#too scared to tag the other beasts

[zedleaked]

Vriska Undertale Season 3 Episode 12: Pizza Wars

I feel like I must formally apologise to every pizza tower ever

[arcadequeerz]

Sometimes I wanna wildly yell about scribbles and then I get too nervous to and just sit here like:

[possum-tooth]

happy wednesday i cannot wait until friday ~9p <3

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

[petit-etoile]

in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends  —  He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink  —  ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m  —  Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are  —  Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you  —  to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone  —  ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion  —  ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can  —  ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest  —  yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but  —  I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

‘anla

part two out now

Summary: Ao'nung is carefree and rude, to say the least. All he needs is the fear of Eywa in him, and a girl from the Omatikaya clan unexpectedly straightens him out.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Mature language, violence, mentions of blood, harassment, death threats, teenagers acting their age, time skips, overprotective fathers, military dad, puppy love, canon compliant, slow burn, etc.

Word Count: 5k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: ‘anla - yearn for, ikran - banshee, pa'li - direhorse, skxawng - moron, tsaheylu - the bond, marui - pod homes, tsmuke - sister, tsmisnrr - nectar lantern, olo'eyktan - clan leader, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, akula - shark like, tulkun - whale like, maite- my daughter, sa'nok - mother, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, matxe'lan - my heart, ilu - dolphin/plesiosaurlike, txampaysye - gill mantle, Ayram Alusìng - Hallelujah Mountains, sa'sem - parents, tsakarem - tsahik in training, tsahik - spiritual leader

(I do not consent to my works being reposted or copied)

read it here on ao3

"It's called a punch, bitch! Don't ever touch my sister again."

"Get him, Ao'nung!"

"Show him!"

"Stop this! Stop it! So stupid!"

"Ow! My tail!"

"My ear! Let go! He's got my ear!"

Kiri had begun to laugh the nerves off, amused by the ridiculous display of testosterone in all her short teenage life. Hiding her giggles behind her hand, all she could do was watched as her brothers pathetically fought for her dignity against Ao'nung and some of the other reef boys. It had all been fun and games until she noticed a familiar figure in the sky and she craned her neck up to see it.

A shadow looms over the boys, darkening the world around them as it drew closer. Lo'ak and Neteyam both take a moment to recognize the shadow before dodging out of the way, hot blood cooling from the fight as they quickly moved out of the reef boys' reach. Ao'nung, laughing because he thought they were running scared of him, was the last to see the shadow, only pausing when he noticed his friends looking up and their eyes widen in horror. He isn't given a moment to turn around because something large lands in the shallow water behind him and the force of it drove him to stumble into the wet sand below him. The growling and snarls coming from behind the chief's son send chills down his frame, despite the warm day, as he finally turned his body around to stare up at the beast.

Blocking out the sun above him was a large ikran, light blue with gold lightning running up its figure, cawing loudly as if it had caught a meal. Its wings splash in the water, digging into the sand beneath and cooling off like a tired pa'li. Ao'nung began to crawl away from the ikran by the heel of his hands and feet, breath panting rapidly as the fear took over. The fear didn't lessen even as the ikran's rider dismounted, feet splashing into the beach water, drawing up to their ankles. Ao'nung tried to control his breathing as the rider stood over him, snarling down at the Metkayina boy like he was a bug that was stepped underfoot.

Y/n te Suli Neytiri'ite bore a look of disgust, her bright yellow eyes boring into Ao'nung's very soul. Without looking away from him, she addresses her ikran, her four-fingered hand petting down the side of the beast's neck, "Easy, girl. He's the wrong kind of fish. You can't eat him."

Looking around, the oldest daughter of Toruk Makto demanded answers with a stern tone, acting years older than fifteen, "What's the meaning of this?"

Lo'ak spat blood onto the sand, "They called us freaks."

Blink and you would miss it, but for Ao'nung, who refused to look away in fear of the ikran and her rider, he caught the small shift in Y/n's ears before they reverted back to normal. Her tail twitched, too, and from observation, he realized this was the Forest People's way of showing alertness or agitation.

Kiri had caught onto her sister's shift in behavior as well, her voice cautious, "Y/n..."

"Go home, Kiri. Now." Y/n's voice was flat, rid of emotion as she took charge of the situation, pointing to her twin brother, "'Teyam. Pick that skxawng up and go wash your face."

Neteyam nods dutifully, bending down and grabbing Lo'ak's elbow, the younger boy rolling his eyes at the name-calling. Y/n's eyes narrow at each of the reef boys before directing her gaze at Ao'nung, who stiffens under her close inspection, "As for you... You think it's hard to learn your ways. So why don't you try learning our ways and you can be the judge of that?"

The female Omatikaya gestures to the ikran behind her, one corner of her lips slowly turning up as a challenge, "Go ahead. Make the bond."

In response, Y/n's ikran hissed, fangs bared and jaw open wide. Ao'nung could feel the hot breath of the animal fanning his face and could see down its throat. Suddenly the courage and the teasing had left his body. Eyes still wide, unable to look away, Ao'nung can only swallow down his rapid breathing while Y/n just huffs, unimpressed, "As I suspected. You're not even brave enough to get back on your feet. You wouldn't last ten minutes in the forest, Fish Lips."

Y/n waited until all three of her siblings were walking away before she made the tsaheylu with her ikran and mounted the creature, eyebrows raised while peering down her nose at Ao'nung, "Who's the freak now?"

She had flown away, leaving Ao'nung in the sand, the ocean brushing his legs while his friends stood around, gawking. After returning her ikran to the jungle behind the village, Y/n bounded her way back to the Sullys' marui, internally preparing herself for what her siblings likely told her parents. She was not disappointed as she turned the corner, entering the tent to only find her father waiting for her, her siblings already gone from sight.

"What the hell were you doing back there?" Jake demanded under his breath the moment he saw his eldest daughter.

"What do you mean?"

"Do not try playing dumb with me right now. Your brothers already told me what happened."

"I was humbling Ao'nung." She scoffed, smiling to herself as she mocked the boy not currently present, "He couldn't bond with an ikran even if he tried. They would eat him."

Jake sighed, exhausted beyond his years at her antics as he placed one hand on his hip and the other on his pounding head, "You weren't trying to humble him, Y/n, you were humiliating him. And you knew what you were doing."

She shrugged, "Either way it's a win-win. A bruised ego is a lesson-learned ego. That is, if he's smart enough to actually learn his lesson--"

"That's enough, young lady," Jake spoke sternly, the marine in him making an appearance, "Ao'nung is the chief's son. You either need to get along with him or at the very least respect him."

"And I am Toruk Makto's daughter!" Y/n snapped back, "Maybe respect should go both ways."

"Enough."

The tone drove Y/n to straighten her posture, glaring into the space ahead of her, avoiding her father's gaze as he approached her, "Any more backlash comes out of that smart mouth of yours and you'll be grounded from flying."

Her bottom lip pokes out as she pouts. Jake's eyebrow raises at her reaction and the simple facial movement is all Y/n needs before she mumbles out, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get lost." Slouching, she turns to leave.

"Hey..." She turns back to find her father standing there instead of the marine, his features softening into curiosity, "How scared was Ao'nung?"

A grin slowly dawns on Y/n's face, stretching the stardust on her cheeks, "Terrified."

