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harmoonix · 5 months

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𝓗 𝓐 𝓡 𝓜 𝓞 𝓝 𝓨

(Astrology Observations)

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~ Something like a dream has found me ~

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🌺 - Every element symbolize a mythical creature your rising sign is associated with

Earth Risings with Fairies 🌺 ~ Grace

Water Risings with Mermaids 🌺 ~ Rarity

Fire Risings with Dragons🌺 ~ Power

Air Risings with Angels 🌺 ~ Serenity

🌺 - Moon - Jupiter aspects (both harsh and positive aspects) have an inner wisdom, their energy feels like a vortex, very wise for their age

🌺 - Sun in Pisces, (Pisces Degrees 12°, 24° Or Sun in the 12th house) are attracted to mysticism, fantasies, fairytales etc... The Sun here has the energy of dreaming/dreamy

🌺 - Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio Risings = Heart of the ocean, they're untameable like the ocean waves, very innocent with dangerous shadows, very romantic like the ocean aswell

🌺 - Moon in water degrees (4°, 8°, 12°, 16°, 20°, 24°, 28°) love with their soul, their love is so precious and surrounded of peace. They have a calming inner harmony

🌺 - Rising/Ascendant under water degrees (4°, 8°, 12°, 16°, 20°, 24°, 28°) have the most peaceful eyes you'll ever seen, their eyes are so serene and magical, their eyes will get memorized in your head

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🌺 - Sun aspecting Chiron will heal your insecurities, like they can be the people to call out your insecurities and to help you overcome them

🌺 - Venus aspecting Neptune (Both harsh and positive aspect) = Hypnotizing beauty, both Venus and Neptune represent beauty and let me tell you when they're connecting eachother is like an explosion of cherry blossoms

🌺 - Chiron and Pisces/Chiron in 12th house can make you addicted of them, they are the type of people who are lonely or may like to stay alone but once you come up in their energy you can become addicted of them (Pisces effect)

🌺 - Capricorn Sun/Moon/Rising/Venus and Venus in the 10th house have ageless beauty, their beauty remains in time just like the old wine

🌺 - Asteroid Bella (695) in elements and your beauty

Bella touched by the air have an electric beauty, outstanding personality and they're very chatty in their words. They feel like the breeze of air in the morning, breath of life

Bella touched by the water have an mesmerizing beauty, appealing personality, something about them seems so magical and enchantix . Enchanting aura

Bella touched by the fire have an wild beauty, something that you'd feel in love when you see it, strong personality and wild at heart too

Bella touched by the earth have the gracious nature of a nymph, so feminine, so soft and elegant like a rose, natural beauty and classy vibes

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🌺 - Ascendant - Moon aspects (Both harsh and positive aspects) give snow white vibes and I don't mean the skin color, I mean the vibe and the energy of snow white, that pure and nostalgic aura of it, just like that are these aspects too, very kind, helpful, positive, dreamy.

🌺 - Out of all the signs Sagittarius and Pisces give the most tropical and exotic vibes they're like this friend of the group who's gonna teach you their traditions and culture

🌺 - Mercury in Cancer/Taurus/Pisces have very soft voices, their voice can be very feminine aswell no matter the gender for example boys with those signs in Mercury can have soft/sweet voices

🌺 - Part of Fortune in the 7th house are really blessed/fated with a very good relationship/marriage because the Part of Fortune shows where you're the most lucky

🌺 - Libra, Leo and Gemini Moons can be the type of friend who always has a prominent smell of parfume. It can be from their obsession with perfumes

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🌺 - Uranus aspecting the Midheaven (MC) can experience having unexpected moments in their career, on their career path or at their jobs (maybe as a surprise 🫢)

🌺 - Asteroid Hera [103] aspecting MC = Being seen as the loyal one in the relationship, the faithful one, the attention will be for you first

🌺 - Sun/Moon in the 5th house can make you very emotional and connected to kids, like that type of person who is always encouraged by kids

🌺 - Neptune and Jupiter in good aspects can make the native very spiritual/intuitive/ with these aspects you can often get lost in your dreams aswell

🌺 - Neptune aspecting the ascendant (both harsh and positive aspects) make the native stunning. They can literally look like some ocean/river nymph with those aspects

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🌺 - Uranus aspecting Mars > If you are from the lgbt community this can be an indicator of attracting the same gender. Especially men

🌺 - Sun in the 11th house have the cutest relationship ever with their friends. Is really very precious what they have with eachother

🌺 - Virgo Sun/Moon/Risings can nurture themselves with long baths, it can be a nurturing method to escape the reality and to focus on yourself for a bit

🌺 - Virgo Mercury or Mercury in Virgo Degrees (6°, 18°) can really bring any topic in conversation. Like jumping from one topic with another and at the end you can forget what you were talking about

🌺 - Sagittarius Moon/Moon in the 9th house give the vibe of Tarzan/Mowgli because of their explorer spirit (If you have this placement and you like these shows it makes more sense). Applying if you also have moon in Sag Degrees (9°, 21°)

🌺 - Cancer/Moon in the 7th house is such a cute placement to have if you're looking for a cute relationship or partner

🌺 - Gemini/Mercury in the 5th house can make the person very sensual in talking and especially at flirting. They can also talk dirty at some points

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🌺 - Aquarius Moon or Moon in Aquarius Degrees (11°. 23°) may like to stay alone/or to be left alone when they are in that type of mood, because they can feel way better alone than with people who stress them out

🌺 - Lilith h12 or h13 aspecting Moon can be the type of person who comforts you when you're low emotionally. Because they can understand you 100% perfectly

🌺 - Neptune aspecting the ascendant are really very sensitive/soft people. And there is nothing wrong with that. I actually think these type of people are the kindest people ever but they're born into a evil world who may hurt them at a soul level

🌺 - Saturn in the 4th house/Saturn in Cancer are the type of people to comfort you when you need to nurture yourself the most because even with all the chaos in their lives. They still have the most peaceful soul

🌺 - Moon in the 2nd house loves sweets, you can always see them sneaking to eat some, they're usually very picky when it comes to sweets tho

🌺 - Moon feels very chill at 3°, 15°, 27° degrees because it makes them be the most aware of the things that happen around them. They have a very strong sense of hearing aswell

🌺 - I wanna give a shout-out to the people with Cancer Lilith and Lilith in the 4th house because they were raised in toxic families/households and still manage to smile. They're so strong

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🦋 This post is about harmony, the thing that puts our world to challenge, because unfortunately not everyone can live in harmony but we can have this harmonious energy in our lives 🦋

🦋 Have a very beautiful day to everyone reading my observations, have a blessed day 🦋

▂▃▅▇█▓▒░𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚡░▒▓█▇▅▃▂

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#astrology #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #fyp tumblr #astrology fyp #horoscope #ascendant #venus #asteroid #asteroid observations #asteroids

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lovelytsunoda · 5 months

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i saw mommy kissing santa claus // alex albon

summary: alex has to keep up the illusion that santa claus is real, and every year gets more extreme than the last. he's got footprints to put on the living room floor and cookies to eat and stocking to fill . . . and at this rate, he's going to wake up the whole house.

pairing: alex albon x wife! reader

warnings: set in the future, so alex is about 30, children ( their names are gabriel and isabella ), gabriel sees his mommy kissing santa claus (who's really just alex in a festive hat), honestly it's just fluff guys (aside from one joke about having george shove alex off a cliff if she left him to go out with santa claus)

it was the night before christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even alex albon's five cats. his wife was asleep in their bed upstairs, and the kids were down for the count, wrapped in layers of blankets as alexander tiptoes down to the living room, where the christmas tree was set up in the bay window.

he turned on the tree lights, slipping a santa hat over his dark heair and opening the walk-in closet to find the large canvas bag that he and his wife had filled with christmas presents.

above the fireplace hung four stockings. stockings that his wife had painstakingly bedazzeld for each member of the family: alex, y/n, gabriel and isabella.

he rubbed his palms together, looking at the pilsbury cookies on the coffee table.

he had some work to do.

meanwhile, y/n albon was stirring in bed, panic setting in as she groggily opened her eyes, finding her husband's side of the bed empty.

"alex?" she mumbled, slowly sitting up. a zit on her back had popped during the night, a small spattering of blood hardening on the back of her cotton nightdress.

she heard a crash coming from the basement, and she sprung out of the bed, her mama bear instincts kicking in and telling her to go and check on the kids.

first she checked on isabella, her youngest. she three-year-old had just migrated form crib to toddler bed, the small piece of ikea furniture made from stunning white wrought iron. the little girl was peacefully asleep, nestled under her snoopy blanket with a build a bear in her arms, three large stuffed animals watching over her from the foot of the bed.

she backed out of the room, closing the door before she moved further down the hall, past the sim room, to the white door decorated in glow-in-the-dark stars. gabriel was curled up in his twin bed, his head barely poking out from over his Spider-Man duvet, a stuffed reindeer clutches in his arms. a karting trophy sat on his dresser, next to a picture of him and his dad when he won his first race.

satisfied that both her kids were still soundly asleep, she set out to find her husband.

“alex?” she called out, pulling her bathrobe tight around her body as she made her way to the main floor. “alexander, what the hell are you doing?”

alex knelt in front of the couch, shaking flour over a card stock cutout of a boot print. “baby? what are you doing awake?”

“honey, you knocked the lamp over.” she chuckled, picking the ikea lamp up off the floor and setting back in the side table. “what are you doing?”

“setting the scene for Santa’s visit, obviously.” Alex chirped, yanking away the card stock. “see, snowy footprints!”

y/n laughed, fingertips against her temple. “you know that once isabella sees those presents she’s going to run right through all of the work you just put in to those footprints.”

“it’s all about the fun, love” one of the cats mewled, nuzzling against alex’s thigh as he leaned towards the coffee table, holding up the square plate. “cookie?”

"darling, it's four in the morning." she laughed, picking up a reindeer cookie from the plate. "you know that you'll eventually have to tell the kids that santa claus isn't real, right?"

"or i could let them figure it out for themselves." alex reasoned, getting to his feet and pulling his wife close. "isabella is smart, she'll figure it out before her brother does. she takes after you."

"and gabriel takes after his father. some days, it's like having three children in this house."

"hey!" alex feigned hurt. "give me a hand putting the presents under the tree? i've got springsteen."

she laughed, kissing him softly. "if you put the springsteen on, you're going to wake the kids."

"not if we use my airpods." he winked, tossing her the bluetooth case.

she let the airpods connect, putting one in her right ear before passing the case back to alexander. bruce springsteen's 'merry christmas baby' began to play as they started to empty out the canvas sack, stacking the beautifully wrapped presents underneath the white christmas tree. alex was dancing, shuffling around on the hardwood in his socks and messing up a few of the flour footprints, causing his wife to laugh.

"alex, you're going to wake the kids." she reminded, giggling as she reached for his hands, allowing him to pull her in for a dance.

she rested her head against his chest, allowing her husband to sway side to side with her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"i'm so glad i met you. i love you, and i love our kids, and i love the life that i have created with you." alex whispered, still holding her close.

"i love you too." she hummed, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"mommy!"

alex and y/n startled, jumping and slipping apart, turning to face the stairs. gabriel stood in the middle of the staircase, white as a sheet as he clutched his stuffed reindeer.

"gabriel, honey, what are you doing awake?" y/n cooed, concerned as she walked over to her son.

"mommy, why were you kissing santa claus?"

she shot a glance at alex before taking her son's hand, walking up the stairs with gabriel as she tried to calm him down.

"sweetie, that wasn't santa claus. that was just your dad, he was tidying the living room for when santa comes to visit. we don't want santa claus tripping on any cat toys, do we?"

after she tucked gabriel back into bed, with his dinosaur nightlight switched on, she left the door open slightly, holding her robe tightly around her body as she watched him fall asleep through the crack in the door.

"who taught him that santa claus was a thirty year old thai man?" alex scoffed. "has he learned nothing from his aunties? do i look like i could eat eight billion plates of cookies in one night?"

y/n laughed, allowing her husband to hug her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "didn't your brother try and teach him that santa claus was an alien?"

"yeah, he did, didn't he." alex chuckled. "what did you tell him?"

"that you were just moving gucci's cat toys out of the way so that santa wouldn't trip. he thought i was cheating on you with saint nick."

"baby, if you left me for an aging, overweight white man and went to go live in the arctic and bake cookies all day, i'd have george shove me off a cliff."

she tilted her head up to face alex, thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. "we're doing a damn good job with these kids, aren't we?"

"yeah babe, we are. but soon they'll grow up, and then we'll be grandparents-"

"stop talking. you're going to make me feel old!"

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @thatsdemko @twinkodium

#alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #alex albon x y/n #the christmas collection 2023 #mini fic

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ghostlyfleur · 6 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

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merakiui · 7 months

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while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms.

They are hypnotic and deceptive.

They are predatory.

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have.

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?”

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment.

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

#meraki mumbles #fluffy floyd hours #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #he's so cute >w< i love floyb orz #okay now it's back to tmdg!!!#jade is going to kill me for writing about his twin when i should be writing him ;;;;

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

Text

CALL OF THE SIREN

PAIRING: siren!minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. fairytale!au CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.

NOTE: my step back into writing after a little break. please let me know what you think! this is my interpretation of a siren. i know some people write them as mermaid type creatures. i wanted to write more the bird type, pretty bird singing in a cage and never touched and all of that jazz. whatever, hope you enjoy!

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

“Would you just come for an hour or so? Please?” you friend asks, tugging on your arm and giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“You just go,” you whine. “I’ve just had a new shipment in, I really should—”

“It’s Sunday,” he interrupts. “Your books can wait,” she tugs you a little harder. “30 minutes.”

“45.”

Elsie was perhaps the only person you could call a real friend. She loved you, she’d proven that over and over throughout the years. Still, she was a very different person than you were. She sought out new faces and new company seemingly every hour of the day she had free.

“Why are you so obsessed with dragging me around like a sidekick?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this bookstore?” she retorts.

“Why are you so obsessed with that man?”

“What man?” she says, faking ignorance.

“Oh, come on.”

“Listen, you just have to meet him once, alright? It’s not—”

“It is that weird,” you correct before she can finish. “You and everyone else have lost your minds. I really don’t see how it’s possible for any man to—”

“You’ll see.”

You sigh. “Let me lock up.”

—

It’s as busy as the last time you’d been dragged to the monthly market. It always felt like the entire region descended onto the field far too small to accommodate them all. You weren’t used to crowds like this. Your days were happily spent in your village bookstore, room enough for your books and a small apartment out back.

“There!” Elsie exclaims.

A crowd surrounds a small stage, obscuring your view of whatever has captured their attention. Your friend grips your hand and tugs you so suddenly you barely manage to stay upright, ducking your head as she barrels through the sea of bodies. The bustling sound of the market fades as she pulls you to a stop. Her eyes are fixed on the small makeshift stage, constructed from various wooden crates stacked beside each other. He’s singing: the man on the stage. He stands there in front of you, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with his hair falling into his eyes. He’s pretty, you’ll give him that. But when you turn to speak to your friend, the look on her face makes the words stick in your throat. She looks transfixed. She looks like he’s offering her the world on a silver platter, holding it out to her with his bare hands.

A strange feeling bubbles up in your chest, like you should wrap your arms around her as if she might at any moment lunge onto the stage.

Then the singing stops.

“That’s him,” she breathes dreamily, still failing to pull her eyes from the man on stage.

“Thank you for coming,” the man on stage announces just before leaping off the stage and walking directly towards you. The crowd begins shuffling around, making their way to the small booth where they can offer their cash as a thank you for a clearly enrapturing performance.

“You looked away,” he says when he reaches you, like that means anything at all.

Your friend grabs your hand, as if she's afraid you might turn and run. “This is Minho,” she says. “He performs here every month. We uh—We had a drink last month and I said I’d bring my best friend next time.”

You tug your hand from your friend’s, a little amused by her clear infatuation. Then you hold it towards him, inviting the stranger to shake it. He doesn’t. Instead he looks down at it like you’ve just held up something rotten in his face.

“Minho doesn’t like touching people,” your friend explains, grabbing your hand again and saving you the embarrassment of letting it fall to your side.

“Right. Well, I uh— I enjoyed what little of your performance I heard. Your voice is nice.”

“Nice?” he says, cocking his head a little.

Nice wasn’t enough of a compliment for him? The man refuses to shake hands and has a big ego. Your brows draw together, growing confused at your usually very intuitive friend’s infatuation.

Elsie laughs, swinging your hands back and forth between you. “It’s heavenly, more like. Nice is a ridiculous way to describe it. Doesn’t it just… feel like it’s seeping into your chest? Like you could drown in it?”

The man—Minho—looks at you with anticipation, curiosity: like your answer is important.

“I—I mean, sure. I suppose.”

“Should we all get a drink? There’s a shake stall, just near the lake,” your friend says, pulling Minho’s eyes from yours as she leads you away.

—

The remainder of the day is uneventful. You stay an hour and your friend chats away with the strange man like a lovesick puppy while you make yourself sick on a far too large vanilla milkshake. Love gives people rose tinted glasses, you conclude that night as you fall into bed. He was pretty and he had a nice voice, but clearly your friend's view of him was magnified by her heart. Infatuation does that to people.

