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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart.

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours.

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog.

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you.

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns.

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses.

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you.

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you.

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday.

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed.

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest.

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of.

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait.

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs.

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours.

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he?

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you.

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him.

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him.

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do.

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it.

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive.

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?”

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it.

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you.

Gojo dips a little lower.

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life.

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you.

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.”

Then he pulls back.

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him.

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings.

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing.

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed.

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it.

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.”

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?”

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.”

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.”

“Still.”

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess.

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring.

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose.

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper.

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer.

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised.

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours.

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?”

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.”

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety.

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back.

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says.

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet.

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away.

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be.

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.”

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him.

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle.

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something.

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory.

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.”

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you.

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say.

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.”

You tilt your head at him curiously.

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows.

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?”

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth.

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it.

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.”

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes.

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind.

You gesture him forward.

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.”

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.”

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough.

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place.

You shouldn’t go.

You can’t risk it.

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation.

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty.

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor.

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence.

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.”

You bite him.

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that? You scared me!”

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.”

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it.

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.”

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security.

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him.

“Gojo?”

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised.

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease.

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze.

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?”

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.”

“Don’t do that,” you gasp.

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?”

You look at the crushed violet in your hand.

Who else but Gojo?

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.”

His eyes soften. He leans closer.

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?”

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever.

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you.

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.”

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck.

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.”

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?”

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully.

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you.

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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icarusignite · 7 months

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i don't want your sympathy (i just want myself back)

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Hypnos! GN! Reader

Summary: Terribly injured after returning from his quest to the Garden of Hesperides, Luke Castellan turns to the only person who can help him sleep. Basically a hurt/comfort shortfic for Luke cuz he needs comforting lol

Word count: 1.7k

The infirmary was a sterile space, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic and tonics. It was mercifully silent, devoid of the Apollo campers who often sporadically visited to check in on whoever occupied the space.

Luke Castellan was the only patient there today, his features twisted in discomfort as he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sunlight streaming in and the room swam into focus, though his thoughts remained muddled, fragmented memories clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He struggled to separate reality from illusion, unsure of which memories were true and which were twisted figments of his nightmares.

Immediately, he became acutely aware of a throbbing ache pulsating through his face. It felt as though his skin had been stretched to its limit, pulled taut over the wound that marred his features. With each breath he took, the pain intensified, a sharp reminder of the injury he had sustained.

The injury he had sustained on the quest he had failed.

His hand instinctively moved to touch the bandages that covered the wound, fingers gingerly tracing the contours of the thick gauze. Beneath the sterile fabric, he could feel the heat radiating from the angry gash, the skin around it tender and inflamed. The cut itself was a jagged slash, stretching from the bottom of his eye to his jawline, and seemed to throb with a life of its own.

The pain made him angry. He was always angry these days, and he had only just returned.

The voices from his dreams still echoed in his head, sinister whispers that promised power and vengeance, their dark allure tempting him to succumb. They spoke to his deepest desires and stoked the flames of his fury in ways that were becoming impossible to ignore.

And then, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, he saw the figure seated by his bedside, their head resting on folded arms, form rising and falling in a steady rhythm of breath. A life, a beacon of familiarity and solace in the midst of his confusion.

It was you. Of course, it was. You had not left his side since he was carried in, broken and bleeding from the camp's border. Your face, though serene in sleep, bore traces of worry and exhaustion, and Luke's heart clenched at the sight, a rush of emotion flooding his senses—gratitude, guilt, longing.

You should not have to worry about him like this, forgoing your own wellbeing to look after him.

You had been there the whole time, a steadfast presence in the chaos that followed his return. He remembered, faintly, the fleeting moments of clarity when his eyes had briefly met yours, finding comfort and reassurance in your gaze before he slipped into unconsciousness once again as his injury was stitched up.

He did not want to disturb you, but he couldn't help himself, his hand reaching out almost as if it had a mind of his own, fingers trembling as he brushed them against your cheek. There was something about you that brought him comfort, something he could not put a name to, but it was instinctual, almost magnetic.

You were peace. You were his peace.

You stirred when made contact, eyelids snapping open instantaneously, filled with concern and affection as you bolted upright in your seat.

"Luke," you breathed, your voice soft and gentle, like a soothing melody amidst the chaos of his mind. "You're awake."

A fragile smile tugged at Luke's lips, and although the gesture hurt, it was worth it to see the brief flash of relief that flooded your features.

"Luke, are you alright?" you asked hurriedly, scrambling from your perch to inspect him. You were no medic but you spent long enough in the infirmary, easing injuries and sending campers off into a peaceful slumber that you had become accustomed to looking for signs of concern.

"I...I'm fine," his voice was hoarse from lack of use, his throat parched, which had you rushing to pour him a cup of water.

"Should I call someone from the Apollo cabin to take a look at your injury?"

Your words washed over him, but your concern was both comforting and frustrating in equal measure. He appreciated your kindness, your willingness to help, but at the same time, he couldn't shake the bitterness that rose in his throat at the thought of being pitied.

If even your gaze was heavy with it, he could not imagine what the rest of camp half-blood would think of him. A failure. A demigod who could not complete a quest that had already been completed once before by another.

"I'm fine," Luke muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. "I don't need anyone fussing over me."

He tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, crumbling under the weight of his conflicting emotions. He didn't want your sympathy, didn't want to be seen as weak or vulnerable. He was Luke Castellan, a fighter, a survivor—he refused to be reduced to a mere object of pity.

Silently he cursed the gods for reducing him to this. His stupid father and his stupid quest.

Still, even as he pushed you away, a part of him longed for your presence, your touch. He couldn't deny the warmth that flooded his heart whenever you were near, the way your smile could chase away the darkness that threatened to consume him.

He had become quite accustomed to being around you over the years, because even though you had been claimed, being the child of a minor god was as good as being the child of nothing, thus cementing your place in the Hermes cabin with him. Another thing to curse the gods for, because if anyone deserved a place to truly belong, it was you, with your kind eyes, and careful hands so eager to help.

He supposed it didn't matter in the end. You had wormed your way into his heart, unbeknownst to him, and if there was one place you surely belonged, it was there.

As you paused in your fussing, your eyes caught the subtle signs of exhaustion etched into Luke's features—the faint shadows beneath his eyes, a telltale sign of restless nights and troubled dreams. Despite the fact that he had been asleep for the better part of the past three days, the toll of his ordeal still lingered, casting a shadow over his weary frame.

"Would you like some help...you know...falling asleep?" you asked gently.

The offer caught Luke off guard, his pride momentarily forgotten in the face of his overwhelming fatigue. A wave of relief washed over him at the thought of finding solace in sleep, of escaping the turmoil of his thoughts if only for a little while longer. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he acquiesced.

"Please," he murmured, the word slipping past his lips with a mixture of gratitude and pain. He shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as he made room for you to join him.

Your cheeks flushed a slight crimson as you took your place, precariously perched at the edge, careful not to jostle and cause him further pain, your gaze meeting his with a clarity that made his heart skip a beat. Then, when you reached out, your hand finding his own with a reassuring touch, it sent a shiver down his spine.

He found his eyes start to grow heavy.

Your touch was warm and comforting, a balm to his weary soul as you ran a hand over his closed eyes, fingers tracing soothing patterns against his skin. The tension in his muscles began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that he hadn't felt in days. He wasn't quite sure if it was the effect of your powers, or just your presence that put him at such ease, but it was magic all the same.

With each stroke of your hand, Luke felt himself drifting further into the embrace of sleep, his mind growing hazy and light. It was a different sort of slumber, one unburdened by the shadows and voices that awaited him in the darkness with dark promise.

When your hand moved through his hair, a sense of familiarity washed over him like a warm tide. The soft melody you hummed resonated deep within him, stirring memories long buried beneath the weight of his pain.

It was a popular tune, one he might have heard before but he couldn't quite place it. Then it came to him, a sharp ache in his chest, not so different from the physical pain in his flesh. His mother used to sing to him like this, during her brief bouts of lucidity, when she wasn't chasing him around the house spouting prophecies of doom and destruction.

He remembered her, her face a blur in the recesses of his mind, her voice a distant echo that whispered of warmth and safety. In those rare moments, she had held him close, her hands running through his hair in much the same way yours did now.

Unbidden, tears slipped from behind Luke's closed eyes, a silent testament to the grief and longing that filled his heart.

"Everything will be alright, Luke," you whispered, wiping his tears before they had a chance to seep into his bandage. "You'll see."

It's a lie. He knew it was a lie. Nothing would ever be alright again, and he would never go back to being the person he used to be, but there was a part of him that wanted to believe her, if only for a fleeting moment.

After all, he was the son of the god of tricksters—a master of deception and illusion. And as he lay there, cradled in your embrace, he couldn't help but succumb to the illusion of peace and comfort that you offered.

For now, with you by his side, he could trick himself into believing that everything would be alright—that the pain and suffering he had endured would soon be nothing more than a distant memory. And as sleep claimed him once more, he clung to that belief, finding solace in the presence of the one person who had never stopped believing in him.

