#it was something in those white bandages of his i’m sure of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lustlovehart · 3 months

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Cease The Blaze

A/n: Takes place a little after “Scarlet In Black”.

Summary: [Yandere] Blade isn’t so sure anymore whether or not you are safe anymore, not even from yourself. It brings a question to his mind, should he try to save you? Or should he watch as you crumble by your own hand? He already knows the answer, and it’s definitely not the latter.

Warnings: Reader is wounded, Possessiveness on Blades part, Burning, Implied Imprisonment, Kinda angsty, Blade desperately wants to protect reader but doesn’t know how anymore

Blades eyes stare the deepest holes into your soul, his fingers wrapping the once pristine white bandages around your chest, his fingers grazing against bare skin, leaving a tingly feeling through your nerves.

"You really didn't have to do this Blade, I could've-" His fingers tighten significantly, though you don’t think he was trying to hurt you. “Gh..! I could’ve wrapped myself up…”

“No, you don’t need too. I’m doing it.” You don’t reply to him, only looking down at his hands as they worked, you didn’t dare to look into his eyes, they’d just serve as a further means to shrink down in embarrassment. When he finally finishes bandaging your wounds back up, he sits right next to you on the rock he made you rest on.

It was night where you were rested, the fire that laid in front of you burning a brilliant flame, it’s too bad you should never touch it.

“So, I thought you were in another solar system… Do you have some sort of third sense for me specifically?” Your eyes finally make contact with his own, smiling a little in hopes of lightening the tense mood with a joke.

Majority of the time he just looks at you, but there are a few instances where you can notice a tiny little quirk in his lips. You guess that isn’t one of those times though, with the way he replies in his usual straight face.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“So you’re admitting to just magically knowing when i’m in danger?”

He lets out a firm ‘mm’ sound to the question. You assume he’s only agreeing to stop you from asking anymore, but even then it makes you laugh a tiny bit.

“Don’t know whether or should be creeped out or thankful? Kinda comforting knowing i’ll have you come rescue me whenever I need it.” For a moment you notice Blades eyebrows furrow, the moment once more going back to a stifling aura.

In his own mind, he finally thought about it, he had been too preoccupied with the feeling left in his chest to notice it himself, what happens when he can’t come to your aide? What if someone else caused harm to you and he couldn’t stop it. No, perhaps even worse, what if you cause your own demise?

After he had finally found something in his eternal damnation he enjoyed, is he really willing to let it go that easily?

“Not always. Don’t be so naive with your thinking. I’m not an aeon who will be the back of a chair you can easily lean on. What happens to you when you lay back and there is nothing to keep you from falling?”

“Wha…? What are you talking about…?”

“You fall [Name]. You fall and get hurt.”

You’re not too sure on how to reply to him, so you go back to gazing at the sparks of the blaze. A few minutes pass by, no maybe not even a few, half an hour had went on, neither of you speaking a word.

The inferno dimmed slightly, yet the fire felt even hotter than it did before. Your palms reach out without even thinking, finally feeling the burn before Blade bandaged had firmly grabbed onto your wrist.

“Do not touch that.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

The two of you don’t say anything else, your eyes only making contact with the inferno again. It was no longer as pretty as it once was, in fact, all it did was burn your eyes. Not Blades though, he wasn’t looking at the fire, he was only looking at you. Hesitantly, his hand grabs onto your shoulder pulling you in. His movements were stiff, yet you let him.

“I don’t want you to suffer.”

“What? Like-” you only stop yourself before talking more. ‘Like you?’ It was messed up, but you were starting to get sick of the vagueness in his words.

“Last time I saw you, you were covered in blood, not even a speck of your regular clothes could be seen. You shouldn’t worry about me being the one who’s ‘suffering’.”

“It’s blurred together, everything. The only thing that isn’t fogged by scarlet in my memories is my past.”

“Why don’t you revisit that past then?”

“That it is no longer there for me to revisit.”

Hot. The fire is burning you again. You blink a couple of times looking back at the man, no, the weapon perhaps?

“I have something else in front of me that isn’t tattered in bloodshed, I’m not willing to loose that.” He pulls out a red ribbon from his side, taking care in wrapping it around your wrist, the color reminds you off his eyes, and it smelled faintly of strawberries. When he finishes it up, he had shaped it into a tiny bow on your wrist, it’s kinda cute.

“What did you mean by ‘not willing to loose that?’ By the way? Is it another one of your cryptic sayings?”

“No. I mean it truly this time.”

For once in the moment, he doesn’t look at you, while all you did was look at him, confusion littered around you face.

After than neither of you spoke a word, until you dozed off, the last thing in your vision being the way the fire had went out, as if it had never been there, the only remains of it being the ashes it left in its wake. Blades calloused hands were still on your body, like before, he feared if he let go for even a moment you would be gone too.

Carefully he lifts you up, carrying you through the plain of nature that had surrounded you. In moments like this, he would always return you to the comfort of your bed, never leaving a trace of him behind for you to find.

“So Bladie, are you finally gonna bring them along with us? It has been a thought of yours for awhile has it not?” Her voice was undoubtedly the most recognizable thing about her, that and her blank eyes that always seemed to hold no fear. “The night I was waiting for you two, I expected you to bring them along right then. Why now hmmm?”

“They’re not safe. That won’t work.”

“I thought it would be their choice whether or not that was okay.”

“No. I want them to stay. If it means keeping them away from themself even, i’ll do it.”

His footsteps clank against the steel floor of the Stellaron Hunters ship, Kafka following close behind.

“Is that enough for you Bladie?” Her tone is of the usual, a bit condescending and playful, yet it makes him pause, if even for just a brief moment.

“If it means even a minutes escape from my suffrage.” She smiles at him, closing her eyes as they continue strolling through.

She knows what he said isn’t true. It won’t take long before his greed for you takes over, craving for more of your warmth as he starves for whatever you can give him. Maybe if he had taken you sooner it wouldn’t hurt so bad to watch you reach for home in front of him.

When you wake all you’ll remember is the way the fire had felt, the final feeling of the outside you can ever feel for yourself. In your last moments, you wished you had touched that flame, even if it meant being burnt.

———

Gonna be completely honest, I actually don’t enjoy the way this came out, but i wanted to highlight the softer side Blade has for Reader? While also showing how much he wants to keep them in his life. It definitely could’ve been better, but if it’s that bad, i’ll just rewrite it another time.

#hsr x reader #blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere blade #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere blade x reader #vesperwrites #yandere yingxing #yingxing x reader

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girasollake · 1 year

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˚♡ ⋆two of cupsੈ♡˳

pairing: neteyam x fem!mangkwan!reader

!disclaimer! there is pretty much nothing we know about this clan but since i saw they are like ‚spiritual masters’ or something i thought i would use their name because it fits the story!

requested: no

type: angst/fluff

summary: (i am so bad at writing these) the reader is part of the clan you mostly hear about in legends, they are spiritually connected to eywa, more than any other tribe. she has to run away after the sky people destroyed her village and she meets a boy. his energy calls to her and she doesnt know why. both of them are children of clan leaders and both of them need to find a mate due to their age (both are around 18-20), they feel the pull towards each other and dont know that their fate was already written in the stars (its me, im the stars)

warnings: death of a loved one, injuries, mentions of blood and wounds, breakdown, grief, a happy ending

a/n: i hope you guys will like this one because i came up with the whole clan for the sake of the story lmao, but even if you wont like it i still hope you enjoy reading it!// gif is from pinterest, all credits to the owner!

word count: 5,818

[there may be some errors, because i’m too lazy to check it lol]

╰┈➤ a little glossary:

*Faysawtute! Wiya! - These sky people! Dammit!

** Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan, Tsahik - I see you, Olo’eyktan, Tsahik

***evi - kid(in an affecionate way kinda)

You weren’t sure how you ended up in that place. The last thing you remember is running away from the sky people who had somehow found your village, the screams of your people started echoing in your brain. You sat up and analyzed your surroundings carefully - the forest around you was vast and mysterious, you have never went into this part of Pandora before. You needed to find your friends, your parents, your ikran, but the only things you could see were trees and bioluminescent plants. A hiss escaped your lips when you stood up, blood was running down your leg and you noticed a big wound it was coming out of, a stab wound. All of this wasn’t unfamiliar, you have fought against the sky people before, but this time they were hungrier for blood than ever, targeting your tribe and searching for you. Your clan had knowledge others didn’t, your people had a special connection to Eywa which presented itself in the fact that your hair was white. You were hiding in the shadows, often migrating and avoiding direct contacts with others, to other tribes yours was just a legend. You almost never engaged, only when it was necessary, and even though you should have gotten rid of the strange enemies from the other planet – your father decided to keep moving and put the fighting behind you. You didn’t blame him, there has been enough bloodshed and there were only 87 of you left, well, now probably less than that.

‘Faysawtute! Wiya!*’ You cursed and pressed on your wound as you walked over to the nearest plant with long leaves.

You tore one of them out of the plant and used it as a bandage, as well as some small vines you found nearby. A faint sound of an animal could be heard in the distance and you were thankful you still had your bow and arrows; your knife however was nowhere in sight. You sat down on the ground, closed your eyes and pressed your palm to the ground, you needed to feel her so that she could lead you to one of the sacred places. A few deep breaths calmed your body down and you opened your eyes rapidly, your ears going down – you felt her. After standing up you started following your gut, you had learned to trust it as much as possible. You tried to stay focused on the energy flowing through your body as well as the one flowing through the forest, but those beautiful plants had caught your eye way too many times for your liking, causing you to lose that focus. With each step you felt weaker and even more tired, the journey was taking too long, you felt as if you had been walking for eternity. The sun started showing up, soft light reflected in your sleepy eyes and something in the horizon suddenly caught your attention, you stopped in your tracks. A big tree, with white long vines and a strong aura you could see from far away - the source of power. You smiled to yourself and resumed your walk, you couldn’t give up now, she would heal you at last. When you finally reached the tree, you collapsed at the bottom of its trunk. Your hands took one of the vines and connected it to your queue making a tsaheylu. Your pupils dilated as the purest energy of all flowed slowly through your weak body. Next thing you remember was darkness.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

A sound of flapping wings caused you to open your eyes. You quickly disconnected from the tree and ran behind one of the larger roots to hide. As you were putting one of your arrows on the bow you heard the stranger approaching you. You stood up and pointed your weapon at them, but this wasn’t an enemy - it was a young Na’vi boy, probably close to your age. His bow was also ready to fire an arrow at you and you could tell he was confused too, because his eyes were scanning your body in a rapid pace. When you finally locked eyes, you lowered your weapon. However, he was still holding his up, cautious of you and your actions. But you knew better, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you; it was visible in his eyes that he was not a killer.

‘Who are you?’ He finally asked. ‘Are you an avatar?’

You tilted your head, confused about the new word he used, ‘What’s an avatar?’

He lowered his bow and hung it on his body, ‘Come.’

You didn’t move.

‘You’re Omaticaya, right?’ A question left your lips.

He nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it just as quickly.

‘What’s your name, boy?’

He grimaced at the last word, ‘Neteyam.’

‘(y/n)’ You replied.

For a moment you were standing there in silence, contemplating if you should ask for help. After all, you had nowhere to go to.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked suddenly and stepped closer, which made you take a step back.

‘I got lost.’ You sighed. ‘The sky people found my village and the last thing I can remember is running away.’ You looked up at the tree. ‘I woke up in the forest and followed Eywa’s energy to find one of the sacred places to heal myself.’

‘Heal?’ He tilted his head in confusion once again.

You nodded, ‘I need your help.’ This time it was you who stepped closer. ‘I have to find my parents.’

He nodded, ‘I’ll take you to my grandmother, she’s Tsahik.’

Your ears perked up as you started following him to his ikran, ‘Who is the Olo’eyktan in your clan? Your grandfather?’

‘No, he died before I was born.’ He got on his ikran and offered you his hand. ‘My father is the leader.’

‘Hm.’ You quietly said and wrapped your arms around his chest gently.

You started wondering if you should tell him that you have that in common – being future clan leaders, that is. You knew the pressure, the responsibilities, the expectations and you could talk to him about that, but you wanted to keep that a secret for just a little longer. You could feel his strong energy, there was a certain feeling of calmness radiating from him and you swore it called to you. You have just met him, but he felt like an old friend, someone you never forget.

The ride was pleasant, you were curiously looking around and admiring the view. You thought he would take you to his home, somewhere in the forest, because after all the Omaticaya were a forest clan. It was surprising to say the least, when you landed inside a huge cave in one of the mountains.

