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madwomansapologist · 4 months

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blossoming alone over you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.

Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.

The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.

And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.

But not you.

At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.

You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.

But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.

You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.

To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.

Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.

"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."

"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."

Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."

"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"

"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.

Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.

After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?

You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.

You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.

When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.

One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.

And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.

Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.

You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.

And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.

But you had to show him how wrong he was.

At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.

"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.

Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.

It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.

Maybe one day he can become a poet.

"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"

Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.

Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.

"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."

It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.

Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?

"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.

You barely heard his words.

"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."

His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.

As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.

What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.

You gave him something priceless.

And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.

"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"

You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."

As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.

"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."

You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."

Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.

Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.

Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.

You're kind.

It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.

She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.

But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.

She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.

Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.

You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.

You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.

If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.

Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?

She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.

You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.

She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.

The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.

Into you.

"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."

She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."

"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.

You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.

Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.

She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."

You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"

Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.

"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."

"I thought it could be useful!"

Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."

You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.

Part 2!

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kaidabakugou · 1 year

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PAIRING: FOREST GOD VIDAR! BAKUGOU X ELF! READER

WORD COUNT: 7.4K

A/N: proud to finally be able to share with you guys my submission for Touch of Divine Rush Collab by @dark-mnjiro, i love Norse Mythology and had lots of fun writing this one so i hope you enjoy my little knowledge dump plus my interpretation of what Vidar’s journey would look like after Ragnarök

i also made a GLOSSARY to help you understand some of the terms and old Nordic language used without the need of researching it yourselves, please enjoy and tysm for reading!

The air felt thick as ash rained down upon the battle grounds, the remnants of the wrath from the towering flames of the fire giant evident all around as the silent god took in his surroundings. His foot still perched atop Fenrir’s fiery jaw as he looked down at the mangled wolf, a sharp pain making itself known on his palm when adrenaline started to subside from his body. Noticing one of Fenrir’s fangs pierced into his right hand where he held the beast’s jaw open seizing it before bracing his lower foot, adorned with his magical leather shoe, against its lower jaw and tearing it apart as the prophecy intended. Successfully avenging his father, Odin, after his journey ended being devoured by the foul monster.

Bakugou could barely see a few feet around him, the sky burned black as the flames reached all the way up to the stars, consuming them as not even the cosmos could evade their fate of being swallowed by the sea. Ragnarök, the final battle, had finally progressed to its final phase. And as the world burns in flames, Bakugou couldn't help but to inhale the stinging smoke around him, feeling it stain his lungs as he closed his eyes towards the black sky.

Clearing his head from the chaos that surrounds him, beginning to feel the icy touch of Helheim against his scorching skin as he calls upon the forces of nature whom he trusted the most to guide him through this new journey.

Silence.

A small smile adorned the god’s features as he accepted his fate, although destined to survive the destruction, he found it hard to believe in prophecies when the rumbling of the ocean’s hunger was making the ground beneath his feet tremble as it started to sink into the depths of the unknown. But the silence in his ears reassured him that he will once again rule over a regenerated earth.

Silence had been Bakugou’s strongest companion, known as the silent god for he desired nothing more than to be left alone to rule the forests who were bound by close ties to him where nothing but solitude and deep silence reigned. And his desires would soon be answered as droplets of water began to slowly quench his stained skin, the god’s deep vermilion irises fluttering open as the skies poured down on him. The flames around him began to die down as the sea rumbled again and Bakugou mentally kicked himself for doubting the Norn’s prophecy as their words echoed in his head.

“Early begun.”

“Further spun.”

“One day done.”

“With joy once more won.”

Ragnarök wasn't the complete end of the world. Out of the sea, the earth started to rise again, new and filled with all shades of green where fields of grains soon began to grow without the hand of any god, human or elf to aid it. A new sun shined down upon the fresh world, and soon a new moon would follow suit as they both traveled the same path as their ancestors and returned to their old lawful regularity to keep earth from seeing the darkness of Ragnarök ever again.

The surviving gods met at Ithavoll, once again a safe place for the gods to regather themselves as they built a new city and joined forces to bring earth back to its original splendor. But after a while, once the tasks at hand were complete and life on earth was once again restored, Bakugou left Ithavoll to take his throne in Landvidi, the wide lands.

Where his glorious palace eagerly waits for his return, decorated with large green boughs and only the most delicate of flowers in the midst of an impenetrable primeval forest where he could peacefully reign among the silence of the trees. Where anyone who dared disturb his silence, will receive no mercy and awaken the same mighty god that tore Fenrir’s devilish jaws with his bare hands. Soon, everyone across the realm knew better than to enter the forests uninvited, for all who entered were never to be seen again.

All except one.

Ever since you were a child, your mother would warn you to never go near the woods just off the threshold of Alfheim, the land of the elves. Hearing stories and tales of how those who had crossed were turned into corpses and left to rot by the border as a warning or were never to be heard from again.

Tales of giant man-eating beasts that would starve themselves and wait patiently for whatever ignorant soul dared set foot into their territory. Some would even say that the surviving dragons resided deep within the monstrous shadows of the tall trees, that reached so far up into the sky that no daylight could seep through. Blood-thirsty bees and spiders that would drain their victims of their blood to the very last drop, leaving them nothing but a mess of bones and dried flesh for the forest soil to consume.

And those who managed to avoid such terrible fate and considered themselves lucky enough to reach deep within the forest to find the triumphant god’s palace in search of hidden treasures that only the remaining son of Odin could possess, would only be left wishing they would have died at the claws of the forests beasts, for they imagine their death would've been quicker compared to the merciless torture the retired god would greet them with before watering his rare carnivorous plants with their blood and feeding them their remains to keep them hungry for more.

But you would argue the opposite.

The forest has always been kind to you, ever since you first stepped foot inside of it, back when you were just a small elf beginning to learn the elven ways of magic and strayed a little too far off the border in search of kalonji, a white-petaled flower that only grew near the thresholds of the forest and was a necessary component for brewing medicine due to the healing properties of its seeds.

But by the time you finished collecting the rare flowers, you had already entered the forest and had no idea on how to return home. The warnings of your mother started to echo inside your head as panic began to settle in the more you looked around and the vast forest seemed to appear the same no matter which direction you faced. Sinking to your knees as tears started to cascade down your cheeks, dropping the basket of flowers beside you as you buried your face in your hands waiting for whatever horrid fate that would end your sorrows.

Your choked sobs and sniffles were certain to attract one of the many beasts your mother had told you about, but when you started to hear the ruffling of leaves in steady steps getting closer, you never imagined coming face to face with one of the most beautiful creatures you had ever laid eyes on.

A white stag with the most piercing red eyes stared down at you warily. Large, majestic antlers adorned the sides of his head, resembling the leafless branches of the winter trees, as he cautiously smelled around you, taking in your scent while your cries died down in your throat as you stared up in awe at the towering giant. His large hooves were the size of your head, and his long legs were taller than you as you took in their size while he circled around you before settling on your opposite side.

Taking one last whiff of you before turning his snout towards your basket, inhaling the rich aroma of the kalonji before gently stealing one. Raising his head to stand tall in all his glory as he looks around whilst he eats it. You reached over and grabbed a flower as well, bringing it up to your nose to take in its bitter notes within its subtle floral fragrance before presenting it to the stag. To which he happily accepted as he lowered his neck towards you once again, taking your offering before beginning to walk past you and into the trees, stopping momentarily to look back at you only to find you already at his side as you two made your way through the extensive forest.

You were unsure of where the stag was leading you, but you figured that sticking by his side would be better than waiting alone for the icy souls of Hel to take you. Taking in the vibrant colors of the forest as you found it hard to believe that so much beauty could hold such terrors, but you weren't going to remain present long enough to see it for yourself.

Along the way you encountered small white wood aster and yellow trout lilies that also possessed many medicinal benefits, taking some and putting them inside your basket for later while your started to carefully weave their small branches together, although your inexperienced hands were still clumsy, you still managed to keep all the flowers secure until finally closing it into a circlet. You've been so distracted with the flower crown in your hand that you hadn't noticed the stag had led you back to the threshold of the forest, being aware of your location once he stopped a few feet away from the treeline where you could see the busy city of Alfheim just past the bushes.

Excited that you were going to be able to return home safely, you thank the stag as he looks down at you, giving you what felt like a nod before turning his body to leave. But stopping in his tracks when you ask him to wait as he gives you a confused look, watching as you walk up to him and offer him the crown you'd been building the whole path back. Those piercing vermilion eyes softening as he stares back down into your eager ones before lowering himself to your height, presenting you the top of his head while being careful not to hurt you with his antlers as you gently place the flower crown between them.

The different shades of yellow and green contrasting from his unique white fur beautifully as you feel his cold nose poke the side of your cheek before leaving a long wet lick on it, making you giggle before waving him off as you make your way down the hill and back to the city whilst he disappears back into the deep forest.

And ever since, each time you've gone to collect more kalonji, you'd find small and rather odd gifts near the flowers. Sometimes it would be random objects like polished stones and crystals, pretty feathers of all colors and sizes, and even sharp teeth that you could only imagine belonged to a creature far larger than those of these lands.

But mostly, you'd find only the rarest of flowers placed neatly upon the grass, looking so out of scenery as they wait for your arrival against the green fields. Flowers that you couldn't even begin to name since you'd never seen any others quite like them. Some would possess the most vibrant colors your eyes had ever seen, and others would have the most fragrant aromas to carry them despite their subdued appearance. Whatever the case, you'd always look forward to the little presents that awaited you on each journey to the border, and back then you were always so curious as to who could be leaving them for you to find at such opportune times.

But now, nearly a vicennial of winters later, you still look forward to the same little surprises, only now you are well aware of who is responsible for leaving such treasures.

Making your way past the same threshold, you walk through the dense trees you've grown so accustomed to. Ever since that eventful day, the forest has always been kind and welcoming to you. Presenting you with an abundance of the same exotic flowers you would find when you were little, showing you paths filled with the same rare and delicate crystals you'd receive on occasions, and even the few animals you've had the fortune of meeting on your different journeys have grown a liking to you.

But your reason to return to this forest always remained the same.

Landvidi possessed only the most beautiful of landscapes, filled with the highest trees and tallest branches in the realm, lush vegetation and fresh flowers. Past the high grasslands, in the heart of the forest known as The Hall of Landvidi, is where the silent god’s palace is located. Surrounded by an even greater portion of earth’s natural beauty that paints a picture of solitude, for no being other than the retired warrior god could reach.

And as the protector of these lands, filled with ambition and strength, he is determined to ensure it remains that way. He has seen what destruction is like, lived it himself during the great battle of the destruction of the cosmos and all that lived within them, and will stop at nothing to keep the peace.

Bakugou is the strongest of the gods, following Thor, and after fulfilling his fate as an avenger and brave warrior, his rebirth after Ragnarök symbolizes sustainability and regrowth. Being the only god known to be tied with nature, as most gods were connected to the sea through Heimdall, the watchman of the gods, Bakugou had always felt his soul to be more at peace within the wide lands. And even though he swore to never allow any trespassers into his territory, ever since he heard your cries all those winters ago, something within him told him you'd be the exception.