"Atta girl."

~~~~~~~~~

It was close to eclipse and both Neteyam and Y/n were flying their ikran, bows in hand, and enjoying a few more laps around the island before they were forced to return to the village. Neteyam makes a hand gesture and instructs his ikran to dive, his twin closely following them on hers.

They land in the jungle, their ikran hooking their claws into the trunks and vines of the vast trees. Breaking the bond, Y/n jumped to one branch and then skillfully climbed down the trunk, Neteyam not far behind her. The twins land gracefully on the forest floor, their conversation cut off midsentence to the sound of a twig snapping. Both of them spin their heads in the same direction they heard the noise, their ears wildly twitching with every little sound they heard. Finally, with bated breath, the figure behind the noise emerged. It was Ao'nung, walking towards them from the direction of the village, a big bruise now sprouting over the right side of his face.

"Does this guy have a death wish or something?" Y/n muttered to her brother, all the while peeking up at her ikran nestled in the trees above her.

"Don't react until we know what he wants," Neteyam advises, leaning his weight onto his bow, acting casual.

A little smug to spite her brother, Y/n called out to Ao'nung as he approached them, "Little far from the reef, are we Fish Lips?"

He doesn't react to the insult other than a small sneer gracing said lips. When he stood still in front of the twins, they both noticed how he was struggling to look them in the eyes. His fingers twitched, trying to find something to do while he muttered, "I did something... some would think dumb."

"Some?"

"Tsmuke." Neteyam hissed at Y/n from under his breath.

Ao'nung continued, ears flattening to the point he looked ashamed of himself, "I brought your brother hunting outside the reef. And..."

"And?" Neteyam urged him to continue.

"And I left him there."

Y/n's head tilts at the same time her pupils shrink and her fangs make an appearance, "You did what?"

"I thought he'd find his way back to the village eventually, but he still hasn't returned. I just wanted to scare him!" Ao'nung defended himself, albeit a bit weakly, his eyes pleading when he finally looked up at stared directly at Y/n, "That's all!"

She huffs a laugh of disbelief through her nose and it sounded irritable. Y/n peered over at Neteyam with narrowed eyes, "I was right, brother. He does have a death wish."

"That's enough, Y/n!" Neteyam keeps a hand out in front of his sister to keep her at bay, then uses that hand to point accusingly at Ao'nung, "And you! We're going to see my father and you're gonna tell him what you told us. Let's go!"

Defeated and preparing for the inevitable, Ao'nung has the decency to at least lower his head in shame, half of his face still swollen from the fistfight so he winced in pain when he pouted. Neteyam moves to lead the three teens out of the jungle and Ao'nung moves to follow him. A hand shoves his arm, however, and the hiss Y/n breathes into his ear as she walked past him was the exact opposite of friendly.

"If my little brother is dead out there because of you, I promise not even Eywa will find whatever is left of you."

The twins had marched Ao'nung to their family's marui, demanding he explains to Jake what he did. After carefully listening, Toruk Makto didn't hesitate to seek out Tonowari and together they start a search party. It was already dark by the time the party set out, carrying tsmisnrr lanterns and other means of light around as they flew around on their tsurak. Neteyam and Y/n even took part in the search, flying their ikran back out after their parents made them promise to stay within sight of the village.

Soon enough, a Metkayina warrior hollers out a warning call, indicating he had found the missing boy. Lo'ak was safely brought back to the village and everyone had gathered around to check on his well-being. Neteyam and Y/n landed in the sand and rushed up to meet with their brother, watching him with their eyes as Jake and Neytiri inspect him for physical wounds. Overall, he appeared unharmed, all the while he glared up at Ao'nung, who had the decency to look ashamed. As the olo'eyktan insisted that his son was to blame for this incident, Lo'ak surprisingly came to Ao'nung's rescue, blaming himself and speaking for the other boy's innocence. Jake was not amused by Lo'ak's method of gaining friends and sent the boy home after berating him for shaming the family. Once alone, both Jake and Neytiri turn to Neteyam.

"Where were you?"

"Yeah, what happened to keeping an eye on your brother?"

"Sorry, sir."

Y/n, always her brother's shadow, stepped up from behind him, appearing in the soft glow of the village lanterns, "No, it was my fault. I asked 'Teyam to come flying with me and hunt." When both parents turned to one another, exchanging a voiceless conversation, Y/n's tail twitched, "You DID say we should always pair up if we ever go flying over open water."

Jake's posture deflated, eyes closed to refrain from getting another headache, "Sweetie--"

"He can't be in two places at once, Dad," the teen girl stated with drooping big eyes and lowered ears, "That's not fair. Instead of relying on your son to look after your kids, how about the parents do it for a change?"

The words stun both the parents and brother, all three staring at Y/n in shock as if she had just grown a second head. Neytiri's shock is the first to shrink in and turn to guilt, bottom lip puckered as she moved to reach out for her daughter. Jake didn't contract whatever sentiment his mate was feeling, however, as his posture stiffened back into a former olo'eyktan and war leader. He pointed an accusing finger at her.

"This attitude, Y/n, wherever it came from, stops now. This rebellious phase is over, young lady."

"Ma Jake." Neytiri's tone was gentle, with a small hint of a threat, as if daring Jake to interrupt her, "She is fifteen. Do you remember what you were like at that age? Although I doubt this personality is not a phase. I believe it is from watching you."

Jake looked back at his mate, scandalized while Neytiri just smiles and places her hand on Y/n's shoulder, "Look at her, Jake. Look at both of them."

He dutifully turned to inspect the twins, both of them staring up at him with identical, pouting eyes that nearly made him cave to anything they asked for when they were little. They kept their hair braided and near their shoulders, aligned with beads much like the hairstyle Neytiri wore when Jake first met her all those years ago. Their tanhì were not identical, Neteyam's forming rounded or lined patterns along his nose and under his eyes while Y/n's appear more scattered on her forehead and down her cheeks like constellations. Neteyam didn't have eyebrow hair, Y/n did. He didn't have an extra finger on each hand, but Y/n did. Both looked like Neytiri, which was easy to see, but Neteyam inherited more Na'vi features from their mother while Y/n definitely inherited the alien features from their father.

Neytiri admired her two oldest children with a fond smile as she reached out to grip her husband's arm, "They are the perfect balance of what we were like. They inherited the best parts of us."

A beat of silence is left between the four of them before Jake relents, unable to look his children in the eyes any longer and waving them away, defeated, "Go rest. Make sure your brother's alright."

"Yes, sir." They both say simultaneously, trying not to appear rushed when they quickly made their exit, beads clinking together as their braids moved while they walked.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, both Neteyam and Y/n were surprised to discover Ao'nung hanging out with Lo'ak willingly, and Lo'ak didn't appear bothered. In fact, the future olo'eyktan didn't seem interested in being anywhere unless with the Sully kids and his sister and Rotxo. He still appeared wary of them, but at least he wasn't insulting them under his breath anymore. At one point in the early afternoon, all the kids huddled around on the rocks by the beach after their chores were done and had asked Lo'ak what happened the night before. He explained how he was attacked by an akula but saved by a tulkun. The reef children doubted his story until Lo'ak gave a brief description of the creature. Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo were all shocked and explained the horror stories they knew of Payakan, unwilling to believe he could have been friendly to Lo'ak until the young Omatikaya stormed away.

Y/n had listened quietly and waited until she was back in the marui to voice her thoughts while she and her twin were weaving a fishing net together, "He's confusing."

"Who?" Neteyam looked up and caught the knowing look in her eye, "Ao'nung?"

"Yeah. He's acting... nice. He's actually sweet when he's not around the other reef boys."

"Yeah, he acts like he's related to Tsireya." Neteyam chuckled lightly through his nose.

"You think Lo'ak made up with him?"

"I think so. Or maybe some level of respect and understanding has been placed."

"Still. He was cruel." She snarled, willing herself to remember the reef boy up until the day they met him, "I don't understand how Lo'ak could forgive him. He nearly died because of Ao'nung. Kiri was harrassed by him and you guys fought."

Neytiri and Jake both enter the marui and weren't ashamed to admit they were eavesdropping when the Na'vi woman pitched in on the conversation, sitting down in front of her twins to help with the net, "He's likely just starting to warm up to you, maite."

Neteyam grins teasingly, eyebrow ridge raised in his sister's direction while speaking to his mother, "Yeah, her especially. You should see the way he stares at Y/n when she's not looking, sa'nok."

Y/n feels her neck crack when she spun her head to stare at her brother, appalled as he laughed. Obviously, he must be right about Ao'nung staring when she wasn't looking since this was all news to Y/n. Her shock turns into a scowl as she reaches over to push his shoulder, "That's ridiculous. I attacked him with an ikran, ridiculed him in front of his friends, and threatened to tear him to pieces if anything happened to Lo'ak. He's likely planning another way to humiliate me."

Jake was cleaning his gun while they talked but took a moment to side-eye his daughter when she mentioned threatening the life of the chief's son. Y/n only smiled back in response to her father's silent scrutiny, her tail waving behind her with feigned innocence. Jake returned to his weapon while shaking his head, though he didn't hide the small corner of his mouth turning up. Neytiri smiled while watching the interaction, though it didn't reach her eyes. A small wave of sadness embraced her, a harsh reminder that her babies were growing and she could not keep them forever. Soon they'll be old enough to be considered adults once they have fully completed the trials of their Iknimaya, and then they'll be free to choose their mates. The idea of her children teasing each other over innocent little crushes brings both fondness and sadness to Neytiri's mind. Where had the time gone?

She shuffled from her sitting position in order to reach her daughter, pulling a braid out of Y/n's face, "People are cruel when they're faced with something they don't understand, matxe'lan."

"Neytiri, don't you dare try to teach our daughter Ao'nung is mean to her because he likes her," Jake spoke up, finished cleaning his weapon and now looking down the sights of it with a certain reef boy at the forefront of his mind, "That way of thinking never worked on Earth and I'll be damned if I let my children believe that sort of behavior is normal."

"It is true." Neytiri's eyes began to glitter with mischief, "Although if you are anything like your father, you'll likely make a skxawng of yourself when trying to impress someone."

Jake nearly chokes while his twins burst out laughing.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was disappointed when she was the last of her family to finish chores late in the day, leaving her alone while they were all elsewhere. Tsireya and Rotxo have taken Neteyam, Kiri, and Tuk to the Cover of the Ancestors to show them where their Spirit Tree resided, and Lo'ak disappeared right before then, likely to go meet with his new 'friend'. As for her parents, Y/n was certain they were with Tonowari and Ronal for the day, helping them gather medicinal plants from the jungle. This left Y/n to her own devices, though she didn't have any idea what to do with this newfound freedom, so she started by just casually walking along the beach. She traveled quite a ways, the village now in the distance behind her. The beach was getting thinner to the point where she was surrounded. One side of her held the vast ocean, the other side a dense, deep green jungle. Y/n wondered how long it would take for her to completely walk around the whole island, betting on possibly two days if she did nothing but sleep and walk.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of something breaking through the gentle waves reaching up to the beach, and as her head spins around, her eyes immediately narrow on who was following.

It was Ao'nung, astride a hyper ilu as he himself appeared in a chipper mood, perking up and waving a fin-hand at her, "Hey! Forest Girl! Where are you going?"

"None of your business, Seaweed Brain." Was her immediate response, her internal defenses on high alert. She kept walking away but Ao'nung made sure to keep in stride with her, swimming just close enough to the shore where his ilu wouldn't get beached.

"Well, then let me come with you. Or if you are not actually going anywhere, I can show you a few good spots."

Her head turns back to him, openly skeptical as she pointedly stared at the distant village behind him, "What about your dick friends?"

He flashed her a confused grin, "My what?"

Right. 'Dick' is an alien word. Y/n huffs, rolling her eyes and facing ahead, still walking away, "You know, the pricks you were with while you were harassing my sister. Are they coming, too?"

"Oh. I dropped them."

It was said so casually, but it only confused her more, repeating the words on her own tongue, "You dropped them?"

"I don't like hanging out with them anymore," He shrugged, maneuvering his ilu to drift into deeper waters when it got too shallow, "They're no fun. All they wanna do is annoy everyone."

"And you don't?"

"Ha ha," he replied sarcastically with a deadpanned expression, "Come on, Forest Girl. Do I look like I'm in a position to trick you? I know your ikran is just one call away. I'm not that stupid."

"No?" She feigns surprise even as she slowly enters the water, the ocean greeting her up to her knees. She knew he had a good point and therefore, because of her boredom, decided to humor the reef boy and take up on his offer, "'Could've fooled me. Your stupid enough not to remember my real name."

Ao'nung rolls his eyes, "You don't exactly use my real name either."

One corner of the Omatikaya girl's lips stretches up and she shrugs with one shoulder in a touché motion. Using her tongue to make various clicks and calls, another ilu emerges from the ocean, and Y/n wads over to it, skillfully mounting it and making tsaheylu. Getting situated, she turns to Ao'nung impatiently, "Well? You mentioned a 'good spot'. Let's see it."

His grin wasn't the usual mischievous smile she had grown to correlate with him. It was more genuine and excited, his blue eyes twinkling like when the sun catches the striking blue sea. Y/n blinks in surprise at her own thoughts, quickly shoving them down as she tightens her jaw and her grip on the ilu, stubbornly staring ahead instead of at the boy.

Ao'nung drifted ahead of her, looking back over his shoulder, "Follow me! The best time to see it is at eclipse."

Both he and his ilu dive under the water and with only her thoughts, Y/n holds her breath and wills her ilu to do the same. The scenery vastly changes from land to ocean life, and the beauty below the water doesn't get ignored. Y/n was still fascinated by the ocean, always finding something new and exciting to explore. She dutifully follows Ao'nung and his ilu, smiling at the cute clicks and hums the swimming creatures make to each other. Swimming on an ilu isn't that different from flying on an ikran, only the ikran only have one rider their whole lives. The similarity between swimming in the water and flying in the air is that they both feel like freedom, riding faster than the two young Na'vi could on their own.

It wasn't a long swim, but they had completely lost the village behind them, still following the beach in the opposite direction as Y/n was doing earlier. Eventually, Ao'nung and his ilu rise to the surface, and Y/n follows, greedily gulping down air when she and her ilu breach. As she caught her breath, she looked around, trying to decipher where they were until she follows Ao'nung's gaze, her jaw slowly dropping in awe.

A large shadow had quickly grown over the teens in their approach. Looming above them was a high cliff, connected to the island and facing the open sea. This large rock face was greatly different from the ones Y/n remembered seeing as her family flew away from their home and flew across open seawater. Erosion had eaten its way through the center of the rock face, naturally cutting all the way through the cliff to form a large archway, hundreds of feet above Y/n's head. The only thing connecting the cliff to the rest of the island was the natural bridge made up of stone and plant life at the top of the arch.

"We call this place 'Sänrr Rong,'" Ao'nung explained while watching Y/n's amazed expression, craning her neck to look up at the tall archway, "'The Glow Tunnel.'"

Y/n lowered her head to face Ao'nung, the question on the tip of her tongue before he waves her off, "Wait a moment. You'll see."

And it was perfect timing. Eclipse came upon the pair and before her very eyes, Y/n witnessed a beautiful transformation. As the world darkened, bioluminescent algae began to glow and travel all the way up the inside walls of the rock archway, igniting the tunnel all the way through to the other side of the tunnel. It was so bright against the contrast of darkness that Y/n could look down and see all sorts of ocean life existing below her, an entire ecosystem that lived underneath this archway as she and Ao'nung slowly drifted through it. The water almost looked nonexistent because of how clear it was. The brightness of the arch led all the way down under the water and came back up the other side, surrounding them like a complete circle, giving off the illusion that Y/n and Ao'nung were floating on air, still straddling their peaceful ilu.

Ao'nung softly explains the beautiful sight, not wanting to ruin the illusion for the Na'vi girl, "The waves grow really high in this area, especially during storms. That's why the algae stretch all the way up to the ceiling of the tunnel. My people sing about this place, calling it the 'Doorway to Eywa' in many songs."

"Are we allowed to be here?" She asked, afraid this was a sacred place and as an outsider, she might be overstepping a boundary. This place was way too beautiful for her to be disrespecting it with her presence.

"We're still within the reef. Nothing big swims out here apart from txampaysye. We're safe. Some of the men take time away from the village and come here. Some of them cliff dive." Ao'nung catches a brief scrunch of her nose and eyebrows, an adorable expression if he wasn't trying to figure out her confusion, "You know-- cliff diving?"

Her expression falls into something more blank and impassive, unimpressed as she gestured to herself, "Do I look like I've lived around cliffs?"

He quips back in his own defense, "Do you not have an ikran rookery in the forest?"

"Well, yeah, but all the cliffs in Ayram Alusìng just lead to certain death. We don't have cliffs above water."

Ao'nung's jaw opened in disbelief, eyes bugging out of his skull as if she just told him the most unbelievable news of all time. The shock eventually wears off and is replaced by a shit-eating grin, the mischief she's grown accustomed to finally returning to his smile, "Come on. It'll be fun!"

He moves towards the cliffside and Y/n immediately reaches forward with a hand, words tumbling out, "Maybe some other time. We need to be home soon."

A mocking eyebrow ridge rises as he grins knowingly at her, "Are you sure you're not just scared?"

Her eyes narrow and her ears pin back, unwavering despite the nerves running about in her stomach, "I think you and I have been in enough trouble with our sa'sem as of late."

He relents then with a whiny groan, throwing his head up at the sky before coming back down to earth-- so to speak, "Fair enough."

The reef boy clicks his tongue, the ilu perking up attentively. Ao'nung moves to lead the way back home before he feels a hand briefly grip his arm, "Ao'nung."