‘I thought you were supposed to be tree people?’ You furrowed your eyebrows as you were looking around the village.

Neteyam helped you get down from the animal and softly laughed, ‘We are, but our home was destroyed.’ He looked down. ‘I never got to see it.’

You rested your hand on his arm and rubbed it softly, ‘I’m sorry, Neteyam. I am sure it was very beautiful.’

He sent you a soft smile which you reciprocated. Your eyes were locked with his, but he broke the eye contact due to something or rather someone coming from behind you. You turned around, a man was slowly approaching you, an elderly woman following after him.

‘That is father and grandmother.’ Neteyam stated from behind you.

‘Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan, Tsahik.**’ You made the proper gesture and felt their tough gaze on you.

They greeted you in the same way and then looked at Neteyam. You knew exactly why they were confused just like he had been. It was because of your hair.

‘I come from the Mangkwan People.’ You announced in order to avoid unnecessary questions.

The Tsahik walked over to you and inspected your whole body, especially one part of it.

‘It’s been a while since I saw one of you.’ She said calmly. ‘Where is the rest of your clan?’

‘I don’t know.’ You sighed. ‘That’s why I’m here, I need to find them and I need help.’

She looked at Neteyam’s father who gave her a firm nod.

‘You can stay with us child.’ She informed you. ‘What are you called?’

‘(y/n) te Magte Leta’ite.’ You whispered your full name and the woman gasped softly, but didn’t say anything.

Neteyam exchanged a look with his father, both uncertain about the Tsahik’s reaction. The Olo’eyktan made a gesture towards his son to come closer and he whispered something into his ear. The young heir nodded and turned his attention to you.

‘Come, I’ll show you around.’

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

After a brief walk through the village, which mostly consisted of you trying not to pay attention to the people whispering as you walked by, you arrived at what you figured would be Neteyam’s home.

‘This is where we sleep. There is not a lot of space but I can give you my own area if you want to rest, I’ll just share with my brother.’

‘Oh, no, it’s okay. I can sleep on the floor, I don’t mind it.’ You chuckled. ‘No, but really, you don’t have to give up your space for me, I’ll be good with anything.’

He smiled at you and his eyes followed your movements as you were admiring the inside.

‘Forgive me for staring at you so much before.’ You turned around to face him. ‘I’ve heard legends about your clan and I was surprised that..’

‘I’m real?’ You softly laughed. ‘It’s okay, I know you don’t see people like me every day.’ Your happy expression faded away.

‘What’s wrong?’ He approached you.

You sat down without looking at him and he did the same, ‘There isn’t many of us left.’ You turned your head to look into his eyes. ‘That’s why you don’t see us often. We always run away, hide in the shadows, we don’t engage in anything… I’m sure your grandmother remembers the times when my clan would happily help others when in need, but times have changed. All I know how to do is run away.’

‘You don’t have to do that anymore, I’m sure your clan would be welcome here. To stay with us.’

You lifted one corner of your mouth, ‘Thanks, tree boy.’

‘Who is that, brother?’ Your focus shifted from the boy sitting next to you to the girls standing in the entrance.

‘(y/n).’ You answered before he could open his mouth. ‘May I know your names?’

‘I’m Kiri and this is Tuk.’ She replied and looked down at the smaller girl hiding behind her leg.

‘Come here, I don’t bite.’ You smiled at them.

They carefully came closer and sat in front of you. Their reaction was similar to everybody else, their eyes weren’t looking into yours, but above. You curiously looked Kiri up and down, there was something in this girl you couldn’t quite put into words, a powerful energy illuminated from her body.

‘Dad wanted to talk to you.’ She said to Neteyam.

‘Oh, okay.’ He quickly stood up. ‘I’ll be right back, treat her nicely, she’s our guest.’

He left their home, your gaze followed him as he got lost in the sea of other Omaticaya people. Meanwhile, Tuk was still taking in your strange looks, a confused frown was on her face.

‘You want to touch it?’ You asked her and she nodded eagerly.

She crawled closer to you and started playing with your hair, ‘It looks like it glows! Does it glow in the dark?’

‘Sometimes.’ You replied with a funny expression on your face.

‘Can you show me? Please!’

‘Maybe one day, okay?’ She nodded in reply.

‘Do you need someone to patch you up?’ Kiri asked.

‘Sorry, what?’ You gave her a confused reply to which she gave a nod towards your bandaged thigh. ‘Oh! I forgot about that. It’s okay, it’s fully healed.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Eywa healed me.’ You replied while taking off the leaves and vines, Tuk was still playing with your hair.

‘What?’ Her ears perked up and she sat up straighter. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘When I connect to the source, such as your big sacred tree, I can transfer Eywa’s power into my body to heal myself.’ You explained like it was nothing. ‘See? All good.’ You showed her your thigh which now only had a small, faint scar in the place you were stabbed.

You looked up to see her puzzled expression and it took everything in you to not laugh.

‘You need to teach me how to do it.’ She finally whispered.

‘I can try, but it’s a difficult craft. It requires patience, meditation, and strength, spiritual strength. My people start training the moment they connect with Eywa for the first time and it takes years to master it.’ You told her. ‘But I feel that you have all that is needed. I’ll teach you when the time comes.’

‘Really?’ She covered her mouth in shock. ‘Thank you!’

‘It’s nothing.’ You smiled and looked over at Tuk. ‘Are you having fun?’

‘Mhm!’ She exclaimed. ‘Can I braid some of it?’

‘Of course.’ Her smile warmed up your heart.

It’s been a while since you sat down and had your hair done by anyone, so why not let the little kid do it? You shifted your gaze to look outside and saw Neteyam talking to a girl. A light clench could be felt in your heart, why was your body doing that?

‘Is that your brother’s mate?’ You asked and gave a nod towards them.

Kiri turned around to see who you were referring to, ‘He hasn’t chosen yet. Mother is expecting him to do that soon but he keeps postponing it, he says he has to be sure.’ She explained and you felt a relief inside. ‘And that is Nelao, mother thinks she would be the perfect Tsahik, but I disagree.’

‘Why?’ Your curiosity won. ‘She looks nice.’

‘She does, but I just don’t feel like she’s the right fit for my brother.’ She murmured. ‘Nelao overheard my mother talking about her being the new Tsahik. Because of that she’s so certain he will chose her that she doesn’t even leave his side.’

‘You would be a better Tsahik, (y/n).’ Tuk peeped in.

You tilted your head and giggled, ‘I would be, indeed.’ You paused. ‘And I will. Perks of being the daughter of the clan leaders.’

‘Your parents are Tsahik and Olo’eyktan?’ Kiri gasped. ‘Why didn’t you say it before?!’

‘I like being secretive.’ You smiled. ‘Revealing too much information at once isn’t a good idea, trust me.’

‘You can be our Tsahik if you want to.’ Tuk added.

‘Tuk! You can’t say things like that!’ Kiri scolded her sister.

‘Why not?’

‘Well, for once, she may already have someone betrothed to her.’ Kiri explained and turned her attention to you. ‘Do you have someone promised to you?’

You shook your head, ‘No.’

You wanted to add more, but you bit your tongue. Your parents have shown you a few young men to marry, but none of them felt right. You had to feel it inside and you couldn’t choose just because they expected that, it was your decision after all. And it’s not like you didn’t try, you hung out with some of them, talked with them, laughed with them, and yet none of them matched your energy in a way you longed for.

‘See? She can be our Tsahik.’ The little girl muttered and Kiri just rolled her eyes.

‘I’m sorry for my sister.’

‘It’s okay.’ You giggled. ‘Don’t be sorry for her, be grateful that she’s here to make your day more interesting.’

She smiled at you, ‘She sure is.’

‘All done! Do you like it?’ Tuk asked and showed you a few braids she had done.

‘They are perfect! Thank you ‘evi.***’ You gave her a quick hug to show your gratitude.

‘Kiri can you show me where you clean yourselves? I think I need to wash away the dirt.’ You turned to the older sister.

‘Oh my, of course! I’m sorry I should have asked you if you needed anything! Can I offer you some new clothes?’

‘If you’d be so kind.’ You smiled.

The three of you got up and you followed them hastily. On your way out you locked eyes with Neteyam who was still talking to Nelao, he shot you a quick smirk which made you look down and break the eye contact.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

After changing and cleaning yourself up you sat down on the edge of the cave. You were taking in the view unfolding in front of your eyes.

‘Where are you mom?’ You whispered and felt someone approach you from behind.

‘We have not had a chance to meet. My name is Neytiri, I am Neteyam’s mother.’ The beautiful woman spoke up.

‘(y/n).’ You smiled and bowed your head to greet her.

‘Can I join you?’ You nodded in approval.

She sat down next to you, ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s extraordinary. I love looking at Pandora from above.’ You replied.

‘You have your own ikran?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know where she is. I was hoping to go search for her in the morning with Neteyam if that’s possible?’ You asked and quickly looked down. ‘Or any warrior for that matter, it doesn’t have to be him.’

Neytiri smiled sweetly, ‘I’m sure he would love to help you.’

You shyly raised your head and while looking into her eyes reciprocated the smile. For a moment both of you were sitting there quietly, enjoying the darkness with some glowing plants in the distance. Your ears perked up when you remembered a strange word Neteyam had said to you before.

‘What’s an avatar?’ You asked your companion out of the blue.

She looked at you confused, ‘You don’t know?’

‘No, I am not familiar with that word.’ You answered. ‘Neteyam asked me if I was one and I didn’t know what it meant.’

Neytiri roughly explained to you the concept of the word, she also used the term dream walkers. You also found out that her husband was an avatar before, which surprised you, it’s weird you haven’t noticed his additional fingers.

‘Your husband has a strong spirit, strong heart. I could feel it.’

‘He does.’ She whispered. ‘It’s late, we should head inside.’

You nodded and stood up to follow the woman inside their family home.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

When you woke up there was nobody in the tent with you. While you were stretching a big yawn escaped your lips. There was some water left next to you in a small pot, you picked it up and took a few big sips. You wiped your mouth and stood up to go outside and search for any of the familiar faces. You approached Neteyam who was giving some food to his ikran.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi, did you sleep well?’ He looked at you.

‘Um, yeah, it was a good night.’ You mumbled. ‘Are you going to help me today? With finding my ikran and my people?’

‘Oh! Yes, right, I have this thing here for you.’ He pulled out some sort of device. ‘This goes around your neck and this into your ear. Those are comms we use for communicating. ‘He pointed to the one he was wearing. ‘I’ll show you how they work.’

He installed everything on you and explained step by step to you how to use it. The whole time you tried to stay composed and steady, but his fingers brushing your skin were not helping. After that you both got on his ikran, the first place you wanted to check was the one you woke up at and that’s where you navigated him. You were using your memory and it was hard doing it from above since you were inside the forest while looking for a way out. Neteyam was patient with you, he landed a few times in the wrong places because you thought each could be the right one, thankfully one of them was. You got off the ikran and immediately noticed your blood on the grass. It was faint but because of daylight you could see the trail you were running through that night. You followed the blood with Neteyam by your side.

‘Mom! Dad!’ You shouted into the forest but received no response.

Suddenly a faint ikran roar erupted through the trees. Your ears perked up and you quickly ran towards the sound while making noises to lure in the animal.

‘Wait for me!’ You heard the man shout behind you, but you didn’t stop.

Soon you noticed something blue moving between two trees and you slowly approached it.

‘Ra’ia.’ You whispered and came closer to your ikran.

You noticed she was covered with a net and that was the thing disallowing her to move. You spotted your knife next to her and grabbed it to free the animal. Now everything made sense, they must’ve shot that net at you which caused both of you to fall down, you somehow freed yourself and dropped your knife while running away.

‘I’m sorry I left you Ra’ia.’ You whispered while you were hugging her neck and stroking her skin with one of your hands. ‘Thank you Great Mother for keeping her safe.’

‘Is that your ikran?’ You heard Neteyam’s voice.

‘Yes.’ You nodded. ‘Her name is Ra’ia.’

‘It’s suits her.’

‘Thanks.’ You chuckled. ‘We should check my village now.’

He gave you a nod and started calling for his own animal.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

The place was a mess. Your started to feel heavy when you noticed limp bodies of your people laying on the ground. You took a deep breath and wiped away the tears already falling down from your eyes. With each person you examined you felt your heart break even more. However it broke down completely when you noticed your father’s broken bow, his hand wrapped around the weapon. You swallowed a big lump and took cautious steps towards him.

This can’t be real. He’s okay, he has to be okay.