As you descend down the stoned path towards the small tunnel under the large oak trees, you take in a deep breath when the soft breeze hits your skin, the tunnel is formed by the widened crowns of the trees that spread and reached the branches of the oak trees on the opposite side, creating a beautiful passage towards the hidden waterfall ahead.

From the oak branches, bellflowers of all colors hanged down decorating the path with a mesmerizing view. You reached up and collected some of the violet-blue flowers, making sure to grab several of their leaves as well. Although their petals had a mild taste, the leaves can be quite refreshing, and you knew the one you seeked would enjoy them.

Securing them inside your basket next to the fresh apples you'd collected from your orchard, you resumed your way down the oak passage as the sound of the waterfall filled your ears. The Querencia Waterfall is the most beautiful of all the waterfalls in Landvidi, located just at the entrance of The Hall a few miles from the palace. It's the only waterfall in the land that’s so high, when the sun is at its peak some of its rays seep through the tall crowns of the oak trees, forming rainbows that look like they're cascading down along with the stream when they capture the water.

Surrounded by ancient willow trees, the lake where it pools contains powerful waters filled with passion and love from the root of the weeping willows that are believed to provide a nourishing embrace of fertility and healing. These were the only willow trees in all of Landvidi, after Ragnarök they became quite rare to find throughout the realms, so you were astonished when the white stag brought you here on one of your visits. Welcoming you into the water to bathe while he feasted on some of the exotic flowers that floated around different areas of the lake.

You smiled to yourself as you think back on that day, remembering how nurturing the water felt around your body for the first time as its magic began to absorb into your skin. Your heart swelling when you recall feeling something being placed atop your head, only to find the stag adorning your hair with the water hyacinths he collected, rounding them on your head by tangling them with strands of your hair to the best of his abilities until it formed a circlet as his own way of thanking you for the crown you gave him on your first encounter.

You've been coming to Querencia ever since to meet with the stag, bringing him only the freshest fruits from your orchard and collecting flowers from the forest on your journeys to make more crowns for him as a thank you for all the treasures he leaves on the threshold for you. Sometimes he'd wait for your arrival near the berry bushes just off the edge of the forest and escort you through the wide lands filled with birch trees where many wildflowers favor growing near their roots so you can collect them. Other times, you venture into the forest at first daylight and wait for him in the water.

Today was one of those days as you reach the willow trees closest to the waterfall, settling your basket down near its roots as you begin to strip your garbs, folding them by the basket before entering the water.

Submerging yourself deeper as the warm water sinks into your skin, the soft current wraps you in a state of tranquility whilst you absorb its properties before soon enough you spot the majestic antlers of the white stag. Smiling when you meet his gaze, noticing how his doe eyes seem to light up when he meets yours before entering the water with you, gracefully making his way towards you as water splashes around him from the force of his hooves. Giggling when he presses his wet nose against yours before lowering his soft furred forehead to your damped one. Something that had become a habit when greeting each other.

“God morgon, you came rather quickly today!”, you whisper against him as you greet him in the old language.

Although the old tongue was not commonly used anymore after the great destruction, you noticed you get a reaction from the stag when using some of the old words, almost as if he understood them better than the modern tongue.

“I brought you something!”, you eagerly tell him, causing his ears to perk up at your announcement as you lift yourself from the water and start walking back towards the willow roots where you left your basket, the stag sauntering alongside you.

Watching as you open your basket to reveal the shiniest of apples, his tongue dragging against his snout at the sight as he leans forward to eat one when you offer it to him, knowing your orchard produced some of the juiciest and most delicious ones in the realm after you watered them with the water you'd collected from the Querencia river. Offering him the bellflower leaves next as he accepted them and eating one yourself before diving back into the water.

Fully submerging yourself as the stag followed suit, his smooth white fur now a light gray as it clung to him, droplets of water dripping from his antlers and falling against your skin when he circled closer for you to hold on to him as you swam together.

This was your usual routine on the days you'd meet on the waterfall, bathing together and feeding each other different fruit and flowers you'd bring to one another until the sun would start to disappear behind the mountains, indicating it was time to return home before nightfall. Currently seated on his back while he paraded you around the lake while eating some of the fruits on the bushes near the waterfall, sighing as you wished the stag could communicate with you further, even though you already communicated in your own unique way, exchanging gazes and gifts, and sharing intimate moments such as these that many would thought impossible to be as close to a rare white stag as you are with this one, you still wished he could speak sometimes and be able to tell you stories from the forest he knew so well.

“I wished you could speak to me”, you express as you rest your head against his neck, feeling the patches of hair beginning to fluff up from the breeze hitting his back where you laid. Ceasing his chewing at the sound of your voice as his ears flick at your words, turning his head to the side to look at you before softly snorting while rattling his antlers to signal you to alight and join him in the water again, to which you comply as you sink back in and circle him until you're facing him again.

Smiling when he presses his cold wet nose against your stomach, snuffling up the center of your chest while leaving gentle licks on your skin before reaching your neck to nuzzle his jaw there as your hands pet along his broad shoulders and trailing them up his slender neck. He gives your side another lick before stepping back a few steps further from you as you stare back at him confused. Unsure of his behavior since he has never done this before when bathing together.

But just as you begin to approach him again, you stop when the water around him changes its movements, once a steady stream now rapidly swirling with such force you could feel it pull you in closer. Trying your best to steady yourself in the water to swim away but as quickly as it came it dissipated, the water returned to its peaceful flow as if nothing had changed. Except now the white stag was no longer there, and in his place stood a man you'd never seen before.

A tall blonde with a strong physique of that of a warrior, adorned with battle scars and tattoos of old nordic runes on his chest traveling all the way down his abdomen and disappearing below his waist submerged in the water that you couldn't quite make out from your position. Rows of different stone necklaces, identical to the ones you gifted the stag a few winters back embellished his neck and a circlet of flowers sat atop his ash locks, the same crown of flowers you had placed on the stag not so long ago when you were riding him.

You stood there frozen in place, still confused as to what had happened to the stag that was just standing before your eyes mere moments ago. Snapping out of your daze when the man started to come closer to you, water rippling around him with each step, similar to when the stag enters the water and it splashes from the might of his hooves. The man stopped in front of you as you peered up at him, the sun seeping through the trees hitting his chiseled face to reveal his piercing vermilion eyes.

The same pools of red that you'd recognize anywhere, the eyes staring back at you were the ones of the stag, eyes you'd look forward to seeing everyday when you woke up, a deep crimson you'd come to find in all things that reminded you of the stag, in the ripe apples of your orchard that he loved so much, in the rare red lilies that only bloomed during the early times of spring in the valley near the waterfall, in the polished pyropes stones he’d bring you every late winter and now in the body of a man whose presence felt familiar the more you took in the energy around him.

He smiled when he noticed everything beginning to make sense to you when your widened eyes began to soften.

“Elskan mín”, his voice low but eager as he wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up to spin you around in the air, causing you to secure your arms around his neck while laughing before holding you close to him. Wet skin pressed against each other while strong arms keep you close as your legs instinctively wrap around his center.

Lowering your face towards him to nudge your nose against his before pressing your foreheads together, just like you would with the stag only now his nose is warm and the dampness of his forehead matches yours.

“How come you hadn’t done this earlier?”, your eyes searching his as you notice him peering at your lips while you speak before meeting your curious gaze again.

“Didn’t want to scare you away”, he answers simply whilst pressing kisses along your jaw sporadically.

“Why now then?”, you push while allowing your digits to travel up and down his nape, tangling with his hair.

“It just felt right”, he whispers while fondling one of your braids with the charms of your mother, she had removed them from her locks and secured them in yours before passing so you could have a piece of her with you when she could no longer be present in body but carry on in soul and spirit.

His hand traveled down to your shoulder where old nordic runes adorned your skin as well, only yours possessed sacred sigils of the old elven folklore, while his runes were of a time before Ragnarök. Which made you wonder if this was the retired god of vengeance everyone was so wary of, he evidently possessed the powers of one and if anyone was to allow the welcoming treatment the forest has presented you with all these years, it was him.

You reach for the hand still tracing the runes on your skin to cradle it in yours as you turn it so his palm could be facing you, whilst he watched as you inspected his hand. Smiling again when you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, almost able to see the ripples of electricity in your head as you put all the details together, a habit of yours that he loved to observe throughout the years since meeting each other.

To Bakugou, out of all the creatures that had stepped foot inside his forest seeking his aid, you were the most beautiful he had ever seen, no flower from his garden could compare to you, and since the day he met you he swore that one day you would become his goddess, and he has remained by your side since, waiting for this exact moment that he'd be able to finally show himself to you and solidify your love.

He watched as you traced the scar on his palm, a reminder of the path he once walked guided by the burdens of fate. Your eyes meet his again when you finally put all the clues together, noticing how he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, and to him you were, for you had become his purpose after no longer having interest in matters of war and retiring to spend eternity within the silence of the wide lands.

“You're him… the silent one”, only receiving a nod in return as more answers arise in your head, but settling on the one that dominated your thoughts the most.

“Why me?”

“It's always been you, elskan mín… and now we are able to seal our love for one another.”

All your questions are melted away when he pulls you towards him and captures your lips in a kiss so fervent that causes your insides to stir with emotion. Only pulling away when the need for air becomes inescapable as you pant against each other's lips.

“I’ve waited so long to do that”, he exhales while making his way towards the shore with you still secured in his arms.

The fresh spring breeze hitting your skin when you leave the comfort of the water makes you shiver, a small hint of winter still present in the air as the forest was still transitioning from the stabbing cold into the warm energetic glow that this season brought along with it.

Your nipples pebbling at the loss of heat from the god’s body when he sets you down on the soft clearing of moss and wildflowers under the tallest willow tree. Something that doesn't go unnoticed by him as he peers down at you, now able to openly devour you with his eyes whilst you lay under him, strong tatted arms caging you between them as he lowers himself to capture your lips once again.

All the tales of the remaining son of the once All-Father were of his brash and merciless demeanour, ones that were bound to inflict fear upon anyone that heard them, but all those stories drifted into distant whispers of the wind the more you got lost in him. His touch was firm yet delicate, something that would seem impossible for his physique with such imposing structure, but it was possible. His touch was filled with love and spoke the words his voice failed to express. And only now that his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your skin, is that it becomes evident to you the extent of said love as you look back on all the years you've spent together.

Courting the other in the shape of flowers, stones and apples, in a dance of mighty passion that led to this exact moment as he settled himself between your legs, positioning your thighs above his broad shoulders whilst his fingers traced informal shapes on them. His eyes fixated on the tuft of hair above your cunt as he sinks down to bury his nose in it, inhaling your scent as you watch his eyes darken from finally being able to delve in the thing he craved the most after so long.

Maroon eyes meeting yours while his lips follow the trail of hair down towards your sensitive lips, the feel of his hot breath alone making you clench around nothing as you watch him hover above your cunt, puckering his lips so a long strip of spit falls from them and lands on your clit. Watching as it slides through your folds before pressing his tongue flat on your entrance and licking all the way up to your clit, repeating the action as he falls into rhythm. Feeling yourself get increasingly wetter with each swipe of his tongue while your chest starts to rise and fall unevenly.