He looks up, shocked as his eyes meet Y/n's, blue against yellow. Ao'nung's ilu makes a displeased noise, the creature doing a full-body shudder. Y/n didn't question it, but Ao'nung's gaze turned to the ilu, glaring down at it as if the animal betrayed him in some way shape or form. However, unbeknownst to Y/n, the ilu was only reacting to what it had felt through the bond after Ao'nung's name slipped past her lips. Ao'nung's glare relents after a moment, eyes glancing down at her small, alien hand touching his arm before he bravely glanced back up at her through his lashes.

She smiled, genuinely, like when she first saw the beauty of the archway. The attention sent a thrill up his spine, "Thank you for bringing me here."

His mouth felt dry, the tip of his ears burning but he was certain she couldn't tell in the dark. Perhaps the big ugly bruise her brother left on his face masked the embarrassment. He couldn't stare at her any longer and glanced back in the direction of the village, "You're welcome, Y/n."

Eclipse was over by the time they returned to the village. They had not returned as soon as they left, often finding themselves distracted during their swim home when either Ao'nung splashed her or Y/n chased him around on their ilu. Either way, their mounts weren't irritated, equally playful and mischievous as their riders. The young N'avi pair both felt estranged when they heard the other laugh, but it only egged them on to play around more, wanting to hear their laugh again. By the time they exhausted themselves from playing, they realized how much time had passed and finally returned to the village.

The only problem was that the village seemed tense upon their return. The joy quickly fled from Ao'nung and Y/n's faces, both scared and worried they were in trouble. However, the attention was not on the pair of teenagers, but on the gunship with war paint parked quietly on the bank closest to the Sullys' marui.

Ao'nung grabbed Y/n's shoulder instinctively and pulled her back to him, hissing at the sight of the gunship, "Sky People."

Y/n huffed and shoved his hand away, hope in her eyes with a small smile at the sight of the familiar war paint, "No, not these ones. These ones are loyal to the Na'vi and live among my clan."

Cautious and a little paranoid, Ao'nung only relented a little and eyed her down, "What are they doing here?"

That's where the hope died in her eyes, worry replacing it, "I don't know. I doubt nothing good."

The pair quickly rush to the Sullys' marui, finding a crowd of curious and equally paranoid Metkayina crowding up and down the walkways leading up to Y/n's home, worrying her further. Of course, it's always her family...

The first face she recognized was her twin, surrounded by Lo'ak and Rotxo. She rushed to her brothers with Ao'nung not far behind her, "'Teyam?" Neteyam spun around and his posture visibly relaxed, hand reaching out to gently grab the back of her neck as she looked around, "What's happening?"

"Kiri had a seizure underwater." He answered, eyes briefly glancing to Ao'nung standing behind his sister, taking note of it but not addressing it.

"What?" Y/n's eyes widen, her voice dropping to a whisper, shaking in fear.

"I don't know what happened." Rotxo explained, glancing between the teens who had just arrived, "I've never seen anything like it."

Ao'nung frowned, "Where are my mother and sister?"

"They're on their way. But there's Sky People in there, examining Kiri."

"I told you," Lo'ak addressed the concerned Rotxo, "Max and Norm are our friends. They want to help her."

Ao'nung turned to Y/n, "Aren't you the tsakarem of your clan? You could go to your sister."

Y/n shook her head, pulling Neteyam's hand off her head and squeezing it before letting go, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, "I chose not to be. Either Neteyam will find a mate who can be tsahik one day... or Kiri can do it. She's been more fascinated by it than I. And she had been teaching Tuk a thing or two..."

Y/n's eyes widen as a thought dawns on her, looking around before addressing her brothers, "Where's Tuk?"

"She's with Kiri."

"She shouldn't have to see something like that. She's too little."

Before Y/n could rush to the marui to fetch her baby sister, the tsahik arrived. Ronal glides through the crowds as they part for her, the destination the only thing on her mind. Tsireya walked close behind her with her mother's supplies gathered in her arms, handing them to her before Ronal stepped into the home. Tsireya remained outside, turning back to her group of friends, and managing to catch Y/n by the shoulders before she stepped into the marui.

"Let her work, Y/n. My mother needs the space and there are already plenty of people in there."

"But--"

"Your parents and Tuk are with Kiri," the reef girl spoke gently, smiling with understanding and kindness as she guides Y/n away, "She is not alone, I promise. She'll be alright."

The group of teens keep a reasonable distance away from the marui, sitting or standing around in each other's company as they waited. Tsireya kept Y/n close to her as if she was waiting for the Omatikaya girl to bolt. Meanwhile, Y/n took note that her father had brought Norm and Max out of the home, but her mother, sister, and Ronal were nowhere to be found, and that made her more anxious than before.

Rotxo tried breaking the silence, glancing up at his childhood friend, "So what have you been up to today, Ao'nung?"

Ao'nung, who had his arms crossed while crouched down, glanced up casually, "I went to the Arch today."

"Without me? Not cool, man."

The dig was playful as Ao'nung moved to shove him, "Well, you went to the Cove without me."

Tsireya giggled, "But you hate the Cove, Ao'nung."

Ao'nung's ears pin back and his gaze lowers to the weaving patterns of the walkway below his feet, embarrassed, "I do not."

"Do, too. You think it's boring."

"I wanna see the Cove," Lo'ak perked up, "And the Spirit Tree."

Tsireya practically beamed, ducking her head a little bashfully, "I'll take you next time."

"And me?" Y/n asked, smirking to herself when she watched her little brother's face fall at the idea of her tagging along.

Lo'ak tries brushing his disappointment away with a scoff, "Maybe Ao'nung can take you, sis."

"Or we could all go together," Tsireya offered.

Y/n could tell that Tsireya was just trying to be nice. Well, Tsireya is always nice, but sometimes she's a little too nice. She'll gladly let Y/n come along even if it meant not having as much time with Lo'ak. It was disgusting how obvious those two were. Y/n rolls her eyes jokingly and shakes her head, "Nah. Never liked being a third wheel. You kids have fun."

Lo'ak choked as he tried to form words of disagreement while the other kids laughed and Tsireya's cheeks darken a deeper shade of blue. Finally, Lo'ak managed to form words and they were clearly defensive, "You have never been a third wheel ever in our lives!"

Y/n quirks an eyebrow, "Bro, have you seen Kiri and Spider?"

"That's different! You know they don't like each other that way!"

"What way are you referring to?" Y/n grins wolfishly, tilting her head as Lo'ak realized she had caught him in a web, "And what makes you think I was implying you and Tsireya felt that way?"

As the younger Sully boy sputtered, Neteyam groans a little, nudging Y/n, "Alright, that's enough. Leave him alone or he's going to whine to me later."

"Yeah, Forest Girl," Y/n's eyes dart to the sound of his voice, catching the usual grin plastered on Ao'nung's face, "Let the little ones go. I'll take you to the Cove a different day."

Lo'ak bristled at the words, glaring at Ao'nung, "I take it back, Y/n. You can come with us."

Author's Note: Did I write this so I'd have a reason to call Ao'nung 'Seaweed Brain'? Yes, yes I did. For those who understood the reference I fucking love you.

Also, I don't personally ship Kiri and Spider, I just kind of used the pairing as a foothold for Y/n's brothers to tease her. I think they're cute, and I thought that's originally what James Cameron was going for, but the more I look into it the more I think they just love each other like siblings. In the graphic novel 'The High Ground', Kiri even states that she loves Spider like a brother and Spider doesn't question it. I think he loves her like an older sister because she protects him against other Na'vi (Neytiri) and she sticks up for him. She makes him feel like he belongs, hence why he chose her over Quaritch. Also, Kiri is played by Sigourney Weaver. I don't feel comfortable shipping two characters whose actors have zero chemistry and have a huge age gap. Clearly, I think their relationship will build up to something in the upcoming movies (Kiri uses her Eywa powers to grant Spider a kuru braid and he'll be able to breathe Pandoran air without a mask) but I don't think it'll have anything to do with romance.

That's my personal take on it. No hate to Spider/Kiri shippers. I know not everyone ships certain pairings and hates others because of their opinions and that's not what I was doing. I support Kiri/Spider shippers through and through. I also support Neteyam/Spider shippers (lowkey kinda cute) and Lo'ak/Spider shippers (also lowkey cute). Personally, I ship Ao'nung/Neteyam and I know people are going to hate me for that. But I don't hate people for shipping who they want.

Anyway, that's my PSA that ties to this Ao'nung x reader. Hope you enjoyed it!

The 'anla series masterlist here

[asterrx]

choi san x male reader

Thank You Officer

warning: police san; au, no proofread,bottom reader,mention of rape,big d san,height difference,mouthfucking,bellybulge,car sex,etc.

!!!PLEASE BEAR WITH HOW CRINGE THIS IS!!!

It was a quiet saturday evening, you were walking home, from your best friend's house. There were only few people around and it was getting dark.

Cold breeze blows, the leaves of the trees falling,scattered on the road, you are feeling cold.

As you walked along the road on the sidewalk, you see a man staring at you, he dosen't look so kind, he's probably drunk. You try to walk past him but he grabbed your hand

"Hi there pretty boy", he says, he reeks of alcohol, he is big, muscular and his beard looks as if it haven't been shaved for a whole decade.

You ignore his words and try to run away, but he is too strong, there's no way you could escape his grip.

"Don't be scared baby, I don't bite unless you want me to", he says.

"Please leave me alone...", you start to cry, tears forming on the corner of your eyes. He's so scary, his looks were like that of a wild beast.

As you are struggling with him, trying to run away from him, crying, a tall figure appears from the other side of the road, walking towards the two of you. His face isn't clearly visible in the dark, he approaches you, and in the pale moonlight his police uniform looks so good in him. It fits him so well that it looks like it is a part of his body, his facial features are sharp, hie is tall and muscular, he looks so good, it is like every strand of his hair is in its own assigned position, he is perfect.

When the man see's the police, he quickly run away, now you are finally free from him. You are breathing heavily, still sobbing, you have thought that you were gonna be raped.

The police officer stands in front of you, so tall, you were only about the height of his shoulder, "What was that?", he said in a low uet clear voice. You panicked, his voice was so sexy, you just stared at him with even noticing it.

If this isn't love at first sight what would it be.

"Was that your boyfriend?" the man asked, you just shake your head. "You were causing trouble, isn't it?" he asked again. "N-no", you replied. The name tag on his shirt said 'Choi San', that's his name.

"Thank you Officer Choi San", you just bursted out, the older smiled, he probably thinks you're cute.

"For what?", he said, "For saving me" quiclky replied. "That man was assaulting me", you continued.

"It's not a surprise, you're just too cute", he said smirking. You were in shock when you heard that, he thinks you're cute. His words were lingering in your head.

"Do you want me to walk you home?", he said, you just smiled at him and nodded.

"I was hoping you'd say yes", he said, he is very good at flirting, you're already falling for him.

On the way home the both of you are chatting and San is flirting from time to time. You feel connected to him somehow even though you just met him. The two of you walked past a restaurant.

"Are you hungry?", San asked, but before you could answer him, the growling of your stomach speaks for itself. "But I don't have any money", you said, "It's on me, don't worry", he said.

"I feel like I owe you so much" you said, "It's okay", he ssid and smiled.

The restaurant was a new one, so their soju was 'buy 1 get 1 for free', San ordered three bottles and a lot of food.

Several minutes passed and you were already so drunk, San wasn't. You totally forgot that you are a lightweight drinker, you are now very very drunk.

San asked for your adress but you didn't tell him, you can't remember it. He decided to just take you to his house. He carries you on his back and started to head home.

At the front door of his apartment, he puts you down. You stared at him and said, "Wow, you're hot", San just smiled, "I want to kiss your lips", you said, you are like a completely different person when you are drunk, you are very bold.

San was silent, suddenly he grabs your waist, pulling you in his embrace,he leans down and started kissing you, first softly and slowly, and then its get more and more passionate. Few minutes passed and now you're, inside his apartment.

As soon as you get in, San took your tshirt off, after that he unbutton his uniform. Both of you are now shirtless. You continue kissing, both of your tongues exploring each other's mouth. Then, San lifts you up and sucking your nipple, his pants weren't able to hide his huge boner.

Minutes passed and you were naked, still kissing, San still had his underwear on, his bulge was grinding against you. Then you pulled away from him, and knelt down on your knees.

You slowly pulled down his pants, freeing his huge dick which was as hard as rock. Then, you kissed his tip, a low groan escaped his lips, tgen you started licking the tip and slowly taking his length down your throat,he is pretty vocal in bed with his groans and soft moans, but there's no way it would fit in your mouth.

You bobbed your head uo and down on his dick, swirling your tongue around the tip and stroking the part that you couldn't fit in your mouth, he let out groans. San grew impatient, your movements weren't able to satisfy him, he just grabbed the back of your head and told you to open wide, then, he positioned his cock on your mouth and started facefucking you,his deep groans and moans were so hot, his tip hit the back of your throat gagging you, you look up at him with teary puppy eyes.

San then lifts you up and laid you on the bed, he laid on top of you, he spread both of your legs and he licks his fingers and then he insert his index finger on your hole which is soon followed by the other two fingers.

After you're loosened up, he smeared his spit on his cock with his hand and the stroked it up and down, he then placed his cock on you entrance and slowly pushing in, only the tip is in but you were already a moaning mess. He always asked if you were okay to make sure you're not in pain. Then he suddenly thrusted it all in making you scream in a mix of pleasure and pain, he was so big that a bulge formed in your belly, San palmed it, he thinks its hot. Sounds of moaning and skin slapping filled the room, he started moving faster and faster, harder and harder, at this point you will not last any longer, there's no more pain, pure pleasure filled your whole body, then you reached your climax, spurting ropes of cum on your stomach and on San's chest.

San still continues to fuck you for several minutes, then he felt his orgasm drawing near, that's when his thrusts started to become sloppy, but still keeping up the pace, then his cock grew harder and finally, he shoots his thick, hot cum inside your hole, your hole is now filled with cum, some leaking out.

After the two of you washed up, both of you lay in bed, you're thinking about how you're sleeping with someone who you've just met, then you quickly fell into a deep slumber

[asdfghjklmals]

FAIRYTALES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 1.1k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. boyfriend!gojo. adoptedkiddo! tsumiki.

SYNOPSIS: tsumiki thinks oc gojo girlfriend and satoru's love story is based off of a fairytale. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i kid you not, beauty and the beast came up on shuffle while i was showering and this is how this fic was born. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“(y/n)! gojo-sensei!” tsumiki frantically yelled for her guardians from her bedroom. you and satoru dropped everything you were doing in a blink of an eye and ran to her room.

“tsumiki, are you okay?” you breathlessly asked, worried that she was hurt.

“(y/n)!” tsumiki excitedly screamed your name. you and satoru sat on the floor at the foot of her bed, tsumiki with her book in her hand.

“what’s going on?” satoru asked, “talk to us, sweetheart.”

“gojo-sensei! i just finished reading beauty and the beast! and it’s about you and (y/n)!” tsumiki said with enthusiasm to her white haired guardian.

you and satoru looked at each other with puzzled blue and green eyes. you both started laughing. what in the world was going on in that imagination of hers?

“haven’t you heard the song for beauty and the beast?!” tsumiki looked at you and satoru with hopeful eyes. satoru rested his elbow on tsumiki's bed and perched his cheek in the palm of his hand. he was very interested in what she had to say.

you laughed and asked your 7 year old to tell you and satoru what was going on in that pretty little brunette head of hers. “how about you entertain us, baby girl?”

“look at the song words!” tsumiki pointed at her book, getting a little agitated that you and satoru weren’t understanding her. you and satoru looked over at the page she was referring to.

‘tale as old as time, true as it can be.’

“grandpa genkei said that you and gojo-sensei are part of an old love story. something like 400 years old! that’s the ‘tale as old as time’ part!” tsumiki said with bright eyes. you looked over at satoru and started chuckling. tsumiki was referring to the legend of the water user and the six eyes from 400 years ago. your grandfather must have really entertained the kids during your last visit back to osaka.

‘barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly.’

“then!” tsumiki started babbling again, “you and gojo-sensei didn’t like each other when you first met, right?”

“right.” you insistently nodded. satoru rolled his eyes at you and pushed your shoulder playfully, shooting you a toothy grin.

satoru then added with a sly smile, “—but (y/n) finally gave up and started liking me.”

“you’re such a liar.” you laughed, smacking his arm with the back of your hand. you turned back to tsumiki, “your gojo-sensei was the ‘somebody who bends unexpectedly’.”

‘just a little change, small to say the least.’

“okay, what about this next line?” you pointed at the page in the book. you were curious at how she would connect these lyrics in that 7 year old brain of hers.

tsumiki thought to herself for a moment, “i think this is about when you and gojo-sensei adopted me and megumi!”

“adopting you two was a little change, huh?” satoru scoffed, knowing that adopting the two fushiguros changed both his and your lives drastically.

‘both a little scared, neither one prepared.’

“this is also for when you and gojo-sensei adopted me and megumi!” tsumiki added, “—but mainly for gojo-sensei because he doesn’t know how to really take care of kids.”

you thought back on the time not too long ago where satoru had to learn how to do tsumiki's hair when you weren't able to in the mornings. he practiced how to braid and tie ponytails on your hair for a solid two weeks before he attempted to do tsumiki's hair. now, he was an expert at up-dos, all types of braids, and ponytails. he always bought cute hair clips and accessories for tsumiki because of it.

“you know... your gojo-sensei tries really hard to be a good guardian,” you pinched satoru’s cheek as he pouted with slight embarrassment in his face, his arms were crossed on tsumiki’s bed, cradling his head as he watched tsumiki. “—and he definitely wasn’t prepared to be a guardian, but we made it work when you two came into our lives.” you smiled at the both of them. you wouldn't have it any other way.

‘beauty and the beast.’

“okay, i have a question,” satoru began to ask once he saw the last line, “who’s the beauty and who’s the beast, tsumiki?”

tsumiki put her hand on her chin and thought very carefully about her answer. “(y/n) is the beast and gojo-sensei is the beauty!”

satoru bursted out laughing, holding his stomach as he rolled around the floor, tears in his eyes from how funny he thought tsumiki’s answer was. your jaw dropped, you looked at tsumiki in despair.

“are you sure, baby girl?” you asked, hoping she’d change her mind, satoru still laughing in the background. you surely thought satoru was the beast and you'd be the beauty. “why do you think that?”