‘Dad?’ You whispered when you finally reached his side you moved his body, he didn’t move. ‘Dad, come on.’ You cried. ‘Wake up! You can’t do this to me!’ You shouted and started shaking his body.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and started pulling you away.

‘No!’ You shouted. ‘NO!’

Neteyam embraced you in a hug which you were trying to break out of, ‘Let me go! He’s okay! We have to get him help!’

‘I’m sorry, (y/n).’He whispered and held you tighter. ‘There is nothing we can do for him, we need to go.’

You were crying your eyes out, your screams were stopping in your throat along with the tears you were choking on. You don’t know how long Neteyam was trying to calm you down, it could’ve been 20 minutes or 3 hours, you had no idea. His palm was stroking your hair and his chest was wet from your tears, but it was working, he finally managed to help you steady your breath and stop crying.

‘Can you help me bury him?’ You looked up at him with glossy eyes. ‘Please, Neteyam.’

‘Of course.’ He replied and kissed the top of your head gently.

There was a sacred place, a small tree close to your village where you would bury the dead. Neteyam helped you carry your father’s body there, you whispered a quick prayer to him and to Eywa. You connected your queue to the sacred tree and experienced a vision. Instead of seeing your father you saw your mother in some kind of metal home, perhaps a capsule? It was strange and covered in various plants. You gasped and collapsed right into Neteyam’s arms. You looked at him and explained where you think your mother may be.

He widened his eyes, ‘I think I know where that is.’

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

‘Mom?’ You called out. ‘Mom are you there!?’

You moved closer to the entrance of the shack and looked through the broken window. Your mother was nowhere in sight.

‘She’s not inside, do you know if there is anywhere she could-‘

‘(y/n)?’ You heard your mother’s voice coming from the bushes.

You moved closer to the sound, ‘Mom? Yes, yes mom, it’s me.’

Her fragile silhouette emerged from the plants and she instantly collapsed into your arms, crying.

‘Your father..‘ She cried. ‘He..’

‘I know, ma, I know…’ You started caressing her tangled hair. ‘It’s going to be okay, ma.’

‘You need to find someone to lead the clan, you need to find a mate, daughter. We have to find the others as soon as we can, it is the only way.’ She explained and looked up to rest her sad eyes on Neteyam. ‘Who’s that?’

‘That’s my friend. We’re going to take you to a safe place.’ You explained. ‘The Omaticaya will take care of you, of us.’

‘No, no, we can’t. They are going to be hunting us. They know what we can do and they don’t like it.’ She stammered.

‘They are hunting my people too.’ Neteyam finally spoke up. ‘I can’t guarantee you will be safe in our hideout, but going there is the best thing I can offer you right now.’

‘We have to go, ma.’ You helped her stand up. ‘It’s okay, come on.’

The flight to the Omaticaya camp was peaceful, with no surprises from the enemy, but you felt your mother’s broken energy the whole time and it was draining you. You felt her pain, it was mixing with yours and creating a dreadful combination. There was also her unwillingness to go with you so she complained for most of the ride. When you finally arrived you were greeted by Mo’at, who immediately recognised your mother. She took her away from everyone and they both disappeared in her tent. You sighed and turned around to face Neteyam.

‘Thank you.’ You said. ‘For helping me. With finding my mother, Ra’ia and my..’ You paused, tears were starting to form in your eyes.

‘Hey, hey, you don’t have to thank me for this.’ He took your hand into his, caressing your knuckles softly with his fingers. ‘I’ll help you anytime you need me.’

You smiled up at him, ‘Do you-‘

‘Neteyam!’ A voice called out which made him drop your hand. ‘Is that this new friend of yours everyone is talking about? My name is Nelao.’

She grabbed Neteyam’s arm and hugged it to her body. The sight made your heart feel like a needle was going straight through it. You told her your name and complemented her own.

‘Thank you. Yours is quite unique as well.’ She looked up at Neteyam. ‘Shall we go? You must be hungry!’ She turned to you. ‘You’re welcome to join us, of course.’

You shook your head, ‘Maybe later, but thank you for invitation.’

You started walking away and looked at the man one more time, to your surprise you locked eyes with him once again. Then Nelao pulled him away as they headed to feast with the others. You approached Mo’at’s tent in hopes to find out how your mother was doing.

‘We have to find the rest. My daughter needs a mate, we need a new leader, Mo’at. I cannot believe all of this is happening.’ You heard your mother’s broken voice through the thin tent material. ‘I lost him, it hurts so much.’

‘I know what it feels like. I lost my husband because of these demons too. Your clan is welcome to stay with us when they are found.’ Mo’at spoke up. ‘Accept our help, Leta.’

‘It’s not nice to eavesdrop, you know?’ Neteyam’s voice startled you.

‘And why are you not participating in the feast?’ You tilted your head to the side.

‘I just..’ He paused. ‘Can we talk?’

You nodded, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you are the next Tsahik?’

‘What?’ You asked confused. ‘How-‘

‘I overheard your mother saying it to you before, she wasn’t particularly quiet so it’s not my fault.’

‘Right.’ You gave him a nod and smirked. ‘Do you want to go for a ride?’

‘If I do, will you answer my question?’ He tilted his head.

You shrugged, ‘Come and find out.’

You giggled and started running away to get on your ikran. Neteyam shook his head and followed your steps.

‘Where are we even going?’

‘You’ll see.’ You replied and took off, the man right behind you.

Throughout the flight you were constantly messing with him, whether that would be shoving him from the side or disappearing behind a mountain to scare him. He was pretending to be mad, but you knew he liked it. When you saw your destination you increased your speed. He tried chasing you trying to outrun your ikran, but to no avail.

‘It’s even more beautiful at night.’ You whispered when you landed.

‘It is.’ He replied, but he wasn’t looking at The Spirit Tree.

He was looking at something else or rather someone.

‘Come on, let’s go sit under it.’ You grabbed his hand and ran towards the tree.

For a moment you were just enjoying each other’s presence and looking around at the bioluminescent grass, leaves and vines. Well, you were the one looking around when his gaze was mostly lingering on your form.

‘So?’ He broke the silence which made you sigh.

‘I didn’t want to be defined by that. You out of all people should know the burden this role carries.’ You paused. ‘All the responsibilities, risks, duties… I just… I sometimes wish I wasn’t next in line.’ You looked at your hands. ‘Especially now when my mother urges me to find a mate immediately. Someone to step in for… You know.’

He nodded, ‘Yeah, I know what all of that feels like.’

‘But I can’t just take anyone and I think she doesn’t understand it. I have to feel it inside, it has to feel-‘

‘Right.’ He interrupted you.

‘Exactly!’ You exclaimed. ‘At least you already have someone to mate with.’ You whispered.

‘Huh?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you talking about Nelao?’

You nodded, ‘She seems really nice. You should be grateful your mom chose someone like that for you.’

‘She is nice, but at the end of the day it is not my mother’s decision.’ He responded. ‘It is mine.’

He raised his palm and rested it on your cheek.

‘And I don’t want Nelao.’

You felt heat going up to your cheeks and his face was slowly getting closer to yours. The kiss was slow and passionate, but most importantly – it felt right.

You were the first to break the kiss, ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Are you?’ He asked.

You nodded your head eagerly, ‘You know, from the moment I saw you, your energy has called out to me.’

‘My energy?’ He chuckled.

You softly punched his arm, ‘Do not laugh at me! Last time I checked, I was the one seeing and feeling what you don’t.’

‘Oh, and that makes me worse than you?’ He tilted his head playfully.

‘Yes.’ You giggled and connected your lips with his eagerly.

After a while both of you pulled out your queues and observed how they connected with each other. The feeling was almost euphoric, something you have never felt before. You felt Neteyam’s energy, you saw it so vividly in your mind, all of his good and bad sides, everything about him was in front of you like an open book. All of it melted into your own body, your own energy mixed with his as you became one. There was no denying that all of this felt right.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You woke up in the morning only because someone towered over you and their presence was enough to awaken you. You slowly opened your eyes and you felt Neteyam’s arm on your stomach, your back pressed to his chest. When your vision cleared up you looked up and saw your mother’s angry face.

‘Did you mate with this boy!?’ She screamed, which made Neteyam and you quickly sit up.

Jake was standing behind her and guided her to take a step back. Neytiri was also present, but she was behind the two, a small smirk spread out on her face.

‘Answer me, daughter.’

You stood up, your fingers intertwined with Neteyam’s, ‘Yes, mother.’

She scoffed, ‘You were supposed to find someone from our clan!’

‘It is my fault.’ Neteyam spoke up. ‘I was the one to-‘

‘No, it isn’t.’ You shook your head.’ It was all because of Eywa. We met before her and we mated before her.’ You told your mother. ‘From the moment I saw him I knew we were meant to be together, his energy called me, it lured me in and I could not resist. The feeling was stronger than anything else.’

Your mother shook her head, but deep down she knew exactly what you were talking about. She had felt the same thing when she first laid her eyes on your father. She looked up at Jake who just shrugged his arms.

‘There is nothing we can do about it.’ He told her. ‘It is done.’

‘There is nothing wrong with uniting our clans.’ Neytiri spoke up. ‘I must say, I think it’s necessary. Especially in those dark times.’

You smiled at her and she reciprocated the gesture. You turned to your mother with pleading eyes.

‘Please, ma.’

She was looking between the two of you quickly and her gaze finally rested on your mate.

‘Fine.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. ‘At least it’s done now. All we have to do is find the rest of the clan, but I must say, the boy I chose for you will not be very pleased about this.’

‘Ma!’ You scolded her.

‘The boy she chose for you?’ Neteyam asked.

‘She chose like 5 boys for me.’ You chuckled. ‘But they don’t matter anymore, do they?’

‘I guess they don’t.’ He smiled at you.

‘We should head back to the camp.’ Jake said. ‘And please, don’t sneak out in the night, I don’t want your siblings to follow your footsteps.’

‘Yes sir.’ Netayam nodded.

Everyone turned around and started walking towards their ikrans, you and Neteyam following after them.

‘I knew this would happen.’ You heard Neytiri whisper to her husband.

‘Who didn’t?’ He quietly replied.

You chuckled and turned your head to Neteyam. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

‘Want to race to the camp?’ You asked and started running to your animal before the man had a chance to process your question.

He shook his head and ran after you. He would always run after you.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you!! xx

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#neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar the movie #avatar the way of water #avatar #imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #neteyam x female reader #fluff #angst #neteyam angst #neteyam fluff

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mystra-midnight · 10 months

Text

Howl

summary: it was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist.

warnings: rough sex. choking. slight praise kink. all-around smutty goodness. geralt is a dominant and dirty sob.

word count: 3.2k

notes: honestly i’m not sure exactly where this idea came from but i can say it is partly inspired by the song howl by florence and the machine.

"_____"

You’d not been expecting to see him again so soon. Geralt had visited only a few days ago to satisfy the desire that beat at him incessantly and without remorse. Some of the villagers said you should never have allowed the White Wolf sanctuary within your home—that fateful event had begun your tumultuous relationship—but reclusiveness often came with loneliness, and that was something the two of you shared.

It was not love that kept him coming back, but a need for company, for an evening of peace where the world outside the shaking walls of your cottage ceased to exist. In those few hours before the sun rose, what you’d always hoped for would come true: loneliness would forget your address.

So when you hear his voice, it’s a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

You can’t prevent the smile that finds your lips as you place the bowl on the counter. Your hands ache as you wipe them on the front of your skirts, leaving them damp and dirty. You’d been kneading dough to make bread in the morning, and now your fingers were stiff and clumps of dough were stuck beneath your nails.

But none of that was why you froze after turning to face him.

He was standing in the doorway, filling the frame with his bulk. There was blood splattered on his face, dripping from his plump lips; it was fresh and likely still warm. It was also still wet; you could see it glistening on his dark leather armour beneath the moonlight peeking in through the doorway, but this was not what made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes were as black as the night and narrowed with dangerous focus. There were tendrils snaking along his skin, stretching like a Kraken’s tentacles reaching out through the deep ocean in search of prey. His aura was strong, filling the room despite the distance between you. It was powerful and condemning, making you shiver.

"Geralt." You were careful to keep your voice low and calm, knowing that he was unpredictable in this state. You’d heard rumours about what he was like and what moods would take him when he took his witcher potions. Every one of his senses would be heightened more than they already were: sight, smell, and taste, but those were the obvious ones.

His body was likely on fire with urgent need. His mind would be in a haze. His thoughts would be overwhelmed with sensation and the desire to feel the satin clutch of your cunt wrapped around his aching cock. Your eyes drift down to find the bulge at the front of his pants, confirming your suspicions.