—

The gentle jingle of the bell above the door is one of those sounds you’d grown so accustomed to, you now barely heard it. It was background noise, like the sea birds or the crashing of the waves against the cliffs. You were so close to the cliffside here, it was the biggest selling point of the place. If you cracked your window open at night you could fall asleep to that sound. It was a stark difference to the car horns and sirens you’d grown up with.

“Excuse me?” a voice says, startling you from your reverie.

“Minho.”

“You remembered.”

“I’m good with names.”

He looks around the store, taking in the high shelves and the ladders installed to reach. “Yes, you’d have to be. Elsie told me you were… attached to this place.”

“I love it.”

He tilts his head a little, that look crossing his face again. You feel like you’re under a microscope.

You clear your throat, stepping down from the small step you carry around the store to reach difficult places. “Do you need help finding anything?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, gazing around the store lazily. “I don’t do a lot of reading to be honest. I could use a few recommendations.”

You brush your hands down your front. “Alright. What genres do you like?”

He shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin.

“You have to help me a little.”

“Give me three of your favourites.”

“We might not have the same taste.”

He shrugs again.

Okay, fine. He’d be buying either way.

He follows you around the store, a quiet shadow as you collect the first three books to come to mind. He’s quiet as he pays, placing his card down on the counter between you. Doesn’t like to be touched, you’re reminded. You slide the brown paper bag across the counter for him as you tuck his receipt inside.

“Here you go.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” he says casually as he scoops it off the counter.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing the question. “I’m sorry?”

“I know it’s an odd question.”

“Odd doesn’t—”

“Humour me.”

Elsie has a lot of explaining to do. “Sure. You’re pretty and your voice is heavenly. It seeps into my soul.”

He grins. “You’re lying.”

“Look, I think you’re strange. You… make me feel uneasy and—”

“Uneasy?”

“Not in a bad way. I don’t feel.. unsafe. I just… feel like I’m missing something. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Not knowing something makes you uncomfortable,” he says, still grinning. It isn’t a question.

“Why are you here? You clearly didn’t come here to buy books.”

He juggles the brown bag into one hand so he can hold out his other towards you. “I came to shake your hand.”

“I thought you didn’t like to do that.”

“I don’t.”

“So why are you—”

“Humour me.”

You sigh, reaching out and grasping his hand in yours. He jolts as your palms connect, dropping the contents of the paper bag across the floor as he stumbles backwards. Okay, he really doesn’t like being touched. You round the counter to collect the books from the floor, cringing a little at the way one of the brand new paperbacks has landed.

It’s only when you’ve collected all three and righted yourself you realise Minho is standing deathly still, silent.

You raise your eyes to him. He looks shaken. You can’t help feeling sorry for him. “I don’t know what—I don’t know why you don’t like being touched, but it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay to protect yourself.”

You place the bag at his feet and take a step away from him. “Did you—Did you feel anything?”

You frown.

“When we touched,” he clarifies.

“Like what?”

“Nothing. I uh—” he bends to collect the bag. “Thanks for the books.”

And with that, he’s gone. The small bell announces his exit.

—

It’s days like these, with the sun high in the sky and the gentle spring breeze, that you’re so grateful for life you can hardly contain it. You close the shop and take the small walk to the cliffside bench with a book tucked under one arm and a thermos in your chilled hands. She’s waiting for you there. She knows weather like this draws you out.

“The princess emerges from her tower, at last!” Elsie practically shouts as you lower yourself onto the bench beside her.

“No shouting on days like this.”

“Is that coffee?” she asks, gesturing to your thermos.

“Tea,” you correct, passing it to her before she can ask.

“Mm, prefer coffee,” she says just before taking a healthy sip.

“You should’ve brought some then.”

You’re both quiet for a while after that, opening your book to read silently as Elsie gazes out over the ocean, thermos grasped between her hands.

“Do you know something?” she says eventually. “I think you were right about this place.”

You place your book by your side as she passes you the half empty thermos. “Was I?”

“I know I tease you for it. But I get it. Why you spend all your time here, I mean. It’s nice.”

“Nice?” you laugh. “What an understatement.”

She turns towards you. “Oh, I'm the one understating the beauty of things now?”

“Don’t start.”

“I know he came to the store.”

“People do that when they want to buy books.”

“That man doesn’t need to go to a store to buy books.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Come out with me tonight and I’ll show you.”

“Where?”

She grins.

—

“What the hell is this?”

“Minho’s home,” your friend answers.

“Elsie, this is a fucking palace. What the hell is he doing busking at the local market?”

She shrugs. “I asked him the same thing. Come on,” she says, attempting to lead you towards the imposing doors.

“I wasn’t invited,” you point out.

“I have a plus one.”

The sound of chatter and laughter floods through the door as it opens. Half the town are his dinner guests by the sound of it. Elsie pulls you through the stately rooms, each with high ceilings and decadent carpets.

When she passes you a drink, you still haven’t spotted him. You recognise faces from your store, people who have dropped by once or twice on a lazy afternoon and others who are regulars. Members of the local book club practically keep you afloat.

“Is this a celebration?”

“No, he just holds these regularly apparently. Has a private concert before dinner.” She tips back her head and finishes her champagne in one go. “That’s where they’re going now. Come on, let’s get good seats.”

It’s the kind of place you’d read about in fantasy novels, with high ceilings and chandeliers and carpets that could be worth more than your shop. It’s utterly ridiculous. A tiny sliver of embarrassment sneaks its way inside you at the idea of someone that had all this stepping into your store. You stamp it under your boot before it can settle. Your store is everything. You’d never been prouder of anything in your life.

When the man of the hour emerges, the room quiets. People shift in their seats, leaning ever so slightly towards the stage where he stands. This stage is nothing like the one at the markets. It’s a permanent, elaborate construction, raising him high enough that even those peaking their heads into the packed room from the very back can get a clear view.

Then he starts singing.

It’s just like the last time you heard him. It’s pleasant, beautiful even. But as you take in the faces of those around you, you get that frustrating feeling again: you’re missing something. He stands centre stage, lulling the entire room into a dazed wonder. You get the urge to climb on stage and shake him. Tell me what this is! But you don’t. You wait for him to finish, wait for him to release his captives.

Thirty minutes later Elsie takes your arm as you filter out of the room and towards the dining room, only stopping when Minho steps in front of you—blocking your exit.

“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asks, a polite smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

It sets your friend off on a speech that makes you want to pull her aside and give her a gentle slap across the face. Snap her out of whatever has taken root inside her brain.

“And you?” Minho finally asks.

“It was fine,” you answer. He didn’t need his ego fed.

He laughs. Laughs. Like the idea that you weren’t totally enraptured by him like a sort of admiring zombie was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Your eyes drop to his neck as you wonder how your hands would look wrapped around his throat.

“Elsie, they’ll be starting service now. May I have a word with my guest? Just for a moment.”

Your friend looks between you both, like she’s missing something obvious. You understand the feeling. Then she leaves with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

“You’re rich,” you announce after a moment of silence.

“Very observant.”

“How?”

“And blunt.”

“I don’t like not knowing things.”

“Yes, yes I know,” he smiles. Then he collapses into one of the empty chairs and looks around the room like he’s never seen it before, like it doesn’t belong to him. “People are… generous, with their donations. They like my voice.”

You scoff, collapsing into a chair across the aisle from him. “You expect me to believe all of this is just from… busking?”

“They really like my voice.”

“Yes, I know. Will you tell me why?”

“Must there be a reason?”

He takes a deep breath when you give him a pointed look before pulling himself to his feet and crossing the aisle towards you. You get the urge to run, but you don’t. You hold your breath instead as he kneels at your feet. He holds his palm up towards you, like he’s expecting a high five.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “If you hold my hand while I do.”

“You won’t fall over this time?”

“I'm much closer to the ground if I do.”

It’s a strange request, but everything about him was strange. You hate not knowing things. So you press your palm to his, watching his face for any discomfort. His eyes fix on where your hands connect as he folds his fingers to intertwine with yours. It’s far too intimate for someone you’d only met twice before, but you need answers.

“This will be… odd,” he says. “You’ll have to be open minded.”

You huff out a small laugh. “Yes, well I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

He smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“I’m cursed,” he says eventually. It’s blunt and plain, no room for doubting the seriousness of it. “I exist to tempt others, to lure them without ever being able to touch them.” He takes a deep breath, readjusting the way your hands are intertwined so he can rest them in your lap. “It’s a safety measure, I assume. No one can resist me so to counteract any complications that might create… touch is repulsive. To both parties. I sing and I tempt them with beauty… and they want me. They want me so badly they throw their money at me in the hope it’ll make me see them.”

“Cursed.”

You look down at your intertwined hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Okay so he’s either teasing you or he’s completely insane.

“I can prove it to you,” he says, seemingly interpreting the look on your face successfully. “If I must. It won’t be pleasant.”

“We’re holding hands,” you point out. You weren’t in pain.

“Yes,” he says with a small smile. “We are.”

“Well, doesn’t that disprove your… story.”

He squeezes your hand a little. “You aren’t lured in the same way. My voice is ‘fine’, as you put it. I’m pretty enough, but I’m not—”

“What’s your point?”

“Curses can be broken,” he says. “Surrounded by all those books and you’ve never read a fairytale?”

You want to shove him onto his ass and wipe the teasing smirk off his face.

“You’re a curse-breaker. Come to set me free.”

You yank your hand from his.

“Is this fun for you? Do you want me to fall for this story you're spinning and make myself a fool just for you to waltz into the dining room and laugh about it with your friends?”

He frowns. “No.”

“Why do you sing?” you ask. “If this is a ‘curse’ that you hate so much. Why set up these events to sing for them all?”

“I need it,” he says, brows still drawn together. “Or I'll die. I… feed from their adoration, or the curse does. It’s wrapped around me, yanking at my soul. I feed it or I die.”

The look on his face, the tormented glaze to his eyes. It’s too convincing. He’s either as good of an actor as he is a singer or he’s…

“How would you prove it?”

He pulls himself to his feet. “I would let someone touch me. Your friend, perhaps.”

“And what would happen?”

“She would… be upset. She’d be in pain.”

“It hurts?”

“It’s excruciating.”

“You can’t do it to me instead?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the exception, angel. I can’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“That’s what you feel like to me.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Alright.”

He’s quiet as you leave the room, as you leave his house. You pull your phone out to let Elise know you’ve left early. She’ll understand. You don’t like crowds.

—

It’s weeks before the small bell above your shop door signals his arrival. You’d almost managed to put him from your mind and then there he is, standing in your space with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“What do you want?”

He steps towards you. He looks nervous.

“I’d like to be free, angel.”

“I said not to call me that.”

“Right, sorry.”

You sigh, stepping down from the ladder to face him. “Okay, tell me what to do.” Humour him.

One corner of his mouth lifts up. “What?”

“How do I free you? Break the curse,” you say, gesturing at nothing in particular.

He looks around you, at the shelves crammed to bursting with books. “No fairy tales at all?” he questions. When you say nothing he redirects his attention to you again, suddenly looking a little more solemn. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fall in love with me, angel.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Oh alright, then,” you manage eventually. “Is that all?”

He isn’t laughing with you, you realise. It sobers you.

“I would really, really like to be free.”

“The fairytales you keep alluding to. Don’t they usually fall in love before the big curse is revealed? A little less pressure that way don’t you think?”

He pulls one hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his head. “It would feel… wrong. To spend time with you while keeping that from you. Wouldn’t you feel… used? If you did end up… feeling something for me and then discovering I had something more to gain from you.”

You frown. “Yeah, I guess I would. But if you want to be free that badly, why does it matter? You don’t know me.”

“Like I said, I can’t hurt you. It’s… maybe it’s part of it. I don’t know. I feel…” he trails off, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s strange,” he continues after a moment. “I’ve known about you, that someone like you existed out there somewhere. Someone who could fix me. I just—How long have you been here? How long have you had this place?”

“5 years.”

“5—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “Right.”

“How long have you been… like this?”

“6 years,” he says, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You’ve been here this whole time. This curse is cruel, I shouldn’t be surprised. I just—”

“Swear to me,” you interrupt, taking a small step towards him. “Swear to me this isn’t some elaborate joke. I don’t want to see anyone in pain. I don’t want you to have to prove this to me. I just… I need you to look me in the eyes and swear to me.”

He takes a hesitant step towards you as he lifts his hands from his pockets. “Is there someone you… someone you don’t like very much?” he asks, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “Someone you wouldn’t mind seeing getting a very short jolt of pain?”

“You said it’s excruciating. Is it that way for you too?”

He nods.

“No, there’s no one I’d want to feel pain.”

He sighs. “I want to prove it to you. I want you to be sure of me.”

“You’ll have to prove yourself worth trusting. If I'm going to love you, I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?”

He reaches slowly for your hand. You let him take it, lifting it up so he can inspect it. He traces his finger over your palm, tracing the lines that cross your skin. “I’ll do my best,” he whispers.

—

It doesn’t take you long to recognise his patterns of behaviour. He visits the shop regularly, finding some way to touch you in these small ways before he leaves. You can’t help but stay quiet as he does, afraid to interrupt him. You can see it, the way he gets comfort from your touch. You suppose if you’d been unable to touch another person at all for six years you’d be a little desperate for human touch as well. Your hands are the focus of his attention. You’re sure he must know them as well as he knows his own. He traces the lines on your palms, plays with the rings on your fingers, wraps his fingers around your wrists.

He’s replaced the local bookclub as your biggest customer. It’s not possible for him to be reading all the books he buys. Still, he comes in once a week to ask for more recommendations. You slip in the occasional test. A vampire romance or fifty shades of grey. He never comments on it. Not until today.

“Are you trying to hint at something?” he says from the lounge chair tucked into a corner of the store. He’d taken to spending time reading as you worked. It was the only evidence you had that he read at all.

“Hint at what?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Your kinks.”

You choke on your tea, slapping your palm against your chest to prevent the liquid from entering your lungs.

“I’m sorry?” you choke out.

“I’ve noticed your recommendations are getting a little… adult. Do you have a thing for BDSM?”

You duck around the corner to check for any quiet customers lingering between the shelves. “Would you be quiet?” you scold as you march towards him. One of your regulars is perusing at the back of the store.

“Come on, angel. Don’t be shy.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been reading them?”

“I liked the one with the priest. Forbidden fucking is exciting, isn’t it? Doing it where you shouldn’t—”

You slap your palm over his mouth. You can feel his grin form. “If you don’t shut up, I’m banning you from the store.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief but he nods. You release him before wiping your palm on your jeans.

—

It’s only a few months after that when you notice it. He’s your employee. You didn’t hire him and you don’t pay him but as you hand him the box opener so he can start taking stock of the next box you find yourself frozen with the realisation.

He frowns, pulling himself to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?”

He closes the box opener. “Well I was about to use this sharp thing to slice the tape from this box so I can take the books out.”

“Shut up.”

One corner of his mouth lifts up.

“You’re working here,” you point out.

“Am I?”

You nod. Silent.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You frown. “No.”

He smiles, sliding the knife open. “Then I’ll continue with the box, shall I?”

—

You stir awake at the gentle nudge against your shoulder. “Angel,” he whispers. “It’s late.”

“How late?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes as you uncurl your body from the unnatural position you’d fallen asleep in on the lounge chair.

“I closed an hour ago,” Minho says. He crouches at your feet, hair standing on all ends from where he’s dragged his fingers through it. You reach out to smooth it down.

“Thanks,” you say through a yawn.

“Why are you so tired?” he asks, reaching out to take your hand so he can trace patterns across it.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Any reason?”

You trace over his face with your eyes, taking in his long lashes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his upper lip. “Would you… be spending time with me if I wasn’t…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers.

Your eyes flick across his, the soft light from the lamp doing just enough to make the deep brown clear. He needed something from you. You’d barely known him a year and he was the strangest person you’d ever met. It was probably foolish to trust him, dangerous at the very least.

“I do,” you answer. “I… trust you.”

He rocks forward, bringing his head down to your lap so he can press his lips to your hand. He peppers little kisses across your skin and you tangle your free hand into the hair at the back of his head. It falls down the back of his neck now, longer than it’s ever been before.

“Keep me,” he mutters, just clear enough for you to make out. “Will you keep me, angel? Please. I can’t hurt you. I swear.”

“Okay.”

—

“What?”

You blink, finding Minho’s sparkly eyes fixed on you. He’s smiling, like you’ve missed something funny.

“You were staring,” he says.

You drop your gaze to the floor, feeling your cheeks warm.

His soft footfalls as he approaches are the only sounds in the store. It was a quiet day, heavy rain preventing many customers from venturing out. He arrives at the bottom of the ladder, holding it steady as you descend. When you turn he doesn’t remove his hands, caging you in.

“Am I pretty?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” he repeats with a small smile. “Have I grown on you?”

You fiddle with the tie on his hoodie as his fingers stroke through your hair. Grown on you felt like the wrong way to describe it. Inside you. He’d tangled himself with you and now you weren’t sure you could ever let him go. You’d spent a few sleepless nights imagining spending your days in the store without him. A small part of you was afraid. Afraid that if—when—you told him you loved him, he’d leave. Curse broken, needs fulfilled.

“A little,” you mutter, eyes fixed on his chest.

“Only a little?”

You look up into his eyes, then to his lips. “Would you leave if it was more than a little?”

“Hm?” he questions as he tugs a little on one of your earlobes.