“because! gojo-sensei is the beauty because he’s pretty! and the main character belle is pretty, all the boys like her just like the girls like gojo-sensei!” she continued to ramble, “then! you’re always scary when me and megumi get in trouble, but then you go back to being so pretty and nice after, just like the beast does!”

you bit your tongue, how could anyone be mad at that reasoning? you and satoru laughed alongside your very creative and wildly imaginative adopted daughter. you wished that she could stay young and innocent forever, just like the young and innocent love you and satoru shared.

EXTRA:

“kids and their imaginations, huh?” satoru whispered to you as you both snuck out of tsumiki’s room, quietly shutting the door behind him after she fell asleep for the night. you giggled, grabbing his hand to retreat to your bedroom across the apartment. (click here to see the apartment layout)

you playfully bumped your hip into his, “well, prince charming. aren’t you gonna sweep me off my feet?”

“i’d love nothing more, princess.” satoru grinned with satisfaction. he liked what he was hearing. your white haired, blue eyed prince charming swiftly lifted you into his arms. you planted a sweet kiss on his cheek as you held his face in the palm of your hands.

“i love you, mr. beauty.” you giggled, sneaking another kiss.

satoru admired you and your cheeky smile before bantering back, “i love you too, my little beast.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[cautuscoralcoast]

Definitely Not A Date!

Rayne Ames x Reader

Synopsis - You never had friends growing up. A runaway child, you were too cautious to make friends. When with the Whitechapel couple, you were too occupied with your studies. When a student at Easton Magic Academy, everyone else already had friends, and there was no room for you. You never expected to make friends, much less Rayne Ames of all people. Even so, you're glad you have him as a friend; However, because you never had friends one in your life, you don't know how friends actually work.

It doesn't help that Rayne asked you out on a date while specifying that it's as friends; But friends don't date, right?

Word Count: 2.1k

Part of "You, Me, Rabbits, and Magical Beasts" series. Click the tag to find all works in the series.

Rayne is an enigma to you.

Rayne Ames is the prefect of Adler and Divine Visionary. He is the person all the boys strive to be and the one all girls want to date; Rayne was popular despite his cold exterior: You were always in the background, all alone. Yet, somehow — someway, you befriended him.

It's an odd dynamic.

You're an average student, and Rayne is a prodigy. There are times when you struggle with the most basic of assignments that he is able to complete flawlessly. The only thing subject you best him at is Magic Zoology. When it comes to handling magic beasts, there is no one who bests you — not even Rayne.

Rayne does his best to help you with school assignments: And you do your best to help him care for his hundreds of rabbits. Though it may appear as a mutual relationship, you two are friends. You two do enjoy spending time together and talking about interests. Rayne talks about rabbits and work: You talk a lot about magical beasts and ethology. Though this relationship may have originally been mutualistic, it has been able to become a true and mutual friendship. Even if Rayne couldn't help you with schoolwork, you'll still be happy to stay by his side. If you were no longer able to help Rayne take care of the rabbits' medical needs, he'll still be content with hearing you speak.

This relationship —friendship— is something special to you. You never had anything to call your own, and that included friends; However, now you have Rayne.

Rayne Ames is your only friend.

That being said, you are unsure of your feelings towards him. You don't know how friends should act towards each other. You don't know what friends do other than talk to each other. You don't know what you should be feeling for your friends. The Whitechapel couple never told you how to make friends or what it means to be friends.

Do friends feel flustered when around each other?

Probably not.

It's something you noticed a while after officiating your friendship. You now find yourself staring at him during class. You see yourself admiring him in the reflection of the courtyards' fountain. You can't help but feel extreme bouts of happiness when you see Rayne playing with the rabbits. He's always so serious, and to suddenly see him surrounded by small, cute rabbits, you can't help but smile. While friends may respect and find joy in eachothers company, you doubt that friends feel their hearts race when with each other.

You don't know where this feeling came from; It's not like Rayne is doing anything different from the first day you two stepped foot onto the academy. He is still the same as when you two first spoke — so what is any different now? You feel as if you're sick whenever you see Rayne. Never do you feel yourself, nor do you feel normal. Rayne Ames makes your heart race: He makes you do things you never thought you would do.

Love.

That's what this feeling has to be: There is no other explanation. Love is an awful wretched feeling. You loved to be friends with Rayne, but anything more than that you were scared of. Love was a curse: If it wasn't for the love of power, then you could've had a childhood. Love was conditional: If you were a two-liner, they would have allowed you to eat at the dinner table. Love is terrifying — Does that make Rayne terrifying?

Rayne is powerful: He was so powerful, in fact, that they made him Divine Visionary. There was no position lesser than that that could be worth his time. Rayne is a two-liner: He had what you didn't and excelled at magic that you could only dream of. Rayne is rude, disrespectful, apathetic, and prideful.

"Are you an idiot or just dumb?"

Rayne couldn't grasp the difference in talent between you two. The only thing you were good for was anything dealing with magical beasts and certain animals; Anything else, not so good.

"It's not my fault! I only learned how to read when I was like nine!"

This led to frustrating moments when Rayne couldn't understand why you couldn't understand the basic things. You never got the chance to learn as a child. You never had books, toys, pencils, nothing at all. You never learned math, science, or language arts; It was only when the Whitechapels took you in that you were able to learn. Due to this stunt in your developmental years, you still struggle with some subjects: Reading and writing being the hardest ones. If it's not related to zoology or science, you have a difficult time with it.

"You say it like this—"

Even so, you love the way he tries to help you. Rayne isn't good at teaching others, and yet, he still tries to help. You two stay up late at the library: Rayne tutoring you the best he can. He may not understand your struggles, nor does he push you to tell him why. Rayne is kind; He is rude, mean, condescending, but he cares.

You see how different his words are from his actions. You see how happy he is when involving rabbits. You see and feel how gentle he is when helping you. Rayne is far from being terrifying.

If Rayne was gentle, does that mean love is the same?

"I'm going out during the weekend; The headmaster wants me to pick something up. Do you want to go into town with me?"

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him in confusion. "To pick something up? Do you need help with it?"

"No, I'll do that myself. What I meant to ask was if you wanted to go out with me: Kind of like a date, but without the romantic part. I needed to buy other things while there and thought you would've liked to go too."

"I—It would be nice."

You just wish he didn't say it like. A date? You don't want to ruin your friendship just because of your feelings. Rayne was your only friend, and you didn't want to lose him. Besides, he only meant it as two friends hanging — because friends don't date each other.

When the date— weekend arrived, you rushed to try on an assortment of outfits. Never in your life did you have to dress nice for someone else. Though it wasn't a date, you still wanted to look your best. Finally, deciding on an outfit, you got your other belongings and left your dorm.

Rayne did say he would meet you outside the dorms; You just didn't expect him to be waiting outside your dorm room.

"Rayne? What are you doing out here?"

"I'm waiting for you, obviously." Rayne scoffed at your ignorance and said, "Well? Why are you just standing there? Let's go."

Walking next to him, you noticed how he was dressed. Rayne was dressed better than you thought he would. It was an odd sight to see dressed so casual, but it was not an unwelcome one! Not wanting to be caught staring, you looked away. Never in your life did you want the silence to go away more than now. You felt as if he could hear the pounding of your heartbeat.

"Do you think they would prefer banana flavor over pumpkin?"

"Rabbits do tend to enjoy actual bananas; Though I'm not too sure about the flavor...."

You can't believe you forgot it was Rayne who you were hanging out with. Raynes Ames: The only man in the world obsessed with rabbits that he is willing to drop everything if it means seeing one for a second. So, of course, the only reason he asked you out was so you could help purchase things for his rabbits.

"You're a zoology major!"

Doesn't mean you specialize in rabbits.

Regardless, you're happy to help Rayne after he spent hours tutoring you for free. He's a good friend.

"So, banana?"

"Let me see the ingredients....."

This is why he brought you. Rayne may know more about rabbits, but he can't help but trust your judgment over his — especially when it came to animal health. You may not be the brightest or smartest, but you were the best when it came to magical beasts and rabbits.

"What feed do you think is best for their health?"

"I don't know?! You've been raising them! Not me!"

"You specificalize in—"

"—animals, magical beasts. Yeah, and? I don't intend to study domesticated animals! Rabbits included!"

"....Is the feed good for them or not?"

"Yeah....It's actually one of the best well-balanced feeds I've ever seen for any animal species."

"All that complaining just to circle around."

What the actual hell was that supposed to mean?

Rayne Ames is the one you love: He also is the one who irritates you the most. He's so mean and overall frustrating! So what if he has his own way of caring? He's so annoying and rude! He always gives you this knowing look whenever you ask him a question. He always gives you the most cryptic answer and scoffs when you misinterpret it! Rayne Ames, the most serious man known to everyone at the academy, likes messing with you purposely and admitted it.

Why do you even like someone like him?

......

Love is weird: You suppose it's because of all those frustrating moments that you fell for him out of all people. Rayne makes you mad; He makes you irritated; He makes you happy; He makes you laugh; Rayne makes you blush.

You love how normal he is in contrast to his cold persona. Rayne loves rabbits and cares for his friends. Rayne may be intelligent, but he struggles with teaching others. Rayne is serious, however, he can also be sarcastic and humorous at times.

You're in love with Rayne Ames.

"Hey Rayne, look at me." You put on some rabbit ears you found at costume shop. You thought it would be funny to surprise Rayne with it. "I'm a rabbit."

Rayne turned to look at you and just stared. You were expecting a response of some kind, and instead, you just got a deadpan stare. He looked disappointed and looked away without a word.

"Rayne—Rayne! Why'd you look away? It was a joke!"

"I'm just going to say, it'll take more to sway me over."

"I got the rabbit ears and everything, and it still wasn't enough!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"All you need to know is that I spent the rest of my money on these."

".....Really?"

You wanted to bury yourself on top of a hill.

"Yeah," you meekly said as you hid your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

"Ahmm."

Did he laugh?

"Hahehahaa!" It was difficult not to follow along. No matter how embarrassed you were, the situation was hilarious, and hearing him chuckle for the first time was enough to make you happy. You just can't believe it took wearing rabbits to make him laugh.

Rayne Ames makes you unbelievably happy. This love of yours wasn't so terrible: Rayne is rude and blunt — so was love. Rayne is gentle and kind — so was love. Rayne makes you feel levels of joy and excitement you have never felt before — so does love.

Hanging out for the first time with Rayne mad enough realize something: You don't mind keeping this a secret if it means you two can continue being friends. You don't wish to lose this special friendship just because you yearned for something more. You're fine with just being in love if it means you can still walk by his side.

"Rayne, what do you think about the girls in our classes?" You asked out of pure curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

"Well....It's just that they always talk about you in a romantic sense, and I wondered if you ever received love confessions."

Rayne stopped walking and thought for a moment. "Love confessions......I have received a handful before. Some were outside my dorm, and others were handed directly."

Though you already knew about his popularity, you still felt your heart tighten at the thought of others liking Rayne the same you do. It's only natural that you're hurt by this.

"How'd you react?"

"I would always turn them down, and they would always cry."

"Huh...I wonder why?"

"I'd also like to know— You were being sarcastic, weren't you?"

"Now! Why would I ever do that?" Turning around, you saw Rayne glaring at you. Perhaps you pushed your limit for the day. "Aye! It was just a joke!"

You love Rayne Ames, and that didn't scare you. Even so, you treasure the friendship you built with him and refuse to tear it down. You're alright with just being friends.

After all,

Friends don't date.

Thank you for reading!

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Forced Family

A Hero x Villain series I'll be working on! Thank you to @stillnotserious for the idea!

Part 1

Hero turned when they heard the familiar click of Villain’s boots on the rooftop concrete.

“Took you long enough,” Hero said with a smirk, “were you out fighting other heroes?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Villain said, “you know you’re the only crime-fighter for me.”

Hero and Villain closed the distance between each other and embraced. Hero breathed in Villain’s familiar scent and relaxed in their hold. Their warm body soothed Hero’s naturally cold form. Who said fire and ice couldn’t mix?

“So what did you call me here for?” Hero asked.

“I want you to meet someone,” Villain said.

Villain turned Hero around so they could see a figure descend on the rooftop. Hero held in a gasp but couldn’t stop their eyes from growing wide as Supervillain approached them.

“Hello, Hero,” Supervillain said warmly, “Villain’s told me an awful lot about you.”

“…H-hi,” Hero stammered.

“Hero, this is my parent figure,” Villain explained, “they took me in when no one else would.”

Supervillain strode closer. Hero felt themselves shrinking back into Villain’s chest. Villain chuckled and put a comforting hand on Hero’s shoulder.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” Supervillain continued, “I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“The… the opposite?” Hero asked.

“Mhm. I’m here to bring you home as the newest member of the family.”

Wait what? Hero was just about to ask what Supervillain meant when they felt it. A prick in their neck, and the warm, comforting hand on their shoulder becoming far too hot and restricting. Hero tried to break free from Villain’s grip, but Villain turned them around and held them close.

“V-V’lin,” Hero slurred.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Villain said, rubbing their hand up and down Hero’s back, “I knew you wouldn’t agree to this so we had to go about it another way.”

Hero’s knees buckled, Villain now being the only thing holding them up. Their vision went blurry. Hero blinked to clear it but the more they did so the harder it was to keep their eyes open. The world, which was already spinning, tilted on its axis as Villain maneuvered them into a bridal carry. Hero’s head lolled of its own accord into Villain’s chest.

“Let… leggo…”

“And leave you here on the rooftop?” Supervillain laughed, “don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t be scared,” Villain said soothingly, “just go to sleep. That’s it.”

Hero’s eyes fluttered shut, heavy as lead. Their thoughts turned to scrambled nonsense while they felt a gentle rocking sensation. Their breathing grew deep as the drug sucked them down. The last thing they heard was Villain’s voice.

“Welcome to the family, Hero.”

Part 2

ko-fi

tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm

[redsaurrce]

MYSTERY TO ME 1

summary . Wednesday liked mysteries, except... this one. The mystery which was you.

pairing . Wednesday x gn!reader

warning . mentions of blood, murder and kissing

MYSTERY TO ME 2

x--

You stare out of the window of your room to the endless horizon when your eyes dart to the field where Wednesday was shooting perfect arrows with Xavier. You've never known what love feels like, fair enough since every school you went to, you automatically became THE outcast. Love? Surely not something you'd have experienced.

It was bad, really. Bad when you were given judging looks, bad when you were alone in the forest standing in front of a dead body, your nails painted red, painted with the bully's blood.

For the first time that day you felt like you would lose your mind, because since then everytime someone triggered you, you would lose conscience and when you come back to your senses, you have had already killed someone. It was hard to explain, hard to believe even.

So you tried recording yourself while facing just another bully in another school and when you later on watched the camcorder, you saw a beast.. a beast which was you. Red eyes, scary aura and a murderous look.

You found out that your parents tried everything to keep their secret from you thinking that maybe if you never know, you might get out of it soon.

But truth sure comes to light one way or the other.

You thought there was no cure to this, until last night when Wednesday had told you to tag along with her to investigate the Nightshades case. You both were on your way to Xavier's shed where he kept his paintings.. rather scandalous paintings. The night was darker than usual which made you uneasy so you clung to Wednesday causing her to snap her head towards you.

"Dear Wednesday please don't slap away my hands now. It's scary you know." You gulped as you looked at the skies and then at front. Wendesday pursed her lips as she saw your scared face.

"Too bad. I should have brought Bianca instead." She said and looked forwards. You looked at her in disbelief, "Why do I remember someone saying that they even hate to breathe the same air as Bianca?" She kept quite, not because she was speechless but rather.. that was her way of rolling eyes.

"Here we are. If you don't want to come inside, you can stay here." She said as she removed your hands from her arm.

Which unexpectedly made you a little sad. You scoffed, "Isn't going inside safer than staying outside in the wild here?" You commented and walked straight inside as soon as she unlocked the door using her shenanigans until your eyes went wide looking at a monster standing right in front of you with hungry eyes.

In a span of seconds you lost your conscience only to become your beast self again but before you could encounter the monster, Wednesday came from behind attacked it.

You then saw her and the moment you tried to attack her from behind, luckily she escaped away but with a scratch in her forearm. She shouted your name, "_________ wake up! The monster's gone, it was only a painting!"

Slowly your visions became blurry and then turned to clearer. You saw Wednesday and at once ran towards her when you saw blood dripping from her forearm. "I-I'm so sorry Wednesday, I didn't want to hurt you at all." Your eyes became teary, why in the world would you attack her?

She sighed lightly, "It's just a scratch. Don't give me that look."

"I'm really sorry I didn't want to do that at all.." Your breathing became faster, "First aid.. does Xavier keep a first aid box here?" You started searching everywhere frantically but halted at once when Wednesday said, "Wait." She cocked her eyebrows, "How do you know it was you who attacked me and not the monster? As far as I know.. and if you've been honest with me, you said that you know nothing when you switch on your beast mode?"

You looked at her and then looked away to think about the same, "Wednesday I've never once lied to you.. but, ah.." You shut your eyes close as you tried to recall what happened moments ago.