A/N: feel free to send in requests for Luke lol, I'm currently in my brainrot era. Also reblogs/comments are much appreciated as I'd love to know what yall think <3

#icarusignite writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan #pjo tv show #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you

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thefiery-phoenix · 5 months

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Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

#yandere gitae kim #yandere gitae kim x reader #yandere gitae kim scenarios #yandere gitae kim oneshots #yandere gitae kim headcanons #yandere gitae kim x reader scenarios #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism

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astrologanize · 7 months

Text

pick a card : what making out with you feels like for them ᡣ𐭩…

could be someone you're already seeing or your future person, whatever it is...whoever you are asking about...this is what it feels like for them (: *please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

for pile 1 ✩˚

well, hello there. while trying to channel and synthesize this spread i thought about how this pile has something very instinctive going on within the makeout sessions, there's viscera, and cillian murphy came to mind somehow?? he does have a very mars look imo so maybe that's why, but it reminded me of a gif that i believe is from peaky blinders (never seen the show but i exist on tumblr so...) that i will add (it's a lil nsfw i guess?). anyhow. when it comes to your makeouts with this person, it feels like a nice balance of release and control for them because on one hand they do feel very disarmed while making out with you but at the same time they're acting deliberately - which is why instinct is coming through...it's like having a flow of reflexive movement. i'm not seeing you two going crazy and having vigorous kisses, there is a slowness to it, there's a building of inertia. making out with you makes them feel like their life is in their hands, their free will is palpably felt, and it brings out a sort of self-discipline in them

for pile 2 ✩˚

this person looooooves making out with you, they feel like they're having a movie moment when you guys are kissing, and the connection itself is what is at the forefront when they're kissing you. this seems like someone who hasn't had great experiences with romance and making out with you imbues them with so much hope. it's like if this person had a horribly messy breakup a couple years prior, they were with someone for quite a while and it ended up turning into a nightmare that left an ugly mark and they became jaded by it. making out with you feels like a rebirth - they don't feel afraid, they feel uninhibited, their cup is wonderfully full. they are not in the slightest bit doubtful of how they feel for you and they are certain that they want this; when they kiss you it will feel like a sweet plead - please love me back. there is no ego when it comes to kissing you because they are happily willing to give their all. making out with you does help them to move on from any residual gunk they've been dealing with

for pile 3 ✩˚

what is wanting to come through strongly is that this person is the one somehow taking the lead in the makeout session because when they're making out with you they feel firm, they feel empowered, they're like 'i got this'. lol...funnily enough though, whatever it is about making out with you...they don't expect it to go the way it does and it throws them off their game. something about making out with you is new for them, there's a notable oscillation happening within them, an internal battle of hot n cold energy. the makeout session itself won't be all over the place, once you start making out you guys just keep going at a constant and indefinite pace. this person is probably used to getting what they want/doing what they want/being reckless, this person is hardened - they keep their feelings in check and like being in control. & even though they feel in control while making out with you and do like feeling as such, there's something about making out with you that wakes them up and brings out a softer side. making out with you feels like a stream of consciousness for them

for pile 4 ✩˚

this is my fun makeout sesh pile 😛

what you guys say to each other before/during making out is being highlighted so maybe there's some steamy words being exchanged, some sweet talkin' perhaps. y'alls makeout session(s) involves experimenting, it's messy, it's sloppy, there's coloring outside the lines, it's an indulgence and you guys change things up during it. it does seem like this is more casual and that this person might be hesitant to take things further. this may be someone who is really attached to their independence and/or is perpetually single so even though they're having fun with it, they are holding back and not giving their all. making out with you is going to make them try to consider and factor feelings into the equation, they may just take the leap for once

love this song for pile 4

#pick a card #romance #relationships #Spotify

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ancuninfiles · 6 months

Text

Comfort Pt 1. (Revised)

Screenshot by @astarionposting

6.4k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Work summary: Nym, a wood-elf, finds herself thrust into leadership of a ragtag crew. From day one she is overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility. She seeks solace and unexpectedly finds herself drawn to the tent of a pale elf. In the intimacy of their encounter, they both ponder the potential for mutual comfort and connection amidst the chaos of their new journey.

Chapter summary: Nym the Wood Elf finds herself Wild-Shaped in the pale elf's tent, though he is unaware of the strange druid that he's accidentally invited into his dwelling. As they inadvertently share secrets, they discover solace and connection in each other's embrace.

Tags: Smut and Fluff, Druid Tav, Soft Astarion, P in V sex, Oral (female receiving), Wood elf Tav, Blood drinking, Vampire bites, Choking, Light BDSM, Soft dom Astarion, Tav is autism-coded, Creampie, Aftercare, Astarion is a dork

MASTERLIST (Other chapters and works)

Read on AO3 (recommended)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

It was a brisk night in Faerün, and the crisp gentle breeze that whisked through the camp caused the walls of Nym’s tent to expand and contract, almost as if it were alive.

She had gained allies, fellow victims of Mind Flayer parasites, and inexplicably, on the very first day of this ordeal, they had chosen her as their leader, though she couldn’t fathom why.

Nym was chronically indecisive, often unsure even about simple choices, such as which berry to use for jam. Consequently, every jam she made ended up as a mixed-berry concoction.

Over the day, a pounding headache had begun to possess her, and she did not know if this sudden affliction was caused by the unwanted parasite in her brain or the recent stress of her gratuitous position at the helm of her freshly instituted cohort.

"Silvanus, save me," she whispered to herself in quiet prayer as she sat in her tent with folded legs that teetered repetitively with pent-up nervousness.

Nym, ever avoidant, attempted to sort through the folds of her mind, searching for ways to quell her anxious streak.

Make tea? Read a book? Take a warm bath?

But they possessed no tea nor books, and certainly no hot spring.

Nym groaned, carding her fingers through her hair and tugging at her scalp. Whatelsewhatelsewhatelse? Come on, think, she pressed -

Although . . .

Nym was hit with a sudden recollection, one of when she was just a young girl seeking solace away from others.

My cat Wild Shape, she mused.

In the stream of her consciousness, Nym caught glimpses of memories where she pranced on four furry legs, finding solace within the hollows of rotten logs - far removed from the dramas of her people both physically and spiritually.

She doubted that if she were to Wild Shape into a cat and slip into the woods, her newfound acquaintances would even notice her absence; and if they did, she also doubted they would care.

Perfect, Nym thought.

She was resolute in her plan: Slink away for an hour or so. Nym felt confident that she’d be able to avoid any responsibilities, if only for a night.

Cautiously exiting her tent, she slid on her sandals and made her way into the woods, deliberately avoiding any twigs that might find their way between her toes, knowing that the sensation of such a mishap would surely trigger a paroxysm of discomfort within her.

"Argh," she fumed. As if the universe had read her mind and was out to get her, sap found its way into her sandals, and - like clockwork - was sending her teetering over the edge of sanity.

In a rage, Nym’s form became arcane, ripping and contracting violently to suit her new cat shape.

Settling into her brown fur-covered body, Nym’s ears twitched at the high-pitched sounds caused by the bristling branches and whistling wind. These sounds, which would normally calm her frayed nerves, now caused her to vehemently tense her muscles and clench her sharp-toothed maw, unbidden.

Stepping out of her clothes, which pooled at her feet on the dirt-covered forest floor, she gingerly trekked back toward camp.

Surely none of her companions would find it strange to see a cat wandering around the camp. In fact, they would probably just assume she was looking for scraps or hunting for fish down by the river.

As she reached the tree line, she observed that everyone was either gathered around the fire or nestled inside their tents. Grateful for the solitude, she made her way toward the flickering flames, her path taking her past the pale elf's opulent red tent.

She couldn't remember his name. Aster? Asherion? Hmm, she pondered.

He had an air of slight menace, yet his charm couldn't be denied, she reflected. With seemingly a repertoire of sardonic quips at his disposal, he was frequently armed and ready to defuse tension with a well-timed barb, a quality she found rather admirable.

Individuals like him were invaluable in social settings, Nym believed. Her own tendency to feel self-conscious often left her at a loss for words, making her grateful for those adept at breaking the silence and easing the tension.

Gods, it helps to have someone silly with a dark sense of humour to be idiots with.

She wondered if he felt the same way and envisioned them becoming friends, hoping that his presence could alleviate the weight of the horrors they were sure to face; courtesy of the tadpoles nestled happily within their craniums.

She was only mere steps from the crackling fire when she heard a mouse-like sound, summoning her to look back.

To her utter surprise, it was the white-haired elven man, holding his hand out, and rubbing his thumb on his fingers in offering. The look on his face was relaxed with eyes that were slightly widened, contrasting with his otherwise composed expression.

"Psspsspsspsspsssss," the pale elf made the one sound that Nym couldn't resist in her cat form.

Hypnotized by the gesture of his digits and the sound of his call, Nym's feline pupils blew wide, expanding to consume most of her golden irises. Bringing her body tight to the ground, she stalked towards the white-haired elf's tent.

Against her better judgment, she crawled closer to his hand, salivating as she sped up. Finally, she pounced on his hand and wrist, capturing it in a fighter’s hold, ferociously nibbling at his wrist and kicking his hand with her hind legs.

"Ah ah - we ask before we bite," he said, disarming her before gently scratching her soft, fluffy tummy.

Unlatching, she slumped into a purring puddle of fur and slowly closed her eyes as she leaned into the relaxing sensation of his touch.

The grinning elf scooped her onto his lap and into his tent. "You are a very cuddly kitty," he cooed.

He began to pet her, starting at her armpits and making his way up to her fuzzy onyx chin. He rubbed her belly when she rolled over, and even scratched and patted the base of her tail when she rolled back onto her tummy.

Periodically standing up on his lap, she would stretch her front paws up to his chest and nudge his chin with her head.

During her unexpected detour into the stranger’s tent, never once had it crossed her walnut-sized mind that it might be a poor decision, nor a lapse in judgment - no - her focus was solely on the way he tenderly caressed her; blessing her with the comfort that she had yearned for all night. The feeling enveloped her, possessing her mind as if she were a meagre thrall, obedient to its master's every command.

The cat-loving elf showered her with affection for several minutes before relenting; only then did Nym curl up into a ball on his hard, marble chest, peacefully trancing and purring.

She relaxed blissfully, slowly kneading at his chest with her toes and claws, thoughtlessly accepting all of the pets that the gentle pale elf offered.

"Oh kitty, I’ve had a terrible day, you wouldn't believe it,” he whispered, "your snuggles are the highlight of my evening."

He poked her wet nose with a precise, feather-light touch, causing her to twitch her head briefly before settling back comfortably on his chest.

"Do you think people will understand if I bite like you do?" He asked in his most hushed tone yet. "Will people think I'm cute if I bite like you? Gods I'm starving." He threw his unoccupied hand to his face, cupping his nose before dragging it down to his chin, stretching the skin in his wake.

The sound of his hand abruptly making contact with his face, and his odd question stirred Nym from her trance. If I bite like you do - okay? Odd. But then - Gods I'm starving? She pondered his words critically.

Still snuggled up on his chest, she tucked her paws under herself and purred a quiet rumble, contemplating with a person-like capacity for the first time since entering his vermillion candlelit tent.

What an odd thing for one to say. Is he a cannibal? Like the Bhaalspawn type?

She sniffed to test her theory, but his fresh scent of bergamot and rosemary led her to conclude that he was indeed not a Bhaalspawn. What she had read about Bhaalspawn had taught her that a lingering diluted stench of rot always accompanied them.