“That’s what you’re here for isn’t it? You need me to—” you suck in a breath. “You need me to love you. Will you leave after that?”

He frowns, hand dropping to cup the side of your neck. It’s a comforting hold, his thumb stroking gently behind your ear. “Why would I leave?”

“I’m your curse-breaker, right? That’s my purpose? That’s what you need from me.”

“I don’t need anything from you, angel,” he says. It’s a little unfocused, like his mind is somewhere else. His thumb keeps stroking.“It’s been two months since I needed to sing. It let me go.”

You drop the hoodie ties and grip the fabric instead. “What?”

He offers you a small smile. “You freed me,” he whispers.

The curse is broken… and he’d stayed. “You’re still here.”

“Mm, do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer quickly before pulling him towards you, tasting him for the first time. He stumbles a little, humming into your mouth as he steadies himself. It’s a frenzied stumble around the store. You are hardly aware you’re moving at all before you find yourself pushed up against a wall of books.

“The store is open,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Don’t care,” you mutter before you grip his hair and pull his mouth back to yours.

He laughs, taking a large step backwards and detaching you with ease. “Yes, you do. I’ll be right back.”

You attempt to catch your breath as he locks up, dropping your head back against the books and closing your eyes. You loved him. You loved him and he knew and he didn’t leave you.

His finger traces your lips when he returns. “You’re smiling,” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter open. “You didn’t leave me.”

He frowns. “I was just locking up.”

You huff out a short laugh. “No, I mean… two months ago.”

“Ah,” he says before pressing his lips together and adopting an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Why didn’t I leave?”

You press your finger to his cheek. “Do you think I’m pretty?” you ask.

His eyes flick to yours, the teasing expression dropping off his face. “Angel,” he whispers. “You’re wrapped around my soul.”

You’re both quiet after that, little noises of pleasure the only sounds between you as he pushes you against the shelves. You snake your hands under his hoodie, pressing your hands to his skin. He’s so warm. He’d taken your hands shortly after you’d entered the store, cold and wet from the downpower. You’d frozen still as he lifted them to his mouth and breathed over them, warming them gently.

“Love touching you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So soft. You were worth it.” His lips move to the corner of your mouth. “I couldn’t touch anyone… for years and you were there at the end… a soft angel come to save me, hm? Let me feel you…”

He continues muttering the same way as he presses kisses across your skin. You snake your hands up his back, lifting his hoodie as you go. He barely detaches his lips from you for a second as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside.

The rain seems to get heavier as you’re consumed by him, offering you a curtain of privacy from the world. It feels completely safe, here with him, in your favourite place on earth. It's yours, this place, him. You bite into his neck, just enough to leave tiny marks in his skin. He grunts, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. “The angel bites,” he laughs as he slips his other hand up your thighs and under your dress.

“Stay here with me,” you gasp into his mouth as his fingers brush your clothed centre.

“I’m staying,” he breathes.

“You can’t leave.”

He smirks as his fingers brush back and forth, barely touching. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you, yeah? I’ll never walk out the door again if that’s what you want.”

“You have a—a palace,” you gasp as he hooks his fingers into your underwear.

His lips ghost over yours as his fingers explore you, slipping through your folds leisurely. “Would you rather live there?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you?”

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you. “Wherever you are,” he whispers as he tugs your underwear down your legs.

“Here,” you breathe.

“Alright, we’ll live here.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, like you can hold the sentiment inside him and physically prevent him from changing his mind. We, he said. We’ll live here. Suddenly his hands are under your thighs and he’s practically scooping you up, slotting himself closer towards you and lifting you up against the shelves. His bare torso is warm against your thighs as you wrap yourself around him securely.

“That sounds nice,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Just nice?” he says back, the mischief clear in his tone.

“It sounds so wonderful, I could die from joy.”

He chuckles against your temple. “Don’t do that. Don’t leave me.”

“One condition.”

“Hm?”

“Would you fuck me now?”

He makes that face again, like he’s deep in thought. His mouth forms a straight line. You kiss it off him, forcing him to part his lips. “Alright, angel,” he mumbles. “I’ll fuck you now.”

His movements are lazy and patient as he pulls himself free from his trousers. You practically latch yourself onto his neck, sucking at his skin desperately. Then he’s playing with you, wetting the tip of his cock along your folds like he has all the time in the world. You’re on the brink of tears when he finally shoves you against the shelves and lets you sink down onto him.

“‘m inside you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You hum, dropping your head back. “Yeah,” you breathe. “You are.”

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho smut #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

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Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 9 (Final)

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.7k Rating: Mature Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Mating/Claiming Bites, Werewolf reveal, Chase and takedown, Happy ending Warnings: None A/N: Thank you to everyone who supported this series. I'm so immensely grateful to everyone who provided inspiration, encouragement, and support for this story. I'm so proud to be finished. Thank you so much.

Once more into the woods you run.

The glow of the village has long since faded behind you, the shouts and cries of the villagers as they ready themselves for the incoming devastation a mere echo through the trees. The wind muffles it, whispering through dry branches of sinister shadows and creatures that lurk within the groves around you. The breeze ruffles your skirt, tosses your scarlet cape across your form. Far above the canopy, the smoke from the burning wreckage of your home billows into the sky. The gentle, yellow light of the full moon now drips red from the fire, casting a hazy, crimson curse against the forest below.

It washes over your form as you turn your face to the sky, look to the moon which hangs as a deathly omen to all that gaze upon it. You wait for the towering figure of a wolf to rise far above the branches, to open its jaw and take the moon between its dripping fangs. Ink dark clouds roil before it, and in them you see the eyes of the beast threatening to stare back at you. They pin you where you stand, stare down through the trees and echo a growl to the rising wind.

The forest once felt like an ally to you. Now, it sets to betray you.

Konig is here, somewhere, amidst the trees. Feverish and dazed as he is, he couldn’t have gotten far from the village. Yet in the darkness, where you can scarcely see a few steps ahead of you, it’s impossible to find any tracks to lead you forward. Instead, your voice rises high to the heavens in a desperate bid to summon him to you.

“Konig!!”

It feels like it hardly carries above the wind that rakes through the trees, rustling leaves across the darkened path before awash in malevolent scarlet from the light of the moon. Your voice cries out through the trees as a wailing call, a tearful attempt to find the man who had held you in his arms and whispered endless devotions.

You don’t understand. Why did he leave, when you begged him not to? When he swore he’d stay, when he had asked you if you’d ever walk out of the woods beside him?

Was it all just a lie?

The forest holds all secrets. Now, it holds him away from you as well.

You make your way forward quietly, knowing you are far from alone in these woods. The threat of the beast within remains, and inside your thoughts the sonorous echo of his ominous howl reverberates in an endless omen. The memory of the towering, monstrous thing from the first night the witchers had come upon these woods has haunted you all this time.

Taller than any man, a huge, lumbering thing. Its arms too long, ears standing atop its furry head, huge spine hunched forward as a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes gaze at you from the trees. Fangs snarl at you in the confines of your mind, and you feel yourself caught between yellowed teeth as the thing crunches down in a killing blow. You think for a moment you hear the sounds of it giving chase above the rapid echo of your own terror, and despite yourself you venture a gaze behind you as Price’s horse thunders down the misty midnight path towards the safety of the village.

You see just a glimpse of it from beyond your fluttering red cape, a shadow that dwarfs your thoughts, a gaze that fixates on you from afar, seeming to promise ‘Soon, little maiden. Soon.’

Soon. You knew this entire time you would come to face the beast. A premonition lurked within you like a fawn disguised amongst the brambles, concealed and fragile, waiting for a thing you could not see. Trembling, it hid from shadows, blinked at the moving figures above, listening to the growl that prowled in search of your quivering form.

You thought you’d have more time.

Now, with the blood moon rising, the wind carrying the sound of your voice in a desperate cry, the darkness swallowing you whole, you fling yourself towards that violent fate. You run forward as panic mounts within you, feet thudding against the cold earth as you search for the soul of your beloved.

He’s here, you can feel it. You know you’ll find him, throw yourself into his arms and dry your face against his shirt as his arms close protectively around you. Somehow, you’ll find yourself facing the wolf together, finding a way forward as you both have vowed. Escape, or death, as long as he holds his hand in yours.

A howl splits the sky.

It begins as a low note and rises to full pitch just as goosebumps erupt across your skin in terror. The sound is deafening. It feels like it’s all around you with no discernible source, calling out your name as a herald of your demise. The howl shakes the ground below your feet, feels like it cracks the earth so you fall down into the endless forest, the branches closing above you as an inescapable prison.

You feel your chest rising unevenly, limbs shaking and breath curling away from you in a gasping billow of air. Terror roots you to where you stand, stifles your voice so the utterance of his name is a mere whisper.

“Konig.”

He said he’d protect you. He said he’d stay.

You knew you tasted lies on his tongue when you kissed him.

Yet you refuse to release him without giving chase.

You run forward once more, the apocalyptic red of the moon radiating off your scarlet cape, dyeing your figure the color of blood. The color of your inescapable fate.

Please. You beg the gods who do not listen. Let me see him. One more time. Let me kiss him and whisper words there even as I’m devoured.

Once more into the woods you run.

Shadows dance at the edge of your vision, and you spin towards them, eyes wild as you try to find Konig, the creature amongst them.

“Konig!!” You call again, listening for his answering call. You flee deeper into the woods, praying that with your next step you don’t find a mangled corpse at your feet.

Yet in the light of the moon, what you find instead is just as horrifying.

Fabric waves in the wind from a sapling that bends to the breeze, and as you near you catch it between your hands.

A dark, poorly sewn covering. The hood he used to cover his face.

Yet there’s no bloodstains, no indication of injury. Almost as if he had torn it from his figure himself. You gaze down at it, fingers tracing the seams, eyes not understanding. Had he shed it in his fevered state, full of delusions?

It doesn’t matter. He’s close, you can tell. Once more, you raise your voice to the rising wind in a cry for him.

“Konig!!”

Yet in the echo of your call, the woods fall ominously silent. The whisper of winter on the wind stills to a quiet hush, tickling the edge of your cape before it falls into stillness. The sway of the trees gently wavers to a halt, and even the clouds above seem to pause in their journey across the sky. The forest holds its breath, allowing the drum of your heartbeat to pulse too loud in your ears.

In the soundless woods around you, you feel an awareness prickle sharp across your neck, racing down your spine in acute realization.

You’re being watched.

Then, a growl.

Fear pulses in tandem with the icy rush of blood in your veins, chest compression the air in your chest into a silent, trembling breath. The low, grinding sound of the growl reverberates ceaselessly in your thoughts, echoing there with the sound you heard so long ago, on the day you began to be plagued by nightmares of the hulking, towering figure that haunts the woods.

You turn in slow motion, limbs shaking, eyes wild and unblinking. You feel as if you move through water, and even as something pulses inside you to run, RUN! you can’t seem to make yourself flee. You remain grounded to the spot, the roots of your feet extended deep into the earth and planting you where you stand. Instead you’re forced to turn to gaze upon the thing that you know will be your destiny.

You expect a shadow, a hulking mass the same as the one you saw in the woods that night. Yet instead the first thing you see is the eyes, the pair of glowing, golden orbs that stare at you from the trees that arch above your trembling form.

Yet then the thing rises, its front paws leaving the earth as it grows taller, taller. With every heartbeat you watch as the beast ascends to its full height, the golden eyes rising through the branches, seemingly past the canopy. An ancient, primordial terror seizes inside you as the monster dwarfs you with its massive size, centuries of instinct bred into your veins by your ancestors to fear the thing before you, to regard it with such terror it urges you to flee to the end of the earth just to avoid its killing bite.

The werewolf raises its muzzle up into the sky just as the clouds part, reddened light streaming through and alighting the creature in the blood red drip of the sky above. It parts its jaws in a snarl, claws extended outwards to reveal the muscle in its arms and torso, fangs gleaming in the ruby glow that makes scarlet ooze from its mouth as it parts-

and howls a catastrophic omen to the heavens.

You will yourself to cover your ears, but your fists remain at your side, one hand still gripping the fabric of the man you may never see again. Instead, your eyes remain locked on the werewolf that towers far above you, with such monstrous height and size you think it may devour you whole.

He can swallow the moon. You think with such stomach-turning dread that every other thought within you sucks into petrified silence.

I’m going to die.

It’s that thought that finally releases you.

You’re sprinting away before you can process the ground moving under your feet, boots thudding against the earth as you fling yourself further into the trees. The long note of the beast’s howl trails after you, dimming to nothingness as the wind rises once more, as your own heaving breaths muffle every other sound in the world around you.

RUN.

You weave deftly between the branches and trunks of the trees around you, your smaller size an advantage to the monster’s lumbering stature. The forest reveals itself to you at last, seems to part before you as you hurl yourself in an unknown direction, a bloodied path with a fatal end. The trees swallow you, try vainly to hide you within their depths as you feel the earth thud, and the monster finally gives chase.

You suck in air desperately, chest compressing in dangerous hyperventilation as you flee. You can’t stop it, you don’t even try, knowing every single moment could be your last. Legs pumping, you try to remember which way you came, trying to remember the dips of brooks and streams, of crags to hide yourself in, the way back in the direction of town in a vain bid to lure the beast into the swords of the hunters there.

Yet in your chest a single word echoes out in a deafening prayer, a scream for rescue towards the one who vowed to protect you.

“KONIG!!”

The beast follows behind you, and you feel the ground shaking under your feet as it closes the distance, tearing trees like branches as it carves a path forward towards your fleeing form. You hear the crack of wood- the sound of an ax hammering through trunks, felling ancient oaks just to taste the warm drip of your blood against its fangs. Each step it takes trembles the earth like a war drum, every beat within your chest feels like the moments ticking until the jaws seize about form, crushing you in half as your scream fills with scarlet-

PLEASE!! You shriek vainly towards the gods, tears filling your eyes with the futility of this chase, knowing it only ends one way. ONCE MORE. LET ME SEE HIM JUST ONCE MORE.

The moon stares balefully down upon your crimson clad form. Silent, imminent, unavoidable since before the day this story began.

Your cape snags against a bramble of thorns, and at the speed you launch yourself with the tie around your neck chokes the air from your lungs. You tug frantically at the fabric, hearing it tear as you rip yourself free, casting a single glance over your shoulder at the thing behind you.

It’s several long strides away, once more on all fours, steam streaming from its dripping maw as it pants and gives chase. Paws the size of your head impact the earth, drumming a rhythm there that screams higher with the pulse between your ribs. The golden eyes trace you as you stumble in your terror, promising a fatal bite that grows closer with every passing second.

You’ll never outrun it.

You try desperately to think past the veil of all consuming fear within, trying to find a solution, a way out, a path forward further into the woods so deep it cannot find you.

The solution comes before you can fully consider it. In the darkness, you don’t see the dip of the stream bank ahead of you. You yelp as you fall forward, unintentionally launching yourself into the water below. It’s not so deep it covers you fully, but the sudden shock of the cold brook manages to steal the air from your lungs as you raise yourself up with shaking limbs. The deafening huff of the beast is just beyond you, and in blind terror you lurch forward once more.

Yet the forest, in all its secrets, offers you a hidden enclave, a shelter. Your hand finds the deep swell of a space between the rocks, damp and shadowed, a space just large enough to fit yourself into. Your chest heaves in gasping breaths as you cram yourself into it, allowing the rocks to swallow you. It’s in his memory, you think, remembering the way you found Konig curled into the same hollow between the trees and rocks, eyes terrified and somehow hopeful as he once reached for you.

He could be already dead. Devoured by the wolf, and with you never having the chance to say goodbye.

Yet you stifle your tears as the werewolf pounces into the stream with a throat tearing snarl, snuffling along the bank’s edge in an effort to trace your scent. You pray that your fall into the water has erased the smell of your fear it uses to follow you, that the shadows of your small enclave conceal you enough to avoid the gaze of its glowing, golden eyes.

You can hear the monster splashing in the stream, growling in frustration as it tries and fails to detect you, nose lifting to the wind to catch your scent. It barks in growing anger, the sound full of ire, grinding deep in its throat. You shiver in the darkness, frigid, wet, shaking from head to toe in your fear. You force yourself to try and not even breathe, for fear the monster will somehow hear that too. You wish in a futile prayer for the moon to set, for the sun to rise and the monster once more to fade into the trees, away from your terrified form huddled into the embankment.

Please. Please. Please. Go away. Just go. Please.

The monster howls towards the sky once more in an angered cry, and the sound shakes the earth under you, seems to echo off the rocks that ensconce your form. The whimper that bubbles up your throat is muffled by the roar, and you shift to gather your cape tighter around you as if it somehow offers a shield of protection.

Then, the world goes silent.

You’re clenched so tight you almost don’t notice at first, eyes scrunched shut and figure curling in on itself as much as the space will allow. A sob clings to the back of your throat, and you will it through sheer force into silence unless it betrays you. Yet the huff and growl of the monster beyond you has vanished. The stream babbles gently in its absence, a soft, almost soothing sound paired with the rustle of trees far above.

You wait a long breath, wait longer for your heart to begin to still before you allow your shoulders to drop, your eyes to open.

Only to stare into the golden gaze of the werewolf.

You scream, and scream louder as a claw snags the edge of your cape, allowing the monster to drag you from your shelter.