Getting lost in the pleasure as your hips begin to buck when his tongue focuses on your clit, circling it before rapidly flicking against it causing something to ripple inside of you. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud while his eyes look up in awe at the way you arch into him, your cries unleashing the might in him that had been forgotten for centuries as he sucks on your clit with more vehemence, needing to hear you sing for him louder.

Increasing his movements as he begins to suck on your folds, the feeling of his lips messily fondling with yours sends chills across your skin as you slowly rock your hips along with him. Your hands reach for his where they rest on your hip bones as he easily opens them for you to tangle your fingers with his whilst he continues to increasingly devour your cunt. The wet smacking sounds of his lips clashing with the ones of the waterfall as you feel yourself get closer and closer to your release.

The sweet taste of your fluids on his tongue drove Bakugou into a frenzy, lapping and eating your cunt while whined grunts resonated from deep in his chest, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Arching deeper into his touch as wanton moans escape your lips, white spots clouding your vision when he buries his face further into your cunt, nose rubbing on your clit while he drinks every last drop of your release, not stopping until he gets his fill.

Parting from your cunt once your whines die down into heavy breaths, face stained with your fluids that he pays no mind to as he dives back in to place a tender kiss against your clit before trailing up to the tuft of hair, savoring your scent as he buries his nose in them again and runs his lips against them. Pulling your hairs between them, the slight tug making you peer down at him as you meet his eyes, filled with love and adoration mixed with something else, something more sinister and hungrier that hasn't been sated completely.

Watching as he presses a kiss to your hairs as well before continuing to trail them up your abdomen, never breaking eye contact as he reaches the valley of your breast. His hands untangle from yours as they glide against your sides to cup your boobs, shaking them in his grasp before capturing one of your pert nipples in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it while he sucks them harder and slowly pulls back until it flicks out of his mouth with a wet slurp, to then switch and give the other nipple the same treatment. Alternating between both breasts as your whines encouraged him on, not stopping his ministrations until your chest was swollen and overstimulated, almost making you reach your climax once again but pulling away to edge you on as he continued to lay kisses against your chest before moving towards your neck.

Shifting from tender to ravenous when he starts to mark your skin with his teeth, nipping across your throat until settling where your neck meets your shoulder. Feeling his tongue drag against your skin followed by a sloppy kiss before his teeth scrape your delicate skin, your cunt clenching in anticipation as you wait for him to finally give in to his desires.

Bakugou could hear his heart beat loudly inside his ears as he began to sink his teeth in you, pressing down until the skin gave away against his force, the rush of blood drowning his taste buds making the loud beating cease into silence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The mighty god had left the path of war behind a long time ago, but one's nature can’t be so easily avoided as the craving for disaster and vengeance haunted him at times from a period where the blood of his enemies would quench his skin, finding its way to his lips, reminding him what victory tastes like.

So as the savory metallic taste pours down his throat, he can't contain the groan that escapes him as a chill runs down his spine making him grind against you whilst your sweet cries pull him from his silence. Withdrawing from your skin to lap up the remaining rush of blood before cradling your face in his hand, holding your jaw firmly as he presses his lips to yours. Kissing you with such might you feel he could almost devour you through the kiss as the taste of your own blood mixing with each other's spit sends you both in a trance as you continue savoring it.

Bucking your hips to grind against his cock as his hips follow suit, beads of precum mixing with your arousal as he rubs his length between your folds whilst his tongue tangles with yours. Too engrossed in the kiss to pull away, you sneak your hand between your bodies and guide his cock to align with you as he slowly begins to sink into your cunt. The stretch of his cock sends a hot wave of pleasure down your back as your cunt sucks him in further, inch by inch as your fingers curl around ash blonde strands.

Your breaths become labored as you part from each other, lips swollen and red as he fully sinks into your warmth. The grip from your silken walls forces him to brace himself as he places his arms next to your head to keep himself from collapsing when he feels his thighs twitch. Pressing his forehead to yours when his hips start to rock into you, slow and steady at first before gradually increasing his thrusts into a brutal pace that drives both of you into a babbling mess.

Your wetness gushing messily, soaking the untamed strands of ash hair on his pelvis as they bounce against your own, before dribbling onto your skin causing it to spread in sticky strands every time his hips part from yours to snap against them again. Strangled moans mixing with the sloppy sounds of your bodies as the sensations become overwhelmingly good.

Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you look up at him, trying your best to answer him when he asks you to tell him how good it feels between the curses in old tongue and heavy grunts that escape him. Responding to what feels like incoherent babbles as your mind melts away the more he pounds into your sloppy pussy.

Bakugou could feel his balls twitch as he neared his release, but he needed you to come undone with him and make an even greater mess on his cock for him. Shifting his weight on one arm while the other gives your breast a quick tug before reaching between your bodies as he starts drawing quick circles against your clit with his thumb. Sending an electric shock of pleasure through your body as your breath gets stuck in your throat before you start coming apart.

Squeezing around him hard as a flow of arousal gushes between your bodies as it stains both of you and leaks down into the soil beneath you. Your walls clenching around him mixed with the obscene sounds coming from your pussy sending him over the edge as well as he buries his cock to the hilt, filling you up as the hand on the side of your head tangles with your hair when yours tug harder at the one on his nape.

The tears finally spilling from your eyes as hot - impossibly hot - globs of creamy cum spill against your sultry cunt, searing your insides as you find yourself never wanting this moment to end, wishing to always be plugged full of the vengeful gods mighty cum. Feeling the final pulses of his cock inside you as his head falls down against your shoulder, smiling to yourself between heavy breaths at the wet feel of his ecstasy filled tears smearing against your skin but choosing not to say anything as he fully allows his weight on top of your whilst your arms wrap around him.

Giggling at the soft lips pressing feather-light kisses on the side of your neck as they slowly trail up towards your lips, capturing them in a gentle kiss while his fingers caress your scalp where he previously had a grip on your hair.

A cold breeze pulls you both from your trance as the rustling of the willow tree above you fills your ears, once again reminding of the remnants from the harsh winter as goosebumps erupt from your skin. You notice how the waterfall no longer has a rainbow flowing through it, indicating that the sun has already begun to set, and you need to return home quickly.

You've never stayed in the forest long enough to see nightfall, and the stag would always make sure to escort you back to the treeline safely before sunset, but today time had slipped from your hands and you began to worry. Bakugou is quick to notice your concern as he wraps his arms around your center to hold you close, burying his head in the crook of your neck again and taking a deep breath as he inhales your warm scent.

“I have to leave”, you remind him but still reciprocate his actions by wrapping your arms around him again as you also hated the idea of having to depart from this moment.

“Stay”, he whispers against your skin followed by a swipe of his tongue against the dried blood around the punctures on your neck.

“There is nowhere for us to st-”, you began to dissent, but the forest god silenced you by quickly pulling you into a kiss once more. Grin on his features that you couldn't help but smile in return despite your disapproving eyes.

“I want to show you something”, he guides your legs to wrap around his waist before rising from the ground with you secured in his arms as he carries you through a path of the forest you hadn't explored before. The sun was already halfway past the mountains, making it hard to see, but just as you were about to express your concerns to him, a light in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A small blinking light followed by another until an entire cloud of dancing lights was illuminating your path.

After Ragnarök, it was rare to catch a glimpse of certain insects, fireflies being one of them, so seeing so many in one place had your jaw slack as you watched how they gracefully danced under the upcoming moonlight whilst they guided you through the forest.

Bakugou kept walking through the field of thinning willow trees that started to morph into magnificent maple trees that even with only the dim light of the fireflies, you could vividly see their vibrant colors. These acer trees had also become a rarity after the great destruction, and the analgesic in their bark was of high command to aid as a remedy for some illnesses, which made you wonder why he hadn't shown you this part of the forest before. The stag had always granted you access to all the rare medicinal flora found in these lands so you found it odd that he kept this area hidden from you.

Your confusion only grew more as you made your way deeper into the darker trails of the maples, where the path seemed to end by a sealed corridor blocked off with an impenetrable wall of large roots and maple leaves.

“Blómi”, you hear Bakugou whisper as the sound of creaking wood follows, watching as the roots begin to untangle from each other and the leaves falls to the ground revealing a path of lit stones descending into a large garden with a great abundance of flowers, leading towards a large structure.

Your jaw fell slack again, as you wouldn't have imagined that this is where the silent god kept his palace, nor that such a vibrant area filled with such sublime greatness of nature could be hidden amid the sacred gloom of the maples. Bakugou couldn't help but smile as he carried you through his garden whilst you stared in complete enchantment, filled with joy that he could finally share his greatest treasures with you.

The inside of the palace was equally as marvelous as the outside and had a beautiful golden fountain at the very center with small creeks that led to other corridors of the palace, ones you couldn't wait to explore once daylight came again. As for now, the mighty god was still carrying you towards what you could only imagine were his chambers as he ascended the grand staircase near the main entryway. Revealing an archway adorned with flowy white curtains that led inside his bedchamber where he set you down on the spacious bed at the center of the room. The bedding was soft and cozy as you sink deeper into the comfort of them, noticing how the moon sat perfectly above the palace where you had a clear view through the sunroof above the bed.

“Hí, elska”, you heard Bakugou whisper next to you, offering you a coconut shell filled with water.

“Takk!”, you smile while grabbing the shell and drinking from it, finishing its contents before settling back down on the bed as a yawn escapes you, sleep finally catching up to you after such a fulfilling day. Settling against his chest whilst Bakugou worked his fingers through some of the tangles bathing earlier might have caused.

“God natt, ásynja mín”, he boasts, a grin spreading at your widened eyes looking up at him.

“Ásynja?”, you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly to which he only nods in return as you match his smile.

“Yes, ásynja mín, for everything I own is now yours as well”, he adds while nodding towards the room, confirming that he meant the palace and everything within his forest was now yours to rule alongside him for eternity.

And you couldn't be happier as you drift off to sleep against the god’s chest, neither could him as he placed a gentle kiss against your forehead before peering up at the moon. Asking his father if he was watching as he finally found the one with whom his soul delights in after many years of hard battles, he has completed the prophecy he set for himself all those winters ago when he met you, now with a content smile as he buried his nose in your head, excited for what the future awaits as the rulers of Landvidi.

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charlizekkelly · 10 months

Text

hungry like the wolf

Spicy Prompt: “Look how well you’re taking me.”

Pairing: Reader x Dwayne (The Lost Boys 1987)

Word Count: 2167

TW’s: Size kink, slight somophilia, dub-con (??), non-con, pet names (sweet girl & good girl), biting and blood play.

Author's Note: God damn. This got out of hand and like Dwayne, this is a big one (I'm sorry I had to). Who wouldn't want to be fucked senseless by him? Let's be honest, he's the man and would fuck like a God.

Tags (Dwayne's hoes) : @ghoulgeousimmaculate @britany1997 @misslavenderlady @dwaynesluscioushair @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @lostinsantacarla

!18+ CONTENT - MINORS DNI!