She quizzed herself, questioning what other creatures consumed the flesh or blood of humanoids, considering zombies or hags; however, upon examining the flawless complexion of the man beneath her, she realized that her hypotheses were impossible.

A vampire? No way. He was in the beating sun when we’d met, and he would’ve been ash before I even got there if that were the case; although . . .

She peered down at his face, looking for what she knew to be the tell-tale signs of a vampire: red eyes, pale skin, and sharp teeth.

Standing on his hard chest, she noticed his eyes were closed.

Despite his peaceful expression, she felt it necessary to disturb his rest - if not to confirm her suspicions, then to set her curious mind at ease.

Ghosting her whiskers over his lips, she successfully stirred him from his evanescent trance

"Oh, kitty - you are so sweet," he squeaked, blinking and sitting up before Nym could properly inspect his irises.

The handsome man set her down beside him and stretched his arms, first grasping one elbow and then the other, accompanied by a bend of his torso.

Standing in the pale elf’s blankets, she peered up to his candlelit face which, much to her dismay, bore two garnet-coloured eyes.

Well - if he doesn't have fangs, he could be part drow

Without missing a beat, he flashed her a toothy grin, revealing his long, sharp canine teeth.

The sudden realization caused panic to surge through her; if what she knew of the Vampyre held true, the beautiful elven man would surely make a meal of her.

Arching her back, Nym’s fur stuck straight out in all directions.

The stranger did not notice, for he was gazing in the other direction.

"Well kitty, time for me to start getting ready to rest," he said with a smile as he took off his night-shirt, exposing his toned muscles that rippled under lightly freckled ivory skin. His thumbs slid under the waistband of his breeches, making his next move all too clear: he was going to remove his trousers.

Nym wasn't the most socially aware, but she knew it was exceedingly inappropriate to gaze upon someone's nude form without their knowledge; an act known as peeping, she recalled, remembering a passage she’d read on the topic once before.

Just as he was readying himself to stand and pulling his pants past his hip bones, Nym panicked and, on impulse, arcanely ripped herself back into her regular humanoid self.

She had dismissed her Wild Shape, leaving her bare-bodied and trembling before the half-naked vampire.

They both screamed, their voices overlapping, before instinctively moving to cover each other's mouths with their hands. Then, a heavy silence descended as they locked eyes, both filled with terror.

"What was that? Is everyone okay?" Yelled the wizard from his tent.

The pale elf vehemently tore Nym’s hand from his mouth. "Yes, Just practicing for the opera!" He yelled while rolling his eyes before looking at her with downward-canting brows, a deep frown painting his face.

"I see. Maybe save it for tomorrow instead of waking everyone at camp, thank you," spoke the wizard once more.

Nym couldn't help but giggle under his palm; perhaps her worry was all for naught, as his playful fib toward the wizard had served to remind her of the lighthearted demeanour he'd shown all day.

Suddenly becoming too aware of her nudity, she pulled away from his palm, hugging her knees to her chest. She would have rather planned to be naked in front of him; instead, she’d transformed and had yet to learn how to do so while maintaining her clothed state.

"Can I - er - have that blanket for a moment, please," Nym asked, shyly.

The pale elf scoffed. "Fine, but only because I am such a gentleman - Godsdamned druids." He gave her the blanket and she prudently draped it over her shoulders and around her knees.

"I - um - I'm really sorry," she apologized, her gaze falling and her cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

The handsome elf pinched his brow ridge between his finger and thumb, closing his eyes and scrunching his face in a scowl. "Why did you let me go on for so long, believing you were a real cat?"

As he spoke, Nym looked at him, but when she began to ponder the answer to his question, her gaze fell once more.

"I guess it's just that when I Wild Shape, sometimes the instincts of whatever animal I turn into take over me; like I'm not in control," she explained, "You summoned me with your - bewitching gestures and sounds.” Her face screwed up as she recalled his actions.

The pale elf covered his face with both hands as if trying to hide his embarrassment. "Oh, Gods - save me for once. Please just this once."

Witnessing his expression, Nym felt a pang of guilt; nevertheless, as the leader, she knew she had to be open with him about her conclusions on his vampiric affliction. Still, her resolve warred with embarrassment, causing her already poor communication skills to fray ever so slightly.

"I - er - heard what you said about biting and what-not," Nym said, pushing past her nervousness, "And your eyes! Your teeth - well. . . Also, I forgot your name; what was it again? Asherton?"

He ran both hands through his hair, gripping his scalp as his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened, fixed on the tent floor.

"This isn't happening," he said, voice cracking, "No - this isn't real. I must be having a nightmare or - something."

Nym internally scrutinized his frantic demeanour, her frustration mounting as she sensed her words falling on deaf ears. "Rah,” she groaned, “I said I'm sorry and it's okay that you're toothy and bitey," she snipped.

For some reason, she felt oddly comfortable around this man - this creature - who could easily rip her throat out.

He breathed deeply, sighing on the exhale. "Astarion."

"A'staring at what? I'm sorry - I'll look away," said Nym, turning her head sideways, hoping to make him feel more comfortable.

"No, you blubbering idiot. That's my name - my name's Astarion," he quipped.

"Oh - uh - so can I look at you or not?" She asked him in earnest.

"If a wall were nearby, I would smash my head against it," Astarion confided.

"Why would you do that?” Nym prodded, looking at him quizzically.

Astarion stared daggers at her, mouth agape and brows knitted together.

. . .

A pregnant silence blanketed the duo, stirring unease within Nym.

"I should go,” she professed, readying herself to stand and pinching his beige blanket together near her décolleté.

As she turned to his tent flap, she felt a cool hand grasp her arm, engendering her to look back.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

"Wait!" Astarion pleaded.

By the time the word left his mouth, it had been too late to mask the desperation in his tone.

Seeking reparation, Astarion intentionally lowered his volume. "Look - I just need more details on what you found out about me," he spoke with a serious intonation, tilting his head down and gazing up at her through his eyelashes.

Nym turned to face him, still draped in his taupe blanket like a cloak. "Oh - well... I might have concluded that you’re a vampire, but it confuses me that you can walk in the sun." Her words tumbled out quickly, driven more by her curiosity than by fear of the monster before her.

As Astarion forced a smile, he expelled a sigh tinged with frustration.

"Ah - okay, glad we've cleared that up. Now, is there any chance that you could keep those pretty little lips of yours shut about this specific topic with the others? I would much rather broach the topic myself," he said, letting go of her forearm.

She blinked rapidly, as if trying to process his words, her expression shifting from confusion to mild offence.

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone,” she reassured, her voice softening with each word. “I have the feeling that you're not dangerous; well - not dangerous to us at least."

"What?" His eyes widened in mock horror. "I'll have you know I am very dangerous, actually." He smiled, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement.

"I know! That’s not what I mean, though. I’m realizing that I think you wouldn’t hurt me; am I correct?" Nym asked, only somewhat fearing what the answer might be.

Astarion pursed his lips to the side and held his chin in thought. "Hmm."

Releasing his chin, he scanned Nym’s form, his eyes roving up her body and then landing on her face. This could be an opportunity, he thought.

In an instant, he turned on his charm, honed over two hundred years of courting partners to bring back to his master in Bladur’s Gate.

Flashing her a roguish grin, he started, "Not unless you want me to," he said before leaning in close to Nym, his lips nearly brushing on her ear, "darling."

His last word was spoken like an enchantment, sending a pleasant chill down her spine and causing her to shiver, unbidden.

Nym froze in place, her face reddening deeply. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that," she exclaimed.

"I recall you biting me without asking, dear." He snaked his right hand to the back of her head, fingers gently running through her hair. "Do you remember what I told you?"

Nym gulped and gazed at his handsome, pale face, mere centimetres from hers - her heart beating quickly as if she were merely a rabbit in the jaws of a sly fox. Despite her increased heart rate, she instinctively held her breath as he toyed with her locs. "To ask before I bite," she said, unsure if she was about to become his meal or his lover.

"Good girl. Now - it would only be right of me to follow my own rules, correct?" Astarion’s voice resonated in a low tenor, his eyes fixed on her expression as he gingerly massaged the back of her scalp.

Relieved, Nym's head lolled back into his tender touch.

"Mmmyeah," the words spilled from her lips like a moan.

Astarion leaned in once again, this time ghosting his lips on her throat beneath her ear and bringing his unoccupied hand to the small of her back, nudging her closer. "So - what do you say? May I? I only need a taste - I swear," he purred into her neck.

"You can do whatever you want with me if you keep touching me like that." Entranced by his decadent ministrations, the pale elf had disarmed her yet again.

Whatever I want? He thought, pulling away and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Darling - are you sure about this? We might get carried away, and we've only just met."

Astarion thought that she might allow him to drink from her; his charm rarely failed him, but he didn’t expect her to offer her body as well. A pleasant surprise, considering that he’d fantasized about taking her on the cliffside when they’d just met. The way her bottom squirmed against his groin while he held a dagger to her throat, and the scent of her blood blooming beneath the surface of the skin on her neck was enough to cause his length to strain against his smallclothes.

“Among my people, such matters hold little importance,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll gladly partake if that’s what you desire; though I may still yearn for it even if you don’t, but that doesn’t mean that you must—” He silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips, and she gazed up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?" He asked, aiming for straightforwardness.

Her speech was muffled by the digit pressed to her lips. "Yes, actually. Usually, they say that I talk too much, but—" Suddenly, Astarion’s lips met hers in a bruising kiss, silencing her once again. He seized the back of her neck and drew her close as he ascended to his knees, looming over her and dominating her mouth.

Nym whined small sounds of pleasure into his mouth as he pulled her taut to his chest, causing the blanket to fall from her shoulder ever so slightly.

With a pop, he broke the kiss, licking his lips as he studied her expression.

Her heavy-lidded eyes met his, and her lips were reddened from their kiss.

"You know. . . I rather like you, my dear," he said, holding her closely. "Now - how about we make ourselves comfortable."

Astarion released her and gestured to his bedroll.

"Oh - Yes," she answered, carelessly dropping the blanket covering her and crawling hastily to his suggested destination.

She hesitated. "Wait - how do you want me?"