“NO. NO!!” You shriek, struggling as the thing parts its jaws in a sinister snarl. Your hands work frantically at the tie around your collar, fingers fumbling as you fall onto your side, the impact rattling the air from your heaving chest.

Somehow, you manage to free yourself, and as the monster plucks the red fabric of your cape between its fangs, you miraculously manage to dart under one of its massive legs and fling yourself up the slope of the embankment. You claw at branches and roots, fingers digging at dirt as you somehow haul yourself up onto solid ground once more. Yet you have not a moment of relief, not as the monster quickly realizes your ruse and gives chase once more.

You cry as you flee, trying to remember the sacraments for the dead as the warm breath of the monster falls upon your nape, quickly closing the distance behind you. A sob tears from your throat, and the memory of your beloved’s gentle embrace, his kisses and devotions provide no shelter from the monster that pursues you.

A swipe to your legs is all it takes to send you tumbling, ground rushing up to greet you harshly. Yet even then you try to struggle away, crawling forward, your eyes streaming with tears. The monster looms above you, uses a mere ounce of strength to flip you onto your back, pin you beneath a single, massive paw.

“Konig.” You sob, vainly trying to dislodge the weight above you, a futile effort as the wolf lowers its maw towards your weak and prone form. A growl reverberates all the way from its chest down into the marrow of your being, and it once more forces a wordless cry as you’re pressed helplessly into the earth.

The werewolf stares down at you, muzzle bunched in a snarl as it lowers its muzzle closer towards the soft, tender arch of your throat. The bite from Konig remains there, and you sob as you remember the words he whispered as he engraved a claiming mark into your flesh.

"Rotty." He growls again, voice deeper, somehow feral. "My Rotty."

Wild, somehow, as he’d held you, barely able to restrain the savageness inside him that seemed more creature than man.

You blink, lips parting, breath caught in your throat as somehow the forest reveals all things kept secret within its depths, at last allowing you to glimpse upon the truth held within the both of you all this time.

The bite mark on his leg. The trap that had been laid by the witchers that had caught the hock of the wolf. The strange disappearance of the monster as you’d sheltered a stranger in your home. His disgust with the scent of wolfsbane on your palms. The interest in his stare that offered a silent watchfulness, an unwavering focus like the lurking gaze of a predator from the woods. The glint of his golden yellow eyes is the same color as the stare above you.

“The wolf won’t hurt you, Rotty. I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“Konig.” You whisper in awed realization, watching as the monster opens its jaws to descend ever so slowly towards your throat.

He left you. He was trying to protect you. Protect you from himself.

He is the wolf from your nightmares.

and somehow, the man from your daydreams.

“It was you.” You whisper, tears still streaming but somehow not afraid, breath released in a sigh as you grow limp under the grasp of the beast above you. “It was always you.”

The pale light of the moon falls upon your open, tender gaze even as warm breath huffs across your skin in the promise of a killing bite.

The words of Laswell, the words you didn’t understand, now unwind themselves in the prophecy of which she spoke.

Laswell holds you, hands clinging tightly to the cape she once bestowed upon you as a gift of her affection towards you.

“There’s one more thing.” She tells you, and in her voice you hear prophecy, the magic she keeps in careful concealment. It winds around you like brambles, a protection for the soul inside you striving towards something you’ve desired all your life, something which remains so close and just out of reach, residing in the woods you’ve always called home.

Laswell gathers you to her, and whispers words in your ear you don’t yet understand, holds you tight like she would a daughter.

“The only way to stop a werewolf.” She speaks to you in a voice that speaks of prophecy. “Is for his name to be echoed thrice by the voice of his beloved.”

Teeth scrape against the flesh of your throat. Your arms raise around the neck of the monster, embracing him so you nuzzle your cheek into his pelt. You drink in the scent of him- familiar, earthy, a touch of smoke from the warm billow of your hearth, and within it the breath of something forever wild and untamed. There, you whisper the final sacrament to this story of yours in a beloved sigh of complete and total surrender.

“Konig.”

The werewolf above you freezes, teeth closed gently around your neck, not yet drawing blood.

You close your eyes, turning your head ever go gently, and press a kiss into his fur.

“Let’s walk out of these woods, together.”

It’s still for a moment, the whisper of the wind through the trees hushing unspoken words onto both your forms, the forest waiting, holding its breath for what comes next.

The creature above you makes a sound, something caught between a growl and a voice, and in it you hear the name he has bestowed upon you.

“Rotty.”

His fangs relinquish their hold on you, drawing back at the same time the paw that pins you withdraws, his form shifting, changing. You watch in awe as the monster before you transforms, fur growing inwards, the bulk of his massive frame folding. His animalistic features retreat from snarling fangs and outstretched claws to human features, shoulders shortening, limbs thinning, until at last the form of a man appears underneath. Konig bows under the transformation, body wracking with a deep shudder as his bones fold themselves back into place, skin knitting so his wolfish features disappear.

At last the pale flesh of his form is revealed, and Konig gasps hoarsely as he falls forward, arms buckling under him so he flops onto your form.

You reach out and catch him, feel the air rush from your lungs as the exhausted weight of him presses down on you. Your hands wrap around his neck, shoulders, and you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, whispering comforts there as he shivers.

“Rotty.” He manages again, voice now absent of the feral growl. Instead he whimpers, broken and desperately relieved, forcing strength into his arms so they wrap around you in turn. “Rotty...I-”

“Shh.” You hush him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’re safe. I’m alright. We’re okay.”

Konig shivers again, hiccups a small, sorrowful sound into your shoulder.

“I tried to save you.” He rasps. “I knew if I stayed that-”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I...nearly killed you.”

“I know.” You tell him, a hand reaching up to pet at his hair. “I saved you.”

Konig nuzzles deeper into you with a trembling sigh, hauls you closer to him. “How did you...?”

You smile, staring up at the moon. For the first time, you notice that the red haze of smoke from the village is dissipating, leaving behind a gentle, pale yellow that bathes you both.

“A friend.” You confess. “Someone who had faith in me.”

Konig is still for a moment, before he at last rises off you, bracing himself on his elbows so her hovers just above your face. Without his hood, you see his features for the first time. A strong jaw, a tickling of a beard, a slightly crooked nose, long dark hair that drapes across his forehead and neck, and...

You blink, fingers coming up to trace the corner of his mouth.

Sharp canines that speak of something other than human.

“What sharp teeth you have.” You murmur softly, expression softening, and you watch in awe as Konig’s face pinches, tears welling into his eyes.

“Rotty.” He sobs, ducking his head. “Rotty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I never-”

You watch him, transfixed by this new myriad of expressions you’re witnessing for the first time, lips parting in wonder. The words inside you escape before you can stop them.

“You’re so...beautiful.” You whisper, watching as his eyes shoot up towards yours, shocked. You can only offer a tender smile, a sweet and beloved reassurance as your hand traces his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I love you.” He tells you, barely audible, as if he’s almost scared to say it, scared of his devotion towards you. It clenches something tight in your chest, and you feel your own expression finally crumple, warmth flooding your eyes once more.

You stretch up, press your lips to him in a chaste contact, and whisper there the words you’ve wished so desperately to say this entire time.

“I love you, Konig.”

He shudders at the sound of your breathless confession, and gently grazes his lips against yours, as if he can taste the words there.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs, and bends at last to kiss you.

You press into him eagerly, head falling back onto the earth as he chases you, mouth slanting against yours with a sigh. Your hand raises to tangle in his hair, and it solicits a groan from him, deep and cavernous like the wolf he is inside. You feel his teeth bite at your lip, fangs scraping across the plush skin. You shudder at the pure possessiveness with which he kisses you, as if to remind himself that you’re whole, his, only ever his. His Rotty. His beloved. His mate.

You whisper his name once more and allow him to devour you whole.

---

The sun rises gently over the village.

In Laswell’s quiet cottage, pale morning light seeps through the windows, and washes over her in a soft, dove gray that catches the color of her eyes. She gathers her things, collects her belongings and prepares herself for the long journey that is about to come.

In her hands, a letter.

Dearest Kate,

I’m safe, but you probably knew that when you saw this.

I’ve decided to leave the village, and my guess is so have you.

I have someone to go with, but I think you knew that too.

We’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’ll find a way to visit soon.

Just not yet. I hope you can explain to Price and the others

what has happened. I hope they’ll understand, and that

someday I can see them again. Give them my love.

Tell them I understand why they did what they did in

hiding the truth from me. I know they were trying to

protect me, and I don’t hold it against them.

I have someone to protect as well, and he’s going to

protect me too. We have each other, and I’m more

happy than I can write here.

You had faith in me. You always have. You knew

that only I could break this curse, and even at the

risk of my own life you believed in me. Without you,

I would have lived a life of heartache. Thank you for

saving me from that. Know that I will find a way to

see you soon, and until then I hope you are happy,

and well, and safe.

With all my love,

Red...and Konig

Laswell stares down at the paper with sad, fond eyes. There’s a bitter sweetness to her smile, a happiness that is stifled only by your absence. She comforts herself with your words, with your promise to come see her once more. Yet she’s glad to watch you leave, as if observing a fledgling lark take flight for the first time and ascend far above the trees, into the blue sky. There will be a time when you come back to nest into her arms, and she trusts for the day to come soon when she can embrace you as the daughter you are to her.

A knock on the door. She turns, taking in the weary, grieving form of Price as he stands on the threshold.

“It’s time.” He tells her, voice mournful, muted. Laswell tilts her head, smiles at him before gesturing to him inside. He stands at her side, brow bunched in dismay, and she turns to him, cups his face in fond familiarity.

“John.” She murmurs. “I have something to tell you.”

---

The wind rushes past your ears as you fly across the earth, hands gripped tight to the beast that moves under you. Fur tangles between your fingers, and you use it to brace yourself with every powerful roll of shoulders that carries you forward. Warm, panting breaths huff into the growing winter air, steam billowing from the creature’s mouth as his paws thunder against the ground. You cling to him as he runs, the crimson of your cape streaming out behind you like a bloodstain.

You look to the sky, where the sun rises above a clear, pale blue, and the moon nestles softly beyond the horizon- waiting, silent, until it rises once more. The vast expanse of azure you were never able to fully see extends endlessly out before you as you’re carried far above the tree line, into the mountains, and away from the village you once called home. Instead, your eyes take in the never-ending forest below, and gaze further up into the misty slopes wherein you will plant new roots for you and him.

The beast under you slowly trots to a halt amidst a fern lined grove, glances at you over a single massive shoulder with golden eyes. You stroke through his dark fur before sliding from his back onto solid earth once more. As you do, the wolf rises and shifts, bones shifting inwards until Konig is at last revealed with a soft sigh. He stands bare beside you as you toe the edge of the cliff to take in the view below. The smoke from the village can no longer be seen, well behind you now as you travel towards the future. The changing colors of fall have begun to fade, and you shiver at the thought of the long winter that’s yet to come.

Konig loops his arms around you from behind, drags you to him so the warmth of his frame bleeds into you. You go easily, lifting a hand to gently grasp at his arm as you two stare down at the valley below.

“We’ve a long ways to go, Schatz.” He murmurs, propping his head above yours and swaying gently on his feet. “We’ll need to find a den before winter comes.”

You hum a low note in response and allow yourself to imagine it- a new home. One with furs lining the floors, plush beneath your bare feet. A fire blazes brightly, smoke lifting upwards with the scent of cedar. You feel the warmth of it cast golden across your bare form as you pad over towards the nest you share with him. Both of you, strange, mysterious creatures of the woods- once alone, now together. He embraces you, gathers you to him and descends towards your waiting lips. You taste devotions on his tongue.

“My mate.” He purrs from behind you, as if imagining the same vision. He leans down to nuzzle at your cheek affectionately, drinking in your scent with a pleased, rumbling growl. You crane your head to offer him a kiss and feel the smile there as you do.

“My wolf.” You murmur in return with a breathy sigh, cup his face in tender affection. A sound rumbles low in his chest- possessive, protective, and utterly devoted.

He tilts his head, noses along the bruise he left on your neck with a displeased little whine.

“It’s fading.” He remarks quietly, noting the waning colors. “My claiming bite.”

You arch your neck so he has better access to it, sighing languidly in response. “Is that what makes me yours?” You ask softly.

Konig pauses then, and soon you find yourself facing him, caught in his arms as your hands brace themselves on his bare chest.

“No.” He tells you, staring down with his beautiful eyes, the color of a damp, green forest. “I can bite you, claim you forever, but you’re mine no matter what, Rotty.”

You offer him a smile of pure adoration, eyes full of a love so deep not even the endless forest has room to contain it. You stroke his face, your beloved wolf, and whisper the words that are your destiny.

“Then claim me.” You tell him softly, feeling prophecy unfurl once more. “Forever. I’m yours.”

Gold swallows green in his gaze, eyes glimmering brightly as he gathers you to him once more. You sigh into his lips as his arms close around you, unspooling your crimson cape so it sprawls on the earth below.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs with the low intonation of a wild thing now tamed by your hands. “My Rotty.”

He lays you down amongst the ferns, presses his teeth to the soft flesh of your neck...

and you allow red to seal your fate.

Taglist:

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@writeforfandoms @zwiiicnziiix @soapskneebrace @tealikestoread @mikrou @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @kiroshang @adorephina @equalstrashflavoredtrash @dog55teeth @seraphimcollections @pettyprocrastination @borderlinecatboybehavior @warenai @moskaisley @nachtcirce @feelingnotmyself @lovenotcomputed @rk1v35 @kikisstrawberrie @emrzennn @montenegroisr @frazie99 @graybraids @ohgraywardens @tangerines-mustache @poohkie90 @arbesa-mind @glitterypirateduck @ihatethinkingofnames10 @josieguts @berryjuicyy @emmbny @merkitty49 @danisblog164 @trashedies @arael-asuka @angryvengeful @fake-id-69 @theallpowerfulrosami @ramadiiiisme @elsasshole @emrzennn @grimraindrop818

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#konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #witcher 141 au #könig x f! reader #my fic #fic: rotes madchen #werewolf x reader

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods

Summary: You knew it was a mistake to go into the woods at night.

Written for: This is my dark and mordern interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood for @boxofbonesfic 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒜 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒…challenge. Congratulations on your milestone again.

Square G2 filled for @allcapsbingo: Claim fuck

Ship: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!(LittleRedRidingHood) Reader

Tags/Warnings: angst, chasing, fear, dark!fic, werewolf trope, a/b/o, scenting, marking, mating, huge cock, dub-con, non-con due to monster fucking (yes, you heard right; we will get the big bad wolf this time), smut, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, biting, blood, transformation, manipulation, implied kidnapping, the reader is an adult and at age, this story is 18+

Words: 1,8+

A/N: Please consider I stepped out of my comfort zone and wrote something dark this time. Head the warnings and read at your own risk. Don’t like, don’t read.

Little Red Riding Hood.

That’s what people call you. You found it cute when you were younger, adorable even. Now that you are a grown woman, a feisty and stubborn one, it’s not adorable anymore, it’s an offense.

You’re still wearing a red hooded cloak in honor of your grandmother. She passed away some years ago, and you just can’t forget about her, or the fairytales she told you.

About wolves lurking in the dark. Finding their mates by watching, searching, and sniffing around humans. She warned you not to go into the woods after dark. You could only visit her cabin nestled deep in the woods during the daytime.

All your life you listened to her warnings. Never enter the woods after dark. All your life, until tonight.

Grief held your heart in such a tight grip that you had to visit her cabin.

It’s not too far from your home, and you believe nothing will happen to you if you follow the path you know by heart. The one framed with wildflowers and the sigils your grandmother carved into the trees. For protection – she always said, while mumbling words you didn’t understand.

If only you listened to her.

Now you are on the run, chased by a man-sized beast. You only got glimpses of the beast hunting you, but it was enough to know it would kill you if you let it get closer.

“Omega,” it snarls in your direction, knowing that you are hiding behind another tree. “Come to me.”

You gasp as the large wolf-like creature stops in front of the tree. It looks directly at you for a moment. The wolf throws its head back and howls loudly.

“Go away,” you whisper more to yourself than the creature. You place your hand on the tree trunk, praying that the sigils your grandmother carved deep into the tree will protect you from the beast.

The sigils are faded, but the beast won’t get close.

“Omega.”

The wolf snarls at you. It waits and waits as you remain behind the tree. You hold your breath as it steps toward the tree.

It whines, and you swear its features are twisted in pain for a second before the wolf steps back again.

“No.”

“You’re mine,” it says. Or at least you believe the wolf speaks to you as it moves back. The wolf sits down, waiting patiently for you to come closer. “Come here.”

You violently shake your head. “Go away, beast,” you reply. You’re still out of breath from all the running and try to find a way to escape the wolf without running again. If there is a way.

“You’re scared,” a deep guttural noise leaves the beast’s throat. You still have no idea how you can understand its words. “Good.”

Your eyes widen as the beast stares back at you. Up close it looks even taller than before, and you know you won't stand a chance.

“Come here,” it insists.

When you don’t move a muscle, the beast stomps its forepaws on the ground. The ground shakes violently. You scream in terror as the tree protecting you from the beast splits into two halves.

All you can do is jump out of the way to avoid being hit by the tree’s branches. You land on your back, crying out in pain as the beast purrs in your direction. “I will tame you, feisty omega.”