He steps into the cottage, which seems much smaller with him inside. He moves slowly, but you have no retreat; the small of your back is pressed tightly against the counter you had been working at only moments ago. His boots thudded on the woodwork, tracking mud, dirt, and god knows what else across the floor. He hasn’t even closed the door.

His blackened eyes feast on the sight of you—the way your skin prickles with goosebumps beneath the cold air sweeping through the door, how your nipples harden into peaks beneath the assault of his stare and your own thoughts.

You like the Witcher well enough but know enough about him to maintain a healthy balance of respect and apprehension. "Are you hurt?" You ask in a quiet voice, fighting to keep the tremor from your words but failing. "I have bandages."

His low growl was enough to silence you.

"Take off your clothes."

His command was absolute, leaving no room for argument. It was like a slap to the face, leaving you startled and staring at him with wide eyes. But the rumble of his voice was deep and memorising, making your pussy weep as moisture pooled at the apex of your thighs. You press yourself tighter against the counter until the small of your back aches beneath the pressure.

"Geralt, I-"

He crossed the distance remaining between the two of you with unnatural speed, his hand coming up to clutch you roughly by the throat, silencing you as his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck. The warmth of his body is intoxicating, or maybe it was his grip on your neck that made you feel lightheaded as he forced you backwards, bending you back until your elbows pressed painfully into the counter and your skirts pressed firmly against the front of his trousers.

"Do not speak," he instructs. "Not unless it is to tell me you’re cumming."

His fingers clutch tighter at your throat, the pads of them pressing so roughly into the arteries either side of your neck that your vision blurs, and you wheeze in protest. You grabbed at his wrist when your lungs began to burn, your dirty nails clawing at his skin.

Geralt was not a gentleman; you knew this. He had never been a gentleman, nor would he be. When you found him half dead at the edge of the stream, manticore venom oozing from the puncture wound in his shoulder, you knew he was a force of nature, too stubborn to die. And you knew from the rumours that he took what he pleased and ignored the repercussions of his actions. You knew all of this, and you still brought him home.

He'd taken you the first night he’d awoken, delirious and in pain, and you’d let him. His hands held your hips so tightly that they’d bruised, his cock stretching your tight pussy in delicious and delirious ways as he took you from behind, the tip of him pressed against your cervix, your face smushed into the mattress. He’d stayed for four days and taken you repeatedly, until your legs couldn’t support your own weight and your body ached.

So when his fingers bite tighter into your neck, making darkness encroach on the edge of your vision, and tears dance on your lashline, you’re not all that surprised. Geralt fucked like he fought: teeth, tongue, and aggression.

Geralt towered over you, making you feel so small. He has you bent backwards so that your tits are thrust out. Your lips part in a mewl that goes unheard. Geralt kisses you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, swallowing the little gasp you make when his fingers tear open the front of your dress, exposing your goose-prickled skin to the night air.

His lips taste like blood and something else—perhaps the ingredients of his potions. One moment they’re sweet like berries, and the next repugnant, leaving your desires whiplashed.

At long last, he lets go of your throat and grabs roughly at your skirts, bunching them up at your waist. You suck in a much-needed breath, coughing and spluttering; your lungs burning violently, and your body threatening to collapse to the ground. Geralt palms your tits roughly, his nails scraping at your skin on the wrong side of pleasure. He pinches your nipple hard, pulling on it cruelly to lure you up from the counter.

You whine in protest, but he keeps you silent with another kiss, his teeth dragging over your lower lip, tongue in the wet cavern of your mouth, twisting with your tongue. Geralt is like fire, and you are a moth to his flame.

Your hands move on their own accord, pressing firmly into his chest as though to push him away. Your fingers come away coated in blood, sticky as you fist them in his white hair, bloodying his already dirty locks. Geralt is rough, sitting you on the edge of the counter and shoving your thighs apart, making space for his hand to be shoved to the apex of your thighs, his fingers finding the thatch of damp curls.

His name is a whine that dies on your tongue before it can be said when his instructions repeat in your mind like a warning. You have half a mind to push him away. His lips are too rough as they suck dark marks along the side of your neck and shoulder, and his teeth leave red crescent moons as he tastes your skin.

His hand at your hip is holding too tightly, his fingertips bruising your skin despite the layers of skirts that hinder him. You want to speak, want to tell him to let you go, want to tell him to be gentle, but your throat aches more with each whimper and moan he forces from you, reminding you about the power of his hands.

He could break you very easily.

The tips of his fingers nudge your clit, making your breath catch in your throat in a needy whine. His mouth is still on your neck, having never left, leaving a map of darkening bruises along your collarbones and the hollow of your throat until you pull desperately on his hair to drag his mouth back to yours.

He pushes two fingers into your weeping hole, hitting deep without giving you time to adjust. His hands are large, his fingers thick, stretching your snug walls. You cling to him as pleasure sweeps through you, a bloodied hand still tangled in his starlight locks, your lips parting against his in a breathless plea as his fingers crash into you, forcing your legs to fall further apart.

"Look at you," he whispers against your trembling lips. "Such a good girl."

His teeth trap your lower lip in a voracious bite, one that was hard enough to have your inside walls clenching tightly around his probing fingers, leaving tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. He sucks your lip into his mouth, laving his tongue over the reddening bite, before letting it go with a lewd pop. You whine, your nails scratching beautifully at his scalp when his heel of his palm hits your clit.

"Geralt!" You keen loudly when he finds your sweet spot, a leg kicking out in reaction. He grabs your thigh in a cruel grip and spreads you open again, shushing you with a harsh growl. He works faster now that he’s found it, his palm slapping against your buzzing clit with every thrust of his arm, making your body twitch.

He runs his tongue across your heated skin, leaving a wet stripe from one of your nipples, over the bruises on your shoulder, up your neck, and to your mouth. You feel his smug smirk as he presses a kiss against your cupid's bow and again when he drags his lips across your cheek, tasting the tears that have fallen.

"You can take another one."

He isn’t asking.

You burrow your fingers into his hair in an attempt to anchor yourself when the familiar white-hot heat of orgasm starts seizing your organs. You shake your head from side to side, your hair tumbling wildly around your face, straining to close your legs when the pressure builds.

Geralt pinches the fat of your thigh, then your nipple, and then grabs your face roughly. His fingers dig into your mandible, forcing your lips open. You stare up at him with lust-blown eyes. You think he might hit you; you hope that he doesn’t; you hope that he does; you don’t even know what you want anymore.

The next time he thrusts into your fucked-open hole, it is with three fingers, and something inside you just snaps. He hits deep, finds that spot again with the tips of all three fingers, and you break with full-body twitches that make your entire body tremble beneath him as you come completely undone. "I’m - I’m gonna - cum!"

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until your juice is escaping around his fingers, coating your thighs and dripping from the thatch of curls that crown your pretty cunt. He doesn't stop when you pant at him, when you moan for mercy, or when you wriggle your hips and try to push him away. Instead, he buries his fingers in your cunt, scissors them in your gummy walls, and kisses you hard: teeth, tongue, and hard male aggression.

You're still coming down from the clouds when he manhandles you into position, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your core, beating in time with your wild heart. He puts you on your knees. Your arms are weak and unable to support your weight, so you press your cheek against the ground. Your skirts are bunched around your waist, your glistening cunt exposed to his hungry gaze.

You hear his swords clattering to the ground, followed seconds later by his belt, and then he spreads your lips open with his thumbs, making your inner muscles clench desperately. Geralt licks from your swollen clit to your pretty hole, using his tongue to push the slick back into you. He hums with pleasure when your body jerks at the sensation.

"You taste like heaven." He says it with a hum, his breath hot against your cunt, making your core drip with wanton desire. He eats you like a man possessed, as though he were on the brink of death and your pussy alone could save him. Ever so slowly, one hand started sliding up while the other slid down, moving in a circular motion at your hips.

You whimper at the gentleness, the sound going straight to his cock, which twitches against his stomach in response. His palms the soft globes of your ass and spreads your cheeks, his tongue prodding through your folds once again. He runs the flat of his tongue from your clit, to your pretty hole, then to your nether hole. He has you teetering on the edge of oblivion when he stops, and before you can whine for more, you feel the head of his cock splitting you open.

You scratch at the dirty ground, desperate for something to hold onto, when he buries himself completely in your cunt with a single thrust, tearing a howling moan from your throat as you come undone again, inner walls spasming around him. Nothing about Geralt of Rivia is small, certainly not his cock. He’s pressed against your cervix, and it feels like he's in the back of your throat, like he’s going to break you as your pussy strains to accommodate his girth.

It never mattered how many times he made you cum; accommodating his cock was always a harsh demand.

Geralt does not stay still for long, giving you no time to adjust to his girth; his hips pull back only to snap forwards again. The force of his thrust pushes you forwards, your tits and cheek catching on the muddy floor, and your nipples pebble even more beneath the rough stimulation. His pace is frenzied and without mercy.

In this state, he is unconcerned with your pleasure and instead focuses on his own. He loves the velvet heat of your inner walls and how they wrap so tightly around him. He loves when your cunt swallows every inch he has to give. He loves when your arousal slicks down your thighs, drips from your mound, and puddles on the floor beneath you. He loves the way your thighs tremble when he finds the right angle for his hips, and he always finds it.

He loves when you're gagging on him, on your knees, and looking up at him as though he hung the stars in the sky. He loves seeing your skin marked with bruises, how you flush with embarrassment, and how you try to hide them from the other villages. He loves that you are addicted to him. He does not love you, though, and you're smart enough to know this.

Geralt fucks harder when he feels your gummy walls clamping on his cock in a vice-like grip. Pleasure starts to sear in your veins. His fingers are like coils of iron around your hips, holding so tight that you're sure your bones are bending.

And just when you think it can't feel better and that he can't do anything else to make you lose your mind, he shadows over you, his chest pressing against your back.

You feel the hard buckles of his armour pressing into your back through the tattered remains of your dress; you can feel the fabric dampening with blood, but it’s the furthest thought from your mind. Geralt forces your legs further apart and continues his assault on your core. The pleasurable feeling builds, and you bite your bottom lip hard, almost cutting through your own skin, to keep from screaming. The door was still open; anyone could see; everyone could hear.

But when the mushroom head of his cock crashes into that spot hard enough to make your entire body shudder, you’re lost.

Your muffled moans became screams of pleasure that seem to shake the walls of your cottage. Geralt continued to drill into you with bruising force, his hips hitting your ass with a constant slap, slap, slap. You feel your orgasm start and then instantly crash over you. Geralt buries himself to the hilt with a gutteral groan, his cock pulsing as he exploded, filling you with ribbons of cum.

He held himself perfectly still while your sweet cunt rippled around him, your thighs violently shaking, threatening to go out from under you. It was only his arm wrapped around your waist that kept you up. And when your trembling slowed and you'd barely caught your breath, your inner walls still fluttering around his cock, he fucked into you again and again, dragging his seed out and then pushing it back in, working it like lubricant.

You whine in protest.

"Geralt, I don’t think I-"

He fists a hand in your hair, crushing the sweaty strands in his fingers as he hauls you to your knees, your words morphing into a screech mid-sentence. Fresh tears spring to your eyes and run down your cheeks like rivers. You're crying because it feels so fucking good, because the pleasure is quickly becoming too much, because he is rough and passionate, and you can't get enough of it. You open and close your mouth, your voice refusing to make a sound other than little grunts and groans as he bucks up into you.

If he were to die right now, he would never come to regret this.

If you died, neither would you.

His hands move, are everywhere and nowhere all at once, and then one of them is at your throat, his fingertips finding their earlier position upon the sides of your neck and digging in, making you lightheaded once again. The other one is on your tits, pinching cruelly at a nipple to start and then palming at them roughly.

He was an animal, a beast, and you didn't want him any other way.

"Cum!" You manage to choke out, your vision blurring with tears while you stare at the stars through the opened door. "Gonna cum!"

You cry out in rapture as he groans against your shoulder. Geralt clenches his jaw, his hands gripping brutally at your body, pinning you to him as your cunt chokes the life out of him. If someone were to ask him, he would swear that he'd died when you twitched and trembled against him, your arousal dripping from the both of you, mixing with his as he filled you again.

Geralt lets you fall limp to the ground, your body still trembling, his seed leaking from your fucked-open hole. He falls beside you and rolls onto his back, chest heaving and eyes amber once again.