He felt a rush in his lower abdomen that made his growing cock twitch."My sweet - if you wouldn't mind lying beneath me, I would be delighted. It will also help when I'm drinking from you; we wouldn't want you toppling over, would we?"

"Right." Nym nodded curtly and positioned herself on the bedroll, still sitting.

Astarion mounted her with a fervent kiss, coaxing her downwards and parting her thighs with his knee. Pushing her legs up to expose her core, he positioned himself fully between her legs, only breaking their kiss to sit back on his knees and take her in.

He stared at her with adoration as he appreciated the shape of her body.

Despite getting on his nerves earlier, he respected her openness and willingness to confess her discovery. Her promise to keep his secret was likely crucial to his survival, and he desired her loyalty, giving him another reason to seduce her and gain her support.

Additionally, he couldn't help but admit to himself that her playful demeanour was extremely endearing; it wasn't often that he would meet someone charming in the way that Nym was.

He desperately wanted her blood; not only because he craved it physically, but also because of the assurance it would provide that he was free from Cazador's compulsion at last.

But then, he yearned to make her come undone beneath him; to feel her quivering around his length and hear her whimper his name in ecstasy; surely for no other reason than to stroke his ego, he reflected as his member strained uncomfortably against his strays.

Nym lay comfortably exposed, her arms resting beside her head while her chest rose and fell with anticipation. Trusting him came intuitively, as she bared her most vulnerable parts to this man who, just moments ago, still felt like a stranger.

They had only met that day, and now, in the quiet of the night, while everyone else slept, they were about to become one.

Squeezing her thighs, Astarion placed his face at her core, his breath teasing her quim.

Reading her face, he witnessed her wet, pleading eyes.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he asserted.

"Of course," she managed to say despite her desirously clouded mind.

"Perfect," Astarion cooed.

He began his plot, licking a thick stripe through her folds and kissing her clit, causing Nym to throw her head back as she moaned.

Her sounds encouraged him to start toying with her clit with his tongue.

She arched her back and bucked wildly onto his tongue, but he held her down to regain control and she groaned through gritted teeth.

He removed his mouth, replacing his tongue with a digit as he stroked her inner walls languidly.

“Careful dear, I have sharp teeth," he warned. "Be a good girl and try to hold still."

"Mhm," was all she could manage to say as she clenched around his finger.

He continued his oral ministrations, groaning into her clit as he sucked on it mercilessly which sent waves of pleasure through her body; although not quite enough to fully satisfy her.

"I need more - please," she pleaded.

Needing no further invitation, he added a second finger to her hole, causing her pelvis to squirm and wanton sounds to spill from her lips.

Curling his fingers, he pumped into her at a consistent pace while lapping up her clit.

The tips of his digits stroked up into her sweet spot, sending her teetering over the edge.

Glancing down at Astarion, she carded her fingers through his moon-coloured curls.

The muscles in her legs tensed as she felt a rising energy in her core. "I'm cumming, Astarion!" She screamed as her orgasm crested, her voice echoing throughout the camp.

He continued fucking her with his hand and torturing her oversensitive nub as she rode out her climax.

Flooded with searing pleasure, she sought reprieve. "Ah - too much!" She hissed.

"Good girl, you are so good at following instructions," Astarion purred, crawling to meet her lips in a brief and tender kiss.

"I'm surprised you remembered my name, darling. I'm impressed," he jested before pushing down his pants just enough to free his large member which rested heavily on her soaking cunt.

She let out a huff of air as she felt his length weigh on her bud. “I certainly don't have the will to protest you right now," she retorted, lying breathless.

Astarion staggered his elbows on either side of her torso, studying her features again; this time, his gaze reflecting not just curiosity, but also a subtle hint of confusion, as if grappling with the capricious nature of his own actions rather than their usual conniving intent.

"Mm - you can stare if you want, but—" She wriggled her hips, teasing his cock.

He choked out a moan, his mouth forming an “O”.

"Oh, you cheeky little pup," he crooned.

"I remember you calling me 'kitty', actually," she teased, smirking.

"You’ll pay for that,” he growled as he reached for his shaft and aligned himself with her core, grinning whilst prodding at her tight entrance with the tip of his cock.

She expelled a high-pitched moan, her face twisting into a needy expression.

Slowly entering her while she twirled her hips sensually, he felt her wetness tightening around him.

Head lolling forward, he eased into her with little effort until he was fully buried to the hilt and his tip kissed her cervix snugly, causing him to choke out an undignified groan.

She enthusiastically shifted her legs up above his arms, her feet dangling in the air above him.

He began with a painfully languid pace, whining in tandem as their lips connected in a passionate, messy kiss.

Their tongues danced around each other's mouths, fighting for dominance as he unhooked one of her legs from his arm and grabbed her cheeks, roughly prying her mouth open further; consequently, her nethers contracted around him.

Ever perceptive, he recognized this before pulling his mouth from hers. "Does the little druid like it rough?" He teased.

"Uhuh," she whined. "Can you choke me - please?" She pleaded with moist, batting eyes, her upward-canted brows reading as desperation on her freckled face.

He groaned excitedly at her lewd suggestion, a sly grin painting his face.

Hearing her desire stirred something within him, prompting him to contemplate his incessant longing for control, freedom, and dominance; concepts that melded together in his mind as if it were a swirling brew - both saccharine and intoxicating.

"Deep breath, my dear," he instructed while thrusting into her consistently.

Nym took a deep breath, making her experience on the matter clear.

Astarion grasped the sides of her throat firmly, causing her quim to quiver violently around his cock.

"What a good little druid, you are," he purred.

He began to rut into her punishingly, using his grip on her throat to thrust with uninhibited force as he rhythmically pulled and pushed her on and off of his length.

He straightened the arm that was at her throat, parting his torso from hers and placing his unoccupied hand on her clit where he rubbed taut circles.

Nym's face became a darker red than her typical blush; evidence of the lack of oxygen reaching her brain.

Her leg muscles showed the impending signs of an orgasm while her back arched off the bedroll, but he slammed into her throbbing cunt and circled her bud remorselessly. He basked in the control that had been gifted to him; no - the control he took of his own volition.

She choked out his name, crying in pleasure as she came with his hand around her throat.

He continued toying with her clit as he removed his hand from her neck, the flush on her skin beginning to fade ever so slightly, being freed from his grasp.

While she rode out her climax, he hooked her right leg over his left shoulder, hovering closer to her throat and blithely pulling her head to the side with a strong grasp of her cheeks.

He sunk his fangs into her flesh, only removing his hand from her cheeks to cavalierly grab at the hair on the back of her head.

With a low tenor, he groaned deeply into her neck, fucking her with a faltering pace, signifying his escalating pleasure.

Her delectable blood pooled into his mouth, enrapturing him with its ambrosius flavours.

Whimpering softly, Nym wriggled on his growing cock in an attempt to escape the abuse on her clit. Thankfully, Astarion freed her bud from his tortuous touch - seemingly as a result of her body language.

Nym carded her fingers through his soft white curls encouragingly, relishing in its silken texture and herbaceous scent.

Sifting through her recollections, she recognized that the elven man whose fangs were piercing her flesh was undeniably the most beautiful she had ever bedded. This was no small feat, considering her many previous lovers, sometimes in pairs or more, all of whom had been remarkably attractive.

Although somewhat painful for a moment, letting him sup from her felt curiously wholesome, as if she were helping a dear friend in need.

She allowed him to imbibe as he soothingly rolled his tongue. He continuously impaled her with his expanding girth, sending her into a blissful stupor that she knew could only be enhanced by one gesture.

"Could you cum for me - please?" Nym slurred her words, hoping he was lucid enough to hear her request.

Within a few moments, Nym felt the tickle of his murmured agreement against her sensitive neck.

An escalating symphony of wet slapping noises and moans coursed through the camp before Astarion snapped his hips into Nym's core; bottoming out as he drank from her neck and overflowing her with his seed.

He shallowly thrust a few more times, thoroughly imbuing her with his jism; his latch on her throat, unrelenting.

Nym, although sated, began to feel herself weakening, as the corners of her vision grew spotty: the telltale signs of blood loss.

Knowing this, she resolved to withdraw her consent at last, and hoped that he would hear her soft voice.

"Astarion, please - stop,” she cooed, tugging gently at the curls on the nape of his neck.

At first, nothing. . .

But then - Astarion jostled as if gearing up to release her.

Taking one last gulp, he somehow found the will to tear himself from her - his fantasy of control coming to a not-unpleasant end.

Panting instinctively, he craned his head into her neck. With the flat of his trembling tongue, he cleaned her wounds, making sure to not waste even a drop of her precious ichor before kissing her chastely; a formality, surely, and not as a lover's gesture, he thought.

Nym hummed, rotating her hips around Astarion's still-hard cock which he had yet to remove.

Grunting, he lifted his head from her neck, grabbing her hips with both hands before thrusting into her once more - as a final treat; for himself or his lover, he did not know.

He placed his hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her into a sloppy, exhausted kiss. They moaned into one another before swiftly breaking away and sharing a seemingly deep, affectionate glance.

"As much as it’d be nice to continue, I fear I’ll be too sore tomorrow if we plan on doing this again," Nym confided, sighing.

"It seems you are as eager as I - you sweet thing," Astarion professed, finally pulling out of her body while they mutually sighed.

"Now - kitty - shall I grab your blankets and tuck you in to spend the rest of your night with me? After we clean you up, of course," he suggested, as it only made sense, of course.

Blushing, Nym fought back a precipitous grin. "I really fucking like you, you know. You're my favourite."

"The feeling is quite mutual, If you couldn't tell already,” he exclaimed, pecking her forehead before giving her head a condescending scratch. "Right then, I'll be right back."

Astarion swiftly tucked himself into his pants and nicked his best handkerchief before rising from his tent to find the kettle. Grateful that the water was still warm, he soaked his handkerchief before prudently ringing it out.

Bringing the soft, damp fabric back to his tent, he somehow felt whelmed, knowing that a beautiful woman was waiting for him; an abstract concept to him, considering he'd only been a means to an end for centuries.

He felt so very gracious for her generosity, but he knew that these things often come with a price. He was indebted, and he wanted to repay her for her favour, but perhaps sex was enough.