The alkaline-infused breeze skittered down the tunnelways of the cavernous home, carrying the scent of the ever-changing tides of Hudson’s Bluff through the cave, blustering the flames within the fire barrels or the candles perched upon rock crevices. Not that it mattered to her, tucked beneath the assortment of blankets on Dwayne’s bed with soft candlelight illuminating the room. Oblivious to the path his thoughts had taken as he peered down at her with dark irises, lingering on the dark fabric of his shirt and the white-lace panties he glimpsed from where her leg stuck out from beneath the sheets, his shirt riding up her body in a way that made him want to groan.

Dwayne was many things–patient, caring, attentive, coolheaded and loyal–but with her, he found himself obsessing over the way she smiled up at him whenever they spoke. Or the way she laughed and he had to feign nonchalance like the sound hadn’t sent blood rushing to his dick and a multitude of thoughts to careen through his head. Of how she tasted, the way he could make her squirm, the sounds she made or the way she felt wrapped around his cock.

This isn’t helping me, at all, he thought, watching as she shifted on the mattress and he gingerly slipped from beneath the sheets.

Heading toward the room’s doorway before her voice rippled to his ears and he came to a jarring halt, his head turning ever-so-slowly back to where she lay, sound asleep. He waited a moment, locked in the doorway with his gaze pinned upon her, wondering if this was a cruel mind trick played by Paul and Marko. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if David was a part of it–all three blonds notorious for their love of mind games.

But then, the saccharine call he thought he’d heard from her lips filled his ears. A sound so sweet, it almost brought him to his knees. Something his companions continuously taunted him about, the trio aware of his infatuation with the human woman he cared about. But neither of the trio was game enough to cross him, knowing the ease with which he went from coolheaded to protective–possessive–but it didn’t deter their playful jests.

“Dwayne,” she called again, her voice all breathy and laced with lust.

As hard as he tried–which wasn’t very hard at all–he couldn’t fight the smug grin that crept across his face, approaching her with wolfish ease. He knew she was a moderately light sleeper but still, he reached out and pulled the blankets away from her body, baring her to his hungry eyes as he sunk onto his jean-clad knees at the end of the bed and admired her for several moments.

It was as she shifted on the mattress and his dark irises locked on the pearl-white lace that contrasted perfectly with her skin, that his deeply timbered voice filled the room. “Fuck.”

“If you’re going to fuck her, can I watch?” Came Paul’s husky voice through their pack’s bond.

Dwayne’s eyes rolled at the hopeful edge of his companion’s voice–and where he wasn’t opposed to sharing her with him–he didn’t want to share her right now. “Paul,” he warned.

“Is that a yes?” Paul questioned, an audible sigh skittering down their bond when the brunette didn’t immediately respond. “Dwayne?”

Dwayne’s large palms smoothed over her bare legs, up her thighs until he grasped the soft flesh and gently pulled her to the bed’s edge, careful not to wake her as his stare traversed her features.

“Not tonight.” Came his distracted response before Paul’s presence vanished from his mind.

With a tenderness he reserved for her and her alone, he parted her legs until the flesh of her thigh pressed and bracketed his shoulders. Careful not to nick her skin as he lithely cut the lace from her body, tossing it over his shoulder with little care before he settled his hands upon her inner thighs. Kneading the flesh for a moment as if to savour the feel of her, his ebony tresses tousled and framed his face like a wrathful god whilst his umber gaze remained trained on her face as he dipped his head and his tongue dragged a sensual trail over her labia.

A soft noise tumbled from her lips as he focused his attention on her clit for several seconds, his fingertips sinking into her skin when he dragged a slow stripe up her cunt. He couldn’t stop the low groan that emanated from the depths of his chest if he tried as the taste of her cloyed on his tongue, the sound vibrating into her clit in a way that drew a soft, sleepy gasp from her lips, and for her eyes to groggily blink down at him.

“Dwayne…what are you–what are you doing?” Her brows furrowed as a breathy moan tumbled from her mouth and she subconsciously ground her cunt into his face, his grasp tightening on her in response.

His head lifted from her cunt, grinning up at her whilst his fingers leisurely toyed with her clit. Like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, this?” He drawled, feigning confusion, fingers dragging the mix of his saliva and her arousal up to circle the sensitive nerve ending, a sharp breath sucked into her chest as a single, thick digit salaciously sunk into her cunt. “I’m taking care of my sweet girl. I’m worshipping her.”

His finger dragged torturously slow, his eyes locked on her face and the way her head tipped back into the sheets when his thumb pressed into her clit, a second digit slipping into her cunt as his pace never faltered. Dwayne’s fingers continued their steady strokes, fingertips curling in a way that wrenched a guttural moan from her lips and a dozen curses to rent off the cavernous walls.

“Fuck, Dwayne. Don’t stop,” she said, hands bunching the sheets beneath her.

“And refuse you of what you want? I don’t think so. I do have a better idea that’ll benefit us both.” A dark chuckle filled her ears, his eyes flashing with something sinful as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and they nimbly unbuttoned his jeans, shoving the fabric down his muscular legs and kicking it off to the side.

“Benefit us both how?” She said, holding his dark gaze.

“Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” Came his response as his lips tugged into a wolfish grin.

Without much thought, her legs dutifully parted for him, creating more space for him between her thighs as he discarded his boxers in the same direction as his pants. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself, stepping into the space between her legs before he teasingly dragged his tip across her cunt and one of his hands grasped the flesh of her hip, the other pressed into the fabric beside her.

“Please,” she murmured as he lowered his head and his lips brushed hers, drawing circles into her clit with the head of his cock.

The muscles of his abdomen rippled beneath his skin, capturing her attention before his voice filled her ears. “What do you want, beautiful? Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

“I want you,” she breathed out against his lips, pushing herself onto her elbows so she could connect their lips, kissing him whilst one of her hands skittered over the chorded muscles of his arm and tangled in his dark locks.

And like it took everything in him to pull away–his lips hovering above hers a hairsbreadth away–the hand by her side balled into a fist and his voice lowered several, heady octaves. “Where?” He grounded out through clenched teeth, the action seeming to sharpen his jawline.

Her brows furrowed with confusion for a moment. “What?”

“Where do you want me, sweet girl? Where do you want my cock?” He rasped, pressing a sensual kiss to the underside of her jaw before he nipped at the soft skin.

“Inside me,” she said, gasping as the first few inches of his cock plunged into her cunt, his girth stretching her insides in a euphoric way. His lips met with hers for a moment, kissing her with ravaging quality before she pulled away from his mouth. “Dwayne,” her gaze darted to where they were connected and the inches his cock still needed to enter her–every glorious inch of him that sent her mind reeling–as he slowly pressed more of his cock into her. “You’re so…big.”

He hummed in response, pressing firm, adoration-filled kisses to her throat. “You say that every time, my love, but look how well you’re taking me.”

His words clamoured in her mind, dousing her in a lust-filled haze when he slowly drew back and plunged the rest of his cock into her, his thumb drawing circles into her clit. A breathy moan–part curse, part garbled moan–fell from her lips, body sinking into the mattress as he quickened the pace of his thrusts and the head of his cock brushed a spot inside her that made her squirm.

Dwayne’s dark tut traipsed across the room, hands grasping her hips to prevent her from squirming. “Not so fast. You wanted me inside you and I gave it to you. So now, you’re going to take it like a good girl.” His thrusts deepened as he peered down at her, revelling in the way soft pants escaped past her lips. “Are you my good girl?”

“Yes,” she breathed dazedly, gasping as his cock pressed against her G-spot and the budding tide of her orgasm crept to the forefront of her mind. “Fuck, Dwayne. I’m your good girl.”

A deep groan fell through his lips, head tipping up to the ceiling as he purposely thrust his hips in a way that he knew would collide with her G-spot and his thumb pressed into her clit, mounting her orgasm as he felt her clench around his cock.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he praised, tearing his gaze from the roof to traverse her body before his thrusts seemed to falter and he hurriedly freed her from the dark fabric of his shirt. His mind short-circuited for a moment when his stare landed on where his cock thrust steadily into her, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he refocused on her bare body.

A large hand cupped her breast, mildly irritated at himself for not paying them any attention sooner as he rolled one taut nipple between his fingers whilst his mouth captured the other and he alternated between circling her nipple with his tongue and sucking hickeys into her skin.

“Dwayne,” she moaned, all breathy and filled with a desperation he recognised.

He knew what she wanted the moment her strained plea met his ears, pulling away from her breasts as the hand at her hip tightened and he rolled his hips in a way that drew another moan from her lips, her cunt clenching around him. “Yes, my sweet girl?”

His lips brushed against hers, her soft pants warming his face as he peered down at her with wolfish delight and she managed to form a coherent sentence through the lust-filled haze of her mind. “I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum…please.”

“With manners like that? Who am I to deny you?” he drawled, his hand trailing over her chest to grasp the nape of her neck. Supporting her head as he drew her closer to himself and his teeth elongated into fangs, sinking into her throat in the same moment the head of his cock brushed against her G-spot.

A pleasure-riddled moan echoed across the room and down the darkened tunnelways, no doubt reaching Marko, David and Paul’s ears as she came and he swallowed languid mouthfuls of her blood. He pulled away from her throat in the next heartbeat, head tipping back to the ceiling as he came with a guttural moan, fingertips sinking into her hips.

Her blood coated his chin, dripping down his throat to the chiselled plains of his stomach when he refocused on the room around him and he nimbly hooked her legs around his waist, climbing onto the mattress and situating them in the middle of the bed. Dwayne dragged the assortment of blankets over her body as he tucked her into his side, fussing with the pillows until he was satisfied with her comfort and his blood-stained lips pressed a loving kiss to hers, arms woven over her waist.

A content hum tumbled from her lips as his fingers grasped her chin and he angled her head to bare his marks to his gaze, lathing his tongue over the weeping indents he left behind, ensuring they closed beneath his dark stare. The taste of her cloying on his tongue as he forced himself to refrain from plunging his fangs into her throat once more, always craving her like an untapped hunger that couldn’t be quenched.

Hungry like the wolf.

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ro-is-struggling · 11 months

Text

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look, I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club?

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds.

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey.

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless.

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question.

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue.

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart.

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive.

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him.

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table.

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home.

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind.

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well.

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece."

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe.

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be."

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts.

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities.

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter.

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were.

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

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yandereunsolved · 2 months

Text

Breath of a Yandere - ,, Yandere Wild headcanons

tw(s): yandere themes, (Wild) multiple mentions of suicidal ideations/suicide & self depreciation

ꨄ︎ Yandere Wild who met you after waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection. You were a lone traveler from Lurelin Village. You traveled countless months, with many others accompanying you at various points on your journey. You had to know the truth. You had to know if it was true. The rumors about the legendary hero fueled your adventures. You feared the worst, but you found him. He didn't awake at first. You spent weeks traveling out of the Shrine only for necessities.

ꨄ︎ He heard a strange voice coming from the darkness and then saw you. You spoke to him with such a reverence that he wasn't accustomed to. He was incredibly cautious and wouldn't allow you near him. That all changed when you offered him some glazed meat. He shoved it down his throat and suddenly you were his closest companion.