If someone were to ask him, he'd swear he'd died, and he'd swear he'd found solace buried in your cunt.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n

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writefightandflightclub · 6 months

Text

It’s a sick fic (Marc takes care of reader)! I’m in bed with pesky sniffles today, so naturally my mind is wandering to these things. Not proofed / elaborated bc of the aforementioned. Also, Marc was the obvious choice for comfort today because this morning I read @astroboots’ wonderful period sex with Marc fic! So, he was on the brain and I definitely have to acknowledge that fic had a large part in spawning this. I strongly suggest you read CiCi’s fic, in fact, and ignore this one 😝 (see my last reblog if you’d like to check it out).

Warnings: painkiller mentions; reader is ill. Comfort from Marc.

You’re sick in bed.

Marc’s all worried. Has been dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth, hovering around as you dozed and timing out your rounds of painkillers.

When you stir again this time, from the sticky haze of a fever dream - and not in a good way - Marc is poised on the lip of bed, all DeNiro brow, crumpled up in concern until his eyebrows knit together and his puppy dog eyes shine beneath.

Even in this state he stirs something deep between your loins; not that you’d be in any position to act on it.

“Marc,” you croak softly, forcing a thin smile, but it does little to assuage his worry.

“Heyyyy, Shortcake,” he says softly, forcing a smile up until his eyes crinkle with the effort of it. “How are you doing?”

You pop your lower lip, feeling a little sorry for yourself. “Still quite bleugh.”

His face tightens with pain, and you feel a pang of guilt for not downplaying it more. He does worry something rotten about you.

He dips forward, his Magen David pooling against your chest. Providing a pleasant, cooling shock against your tacky skin. You feel Marc’s lips softly brush your forehead with a kiss. “Well, I’ve got something for ya.”

Your eyes tick to the clock in confusion. “Already had the medicine. Not time yet,” you argue weakly, in a babyfied voice.

He smiles softly, and this time it is not forced - it’s hard for him to hold it back. “Not that kind of medicine. Here, I’ll show you.”

He scoops your hands up gently into his, and they feel rough and sturdy against you. You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you don’t really have the strength to argue either; however, luckily, you trust him implicitly, and you know he won’t lead you wrong.

“I’m not supposed t’ do this. Told Khonshu it was an emergency. Ground the bastard down eventually.”

“Wha-?”

“Ssshhh. Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you, huh?”

You stop protesting and you nod weakly, as Marc holds his hands more firmly around yours.

Then, in a flash, Khonshu’s suit begins to wind around him, bandages curling and snaking around his thick, sturdy frame. His eyes glowing white like the celestial glisten of the moon.

Next though, as he holds you, you watch in silent awe as the bandages unwind from his forearms. As they wrap around you, snaking gently up and around your arms. It kinda tickles.

Ah. Suddenly it makes sense to you.

The healing suit.

You shake your head softly, and you try to release your grip on Marc’s hands, suddenly full of worry. Won’t he get in trouble with the bird for a stunt like this? For sharing his power; with you of all people?

“B-but Marc. This isn’t an emergency,” you rationalise. “I’m fine. It’ll just take me a little longer to heal, all on my own.”

Marc looks at you softly. Intently. “Shortcake. You not feeling well? Trust me. That’s an emergency to me.” He strokes his loosely bound thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. “I can do this for you. Please. Would you let me do this?”

Damn.

Who are you to say no to those shining, puppy dog eyes? To Marc’s pure, unfettered devotion?

Except….

“But your wounds, Marc! You need the suit more than I do.” You survey his collection of grazes from his latest bout with a foe.

He looks at you though, slow and steady still, and all your reservations melt away. You see it in his face. He’s hurting; sure. But more so because you are hurting, and you think this can heal him too.

“I’m fine,” he repeats with a lazy uptick at the corner of his mouth. “Just scratches. It’ll just take a little longer to heal. All on my own.”

He has you beat there. You both want the best for each other. Would do anything to take away one another’s pain. It’s all you want.

You clasp his hands tightly in yours, heart overcome with love, and you softly concede, the bandages wrapping more steadily up you arms with your permission granted, until you and he are intertwined - in more ways than one. “Okay, Marc. Get me all better - and then I’ll take care of you, alright?”

He smiles. Shifts on the bed until his warm frame is spooning you, all safe, bandages loosening and tightening to accommodate your shifts. He kisses the back of your neck. Whispers warmly into your skin. “Got yourself a deal, Shortcake.”

You hum softly with relief. You’re not sure whether it’s the bandages, or just Marc; but you sure as hell feel better already.

#Marc Spector x reader #moon knight x reader #might delete later

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kieranxvalentine · 5 months

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Trouble. [Yandere! Player! OC x Reader]

༻♡༺✎ You knew he was trouble, but he wanted you. ༻♡༺✎ Yandere! Player! Oc x Reader ༻♡༺✎ 17+ (Kidnapping alluded to at the end, blackmailing) ༻♡༺✎ 0.7k words ༻♡༺✎ Authors note: Please request fics guys! Also I may be opening a kofi where more longer fics about these characters will be posted! (This has not been proofread!)

“Oh my god he’s finally back!!”

“Look at how cute he is~!”

Franklin rolled his eyes in irritation as he walked through the school, he was just coming back after a vacation with parents, and now that he was back. He was looking for a particular person.

His Princess.

Franklin had dark green hair with unnatural purple contacts that he wore and simply refused to take out (especially after his princess had complimented him on them).

He had soft tan skin, his right eye was bandaged, covering a scar he’d gotten when he was younger. Freckled cheeks with dimples that showed when he smirked or smiled that always made the girls swoon.

He wore a white/blue collared shirt with dark blue pants and blac heels boots {That he truly didn’t need! He was 6’1, he just liked being taller}

He ignored most of his fangirls, pushing past them as he made his way to the (h/c) girl who made his world.

Those innocent (e/c) eyes looking up at him whenever he talked. The way your skin glows in the morning light when he would watch you walk to school. The way how you would try to avoid eye contact, making him have to move just so he could look at your pretty face fully.

Franklin Whetsone, or Frankie as everyone else called him was a player, He was a player. He was known around the academy as a heart breaker. Girls around the academy wanted so desperately to be with him, and he would humor them for a bit before moving on to the next.

He was known to date multiple girls at once, having them over to the apartment that he had. Girls would constantly fight over him. Saying that he belonged to them!

Oh how stupid they were..

Normally, Franklin wouldn’t allow himself to be tied to one girl for too long. He hopped around from girl to girl not allowing himself to become attached to the girl he is in pursuit of.

That was…

Until you decided to come along.

You were the girl he just couldn't get. You would reject him each time he would come up to you. You were that forbidden fruit that he wanted so badly to get a taste of. It would cause Franklin to stay up late at night, dreaming of the day that he would finally have you in his arms. Not one of those other annoying bitches.

Franklin was obsessed with you in a way. Girls usually would fall for his charms and he would simply talk them into his bed. But You? You would always reject his advances with the same phrases with that sweet voice of yours.

“S-sorry, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship..”

Or “A-aren’t you seeing someone?..”

WHY COULDN’T YOU SEE HE WANTED YOU!? All those other girls he was with didn’t mean a damn thing to him, they were just to pass the time until you would finally give in.

But he was tired of waiting.

Franklin approached you with a smirk on his face, just like he would always do. Leaning down to face you, just inches away from those plump lips he loved so damn much.

“Babycakes~ Just who I was hoping to see~! I surely missed you,” He says noticing the blush on your face and how desperately you tried to avoid eyecontact. Oh no no, he loved eyecontact, he craved it…especially with you. He forced your chin so you could face him, and have no choice but to lock those pretty (e/c) jewels with his.

“Let’s move to the rooftop. I have something i need to discuss with you. And ONLY you.”

You didn’t even fight him. You allowed him to guide you up to the roof. He smirks as he brings you upstairs. When he got you upstairs, he wrapped his arms around your body and hugged you tightly.

“My princess…my baby…you don’t know how much i’ve missed you.”

“You-”

“Shh. Shut up right now. I want you to listen how my heart beats for you…”

He doesn’t care how uncomfortable it makes you. He holds you against him, little do you know he already had plans made.

He’s going to ask you to be his. And if you would refuse?

He would threaten your education, after all, his grandfather is the dean, and has gotten rid of a few problems for him previously. He chuckles internally at the thought.

You were stuck with him~! He wasn’t ever going to let you go. Franklin doesn’t care how many girls he’s flirted with in the past that try to throw themselves at him. He would ignore them all because he finally has his baby in his arms~!

“Hmm? Maybe you should just quit school all together! I’ll take care of you? You would like that right? You always complain about how school is so cruel to you baby…”

“Don’t worry…your frankie is gonna take care of you..”

©kieranxvaletine 2023 <3 Hope you all enjoyed!

#oc x reader #writing community #original character x reader #original character #writing #writing tag #fanfiction #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #male yandere

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raineandsky · 6 months

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The Villain's Housekeeper

#73.2 (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

“It’s looking a little dusty on the mantelpiece,” the villain comments brightly from the comfort of the sofa.

The hero huffs in annoyance but ambles over to the fireplace anyway, waving a feather duster over the surface.

It’s been a week since the villain found the hero hiding out in their pantry—and not to worry, the villain made them clean up all the blood in the kitchen once the police were lost to the city. “It’s my blood,” the hero had pointed out in a desperate attempt to stir sympathy. “I’m hurt.”

“Gross,” the villain had replied with exactly zero sympathy stirred. “Be a darling and disinfect it before I get hero cooties.”

The hero has also been unfortunate enough to discover exactly what the villain expects of a so-called maid. The villain’s getting a wonderful view of those world-famous heroic legs from here, the dainty maid’s dress riding up dangerously as the hero reaches up for the mantlepiece.

They’re also getting a fascinating look at the haphazard bandage on the hero’s arm, deep crimson soaking through the pristine white.

“[Superhero] already got his hands on you before you appeared in my kitchen?” they ask nonchalantly, and the dusting pauses momentarily.

“A bit,” the hero says unhelpfully. The superhero got them a bit? “I got away before he did any real damage, thankfully.”

“What’d you do then?”

The dusting starts again, though it seems more like an idle animation—thoughtless. Not really doing anything. “Something bad.” Also unhelpful. “I– I shared things with people I shouldn’t have.”

“Ooh, how juicy.” The villain chuckles, adjusting themself on the sofa to look at the windowsill behind them. “There’s dust on my vase, by the way.”

The hero glides across the room like some domestic ghost, all worried frowns and mindless motions. They pick the vase up and carefully brush over it with their duster.

The hero hasn’t really felt like sharing much, no matter how much the villain presses for some gossip. It’s only a matter of time before the villain inevitably dangles the hero’s stay here over them in a bid for information.

“Make me a coffee, would you?” The villain’s voice isn’t demanding, but the lack of pleasantries still makes the hero frown in annoyance. Would it kill them to say please?

They do it though, because they have to, in the way the villain’s demanded they do. Almost black, a sugar and the tiniest bit of milk. They’re not sure what the literal thimble of milk adds besides making it a quarter of a shade lighter, but they’ve never brought it up.

“It’s 11pm,” they comment when they appear in the villain’s bedroom doorway. They’re in the midst of preening in the mirror, smoothing over their coat.

“And I have a busy night ahead of me.” They take the cup from the hero with the faintest of smiles. “I’ll be out until early morning. Hold down the fort, and remember what I said.”

The hero can’t help but scowl. “Obviously.”

“What did I say, [Hero]?”

“No snooping.”

The villain positively beams. “Very good,” is all they give that as they turn for the door, forcing the hero to sidestep for them. “I don’t have much for you to do whilst I’m gone. Arrange the bookshelf, maybe? I don’t know.” They pause on the top stair. “Remember to get eight hours of sleep though, darling. You can’t work well when you’re tired.”

The hero nods shortly and then the villain’s on their way, traipsing down the stairs and casually slamming the front door.

Finally.

The hero darts back to the villain’s bedroom, taking some clothes from their wardrobe and shoving them on—they deserve to give back a little for how they’ve been treating the hero recently. Then it’s to the villain’s office.

It’s hard to take in the sheer amount of information at their fingertips from the doorway. There’s a lot of fuel in here—for the agency and the villains alike. It's a goldmine.

The hero hauls the nearest drawer open and starts rummaging, their ear trained on the door downstairs. There’ll be something in here they can hold over the villain. They know it.

(Next part)

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #the villains housekeeper #its been a while since i had anything more than a oneshot huh #bada BOOM bada BING we got a two parter incomin lads #maybe even.............. a three parter.......... if yall wanted.........