"But what?" For Wednesday this looked just another mystery that increased her curiosity. Even though she liked mysteries and puzzles but this one... she's feeling different about this one.

She's feeling something else, a feeling of a parent looking at their child ride the bike for the first time. A feeling of concern. She has never felt liked this ever before, you were making her feel them.

"But I suddenly remember my name being called out! it felt like a wake up call, it felt like someone just woke me up from sleep and in my blurred vision I saw your terrified face, it was a face that a victim would make in front of the attacker, not a friend." You said and then looked straight into her eyes, "Which also brings me to the question, why didn't you counter-attack me? I clearly had harmed you."

The question felt like a dagger into Wednesday's chest, unexpectedly ofcourse, it wasn't like she had any feelings for you that your thought of her attacking you would hurt her.. right?

She looked away, "Then we clearly would have had to keep on fighting and that would waste my time. Speaking of which, we should go now."

--

When you looked outside the window, the words of Wednesday stormed your head, "She was lying, she's not the type to take blows." You murmured.

You rested your chin on the bedside, "Would things get better if I move again, I don't want to see the face Wednesday made yesterday ever again." A teardrop rolled down your cheeks.

Your parents were ridiculously rich which might explain the fact of you getting away with all sorts of murders you had committed so far. If you were to request your mother to move you again, they'd do it in a heartbeat.

"That's right, I should just leave. Wednesday deserves better friends." You said to yourself and curled yourself up in a blanket in a corner.

---

"What are you doing here Enid?" Wednesday looked through her dark long lashes at the ever so energetic and cheerful girl in front of her. "Well the thing is that ___________ texted me and said that she/he can't make it."

"Why?" She asked with her darkening gaze. "Stomach ache I was told." Enid answered. Wednesday frowned because there it was, the feeling she felt last day, she was feeling concerned.

"I see. Then let us go." She said.

After two or so hours of texting Enid requesting her to go with Wednesday in place of you, you were getting restless already. "They must be having fun going on with the investigation, well at least Enid won't harm her." You sighed deeply when you jolted up at the sudden knock on the door.

"_____________, are you inside?" That was Wednesday's voice. And even before you could think, your body reacted quickly and you opened the door immediately.

"I thought you were having stomachache.. the door opened faster."

You nervously chuckled, "Oh well, I'm better now so.. yeah. What are you here for though? How did your investigation go?" You asked while eyeing the packet in her hand.

"We didn't go to investigate. We were at the infirmary. Here take the medicine." She forwarded the packet.

You were surprised to say the least but then you contorted your eyebrows, "Two hours at the infirmary?"

She looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite tell what it meant. "You kept the track of the time?"

You stuttered, "Uh-uh yeah sort of, I had nothing to do any wa--"

Before you could finish, she spoke, "The thing is I was waiting for you but instead Enid came approximately ten minutes ago and apologized for being late because she was on date with Ajax."

You gulped, did she kept waiting that long? She could've texted- oh right, she refuses to be the slave of technology.

"Uhm.. I'm sorry." You had nothing except to apologize to her, which.. felt so shitty because since yesterday you only felt sorry towards her. And maybe a little bit of something else which you weren't sure of. It was happening to you for the first time afterall.

"Oh I'm so sorry again, you've been at my door since the starting, please come inside." You said and turned around to let her in when she grabbed your wrist. "I hate it everytime you say sorry to me. Can you please stop doing that?" You weren't sure what to say because a train of emotions just hit you, with her doing something unexpected, to her saying something unexpected.

You shook your head, "About that I'm sor- I mean I'll be careful about it."

She then looked down at the place where she had held your wrist and you too shifted your focus to that, all you wanted was to grab her hands back but at that very instant she let go off it causing you to feel a sting in your heart.

She looked up and then noticed how empty your room looked like, earlier when she had come to your room she didn't like how much stuffy your room looked like, filled with all sorts of stuffs and posters, but now, it just seemed so much emptier.

Then she spotted cardboard boxes and trunks. "What's all this? Are you moving to another room or decided to sell things on thrift shop?" She asked you while looking around.

You smiled dryly, "None. I'm just going to change schools."

She shifted her focus from your photoframe that you decided to pack later, to you at once. "Why?" She asked you, even though she tried to hide her surprise, you could sense that from the tone of her voice.

"I don't know... I just don't want to hurt anyone." You shrugged. She walked towards you and stopped once your faces were mere inches away, "Whom did you hurt? Weems?"

You chuckled, "Ugh no!" Then you seized your chuckle with a subtle but sad smile, "You." You gulped.

Wednesday liked the way you chuckled, it made her want to make that expression too. About your answer, she didn't like that.

"Then where are you planning to go?" She asked you.

"Why? Are you planning to send me letters?" You said jokingly.

"No, you said that you don't want to hurt anyone, then.. will you shifting to another school solve your problems? Will you stop killing people?"

Your blinked as you looked away. "Only if it was under my control."

"That's right. And I am sure you were sent here just to do that. To gain control over your powers. Your parents made the right decision ________, don't go." She said.

You sighed, even though you wanted to put meaning behind her 'don't go' , you knew she was saying it just for the sake of it. "I'm not saying just because I have to ______________. " You frowned, "Does your psychic abilities gives you access to people's thoughts too? And don't you try to talk me out of it when you call your own parents evil people trying to pull your strings from afar. Remember?"

She looked at you amusingly, "It's not my psychic abilities, just that your face is like an open book so easy to read. About the second part, I have no comment."

"I am not easy to read Wednesday, it's just that you know me better than everyone else."

"What?"

"What?" Oh shoot! Did you just confess like that? You cleared your throat, "Uh- uh I mean, you are good at reading people's faces. That's what I'm saying. You managed to figure out what I'm thinking when it's really hard for others to do so."

"I.. am.. not good at reading people's faces ____________." She said slowly and firmly.

"What?"You blinked.

"People call me emotionless apparently because I am not good at reading room. They throw a fit when I don't seem to get what they want to say through their expressions. I had a tough time staying close to people, that is why I prefer solitude." She answered with a stoic expression.

"I see.. but you seemed to do well in my case?" You said with a half smile.

"Which is weird.. I know, but do you know what is weirder?" She asked while folding her arms.

"What?"

"You figuring out me. I don't remember anyone understanding me as much as you do since I lack emotions." She looked down for a split second, "You bother me."

You got confused, "... like in a good way?"

She started walking towards you with steps that felt like they would leave a mark on the floor, you stumbled back and sat down on the bed while she kept decreasing the distance in front of you. "Can you read me now?" You said with a shaky voice as your breathing became faster.

She leaned closer and closer, "Yes. Do you think I want the same thing as you do?" You felt so enchanted and dazed when you looked at her lips which resembled the dark shadows lurking in the forest that night. "Yes.. I guess?" You weren't sure what you were saying but if it was an invitation for a kiss, then yes, i guess?

"You're right." And those were the words you heard before you felt her soft lips against yours. You grabbed her nape to come closer for a deeper kiss. It was so slow yet it felt electrifying, it defied Wednesday's knowledge of electricity for sure.

At that moment you felt nothing but staying beside Wednesday forever and maybe.. maybe you now have an answer as to why you returned to yourself that night when Wednesday called out to you.

Maybe Wednesday was the last piece to your puzzle, maybe she was the answer to your question and you were more than willing to search for answers with her by your side.

Because to Wednesday too, you were another mystery that intrigued her.. in a good way.

"Don't go." She breathed as you both parted for air.

"I won't." You said and tilted your head to kiss her again. You felt her smile on your lips.

Which was rare and you were in for it.

--x

This was my first Wednesday work AAHHHH how was it T_T tysm for reading luvs &lt;;33

[lexsssu]

Season (Childe | Tartaglia)

TAGS: Childe/Dragoness!reader, a/b/o, heats/ruts, pregnancy, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again—”

“Fuck you, Tartaglia”

“Fuck me yourself, girlie. Or are you too scared because you’re a little lizard instead of the big bad dragon you keep saying you are~?”

You grit your teeth and huff in annoyance, crossing your arms as you tried in vain to ignore the shit-eating grin present on the Fatui Harbinger’s face.

“In your dreams”

“But you’re already in my dreams, girlie. And don’t even get me started on the kind of dreams you appear in, buuuuut let’s just say it involves a lot less clothes and talking~”

“Why you…!”

The ginger-haired male grinned as he nursed his bright red cheek, blue eyes never leaving your form even as you left in a furious huff. He knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you, the heady scent of an aroused omega that lay just beneath your own natural scent of smoke and flaming flowers.

You’ll come crawling to him soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And apparently he didn’t have to wait too long.

Spring itself had creeped in once more and with it, the inexplicable urge to mate. Just as animals hurriedly chirped, squawked, built nests, and all other ways to attract a possible mate, so did those born as alphas and omegas feel the stirrings of their primal nature trying to break through the surface.

Despite how much humanoids liked to think that they were above mere beasts, their secondary nature proved time and time again that they were merely rational animals capable of being as depraved and feral as any beast. For someone who was more in tune with their beastly nature, (You who proudly flaunted your draconic self as being a full dragon who merely chose to take on a more human form), made this season particularly unbearable.

“Well, well, well will you look at that…” the Fatui Harbinger licked his lips as his eyes darkened and dilated at the sight of you writhing against your bed in nothing but the thin piece of cloth that passed for smallclothes in Liyue. “Seems you’re having a bit of trouble there, girlie. Lucky for you I was passing by Wangshu Inn for some official business when I smelled how...distressed you were.”

“Is there anything I can possibly help you with~?”

If he didn’t have any self-restraint then he’d have rushed into your room the moment he first caught the scent of your heat, of your pheromones that beckoned him to partake of the sweet slick that dripped down your pussy which begged to be filled by a hard, alpha cock. Childe was already rock solid the moment he knew you were here, but he held himself back because he knew that the rewards he would reap from his small sacrifice will be worth all the wait.

You knew that this world had such a thing as secondary natures, namely Alphas, Betas, & Omegas. You’ve heard and read content that revolved around such a thing, but actually waking up in such a world and becoming a part of this dynamic was another thing altogether.

You knew that Omegas felt terrible during their heats without a partner to alleviate them, but archons above you didn’t know it felt this horrible!

Your body felt scorching hot, your throat felt absolutely parched, and the constant stream of wetness that had undoubtedly ruined your sheets was simply unbearable. Sadly, without an alpha to tend to your body’s needs you were left in agony for the better part of an hour already.

Mayhaps whatever beings had hurtled you through time and space into Teyvat felt sorry enough at your suffering, because you smelled Childe even before he opened the door to your room. You don’t even question how he managed to come in when you always locked the door, because all you wanted at this point was for him to quell the heat that threatened to consume you.

“Ch-childe...please…! It’s...it’s too hot!!!”

“Too hot? Where is it too hot? You gotta be more specific or else I can’t help”

The smirking ginger looked downright devious as he stood perfectly still just beside your bed, making no move to get closer even as the bulge in his pants twitched and tented against the fabric. Being this close to you when you were so ripe, so fertile and ready to be taken by him was taking every ounce of self-control in him.

You were close to breaking down in tears as relief was so close yet so far in the face of this sadistic man. Serves you right for pretending that he didn’t make your heart race whenever he deliberately provoked you with his silver tongue, that he didn’t make the most primal side of yourself purr & rumble with satisfaction whenever he showed his capabilities as a potential mate. 

“Here…! It feels too hot and empty here!!!” You press your hand against your pelvic area, specifically the exact spot where your womb was located. “It wants...no, it HAS to be filled up or I’ll die!”

There was no other way to describe the entirety of your feelings right now. Your body was ready and begging to be mated until you were practically overflowing with your alpha’s cum and pupped without question.

His cock twitched involuntarily, straining against its confines even more fervently at your words. He probably shouldn’t become so impossibly aroused (at least more so than he already was) right now, but can anyone blame him when the girl of his dreams was in front of them and begging so adorably?

“Please...I want you. I’ve always wanted you, but was just too stubborn to say it. You’re the only one I want so please…”

With the last remnants of your rationality, you ripped off the dudou from your body and with shaking hands spread your lower lips to show him the slick that generously dripped out of your twitching hole.

“...fill me up with your love”

With your admission, Childe’s own final thread of self-restraint snapped as he descended upon you like the ravenous beast you’d made him into. Propped up on your knees, hands pinned to the bed by his own and fingers intertwined, the young man prodded at the spot where your scent gland was with his nose before teasing the area with gentle licks and light nibbling.

“Hey, make sure to scream my name, okay? Oh, it’s Ajax by the way.”

You had no time to digest this secret he so generously provided you, not when he’d plunged the entirety of his cock inside your pussy until you could feel the tip nudging at the entrance to your womb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is only during the same season the year after begrudgingly acknowledging your attraction to the smooth-talking harbinger that you manage to find the time to meet with his family in Snezhnaya. However, you are not alone as you naturally brought along the product of your debauched and frantic mating the year before.

Teucer is over the moon at the knowledge of being a little uncle to the snoozing child in your arms, whereas the older members of Childe’s family including his older siblings and parents coo at your baby and congratulate you for taming the wayward boy you called your mate.

Such congratulations only received an eye roll from said boy, opting instead to possessively wrap an arm around your waist and prop his chin against your shoulder. He raised no objections from his family’s words seeing as they were all true anyway. Rather, he is comforted by the heat of your body and the sight of your precious child while surrounded by the warm wishes of the family that raised him.

[gardenofnoah]

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor

tags: nanami kento x reader, princess!reader, violence, injuries (minor), non-graphic descriptions of hunting, medium burn, sort of enemies to lovers but mostly scared strangers to unfortunate lovers, the fall of a dynasty, character death (sorry), reincarnation, bittersweet ending. mdni.

wc: 6.5k ish

notes: for @medusashima’s collab—indulging myself (and y’all) in my take on one of my favorite stories. i hope you like it 💘 this is based on the tale of the two fossils found wrapped up in each other in an unlikely pairing (which is made even better by the fact that it is not fiction and it happened!! love is real nerd!!). there’s a really phenomenal webtoon called burrow (by saige9) that makes me cry and that y’all should read immediately. anyway, enjoy. love u

summary: the world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. to love is an animal thing.

it shocks you, how gentle a tug it takes to unravel everything that you were. only a thing between two others—before: a princess on a hill, the unraveling, and who you’ll be after.

your feet stomp clumsily over dirt and jagged rock—softened soles split open easily with each stride. but, ever your grandmother's frightened little rabbit, not even that searing pain is enough to thwart you in your descent down the hill—away from what is surely certain death. nothing but the animal need to survive pushing you forward—to get to whatever comes next.

it happened too fast—the only way a dynasty can fall to those privileged enough not to notice the slow decline of the society around them until it's too late. your family spoke of pockets of uprisings as if they were fictitious and theoretical—some grandiose, far away prediction of the old crone that haunted the village below your compound, and certainly not the men concealed by shade of trees that had been pruned by your family for centuries, salivating but patient for the perfect moment to strike.

and then they were dead. all of them but you.

a childhood of exploring the grounds of your family home proves useful in knowing without much thought which paths lead farthest from the carnage at your back, but your fright makes you uncoordinated—mechanical in your stride. the price to stop for even a second is far too high, and the hounds that howl after you in the dark serve as a constant reminder of the consequence of hesitation. so, bruised and bleeding, you keep on.

you run until your lungs threaten to collapse and then on farther. your feet carry you through unfamiliar wood, but in your rush, your brain rationalizes that the repercussions of trespassing cannot be much worse than what's behind you. and that seems to be the truth—right up until the real consequence drops out of the tree above you and pins you to the earth below, a blade to your throat.

gritted teeth snap too close to your face. you hear a deep voice—maybe a deeper threat, something to raise the hair on the back of your neck if you could only focus on the words. the world spins and your mind struggles to make sense of the sudden stop in motion, but something far more animal inside you decides that it's had enough. against any remaining survival instinct, you feel all tension bleed from your body—the stranger's face comes into clearer view right as you go limp underneath him. resignation wins out—your limbs wouldn't move if you pleaded with them to.

blond eyebrows meet hairline as your attacker is caught off guard by your forfeiture. "what are you—"

once distant howls growing nearer cut him off. he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at something he cannot yet see. you watch from outside yourself as he turns back toward you. dark eyes meet your own and you see the decision make itself—in one instant you are free of his bodyweight, and in the next you are weightless as he hauls you over his shoulder.

he makes it no more than 10 feet down the path before the last bit of adrenaline leaves you and is replaced by a sudden, blinding pain with no identifiable source. you feel it everywhere—all of the seemingly inconsequential injuries catching up with you now that you've stopped moving. the receding tree line is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

.

..