You’re shaking in fear. Whatever the beast is after, it’s not its next snack. That wolf wants something else, so you fear.

“Go away.”

You stare at the beast, watching it tilt its head. It listens to your ragged breathing and silent whimpers. Whatever the beast in front of you is, it knows you already lost this fight.

“Go away…just go away,” you chant. “Please let this be a nightmare.”

The wolf watches you for a heartbeat, and another before howling again. This time, the beast straightens its back. It keeps its eyes on you.

It rolls his shoulders back, whining low as you hear bones crack, and muscles tear. You can’t look away, you can't run as the wolf turns into a human-like beast.

The beast stands on its hind feet and clenches its fists. Even though it looks more human now, it’s still a beast ready to devour you.

“No.”

You stand up and go for a sprint. Panic rises in your chest as you hear the beast follow you close behind. You look over your shoulder, screaming in terror as the wolf chases you again.

Its speed is inhuman. You can’t compare. While you aimlessly run through the woods, praying you’ll find one of the trees your grandmother marked, the beast is right behind you.

“Stop now," it calls for you. “I’ll be kind to you. I won’t hurt you.”

You keep running, but the beast won’t have it. It stomps his left hind foot again, shaking the ground. You fall to your knees and crawl away.

“These woods belong to me and my kind. Our ancients walked these grounds ages before your kind was born. Soon you will be one of us, my omega and mate.”

“Leave me alone. Please just go away,” you sniffle as you scramble to your feet. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

"I smelled you from a mile away."

He stalks toward you, chuckling darkly. “I like the cloak, take it off and put it aside. We don’t want it to get dirty when you are on your hands and knees for me. Be good, and I won't hurt you.”

You’re frozen to the spot. It feels like your body obeys the beast’s orders. “Do it now, omega.” You unclasp your cloak with stiff fingers. “Good girl. Now put it aside and come here.”

It’s a struggle not to scream as the beast pounces on you. You end up underneath the enormous beast, trembling as it's nose buries into your neck. It inhales your scent, snarling and purring as its claw-like hands rip your clothes to shreds.

“You’re mine.”

You sniffle silently as the beast manipulates your body. It runs his furry hands all over your body, as you try to let your mind wander. One of its claws pushes your upper body down and holds you to the muddy ground.

You struggle to not lose your mind. The last thing you want is to feel the beast spread your legs or his face buried in your cunt. Its long tongue teases your folds, making you whimper at the odd sensation. This monster forces you into submission with every swirl of its tongue.

“No,” you whine and scream, hoping someone stops the beast. It’s no use. The wolf slips its long tongue into your cunt, slowly fucking you with the skilled muscle. “Oh god, no. This can’t be…no.”

Its hot breath fans over your exposed ass while his tongue slides in and out of you. You have never felt so helpless before. A beast pushes its tongue inside of you, and all you can do is drool and moan.

You writhe on its tongue, hips rolling on their own as you chase a high you didn’t ask for. The beast growls against you, greedily drinking your juices when you gush over its snout.

“Good omega,” the beast purrs as you feel like in limbo. A boneless body, getting lifted by the beast. You feel it shift behind you. With its enormous, dense body, it covers your trembling form. Its fur tickles your skin as the wolf wiggles its hips. “Have all of me now.”

Your eyes snap open the moment you feel something bigger prob at your entrance. You took a big cock before, even a knot. But the thing slowly pressing into you is far from normal. “No…too much…stop.”

“You can take it, omega,” it purrs in your ear. “Take me. All of me.”

The fight is over. You must surrender.

The beast slowly inches its way inside your body. You cry as the wide stretch is painful. It's too much of the beast, and it still pushes further in. “Almost.”

Tears spill from your eyes as the beast snaps its hips into your ass. You are entirely at the beast’s mercy. It covers your body and presses you into the ground. Its huge cock is nestled inside your body, and all you can do is let it have whatever it wants from you.

“So good.”

The beast starts to move, and it feels like it tries to be careful. It doesn’t make sense. The wolf was chasing you, and now it forced its cock inside of your body. “Relax, ‘mega,” you hear his voice turn softer. “You are doing so well for me, Y/N.”

You gasp. How can the beast rutting into you know your name?

“How…?” you choke out a moan as the beast angles his hips, now hitting that spot making you see stars. Your vision becomes blurry as the beast on top of you starts to slam into you in abandon.

“You’re mine.”

Your body surrenders first. Your walls tighten around his thick cock, and you feel slick run down your thighs. It’s over. The beast got what it wanted and will kill you after it’s done with you. You’re sure of it.

“Mine.”

A scream tears from your throat when the beast’s teeth sink into your neck. It breaks your mating gland, growling against you as you pass out.

The last thing you feel is the blood running down your neck and its cum filling your abused cunt. “Mine…”

You wake. It’s odd, but you wake.

After what happened last night you didn’t expect to breathe another day. But here you are sleeping on a soft mattress.

“You’re awake, good.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You recognize the voice from last night, but it's not the wolf standing in front of you. It’s one of your regulars from your library.

He often comes to town to borrow books. His name is James or Bucky.

“What?”

“You must be very confused,” he bares his pearl-white teeth while speaking to show off dominance. “You will adapt soon, doll. I had to mark you before anyone else got the chance. You were ripe for harvest and I’m alpha prime, the one who can choose his mate first.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you whisper as you touch your neck. There is a scar in form of human teeth, but nothing else. “What happened…it must’ve been a dream.”

“Not a dream.”

Bucky morphs his face.

“No! No!” you scream as the beast looks back at you. “This can’t be…why?”

“Because you are mine and this is your new life. You never have to go back to town ever again. Soon my pups will grow in your belly. We are going to be a big happy family.”

Your blood runs cold as you press your hand to your belly. “No…no…”

“If we didn’t make it this time,” he grins wolfishly, “I love trying…”

I won’t do tags for this story because it’s a dark story. I don’t want anyone to read a story which isn’t their cup of tea.

#bucky barnes x reader #werewolf!Bucky Barnes #allcapsbingo #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: a/b/o #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!alpha Bucky

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jessamine-rose · 1 year

Text

‧̍̊˚ᵕ⋆Part of Your World⋆ᵕ˚‧̍̊

After two months and several “Part of Your World” loops, my Yandere Mermaid AU has been written!! I hope you all enjoy these tragic fairytales featuring Capitano, Pantalone, Dottore, and Pierro ϵ( 'Θ' )϶

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, kidnapping

♡ 2.5k words under the cut ♡

Shark! Capitano x Coral Reef Fish! Mermaid

♡ Humans and mermaids alike are afraid of Capitano due to the misconceptions about sharks. It doesn’t help that he is considered intimidating even by his own species—a masked hunter who reigns victorious over every feeding frenzy, adorned with scars from his deceased opponents.

♡ In contrast to his fearsome reputation, he is actually one of the calmer creatures of the sea. He mainly keeps to himself and avoids unnecessary violence, confident in his ability to survive alone. So it comes as a surprise when Capitano swims into your coral reef and scares away the mermaids who were bullying you.

♡ He understands your initial fear of him. You are quite the little mermaid, a weaker species of coral reef fish, though your scarred tail is proof of your capacity to defy natural selection. And you achieve another victory as Capitano gently asks if you are all right.

♡ Your quiet “Thank you” results in more encounters. He soon becomes your attentive companion, leading to more peace in your coral reef. The two of you regularly admire the sea anemone and swim together, the distance between you disappearing in no time.

♡ You’ve watched Capitano hunt on a few occasions; and while his strength is terrifying, the spectacle reminds you that he can keep you safe from other species. (Come to think of it, what happened to your bullies?) Likewise, he accepts the algae and small animals you’ve hunted from tiny crevices, affectionately calling you his little hunter.

♡ You even visit his home! His cavern is located in the deep sea, with less sunlight and more aggressive mermaids who mistake you for Capitano’s meal. Don’t worry, he is quick to scare them away and escort you to his safe territory. Look, he has a pretty collection of sea anemone which he knows you’d love.

♡ It’s strange, really. To Capitano, you are no worthy competitor nor a species with symbiotic relations to shark mermaids. So why do you bewitch him? Why does he feel the urge to protect you? Why are his instincts telling him to bite you, not as a prey but as a mate?

♡ He tries to repress those urges. He really does—it would be an offense to your own resilience. How fitting, then, that his boiling point is triggered by the worst predator known to your kind, a group of humans who catch you in a net and drag you up to their boat.

♡ Needless to say, a rare mermaid attack is reported that day. In the wake of the carnage, all you can do is tearfully hug Capitano and thank him for saving you. But the bloodshed does little to calm him. His little mermaid was almost stolen from him. How many more predators are eager to harm you?

♡ It’s too late for you. Before you can swim out of his grasp, Capitano holds you more tightly and makes his decision. The world is merciless to the weak, so you are to stay by his side from now on. It is his only way to ensure your safety.

♡ Well, look on the bright side. With Capitano as your provider, you are never alone in the sea—not that you could leave his territory without him, given his predatory neighbors. He still allows you to swim freely so long as he is there to protect you, and who can forget the many sea anemones he brings home for you?

♡ You can only pray that you survive your new role as his mate. Capitano may be willing to accommodate your softer flesh and courtship rituals, but the difference in strength is apparent. If he isn’t careful, his bites could become fatal…not that he would ever harm his beloved.

Jellyfish! Pantalone x Exotic Pet! Mermaid

♡ Pantalone is regarded as the jewel of the sea. Everything about him is perfect, from his graceful demeanor to his ethereal jellyfish features. Beneath that languid veneer, he is quite skilled in navigating the dangers of the deep sea and preying on unsuspecting creatures.

♡ When a ship capsizes in the midst of a storm, he takes advantage of the situation. He kills stings several humans, collects their valuables, and comes across a new treasure. A pretty mermaid trapped in a large aquarium, gazing at him with wide-eyed wonder.

♡ He easily deduces your identity. You are a rare mermaid raised by humans, a pampered pet who doesn’t know how to survive in the wild. And you have nowhere to go, seeing how your owners have either drowned or abandoned you.

♡ In that case, why don’t you stay with Pantalone? He must be a reliable mermaid if he’s willing to set you free and welcome you into his territory! His cavern is larger than your old aquariums, furnished with a gorgeous collection of pearls, human trinkets, and other treasures. And you fit right in with your shimmery scales and bright smiles.

♡ It takes a while for you to adapt to the wild. Outgrowing your expensive meals is easier said than done, much less learning how to hunt. You’re also a slow swimmer due to being raised in captivity, but Pantalone is patient enough to wait for you. He is a warm presence, always watching over you and educating you in How to be a Mermaid.

♡ He is also incredibly beautiful, which is high praise from an exotic pet. How can you not approach him when he illuminates the dark with his bioluminescent features? How can you not accept his offer to share body heat on cold nights, tails intertwined? How can you not applaud his underwater dances, unaware that it is a courtship ritual?

♡ You’re really lucky to have met him, you know? That is what Pantalone says whenever he stops you from meeting other mermaids and leaving his territory unsupervised. Had you met another sea creature, you would’ve quickly succumbed to the natural order of the world. You’re so naive and helpless, but he is willing to put up with it.

♡ Furthermore, something must be done about your view of humans. Despite the truth to his horror stories, it’s still common for Pantalone to pull you away from the surface and scuba divers. How many times has he warned you against showing yourself to humans? Don’t you know that the creatures who imprisoned you are just as likely to turn you into sashimi?

♡ Your shared life is perfect. So why are you suddenly saying goodbye to him? Pantalone can only stay silent when you tell him that you’d like to find your natural habitat. Your species isn’t meant for the deep sea and you feel guilty for freeloading. At the end of your speech, you leave the cavern to give him some space.

♡ That was your plan until Pantalone reaches out and stings you with his tentacles. He is incredibly apologetic about it, checking your wounds with cold hands and a calm smile. Oh dear, he’s so sorry. It seems that he let his emotions get the best of him. Why don’t you come back inside, darling? In your current condition, you would be easy prey.

♡ You listen to him. Eventually, you agree with Pantalone that you’d made an unconscionable decision. How could you possibly survive in the wild without him? Why put yourself in danger when you already have a perfect mate to care for you? You’re already home.

Octopus! Dottore x Marine Biologist! Human

♡ Octopus mermaids are perceived as intelligent troublemakers, and Dottore lives up to that reputation. His curiosity of the human world has caused many near-sightings, human deaths, and criticism from his peers but who is he to shy away from forbidden knowledge?

♡ It is during one research expedition that he meets a like-minded scientist. You are diving solo when Dottore reveals himself, and you react with genuine excitement. Not conventional fear, greed, or cruelty but pure fascination towards a foreign creature—a sentiment which he reciprocates.

♡ He is cautious, of course, but you remain undeterred by his bared fangs and clouds of ink. You carefully approach him and communicate with hand signals, to which Dottore surprises you with a few human words learned from previous research.

♡ An unlikely friendship is formed. Over time, you and Dottore secretly meet in the same area to share information and learn about each other. The language barrier remains an issue but you soon gain a rudimentary understanding of his speech patterns.

♡ While most humans equate octopi to sea monsters, you are clever enough to discover the truth on your own. You politely study Dottore’s mermaid biology, marveling over his grip strength and the suction marks he leaves on your skin. Likewise, you allow him to poke your legs and squeeze you with his tentacles. Half the time, the latter is an involuntary action which he tries to deny.

♡ One day, he follows you to the surface! Dottore has visited the surface before but it’s different when you are part of the view. Above water, you can remove your diving mask and speak to him clearly. An important observation is made: You have an attractive face. He’d like to see your expressions more often.

♡ Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by an approaching boat. Quickly, you push him underwater and speak with the sailors. Thankfully, they don’t notice your companion and offer you a ride back to shore. You comply, unaware that Dottore is still watching you.

♡ What an unwelcome intrusion, he thinks bitterly. Despite your sociobiological boundaries, he can’t deny his fondness for you. The involuntary hugs from his tentacles, this odd feeling in all three of his hearts…could it be? Is such an attraction pursuable?

♡ Well, Dottore hasn’t been accused of witchcraft for nothing. In your following visits, he is more rigid in his research. He collects more human data, takes a few DNA samples from you, and acts clingy during your departures. You brush it off as an ordinary change in mood; it’s not like you could ask about it, anyway.

♡ One day, he guides you to the deep sea for some local mermaid games. You’re having so much fun that it comes as a total shock when Dottore forcibly removes your diving mask. For a few minutes, he restrains you with his tentacles and watches your distress with a cold, calculative expression. A deep kiss follows, flooding your throat with a bitter sedative.

♡ You know something is wrong as soon as you wake up. Dottore is looming over you with a frightening grin and when he speaks, you can understand him? That is when you notice the gills on your neck, the scales littering your skin, the mermaid tail in place of your legs.

♡ Aren’t you impressed? It took him ages to create a permanent transformation potion, and he even accommodated your favorite marine species! Now he can see your lovely face all the time and show you parts of the sea which no human can explore. Worry not, Dottore will guide you through your adjustment. The two of you will be closer than ever.

Orca! Pierro x Rescuer! Human

♡ Orca mermaids are no stranger to animal cruelty. Pierro can attest to that, having lost his habitat and escaped captivity. So when he washes up on shore, too weak and dispirited to resist the currents, he thinks it is the end for him.

♡ Only to be proven wrong by a compassionate human who lives near the sea. Before anyone can see him, you bring the beached mermaid home and put him in your bathtub. You add some foam pillows, treat his wounds, and wait for him to wake up.

♡ Pierro is naturally distrustful at first but there’s only so much he can do inside a bathtub. Apart from your concern, you are naturally curious about him and surprised by his fluency in human languages, an ability exclusive to his species.

♡ For a human, you’re oddly empathetic. Recognizing the social needs of orca mermaids, you spend hours in your bathroom to chat with your new companion. You introduce him to human culture by providing personal stories and warm meals which taste a thousand times better than the stale fish fed to captive animals.

♡ As the weeks pass, Pierro grows to trust you. You treat him like a companion, not a beast or pet, and go the extra mile to keep him comfortable. While he is embarrassed to sit in an inflatable kiddie pool, he’s willing to set aside his pride for more interactions in your home.

♡ Once his wounds have healed, you bring him to shore and set him free. In the dead of the night, you have enough time to properly say your goodbyes and wish Pierro a safe future. He thanks you one last time and disappears below the surface, leaving you to resume your ordinary life.

♡ Months later, you are roaming your neighborhood when you bump into a familiar person. It’s Pierro, appearing distinctly human with his two legs and fancy suit. After the initial shock wears off, he explains that he took a transformation potion to visit you. The effect wears off in three days; until then, would you be so kind as to give him a tour of your world?

♡ You eagerly accept. In his human form, Pierro can properly explore your house and natural habitat. The two of you go on several outings, eat your meals at your dining table, and share your bed. He regards your bathtub and kiddie pool with endeared nostalgia.

♡ On the third day, you cook a special farewell feast and invite Pierro to visit another time. He thanks you again, for both your hospitality and your previous act of compassion, but makes one clarification: Who said that he is saying goodbye?

♡ You aren’t given a warning before Pierro physically overpowers you and twists your leg. Calmly, he carries you to bed and soothes your pained cries. Walking is quite inconvenient, isn’t it? All it takes is a single injury, a shift in balance or gravity, for a human to be incapacitated.