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unmotivatedwrit3r · 10 months

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One in Eleven Million (ch. 2)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): so uh it's been more than a week...my apologies. But I hope you all enjoy! Ch. 1 is linked here.

wc: ~1300

warnings: planes, mild cursing

You made it to the Ks before the loudspeaker crackled again.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot once again. It’s looking like we will require more time than expected to resolve the maintenance issue. There will be a further 50 minute delay. Passengers are welcome to step off the plane and return if desired. Thank you again for your patience.”

Around you, whispers and rustling picked up. Flight attendants repeated the pilot’s message and you sighed, slumping back against your seat.

When you looked down at your phone screen it was black. Tapping it gave you the time: already 45 minutes past the already delayed departure time. The sky was dark when you looked out the windows now. Beside you, Jon and Damian conversed quietly and you made an effort to not eavesdrop. Whatever they decided, you needed to focus more on deciding whether or not you wanted to get off the plane.

“Do you need me to let you guys out?” You asked them. You directed the comment to Jon, but technically you were speaking towards both of them. Damian’s book had been closed, resting on an open tray table. He was instead typing rapidly on his phone. Jon turned from where he was watching his friend.

“Not worth it,” Damian muttered, pulling on a jacket. You caught a glimpse of a white bandage on his bicep surrounded by a deep bruise before it disappeared underneath.

Jon shrugged. “I don’t really like airports any more than I like airplanes so I don’t really care. Are you leaving?”

You shook your head.

“Not sure it’s worth it. I don’t want to have to remember to come back for whatever obscure time they give us or be stuck if the time changes.”

“So we’re all staying then?” Jon asked. You nodded. He pulled his phone back out, opening the app again. “Movie?”

You smiled. A flutter of excitement bloomed in your chest.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

By the time you were at the Ts, you’d switched to using Jon’s phone to search the database and yours to write down titles that piqued your interest. Outside, the steady beeping sound that had been your background noise for the last indeterminate amount of time was joined by a drilling noise. You forcibly untensed your shoulders. It was unpleasant but tolerable. Next to you, though, Jon’s face was screwed up in discomfort.

“Jon? You okay?” Jon looked up from his lap, face pinched tightly.

“Yeah it’s just loud.” On Jon’s other side, Damian retrieved something from his bag and handed it to Jon. Earbuds, you realized as he put them in. The tension in Jon’s face lessened.

“Thanks,” he told Damian. “I thought I’d forgotten those. I didn’t think I’d need them.”

One side of Damian’s lips quirked up.

“You did forget them. But I assumed you’d want them eventually.”

“Yeah I didn’t exactly plan for—you know.”

“No one plans for multiple hour delays,” you added sympathetically.

Jon looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened.

“Oh, planes, yeah.”

Behind him, Damian let out an amused huff and re-opened his book. You just laughed, turning back to the movies.

“Up for the rest?”

Jon unlocked his phone.

“If we agree that The Last Jedi does not belong on the list, then yes.” You met his teasing grin with one of your own.

“Oh we do. But I’m still not putting Titanic on it.”

Jon sighed dramatically.

“Fine. At least you have a decent taste in Star Wars movies.”

You still hadn’t made it to the end of the movies list—the conversation had morphed into a debate over the best Clone Wars episodes—by the time the loudspeaker rang again.

“Okay, that’s true,” Jon conceded. “But the lost episodes rewrite a lot of–”

You checked your phone for the time as soon as the pilot’s voice—familiar now, unfortunately—clicked on. Despite the promised 50 minute wait time, it had been over an hour since the last announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we will not be able to take off tonight. We won’t have the part needed to replace the one in this plane for a few hours, so we’ll get you folks out of here once we can taxi back to a gate. Check your emails for your complimentary hotel stay and your boarding passes for updated flight times. We apologize again for the inconvenience.”

For a moment, the plane was silent. Then it was anything but. People stood quickly, pulling carry-on suitcases from the overhead containers. For a moment, you had to process the announcement. And then it hit you.

“Wait I have no clothes with me, are you fucking kidding?” You realized. You might as well have been talking to thin air for all the answers you got. At least your daily medication was in your bag.

Your phone, long off of airplane mode, stayed stubbornly email free. Beside you, a couple you guessed was a little older than you was conversing about their own hotel reservation, already sent to their phones.

Jon leaned to his left, watching as Damian read through what you assumed was his own hotel email.

“Does it say what time we need to be back?” You asked, refreshing your boarding pass. The departure time changed once more, this time to 3:46am. You sighed. Great. “Never mind. I guess we need to be back by 3:20. Except—wait if we leave we need to go through security again. So 2:30 I guess.”

“There must be a nicer hotel closer to us that we can get a room for,” Damian said. Beside him, Jon shrugged.

“I don’t know much about hotels. Is there a company hotel around?”

“No. But a hotel of the quality they’re sending us to should barely be considered quality at all.”

Your phone finally binged with an email notification. A google search revealed your hotel to be 30 minutes away and pretty mediocre. The email also gave information about shuttles to get passengers to and from the hotels. You skimmed it quickly. The shuttle that would get you back to the airport by 2:30 left at 1:30 am.

“Six hundred for tonight isn’t bad at all,” Damian continued behind you.

“Six hundred dollars for half a night in a hotel?” you blurted without thinking, incredulous. “Why would you do that?”

Damian looked at you, eyes sharp in the dim light of the cabin.

“I mean, there’s no way you get quality sleep tonight either way,” you defended, “so why not take the crappy provided room with transportation? We have to be back in like five hours anyway.”

You could see Damian weighing your words even as you regretted them. Who were you to tell them what to do? You liked Jon. You did not know Damian.

“The terrible hotel is more efficient, you’re right,” Damian said with a sigh. “There’s little difference to me in the actual beds. I’ve slept on worse.”

You sighed a silent sigh of relief. Beside you, the line of departing passengers finally started moving.

Jon leaned over Damian’s phone and opened the email up again.

“It says we’re at the Bluiett.” He looked up. “Where are you?”

You rescanned your email. Your lips quirked up as you scanned through the provided information.

“Me too.”

Jon leaned back in his chair.

“Oh thank god. Neither of us know how to get out of here. And I’ve never taken a shuttle before.”

You laughed, tugging your coat on and pulling your bag onto your lap. The line shifted forwards again and you stepped out of your seat, slinging one strap over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t call myself a frequent flier but I do know enough for that. Follow me.”

“Tt,” you heard Damian mutter behind you. “We could easily figure it out.”

Jon chuckled as he stepped out behind you, pulling a red carry-on from the overhead storage. Your smile widened.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #jonathan kent imagine #jon kent imagine #jonathan kent #emerson writes sometimes

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Note

Hi it would be awesome if u did the angs print list #11 with Cassian x reader

Feeling ANGSTY 👁️👄👁️

Warnings: angst, some injury detail.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The place was utter chaos. The air tinged with the stench of blood, of rain, of mud. Screams of pain reaching out to you from the healers tents, cries of grief over those who didn’t survive. People zipped around you, rushing back and forth with buckets of water and blankets and medical supplies.

There was always a numbness that set in after battle. An emptiness. Though you may not join your friends and family on the battlefield, being a healer kept you up close and personal with injuries and casualties. There was no escaping the gruesome realities of war — not when you spent hour after hour depleting your magic on stitching skin back together and setting broken bones, healing fatal blows by the very skin of your teeth.

You were exhausted by the time you left your tent, another healer having taken over and insisting that you rest. You immediately began to drag your heavy feet through the muddy track that wended through the lines and lines of tents, intending to return to the one you shared with your mate, Cassian. You were desperate for a bath, to submerge yourself in too-hot water that would make you feel something and wash the grot and grime and blood from your skin.

“Y/N.” A grave voice came from behind you, a firm hand landing on your shoulder and stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to find Azriel, and a pinch of relief spread through you at the sight of him. You’d received word that all of your friends had come back from the battlefield, but you could never quite settle until you’d seen them all. Apart from some nicks and slices that were already healing, Azriel seemed otherwise unharmed.

But the set of his jaw was…wrong. Tense. The fierce look in his eyes telling you that something was amiss.

Cassian. Your mate’s name immediately bleated in your head.

“What is it?” You breathed, your stomach churning. Panicked thoughts began to claw at you. “What happened?”

“It’s Cassian.” A muscle in Az’s jaw ticked. “He got badly injured.”

You were going to be sick. Or collapse. Black out. Something. He couldn’t be dead — you knew he couldn’t be dead, because you would feel it. Would just know. But why hadn’t you sensed him being injured?

“Breathe, Y/N.” Azriel gently clasped your arm. The composure you applied to healing people was completely lost when it came to your mate. “He’s okay. Madja healed him, he’s going to be fine. He’s asleep right now, but…he’ll be waking soon. I’m sure you’ll want to be there.”

You were trying so hard to fight back tears. You’d barely had a year with your mate. The thought of losing him—

“Take me to him, Az.” You rasped. “Please.”

Azriel took your hand, easily manoeuvring you around the chaos that continued around you, that you no longer noticed. It felt like eons passed before you were being led to the main war tent where the Inner Circle discussed their information and strategy. Rhys was just stepping out of the entrance as you skidded to a stop.

“There you are.” The High Lord breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N — I gave him a direct order to wait and he ignored it. His damn insides were hanging out. I’m so angry with him. If not for Madja already being here—”

“Can I just see him?” You bit back a sob. “Please?”

He dipped his chin, holding the tent flap aside for you. As you stepped in, the strong, clinical smell of tonics and salves burned your nose.

Your eyes immediately found your mate. Sprawled out on a settee, he was undressed, aside from a pair of undershorts that were stained with his blood. A huge white bandage was wrapped around his torso, and even in sleep, his face seemed to twitch in pain with every breath.

He looked…a mess. Awful. And it sliced you open. Made you feel like your heart was being tightly squeezed.

His sweat-slick hair was sticking to his mud-speckled face. You took a step towards him, stopping and angling yourself back towards Rhys and Az.

“Can I have some time with him?” You wiped you eyes quickly. “Please?”

Rhys nodded, and the two of them shot you a concerned glance before turning on their feet and trudging away. Where the others were, you didn’t know. But right now…right now, Cassian was your focus.

You perched on the coffee table in front of him and waited for him to wake.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

It wasn’t long after that you heard a soft groan.

Your eyes, that had been staring into space, snapped down to Cassian. And it was only then that you became aware of the tears that had been silently falling down your cheeks.

You wiped them away, and watched as your mate’s eyes slowly opened. As he winced, his face contorting in pain, and tried to push himself up.

“Careful.” You murmured, reaching out to steady him. Your hands stayed on him as he moved himself into a sitting position, and then you were stepping back once more.

Cassian stared up at you. And smiled.

Albeit a grim smile — one marred by discomfort and looking wrong beneath the smattering of blood and dirt. But he smiled.

And maybe it shouldn’t have done, but…it boiled your blood.

“There’s my little love.” He croaked, reaching a hand towards you. “Such a sight for sore eyes.”

You immediately stepped out of reach, folding your arms over your chest. “You’re injured, Cassian.”

He glanced down at the bandage with infuriating indifference. “Injured, not infectious.” He reached for you again, wincing as he did so. “Come sit with me.”

So many emotions were rooting you to the spot, stopping you from going to him. Sheer panic and fear and worry and hurt and anger. Pure, blinding anger.

All you could do was stare at him.

He stared back, his features slowly creasing into a frown. He looked you up and down — your apron spattered with blood and grime. Your face and hands not much better. The wisps of hair that had long ripped from your braid.

“…you’re not injured, are you?” He started, trying to ease himself up. “Let me see.”

“No, I’m not injured.” You snapped. “I’m fucking furious, Cassian.”

“What—”

“Why did you go against Rhys’s order? Why would you do that?”

Your mate blinked at you, and it seemed only then that he became truly aware of your fury. Your hurt. He eased himself up from the settee, using the arm to steady himself. “Y/N—”

“Why, Cassian?”

“…the decision I made was the more logical one—”

“Oh, yeah — so logical to get your fucking intestines ripped out of you. Great job, my mate.”

He’d never seen you this angry. Even though you’d chastised him a couple of times before about certain reckless decisions, it had never been like this. Tears were stinging your eyes again.

Cassian caught it immediately, his features softening. “Sweetheart…”

“Don’t do that.” Your voice cracked. “Don’t act like this is nothing.”

“I’m not. I’m not. But you’re new to all of this. And injuries are a part of it…”

You scoffed. Yes, you were far younger than him. He had four hundred years on you and had seen battle multiple times. Clearly his wealth of experience didn’t stop him acting like a reckless fool.

“Funny, because you’re the only one of us who had his insides ripped out, Cassian, and you’re also the only one who went against Rhys’s orders!”