Of course, he enjoyed himself, certainly worlds more than he had during any of his previous trysts; Hells, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had an orgasm that torridly intense, or if he'd ever had one like that at all.

Crouching into his crimson tent, handkerchief in hand, he greeted Nym. "Hello, there." He forced a smile, as his mind still swam with anxiety.

"Hi, Astarion. Long time, no see,” she said, giggling at her own joke.

"You are quite the silly one. I'm becoming very fond of that laugh of yours." Astarion confessed.

"Hmm - well, you make me giggle a lot, too, if you haven't noticed." She winked cheekily as the corner of her lip pulled up.

"Oh, I cause you to make all sorts of noises, apparently,” he teased, "Now let me help you wash up."

She huffed a close-lipped laugh while a smile painted her lips.

A tender moment between two strangers who had sought comfort in the form of connection.

Nym believed that moments like these were just as nature intended, for those were the teachings of Silvanus.

Astarion wiped Nym down with his soft cloth, taking care to be both thorough and gentle.

Nym turned her bottom to him, so he used his free hand to briefly massage her backside; a gesture that felt more sensual rather than sexual. Nym hummed, leaning into his touch.

Astarion, feeling satisfied with his efforts, left the tent again to rinse his cloth in the river and hang it up outside his tent in a somewhat obscured location. He stalked over to Nym's tent to gather her belongings, which there were few of, managing to snag a couple of blankets, a pillow, and an unopened glass bottle of water.

He strode back to his tent, clumsily opening the flap with his hand that was also fisting the neck of the water bottle.

Upon entering, he saw Nym who was lying belly-down on his things. “I hoped that you’d had more blankets, but it seems as though we'll have to add it to our shopping list," he stated, mournfully.

"We? Oh - it’d be so pleasant to have assistance with that. I've been finding this whole ‘leader’ thing quite overwhelming." Nym confessed, laughing nervously.

"Well, apologies. I should’ve offered to help you sooner. I may be a monster but I'm not a bum. I can't say the same for our other ‘companions’, however,” he quipped.

Smiling brightly at Astarion, Nym rolled onto her back. "You're not a monster, you're just a bit toothy. I can be toothy sometimes, and I don't think I'm a monster."

"Hmm - well you are only slightly devious so I suppose they would make an exception in the famed Guide to Monsters." He joked.

Dropping the fixings, he began to undress himself, fully.

"Oh, stop. You love me." She jested with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Maybe a little. I do have an appreciation for pretty morsels with claws." He attentively and tactfully placed each blanket atop one another.

Kneeling beside her head, he gestured, "Up." She lifted her head slightly and he tucked her pillow under it with care.

Opening the blankets, he climbed in next to Nym, now lying on her back with her eyes closed while her hands rested lazily on her ribcage. He nudged and caressed her cheek with his knuckle before ghosting a thumb over her lips.

Languidly turning to face him, she opened her eyes, her gaze holding a gentle and weary look.

She snaked her hand up to his ear, caressing it affectionately, engendering him to close his eyes as he basked in her loving touch; a feeling that he hadn't had the opportunity to feel for as long as he could remember.

Unbidden tears formed behind his closed eyes as a fragment of his recent past surfaced in his memories; though he quickly pushed the thought aside, regaining his composure.

If Nym noticed his tearful display, she didn't press.

Maybe in time, as they grew more acquainted, he could open up about his past, and perhaps she, along with the rest of their cohort, could offer him support. But for now, he focused on cherishing this tender moment with his newfound friend.

They lay entwined with one another, trancing until the sun came up.

Despite their predicament, in a way, they both felt it a blessing that they had found one another. The bond that had begun forming between them felt promising, in a way that could make both of them stronger. This was a good thing.

Comfort can be a good thing.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤,

𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℑ𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔲𝔯,

𝔞 𝔰𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢

𝔅𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔞 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢

𝔖𝔬 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔢

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

Read part 2

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #bg3 fanfic #astarion x druid tav #astarion x original female character #astarion headcanons #astarion fanfiction #astarion hurt/comfort

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the-monkeies-girl · 3 months

Text

The Grim Reaper. ( Noa x Human!Reader. ) Part Eleven.

the series is not done GUYS I PROMISE AND IM SO SORRY

Title: The Grim Reaper. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications, injury, mentions of blood. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 8.5K+ ( it was previously 7.6 who the hell allowed this CHANGE ) Summary: Bargaining was always a great tool to use in the face of death. Meeting on the brink was less favorable. READ THE SERIES HERE.

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The ground was more fervently lush below your feet than you had ever experienced, letting your toes seep into the delectable grass that tickled between your toes. Such a strange and exhilarating feeling, so clean and incredibly simple but all you wanted to do was roll onto it and consume it with all your might. Crisp and cool, your body angling itself downwards so you could flush your hand against the tender landscape and like your feet that were planted, you wanted your fingers to do the same as you dug them in, getting a wonderful waft of nothing but Earth that catapulted your senses to the highest bid of Heaven that was imaginable, fathomable or even obtainable in the Human consciousness.

Drawing yourself into a small sigh, your gaze flittered across the leafy landscape and took in the minute details of the breeze pushing itself in and out of the the conifers that lined the meadow you were so familiar with, this time being coated with a honey sensation that made it feel like it was a hot afternoon but the atmosphere was only a notch above timid and wasn’t sticky or uncomfortable to exist in.

The mild rushing of water captivated you long enough to look in the direction of the moisture that suddenly enthralled your entire being. If your mind were able to race itself to the torrent of whitened water against the shoreline, you would but it felt like you were in a dream, the way your body brought itself back up and leveraged into the space it needed to consume, the way your feet that had been so deliciously dipped into the dirt below began moving, one step at a time until they all subsequently became one languid stride. You… You had been here before, this exact moment.

Noa… You wanted to cry upon seeing the blanketed nature of his fur, so enticing to grasp and hold onto in a desperate plea to keep you from floating off into a realm of the unknown. You had been here before, Noa… Had… His ears must have picked up on the twig that suddenly appeared below your right foot and despite already standing, it felt like you were just pushing yourself to do just that, your knees popping under your weight as you made a quickened dash towards him as he had himself situated at the embankment of the river you so often took pleasure and solace in together, deep in the trenches of acute conversations, lingering words that meant more than either party were willing to admit at the time. Yes… Yes. Yes…

Noa knew you would follow him in this moment, your lips parting as you came rounding the Ape who was crouched near the stream, his fingers dipping into the cold water and taking in notes of the way that the current felt between his fingers. “Have you felt it?”

That was your voice speaking but it didn't feel like your throat had vocalized anything as you bent down beside him, body movements not feeling like your own but you knew they were as you reached up and placed a hand against your jugular. Had you just spoken? You must have…Maybe you were just tired and things in the word you were around were sorrowed by the need to sleep in more, to pull yourself into the nest and tightly wrap yourself into the darkness of the animal pelts and rest until you felt better, until this innate sense of deja vu passed and left you feeling like a normal a whole person again.

Skin tearing itself apart on the surface as you rubbed his shoulder, his fur licking at your senses and driving them into slow and dashed overdrive, your mouth parting as if you knew what his answer was going to be because you did. You had been here before, this drip in the eternal stream that flowed so carelessly in front of you, never asking for anything in return, but always keeping blackmail in case it needed to hurt you.

Noa only tilted his head out of the corner of your eye, feigning ignorance to your inquiry. “Felt?”

“Romantic love.”

He was going to drag himself into contemplation as he enjoyed the water, Noa always falling into that line when you and he had these conversations of Echo behavior and Echo Logic. Even now, in the dream-like state, it needed to be the same, it always was the same… Would it… Make any difference now if he knew how much you loved him? Would it make him feel any differently towards you if he knew, if you told him and laid yourself out for rejection? Would it put him in a stupor of surprise, unknown territory that you both wanted to travel together no matter the outcome because the feeling had been silently acknowledged the last few times you had met? Would Noa feel feral with want, his eyes casting their beautiful green color that rivaled even the enviest of grass right along your jugular?

The Chimp would push away anyone from you he deemed a threat, he would tear their faces off, the pit of his stomach melting into aggravated and cruel dissatisfaction in himself for never saying the words in the first place, the first time that you had met here and the first time that the question you asked was posed. Noa’s fingers dug into the palm of his hands to distract himself from the idea that you did not feel the same way giving off the impression that having you so near was unfavorable. That your scent was not what he needed, that your Echoness… Was not what he wanted.

Would it… Lifting your hand up, you were surprised at the action in itself as you could have sworn this was just a dream, this was just a moment of recollection in extreme vividness and you should not have been able to move on your own. Lightly, your hand placed itself against the side of his face, heart racing with the knowledge that Noa was able to sense it through the bottoms of his flattened feet, through the subtle motion of your pulse against your wrist. Would it make him lose control? Bite my arm, you whispered to him and let your fingers sink into the fur that bordered his face, your hand heady with intent. Bite the space between my shoulder blades, please… Take me by the hair and make me mine, Noa… Noa…

The stares that he had given you for so long, finally being returned now as Noa turned his expression towards you, unbiased and willing to let you touch him for as long as you needed as if he himself were having a hard time telling if you were living in reality or not. Your stares towards him…They were always noticed, even when you tried to play coy. Breath hitching in your throat at the pure intensity that flurried like electricity was shooting between the two of you, Noa tilted his head with a bit more passion.

We are here… You and I, the motion said. Don’t leave now... No longer stretching out silent and afraid, you brought his face inwards, your feet tethering themselves dangerously close to the embankment, feeling the shift of loose gravel under you as you felt him loosen control of his body and Noa fell into the shallow water below where your fingers had briskly touched for the first time what seemed like years ago…

How you would follow him anywhere he went, your mind floated, flushing yourself against him as your thighs tucked near the sides of his pelvic bone, body ignoring the chill as the water rushed against Noa’s back, swimming his fur artistically around him like a small boat. It was crystal clear, shallow like a small puddle. Your wet hands planted themselves firmly on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under the pads of your fingers as you felt sheer satisfaction run wild in your nerves. His scar, the way that the fur tapered into his skin before flushing with coarseness. Bringing your lips down, you kissed it slowly, lingering and smothering to Noa who had nothing to hide anymore. Noa knew the answer now… Noa felt he always knew the answer… “Yes.” Tell me more, you thought to yourself and mimed his action when he reached to grasp one of your thighs to keep you situated on top of him, the hand on his chest trailing downwards, through the thinned nature of his waist and taking in any crevice you were able to feel under the thickets of fur that tastefully drenched his entire body, now wet from the stream, and without a conscious of its own. Like you had played with the small pebbles the first time, you were now catering your touch to Noa himself, his conscious thought reacting to even the smallest of grazes.

