his eyes, she can feel it, even though she can't see it. She loves him too, she just wishes she could show it better than she does. When the water begins to boil, she gets into the tub and sits down. Astarion joins her a few minutes later. He takes off his clothes and steps into the hot bath. Aranel sighs deeply. She has always loved baths. There's something so soothing about it, the way the warm water envelopes you, embracing you like a comforting blanket.

Astarion places his arms around her waist. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes. This is where she feels most at peace. With her head resting against his chest, she can hear the sound of his heartbeat. Inhaling deeply, she inhales his scent, which she has come to recognize so well. She loves the smell of his leather armor, as much as she loves the smell of his skin. She places her hand on top of his chest, running her fingers across lightly. Aranel turns her head slightly and places a kiss on his neck. She nuzzles closer to him, needing him. Their eyes meet once again, looking deep into each others' eyes. He brushes his hand against her cheek, tilting her head up to kiss her passionately. Aranel pushes herself up onto her elbows and wraps her legs around his waist. She continues kissing him passionately, rubbing her body against his.

The world around them fades away. All she knows is him. Nothing else matters anymore. As he drives himself deeper inside her, Aranel lets out a moan, letting him know how much she loves him. And that she wants him to make love to her. She rolls her hips against him, wanting to take everything he has to offer. Astarion groans deeply, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He presses his body hard against hers, making sure she feels every inch of him. He pumps his hips, driving himself deeper inside her. His thrusts become harder and faster. Her moans get louder. Every time he thrusts inside her, her orgasm builds. Her eyes roll back in her head, as her breathing becomes heavy. She bites her lip as she struggles to control her cries. She grips his shoulders tightly as her whole body tenses up, clenching around him. She feels her insides contract violently around him, squeezing his cock so tight that he's forced to stop thrusting. Just as she thinks she's about to lose it, he continues pushing himself deep inside her. The feeling of pure ecstasy takes over. The waves of pleasure crash over her. She writhes against him as her body contracts and spasms uncontrollably. He continues thrusting until his own climax hits him. A shudder passes through his entire body. His arms collapse against her back. Aranel clings to him, holding him tightly against her. They remain locked in a passionate embrace for what feels like hours. Eventually, they both calm down and return to reality. They help each other out of the tub and dry off. A couple hours later, they retire to bed, drifting off to sleep in each others' arms.

He woke up to the sound of gentle rain hitting the window. He lazily opened his eyes and saw Aranel lying beside him. The sheets had fallen down exposing her body, but she was covered by a thin layer of silk. She smiled at him when she noticed he was awake. He rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms. They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

Tomorrow will bring many more adventures.

[mrk236547789]

**mpreg (male pregnancy)** birth story for you:

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# The Enchanted Blossom's Gift

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of Eldoria, there existed a rare and magical creature known as the "Blossombearer." These ethereal beings were neither fully male nor female but embodied the essence of both. Their bodies could carry life in a way that defied the norms of nature.

Our tale begins with Eirik, a young Blossombearer who lived deep within the Whispering Woods. Eirik's belly swelled with the promise of new life—a secret he guarded fiercely. His partner, Lysander, a gentle forest sprite, fluttered around him, tending to the delicate blossoms that adorned Eirik's skin.

The Blossombearer's pregnancy was no ordinary affair. Instead of a traditional womb, Eirik's abdomen held a luminous bud—an otherworldly vessel where life took root. The bud pulsed with iridescent light, casting a soft glow on the forest floor.

As the days passed, Eirik's cravings grew stranger. He longed for moonbeam honey and stardust-infused berries. Lysander dutifully gathered these celestial treats, whispering sweet promises to the unborn child within.

One moonlit night, Eirik's bud began to bloom. Petals unfurled, revealing a tiny creature—a blend of human and woodland magic. Its eyes sparkled like dew-kissed leaves, and its skin shimmered with opalescent hues. Lysander wept with joy, cradling their child against his chest.

But the birth was not without challenges. Eldoria's ancient laws forbade male pregnancy, and jealous eyes watched from the shadows. The Moon Sorceress, Selene, coveted the Blossombearer's gift. She believed it held the key to eternal life.

Selene's dark magic seeped into the Whispering Woods, twisting the very roots that sustained Eirik's bud. The pain intensified, and Eirik's breaths came in ragged gasps. Lysander pleaded with the forest spirits for aid.

The eldest Dryad, Elowen, appeared—a gnarled oak with eyes like starlight. She whispered ancient incantations, weaving protective spells around Eirik. The birthing chamber glowed with Elowen's magic, shielding the fragile life within.

And then, with a final surge of power, Eirik pushed. The bud burst open, releasing a wailing infant—a boy with translucent wings and petals for hair. Lysander named him Orion, after the constellation that watched over their love.

As dawn painted the sky, Eirik cradled Orion in his arms. The Blossombearer's sacrifice had birthed not only a child but also hope. Selene's curse shattered, and the Whispering Woods rejoiced. Flowers bloomed, and birds sang songs of wonder.

Eirik and Lysander raised Orion beneath the ancient boughs, teaching him the secrets of both worlds. The boy's laughter echoed through Eldoria, a melody that healed wounded hearts. And whenever the moon waxed full, Orion would touch his father's belly, feeling the dormant bud stir with magic.

For in the land of Blossombearers, love transcended boundaries. And as Eirik and Lysander watched their son dance among fireflies, they knew that miracles bloomed even in the unlikeliest of places.

And so, dear reader, if you ever wander into the Whispering Woods, listen closely. You might hear the soft rustle of petals—the echo of a love story that defied fate and birthed magic anew.

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*Note: This tale is purely fictional and meant for entertainment. In reality, male pregnancy remains an imaginative concept, but in the realm of fantasy, anything is possible.* 🌸🌿✨