the warmth that surrounds you is decadent. you curl into it, reluctant to break the spell of sleep. but then you remember.

you shoot upright, sending at least three layers of blankets rolling off of you. you pinch the fabric of the top one between your fingers—alpaca. not native, but farmed here over the last century or so. you know (and had been told) that it was unbecoming of a princess to hold so much commonplace knowledge. but then again, status matters little now, and this blanket is soft. you're grateful to know the beast it was made from.

it hurts, but you coax your head into swiveling around to survey your surroundings, surprised when you find that it's very clearly someone's home. it's old—some of the wooden boards that line the walls have started to bow against the nails that drove them into the framework of the house, and daylight peaks through the cracks. the bed you rest in can barely be called that—an old futon cushion atop bundles of straw. but it's warm, and you slept. someone has been taking care of you. the thought is sobering; the anxiety that comes with it is enough to hold you to the bed for the foreseeable future.

but your stomach growls, and the bodily betrayal forces you to move. you do it slowly, kicking both feet out from under the blankets. to see them bandaged is startlingly unexpected.

your memories until now are fuzzy at best, but the last thing you distinctly recall is the feeling of sharpened metal biting into your skin. there are few ways you can fathom connecting the dots from that moment to this—swaddled in blankets with your wounds tended to. it leaves you on edge.

on two feet, you sway a bit—the hunger feeds the vertigo that spins the surroundings in your peripheral. one hand braced on the bed now behind you, you blink until things settle. you take a step forward, and the pain is shocking—your feet are clearly more injured than they'd felt at the time, but there is only one way out of this room. you press on.

the heavy wooden door opens into a one room cottage. it's old, and not in the well-loved and well-lived way—the dilapidated structure and lack of any real homely qualities tells you immediately that it's current inhabitant is more of a recent opportunist than a longtime homemaker. that distinction mattered little now, though, and you suppose you should be grateful for your stranger's resourcefulness.

you creep further into the room without a sound until you find yourself in the middle of it. crouched and defensive, until the realization hits you—you see all four walls and are perplexed to find that you are completely alone.

the room is little more than a crooked wooden table and a futon pad on the floor. there are remnants of a fireplace in the center of the room—mortar and brick crumbling up wooden slats toward the roof, but still useful with still-burning embers inside. truly, it's more primitive than livable—there are weapons and tools strung up along the wooden panels of the walls, and animal hides hang in any space between metal and wood. but it's warm, and it's a reminder of what is at stake. what should spur anxiety brings only confusion—when cost of survival is so high, why add another body to the burden?

you forget yourself until the heavy fall of footsteps outside the door reignites your adrenaline. you watch, wide eyed and frozen, as the door picks a fight with whoever is on the other side of it. a weight smacks solidly into it once, twice, and a third time before it opens with a heavy groan. in the daylight, your captor is revealed to you.

hard eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, and then narrow in suspicion. you're still as he takes in all of you, and suddenly very aware of the nightgown you escaped your home in, still hanging off your body. you fight the urge to withdraw into yourself—you know it’s not the time to cower.

he eyes you for a moment more, and then drops a heavy pack on the floor next to him, and busies himself with unloading. you watch as he pulls out tools that look unfamiliar to you—though you suppose any tool would. it's not as if you or your family ever had a need for them.

you watch him work and are surprised to find that he's...handsome. jaw set at a hard angle with scars that wrap around the slope of one side, he's rugged in a way you'd never been taught to find appealing. he is unlike the men that sought after your hand with promises of riches and comfortable living. he is unlike anyone you've seen before, truthfully.

"um—"

"is there something you need?"

his coldness stuns you for a moment. you're not sure what you were expecting—you'd no real reason to anticipate any kindness from the man, but the care by which your feet were wrapped had led your mind in that foolish direction anyway.

you fight the urge to draw your limbs into yourself like a startled turtle. "oh—i just. wanted to thank you, i suppose. for helping me."

he looks up from his sorting to meet your eyes, and the disdain in them feels like a physical wound. he drops the tool in his hand with a sharp thud against the floor, and it makes you jump.

"once you've healed, you will leave."

you exhale sharply. it makes sense, of course—it is no small ask of him to allow you to stay even until you're healed. even so, the reality of the world that awaits you carries a weight to it—it lurks around the periphery of the tiny cabin, waiting for you to poke your head out.

then comes the loss—the blood that still stains your fingertips and the hem of your nightgown. you bow your head—out of shame or grief, you're not sure—and turn on your heel, right back into the room you came from. you shut the door behind you quietly, and you don't make it to the bed. you sink to your haunches and gravity pins you there, head in hands as your mind reintroduces you to each of the ghosts that now have a tight grip on both your ankles.

.

..

it's dark when you emerge, once again driven by hunger or thirst, or some other base need to stay alive despite every glaring sign not to.

you commit yourself to stealth—to staying out of your stranger's way, as much as you can before you take your leave. the dark of the cabin hides you in your trek out of your hiding place—unfortunately, it also hides the solid object on the floor, laid directly in front of your door. your foot catches it and it clangs, the metallic echo ringing in your ears.

you curse under your breath, bending down to feel around in the blackness for whatever you hit. you startle when your fingers hit something unexpectedly soft. you squint, and suck in a breath when you realize what you're holding—a piece of bread. rather, half of a loaf, with a cut of meat nearby, on the metal plate that you’d kicked. you blink, like if you do it enough, the mirage will dissipate and leave only dark wood behind. but it doesn't—the bread gives some as your fingers squeeze around it as if to test it's trustworthiness. you decide to stop looking the gift horse in its mouth, and recede back the dark of your room, food in hand.

.

..

oddly enough, it becomes a regular occurrence. you grow accustomed to expecting a plate of food by your door every night—a seemingly ironic luxury, given your reality now. you hardly see your stranger—you've no idea when he has the opportunity to leave food by your door unnoticed, give his penchant for absence. puzzling still is that the food you're given varies, as if he intends for you to have a fully balanced diet in the middle of a societal collapse.

he doesn’t stop at the food, either—after a few nights spent in your room, he makes his first real appearance in the daylight. a knock at your door rouses you from what’s become a habit of mid-afternoon naps, in lieu of staring at the splintered walls of what was quickly beginning to feel like a cage instead of a place of healing. you pull the door open to find your stranger towering over you—leering down at you with the same discontent he had before. only now, he holds something in his hands, and extends them to you.

“there’s a stream at the edge of the boundary.”

he thrusts what’s in his hands to yours, and you realize that it’s clothing—not in the best shape, but certainly better than the blood-crusted nightgown you still wear. he says no more, and for once you’re grateful for his curt demeanor. he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cabin, back to whatever the outside world has to offer him. after a moment, you follow his path, for the first time since you’d arrived.

it stuns you for a moment, how sinister the land looked in the dark, and how different it looks now. the sun shines hot down on the wheatgrass that sways gently in the breeze. it picks up a lock of your hair and you feel lighter with it.

you walk where you assume you should—down a thinly-worn path between the grass. you find it eventually: a small stream, just wide and deep enough for you to bathe in if you crouch. you turn your head to each side, squinting in your search for prying eyes—you find no one, but it’s still wholly uncomfortable to undress in the open like this.

your reservations leave you the minute you step into the water. warmed by the sun with a sweeping current, you let out a guttural moan that would’ve certainly earned you a chastising from your grandmother for its crudeness. you can’t help it—the caked on dirt and grime dissolves under your fingers and leaves you feeling better than you ever have. there is a slight sting in the soles of your feet—that it is slight is surprising to you, and a harrowing reminder of the clock that continues to tick out of your favor.

.

..

days bleed into weeks. your feet heal earlier than you expect them too, and the guilt you carry is worse than the wound. you know you’ve reached the end of your stay, but you can’t get yourself to leave. not when your stranger still insists on taking care of you. the anticipation is sickening—instead of sitting and waiting to be shooed away, you decide to earn your stay. hard work for someone who’d never worked a day, but the determination proves stronger than the fatigue.

you clean. it’s the only thing you can think to do, and truthfully, it’s necessary. you haul water in old containers on your shoulder from the stream, and you wash the dust away until the floors shine and the windows are clear again. you do this everyday—finding something to clean and fixating on it until the sun reaches the other side of the horizon. today is no different—you set your sights on the ash in the fireplace, using a metal pan to scoop it into a stray tarp to carry outside when you’re done.

you’re almost finished when you hear the now familiar sound of boots scraping the stone outside. you tense, but you don’t stop, pulling another pile of stale smelling soot onto the tarp as your stranger opens the door. you hear him stop behind you, but you don’t turn.

“what are you doing?” the tone is not as harsh as you’re used to—a little fatigued, mostly inquisitive.

“cleaning,” you say softly, pulling up at each corner of the canvas and watching the ash collide into neat little heaps in the center, “i’m almost done—i’ll be out of your way.”

you get to your feet, discard in hand, and turn to look at him. his strong brow furrows as he looks at you, like there’s something about what he sees that he can’t understand. against your best interest, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“i’m sorry, it’s just—i never learned your name.”

the look he levels you with makes you wish you’d never asked. his expression gives away nothing, but it tells you enough.

“how are your feet?”

your stomach drops—all of your attempts at earning your place for naught after all. but you stand in front of him now—to lie to him would be foolish at best.

you can barely raise your voice above a whisper. “healed.”

he studies you for a moment more, and it’s too much for you. your eyes fall to a crack in the floor, and distantly you wish you’d shrink down to slip inside of it, never to be seen again.

“tomorrow i will show you how to trap.” he gruffs, finality lacing his tone. your eyes snap to his but he’s already turning, half way out the door before he stops. he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“kento,” he mutters, barely audible and strange meeting your ears, “my name is kento.”

and then he’s gone again—leaving you standing there with a hand full of dirt and no way to discern your left from right as your world tilts on its axis, if only slightly—but noticeable and disruptive all the same.

.

..

you don’t sleep well that night—startled out of a twilight sleep in what appears to be the dark hours of the morning by the rapping of knuckles on your door. kento nods to you in a greeting of his own, turning swiftly on his heel and heading toward the front door. you follow him dutifully, pulling over your shoulders the blanket you’d snagged before you left the warmth of your bed for the chill of the morning. the grass is cool and dewey under your bare feet, and it’s a quiet luxury you find yourself reveling in as you pad along behind him. you can hardly see him in the dark and yet you keep up, somehow—you know there’s too much at stake to lag behind.

true to his word, he teaches you how to trap. solely by doing—few words are exchanged between you as he trudges into the stream and hauls out a weaved basket attached to a rope, fastened to the shoreline by a stray branch. the light that creeps over the horizon begins to illuminate his work—silvery tails gleam as they flick back and forth from inside the cage. you know better than to be sad, but you feel it anyway. it’s silly to feel a kinship with the creatures, not even sentient enough to know that there is no escape for them—but you know, and the weight of that is a tangible thing.

he teaches you how to prepare the fish, then—and you get through it, if not only through sheer determination to not throw up in front of kento. the sun rises and illuminates other opportunities to learn—he teaches you about the native plants, only in simple directions of pointing to a patch of green with an accompanied “don’t touch”, or “fine to eat”. it’d feel patronizing if it wasn’t all so overwhelming—he had a knowledge of things you’d never dreamed of before. all you can feel is excitement that he’s willing to share it with you.

as the sun begins to set, he brings you to the garden—a small patch of land, seemingly unassuming until you step inside. there are fruiting plants everywhere you look—fat, red tomatoes and vining, prickly cucumbers, complete with rows of leafy greens and cabbages. you can’t begin to imagine how he’d managed to grow all of this by himself. his nightly food gifts start to make more sense.

you work side by side, pulling ripe crop from each plant and placing them into a metal canister—usually used for mechanical purposes, but at the end of the world, you find many uses for what you have. you feel emboldened somehow with your hands in the dirt next to his, and the words leave you before you have a moment to reconsider; you tell him of where you’d come from, and of your descent down the hill. you think of the kin you’d left behind, and you feel detached as you tell him of the loss—an observation if nothing else, as if you’d sat on a shoreline and watched the tide flood in.

he doesn’t react—not to your noble status, and not to the death—he’s quiet as he moves on to each plant, only the pattering sound of what he harvests hitting the tin bottom of his canister. you don’t mind—there’s no reaction you’d expect or find helpful, and for some reason, his presence is enough. you find it odd that weeks ago his footsteps incited real fear in your veins, and now he’d spent the day teaching you new ways to be useful. it was a strange and intimate gratitude, but one you felt nonetheless.

you find you see him more now, with your newfound ability to contribute and the determination to do just that. days are spent hauling fresh catches out of the stream, and hunting down small mammals to supplement your diet. you watch him closely—the flex and twist of his torso with the pull of the bow, the way he narrows his focus to the fluffy little thing that scurries among the leaves. with the twitch of a finger, the arrow flies toward its target—there is a screech, and then a sobering quiet. for the first time in your life, you pray—quietly, for the creature with the same instinct to survive that drives you to take its life.

“here,” kento says, handing the bow to you, “try it.”

you wrap your fingers around the wood and do as he asks. it’s deceptively heavy—the tension of the bow makes it nearly impossible to draw back with your own strength. focused and determined not to fail in front of him, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands cover your own.

“there’s no trick to it,” his voice is gruff but gentle and far closer to you than he’s ever been, “just pull back, like this.”

he guides your hand backward with his own and the tail of the arrow follows—at your back, you feel the muscles in his chest ripple with the effort.

“focus,” he breathes, and you fight a shudder at his proximity, “listen.”

and it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of blood in your ears, but you try, blinking in an effort to snap out of whatever trance kento has put you in. it takes a moment, but then you hear it—the crinkle of leaves beneath tiny paws.

“take a deep breath.” kento allows you to move the bow where you want to, and you try to focus your aim. a bushy tail flicks up behind the underbrush—you train the point of the arrow right below it. your heart thuds wildly in your chest, and suddenly you’re worried that the bow might slide out of your sweating palms, impaling you instead.

“let it go.”

you do as he says, and the ringing in your ears drowns out the sounds of short-lived suffering. he lets go of you then—you don’t notice he’s come to stand in front of you until you feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe gently across your cheek. you blink, your own fingers reaching up to find tears you don’t recall ever shedding. your eyes meet his, and they burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. but he’s not angry—you feel no compulsion to apologize for whatever is happening to you. he takes the bow from your hands, and slings it over his back.

“we’ll go back now,” he says quietly. you follow him up the path, and the tears don’t stop until you reach the cabin. you wonder who exactly it is that you’re crying for.

.

..

you don’t know what it is about the nights that follow that lead kento to decide to stick around, but there’s a part of you that’s glad he does. above all else, you knew better than to question it. he doesn’t say much—he never does—but you’re more than happy to fill the silence. you suppose you owe him the opportunity to know you, after all he’s done for you—you’ve no idea how to quantify the gratitude you’ve felt over the last few months. you do what you can.

“there’s a story my grandmother used to tell,” you murmur, eyes to the fire that crackles in front of you, “i used to sit at her feet while she brushed my hair. she only ever told it to me—it was like a secret between us.”

the wood pops and spits an ember at your feet. you watch it blaze bright, the tiny thing—one last attempt to catch before it snuffs itself out. “there was a princess that lived high in a tower built to protect her from the bandits of the neighboring empire. she was only ever allowed to walk the grounds of the palace under the safety of a full moon. one night, as she crept out of the tower under the cover of the dark, she’s lured into the dark forest by a witch. she promises to grant the princess any wish, for a price.”

your eyes catch kento’s, and for once, his expression is not indifferent. he is here with you in this moment, and it warms you more than the flame. “of course she wishes to be free,” you continue, waving a hand at its inevitability, “and the witch turns her into a hare. and in the original story, that’s the end of it. there’s a lesson there, right?”

“but in my grandmother’s story, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to the princess. she’s free to hop around to her heart’s content. all she does is eat greenery and lay fat in her den until she dies a natural death after a long and happy life.”

you hear what you think is a scoff from the man next to you. your eyes roam kento’s face, and you think there might even be a hint of a smirk there. it thrills you.

“the tale of an optimist,” he offers quietly, and it’s not bitter.

“she was,” you murmur, “until the end, she was an optimist.”

it’s quiet between you for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire.

“i’m sorry you lost her.”

you smile, and it hurts. the tears well up before you can stop them.

“it’s unfair,” you croak, despite yourself. you’d done well to put up a good front in front of kento—humbling, to see how quickly it could be undone.

you startle when you feel a warm palm close around your clenched fist. “it is unfair,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

the warmth is profound, again despite the fire that heats your cheeks. you find yourself leaning into it until you’ve tucked yourself under his arm. he’s tense, but allows it.