Noa moved himself, reaching his free hand from your body to rest on your face, his thumb swiping right under your eye and giving the impression of faux tears when he tore that away and brought it downwards to dip at your lips. Leathery skin caressed the smoothness, tracing the delicate lines and tugging on your bottom lip to get a glimpse at your blunted teeth.

“Have you…” That was said softer than he had meant, knowing what he was doing with his touch and having let it fester for so long, Noa wanted to take it in as slowly as possible to savor it in case it was a dream. Tongue peaked out for a moment as you licked the very tip of his thumb that lingered near your bottom lip, his eyes sharped at the sight and he raised his hips that were anchoring you to him. “Have you felt?”

A gasp exploded straight from the back of your throat at his motion, stirring you to grasp the fur near his navel in an attempt to riddle yourself of the feeling creeping around your thighs, the cloth of your pants sticking to your skin and traced with the current of water and Noa’s fur that was shuffling. Desperation ran rampant, you wanted to feel him, wanted to have him for yourself. You’d be the one to sink your teeth into Noa’s innocent neck, you’d be the one to hold him to you and protect with all your might and get him to say your name like a muffled chant.

Tracing downwards, you felt his hand at the base of your neck where your collarbones connect and instead of moving away as he would have done normally, Noa continued onwards down your white faded t-shirt and wet the fabric with enough moisture that it clung to your sunken skin to give him the faintest outline of your sternum and dip of your breasts. Breathing seemed impossible as you clutched him that much tighter, wanting nothing more than to shed your clothing, piece by terrible piece, just to feel how hot and hard he truly was against you, something that was explicit in only your dreams. You needed to touch him, hand racing itself between your legs to grasp. Just one more time. One more… One more…

One more… “Yes.”

There was a surged snap as you tore at the band around his waist without hesitation, watching as the lined twine ran with the current of the river, a sea of blue and white now encased with a piece of the Ape below you. It was not important to him any longer, both of Noa’s hands reaching up and grasping at your hips. Without hesitation as you had been when you touched his fingers the first time in the same water that was drenching you, Noa had you flipped and pushed into the sediment below, only your lower halves resting in the water now. The whiteness of your t-shirt were scorned with dirt and mud, Noa’s eyes able to see the pure outline of your chest and the pit in his stomach dropped even further than his diaphragm, closer to the primal intent and notions he had towards you that were kept under lock and key.

Noa’s hands adjusted your frame under him before he grasped at the dirt at either side of your head to keep him leveraged, your eyes capturing the way that the mud and pebbles slipped between his thick fingers in eager anticipation as you imagined him dragging mud along your entire being, encasing you in it and in turn, when you had his way with you, it would press imprints into his fur and you’d make him yours in return. You could hear the tingling of the dirt move as he sunk his claws in, driving his hips forward against your clothed lower body. Groaning wildly at that, you hands drove themselves into his forearms, straight to the skin and seemed to bi-pass any of his fur.

“How… Did it feel?”

Mouth dry, you brought your tongue out to wet them and slid your eyes shut as Noa placed a rather rhythmic pace of breathing above you, seeking to keep himself in a ration mindspace instead of tearing you apart as he so wanted to do in the moment that he had heard that delicious growl sprout from the back of your throat.

“It feels…”

Confusing, Noa would have guessed, dropping a hand as he kept himself from crushing you with one of his hands, a true and savory testament to the fact that he was incredibly strong and only chose to use it in the moments that he felt were needed and grasped the back of your neck to keep you comfortable. That was what you had said before when this conversation first took place. Confused, to which Noa repeated it and beckoned you silently to explain.

“Amazing.”

With your head tilted back in exaltation, Noa spurred himself downwards and with the help of his hand raising your neck in conjecture, his muzzle tickled at your throat. The lines of your jugular, always so far away from him, were suddenly so close… So near… Baring his teeth, Noa’s eyes slid shut, lids fluttering in exhilaration at the taste that exploded into his mouth. So sweaty like you had been nervous to see him, so tender like the most perfectly roasted Elk, so… so carnally sweet like he’d just picked himself a mango and tore into the pulp with his sharpened canines.

“A-Amazing…” It was your turn to repeat yourself as you arched against him, hands rising and grasping at the back of his neck to keep him smothered against him. “Noa…” He’d never heard his name so desperately said before, your mouth opening for him and only him as he intended.

Your legs tangled themselves around his waist to keep him leveraged against you as your hands tore into the fur of his taut neck, feeling the muscles shift under your touch with intense scrutiny. There was always that budding fear in your mind that he was able to crush you with one fist. That one hand was going to cause you to die. That you… Would let him, you thought and slid your eyes shut once more as Noa’s wrought hips connected to yours once more.

Your ribs could be crushed by his weight and you’d let him, your hands spiraling down and tightly affixing themselves into his shoulder blades. His hand could hold your entire neck and in one action of pleasure, he could take you out and you’d let him, knowing that you had died under his gaze, enough satisfaction to last more than one lifetime. Feelings you didn't know the reasons behind, touches you felt should have repulsed any other Human… But Noa… A groan escaped your lips again, only this one was harsher as you felt radiating notions of agony encasing your head, following down into your lungs like you were being drowned to death by the Ape above you. “I don’t want to leave…” You whispered, feeling a few tears hit the back of your eyelids at the lingering sensation of pain that started to dull itself along your splintering hairline. “Noa, I’m not ready…” Noa… only hushed you with a small seeth, as your neck was caressed and he brought your head head upwards to the point where he was able to press his forehead against yours, tendering and sealing with a promise that this moment was not just your imagination. He had brought you here, you had brought yourself here… Your solace, your friend, your words lingering in the universe and repeating themselves over and over again.

Love doesn’t need to be understood, love just needs to be embraced. And it was, you realized with ample eyes as flashes of white began hitting your irises. Embraced and then crumbling right before you with no tools to help you clean up afterwards. A chortled cry left your lips as you tried to cling to Noa, trying to hold onto some semblance of the moment to remember it as you were being viciously taken away. You… Didn't want to leave him… Your eyes squeezed shut in adamance. You couldn’t leave him. Your fingers felt tense in the fur you had made their home, your legs falling into the crashing water below and you were unable to move them, and upon inspection as your eyes drew from the soft familiarity of Noa’s face so near your own, you were seeing red. Red from the wounds on your calves, red on your hand as you drew it up to meet your gaze, from the ricocheting wound on his shoulder.

Noa… He was completely lifeless against you suddenly, your body taking the brute force of it and you were being suffocated without reserve. “N-No…” Crying, you tried to push him off of you so you could see his face again, but it was digging itself into the ground near the bend of your neck. There was no way you were getting out, no way to help him… “No! Don’t leave me please! Noa!”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ Soona could not get her breathing under control, rapid and condenced against her exploding diaphragm. She had counted everyone correctly, their familiar faces all washed with the pain and devastation that now radiated clearly through the crowd as they nestled themselves in the woods, far enough from the char of the village, but close enough to still hear the tumbling of the towers as they came crashing back down to the Earth that supplied their building material. Every crackle was accounted for, every sob and furled in Ape seen by Soona’s eyes. Anaya now being tendered to by another Female Ape who had some experience with injuries, not much as Soona herself was unfamiliar with most. The Eagle Clan--- She wanted to sob, they were peaceful, never had reason to fight or defend themselves, only having minute knowledge of how to take care of bodily injury that was often sustained during fishing, hunting or riding into new territory.

This… She looked over at her Sunset brother and racked her body with a shiver of the utmost devastation, ignoring the clinging of her other brother's blood against her palm. This was beyond any of them…. He had been bitten on the head by a blunt object, falling in and out of consciousness to the point where his words were slurred, Soona wanting him to say something sarcastic or funny in retort but garnered nothing. Soona and Dar were confident he would be alright, just needing to be cared for in the meantime.

Her green gaze looked at Anaya’s mouth, bloodied as the female with him began cleaning the iron redness away from his lips. He had… Taken an Echo life, the one of very few in the History of the Clan. She was morbid in thought, wondering what it must have felt like to kill such a threat, to succeed but could not bring herself to care anymore about that as she mentally drew on.

He… Would be alright… She told herself over and over again, looking down at the Master of the Birds himself as she had very narrowly managed to do as you had advised. Get the item out from his shoulder, a bullet you had called it.... His breathing was falling between rapid and shallow, Soona herself unsure of what that meant, either too fast or too deep. He… He had spoken nothing to her, not able to tear himself away from the nightmare Soona imagined was playing in his mind, over and over again. She couldn’t get it out of her mind, living not once, but twice through it. She knew nothing of bullets, these Echo Primal weapons that hurt with soot and explosions, not even sure what you meant until the casing came out, covered in soot and Noa’s blood, her fingers shaking as she brought it in to look at. Noa’s blood coated her fingertips, red like… Like the beginning of a sun set.It left a gaping wound there, Soona admiring the depth the projectice had gotten into him, into the dense muscles and shattering them into nothingness. Dar was pressing into it with a flooded piece of cloth, begging to her own Eagle that it was enough to stop the bleeding from a wound not inflicted from an arrow, from a spear or from a fist itself.

Glancing around at the chatter of the other Apes that were around in the woods, the dim fire light of the Clan’s demise was hard to ignore as ash began drizzling down upon then and coated their darkened fur with gray, coughs erupting as it hit inhaling lungs. Everything they… Noa, Anaya and Soona… Everything they had known was gone, soon to be blown by the wind into nothing but bitter memories remembered years from now.

The towering enclosures, so green and lush, laughter coming from every crevice their nests of familiarity, the steps towards the Eagle Enclosure that Soona and Anaya only traversed, never allowed to actually step into the enclosure itself as they were not an Elder or Noa themselves. She could remember how the wood thickets felt under her calloused touch as she and Anaya waited for Noa’s meetings to be over, to pester him about them to see if they could get any details out of him. She knew how it felt to have the gentle breeze pulling at her fur as Anaya chewed annoyingly on a mango right in her ear. While memories are put into her mind… The places themselves remained in nothing but dank ash and wood pieces that glowed ember. Everything Noa had built since his Father’s death… Gone. The only thing that remained were the Eagles and the Apes themselves, some of the feathery companions seeking comfort with their own Masters while others were sticking themselves around on their twig legs in a desperate attempt to find them in the chaos that was still raining down on them.