“I made the right choice!” His voice rose. “And I’d damn well make it again!”

“I know you would! And that scares me, Cass, because what about me?”

A sob choked your voice on the last word, your hurt and panic completely overtaking your anger. You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take the thought of anything happening to him—

You buried into your hands, your cries breaking out of you uncontrollably. And you knew Cassian was stunned into silence. That he’d gone preternaturally still.

“…Y/N…” He sighed softly. “Hey. Look at me. I’m fine.”

He limped over to you, his hands grasping your arms. But his touch didn’t stop the heaving sobs.

“You may have got off okay this time,” your whole body shook, “but what about the next time? Or the time after that?”

“I…” He frowned. “You just have to trust me. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t about trust!” You wrenched away from him. “I’m sick and tired of worrying about you and all the risks you take. You tell me you’ll be fine but what about me? Because if I lose you, I won’t be fine. Do you even realise that?”

“Y/N, you’re not going to lose me—”

“I’m pregnant, Cassian.”

Cassian’s mouth immediately snap shut, his eyes widening. And then his gaze was dipping down to your stomach, back up to your face.

“We can’t lose you.” You snivelled, placing a hand on your abdomen. “So please…all I ask is that you think of us before making risky decisions.”

“I…” He was still blinking. “You’re…”

“Pregnant.” You whispered. “Yeah.”

Only a beat passed before he was striding over to you — groaning as he did so — and pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and you knew it was causing him pain, but he held you so tightly. Rocked you. Kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

Slowly, you stroked your hand up his back. You could feel your sobs silently shaking your body, soaking his bare chest.

“I’ll never leave you.” Cass pulled back just slightly — just enough to place a hand over yours on your stomach. “Either of you.”

You stared up at him with glistening eyes, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

And then he was pulling you into his chest again, and the two of your were crying into each other’s skin, just your weak noises filling the tent, mixed up in Cassian’s repeated apologies. You didn’t know how long you stood like that for, but it was long enough for your anger to dissipate. For you to feel the pure relief and love that hit you with Cassian back in your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. “Forgive me.”

And you — you lifted your head. Looked up at him. A soft, watery smile played on your lips, and you pushed yourself up to press them against his, to speak a single word onto them.

“Forgiven.”

#ask #request #prompt list #acotar #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x reader #cassian #angst

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

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a/n: i’m normally an islanders girly, but i have a soft spot for svech, especially after the horrible news of his acl injury 🥺 honestly have no idea where this came from except i saw one of @ryanpulock ‘s anons mention taking care of svech after an injury, so here we go! entirely unedited because i hate rereading my own work lol

tw: smut, gratuitous and potentially wrong use of russian terms of endearment

summary: you want to take care of andrei a little after he gets a cut on his thigh.

The text from Jordan - “Don’t worry, he’s fine” - would be concerning on it’s own, but when it’s followed-up approximately ten minutes later with a text from Andrei - “Don’t worry, I am fine” - you’re heading quickly into a panicky state. Ignoring the fact that you’re out with friends, you open up Twitter and navigate to the Canes’ hashtag, scrolling anxiously until you spot the familiar last name.

A tweet from Cory Lavalette: Svechnikov is down and hurt.

Another one from Cory: Svechnikov did the splits while getting checked and was holding his left inner thigh.

Three minutes later: Further review, it looks like Kevin Hayes' skate caught Svechnikov in the thigh.

You feel like you might throw up. A cut from a skate blade is no joke. Depending on where on his thigh the blade caught him - you force yourself to stop that line of thinking and keep scrolling, breathing a sigh of relief when you see that Andrei was back on the ice a minute or so later. It’s solidly thirty minutes after the game’s ended (you didn’t realize it had gotten so late!), so he must be okay, if his and Jordan’s texts are the only ones about the whole thing. “Sorry, guys,” you sigh, gathering your jacket and purse, pushing away from the table. “I have to go. Just Venmo request me what I owe.”

Your best friend looks up, surprised, but then after she checks her phone, a sly grin stretches across her face and she teases, “going to get the benefits of those post-game endorphins?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you smirk, trying to hide your anxiety and worry about Andrei.

That gets the whole table jeering and heckling you, with your best friend laughing and proclaiming, “you’re sure as hell not a lady. Or do I need to bring out the keg stand video again?”

Waving her off with a snort of laughter and a vaguely rude gesture, you head for the door, blowing a kiss and slipping your arms into your jacket. The sounds of your friends’ voices follow you out of the restaurant, finally quieting once the door shuts behind you. You suck in a shaky breath, closing your eyes briefly. He’s fine - Jordan said so and Jordan wouldn’t lie about something like this. Even still, you’re nervous for the entire fifteen minute drive back to yours and Andrei’s apartment.

“Drei?” You call out his name when you push open the front door, kicking off your boots and dropping your house keys in the little bowl on the front hall table.

“In here,” his deep, accented voice echoes from the back of the apartment - your bedroom.

Shedding your jacket and draping it and your purse over the back of the couch - a bad habit that you’ve been trying to kick - you hurry down the hall towards him, needing to see him in one piece.

You freeze in the doorway when you finally lay eyes on him. He’s stretched out on the king-sized bed, shirtless and damp from his shower, clad only in a pair of tight black boxer-briefs. His legs are stretched out in front of him and he’s got one hand tucked behind his head, making his tricep bulge.

“Damn,” you mutter. It’s unfair how good-looking he is. And then your gaze lights on the thick white bandage wrapped around his left thigh, making the well-muscled bulk look even thicker. For some reason, the sight of the bandage makes his injury all the more real and tears prick at your eyes. “Andrei…” you whisper his name, hand pressing against your mouth to keep your emotions inside.

He shakes his head and smiles a little at you, a shadow of his dimple popping out on his cheek. “Ah, solnyshka, I’m fine. Just small scratch,” he says, voice warm and soaking over you like a blanket.

“But you got cut with a skate blade! A really sharp skate blade!” Your voice cracks a little. “It could’ve been really bad.”

Andrei gestures you forward with one hand and you obey instantly, not even thinking about it. His hand is warm on your wrist and he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your palm. Your knees tremble. “But it was not,” he mumbles against your palm. “A few stitches, a bandage, and I’m good as new.”

“Stitches?” Your eyebrows lift and you look down at the bandage as if you’ve developed x-ray vision in the last thirty seconds.

“Two, three maybe. It is nothing,” he tugs at your wrist again, the dimple deepening on his cheek. His eyes twinkle. “But I think maybe I’m going to need a nurse to bring me back to 100%.”

His voice is low and you look up at his face, taking in the slow smirk that’s forming. “Oh a nurse, huh?” you murmur, warmth flooding your stomach from the way he’s looking at you.

“Mhm,” he hums, a deep rumble in his chest. His thumb is tracing an arc over your wrist, liquid heat crawling through your veins. “Now that I think about it, maybe it does hurt a little,” his lower lip pokes out in a small pout.

“Poor baby,” you whisper, licking your lower lip. Your throat feels dry. “I’ll have to be very gentle…”

Andrei’s eyes are dark, the tips of his ears are growing pink, and you can see the bulge in his boxer-briefs practically growing by the second. “What if I am a bad patient?” He lifts one eyebrow. “Will you be gentle then?”

You giggle. “Now, Mister Svechnikov, I know you can behave,” you dart forward and ghost a kiss over his lips. “When you want to.”

He tries to pull you down onto the bed, but you dance away quickly. “Solnyshka,” he pouts, “I’m not supposed to move. You have to come to me.”

“Let me change,” you reply, already pulling your sweater over your head. “These clothes are dirty.” The sweater gets tossed onto the chair in the corner and you kick off your jeans, leaning one knee on the bed. Andrei’s hands reach for you, the right one close enough to rest on your hip. He slides warm fingers around the curve of your ass and tries to pull you closer.

“Please,” he says. His accent is thick, vibrating around your brain and melting your heart. You love his voice. “I will be a good patient, I promise.”

You crawl closer to him, both of his hands on your hips now. One thick finger brushes under the waistband of your panties, sending a shiver down your spine. “Well, if you promise….” you trail off, dipping your head to press a kiss to inside of his bicep. One of your hands rests on his knee, fingers brushing over warm skin. He twitches, a little ticklish at your light touch. You grin at him, dragging your fingertips up the inside of his good thigh. The hair on his leg raises with goosebumps and the bulge of his cock grows. “You relax,” you murmur, “let me do the work.”

With a groan, Andrei drops back against the pillows he had propped behind his back, watching you with blown pupils as you climb in between his legs. He widens the space, offering you room to work. You lean back on your thighs, resting your hands lightly on Andrei’s shins. “You’ve got to tell me if you start hurting or it’s uncomfortable, okay?” you say, massaging your fingers into his calves. “I don’t want you to get hurt even more.”

“Maylshka,” Andrei groans the term of endearment, his hand stroking at himself through the fabric of his boxer-briefs, “you’re hurting me more by taking so much time.”

A snort of laughter leaves your nose involuntarily and you scoot up the bed, scraping your nails over his legs. “So impatient,” you mutter affectionately, a weird twist in your stomach when your gaze lands on the bandage again. A reminder that he was hurt. That it could’ve been more serious. Swallowing heavily, you duck your head and press a kiss to the inside of his right knee, scraping teeth over skin as you move up his inner thigh, kissing and biting gently as you go.

Andrei shifts under you, the bed dipping and swaying as he adjusts. One of his large hands twist in your hair, tangling the strands between his fingers and tugging, just this side of painful. The other hand bumps against the top of your head as he wraps it around his growing cock, stroking himself firmly. The steady movement of his hand makes his body move, in turn making your own body jostle. You bite into the corded muscle of his inner thigh and Andrei hisses, hand jerking out of rhythm.

“I thought I was taking care of you?” you mumble against his heated skin, leaning back and angling so your shoulder doesn’t bump against his wrapped thigh. Your fingers curl in the waistband of his underwear, the fabric already stretched to its limits between Andrei’s hand and erection. “You can take care of yourself on the road.”

His voice is raspy when he replies, “just helping you along, malyshka. Don’t want you to get tired.” He groans when you slide your hand over his and squeeze.

“I’m wide awake, Drei,” you murmur, knocking his hand aside and replacing it with your own. He’s hot and hard in your hand, a familiar weight. Your thumb brushes over the red, weeping tip of him and his hips buck involuntarily. A slow smirk spreads across your lips. Before you can bend your head, Andrei uses the hand that’s still tangled in your hand to force your face up to his. He cups your chin in his free hand and slants his lips over yours in a hungry kiss. You return it in kind, leaning into him, enjoying the groan he lets loose into your mouth when your hand twists around his cock.

He pulls back from the kiss, dropping his head against the headboard with a thunk. “I want to flip you over on your back and make you come until you cry,” he mutters, stretching out his left leg a little.

You laugh and kiss the side of his neck, licking at a bead of water that’s dripped down from his hair. He shivers. “Give yourself a little time to heal and then you can have me any way you want,” you promise. “Just let me take care of you tonight.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, you slide down his body, pressing soft kisses to his chest as you go and flicking one flat nipple with your tongue, drawing a strained laugh from Andrei’s throat. He murmurs your name and you kiss his stomach, just under his belly button, “lift,” you command, hooking your fingers in the elastic waist of his underwear and tugging them down. His erection jumps free, curving up to his stomach, thick and red and waiting for you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him and you dart your tongue out and lick the tip of him delicately.

“Fuck!” he curses, hand tightening in your hair. You press down on his good thigh with your free hand to keep him in place, not that you have a chance in hell of holding Andrei down if he really wants to move. But your fingers curl against his skin and you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. The head of his cock bumps against the roof of your mouth and you shift on your knees to change the angle, taking him deeper. Andrei groans and moans above you, vocalizing his approval. He’s too big to take all of him in your mouth, so you wrap your hand around the remaining inches and squeeze, knowing he loves the pressure. His hand pushes your face down and your nose bumps his lower stomach. His hold on your head is loose though, and you could pull back if you wanted. You don’t want to.

Bracing yourself on his thigh, you lean forward, taking him deeper. Spit dribbles out of your mouth, making a mess of Andrei and the sheets below him. He bucks his hips, trying to restrain himself so he doesn’t hurt you, but when you him around him, flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock, he shouts and pushes further down your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You breathe sharply through your nose, trying to stave off a gag, and inhale Andrei’s familiar musk mixed with the lavender-citrus body wash you’d bought for yourself but had been sneakily stolen by your boyfriend. You press your thighs together, pressure to help the throbbing between your legs. Andrei moves, like he wants to reach down and touch you, but you squeak a little when your head gets trapped between his pelvis and his stomach.