♡ Well, Dottore’s the Sea Witch’s potion was worth it. He still has a few days before the effect wears off, enough time to decide on what to do with you. You see, darling, you’re too precious to him. How can he search for a new home when he has already found one in you?

♡ Now he just needs to decide whether he’ll remain a human or drag you to the deep sea and permanently turn you into a mermaid. It’s a difficult choice, seeing how either of you must make a sacrifice. But one thing is certain: Wherever you go, land or sea, he will be a part of your world.

♡

Read the sequel + more mermaid lore ʚʘ͜͡))❨

Fufufu which Harbinger’s story was your favorite?? The mermaid brainrot and nostalgia was very strong in this one. If the couples seem familiar, that’s cuz I incorporated the characters and darlings from my Yandere! Harbinger longfic series~

A big thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this and putting up with more of my nonsense. And to the fishfuckers, I know you exist. I hope you are happy u_u

Tag a Harbinger enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @nicebonescomrades @harmonysanreads @ansy-tea @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @kocherry @gum-iie @oofasleep @crypticbibliophile @yanmaresu @frogchiro @lcveaesop @shumidehiro @mirdance @surveyycorps @theinnerunderrain @teabutmakeitazure

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ghost-bxrd · 3 months

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I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:

Fae Dick Grayson

F A E

okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)

Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨

Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!

The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.

Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.

And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.

And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.

He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.

Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..

“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”

“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”

“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”

“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”

“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”

It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.

The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.

(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)

Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.

#look growing up in the middle of the woods just does something to you #my entire family told us tales about the creatures in the woods #looking back on it now a lot of them were fairly creepy #but my cousin and I always went looking for the one who ‘swayed the trees’#there’s not a good translation for it but it sounds pretty cool in my language #and also slightly gruesome #double meaning and all that #then again our idea of fun was traipsing into the moors and finding ways through it without getting stuck so idk #wow ok that reads like a bit of a horror story but I swear it was great #anyway #ghost talks #fae dick Grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #Robin

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optimist-pine · 2 months

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Mercy

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Animal death

Summary: Daryl watches you hunt and he's left with a question he can't answer.

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: Haha this was supposed to be fluff under the title Archer. It's flangst now... Whoopsie.

Daryl doesn't know what drives him to do it. Maybe it's simply boredom. More likely though, it's his growing desire to learn - to study you, study your technique. Maybe he's already impressed and all that's left is to see you in action.

That's how he finds himself following you into the woods on this freshly arrived morning. He keeps his distance but it's not very difficult to keep track of you, your pace and direction consistent and reliable. When you do stop he finds himself watching with rapt attention.

The way you wait is as reverent as a prayer. Your stance never shifting, arms steady and strong, posture perfect. Images of those ancient marble sculptures cross his mind, their bodies crafted into fine-tuned instruments. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the forest has gone still; nothing - not even the breeze - makes a move. The world has gone quiet, like even the animals are holding their breath.

Then your arrow flies and the earth returns to life in full force, that is, everything except for one rabbit who has become quite still. Your arrow has pierced its eye with extreme precision, but he's not surprised. Every piece of game you've ever brought back has been taken down that exact same way.

You collect the rabbit, removing and cleaning your arrow before continuing on deeper into the woods. Daryl doesn't mean to follow, but something spurs him onward. He's never really cared much for art, but if that's what you are, call him a damn aficionado. He's fascinated.

It takes a little while, but you suddenly pause. He spots the reason why - a large gray squirrel clings to the bark of a nearby tree, tail twitching. You take aim, graceful and smooth. But then, like last time, you hold your stance for one breath, then a second, and suddenly the squirrel quirks its head and bolts. He expects you to show at least some disappointment, but you simply let down your bow and continue on.

This happens a few more times; you find your prey, ready your bow, and then wait. Sometimes you loose your arrow and other times you practically allow the animal to get away. This time you have your aim trained on a rather large rabbit, probably a buck. It turns, ready to run, and Daryl can tell you aren't going to shoot this one, so he does. As soon as his bolt hits its target your entire body pivots.

He immediately finds himself at the business end of your bow, but the sharpness of your glare currently feels like the larger threat. "Are you following me?" You ask, lowering your weapon. The glare remains, although it seems to be softening.

You'll know he's lying if he says he isn't, but he doesn't want to admit that he is. "Why d'yuh wait, when ya got'um in your sights?" He blurts out.

You place the arrow back in your quiver with a sigh. "You are following me."

"Jus' curious." He shrugs.

You look up to the sky. "Dunno... Don't like killing things." Your gaze lands on the dead rabbit laying a little ways away. "Figure I'll give 'em one last chance to keep on livin'."

He lets out a snort. Hunting is a way to secure a meal, not some moralistic nonsense. "So, yer like a damn fairytale princess or somethin'?" He asks. "Bes' friends wi'the woodland creatures an'all that?" He waves his hands around for emphasis.

Your face hardens. "It'd be different if we really needed the food." You say sternly, turning to stalk away, back towards the farm. He grabs the now-joined rabbit and bolt and jogs after you, but you're moving at a surprisingly quick clip, dodging branches and roots with ease.

When he's nearly caught up, you stop suddenly and he barely avoids plowing straight into you. You whip around to face him and he instinctively takes a step back. But you're not angry, at least not in the way that he was expecting. He'd been prepared for a slap in the face, not the deep sadness in your eyes. "Feels like some sorta mercy I guess." You say quietly.

He doesn't feel bad about what he said, but your answer catches him off guard. The world is as cruel and as harsh as it's ever been. It doesn't care who lives and who dies, and it sure as hell isn't handing out second chances. "Not much'a that goin' around righ' now." He replies solemnly.

"I don't wanna turn into someone who loses that." Your voice is soft and almost pleading and it pulls at something buried within him.

With a jolt he's thrown into his own past. He knows what that loss does to a person, how much of his life he's spent terrified of becoming that. You're beginning to make a little more sense now. "Yuh, won't." He assures.

---

As time passes, when you do desperately need the food and mercy is barely a reality, Daryl finds himself fighting to protect yours. When the two of you hunt, he insists you take point, that you stick to the way you did things that day at the farm. He'll be right behind you, your backup, he'll do what you shouldn't have to. That part of you - that's something that can't afford to ever be lost. He'll do everything in his power to see to that.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 2 #optimist pine

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throwaway-yandere · 4 months

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𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑵𝒖𝒐𝒗𝒐 (Yandere!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: I love Dainsleif with every fiber of my being, do you guys know that? Anyways, just like all Dain-fics, this one has illustrations (I hope they give Fairytale book vibes). I’d like to thank @meimeimeirin cuz this was an idea we were laughing abt at 4am and somehow I made something out of it HAHA.

Unreliable Synopsis: “Fairytale worlds follow fairytale laws. There’s always a protagonist burdened with impossible tasks who will experience the rule of three, witness transformations, find talking animals, and learn the power of kept promises. So, before you embark on your journey, "princess" (Y/n), have you heard of the Ugly Duckling’s tale?”

CW: light yandere themes, fairytale!au just for the hell of it. HURT/NO COMFORT. Late/Advanced happy birthday, Dainsleif.

"The destined knight is late," the great dragon clicked his tongue. One would expect that an inferior creature such as an ugly duckling would quake and shrink while perched on the Dragon King's hand. But their expression was nothing short of serene. There is a veneer of calm that the great Dragon Ongri did not overlook.

The "duckling" had the eyes of an old gentleman with worldly disinterests.

He was longing for death.

𝕺nce upon a time, there was an ugly duckling who was abandoned by both their siblings and mother. Oftentimes, he was pecked by his peers, sneered into thinking his big head and scarred face. were both a reason for his survival and misery all the same. The ugly duckling thought himself unloveable no matter where he went. The small waters he was born in had no room for miscreation, and when he traveled to an elderly's house elsewhere, the chickens thought him useless and undesirable. Normally, the story would've been a happier bedtime story if he had gone to meet the Royal birds and begged for them to end his life. Maybe then, he would've realized that he had not been a duck but a swan all along. But alas, our poor ugly "duckling" found his feet at the hands of the great Dragon King- Ongri's mercy.

"Will you kill me?" The ugly duckling asked calmly. "You need to release your anger, and I can be but one of many casualties."

"I am not a creature of impulse."

The divine dragon scowled. "After Bars' and Fein' deaths, the concept that this realm dubs as Time and Moments is now under my jurisdiction. I've no use for wasted breaths."

As it happens, the dragon was in a troubling situation. There is an immediate need for a substitute. Sensing the urgency of fate's call, Ongri unleashed an ancient incantation. Feathers singed into flesh, wings clipped into arms, and in a burst of radiant light, the "ugly duckling" was reborn as a human knight. His body had scar-like spots from the Divine Dragon infusing him with magic, albeit the metamorphosis was far from flawless. Even as a human, he was imperfect. Mysterious dark blue "burn lines" traced his neck and arms. With the new human's eyes still closed, the dragon spoke to him, the last for a long time: "Forget your past and this whole affair." He commanded. "Go, find and protect your princess."

It mattered not if this was the last breath Ongri would tell him, besides…

When a god applies a curse, it takes effect at a higher level of reality than the person themselves.

“(Y/n)…”

“It’s me, Dainsleif… Can you… still remember my voice?”

“…”

“I… understand that once a person reaches this stage of the curse, their senses get muted. The remnants of those who once dwelled here must have been the catalyst of your ailments worsening..”

“… I’m sorry. I am incredibly sorry that I found you at such a later time. It did not occur to me that you would be here in the Chasm.”

“In our next fairy tale, I’ll—”

“No… I cannot subject you to any more empty promises… But know this:”

“I will keep you safe from now on.”

“So, do not leave my side ever again.”

And the new knight opened his eyes.

Memories of the dragon vanished from his mind. He was now a being of larger flesh and bones without recollections of his past. Should another human take his shoes, they would know that it was a fresh awakening. His first breath tasted like rich champagnes. Golden. Even the sun shone in such resplendent light that made the world seemingly revolve around him.

His legs wobbled. Sliding onto the grassy area, he caught a sight of his hair. Blonde. Like hay— they were golden threads silkily strewn about. He soon noticed that the rest of his complexion was a light pinkish-hued color, as did the hands that prevented his head from taking a serious fall.

The reborn “ugly duckling” may have forgotten why, but he felt alienated from his own body. And he has the Divine Dragon to thank for his new vessel and plain armor.

“Help! Someone, HELP!!!”

His ears perked up. It was a scream with a fervor of a “damsel in distress”. Vent clamor as she may with her whole throat, nothing would come out of it.

But fate will not allow this untimely demise. Quick on his new feet, the new knight dashed towards the sound. No cavalry— just a single determined mind. After running for some time, the unnamed knight did not come across any souls.

That is, until he found the young maiden he was “fated” to save. She was on the ground, clinging into her wrist as though she burned her hand. In the ground laid an iron sword, begging to be drawn.

At the sight of the wild animal bearing down on her with frightening speed, the “knight” took her weapon and charged towards the scene, raising it in front of the menacing beast. He gazed at the bear that towered over him, displaying its slobbery maw and long, pointed claws. The untamed creature snarled and dropped to strike.

Perhaps the Divine Dragon saw his noble pursuits, perhaps he was naturally gifted in combat, but the bear was unable to rake the man’s body. Miraculous it was that not a single nasty laceration was left on his person. He lacked the strength to take it down in one fell swoop, but the speed he had made up for it. Like swans that swerved through the wind and flow of water, he dodged all its attacks. With a few strikes from his blade, the bear falls...

He breathed out, shaking in his boots though he tried not to show it. Straightening his body, he met the maiden’s gaze. His blue eyes met hers in a piercing gaze, nearly taunting her as his new opponent. The young lady exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“T-Thank… you…”

Subconsciously, he circled the shoulder that recklessly swung the sword around. The new “knight” tilted his head. For what? He wished to ask, but words did not come out.

“For saving me, of course.”

The maiden gracefully stood. Her garments had lost some of their value due to the soil and dirt, but she herself was not affected in the same way. She exuded a fierceness that suggested anyone who ventured to hurt her would be receiving more than they bargained for. Instead of tucking her hair to the back, she pulled them forward, hiding her ears.

“Do allow me to introduce myself, kind knight.” She cleared her throat softly. “You may call me Princess (F/n), daughter of King Regan and current crown princess— heir to the throne upon the late Prince Pierre’s demise. May I know your name?”

…

… Silence…

The princess tilted her head.

"... Does my savior have a name?"

"... Name?"

The young man paused.

He couldn't remember his name. In actuality, he had absolutely no memory of anything. His mind was a bottomless pit with little to no air. With wide eyes, his hand moved slowly to around his neck. The act of conjuring up his supposed name left him terrified for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Does he… not have a name?

“... You must be joking.” The princess deadpanned. “How can one not have a name? Were you not baptized under the Divine Dragon’s light?”

She sounded incredibly upset by this fact. Whatever she ranted on about, it must be a human tradition.

“Do you not know how important names are—” The princess sighed, “Never mind. I shall assume you are one of those orphaned folks. Besides, if what you say is true, bestowing you a new name is a power much more potent.”

“I… want a name.” The man spoke up rather shyly, voice almost inaudbile.

"I know, I know… Huh, I usually take names rather than gifting them," the princess chuckled. She seemed wholly aware of his dilemma. "Hmm… Let me see…"

She examined his features closely. He was dressed in the traditional knightly fashion, albeit slightly altered. The holy kingdom's knights, of course, never donned masks—especially not half of one. He was strange, but there was an innocent genuineness about him. The blonde man doesn't have a polished appearance. He looked like a lost duckling.

It was rude to stare at the peculiar blue wounds on his face far too long so the princess’ eyes trailed above his hair.

"Leaf…" She pointed upward. "Leaf."

The knight blinked.

What a peculiar sounding name.

"Understood." He nodded and bowed politely. "I shall now be referred to as Leaf."

"No, I meant—" The princess cut herself off and chuckled. "Oh, well. I meant the leaf on one's head. But certainly the name Leaf does suit you fine."

“Do place your iron sword away, Leaf.” She added, cringing. “It is unbecoming of a knight to point a sword to their princess.”

“May… May I ask as to why you were attacked by a bear?”

“Quite bold of you to inquire a royal about a recent assassination attempt,” she humored him with a smile. He safely assumed she would not enact punishment for his assertiveness. “If you must satiate your curiosity, it is exactly that. An assassination attempt. They believed since my brother had fallen so easily, I myself must be an easy game since I adore wandering around the forest.”

“And they seem to be right,” Leaf muttered, wittily referring to the incident prior that arranged this fated meeting.

“Oh?” She scoffed, her polite smile remaining intact. “You’ve quite the tongue. Are you from the valleys?”

“I do not know.”

She squinted.

“Hmm, I see.” The princess exhaled and shook her head disapprovingly. “Then I am to presume that I should also use my wits to cleverly weave a background for you much like your name, Leaf?”

“You wish for me to serve you, that I can tell, and for that to happen I would need your equal assistance,” Leaf spoke solemnly. “I do not recall anything of my past, but you can always make one for me.”

Leaf knelt in front of her. Silence ensued.

“You are deadly calm for a man who wished his history be erased…” The princess muttered.

Leaf was a strange man indeed. He was perceptive, yet he spoke like fate’s pawn. That is to say, the princess noticed he only ever says the truth. His countenance conveyed little desire to adopt rebellious ideologies. To be honest, there was nothing in those contrivedly starry eyes. It was bare. A false sky.

It almost made the princess worry for his lack of self-preservation had she not been the same. Lies were always at her hands’ disposal, and she greatly hoped it was not what her heart would contain in her last pages. She didn’t wish for a life of deceit. The princess's survival solely comes from her ability to “doublespeak”.

“I see your promise. You are made of self-mettle. Although your blunt tongue may mar your fortunes sooner before you could gaze upon His Majesty, I wish to prescribe you with new duties.”

She took a deep breath.

“This directive shall not be withdrawn in the name of the Divine Dragon. Leaf, a young knight from the Valley of Gaciea who will shortly be appointed retainer to the Royal Highness, Princess (F/n), kneels before me. Until the end of time, he shall be my sword, and I will be his master. Will you keep your word and uphold the oath— the promise?”

“I will.”

Not a moment did he hesitate. Not for a second did he think there was more to life than this. It was nearly bitter. His life sounded so simple to her tongue.

But it was a contract nonetheless.

A promise that must be fulfilled.

“I find myself stirred in restless days without you my by side. You haunted me so diligently this past 500 or so years.”

“Humor me, won’t you… my b-beloved?”

“Why have you hid away from me? Why did I have to find you in this state? Furred and mute. Didn’t you take a breath to think about how much your pain would mean a greater weight for me? Have you not a second thought about how much it pains me to see you like this— bearing the fangs of the abyss and the claws of the cursed…?”

“The only sigh of relief I can release is that at least in this new sky, Ongri— no, he calls himself Zhongli these days— would get between us no more.”

“This new fairy tale… For how long do you expect me to keep this promise, (Y/n)? How many more stories must we get through for us to reach a happy ending?”

“Please… I’m begging you… Say something!!!”

“…”

“… Speak… Please… Anything…”

“Tell me about our past rendezvous. Seduce me with your musings. Anything… can't you try, just for this special day?”