Eagle Sun himself was near, perched only a few meters away and observed. The devastation ran through him at the prospect of not having another Master. How could he when he had lost Koro and now a line was drawn in the said and he might lose Noa? Soona looked over her shoulder at him, having sensed his eyes on her back as she looked at the ballet once more. Such a small object able to inflict such rancid injury… Soona’s jaw tightened - They had done the best they could with the evacuation plan that Noa had set in place, one of the first things he had done when he returned from his journey to defeat Proximus and bring his Clan home. They had done the best they could but there was still substantial loss, not just in life, but not there was a glaring hole as to what they were meant to do next? Return to the grounds of which they were raised and see the devastation for themselves? Avoid it at all cost?

What if…--- Soona’s gaze fell down to Noa who was propped safely in his Mother’s lap, lapsing in moments of vividness of agonistic strenuous sounds coming from the back of his throat, Noa’s larg hands at his sides squeezing themselves into fists at Dar’s soft movements. His head being held so tenderly as she whispered to him, words Soona was unable to detect but no doubt they were words of encouragement to get him to wake, get him to stabilize and come back to her as she must have feared losing more than the rest of them. She tried to ignore that, her heart churning as Noa’s breathing turned languid, his ribs catching themselves on fire with every action. Dar figured that he had a few broken, in the dark of the night though, it was hard to deduce that for sure. Noa jerked - Suddenly and sharply, his entire body springing as if he had been poked directly in the middle of his foot by a sharp needle and it radiated pain throughout his entire body. Gasps were taken, hard and ragged as blood coughed out from his lungs, falling from his mouth and onto Dar who went to grasp him, to get him to lay back down.

Movement - She said calmly to her Son, it was only going to cause more problems but that didn't matter to Noa as his pupil blew eyes scattered across the scene. His heart felt like it would fall right out of his chest at that moment, trying to draw in another breath to keep himself stable but to no avail. It burned to the deepest core of him, his right shoulder exploding and yelling at him as he had moved so rapidly, the cloth that Dar had been using to help keep the injury sustained was lost in the shuffle as Noa tried to trudge himself to his feet as Soona grasped his good shoulder. “Noa! No! You---Need rest… Should not move!” She looked down desperately at Dar who raised herself to grasp her son's forearm and bring him down but he refused to love as his feet dug into the Earth below. The Clan, he could feel the redness under his eyelids from stress induced fighting. Noa felt the shift of the Earth between his toes at the longing notion that you had come to see him and come to bid him goodbye in order to save them all.

Moving his mouth to an open position, he rested his flocked gaze on the young Apes who were clinging so desp… Desperately to their Mother’s chest as the realization finally ran up to him and knocked him back down, Noa collapsed against his Mother with a fevered growl of pain that ran down his arms, that ran through his entire body and refused to relent any of the control it had on his senses. Noa wanted to roll into Dar at that moment, telling her that he needed her embrace, he needed her wisdom… Something to tear him out of the nightmare that was too close to his heart.

Blood shot eyes looked straight at Soona, the feral unable to read them for a split second as she felt a piece of her own self died. Noa… Was not there, or he was and he was so far gone in the throes of death itself that this was going to be the last moment she’d see the green in his eyes at all. “We… Got everyone out… Anaya is here, safe.” Soona’s voice was surprisingly calm despite the severity of Noa’s glance, the Ape momentarily squeezing them shut in a plea to get her out of his head and to stop answering the questions that were running through him. Too many to process, to many to remember in the hazed wake of injuries riddling his body and the suffocation that was taking place inside of his lungs. Noa wanted to wake up again in the meadow with you, near the water and take a long hard drink of both of you.

He--- There was no way he was not dead, at least for a brief moment as red flashed in front of his vision and he felt his equilibrium shatter,, agony tracing itself along the back of his skull and causing his neck to feel adversely stiff. Fingers felt hurt, dirt rising and falling into his already thick fingernails, his palms having inflicted a few sharp rocks against them nothing more than a tattered mess of cuts. Face was colored red from the vicious nature of cuts along the side of his right face, one under his left eye and a deep gash that rested on his chin, engraining itself into the fur of his beard.

There was no explanation for it, seeing you so close to him, having you hold him so tenderly at the moment where things started to go wrong, the both of you playing cards at the replay that should have been the way it went in reality. Noa reached out for it again, his hands shaking, one able to move with the use of his shoulder and the other lifeless to the drop of his fingers itself. He could not hold you even if you were here, but he’d will himself to try.

Noa--- Swore to the Eagles above, he would force himself even if it meant pulling himself through the coals. You were his and he was going to hold onto that for the rest of his life. But… For you to be there with him in that moment of tenderness, of unspoken want and attentiveness… Meant only one thing, Noa thought and tried to squeeze that out of his mind just long enough to get a proper status from Soona who had stopped speaking once she sensed that Noa wasn’t asking her to. “All…” Noa gritted his teeth together and felt Dar pressing her hand onto his head, something that even now, comforted him much like it did when he was only a young Chimp, “All destr-destroyed?”

“E-everything,” There was a loud sob behind her from one of the Chimpanzee families at the confirmation, followed by chattering as they began gossiping amongst themselves that Noa was alive but everything that had been rebuilt was dead. Dead, Noa repeated seeing your smile flash in front of his eyes. No… No. “Eagle Enclosure---”

Noa felt words were getting stuck in the back of his throat but he needed to--- He gasped… He needed to make sure that all he had built in his Father’s name was not lost. “All got out?” “Yes.” Soona’s voice was a cry of joy in the otherwise sullen situation.

Noa gritted his teeth again and nodded. Good. There was only one thing left he needed to ask, letting his eyes slide into Dar’s for a moment and sought intense solace in her touch on him as if she were preparing him for the worst of the news. Something she had to experience herself only a year and a half ago. “Al-All of the Echo’s?” Soona hesitated with her words, knowing it to be a loaded question even in her tired and frayed mind, “All of them?” Noa swallowed hard, regretting it the moment he set forth the action as his throat was incredibly dry and he felt the saliva lingering in his stomach like bile that began rising itself back up in anticipation of the answer, “Was---- Was.. M… My Echo… here?” Splitting his voice as it rested in a deeper baritone with the question, it was splattered with self-loathing if Noa dared suspect what he was thinking. He tried to ignore the way it felt to say, past tense. Yes… You were there, Noa had seen you with his own eyes, felt your touch and smelled your blood. You were there! For him… Kissing his forehead with your own… You were… Was… Were…Was… Soona only nodded, looking away and back towards the glow of the fire in the distance to confirm his suspicions. “Sh…” Sobbing slightly, Dar felt him shaking against him and gave Soona a warning glance. With his ribs in the state they were, they were more prone to damage if Noa moved too viciously as they could puncture his lungs or another organ. Soona looked right back at her, apologetic in her expression but she knew Noa just as well, he would not stop asking, he would not stop obsessing unless she gave him the answers to the questions he was asking with his mouth and with his mind. Better to rip this off now even though he was injured, Soona thought, and if he felt the urge to meet you wherever you had grasped him and beckoned him, then that was up to Noa himself. “Have sent two Apes to get her,” Soona explained softly, hunching in on herself and scooting towards her friend, “Could… not get close enough, the fire…” “Send me.” “Noa-” “SEND ME.” His voice ran through the entire group of Apes that were around, heightened silence following as everyone looked towards the tone of Noa. Eyes upon eyes that matched, all on him. Noa didn't care if they were. They could stare holes into him until he brought his bloodied body next to your own so he could grasp at your hair, bringing your forehead to his once more. Where you belonged, where he belonged.

“She is dead.”

Dar said to the Ape she had her grasp on, feeling Noa stiffen more and more with each word. He didn't blink as he rose his eyes upwards towards Eagle Sun who had been intent on watching his Master’s every move with baited breath, waiting for a command, waiting for a purpose. Stagnant, Dar looked at the side of her Son’s face, so familiar to her in the moment but so far in his gaze as he stared off into nothing, repeating over and over again the three words she just spoke to him, the first three she had spoken to him. Not dead, impossible, he uttered inside of his mind. He… Noa’s mouth fell open in a silent plea. “Saw… her…” “My Son…” There was lingering assurance in Dar’s voice as she tried to display for him the power that he was going to need to overcome this, having done just that when Koro was taken from her. Nipped in the bud for her child, never coming to fruition but the pain itself was unbearable and there was nothing she knew could be done as he reached up and grabbed the forearm she had around him, so tightly that Noa felt he was going to pull the fur straight out from her skin. Dar let it sink in, holding onto him all that tighter. “I---” Harshly, Noa pulled himself away from the confines he loved so deeply and splattered himself onto the ground, straight on his face without time to even catch himself. Enjoying the sediment in his mouth as it seemed to alighten his senses, Noa lifted himself up onto his one good arm and staggered artistically to his feet, his balance unequivocal and unmatched, fire scathing through his blood.

“I SAW HER.” Crying out, he gestured his one good arm towards the general direction of the stream from the flooded vision he had of you still seering into his retinas. Every touch lighting him on ablaze, sending skyrockets down his spine at the idea that he was about to take you as his own and you were going to let him, exaltations being breathed against Noa’s face, against his neck as you pleaded with your body.

Take me, take me… Never once did he think about it being towards death itself, your body pleading for it to take you away. Never once, it was only meant for Noa. There was no way you were gone, Noa laughed bitterly to himself and felt his head tip backwards. No, no no… The way that your hands felt in his fur were too real, the way that your words felt to him, driving down the deepest parts of his mind. No--- Noa laughed for only a second before he drew his face into a flattened stance. You were not dead, he decided. You could not be dead witho--- Without saying goodbye to him!

“I fe--- felt her… Touching… Water… Under…me….” Coherency was lost as Noa stumbled to find the words to say, or to even sign but nothing made sense anymore. Nothing without you… Made sense. Without reserve, Noa roared your name in hopes that you were able to hear him in the bitter darkness encased with oranges and flurrying snowflakes of ash. Noa whimpered.