“Sorry,” he rumbles, “sorry.” His free hand strokes at your cheeks, your forehead, the back of your neck, and you shiver. You him around him again, sucking hard. Andrei groans your name, barely resisting the urge to thrust into your mouth. You encourage him, squeezing his shaft.

He tenses under your touch and comes in your mouth with a shouted string of Russian curses. You swallow quickly, a little overwhelmed, and Andrei’s grip on your hair loosens. He looks down at you with glazed eyes as you release him with a wet pop. a string of saliva connects your lips and his softening cock and you swipe at it quickly. “You are….” he mumbles, chuckling, speechless.

“I know,” you grin at him, wiping at the corners of your mouth. You wiggle up the mattress, rest your wrists on his shoulders, and kiss him sweetly. Andrei’s hands are heavy on your hips, sliding down the curve of your ass.

He yawns a little, blushing and mumbling an apology. “It’s not you,” he rushes to say and you giggle, kissing his cheek.

“You’ve had a long day, baby,” you reply, sliding out from between his legs and climbing off the bed. “Get comfy, I’m going to shower really quick and rinse the day off.”

Andrei catches your hand as you turn for the bathroom, a pout on his lips and a furrow between his brows. “But I didn’t get to have my way way you,” he whines.

“Tomorrow, big boy,” you promise, ignoring the throbbing between your legs. “I wanted to take care of you tonight.” You slip from his grip and dance off to the bathroom, loving that he wants to make sure you’re satisfied too. You take the world’s shortest shower, soaping up and shampooing in record time. You skip conditioner, willing to pay the price of slightly dry hair in order to cuddle with Andrei sooner.

By the time you pad back into the bedroom, clad in one of Andrei’s old shirts, he’s flat on his back, eye shut, and snoring softly. You smile softly at him, heart filling with even more love for your boyfriend. He looks even younger when he’s sleeping. Carefully, you climb into bed and tuck yourself against Andrei’s right side. His mouth hangs open a bit and his left arm is thrown over his forehead. As soon as you touch his side, he stirs a little, blinking and scrunching his face. “Mmm,” he hums, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you close. You go easily, draping your arm over his stomach and resting your head on his chest.

“Night, Drei,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his skin.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he mumbles, breathing evening out again.

When you wake up in the morning, Andrei’s head is pillowed on your chest and he has both arms wrapped around you, holding you like a teddy bear. You blink sleepily and rest your cheek against the top of his head. Your legs are tangled with his, the bandage brushing against your thigh. You comb your fingers through Andrei’s hair gently, easing him awake.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” you giggle as he blinks awake.

“Ditto,” Andrei says, voice hoarse with sleep. He buries his face into your chest. “Stay in bed.”

“I wish, but someone has to work so we can afford this life we’ve become accustomed to,” you joke, laughing even harder when Andrei’s fingers dig into your side, tickling you now that he’s wide awake.

This is absolutely your favorite way to wake up.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov imagine #carolina hurricanes

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ddostoyevskyy · 10 months

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LOVING THE MOON

ALTERNATIVE TITLE: WHEN THE NIGHT APPEARS

Dazai Osamu

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... f!reader, suicide ideation, PM!reader, PM!Dazai, major character death, written in 1st person's point of view (use of I and me), romanticization of suicide, sensitive topics, reader is described long haired for plot purposes.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... I feel worse, so I have to write it off. A short drabble. I'm sorry if this is nowhere near Dazai's character, I just need to get this out of my system before I kms. Don’t hesitate to request, my request box is always open:)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 2.124k

MASTERLIST.

There is a boy I have watched from afar. A boy with brown, curly hair and dark eyes. I watched him through the shadows where I'm certain he can never see me through those bandages wrapped around his head, covering one of his vision. He's ruthless with his subordinates; despite his slender figure yet broad shoulders that was draped by his dark coat and set of bandages covering his arms where his longsleeve, white button-up shows — he can throw a hell of a punch and kicks.

Mori Ougai, as I remembered my boss' name assigned me to watch over his youngest executive in the darkness where I am always out of reach; my ability were as black as my clothes and the dark circles around my eyes because of the sleepless nights with countless nightmares and horrors of screams are always haunting me to sleep. Mori Ougai told me to be aware as the boy I've been watching from afar became more fearless and formidable.

And, I always told to myself that someone as strong as him is not fitted for the Port Mafia. He can be something more. His strength and capability of surviving in the middle of fights and gunfires are admirable, that I know I cannot do life like him nor survive in such thing called life. I watched him through the darkness where it looks like he is the light; the form of strength and beauty at the same time despite clouding with grey clouds that never rains.

I have heard of his ability and I think he can help me tame those beasts in my nightmares.

But, I think he could only murder me in my sleep if I dare to.

He looks so out of reach despite being near in sight.

Moon.

That's what he reminds me of.

My whole world stayed still, heart pacing in such waves of emotions when one day, his dark eyes averted to the darkness where I've always been for the past four years since he and I were fifteen. My breath caught on my throat, but I held back my voice. His brown eyes held little to no emotion, but I could see a hint of confusion and amusement.

He saw me.

For the first time in my life, someone saw me despite hidden in the dark —hidden in the depths of my ability.

My silent gasp surely had reach his ears by the way he’s now intently looking at me without blinking, a slight smirk mused on his lips. “What do we have here? Are you real? I’m not hallucinating that there’s a pretty woman staring back at me, am I?”

The men in black glances at him with furrowed eyebrows as they averted their gazes to where the dark haired man staring at. That’s impossible, did he really saw me? Or maybe he’s really just hallucinating the way he called me... pretty. Nevertheless, I bit back my voice and stayed silent in the darkness of my ability, but his dark eyes never left me the whole time process of their assigned mission.

“Dazai?” A man’s voice appeared, Oda Sakunosuke, a Port Mafia member who never shot any bullet from his gun, a man with morals. His hair is dark maroon while his eyes are in a shade of sky blue with a stubble face. “Where are you looking at?”

He pointed in my direction as I stayed quiet. “Do we have a new Port Mafia member?”

Oda’s eyebrow furrowed, “None that I know. Why?”

“Is there any ability user who use shadows?”

“There’s one, I think the boss has been keeping and another high ranked like you, but I don’t really know any details. I was told this upper rank is only active at night.” Oda answered as he stared where Dazai has been looking too and I internally screamed. Did that man noticed me too? I’ve been hiding and watching him for four years, and now, he have taken notice of my presence.

“Do you see her? There,” Dazai pointed on my direction again as I shifted on my position, the darkness following me whenever I move, whenever I go and even in my sleep as they appear in my dreams. “She’s moving away, Odasaku! Let’s catch her.”

Shit! I hissed under my breath. Mori Ougai told me that if this man ever notice my presence, I should never face him.

But just like the moonlight shining through the darkness of the night, I can’t escape its light even if I hide through its own darkness; through its own shadows.

My breath were caught when a surprisingly warm hand despite his cold demeanor had caught my wrist as I abruptly stopped when a green dust of light appeared before my eyes and all those darkness I’ve been hiding from disappeared, the coldness I’ve felt for almost my whole life momentarily fading.

“See, I told you, Odasaku! I’m not hallucinating!” He said, enthusiastically and I frowned, a shaky sigh escapes my lips as I kept my head lowered while his fingers wrapped around my wrist in a firm grip. It was so warm as though soaked in a summer sun with an evident of rough fingertips that sent tingling jolts on my spine. Warm, that is only the thing on my mind.

Why don’t night can’t feel like this? Like the touch of his hand; like the sudden momentarily sparks of euphoria in my system. Night always feels cold and scary and I can’t enjoy the dose of the daylight because I’m always hiding in the dark. It burns in my skin as if my flesh is on flame as he tugged me near the sunlight as I hissed.

My eyes averted to the man with maroon hair as he stared back at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“(Name)?” My name escapes his lips and I pursed mine.

“You know her? (Name)?”

“I thought you were dead, (Name).” Dazai momentarily let go of my wrist, yet I felt him tug on the hem of my dark coat’s sleeve as Oda stepped closer to me. I have known him, Oda Sakunosuke. He’s also the reason why I am not eaten properly by my own ability and now he had found me once again.

“I thought so too... Sakunosuke.” My voice came off as whisper.

“You look worse than the last time I saw you,” He retorted and my lips formed in a small pout. He didn’t have to tell me the obvious, but I feel warmer than I expected as he put a hand on top of my head before softly patting. “But I’m glad, you’re alright.”

My lips softly parted as I breathed. He sounds like a father scolding his daughter now, and I don’t blame him for that.

I was too drawn to the moon that I never realized I finally liking the night.

Oda managed to pull me out of the darkness again with the help of him; the man who made me love the moon again. I can’t help but to appreciate such short time Dazai Osamu and I known each other — even though, I’ve known him for years, there’s nothing to compare to when he’s already been aware of my presence even in darkness. I viewed him as the moon — shining so bright in the dark, despite his dark eyes. Or maybe I’m just too lonely that I seek his warmth that he made me feel in just a touch of a hand.

I am addicted to the moon and its scent.

The sparkles of the moon in the dark sky is something I never adored. But this moment when Dazai and I coincidentally met on the rooftop of the Port Mafia’s headquarters. His scent alcohol mixed with cigarettes, both sending tingling sensation on my sense of smell.

“The boss told me I could find you here,” He leaned on the railings with both of his arms folded as I am seated at the edge of railings. “Penny for thoughts of a pretty lady?”

A random thought came across in my mind as I glance at him, his dark eyes already looking at me. Despite its hollow and emptiness, it sparkles under the bright full moon and it made my heart flutter as my gaze softened, my lips parting slowly as I licked my lips before I raise my arm, letting go one of my will to live as my other hand gripping the railings.

I finally caressed the moon.

My hand planted on his dark hair that was surprisingly soft in my fingertips. I could feel him halt on my touch as I grab a few strands of his hair covering his face.

“I want to cut my hair this short and I want to buy a pretty white dress, so I will look beautiful when I die.”

The moon is also looking back at me.

He turned completely silent as he stared at me, examining my face as his gaze hovers on my lips before his brown eyes came back to mine. He let me caress his hair as I brush it away from his handsome face.

“You’re drown to death too?” He muttered, voice basking with the wind as though caressing me in such a gentle manner — but there’s no gentle in his manners, nor mercy with his beauty caressed by the moon.

“Maybe,” I answered with honestly. “My life has been slipping away eversince Mister Mori asked me to watch over you. I have been stucked in my ability which conquers me to the darkness for all my life.”

The moon smiles at me.

Although, not a heartwarming smile, he gave me a smile that made my heart shivered.

“How do I look?” He grinned and my heart can’t do it anymore.

I called the moon pretty.

“Pretty.” I mindlessly said as his grin fade a little, his reaction really caught off guard but his smile came back again as he shook his head.

“Someone had called me bastard and stupid, but I never thought I will encounter someone who’ll call me something unexpected.” He marveled at the way my face flushed in shade of embarrassment as I pull my hand away from caressing his hair.

“(Name), if I give you a reason to live, will you take it and live with me?”

The moon gave me a reason to live.

My eyes darted on him, almost a glare with furrowed eyebrows as he anticipated my answer, but I fell silent like my sleepless night without my horrors of screams as though my nightmares are already calm, the waves of my emotions are already tamed; that I am no longer in the dark. He grabbed my wrist like he did when he had nullified my ability of darkness — tonight, he grabbed my wrist to pull me away from death.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The only thing I could muster to say to the moon as it stared back at me with those dark eyes that held emotion I didn’t understand at first. But, when I realized it after he left — after a friend had died, I hid with the darkness again where I belonged before he pulled me into the light of his own darkness.

The moon brought light to me as it also push me to the pit of darkness again, darkness I called warmth as he gazed at me.

He made me love the moon; the moon that he is — illuminating and dominating against those multiple stars that I never noticed until my heart chose to. If that what makes him the moon, I can be the stars — shining in the dark sky and blinded in the moonlight. Both planets and orbits lined up in the universe and in the middle of it, there’s the moon that gave me the reason to live. I realized how much of an impact he emotionally gave me unconsciously.

The day he left, the day I appreciated the full moon; the moon that resembles Dazai Osamu — the mysterious man who made me leave the dark I am used to. And, the day he left, he brought my heart with him.

My moon.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

#bsd fics #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #[❤️; niko’s oneshots]#bsd dazai #bsd dark era #pm dazai #dark era dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #dazai fluff #dazai imagines #dazai angst

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