ꨄ︎ Words never leave his mouth. You thought at first it was just the surprise of awakening after a hundred years, but no. He just never spoke to you. He spoke with his hands and through his body language. He taught you most of the Hylian sign language that you know. It is probably better that he doesn't speak. You would be disturbed and greatly flattered about the things he thinks about you.

ꨄ︎ He never leaves your side unless you are both put in a life ending situation. He's like a silent but loyal dog. He is always watching your movements and standing guard over you. You have to cuddle with him before he finally allows himself to succumb to sleep.

ꨄ︎ Guardians? You are staying behind. Shrines? You may stand at the entrance as long as there are no monsters around. If there are then he will kill them and then make you wait. The Divine Beasts? Okay, fine— he allows you in all the Divine Beasts except for Vah Naboris. He allows you to ride with Riju but only because she has the Thunder Helm. However, the Ganonblights? On Hylia's name, no. You go back to the entrance and wait there.

ꨄ︎ Ganon himself? You wait. After your entire journey together, he only speaks one word to you. "Wait." He presses himself against you and makes you hide behind one of the castle pillars. There are tears in his eyes and he is shaking. You are his God(dess). He has killed and sacrificed so much. You saved him. You did. He signs to you. "I face Ganon alone. I can't lose you." His hands get shaky. "I love you."

ꨄ︎ That's the first time he ever says he loves you and his yandere tendencies only get worse from there. More possessive. More obsessive. More puppy-like. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. He always has an eye on you and doesn't allow you out of his sight. He would never hurt you, but he'll hurt others for you.

ꨄ︎ After the battle you two embrace each other and he sobs quietly into your chest. He allows you to patch his wounds. It's difficult because he's hanging off of you. Zelda is sitting near you both around the campfire. It's a little a lot awkward because she's seen his entire journey. She has seen his feelings for you blossom. A part of her hurts because she won't have her Link back, but was he ever hers? It was just his duty.

ꨄ︎ His memories may have come back but he only has one person in his heart. That person is you. Zelda wants him to come back as a knight. He signs no. He has to stay near you. He will die without you.

ꨄ︎ He thinks the sweetest and most depraved things in his mind. He is constantly praising you within his mind. He wishes he could speak those words but he can't. So he signs them. He shows them through acts of service. His mind is just a constant track about you. Partially this is because of his knight training. He was trained to protect and serve. He was trained to help the princess. His mind still sometimes slips back into that. It's just you, you, you, danger?, you, you, you.

ꨄ︎ On that note, his trauma is constantly fueling his tendencies and how he sees you as his god(dess). He was a child knight, blames himself for failing to protect everyone before Calamity Ganon gave over, and woke up with zero memories and a mission to save all of Hyrule. You were the first person he met. You were and still are his guide to this world. Sure, you aren't fated to be with him. Sure, it could have been just a mistake— but you are the first person that ever got him. You didn't push him to speak. You took your time in learning how to communicate with him. You respected him not just as the hero but a person.

ꨄ︎ He takes interest in whatever you are interested in. He will go so far as trying to replicate what you are doing. He isn't great at art but he'll do his best to draw what you are doing. He shows it you like an excited little kid. He does little poems as well. They are all about his adoration to you and how much he wants to spend time with you. Sometimes they have some blood splatters on them. Don't think about it too hard.

ꨄ︎ He his naturally cautious when all of these goods things become interrupted with the introduction of The Chain. He is like a frightened animal with his hackles up. He has his mastersword pointed to the strange group. They introduce themselves and he relaxes a little. He stays by your side the entire time and makes sure everyone knows that you are taken by him.

ꨄ︎ It's really, really, really hard for him when you say you want to travel with The Chain. His thought process is like this: heartbreak. My God(dess) wants to be around other Links? Why do they want to put themselves in danger? Why? Why? I have to protect them. I have to. I need them near me. Why do they want to travel? Will they still cook for me and me only...? Or will I have to share? You want to travel to different Hyrules and fight monsters with them? You want to see their Hyrules? What if my Hyrule isn't good enough for you?

ꨄ︎ As much as he hates it— he'd do anything for you. He sets some ground rules though. No letting the others get too close. Stay by his side. Tell him everything. And do not, ever, put yourself in harms way. That has been his number one rule since day one. No getting yourself hurt. That scares him the most. He could live without you, but you are alive. He'd barely be alive but he could live. If you died? He'd kill himself and die right next to you. So when you get a scratch he wants, needs, aches to kill the thing that gave you that scratch.

ꨄ︎ You both begin traveling with The Chain and it goes better then expected. Wild is still the same Wild. He may even be getting a little better. The Chain is a bunch of hims. Wild is doing better in a way. He's gotten close to everyone and now knows some of their secrets. He's quiet and he listens. They are unassuming of him. Even the more cautious ones such as Hyrule, Legend, and Time bring their guard down a little. He rarely communicates with them but you know he is acutely listening. He only really signs to you.

ꨄ︎ So, it's perfect. There are a bunch of hims that stay away from you and protect you. He is getting them to trust him. You are safer than you have ever been. Safe. So safe. And if he needs to kill them for you? He's already got the information on them.

ꨄ︎ Wild always buys you things from the villages you all go to. He runs up to you and shoves them into your hands happily. It's one of the few times you see a smile on his usually stoic face. He absolutely adores buying you matching fits. He's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He loves matching with you. He even gets you a sword that mimics the mastersword in style. He teaches you how to wield it and everything.

ꨄ︎ He sabotages the others in The Chain if they try to spend time with you. He'll tell you things about them, dark things that he's learned. He'll write them out to you and slip them into your back pocket, your satchel, your bed roll. He'll make them look stupid in front of you. He might accidentally trip them or outbest them in sparring. He makes sure you see the worst of them and the best of him. He doesn't need words to steal your heart all for himself.

ꨄ︎ He always wakes up early and watches you sleep. He tries to resist your warmth to not fall asleep but it's too much. So he wakes up in the morning before you. He watches silently, unblinkingly. He thinks you look so adorable, so pretty, so handsome. You are even more angelic when you are awake. Your smile could even make Ganon fall to his knees.

ꨄ︎ He either makes breakfast for you or with you. He sits guard while you bathe in the river. He wants to take a peek but he doesn't! He's a loyal man. He's tempted. Very tempted though. He loves watching you do your skincare and getting ready though. His eyes rarely leave you while in eyesight.

ꨄ︎ His habits reach their most overbearing after Sage joins The Chain. His life was going so perfect with you. You got protection and he got you all to himself. Now, there's this new version of him. He is acting so... clingy towards you. He just seems so attached to you. Wild begins to get shooed away when Sage is near. You are all about being near Sage. Saving Sage.

ꨄ︎ He refuses to leave your side, even for a moment. He distances himself from the rest of The Chain. He begins to not eat. He begins to not sleep. He gets very nervous and becomes a wreck. He thinks if he does this to himself you'll love him. You loved him when he was like this before. Is this what you want? Do you want someone that needs you? He needs you more than anyone else. He doesn't see any reason to live anymore without you.

ꨄ︎ Like always, you save him. You save him from that dark place and refuse to leave his side. He cuddles into you and refuses to let you go. You feel guilty and you are worried sick about him. Wild almost died and he refuses to tell you why. You were sparring with Sage and suddenly you heard a sword slash in the woods. Wild stabbed himself in the heart with a sword... If it wasn't for Hyrule he'd be dead.

ꨄ︎ You sobbed for hours over his body and you refused to leave. You still do. You are beginning to succumb to his neediness and overprotective ways. Just like Wild wanted. He just needs to be wanted by you. He just needs your love. He just needs one person who will love him above all else.

ꨄ︎ Wild has you, but at Sage's expense. He's extremely irritated that this little boyfriend of yours is taking you away from him. A few of the other Links have mixed, upset, and possessive feelings as well. However, we'll discuss that another time.

tag list; lmk if you want to be tagged: @screaming-until-god-hears-me

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qstea · 7 months

Note

Hello well can I request 4 killer, cross and error headcanon with kind-heart s/o? Like s/o love to help other people get through their pain such as dream,in short is s/o is a goody-goody-two-shoes kind of person.

📎 Kindhearted S/O Headcanons ★

Featuring: Killer!Sans, XTale!Sans, Error!Sans

#Notes: IM BACKKKKK SORRY GUYS LOLOLOL. EAT UP U LIL SHITS

pronouns used: they/them

warnings: some suggestive content if you squint

Killer Sans -

Killer thinks it’s beyond adorable. Seeing you so quick to drop everything to help somebody in need intrigues him so much, as he rarely feels actual emotions and empathy. Finds your goody-two-shoes behavior to be very motivating and such a breath of fresh air. It revives the small, faint, part inside of him that was the Sans he used to be.

Another thing is that they have a thing for innocent and naive types, all things untouched by life’s evils. The mere thought of corrupting somebody so sweet and kind is…. something they dwell on very often.

Don’t worry! He won’t hurt you, no, never. He just thinks that your relationship dynamic is funny.. the big bad wolf, Killer, who’s notorious for killing hundreds of innocent monsters without remorse or pity.. and the cute little kindhearted beauty at his side, untouched by all of his evils he has committed in his lifetime.

XTale Sans -

Your purity is exactly what made him fall for you. It’s the way you treat others with a type of kindness he hasn’t seen in so long, the one that he had longed for in his traumatized life. A life where he was stuck being some sort of sickening pawn under his father’s clawed fingertips.

Has an overwhelming instinct to protect you from everyone and everything, like some sort of untrained guard dog; biting, growling, and fighting off threats for the purpose of shielding you from the horrors of the multiverse, even though this protection may or may not be needed.

He can’t have another loved one leave, he just can’t. He loves you too much for you to get hurt like everyone else, he has to protect you. Everybody in the multiverse has a sick cruelness in their souls and he can’t let the light of his life be tainted with their diseases.

Nothing you say will have stop him from being overprotective and afraid of anything and everything.

Error Sans -

Kindness is not something often found in the multiverse, and especially not standing before the very force that stuck down many worlds, ended many lives, and showed no mercy or pity to those they faced against.

And then there was you, who dared flash their sweet smile, friendly words, and sympathetic nature to the destroyer of worlds. They were shaken, this was new, this was peculiar. They had never seen such a phenomenon before.

And so, they study you, they fall in love with you, they take you under their wing.

They couldn’t let the world see something that was only meant for their sockets, and their sockets only. In the multiverse, the strongest take what they want and take what they wanted, Error did. They had to take advantage of this, they couldn’t risk having anybody else having a taste of this.

They didn’t do it to protect you, they did it because they’re lonely, and all who have not friends, allies, or companions want more then they were destined to have. And so, they became selfish, and took you for their own. Have fun.

#qstea’s works #undertale x reader #underverse x reader #undertale au x reader #killer sans x reader #killer x reader #xtale sans x reader #cross sans x reader #cross x reader #error sans x reader #error x reader

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violetsiren90 · 2 months

Text

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others. You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer.

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like.

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again.

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks. 

~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place.

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name.

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit. 

~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen. 

-Fin-

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

story playlist

The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song.

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness.

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff.

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed.

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws.

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet!

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form.

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.”

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs.

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…”

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight.

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it.

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her.

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity.

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her.

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day.

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall.