He needed you to hear him.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Noa had been watching you for what felt like days upon days, but that’s how it felt now when he drew his attention towards you. Things slowed down so he could start to take in the more minute details about you that he hadn’t thought about beforehand. The way that you talked to him, the way that your body held itself next to him all spoke to Noa of how you were getting more comfortable, more accepting of the Clan…Of… Of him.

The way that the fire you were perched in front of played against your face, casting shadows along your nose and along the curves of your lips pulled his body towards your own, the shuffling of the cloak and the beating of the necklaces against his chest all amplified at how you smiled towards Soona who had give you a wave, followed by you throwing your head back in a laugh when Anaya came tumbling up to her and almost tackled her to the ground. Noa paused then to catch the pulsation of your heartbeat against the delicate nature of your neck.

The ceremony ended in success, Noa having gotten the approval he so sought from his Father, from his Mother and from the Elders. A new generation of Apes, Noa looked over at them as they chatted amongst each other about their eggs, about what their bird might look like and what temperament they might have, bonded and secured with one of the companions that would see them through life. Next ceremony for them would be the Mating prospect, something that lingered in even Noa’s mind as he was rounding that age and got consistently pestered from the Elders regarding.

Noa listened to their praises, to his Mother as she drew him in and placed his forehead against her own, telling her son how proud she was and how proud she knew his Father would be of the Ape he had grown into. He listened, but he did not care to linger as you were like gravity itself, circling him in. He did not care to let them talk about his life and what they wanted from him as he knew you never did that. You--- Noa shuffled himself near the log you were sitting on. You were open and accepting to him it seemed, not just the Master of the Birds, not just the Leader of the Clan, but just… Noa. And something deep inside of him awakened and wanted to know why.

“Should join.” The Chimp urged, watching as you jumped. His look was apologetic as he took the seat next to you, knowing he must have scared you to garner that sort of reaction as your breathing picked up and you placed a hand against your chest, Noa captivated by that movement and how inherently Echo--- No… He corrected himself with a tilt of his head, how inherently you it was.

Feeling your heart now resting in the back of your throat and knowing no amount of swallowing was going to help, you looked up at Soona as she was adorned with a feather in a twined headdress that was tangled delicately with turquoise beads, metallic cloves and smoothed pebbled and hollowed beads. All the colors that rested in the orange and tan twine of the headdress right at the top base of her ear were brilliant, the tracing of feathers around the back of her head so enticing as it looked like a crown from a faded children's book you used to have before the pages fell out. She was beautiful, radiating with color against your eyes as the communal bonfire shone brilliantly against her fur and gave the appearance of being dipped in delicious honey.

“Bond ceremony… Very important to the young Apes. Coming of Age. Ape… Share our feathers with each other, bond to the Eagle Clan.”

Parted lips seemed to echo his words as you were processing them, urging yourself to say something in return but you were remarked by how all of the Apes in the area were wearing similar headdresses, female and male. You drew your attention to Anaya’s. Structurally the same to Soona’s, gray, black and blue feathers lining the round of his head as he held a bundle of the feathers, freshly preened, in his fist to give to his fellow Apes.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” You complimented Noa with a soft smile, Noa himself throwing caution to the wind and listened to your praises as they meant more to him now than ever before, “I had to have Soona explain what was happening but it--- It was so beautiful, you were---”

Tapering softly, you drew your bottom lip in and chewed it viciously. When it was brought back to light and covered in your saliva, Noa felt a lick of temptation to bring his mouth down upon it. “You-you were great.”

Mentally, you felt like beating yourself at the notion that you had been conditioned your entire life to think that they were savages with no culture, no sense of self or worth outside of killing Humans. But this entire display, from the powerful stance of Noa himself as he talked to the young Apes embarking on the most important aspect of their lives, so careful and gentle as he knew how important it was, having to feel the heavy crown his Father gave him upon death as your eyes skidded towards his own adornment of feathers along his skull. More than Anaya and Soona, you noted, fluttered and soft to the touch, you wanted to reach up and drag your fingers through just to test if he’d let you that close.

From the closeness he had to you, seated, you were able to see the pull and push of his breathing, feeling it against your face as you admired the art and sacred nature of his headdress. It… Was beautiful… Noa…

Your gaze dropped into his own for a moment, the heat of the fire you were resting near the only excuse you had for the grazing of red that catapulted against your cheeks. Noa was too. The sweeping lines of wrinkles that took over under his eyes, happy little dances downwards towards his minorly hollowed cheeks, the ajar stance his mouth had giving you the most vicious view of only his canines as you imagined them sinking into you, wondering if it felt better to just succumb than to pretend that things hadn’t been changing, the way that his fur was whitened around his mouth and under his bottom lip and got darker around the edges of his face.

You hadn’t thought it to yourself, but you supposed this was the first time that you had been this close to him in a more intimate setting, opting to keep distance on the table as a means of not getting too emotionally attached. But, it was so hard when he looked at you like that, your head tilting and pouring your eyes into his golden, green and hazeled stance that was unwavering. Noa was striking and he deserved praise, if only you were willing to be strong enough to give it.

A screech startled you as Eagle Sun, having sensed the very conversation previously talked about, came and bid you welcome, jumping onto the ground between your legs and moving forward with a few bounces. You smiled at him, pressing a tender ‘hello’ to his beak which Noa watched with heightened interest, mild jealousy seeping at the idea that you were so willing to touch his feathery companion but always showed such reserve when you were around him. Avoiding flurried eye contact, Noa sought yours in those moments and yearned for you to return but you were not allowing yourself to do it any longer, the sensation of your heart too heavy in your chest and noticeable to Noa as he firmly had his feet planted on the ground.

“This is…” You whispered, shamefully as you drew your hand back inwards to tightly hold yourself. Feeling the feathers of the cloak that Noa was dressed in, having just commenced and finished the ceremony himself, came to rest next to you out of all people instead of taking in the celebrations with his own. You knew this behavior from him was a way of getting himself to open up to you, to learn more about the Apes so you did not fear them.

But, somewhere along the way, the fear that you held and the animosity that always bubbled right under the surface turned into adoration and admiring. How you looked at Noa as he explained things to you that you did not understand, how you wanted him to hold your hand and drag you along with him, your fingers twitching in eagerness to hold onto his grip and never let go. Drawing your knees in, you looked down at them and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t think I should be a part of it. I’m still just a human.”

Echo, Noa whispered inside of his mouth and let his gaze flicker along the side of your face as you pretended to be interested in the fire as a means to avoid eye contact. Sure… Echo only in appearance, Noa wanted to tell you and give you reassurance but he was afraid to fall over that threshold by being too bold.

Sure, Echo only in some aspects like privacy, still a strange concept to the Ape who had walked in on you dressing once and proceeded to get yelled at. Noa only regretted it for a moment though, thinking about it now as he was able to still spot in his memories the way your flesh looked in the fire light, the urge to see it again incredibly great as he nodded in understanding. Glancing down at his hand, Noa shoved the headpiece he had for you back into the sack around his waist and instead opted to raise a blue feather from Eagle Sun himself right into your vision.

Staring at it, almost cross-eyed, your lips parted in question but before you were able to say anything, Noa muttered to you, “Something… thing to remember… first ceremony with the Eagle Clan.” “Noa, I’m not a part of the Cla---” The Chimp was adamant, grasping your hand tightly into his own, your skin seemingly falling to pieces at this as he had never touched you with such intended force and for a second, you thought that he was going to break your hand. Swallowing lightly, you looked down at the contact that was made, Noa sensing your sudden instinct to fight and loosened up a bit before he brought the feather down into your forced open palm. “Please.” An invisible gasp left your lips at that as you only nodded silently, Noa’s hand hesitantly moving away from yours as he brought himself to his feet, knowing he needed to mingle with the other Apes and not spend his entire night dotting with you. Noa would though… Without hesitation, the thought ran rampant in his mind and for the second time that evening, your eyes met and Noa felt that same pull that dragged him over here in the first place. The scope of his entire body was laid in front of you. The swagger of his stance, so strong and sweeping with confidence that your words had brought him, his shoulder dressed with such beautiful detailing, years and generations of Apes history in every feather. You scooted your glance down to the feather in your hand and then back upwards to Noa, your expression telling him you were undeserving, you were not worthy of his kindness towards you, things should have never ended up this way. Noa looked down at you with eagerness to see you swallow the feather in your grasp as a form of acceptance.

If you accepted this… Noa’s heart raced as he brought his feet inward a bit to help you, fingers barely tickling along your knuckles to tell you to close your hand. If you accepted this, Noa could go after you. Noa could give any excuse in the book to the Elders that you were just as deserving as any other Female Ape that wanted his attention, that sought to be the future with him. His hand was hot and heady against your clammy fingers as you drew them in. Slowly, not breaking the eye contact that he was sure to keep stable with the flickering intent that was resting behind them. Silence but deathly in its grasp. “T-Thank you.” You barely managed to whisper with a choked cry, “I- N-never thought I’d… find….” Noa drew a deep breath in and held your hand tightly in his own, “Will always be a part of the Eagle Clan. You are free to do as you wish here. Find family… Friends, a life. May even find….” You rested on the contact he had with your body and swallowed lightly, “Find what?” “Mate. We all find one… Someday.”

Maybe not now, maybe we’re not ready, he told you quietly with his touch, desperate that his thoughts were getting across to you. We’ll fly around this, we’ll find our way back to each other if we get separated, Echo and Human. I do not understand you, you do not understand me but there is something more here, something that needs to be brought to warmth and comfort to be hatched. Feathers of a bird.

Noa smiled at you with a small huff escaping from his nose, your eyes watching his nostrils flare and settle with acute attention to how he moved, genuine for the first time and before you could say anything else to him, he was gone as you opened your hand once more and peered longingly at the feather.

Blue, special from Eagle Sun’s underwing that you enjoyed preening. Blue. You looked at the back of Noa’s head at an adjoining and matching feather. Bringing it upwards to your lips, you lightly pressed a kiss to the item and tucked it behind your ear in a silent ceremony of your own.

If he would accept you here, as you were, you’d be more than willing... You would become a part of the Eagle Clan.

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