“tell me something about you,” you whisper thickly, needing to think of anything else. he hums, tipping his head back. you sneak a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, glowing between shadows cast by a flickering flame. scar tissue curves and shimmers as it tenses.

“we were a group,” he murmurs, still looking up at the old, wooden boards, “myself and some of the neighbor children. there were no family units, there— we created our own.”

you’re so quiet you think you can nearly hear him piece together the memory in his mind. you know he’s gifting you something precious, so you don’t dare speak.

“we were too young to be running around alone, but there was nowhere to go. we knew enough to dodge the militias that would burn through each village. we thought we did, anyway.”

“the elders were kind. they brought in as many of us as they could on nights when the trucks would come down the road. but we didn’t have parents or homes, and they couldn’t take in all of us.” he pauses, sucking in a long breath. it shifts you when his chest expands. “i was small enough that i was able to fit through a hole in the crawl space under a home. Yu tried, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“he was my best friend.” kento’s voice is quiet, and more fatigued than you’ve ever heard it. it’s unnerving, seeing his humanity laid out so plainly. “he tried to run, but they caught up just as quickly. they would’ve just taken him to a work camp, but he put up a fight.” he says it with a small smile, like he’s proud. “they shot him and left him there to die.”

if there was a way you could be closer to kento, you’d have found it by now, but you find yourself trying to sneak up under his ribs anyway. trying to find a way to siphon his pain into yourself, if only for a moment.

“you were brave,” you whisper, having nothing else to say except for that—for what feels obvious and true. he scoffs, but you can hear the grief behind it.

“maybe,” he says, arm tightening around your shoulders, “i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way.”

you hum, a low and sympathetic thing, fighting the urge to nuzzle into his chest. it’s strange, how easy it is to default to such animal inclinations when there’s no need to abide by arbitrary customs. there is only the two of you here, and the urge to comfort kento is strong.

“will you let me do something?”

he glances down at you out of the corner of his eyes—narrowed in distrust, despite baring his most tender bits to you only a moment ago. you push past it.

“here,” you say, sitting up and out from under his hold, “sit here.”

“on the ground?” he’s not so much incredulous as he is confused—and you’ll take what you can get. you nod, an appeasing sort of grin teasing the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are still narrowed when he goes—crouched in defense like you wait with bared teeth instead of open arms. still, he moves to sit before you—facing you. you laugh a little, endeared.

“i meant for you to turn—“

“no.”

you’re snapped back to reality then—to the present moment, with this man that kindly took you in but does not trust you. you take in a slow breath, careful not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

“okay,” you murmur, reaching up to pull free from your hair the comb that tethers it in its knot, “that’s okay.”

your hair slips down over your nape as you pull the teeth of it free—hard and familiar in your fingers, you offer it to him like one would a scrap of food to a feral dog. an heirloom made of deer bone—your family’s own commitment to using all that you were given, even if it was in excess. a reminder of a luxury that never felt like one until now.

“is it okay?” you ask, pulling up on your own bravery to keep his stare. after a long moment of careful deliberation, he nods tersely.

you lean forward slightly, careful of his space, and let him see the comb as you reach up. he jumps when the dulled prongs meet his scalp, but you stay the course. you pull it through the blond strands—longer than they were when you first met, the dulled ends slipping through with each pass.

you sit back to look at him after a moment. there’s no resistance, nor is there any enthusiasm—but you trust that he’d stop you if he was uncomfortable, so you keep going.

you lose yourself in the task, pulling (or pushing, from where you sit in front of him) the carved bone through his hair. you allow him the privacy of a reaction—eyes focused only on the strands that flit away from the teeth of the comb.

so focused, it seems, that you have to suppress the jerk of your leg when he leans up against it. the quick glimpse you allow yourself gores you—his eyes now closed, head cushioned by the soft of your thigh. looking more childlike than you’ve ever seen him in the months you’ve spent every minute with him. you see flashes of him as a boy—small and without scarring or a reason for haunches to raise in fear or rage. you think of him laughing—rolling in mud and being scolded by an otherwise kind woman instead of squeezing his way through jagged, wooden boards to save his life. never knowing the sound of a shot ringing out in the street.

you tuck your face into your shoulder—determined to hide the tears and your grief on his behalf. determined to let him feel this, whatever it is, and be a safe place for him to do it. to be the strong arm and the kind hand for him now—the one he can give his precious trust to.

the fire crackles and the mourning is heavy in the air—but kento is alive beneath your fingers, and your own heart beat is a heavy and reassuring thud inside your chest.

.

..

he is a rose in bloom, in the nights that follow. tightly coiled and still with all of his thorns, but in bloom nonetheless.

he becomes something of your shadow. where he lingered out of distrust he now hovers with intent—comically so, his large body folding itself in the small confines of the makeshift kitchen while you wring out linens in the sink. it’s clear that something has shifted between you—though what, you’re unsure. your mind tells you he is finally coming around to you. your heart yearns for something more than just his trust, though you are not unaffected by the weight of that trust alone.

he is never more than an arm’s length away. he leaves in the darkened hours of the morning to hunt, and is somehow back before the sun rises to wake you. that was another shift—he hadn’t asked you to join him on a hunt since that night. he hadn’t asked you for anything after that, really. he sleeps nearer, too—you’d been under the impression that he’d been sleeping outside until he wound up at the foot of your bed, sleeping still like a guard dog. you didn’t have the heart to ask him about it—you just left the candle burning and turned away from the door. he was owed privacy in his vulnerability, and you give him that.

and however hard to read the man may be, you feel some discontent at not pulling your weight, so you try your best to anyway. patching up holes in the wooden exterior of your home. sealing the windows with fur and fat to beat the chill of the creeping fall. you know that the garden tending is cyclical with the seasons—the cold calls for heartier vegetables. you pull and preen until your fingers swell, aching.

and there he would be—watching you, as always.

“hard work for a princess,” he mutters through something suspiciously similar to a smirk. you level him with a glare—the heat of which is immediately snuffed out in comparison to the heat of the cloth that he wraps around your wind-bitten hands. the heat of his body before yours is a close second to the warmest you've ever been despite all of the holes you'd still yet to patch.

“i hardly remember ever being one now,” you murmur, leaning into his side as his thumbs swipe over your palms—needle pinpricks left in their wake, even through the fabric.

he scoffs, his hands engulfing yours in his warmth. "are you not still?"

"i suppose, technically." you shrug, letting him crowd you over to the old, torn up futon that you'd been using as living room furniture. he'd been doing a lot of that lately—pushing you to relax. itching to take a weight from you. he arranges you to his liking, wrapping one of the woven blankets around your shoulders. "i was meant to be made into more than that, you know. before the uprising."

kento only raises an eyebrow at you. you shrug, past the point of shrinking from his silence. "my family had paid a sizeable dowry to have me married off. an heir in a neighboring village, supposedly. only my grandmother was against it, in her own, quiet way. she took to calling me her rabbit, after her story. she wanted differently for me."

there's no mistaking the way kento stiffens. there's no reason for it, nor is there a justification for the way you want to placate him. you do it anyway.

"maybe it's for the best," you say, waving your hand as if to dismiss the whole thing entirely, "i'm not exactly the noble type, now."

you watch him deflate. he nods sagely, the smirk pulling at his lips again. "surely you're the most frightening princess i've ever met."

you turn your head to watch him settle in next to you—another new behavior, seemingly unbothered by the proximity that he no doubt was unfamiliar with. "what's that supposed to mean?"

his teasing grin fades into something a little more forlorn. "when i found you, i expected you to be afraid. i wouldn't have harmed you—i only wanted to scare you off."

you huff. "that wasn't very nice."

"you weren't afraid though. it was unnerving."

"oh?" you grin, reaching to poke him in the ribs. "you were afraid of me?"

he reaches for your hand and pulls it to his lap. "i was sad for you. it wasn't a resilience—it felt as though you were broken."

it hurts, you decide, to be known like this. how simple things had been when he'd only left you provisions at your bedroom door and left you be. now you'd gone and allowed your heart to run freely ahead without a tether. you'd no way of preparing for the injury that freedom would cause.

"you pitied me," you mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. the mood shifts between you, and something inside you wants to resent him for it. how warm it had been inside the delusion—the world in which you both exist in this space as equals, brought together by fate and want and nothing else.

"no, not pity." you startle at the feeling of his fingertips as they brush a tendril of hair from your face. "you reminded me of myself. i didn't want you to be alone."

"why take on that burden?"

kento hums, pushing his fingers through the hair at your temple. despite yourself, you lean into the touch. "maybe i didn't want to be alone, either."

you blink, the sentiment working its way into your head. it lands significantly south—deep in your chest with an ache you can't describe. you reach for the wrist in your peripheral, stopping his movement and keeping him close. "is that all?"

"no." his admittance is a whispered, strained thing. you're close enough that to tilt your head back brings his jaw to your lips. the ghost of your breath along his skin makes him shudder, and you feel the fingers in your hair flex into a grip.

"what else, then?"

he ducks his chin to nose at your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, mind empty of all that swam around in it only a moment ago.

"my rabbit," his bottom lip brushes against your own, "what else is there but you?"

.

..

the weather changes and the gods grow restless.

you both feel it at the first chill of the year. there’s no graceful turn of the seasons—the air is bitter and cold, and you know something is coming. there’s little time for play, so on the last few warm evenings of fall, you take advantage of it. or you try to—you drag kento into the stream to soak in the dwindling rays of sun, but the knowledge of what is to come weighs heavily on you both. he holds you up in the current—body to body, only breathing. you can't get close enough—to reach inside him and carve out a space for yourself would still not sate the longing you feel.

that wretched something shows it’s face soon enough. the first snow is harsh, collecting in heavy banks against the roof of the house. the wood sags under the weight and the cold creeps in through the wood until the fire is no longer enough to warm the house in it's entirety—only the small space in front of the mantel that you crowd around. you and kento don’t talk much these days—to speak takes energy you don’t have to spare. he is doting as he always is—making sure you are covered in every layer of fabric and fur he can find, but something is wrong. you know the worst is yet to come. you feel it in the way kento holds you too close during the night; it’s never warm enough.

at first there is hope. kento has his food reserves and you'd preserved some of what you’d gathered. but a week of snow turns to two, and two weeks turn to two months. the rations get smaller and the two of you get hungrier. by the third month, you understand that you will not be spared the gods’ wrath. you see the punishment for what it is—a utilitarian consequence to all of the bloodshed by man. you do not have the energy to mull over the unfairness of that. even if you did, the gods do not concern themselves with what is fair—you know that now. the light inside you fades with every new inch of snowfall.

but kento is kind, despite your insistence that he be otherwise. he pulls from his own warmth to add to yours. your dinner portions are always bigger, even if it means he goes without eating entirely. it’s in vain, of course. neither of you will live through this. you scold him for pushing the last of his food on your plate and he doesn’t bother to respond. he only watches while you eat, like he can’t rest until he knows for sure that you have eaten all he has to offer you. you chew through tears and the only comfort is the hand that reaches to wipe them from your cheek. it’s a painful end, wasting away like this. watching kento fade away.

it's when you can smell death's approach that you know with certainty that your humanity has fled for a better place. the thing that remains in you—that keeps your heart beating, that coaxes your lungs to inflate—is purely animal. and it's out of that same primal need that you close the distance between kento's frail body and your own. in the silent chill of the night, the warmth between you may be merely a hallucination now, but you feel it all the same. there is no pain anymore. only a pull into a sleep you want so badly to slip into.

you don't cry—you use the last of the strength in your body to tuck yourself under kento's chin and curl around him in some intimate display of what exists between you. of what has existed this whole time.

"if this is the end," you murmur, knowing that it is, "i'm happy that i'll leave this world with you."

the knuckles that brush against your cheek are sharp and gnarled now. you've never known a touch so tender. it’s odd to speak—to shatter the intimacy of the silence that’s floated around the both of you for much of the last few weeks.

"do you know now?"

if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the man in your arms will live to see the morning. that this is merely pillow talk, and the sun will wake you with warmed skin in a few hours.

but you don't let yourself turn away. it's striking, how even with his last few breaths, kento manages to use them worrying about you. you wonder if he's done it the whole time. you do know; you realize with unmistakable clarity that you'd know his love anywhere, now. you nod, feeling his thready pulse against your forehead.

"i do. you'll have to forgive me for not seeing it sooner."

you feel him scoff—an inappropriate use of dwindling breath that makes you laugh, too. "there will be plenty of time to show you in the next life, my rabbit."

a brief bitterness curls up your spine—the unfairness of all of this creeping back up like a rising tide. how cruel it was to have settled on the loneliness of a life without love, just to be shown the magnitude of a life with it in the final months of your own.

but it recedes in the next moment, because there is no more time to grieve. you can only feel grateful, now—to leave this world saturated in all that kento has given you.

cracked lips brush the skin of your temple—he has no real energy for a proper kiss, but the desire to comfort is strong between you. you spend the next few, precious moments counting the breaths that rattle inside his chest, grateful for every one cycled through.

in the silent hours of a darker morning, there is a light only the two of you can see. shrouded in the glow, he is so beautiful.

with all of your strength, you call him by his name, one last time. "until next time, my love."

epilogue

if the notion of certainty is alive in anything, it is in the way that fable and folklore are sure to be born and born again out of gatherings of beings with mouths to speak it. one such example is the jagged, snow capped hills of Akaito—a new village comprised of all walks of life, the one commonality between them being their displacement during the fall of the Zaiaku dynasty almost one hundred years prior. built overtop the remnants of survivor settlements crushed under the Great Snow, all who inhabit the land know well of the blood that has stained the soil and pay mind to honor the loss of life in their own ways—namely in storytelling. this great coming together eventually gave way to a new mother tongue for the telling of a new bed time story to bleary eyed babes in the middle of the night: the tale of the Akaito lovers—the wolf and the hare.

as the story goes, villagers who have been bestowed some unearthly dose of luck by the gods may catch a glimpse of an unlikely pair—a formidable looking white wolf with scarring across its broad body, and its counterpart: a fluffy and downright regal grey hare. one might catch them romping around in the dusting after a fresh snow, or preening one another under a shaded tree in the heat of the summer. depending on who tells the tale, it might be the case that if a person is truly fortunate and determined to wait out the dark of night, they might even be gifted the sight of the duo curled around one another, sleeping peacefully in a protective and loving embrace under the light of a waning moon.

as with all fables, the story is altered with every new tongue that speaks it, and one day the tale will vanish from the minds of the younger generations completely. but for now, it is ripe in the minds of the young and old, the latter of which are very certain that it is no mere fable at all.

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝕱𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊 🔞

If the heavens don't want you, he'll gladly take you for himself instead.

Tags/Warnings: Demon!Yoongi, implied Devil!Yoongi, mentions of death and domestic violence (briefly), fluff?

Length: mid/long

This is a One-shot.

A/N: Dont you dare ask for a taglist.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

People blame him a lot.

For death. For sickness. For sadness and unfairness. Everything negative is always blamed on him and his kind. They claim he enjoys to see the world burn and suffer, and that's just not true.

It's not that simple. It's not all black and white.

Someone calls his name. He lifts his head, opens his eyes to look at the demon in front of him. "There's a soul here." He says, and Yoongi doesn't move a single muscle. "It's.. we believe it's gotten lost? We're not sure what to do with her- we can't touch her, but the angels refuse to take her in." He says, and at that, Yoongi's interest is peaked.

Fallen souls always carry the most interesting stories.

"What do you mean, you can't touch her?" He asks, and the demon looks up.

"She's too.. bright. It burns." He explains. "But the angels we've called up to get her say they won't take her." He says.

A faint smile reaches Yoongi's lips.

"I'll deal with it myself then." He offers, slowly standing up, black robes dragging on the floor behind him. "Take me to her."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're hugging your legs for comfort as you sit in the middle of nowhere.

It's neither cold nor warm- there's no real sensation of the ground you're sitting on, and neither does it smell of anything. There's a faint rumbling consistently all around, but other than that, it feels as if you've been thrown into a void. You don't remember anything either- neither who you are, what you did, or why you're here to begin with. All you know is that you're scared, lonely, and absolutely lost.

The sound of boots walking through shallow waters is suddenly heard, and you turn around immediately, to see a man standing in the void with you, dressed in all black. He's watching you for a good moment or two, doing nothing else- face stoic, eyes unreadable before he walks closer, kneels down on one knee to further inspect you it seems like. His hands are hidden underneath thin leather as he lifts your chin, searching for something.

His eyes are a mix of faint emotions you can't really tell apart from one another.