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.”

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking.

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.”

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?”

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.”

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she?

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected.

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair.

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails.

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.”

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building.

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering.

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor.

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing.

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera,

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello.

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you.

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best,

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat.

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers.

Prince Aemond,

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold.

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers.

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat.

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more.

I wish you well.

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk.

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified.

Lady Stark,

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well.

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries.

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was.

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for.

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory.

Were they strangers now?

Does he remember her?

… why does she still wish to see him?

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #banshees lament #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x original female character #aemond x ofc

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henrioo · 2 months

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°•*⁀➷ MINE TO CLAIM: ZORO

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : In a full moon night your werewolf boyfriend can be a little wild and uncontrollable, good that you don't mind helping him with all his needs.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : AMAB! READER, MALE! READER, NSFW, MLM, HOMO SEX, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, werewolf stuff (full moon, heat, knot, biting/mark, mate), impregnation talk (Zoro wants to make the reader a dad), breeding kink, the reader CAN'T get pregnant but Zoro doesn't care

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : So again, minors and fem DNI, you be blocked and blah blah, I'm not in a good mental state to post a long notes, so sorry. The thing I can say is I will try to finish the ask because I am already taking too long, and I will try to finish translating my other stuff to post, I hope this helps me get better, thanks for all the support and enjoy!

You held tighter to the pile of pillows, there was padding everywhere thanks to Zoro's claws that had ripped some pillows and cushions from the nest he built. You thought that nests were things for omegas in fanfictions, but it seemed that in reality all wolves had one. Since Zoro no longer slept in the forest now that you were dating, and you forbade him to sleep in the middle of the woods when you had a house in perfect condition, it wasn't strange to realize that he really missed something more traditional from his werewolf origins.

You helped him build the nest with lots of love, using a small spare room in your house, the two of you were able to build a nest and a small den for when Zoro felt like snuggling, following his instincts in a more natural place for his breed. It was basically a mess of sheets, your and Zoro's clothes, as well as several pillows and cushions to make you comfortable. You also covered the window with black plastic so that it would always be darker and more cozy for both of you.

Usually, you and Zoro just laid there cuddling, especially when he was in his full form. Sometimes you ate and watched movies on your cell phone, nothing too strange or exotic. That was until Zoro finally asked you to marry him and asked if he could mark you as his mate, saying he couldn't bear to go out with you on the street anymore, knowing that you didn't have his mark or scent. After some explanations about this ritual, you accepted both requests with great emotion, deciding to become Zoro's become his fiancé and also his companion.

Since the branding ritual, a deep bite on your neck that bled and left you in pain for weeks, unable to even turn your neck, every full moon, his nest, which was once just a spare room for snuggles, has become something much more… Intimate.

“Zoro!” You screamed his name for the thousandth time that night, your ass was high in the air and if it weren't for Zoro's big hands with huge claws holding you by your thighs, your wobbly legs would have already given up on you.

Your entire body was burning, and you had already cum so many times that your dick was so sensitive and Zoro hadn't even fucked you yet, he was too busy with foreplay. He was now licking your hole like he was sucking on ice cream, sticking his huge tongue so deep you could see stars, you were already drooling against the nest and every scent of your wolf was so intoxicating that you felt drunk and sick from his pheromones.

“Mine, mine, mine” Zoro didn't speak properly during mating season, he usually growled and released small compliments or affirmations of possession. He tried to show all his feelings just through actions, not being able to trust his tongue to express all his desires.

He finally pulled away from your hole, which was now dripping with saliva, and enjoyed the view for a bit. You were squeezing around nothing, and you were stretched and wet enough to take him. Zoro was always twice as careful during the full moon, knowing that for a human it would be much more difficult and painful to take a werewolf's knot completely. He quickly bit your ass a little hard and slapped the other side, then he stood up and leaned over you.

He placed kisses on your back, feeling you relax as he began to smell your neck and hair, making you shiver and let out a soft moan. He quickly began rubbing his nose against the huge bite mark on your neck and licking it affectionately, feeling pride fill his chest knowing that you were completely his and anyone could know that.

“Zoro… Please” you begged whimpering for him, you were already so tired and overstimulated that you were afraid you would pass out before the wolf was able to stick his dick in you. “I want your cock, please, please, I need it so much” you begged him, begged him to finally satisfy you both and not prolong this pleasurable torture any longer.

“Do you want my cock?” He growled in your ear as he grabbed your waist with one of his hands, his claws scratched you and you knew you would be sore all over the next morning. “Do you want my knot? Do you want me to fill it completely?” He pumped his own dick while rubbing the head of it against his crying hole, which was trying his best to suck him inside. Your own cock began to twitch, getting excited to cum again.

“Yes! I want your knot! I need it, Zoro!” You screamed without any shame, knowing that Zoro loved it when you became uncontrollably vocal, shouting how much you loved and needed him “I need you to fill me Zoro! Please! I need your cum inside me!” You cried shamelessly trying to rub your ass against him.

“Shit… You’re my needy boy, aren’t you? I'm going to fill you so good, I'm going to fill you completely... You're going to take my fucking knot and I'm going to fill you with my cum again and again until you're full and pregnant with my puppies” he breathed heavily into your you heard as he began to slowly thrust into you, giving you time to get used to his cock which was bigger and more swollen due to the full moon “You want this, don’t you? Carry my puppies? Being the daddy of our pack” he growled at the idea.

"Yes! I want to! Please, Zoro! I want to carry your puppies! Oh!” You screamed as he thrust harder, shoving a large portion of his cock in at once. “I’ll be a good dad, I promise!” You didn't even have control over what you were screaming and begging for anymore, you just needed him.

“I know, I know you will” You both knew it was impossible for you to get pregnant, after all you were both amab men, but that didn't lessen the fantasy of Zoro filling you up until you were pregnant with his puppies. “I’m going to fill you so fucking good you’ll be dripping”

And when Zoro rammed the rest of his cock in, pressing into your prostate so hard that you came immediately, feeling your legs giving out and your eyes rolling back to their fullest as you could feel his cock so deep and swollen inside you that you definitely had a bulge in your stomach, you knew that was definitely a promise.

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male-body-swap-lover · 3 months

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That Suburban Dad Life

Nicholas Fletcher was young, but he was well on his way. A young ad exeuctive who lived in downtown Chicago. A stunning new condo at Wolf Point that looked directly down the south branch of the Chicago river. Not everyone was so lucky. And did he care? Not at all. Selfish. Unlikeable. Cutthroat. Just some words that described Nicholas Fletcher. At least he had the heart of Ms. Annabelle Davis. She came from a wealthy family and Nicholas saw it as a way to get ahead in his career. Today was the day he was going to propose to the “love” of his life. Unfortunately he was running late.

“God dammit. Stupid traffic. Why won’t these pedestrians move out of the way”, he said.

In his impatience, he accidentally hit the accelerator instead of the brake and hit an old woman walking in front of his car.

“Oh fuck” he said.

He got out of the car and walked to the old lady who had fallen. He tried to help her up but she swatted his hand away.

“I don’t need help. Could you not see I was walking” she screamed at him.

“Look lady, I am on my way to propose to my girlfriend. I don’t have time to wait for some old lady from the suburbs to cross the road. I’m sorry.

“Young man, you are impatient and unkind.”

“And you are kind of a dramatic bitch. Get up off the street so I can go.”

“All you young men are so rude. You call me suburban. I bet if you were suburban, you’d have some patience and manners.”

As she stood up, she whispered in his ear “I curse you. The next time you meet a woman from the suburbs, you are slowly going to turn into her ideal companion. It’ll teach you some manners and respect.”

Nicholas laughed as she slowly walked away. He got back into his car and sped away to Alinea.

He parked his car and was walking inside just as a young woman was walking out, crying. He tried to avoid her, but they accidentally bumped into each other.

“Oh I am so sorry. My boyfriend just dumped me. I came in all the way from Elgin and I thought he was going to propose, but he dumped me!” She started cring again.

Nicholas didn’t know how to respond, so he just muttered sorry and kept walking into the restaurant.

He greeted Annabelle and sat down. He had arranged to have the ring be presented as part of dessert. As they talked all through dinner, Nicholas felt off. He couldn’t get comfortable. Everything Annabelle kept talking about bored him. He just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him and decided he wasn’t going to propose. He called the waiter over while she was in the bathroom and got him the stop the proposal. After finishing dinner, he parted ways with her and went home.

As he sat in his living room, he felt this weird urge to drive out to Elgin. He couldn’t shake the feeling so he decided to do it, and went into his room to change. He grabbed his cubs jersey and jeans, but for some reason he tucked his jersey into his jeans. He had to admit it looked dorky, but didn’t untuck it.

He got into his car and drove out to the Elgin. He didn’t know where he was going so after driving around passing house after house, he went downtown and ended up at a bar. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, even though he normally got a martini. The game was on and he was enjoying it even though he rarely watched sports because he was always working.

After a while a young woman sat down next to him. They started talking and they had a really good time. He knew he should go home and call Annabelle, but he was having a good time. Hours passed and suddenly it was time for the bar to close. He paid for her drinks and they walked out. They ended up kissing goodnight and he got back into his car. Only when he got in, did he realize the woman was the woman he had run into hours earlier in the city. He couldn’t believe it. He drove back into the city and went to bed.

Weeks passed and Nicholas changed. Annabelle kept calling him but he dodged all of her calls. His performance at work went downhill. For some reasons, nothing was making sense. He stopped going to the gym and he started gaining weight. He even let his facial hair grow in more. Every time he looked in the mirror, he thought he was starting to look more like his father. Finally his boss came into his office and told Nicholas he had to take some time off of work. He needed rest. Nicholas realized he was right and went home.

A week passed and Nicholas didn’t leave his apartment at all. Finally he felt the urge to go out and went to put on some suitable clothes. However nothing fit. He had gained so much weight that he was no longer a 32 waist. He found some sweatpants and decided to go shopping to get some clothes that would fit. On instinct, he drove out to the suburbs and went shopping at Kohls. It seemed to go by in a whirlwind and he found himself back home with bags and bags of clothes. As he looked through the bags, he realized everything he bought was not fashionable. It was all dad attire. He pulled out a a polo shirt and some cargo shorts. He laid them on the bed and started laughing. This was not him at all. It was something he thought some dad out in the suburbs would wear.

Then something came over him. Some insane urge to put on the clothes. So he stipped down. First he put on a white undershirt. Then he slipped on the polo shirt and buttonened one button. Then he put on the cargo shirts and tucked in his polo shirt. He grabbed a brown belt and cinched it around his waist. Then he grabbed a pair of white socks that he bought and put them on and pulled them all the way up. Then he slipped on a pair of sneakers and grabbed a baseball hat. He stood in front of the mirror and laughed. With his weight gain, and with his beard grown out, and with these clothes on, he could have passed for some suburban dad. He started laughing and then his body seized up.