“Please… don’t turn your mask away from me…”

“Do you find time to flow as quick as the waters by the stream? I am inclined to believe this sentiment. I find it astonishing that we’ve spent eleven or so moonshines joined at a hip. Time ages us but we are none the wiser.”

Leaf grunted, heaving Princess (F/n)’s inventory as she spoke. He didn’t seem distressed by the weight and his princess appeared not at all troubled as well. At least, that what it seemed on the surface. Royals must make their superiority known. Leaf knew (F/n) wanted to also carry some of the bags, but he refused.

There were several notions Leaf refused that noon. When (F/n) entertained the thought of going out as herself and by herself, he disapproved with haste. Leaf had to know where she’s going, who she was going with, what she’s going to wear— just about everything. His voice alone overwhelmed the princess enough that you’d mistake him for the king. The knight practically ordered what she would wear and what route she’d have to take if she wished to see the ongoing festival.

Being herself was a safety hazard and being alone by herself was a death wish.

To his eyes, at least. He had always been a twinge too overprotective.

It was a hectic morning with a picture-perfect, almost cliche scene of bustling streets and frolicking kids on a medieval setting. While children would swerve around adults' legs to avoid getting tagged, adults walked slowly to hear each gossip. One kid had nearly hit the princess herself, but Leaf would not allow it.

Leaf pulled (F/n) away by putting an arm over her waist. The smell of her sweet perfume surprised him. Her smell reminded him of the forest. For the knight who professed to guard her innocence, her warm body lightly pressed against his was a fleeting but almost immoral moment. He set her down slowly, gasping quietly. The princess chose not to draw attention to the troubled expression on her most reliable retainer.

It was better not to acknowledge his growing romantic interests.

To her, he is only a sword.

Even if he is a friend, at the end of the day, he’s only a weapon to be used.

The princess quickly pulled the cape down further to hide her face— mostly her ears. For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to find that part of herself worthy of great insecurity.

He cleared his throat, face dusted in a pink hue.

“You say that time affects you, but you haven’t aged a day.”

The princess laughed.

“Finally, a compliment from a man as stoic as you? Oh, what a day to rejoice!”

Leaf shook his head with a small smile.

“I had given you one on several occasions.”

“That may be true, but random bouts of flattery from you are scarce.” The princess hummed. “I vaguely recall how getting anything out of you was like trying to get a frozen little duckling to quack. Who am I? Your mother duck?”

The smirk on his face was quick, but (F/n) definitely saw it.

Several staff once questioned Leaf’s ability to speak. Many, including (F/n)’s father, were convinced he was mute. Everyone in the castle knew of the princess’s peculiar tastes and thought Leaf’s recruitment was a mere byproduct. His masked appearance and strange scars added more fuel to those rumors. When Leaf defended (F/n) from another assassination attempt in front of the king and inquired about her condition, King Regan nearly toppled from where he stood.

After being bombarded with questions, Leaf merely said he refrained from speaking since he saw no use if he wasn't talking to the princess herself. (F/n) still finds it absurd that she has to give orders for him to talk to other people.

For Leaf, it was simple: he just didn’t see the point of forming other interpersonal relationships.

(F/n) was the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Only her.

Only she is worthy to serve and protect.

“You truly are like a little duckling following his mother’s tail,” Princess (F/n) sighed. “But you have vastly improved in our time together. That, I can commend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Leaf laughed softly, mocking her tone in his signature subtle way. “Oh, what a day to rejoice.”

She playfully gave him an elbow nudge. “Do not copy me, Leaf.”

“My apologies.”

Princess (F/n) was meandering around because the harvest festival was drawing closer. With her own eyes, the princess intended to see how her people were faring. Rarely did she change into a more "common" outfit and styled her hair with simplicity. Though, if you were to ask Leaf, seeing her in her most simple clothes made her far more youthful than the garbs and crown that wrinkles her smile to a frown.

“Madame, would you be interested in buying your lover here a brooch?”

Both of them stilled as a merchant called out. The undercover royal pointed to herself.

“Yes, yes, of course I’m talking to you, gorgeous!” The merchant grinned. He had silver hair that slightly covered one of his blue eyes. “Do you want matching rings instead? We’re selling for fifty percent off!”

Leaf’s gaze was stern. Despite his reservations, he knew the merchant as Alfstan, another young knight who hailed from a family of vendors. Two moonshines ago, Leaf was (forcefully) placed on training duty and had the fortune of mentoring this aspiring knight.

Mind you— nothing was particularly dubious of his wares. Leaf just simply despised having another man brazenly take your attention away. He did not find their previous exchanges pleasant. Not when Alfstan often joked about replacing his position one day.

What hubris.

While he busied himself glaring at the poor man, the princess awkwardly laughed and dismissively waved a hand. “Oh, no, he and I— we are not—”

“Haha, I know, I was just pulling your leg, Your Highness.” Alfstan grinned, giving Leaf a quick nod. “Morning, Sir Leaf! Were you showing the princess around?”

“Shhh! Be quiet!” (F/n)'s eyes widened.

He protectively wrapped an arm around (F/n) again, this time far more confidently.

“Yes.” Leaf spoke, voice as solid as his resolve.

“Mind if I tag along?”

His stare sharpened. “I would very much mind, now return to your stall.”

The princess shook her head, poorly judging her retainer’s possessive words as acts of protection. Instead, she dwelled on their attire. “Drats, was our disguise that fragile?”

Alfstan assessed her from top to bottom, which made Leaf even more tense. “Eh, you’re really gorgeous that no cloak can hide your beauty, Your Highness.”

“I have to agree,” Leaf said stiffly, clearing his throat. “Perhaps I should hide her in a hay sack. WIthout your prying eyes.”

(F/n) raised an eyebrow. “And what? And be suspected of kidnapping me instead?”

Leaf shrugged. “Does that sound like an offense I would commit?”

Alfstan rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Besides, the only way you wouldn’t get caught is if you hid her in something as small as a teapot.”

And he would be right. But it will take eons to prove those suspicions as truth.

“Going back to your wares, Sir Alfstan,” (F/n) digressed. “These iron-framed tassels, are they made by your hand?”

Alfstan's respect for the princess grew.

“Yes, how did you come up with that conclusion? Most passersby believed I had ‘em commissioned from the East.”

(F/n) smiled crookedly. Leaf caught a glimpse of discomfort, but it was gone in a bat of an eye.

“I… I admire your skill with molding iron.” To the untrained ear, (F/n) sounded flustered and embarrassed. To Leaf, he was certain that she was unsure of herself. “It is commendable, how you smith your very own weapons, that is. I know many of our soldiers come to you when their blades are chipped.”

“You’ve heard of my skills?!” Alfstan beamed proudly. “Really?!”

The princess nodded. “Y-Yes…”

It was odd. Despite her high praise, her wariness remained. She looked at the blonde man. “He had also made your new Ulfberht sword too, right? It certainly pierces much better than his old one.”

Leaf didn’t bother with a reply, Alfstan made it for him.

“Yes, Your Highness. I thought it would make for a thoughtful birthday present!”

“Speaking of presents…” The princess gazed down, analyzing the items he sold once more. “What do you recommend as a gift for someone important?”

If Alfstan was elated by her earlier compliments, he could practically jump over the moon at her newest proposition.

“Oh? OH?!?”

Leaf gave (F/n) a strict yet gentle glare.

“Your Highness…”

“I still won’t let it slide!” (F/n) huffed. “I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just new sets of armor. Alfstan, by my order, suggest a pleasant gift for the stubborn knight beside me.”

“On it!”

Without delay, the two bent down to select the ideal accessory for the man who vehemently refused. Alfstan was the only one touching the gems and (F/n) refrained from doing so. Tiny flecks of gold and iron infused the tassels, but she feared she would handle the stones carelessly.

Leaf palmed his face with one hand as the two chattered. Still, despite Leaf’s disapproving looks, he finds (F/n)’s enthusiasm to make him happy a wonderful notion in itself. To think that (F/n) would continue to insist on a present for a birthday that had since passed… She was more stubborn than he was.

“So troublesome…” He muttered with a soft smile. “I see no point in this, Princess (F/n). Serving you is a miracle enough itself—”

“Halt! Speak no more, Sir Leaf!” (F/n) exclaimed. “There! That one, Alfstan— that gem resembles his eyes, does it not?!”

“You have great tastes, Princess (F/n)!” Alfstan nodded eagerly like a motivated student. “That does look like his shade of blue— and so quick to find it among the pile, too! Are you sure you’re not some sort of custodian of natural treasures?”

Princess (F/n)’s awkward and stifled laughter can be heard again.

“What? Haha, what nonsense.” She shook her head. “Everyone calls me Princess (F/n), any other name would surely sound terrifying and mismatched.”

A nonanswer, but that made the conversation more humorous.

“Here you go!”

Alfstan reached his hand out with the tassel. (F/n) stared at him, silent and unsure. He blinked and snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right, you need a box— my deepest apologies, I was too caught up in the moment!”

The princess sighed in relief.

Leaf crossed his arms. “You’re doing well for your first time setting up a stall, Alfstan.”

“This isn’t my first and you know it, Sir!”

(F/n) laughed.

The merchant wrapped the gift she brought with care. The hush looms large around them as the merchant boastfully goes about his business, his tone comforting to her ears. The Princess walks over to the gift box once the merchant has finished. She can't help but smile because she can feel the tassel inside.

“Not exactly a surprise since Sir Leaf is here, but the packaging adds some charm, right?” Alfstan asked.

The princess couldn’t hold back a smile as she looked at the knight behind her.

“I think most of the charm comes from the person who’ll receive it,” (F/n) chuckled.

“Don’t you think so, Leaf?”

She wouldn’t know. And she’d never know a lot of things.

She never got the chance to ask her most precious knight if he liked that gift.

And she never will. No matter how many days, months, years, centuries— eons Leaf would wait, he would never hear the princess ask that same question again after this.

It would not matter if he was a judge, a prince, a knight, or a mere animal— it did not matter how many sweet new styles he would take. In the end, his arms will always be empty. Everything was pre-ordained. Dying in his arms, whether it’s slow and painful or mercilessly quick— will remain as the last line. He will always hold on to your corpse, warmth draining.

This was your fate, (F/n)— no, (Y/n) (L/n).

This was just the first of many branches of the Irminsul. The first of its many reiterations, possibilities, or better yet, alternate tales or "universal resets".

Princess "(F/n)" coughed, wetting the side of her lips.

"I haven't been able to p-personally attach that tassel on your s-sword, b-but… but I can spare you enough seconds to fly away…"

"Don't make haste!" Leaf gritted his teeth as he applied some pressure down her stomach. "This is not your decision to make!"

She didn't reply to his desperation, but she silently disagreed.

In her palm was the tassel, out of its box. The blue threads darkened with the taints of her blood. The metallic scent was nauseating. It weaved in a disorganized fashion around her fingers.

What a beautiful and tragic loom of fate, to love someone you were bound to hold with ruin.

It would’ve hurt less if it weren’t in his colors too.

"This marks the worst day of my life," the “princess” smiled, tucking the stray hair behind Leaf's face. "And even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't dare c-change not even a minute detail about it."

As if she— as if you— have the power to change destiny.

You're not a descender.

You're just a pawn.

That's when Leaf realized how fragile life ultimately was. With the curse undoing itself, he recalled and reflected on his animal days. He understood the Divine Dragon's intense frustration over a lowly duckling's will to perish. The curse of becoming human meant knowing the greed men had, but also the beauty of their kindness.

His small bird heart was not meant for this much sorrow. His life was meant to be simple. To learn that he was not a duck, but a swan.

How was he supposed to cope that the woman he had sworn to protect was not human, but a fae?

Everyone in the kingdom knew that the king would sooner disclaim his paternity than allow the crown princess (F/n) to truly lead— but they never had any real reason to support the king for this. The princess’s words were always more kind and ponderous than that of her supposed father’s. They thought him mad. They thought him deplorable. They thought him old and senile.

But he would not be king if he were not sharp.

Why, oh why, would the princess make great efforts to constantly hide her ears? Why would the princess utter roundabout ways in speaking her “own” name? Most of all, why would the princess fear the touch of iron?

There was a simple answer: she was not the princess, but a liar.

And yet, Leaf was the sole person who did not care, for he thought himself as the worst sinner or “quack” in comparison.

The kingdom won't learn the full truth for some time after this, but the fae made a bargain with the real princess. The real princess would elope with a farm boy and, in return, the fae would take her name. The trade was not malevolent. The two women were secret friends since childhood and neither wished the other harm.

But the townsfolks had little patience. They would sooner throw pebbles and stones than kneel for a false princess.

The moral of the story, like most Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales, was simple: virtue will be rewarded, iniquity will be punished. The storytellers do not care beyond that, no matter how dark it sounds to the children who will hear it. The fae lied, therefore the kingdom shall rightfully punish her.

They better thank the dragon they oh-so admire that the court fae did not think themselves evil. They better sleep soundly, knowing that they have slaughtered a well-intentioned guardian.

For he will not and never will.

Not even with a change of title, name, and universe. Whether the land he walked on was called Gaciea, Fodlan, Belobog, the Continental, or Teyvat— what the world steals from him, he promised to take back.

There the two were, back to where it started. The same forest and patch of land where the bear had attacked her. Fate had a funny way of telling tales. Leaf can only scoff at how unimaginative it could be, sometimes.

Why couldn’t fate think of more comfortable deathbeds for the one he loved?

"You cannot allow this! I cannot allow this!" The knight gritted his teeth. "You will not die— you cannot die. You and I have a promise… You cannot break that one promise!!!”

“(F/n)” grinned.

The look in her eyes disturbed him.

She knew. It is finished. She knew that it was the last page of the book. Just living in these immortalized pages for the fae was well worth the want she had wanted.

“Consummatum est.”

Consummatum est….

Leaf gasped shakily.

“Did my life… even have meaning to you as well?”

Her expression was enough to tell him the words “who knows?” She surely did not. Her mind was buzzing and her thoughts were fizzling out. No one knows anymore. Maybe the Divine Dragon would but he would not accept any offering or prayers for these two heretics.

This is fine… He’ll forget his tears soon, surely…

He’s only a sword at her side… She never asked him to be anything more…

He should be okay, once she’s gone…

She grinned, lifelessly tracing her thumb across his cheeks. The curse is undone. The loom of fate was slowly disintegrating. Soon enough, he shall return to his original form. That of an animal. That of an ugly duckling. That of a swan who will forget his human memories.

It is finished.

On the book’s final page, there is only ever a fae’s corpse and an elegant bird watching over them. With its wings clipped back, curiously watching the light leave their eyes, he will return to the nearby riverbanks and forget what had happened. As retribution for stealing another’s identity, there will be no one left to remember who she truly was.

And that was all there was to it.

With the fae banished, the Kingdom of Gaciea lived happily ever after. THE END.

Dainsleif closed the book and lovingly looked at the “person” beside him in bed. He stroked the “person”’s light brown hair— its color reminiscent of the bear he had slain in his first life. It’s a shame he had to reunite with you in this condition. But it’s not like he would stop loving you. He doesn’t care if you’re a fae, a sinner—

Or a hilichurl.

He scooted closer beside you.

"So, does the story ring any bells, my beloved?"

Zhongli, upon recalling what happened and the curse he had inflicted on both of you to fulfill some children’s fairy tale, sought the “ugly duckling” and the “false princess”. Retired as he is, he cannot undo the fate you must play nor terminate his contract with Celestia. For consolation, he merely offered the Khaenri’ahn a teapot. Unlike the Chasm, the teapot was forever peaceful and serene. The brightness of lumenstone ores was not as comforting as the adeptal light that peeks through the drapes. This is your current place of residence. Whether you liked it or not.

"To think Nicole would entail the story of our past life." He laughed softly. "And these names... Hah... Are those the best she could conjure up to bypass possible erasure…? I suppose I should still thank her for her best efforts. I can see how challenging it would be to document our story, given how we lived through so many resets."

There’s a slice of cake paired with wooden utensils on the nightstand. If your mind had not deteriorated, you might’ve assumed they were gifts from the aforementioned Nicole and the Geo Archon. Unfortunately, forming a coherent thought required a mental fortitude akin to iron. You currently do not have such willpower.

“Alfstan— no… Halfdan was right. There will come a time that he’d protect you from harm and not I…” Dainsleif mumbled defeatedly, his eyes burning with tears he couldn’t let out. Far too tired to dwell on it. “He must’ve forgotten his old jests in his previous life because as far as he’s concerned, he’s simply doing his duty as a Black Serpent Knight…”

He pecked your forehead, closing his eyes.

"Did you remember, my beloved? Vacation may not have any business being in my vocabulary but it is my birthday today…" Dainsleif leaned his forehead against the cold stone that covered your face. "I know you— do not feel guilty over your lack of gifts. It is not as if I bothered to count my age since the cataclysm. I didn't want to celebrate this occasion for the past five centuries. Not when you weren't at my side..."

The blonde man turned his gaze to the floor.

How many times will he have to “reincarnate” just to see a happy ending for the both of you?

"Happy birthday… to me…" He sang weakly. "Happy birthday to me…"

The man— the former sentimental judge— the former tyrant prince— the former "ugly duckling"— and now the current bough keeper, observer of fate in this new fairy tale, trembled…

“Happy birthday, happy birthday…”

… And sobbed.