"What's your name?" He asks, and his voice makes you shiver for no apparent reason. You softly shake your head. "Where do you come from?" He wonders, tilting his head a little in curiosity, but you shake your head again, eyes tearing up.

You don't know. You just don't know!

"Hm." He hums to himself, letting go of your face as he stands up to full height again. You look up at him like a lost fawn desperate for guidance, and he can't help but let it affect him just a little. It's a shame they don't want you. You'd make a decent angel, in his opinion-

perfectly grey, neither good nor bad.

But that's not what they want- they want those who will follow with their eyes blinded and hidden behind veils. They want those compliant and without any personal judgement towards anything. They want puppets, and you wouldn't be one.

Good.

"Come here." He says, holding out his hand- and you get up at that, taking it without any question, and he can't help but look at your hand in his for a moment, before he turns around to walk you out of your corner of his kingdom, back to where he can keep you close.

If the heavens don't want you, he'll take you for himself instead.

It can get pretty boring down here, after all.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

There's a demonic beast in front of you, a wolf-like creature snarling with giant fangs and red eyes glaring, and you can't help but scream in fear, turning around to hide against the stranger's body, his coat hiding you a bit. "Stop it, Jungkook." He simply says, a hint of amusement in his voice, however. "Leave her be."

"Aw, but she's cute when she's scared!" The.. thing named Jungkook says, and the moment you open your eyes to look at him again, he's now in a more human form just like the man you're holding onto, his eyes a deep cherry red however. "Will she stay here?" Jungkook asks curiously so, and the man nods.

"She will." He answers. "Though I will keep her for myself." He explains, and Jungkook appears visibly disappointed.

"But Yoongi, why?" He wonders, looking like a child having gotten their toy taken away. "Jimin refuses to play with me, it's horribly boring out here." He whines.

"I don't care about your lack of entertainment." The man you now know is named Yoongi answers. "And neither do I care where you go now- I only want you to leave." He demands.

"Oooh, I see." Jungkook smirks, still testing his luck as he steps a bit closer, leans down towards your face- though Yoongis robe blocks his way after a second. "Happy feasting then, your highness." He jokes, before he vanishes into nothingness- leaving you alone with Yoongi.

Feasting?

"You're going to eat me?" You worry up at him, and he can't help but chuckle at that, his red eyes looking down at you.

"He was talking about a different kind of feasting." He tells you, and your eyes widen at that, stunning you for a moment as he walks away from you. And oddly, you feel terribly exposed like this, not under his coat any longer- so you run after him like an imprinted duckling, desperate for protection. "Though I'm not interested in that, currently." He simply speaks, and you listen, holding onto the fabric of his robe to keep up with his step. He notices this- sighs, before he tugs your fingers away from his clothes, to hold onto your hand instead.

"Where are we?" You wonder, looking at the dark structures of the.. castle-like building you're walking through.

"Hell." He bluntly tells you. "The abyss. Nether world. Pandemonium. There's really a lot of names for where we are." He explains calmly. "All you need to know is that this, for now, will be your home." Yoongi tells you, and you look around for a moment or two, almost tripping over your own feet occasionally when he tugs you along too fast.

"Did I do something wrong to be here?" You wonder after a while, a large door opening, revealing what you assume might be a throne room.

"No." He shakes his head, walking towards the throne in the back of the hall. "Not necessarily. You simply do not belong anywhere." He explains, sitting down, before crossing his legs and placing his elbow on one of the armrests, face resting on his hand as he watches you.

"So I'm.. lost." You say, deflating visibly.

"No." He shakes his head a little. "You belong here now." The man tells you, a slight smirk on his lips.

"You belong to me."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Once you grow used to everything around you, the world you now live in isn't all that scary any longer.

Jungkook isn't actually dangerous at all, really- he seems more like a young man who's never got to live out his childhood, and it makes sense, considering that he told you he died at merely fifteen years of age. The reason why he is now here had been the fact that he had taken the life of his own father- a decision made in a fit of rage at the sight of the man inflicting violence on his mother.

You also learn that his second form- the wolf-like beast he occasionally turns into- is his own nightmare he's been through as a child over and over again. He's befriended this demon at some point here in hell, has understood the ways things work down here, has given it a new home inside his own soul.

"It's kind of like you and Yoongi." He'd explained. "Just- you're still you. Ralis and I, we're now one and the same, so to say." He had shrugged.

You're not too sure what Yoongi wants from you, though. He's given you a place to stay, a new 'home' as he calls it, but other than that, he doesn't really.. do much. He will let you sleep on his lap sometimes in the throne room, will tell you stories of the different souls he's encountered, has told you of a young woman he once loved before he came here as well. He's explained to you, while never saying what exactly, that he's done something in his past life that had forced him into the position he's now in.

You wonder what it was.

"Let's get you back to Yoongi." Jungkook snickers, watching you almost fall asleep next to him.

"I can just take a nap right here-" You deny, though Jungkooks hand on your shoulder hindering you from laying down seems to hold some more weight than just preventing you from sleep, as he looks at you with meaning behind his gaze.

"You should sleep close to him, little stray." He tells you awfully gently- but also in a serious tone. "Never fall asleep without him close."

You don't know why- but you don't question him further, simply nod and accept, his hand helping you stand up as you walk back through time it feels like, suddenly in front of the throne room you know by now. But you don't walk through the doors- mainly because of Yoongis booming voice, anger showing with a growl in his words.

You've never heard him speak like this.

"You can't just send her here for me to find and then take her again just for your own sick and twisted amusement!" He angrily barks, voice raspy with emotions. "You just want to take her because you want to insult me!" Jungkook's hand on yours tightens a bit. "She will stay here, right at my side, where she's supposed to be." He finalizes it seems like, the doors suddenly opening- two men exiting, their clothes white and clean as they look at you for a moment- though you're quickly shielded by Jungkook.

"Are you scared of this place, little thing?" One asks and you nod- Jungkook's hold stuttering on your hand while you look over at Yoongi, who's eyes seem open wide and shocked.

"I.. am scared." You agree, letting go of Jungkook's hand, before you hesitantly walk past the two men, dashing into a run, crashing into Yoongi's body to hide underneath his coat again. "But only of you." You mumble, and the two men in white sigh, before they leave the building.

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi wonders, and you look up at him, his entire face having changed from anger and shock to nothing but unreadable. "I thought you were out with Jungkook." He wonders.

"I got tired." You say, before looking over your shoulder at Jungkook who smiles and bows politely, before leaving. "But he said I should only sleep around you." You say, and Yoongi nods.

"That's right." He agrees. "Come- let's have you rest then." He offers, having you settle on his lap again, his arms securing you.

"Why can't I sleep alone?" You ask, and Yoongi stays silent for a moment.

"Lets hope you'll never find out." He simply mumbles, watching how you slowly fall asleep.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You don't know how long it's been, but by now, it does feel like home.

Yoongi doesn't sleep- he never rests, says he doesn't need to. It confuses you a little why you have to rest, but he doesnt- jungkook sleeps too, after all. He will sleep in the form of that beast at Yoongis feet, though he doesn't seem to need sleep as much as you do.

"Yoongi?" You wonder, and he looks down at you, having noticed you waking up. "What.. am I to you?" You ask, having had this question on your tongue for a while now.

He keeps you close, he's very gentle with you, though a bit rough when handling you as well. He's protective, a bit withdrawn, but overall treats you very well. The only thing you're not sure of is what he wants from you.

He'd recently gotten a little upset when he'd heard that you told Jungkook you could be his first kiss after the demon had told you he'd never had been kissed before during his lifetime and now. Yoongi refused to talk to you for a day, but never told you why it made him upset.

"What do you want to be?" He answers instead, making you confused. What do you want to be?

"I know that I'm more to you than your demons." You say, and he nods. "But I also know that I'm not you lover nor your one to be. I'm confused about what you want from me." You say, and he smirks slightly, eyes sharp.

"Are you offering yourself to me, love?" He wonders darkly, and you can't help but become shy.

He's handsome, after all. Not only visually. You've never felt quite loved by anyone before- or maybe you have, and just can't remember. But yoongi?

He makes you feel loved.

"There is no going back, darling." He hums towards you, heavy doors of the throne room closing on their own, curtains of the windows shutting as candles all around you light up. "Once you overstep this fine line, there won't be any other option for you than to stay here, at my side, forever." He threatens.

"Good." You whisper almost, looking at him. "I don't want to be anywhere else." You say, and at this, he strips off the leather gloves he usually wears.

Hand gently holding your cheek, as he places a kiss to your lips that feels like much more that just chaste affection.

It's a promise.

An agreement.

A forever binding contract.

[robinette-green]

Robin's Mer DCA Romance Fics

These are fics I’ve started that involve Mermaids and aquatic life!

Unbreakable Chains:

You’re a mermaid captured by pirates. Scared and injured, two strange metal men care for you while you’re trapped in this scary place and slowly an unbreakable bond is formed between the three of you. ________________ Wind and rain pelted down on the ship as the men scrambled to lift their catch from the water. The waves rolled, tossing the ship back and forth, slamming water down onto the decks as ropes were pulled and the net was lifted from the water. A screech rang out over the waves as something much larger than your average fish was raised from the black depths. Lighting forked across the sky, illuminating sharp teeth and claws as the beast fought to free itself. The shout of pain, as claws met flesh, was drowned out by the rumble of thunder, but the sharp crack from the pistol rang clear across the water, followed by a scream. Another shot and cry of pain, and the men were finally able to lower the beast into the belly of the ship. 

Caught in a Fish's Net: (tag)

what if I wrote a story where a human is kidnapped by mermaids. And they were forced to marry two mer princes because of a prophecy that said if the princes married a human they would be able to end the plague killing their people. But the marriage seems to do nothing and now the human is trapped deep in the ocean with these mer because mer bond for life and now magic ties them together so if they’re apart for too long they’ll grow sick and die. OH! And there’s a sea witch who creates chaos. The sky had been cloudless when we'd set out this morning. The sun shone in the sky, causing sparkles to ripple across the waves as my father and I set out to sea in our small fishing boat. We cast out the nets and had a good laugh as we waited to pull them back in, Father at the rudder and me by the tethers we'd connected the nets to. Neither of us noticed how still the water had gotten. Neither of us saw the shadows below the surface. 

Bubbly:

A little waterlily mer guppy is trapped, home destroyed, and taken to a pet store to be sold. After spending some time living in a fish bowl, our little guppy is saved and moved to a tank that has been dubbed the daycare by the human tending to it. The daycare tank is set up to rehabilitate fish before they are released back into their natural habitats. There our guppy meets Sun and Moon, two fish that live full time in this tank taking care their healing guests. Sun and Moon and our guppy fall in love and then shit goes down.

Fish Fry: (tag)

Pulled from the sea 5 years ago, I was tied up, beaten, and sold to owner after owner, each deciding I was too dangerous to keep. Back then, I was strong, able to break bones and tear flesh with ease, singing to lure humans to their demise. It's what my kind was made to do, kill humans. But no more. Kept in increasingly small tanks, barely fed, and unable to swim, I started to weaken. Eventually, I was dumped here. It was some kind of oddities collection. My owner had other humans pay to look at his strange assortment of items he had gathered from around the world. Then one day I encountered two strange humanoid creatures that resembled the Sun and the Moon and my life started to change for the better.

Monster in the Sea:

Sun and Moon are human and go by Solaris and Lucien. The MC is a water dragon. Water dragon reader finds Sun and Moon lost at sea during a storm

Dark Waters:

When your parents died all their debt fell on your shoulders. You did everything you could but in the end, you were penniless and without a home. Reaching out to what relatives you had left, your uncle offered you a place, living and working at his little circus in the middle of the desert. It wasn't long after you moved into this little community that you found a strange abandoned tent hidden at the back of the grounds, a large tank inside. Posted just outside was a sign that read 'DANGER! KEEP OUT!' If you had headed the warning maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament but you also wouldn't have met the two most amazing creatures you have ever laid your eyes on.

Fishy Business: (tag)

Attacked and almost killed, I manage to escape my attackers and hide in a cave only to be found by something... not quite human. Too weak to get away and with the beasts that wanted to eat me waiting outside, this non-human kidnaps me, taking me to his ship. This is where I find that there are not one but two of these metal creatures. A story where the main character is a mermaid and is rescued/kidnapped by Sun and Moon

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3

[neteyamsoare]

Their Strong Warrior.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Tonowari x Ronal x Fem! Tall! Metkayina! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Request From [🫧 anon]. Hi! It’s 🫧 again :D If your requests are still open, could I maybe ask for a Tonowari/Ronal x reader again? (In case you couldn’t tell, they’re my favorites). I read something somewhere about like, tall Na’vi reader, and I can’t get it out of my head. I can imagine Ronal and Tonowari with this huge beefy Metkayina reader, like tattooed to glory and absolutely terrifying, but is actually the softest person ever. Like yeah, the reader can and has taken on the most terrifying beasts you can think of, but they’re reduced to a little purring puddle if Ronal or Tonowari offers to braid their hair or cuddle with them in their Mauri. I tried to put more detail in this time too :P hope this is okay.

༉‧₊˚. Summary. On the outside, you put a tough wall but behind closed doors, Tonowari and Ronal know the real you.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Fluff.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Brief mention of readers' deceased parents and you have a specific height

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 673.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Marui — [homes of Na'vi clans like the Metkayina or the Ta'unui], Akula — [a Pandoran ocean animal that roams the reefs of the Eastern Sea].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. This is my first poly fic so go easy with me, it'll become better as I improve my writing. I love you for this request. I swear I was in the car and was thinking of your request and before I knew it, I was writing some notes for part two. Sorry, this took so long. Also sorry this was a bit short but part two is going to be longer!

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

You were well known amongst the Metkayina clan for being the strongest, bravest, and most fearless warrior they had ever seen. You worked so hard to get the title and never planned on losing it.

People felt intimidated by you and let’s be honest they had every right to, you were 8’9 and since you were a hunter, you had your tattoos done on your arms which represented the more exposed protective shield of the seawall.

Any dangerous mission there was, you were on it. You took on the most dangerous animals known to man with no fear and especially no doubt you would lose, You always radiated with confidence.

Like today, you returned home from a hunting trip after defeating an akula feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y/n… you were…,” Marek nervously tried to put words together but you just stared at him with a blank face watching him fidget with his fingers and avoid eye contact with you, you went to say something warm-hearted but he simply ran away. 

It’s not like you intended to put fear in others to the fact that they were too afraid to talk to you, it was just that after your parents died, you put up walls so people couldn’t see how much you were hurting inside, why let people see the soft side of you when you could be the toughest they have ever seen.

The tough facade didn't work on two people though. 

While the people thought you were this tough scary person that was tough to talk to, Tonowari and Ronal saw a different side to you.

You three would be in your shared marui and Tonowari would offer to braid your hair as Ronal would cuddle into you laying her head on your chest as you let out a soft purr, they would say hearing your purr is the music to their ears.

You could deny it all you want but when it comes down to the two, they were the only ones to break down your walls seeing the true you, the soft you.

You hear a familiar chuckle from behind, “I swear you make it so easy,” Tonowari says as he walks up to you.

“Make what so easy?” he lets out another chuckle as he snakes an arm around your waist pulling you closer to him as you look up at him, you were tall but not taller than him.

“I don’t have to scare off potential suitors because you do it for me, can’t have anyone trying to steal you away from us,” you roll your eyes as you fight back a smile threatening to form. 

You open your mouth to say something but Ronal interrupts you as she picks up your hand searching for any small or serious injuries that she would have to tend to. You’d argue that she didn’t need to but the amount of time you got hurt during these hunting trips, you learn to deal with it.

She searches your whole body and when she sees that you’re fine, she goes to search Tonowari in which he voluntarily does a 360 spin to put her at ease.

“Nice, no injuries this time, you two are improving,” she says as a slight smile shows on her face and three of you walk to your shared home as Tonowari and you tell her how the trip went, both complementing each other’s skill. 

These happy moments were the only way people would see the smile on your face, seeing how the three of you complement each other perfectly, and how you work so well together.

Of course, they saw the arguments that would come up at times but the three of you had it under control, and by the next day, things went back to normal.

But there was a time in the future when an argument was so bad that it caused a rift in your relationship that had people worried if things were going to be okay between the three of you.

🔖 @livelaughloak, @jakesully-sbabygirl, @kenzi-woycehoski, @fanboyluvr, @onlytays, @amart-e, @vxncxntt, @blep24, @blackheart-stuff, @almondmilk8, @love-chx, @uniltsatirey, @23victoria, @saeayanaa, @aash3, @canaomfa, @neteyamsbaby, @0littlelucy0, @itszmedawn, @strawberryclouds22, @doulcha, @lixiesbrowniess, @liluvtojineteyam, @tinkerbelle05, @olivikiya.

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.