Suddenly, Nicholas felt everything in his brain shifting. Thoughts of ads and revenue were replaced with electrical knowledge and wiring. Late nights at the office were replaced with thoughts of relaxing in a recliner with a beer watching sports. Weekends spent at the club were replaced with thoughts of grilling for the neighbors and mowing his lawn. Finally thoughts of Annabelle were replaced with thoughts of the woman he met at the bar, Natalie Richards. Nicholas suddenly snapped out of it. He looked around his trendy highrise apartment and knew that it was all wrong. He didn’t belong here. He belonged in the suburbs. He grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove back to Elgin. For some reason he knew exactly where Natalie Richards lived. He got out the car, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. She answered the door.

“Hi Natalie, it’s Nick Fletcher. You may remember we met at the bar a few weeks ago. While I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and was just wondering if you would like to go on a date?”

“Oh Nick, that’s so unexpected. Yes, I would love to. Just give me a few minutes to get ready! And don’t you look cute!”

Nick stood outside and waited for Natalie. He struck up a conversation with some neighbors about the cubs performance. Time flew by and Nick and Natalie went on there date. Everything was perfect.

15 Years Later

Nick couldn’t believe how the years had flown by! The very next day after his first date with Natalie, he put his condo on the market and quit his ad job. He broke up with Annabelle and found a place out in Elgin. He also started his own electrician business with all the knowledge he had somehow gained out of nowhere. After six months of dating, Natalie and Nick got engaged, and six months later, they got married. Every part of Nick’s old life was gone. He no longer dressed in trendy clothes. He didn’t keep up with everything going on in the world. He wasn’t concerned about being at the top of his game. He just wanted a good stable homelife for himself, his wife, and his future family.

Nick and Natalie quickly got to business and had four wonderful kids, Michael, Jacob, Elizabeth, and little Nick Jr. They had to buy a bigger house in the suburbs and that was okay by them. There was now room for a pool out back and a ping pong table in the basement. Sure it was more expensive, but the business was doing well, and he could always save money other places. Anything to make his family happy was worth it. Yes he had gained more weight, and yes his hairline was receding, but he was happy. He had a good, steady middle class job, a good house in the suburbs, and a family who loved him. What could be better?!

#age progression #male body transformation #beer gut #beard #stereotypical dad #balding #suburbia #suburban dad #dad style

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andraxicated · 11 months

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Pairings: blade x reader | jing yuan x reader Synopsis: After a tragedy that consumed two of his companions, the face that he secretly longed for unexpectedly appeared before him once again. But this time his heart is filled with hate. Tags: angst | stellaron hunter! reader | enemies to lovers | past tragedies a/n: can I say the stellaron hunters are the coolest faction ever. like its where badass bitches belong! | i'll release jing yuan's route some time later lmaoo i'm so bored i do shit like this | trying out my favs with fav/popular tropes while i still have the brain

During that time when Blade got caught by the Xianzhou, you felt like your heart leaped out of your chest as soon as you heard the news from Kafka, who was sporting a rather laid-back smile.

"What? Don't look at me like that. Bladie is going to be fine. He's a big guy now." she said while going through your own collection of coats, something you picked up while shopping with her and the guy that follows behind like a guard dog.

He always looked at you with a scowl when you were a new recruit. Simply speaking, if looks could kill, you'd be dead long before this unserious turn of events...where Kafka also got caught. Yet this time upon silently watching the fiasco from somewhere, you're not the least bit worried. How could you when the woman herself was smiling like a maniac as she was caught by the master diviner. You seriously think it's time for you to leave this group of wild lunatics who casually gets taken as prisoners.

As you sigh and leave, Kafka's voice suddenly rings in your ear.

"Be patient, Elio will talk to you soon about a very important mission."

A mission that entails "saving" her but unfortunately, Blade had escaped and is standing before you with the usual expression on his face. Sure, this guy probably carries a lot of baggage but you can't help but feel uncomfortable with him. Especially when a little fight occurs between the two of you about who gets to save Kafka.

"What are you doing? Elio tasked me with this. I met him!"

"..."

Then he suddenly takes off while you follow after him, taking down enemies behind like some kind of sidekick while he attempts to take the spotlight of appearing before the trailblazers. But of course, you don't let him. You remain firm in doing what Elio told you, glaring at Blade while holding off the pursuers together.

You roll your eyes as he acts a little goofy in your sight, acting all charismatic with his sword drawn and all that. You even failed to hold your laughter with the way he dove, quickly pulling out your phone to snap a photo of Blade, then sending it to Silver Wolf because you're too scared of the consequences if you dare send it to the group chat. Blade might actually kill you if that happens.

look at him, he looks so stupid

But unbeknownst to you, the general himself saw you that time, and for him, it seemed like everything stopped and faded into the background. Your swaying hair and glowing eyes were what stood out at first. But then—you also had a face that eerily resembled someone from his past.

It is now revealed to the Xianzhou that the Stellaron Hunters aren't threats. You had no reason to come back to the Luofu anymore, it's all up to their alliance on what to do with the problem they're currently facing. The Stellaron Hunters had done their part as Kafka had said, but before you could board the spacecraft, you suddenly voiced out your decision—or rather, Elio's decision for you.

It felt ridiculous, really, listening to someone and doing whatever they tell you like a dog. It didn't feel good to you but as soon as you landed in the Luofu, something pulled you to stay there just as Elio had said.

"I'm staying. You guys should go ahead."

Kafka turned to you with a little smile on her face, seemingly understanding the situation. But surprisingly, Blade stiffly turned and had an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed mad—his furrowed eyebrows were a clear indication.

"Why?!" he's a man of few words but this single question made his voice akin to a roar. Even Kafka turned and boarded the craft, leaving you and Blade alone.

"Why not? Elio told me." You lied, he never told you to stay. Yes, he had an influence with his persuading words. But naturally, you'll take this route to feed on your curiosity because it always feels like there are missing pieces inside you. "I'll be staying here and that's final. It's none of your concern." You said while crossing your arms and Blade's eyes squinted.

You saw that he has his fists clenched, veins popping out as you raised your brows, also getting mad at whatever show he was putting on.

"What is it to you? Can't the Stellaron Hunters function without me?" And when he doesn't reply, you just roll your eyes and waved to leave.

Blade watches you go farther and farther until you're a dot in his sight, just like the moment when you followed after the woman who made him suffer over and over again. Your cold lifeless eyes and your face lined with blood as you watched the life drain out of him will forever be a memory that haunts him.

You weren't one of them. But when he saw you once again in this lifetime, he decided...that you'll also have to pay the price.

#ok bye im tired #who did this to you is coming soon #i refuse to remove that from the narrative #honkai star rail headcanons #blade x reader #blade x reader angst #blade x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #honkai star rail #hsr angst #hsr x reader #blade x y/n #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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salt-and-a-dash-of-pepper · 1 year

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My Favorite Moments in God of War: Ragnarok

[Inspired by my favorite moments in God of War 2018]

Spoilers

- Watching Atreus slowly break through the fog with a fresh kill that he hunted himself, a head or so taller than we’d last see him, and clearly much more confident in himself.

- Atreus and Kratos’s immediate display of affection for each other, in stark contrast to the previous game, with Kratos gripping his son’s shoulder in acknowledgement and Atreus smiling to his father.

- Mimir “sitting” inside of the house, on a pillow with a candle next to him and a book to read and a nice pipe to smoke. He clearly has become part of the family.

- The fear in Kratos’s voice when he searches for Atreus’s after Fenrir’s death

- OH FUCK A HUGE BEAR

- OH SHIT THIS HUGE BEAR IS ACTUALLY BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF KRATOS. HOW CAN A BEAR GO TOE-TO-TOE WITH KRATOS

- OH F U C K IT’S ATREUS

- Kratos shouting Atreus’s name as he lies limp in the snow and you see, for just a moment, Kratos wondering if he has once again killed his own child with his own hands.

- Thor just casually stopping by their house and pouring them some mead

- The way Thor just launches Kratos, just like his brother did in the game before

- The way the ground crackles like thunder when Thor slams his foot down

- Thor shocking Kratos back to consciousness to continue the fight

- The frozen lightning bolt that stays for the rest of the game

- Sindri and Atreus being besties

- Tyr finally standing straight once Kratos snaps some sense into him and he’s towering over everyone

- Atreus constantly messing up when he’s trying to bond with Angrboda

- Atreus TURNING INTO A WOLF

- Thrúd

- Just all of Thrúd

- “What do I call you?”

- Atreus running into Kratos’s arms and staying there, holding tight, face buried in his dad’s chest even when Kratos lets go

- Kratos’s gentle “What has happened?”

- Kratos standing up for his son when all of the other companions tell him how much of a massive fuck up it was to release Garm

- Fenrir, now resurrected in Garm, and his floppy wittle ears

- “I am sorry.”

- “Do not be sorry. Be better.”

- The bar fight back in Asgard

- Thor actually listening to Atreus and being affected by it. The visible shame Thor felt. Atreus’s honest desire to help.

- Ingrid saving Atreus

- “Which way are we headed?”

- “In the direction of deer.”

- Sindri’s entire character arc, starting from a loveable comic relief character to a bitter, vengeful brother in mourning, unrelenting in his rage towards Atreus and Kratos

- “I AM RAGNAROK.”

- Thrúd and Atreus making back up in Asgard during Ragnarok

- Atreus pushing his father out of the way during the blast in a final attempt to save him from his prophesized death

- “Does it scare you?”

- “Yes.”

- “That is why you must do it.”

- The HUG

- Kratos finally crying openly when he sees what his wife painted for him at the back of the mural

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #gow #gowr #kratos #atreus #mimir #freya #feye #thrud #thor #odin #tyr #sindri #brok #fenrir #norse #god of war ragnarok spoilers #god of war spoilers #gowr spoilers

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confusion-star · 5 months

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Dan heng x reader

Lingering moment

Today fated at last. .. Across the Aeons and the stars.. You finally died.

The moment of your death was no news towards others.. Especially not to dan Heng.. Dan Heng... Your friend, your lover.. Your home...

Home... "Home will always be whenever we are together" is what you would say.. But you were gone.. No longer around to see him, to see them..

"Dan Heng." Himeko held his shoulder, he didn't say a word. Himeko nodded and left him be. The funeral was held during a special day, your anniversary. Dan Heng held onto your favourite flowers, grown and fresh just by him. Even the stellaron hunters came by to see your death.

Despite blade's longing for it.. He knew you were a great companion to all of them. Despite all of their wrongdoings you never hated them and helped them in a way. Sneak out sessions with silver wolf, shopping with Kafka, and even death talks with blade.. It was a shame you had left them.

Dan Heng had forgotten when your death had started. One moment he was in your arms, the next you were in his. You were just a grasp away and he failed.. He failed. Failed. Failed...

The first month was hard, he didn't eat until he was forced to, became even more silent, locked himself in your room, and wouldn't stop giving you simple notes.

The second month was a bit better, he came out a little more, ate regularly, talked a bit more and went into your room less. But even so, everyone could see the hollow in his eyes.

A knock was on the door when he was looking into your room "who is it?" He said with hidden annoyance "dan Heng, I found a letter for you" himeko said while sliding in some mail under the door for him. He picked it up.

---

From : [name]

To : Dan heng

---

Dan Heng slowly opened it, afraid it might break like a gentle glass. He squeezed the paper as he read through the words

----

Dear dan Heng.