You, in your ungreedy husk of a body, tilted your head in innocence. Pain coursed through every nerve now that the Abyss Order’s cleansing equipment broke. The man before you was no different from the shadows you fought and hid from that would terrorize the dark and cold places in the Chasm you’ve instinctively called home. But somewhere deep down, you carried a complex weight that hilichurls wouldn’t normally have.

That weight was a human emotion dubbed as "pity."

You pitied the shadow that loomed and embraced you.

And your lone reluctant arm that wrapped around him was enough to make him fully break down.

His throat constricted as he cried into your inhuman shoulders. Your scent was like that of a wet duckling, and he preferred that over the blood that disgraced your form several "fairy tales" ago. Dainsleif caressed the golden band on his finger. It was the most important ring between the two that Pari Zurvan found him clutching whilst unconscious in the wilderness.

At the very least, you were safe.

And you being alive today was a good enough present for him.

You tilted your head down, feeling his warmth one last time while Dainsleif took a deep breath, singing with more air than a proper tune.

Though it was barely discernible, he could just about make out the words you muttered a phrase from the old language of Khaenri'ah. Or at least, he deluded himself that that was the case. In his catatonic mind, you spoke the words:

Happy birthday, my beloved.

"H-Happy birthday to me…"

Taglist: @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen @dxprived4-starboys

#yandere dainsleif #yandere dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 days

Text

A Danish Werewolf in The City:

The First Sight.

Note: follow up to The First Shift. I have read this over and over and over again, and I just had to let it go and post it. May have missed some mistakes as my eyes literally hurt by now :')

Warnings: 18+! horror/gore described, mention of (child) death/murder. once again, it's a dark werewolf fic...

pairing: Werewolf!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You had fallen in love with a werewolf.

wordcount: 3,6k

Masterlist

Chapter 1.

That something had been different about Sihtric became evident during the first few months of your relationship.

You had first met at work, for you were both veterinarians, and you were transferred for a day to Sihtric's location as they were short staffed, and you both knew it was love at first sight. His hair was of shoulder length and braided, the sides were shaved freshly and his facial hair was well kept too. Sihtric was simply a breathtaking man, and he treated you with the utmost respect once you began dating, even asking permission before he first kissed you.

The first weeks of dating were like a dream, but then Sihtric suddenly started to disappear every few weeks for about three days. He had just gone without a word, but then showed up at your door again as if nothing had happened after those three seemingly random days. It was almost as if he died every few weeks, only to suddenly rise from the grave again and return to you, looking as beautiful and charming as ever, so you couldn't help but continue to fall for him and ignore your suspicions. Sihtric promised you that his disappearances had nothing to do with you, but that he sometimes struggled "with his own being", whatever that meant. But he soon felt inclined to open up to you and tell you about his wolf problem, as he sensed you began to doubt his loyalty due to his recurring strange behaviour.

And werewolves were not unheard of, nor were other creatures of the night, as you had treated numerous animals who had clearly been at the claws of those beings. You had just never met one and you surely never thought you'd fall in love with one, so you had a hard time accepting his honesty for a little while. You couldn't possibly imagine this was a curse he had lived with his whole life and only exposed itself during his late teens. And you, like any other regular human being, only knew of the fairytales which described werewolves as hideous monsters, and yet Sihtric wasn't a monster, for all you knew at least.

And he also wasn't the young and frightened boy anymore which he had told you about, yet it still saddened you gravely that he had lived such a tragic and lonely life, before he changed into the confident man he was now. Sihtric was clearly in full control of his other being too, only shifting when the Moon was full or when a situation called for it, so you chose to believe and trust him completely after you had taken a few days to yourself to let it all sink in. And you slowly began to understand him more and more.

The scars on his face had been something you used to ponder about at night, as he never gave you a clear answer to how he had gotten those. It was only after you found out about his beast-like nature that the scars, which graced his face as well as the rest of his impressive and muscular body, were claw markings he had earned in territorial brawls and violent fights over time, earning him the true alpha status he held now.

Sihtric's short temper, impatience and hunger for violence were also things you had been wary of at first, but it was already clear that he would never be aggressive towards you or those he cared for. He was only incredibly protective and possessive of you, both traits you didn't really mind as it made you feel safe and desired by a beautiful man. The way he always held you close in public or how he refused to let you walk home on your own once it was dark, it all made your heart beat faster for him. But you also never suspected Sihtric did those things out of a fear which was deeply rooted inside of him and every other werewolf; terrified of losing a loved one to a werewolf's natural enemy.

But the most peculiar thing about Sihtric were probably his sexual urges, and the fact that he seemed to have an insatiable sex drive. You could make love for an entire rainy day, and he still wouldn't be completely satisfied or even remotely tired, like a normal human would be. And for some reason he always insisted on being intimate in the dark, with the lights off and the curtains closed, which struck you as odd too, for his physical appearance was not one to be ashamed of.

Another thing was that Sihtric has a tendency to suddenly sink his teeth in your skin whenever you were intimate, never drawing blood or piercing your flesh, but hard enough to leave a mark behind on your body that was more serious than a simple love bite. You also swore you saw his eyes glow every time you had sex, one a bright red and the other a piercing blue. It seemed so inhuman, but you told yourself it had to be a reflection of some sort which simply enhanced his heterochromia. And it often felt as if his nails became sharper during intercourse, leaving scratches all over your skin and tearing up the sheets as well, and he loved to drag his tongue over your body, which felt pleasantly smooth but sometimes larger than a human tongue could possibly be. Sihtric also loves to chase you around his house whenever you'd stay over, before capturing you and throwing you on his bed, where he'd fuck you like a feral beast for hours on end.

He couldn't explain his needs and desires to you at the time, as he did not want to frighten you with the truth that he truly was a beast, and you just figured he was an intense lover. But once you knew the truth about him, everything just made sense. And as you were in love, you weren't necessarily frightened or worried, or even fully grasping the extent of what him being a werewolf meant.

And you couldn't even begin to imagine the horrific sights you were to witness, or the terrible stories you would hear…

You walked hand in hand with Sihtric, over a lonely path that led through darkened woods you both knew all too well. The moon was waning, barely visible as she was almost renewed again. It was a quiet and late summer night, the air was mellow and you were dressed in a loose shirt and some shorts, while Sihtric wore a sleeveless top and long dark jeans. Most people were long asleep already, but you and Sihtric were a match made in heaven as you both enjoyed the dark and quietness after sunset, and with your werewolf lover by your side you felt as if you had nothing left to fear for.

Several weeks had passed since you had fully accepted your werewolf boyfriend, and you had never been more in love. But the horrors you were to face soon, as you strolled through the woods while stealing kisses and murmuring sweet nothings to each other in the dead of night as your hands were intertwined, were horrors you would never forget for as long as your heart would beat.

'You don't dare to say it,' you giggled as you moved swiftly between the thick trees, playfully running and hiding from your beloved, who would always find you with ease due to his werewolf senses. But that didn't make it any less fun for either of you.

'Yes, I do,' Sihtric laughed as he caught you in his strong arms, and he brought you down to the ground without flexing a single muscle.

He quickly climbed on top of you and leaned in, cupping your cheeks and softly nuzzling your nose lovingly, while his low chuckle made you lightheaded and your lips curled into a smitten smile. You smelled the earthy scent of the ground beneath you as you were pinned down by a man so much stronger than you, but Sihtric had you so enchanted that you didn't even care your clothes would become dirty or your hair messy, and you had never felt more safe than you did whenever your body was pressed against his.

'Then say it,' you quietly dared him again as your hands moved up in his long loose hair, and slowly raked through it to which he closed his eyes and smiled.

'I love you,' Sihtric whispered, lips faintly touching yours, 'I really do.'

Your breath hitched when you finally heard those words you had so dared him to speak, and you pulled him in, closing the last small distance that was left and your lips locked in the sweetest, yet most needy kiss possible.

'Say you love me,' Sihtric growled softly, smiling, and he gently headbutted you.

'I love you too,' you smiled and trailed your hands down his chest.

Sihtric dropped his head with a shy smile upon hearing you say it, overwhelmed with his feelings for you, which were of such force that it almost made it hard for him to breathe. But his bliss was only short lasting when he suddenly caught a scent, and he snapped his head up while his face was set serious and his mismatched eyes wide. He sat completely still, and you could see his ears wiggly faintly at something you couldn't hear.

'What?' you asked, confused while running your hands over his arms as you looked up at him, 'what is it?'

'The undead,' Sihtric said monotonically and perked up further.

'What?' you half laughed.

'The undead. I smell them.'

'Wait,' you chuckled nervously, 'you mean like… zombies?'

Sihtric scoffed lightly and shook his head.

'I wish it was zombies,' he said and pulled you up with him, 'but I mean vampires, love.'

Sihtric placed his hand on the small of your back, politely urging you to walk with him as he gradually increased his speed, wanting to bring you back home safely and far away from the scent that lingered in the air for him. But before you could make it out of the woods, you were already surrounded.

Sihtric's eyes darted over the pale and heartbeat-lacking creatures, his jaw clenched tightly while he held you in his arms and pressed firmly against him. You weren't all that up-to-date about werewolves and their rivals, but you knew like most people that vampires and lycanthropes never got along, and you clung onto your still human shaped boyfriend while one vampire stepped forward.

'Well, well,' the pale man laughed, 'a dog and it's human, and what an endearing pup you are!'

'What is it you want?' Sihtric cut to the point, 'because this is neutral ground, so there is no need for anyone to get harmed.'

'Well,' the master vampire scoffed, who looked old and ugly, 'your father killed my wife on neutral ground. So it is only fair if I return the favour and kill,' he paused and gestured at you, 'whatever she is to you.'

'I have nothing to do with what my father-'

'Ah!' the vampire exclaimed as he sniffed the air, ignoring Sihtric, 'such fresh human blood running through her veins, but sadly… not a virgin anymore. Oh, well,' the old vampire shrugged while the others grinned, 'I'll take her anyway. And sure, you may have nothing to do with your father, but you are still a werewolf of his tribe.'

'I'm not part of his tribe!' Sihtric hissed, 'I created my own.'

'But you're all the same, are you not?' the vampire spoke slowly as he crept closer, 'sneaking into houses at night… waking up defenceless mothers… asking if you can take their child away… and in their hazy and disorientated state they might just give their permission, and that's another snack earned easily, no? And, oh, how you wolves hypnotise those children, as well as the cattle of the same poor family, with just your gazes. And for what? For thinking the curse could be broken? Such foolish dogs you are…'

You listened carefully and shivered at the ideas the ancient one bestowed. You looked up at Sihtric, whose face did all but ease your fright that he could be a monster such as described. Sihtric looked away from you, as if ashamed, and he only swallowed hard in response to your gaze while he looked down at his feet. The vampire became aware of your horror, and was entertained at the idea that you would most likely be disgusted with your partner now, and he laughed.

'Oh, does she not know?' he asked Sihtric, darkly amused, 'does she also not know how you attacked the very first human you encountered in your wolf form, after your first transition? Or the other thing you have done to try and break your curse, hm? Because I know all about you, Sihtric Kjartansson, and I could tell your lovely lady here all about you.'

Sihtric suddenly snarled, and you flinched at the guttural sound as he held you protectively in his arms.

'Don't!' Sihtric bared his teeth at the vampire, 'don't you dare-'

'This beast,' the vampire mocked Sihtric and looked at you, 'has attacked numerous pregnant women in his life, yes, yes. For those silly Danish werewolves all believe that if they were to eat a fresh male foetus, thus slicing open a poor lady's womb with a single scratch of their claw to obtain the unborn child, their curse would be broken.'

You felt dizzy and sick to your stomach while the vampire snickered. You had no response, you only stared intently and quietly at the master, wishing that his words were all just lies and that Sihtric would never do such a monstrous thing or believe such a horrible superstition. And you felt Sihtric's chest heave up and down as he fought his urge to shift, while a roaring anger boiled inside of him and his arms around you became tighter, almost suffocating.

Sihtric never meant to hide his blooddrenched past from you, but it was something he was deeply ashamed of and knew it would most likely scare you away from him. He wanted to tell you everything about him, but in time. You had only just gotten used to the fact that he was a werewolf, and he intended on easing you into the awful secrets of his past, but now a truly dark page of his life was suddenly exposed to you. His early days as a young werewolf had been confusing, violent and bloody, as he had tried everything he possibly could to undo his first transformation. No matter how horrific it was, Sihtric tried everything, he even tried to undo his werewolf being by converting to Christianity at some point.

'And… did it work, wolf boy?' the elder snickered, 'killing those harmless women and eating their children?'

'Would you like to find out? You filthy fucking bloodsucker!' Sihtric threatened, and the vampires began to close in rapidly.

Sihtric shoved you behind him, and he bared his teeth at the vampires before he told you to run.

'Run and don't look back, whatever you hear,' he urged and gave you a light push, 'run home, and don't invite anyone in who might show up at your door.'

'I… I-,' you stammered, visibly shaking and still in shock after everything that had just happened, but Sihtric cut you off before you could say anything else.

'Run! Now!' he growled, and you did as you were told.

You turned and ran as fast as you possibly could to exit the woods, but when you heard the sudden sound of clothes being ripped at the seams and the awful sound of bones snapping, you stopped running. You turned to face Sihtric again while you were at a distance, and what you then witnessed couldn't be anything other than a nightmare. You saw how your boyfriend grew and ripped out of his clothes, and you heard his bones snap as he deformed and fell down on all fours. You watched and heard him grunt and growl, while every muscle in his body contracted until a sudden thick coat of fur appeared on his bare back and his face changed into that of a monstrous being. Your eyes grew wide at the horrific sight of the half man-half wolf, who had told you he loved you only moments ago. And you felt sick at the sight of his blooded claws and those sharp teeth, remembering how he had used those to devour humans and cattle with. Those same hands that had caressed you and those same teeth he had dragged over your naked body, only so carefully and full of love, unlike what he had used them for on others.

You saw how Sihtric got up on his back legs, being twice his human size and towering over the vampires like an optical illusion. His muscular torso was still recognisable, even with the thin layer of black fur covering it now. And he was a… a beast. A foul creature of the night! And yet he still had enough human traits that you recognised your boyfriend in the murderous animal in the distance. You opened your mouth as you wanted to scream at the terrifying sight, but no sound ever left your throat as you watched the horror unfold while you were nailed to the ground.

The vampires had long forgotten about you, they'd rather slaughter a werewolf than drink the blood of a polluted human who had slept with their enemy. And you then heard Sihtric's deafening and bone chilling howl echoing through the dark night as he threw his head back, and he raised his massive arms and began to swing at the vampires who dared to take their chance. You heard the nauseating sound of claws ripping through flesh and the splattering of blood against the thick trees, and the sight of limbs being ripped and torn off was a terror you would never forget, while the bone crunching sound of it made you fall to your knees, and you retched as you began to cry.

And after you had witnessed half of the vampire massacre, which seemed to happen in slow motion while in reality it all went so fast, Sihtric snapped his head towards you, and he snarled loudly at you before he was jumped by the remaining vampires. His snarl was so heavy and frightening that it rumbled through the air and made you jump up, and you began to run again as fast as your legs allowed. And as the tears rolled down your face while you ran, you covered your ears upon hearing what sounded like a dog wince and cry in pain. You knew the heartbreaking noise came from Sihtric, but you were too afraid to look back, so you ran home…

You weren't sure how much time had passed after you had reached your home and locked the doors behind you with blind panic. You only remembered running upstairs, to your bedroom, where you threw up and fainted once you sat down on your bed, not having closed your bedroom window.

You were woken up sometime later, the sky outside still dark while the streets were quiet, and you slightly raised your head up when a sudden sense of dread alarmed you. You held your breath once you caught a foul whiff of the smell of blood and flesh, and you slowly turned to face the nightmare that stood in your room, which had climbed in through your window and had shredded your curtains. You cowered at the shadowy sight of your werewolf boyfriend towering over you as he stood at the end of your bed, and you began to cry for help. Sihtric then whined and backed off, throwing his large, hairy and clawed hands up to show you he meant no harm, but he also understood you were terrified of him as you hid your face behind your hands while you muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

Sihtric was too ashamed to shift back to his human form, he couldn't possibly face you as himself, but he knew he also couldn't keep his current shape. So he crouched down and, out of your sight, shifted from his horrible werewolf figure into that of a large black coated wolf. He then carefully moved closer and climbed on your bed. You yelped and flinched at his first touch; a light headbutt to your shoulder to gain your attention, and you then slowly lowered your hands and saw the monster was no longer there anymore. Instead, there was a beautiful big black wolf staring at you, with the big and recognisable mismatched puppy dog eyes of the man you loved, and a calming sensation seemed to wash over you.

You sniffled and backed away at first when you felt his tongue wipe away your tears, but you believed he meant well and allowed him to come closer again. Sihtric headbutted you once more, lovingly, and he then wrapped his front legs around you and pushed you to lay down. You turned to face him, and you couldn't stop yourself from grabbing onto his thick fur and burying your face in it as you began to cry again. 'Sihtric,' was all you could whisper, to which he whined softly. Sihtric was heartbroken to see you like this and knowing he was the cause of it all, and he pulled you in closer with his paws. He used his big, soft and bushy black tail as a security blanket, enveloping you whole while he held you tightly wrapped in his front legs, with his big fluffy wolf head resting on top of yours.

You were safe.

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