You might have noticed that by the time you've received this letter. I may have already died. A pity, I had wished a long life with you.. I know how you'd react to this "[name], stop playing around" and so on and so forth. I loved every moment with you. The way you would cup my cheeks, the way you would slowly kiss me through the maple trees.. Oh how I've missed you.. But you've missed me more..

Remember the day where you first board the express? It was a delightful day.. The day you found a home.. Home.. Home will always be wherever you and I are together.. But I cannot be your home forever dan Heng..

You love me right? Then grant me my last wish. Live on a life without me dan Heng.. Don't hold back the things you want to do just because you miss me.. Because I would be heartbroken to see you like that...

XOXO hellebore.

----

"Dan Heng! What are you reading?" March exclaims as she tries to grab the paper "It's nothing of concern, March." Dan Heng puts the paper back in the envelope leaving March and the trailblazer dumbfounded. Right.. Your death was only a year ago

"Well... Whatever. Dan heng, Mr. Yang sent us to tell you we found a new recruit" the trailblazer says as they played their game. Dan Heng nodded, and kept putting his other files away. "We'll send the new recruit here, so you'll be able to have a little chat" March says as they both ran out of the room

Dan Heng scrolls back to the memory file you both had created for yourselves, one where he first was on the express, the first date, the second date, first month anniversary, your birthday, and "and you've kept your promise.."

Dan Heng turned around to see.. You.. "I'm back..." You smile.

-------

Hellebore flowers usually grow next to maple trees. And it is symbolized to be a meaning of peace, serenity and tranquility.

#dan heng angst #honkai star rail #hsr dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng #gender neutral reader #gn reader #hsr #hsr men #x reader

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lazyneonrabbitt · 5 months

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The softer the skin the sharper the teeth.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested: Fic request: WereDaryl and Glen find a she wolf (in human form) out and talk to her about coming to the prison. She and Daryl are mates

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A freshly skinned and eaten deer carcass let the two men know this house had recent visitors.

"Fuck.." Glenn's voice dragged on as he slumped through the hallway back where the archer who accompanied him was fishing some painkillers out of the deepest end of a cabinet.

"Whatcha whinin' about this time? Forget ta give yer wife a goodbye kiss?" Daryl's face held a teasing grin as he stood up and showed off his finds.

"Nope. But now I'm seriously confused because there's a neatly taken apart deer in the kitchen, but also still unfound painkillers here?"

Daryl stalked past his companion and into the kitchen, inspecting the leftovers noticing none of it had even slightly dried out and the person who carved it couldn't be far away. "Ya check the area, Imma head upstairs."

Your hiding space upstairs was probably the worst idea you ever had. Hidden away in the bathtub, praying the wolf downstairs wouldn't sniff you out. There were two people on your trail. One was human, it was faintly there underneath a heavy cloak of the dead. The only reason you knew these weren't dead was because you heard them talking.

Now, the other one was the one you were terrified of. You praised your late father for teaching you to hide your scent and appear human to even the most skilled of hunters.

The wolf that stalked around the lower floor had no intention of hiding his identity. If there was any other creature around they were gonna know what he was which meant he was strong. Weaklings hid while the strong ones paraded around their might.

And in all honesty it was working for him. His scent was ...Oh no, no no not gonna get attracted to the first male wolf you met since the world went to shit.

You kept yourself hidden for as long as possible, which wasn't long at all as the shower curtain was torn down and the creature revealed itself.

You raised your hands in defeat but couldn't help to give him a once over from the gorgeous blue eyes behind messy brown locks to the dirt covered muscles and the crossbow currently pointed at your head.

"I travel alone. I don't want trouble."

Luckily Daryl didn't want trouble either.

He also knew you weren't lying. There was no scent of any other people on you, he made sure to double check. And then triple check, and one more time for good measure. He couldn't help it, you smelled so damn good.

“Can take ya home with us.” The words came without a second thought, same with you accepting his offer.

When Glenn came back from his quick area check he was shocked to see Daryl with a random woman, seeming to be friendlier that he had been with anyone in a long while. He found it strange, but was happy to see the other survivor they stumbled upon wasn’t a threat.

“She coming with us?” Glenn asked question after question before a round of introductions was done and you all went on your way back to the prison.

After you went through your introduction again with the leader of the group and then a couple more times with other people who came to say hi to you.

“Daryl,” carol came up to the archer when he returned from checking the fence. “Why did you bring the girl here?” She glanced at the prison entrance where you were getting rid of piled up walkers.

Daryl gave her a look like he had no clue what she was talking about, looking your way as he talked.

"Wouldn't ya have taken her in? Was all alone 'n Glenn agreed." He turned his attention back to his best friend who was way too nosey for her own good. "Why're ya askin' anyways? She do somethin'?"

Carol only laughed at the horrible way Daryl was hiding his truths.

"Oh, Pookie.." She placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "If you were showing your tail it'd be wagging like a little puppy staring at a plate of ribs."

Daryl scoffed and looked down, the skin of his thumb chewed to shreds already. "She also turned down my cookies, saying she's allergic to chocolate and I'm pretty sure I saw her snack on raw leftover meat yesterday." Her smirk was clearly one of having caught her friend's true intentions. "Sounds pretty familiar, huh doggie?"

Daryl only answered in grumbles as Carol smacked his arm. "You have a crush on her. You found a lady wolf and you're head over heels but too scared to admit it." Her voice went quiet at the last bit, not wanting to draw attention to Daryl's love struggles.

Daryl just kept quiet, letting her words sink in and weigh his options. He had to be honest and admit he had no idea why his wolf tried to tear out of his skin every time he got close to her, howling like crazy and making it barely possible to focus on anything.

"Want me to talk to her? I might be able to carefully let her know we're all okay with non-humans." Truly she was curious about what you thought about Daryl.

Before Daryl could even think up an answer Carol had decided to go relieve Maggie of corpse duty and have a chat with you. "I'll report back later, see ya Pookie." She winked at him on her way down the field as Daryl could only stand and watch, knowing not even he could change her mind.

"Hey Maggie!" Carol's voice reached the girls easily. "Hershel was looking for you, I'll take over so you can go see what he needs."

Maggie thanked her for coming to fetch her and said waved you goodbye as she walked off and Carol took her place.

"You lie." A simple statement made it clear you weren't in the mood. "I heard you and Daryl talk. And it's not what you think it is. He doesn't have a crush on me." You hauled another corpse onto the burn pile as you went on with your talk as Carol was only getting more confused now. "I went with him because we're supposed to be together. I thought that's why he asked me to come here but he hasn't made a move yet so I kept my distance as well.” There was a clear sadness in your eyes now as you looked back up at Carol. “I guess his family never taught him the signs of meeting your mate..” carol knew that word, maybe not entirely in the right context, but she got the general idea.

“Sweetie, Daryl knows nothing about relationships, human or werewolf. He got bitten and didn’t have anyone to teach him anything.”

This time it was your turn to be confused. Daryl was a bitten wolf? You were always under the assumption they were weaker and lesser than born, pureblood werewolves like you but then again, you had never met one before since your parents were very strict about who they let into their pack.

A laugh left your lips once you realized you had been an idiot all this time. Your mate who you were so desperately waiting for to make a move, didn’t even know he was supposed to. All those nights of your wolf making you dream up these scenes of you finally presenting yourself to him so you could be be mated properly.

“Well, why don’t you do that then, if Daryl doesn’t know how to make the first move.” Her voice made you quite literally jump up in surprise. Did you say all of that out loud? “Did I say all of that out loud?” Carol nodded and you begged for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Your face turning beet red as you stammered out a response. “I.. It’s not something you do when others are around..” Fidgeting with the handle of your knife you still couldn’t believe you mentioned that to a human. “It’s.. Intimate. Something for after you’ve, I don’t know the human terms. We meet, learn we are mates and then after properly introducing our packs we …mate.” You look at her, hoping you made at least some kind of sense. “So when you say you mate, you mean you two have sex, right? As the last bit of your relationship ritual?” A bright smile makes its way onto your face and you nod, letting her know she got it right.

“Is Daryl still around? You can smell him if he is, right?” You nodded again, pointing towards the closest wall that surrounded the outside kitchen area. “He’s probably trying to listen in on us. Why?” Carol was one with plans for everything. On the spot she’d come up with solutions or tryouts for any issue you found yourself having. She just smiled and turned around before taking a deep breath and called out for the archer to come over, stating she needed help with heavy lifting.

Reluctantly Daryl made his way over to the two women at the far end of the field. “Ya don’t need help, so what’s it?” He looked between the two of you.

“I’m sorry for staying away from you and making you think I disliked you.. I really didn’t mean to.” Daryl didn’t understand where the current confession came from, but Carol must have set you up to this. “I really want to talk in private, if that’s okay with you.”

A hesitant nod came before he responded with a soft ‘yeah’.

Carol took this as her cue to leave and make sure no one would bother you here at the fence for a while. “Go talk, lovebirds.”

“Do you know what mates are, Daryl?” You sounded so childish and you hated it, feeling like you had to teach the pups in your pack about the whole ordeal, but instead of pups it was your adult mate who never learned from another wolf. “S’what mah head’s been howlin’ at me every time yer near me. Makes me wanna claim ya.”

You cover your mouth as a laugh spills from your lips before you get a chance to stop it, but nodding as well. “Yeah okay that’s a healthy response.” You took a step closer to him and took his hand, looking him in the eyes. “I want you to.. Claim me, as you say.” You bit your lip and blushed like a little girl, feeling so weird to be making the first move. You noticed him sniffing around as soon as you had stepped closer to him and found the action to be adorable. He was absolutely clueless to a point where you had to spell everything out for him. Yes he was an almost perfect hunter and possibly the most terrifying werewolf you’d ever met in terms of strength and might, but he knew nothing about the rest of his instincts. “Can’t get enough of my scent, huh?” Your soft voice sent shivers down his spine. Your hand reached up to pull his face into the crook of your neck. He took a long whiff and growled against your skin. “Why?” He asked against your skin as he kept his face buried in your neck.

“Because it’s how we find our mates. You know,” You pull away from him to look him in the eyes once again. “Our partners for life. The ones we have puppies with?”

He could only blink down at you. How had you so casually spoken the one thing out loud that had been haunting his filthiest dreams ever since he found you.

Your mouth hung open in awe as you realized what his frozen response implied. It also didn’t help he suddenly reeked of arousal at your last words.

“I’ll teach you all there is to know about being mates, yeah? Puppies is the last step. Giving me a kiss right now is the first.” You leaned back up as you talked sweetly at him.

“Ya really want this? With me?” The insecurity in his voice was so sad to you, you had to resist the urge to jump his bones right there. You were going to take this slow so he could learn and one day teach his sons how to properly court a lady.

“I want this with you, Daryl. Only you. No one else.” You nudged his cheek with your nose, returning his sweet gesture of taking in his scent and growling softly before pressing your lips against his jaw.

A smile pulled at his lips and he pulled you flush against him so he could kiss you properly, his wolf howling in celebration as yours did the same now that your mate was finally yours.

He may still had to learn a lot, but you were willing to teach him everything you knew.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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