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yaut-jaknowit · 1 month

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Okay lil idea! Don’t force urself to do this I had to write this down before I forget.

Fem reader who has a soothing lullaby voice while also good at singing!, reader lives in a cabin deep in the woods, hunts and build her own tools, she uses a bow and arrow, got that magnificent strong will, stubborn as shit tho, never backs down from a challenge no matter how overpowered her enemy is. Very smart mouth always fights back never fail to step back from a fight.

Fem reader x We'ar-ow

Siren Calls for a Challenge

Pairing: We'ar-ow (female Yautja) x Reader

Word Count: 3913

Summary: Deep in the woods of Alaska, far up north in the state, you have a little hut. It serves it purpose throughout the years and seasons. You live and hunt up there, far from civilization. The best life you've known. As you venture out for a hunt you've planned, there a shimmer in the tree line.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if I did the smart mouthing right. I had to look up good comebacks and comments as such for this. I tried to make the reader be super sassy... I hope it works! I do love sassy reader who gives no fucks about a Yautja. I should probably write more like that.

Masterlist

Ao3

Deep in the lands of Alaska, was a small little hut that worked perfectly. Just enough space to house one person and the necessities of life. A life of hardships, surviving in world meant for kill or be killed. You enjoyed it. The challenges brought to you almost everyday. The need to hunt for you own food. Even down to creating your own weapons to hunt for said food.

Guns and bullets are useful out here, easier to use against a large predator such as a bear. Yet, to get the ammo and supplies was another thing. It required you to leave the safety of the lands and travel more than fifty miles on foot alone to reach even the nearest civilization. It wasn’t a risk that was worth when arrows are craftable out here. A more renewable source for weapons. Use what the land gives in plenty.

In the confines of your hut, your vocal cords hummed with a tune your parents sung to you while young. Though, it’s original use was to lull you to sleep, now you use to fill in the silence that pierced the air. It was a soft tune that you remembered by heart, letting muscle memory guide you. Both in song and craft

More arrows were needed before the next hunt took place tomorrow morning. The supply was running low after the wind kept knocking them off course a week ago. You still brought down the elk, a smaller one than you meant to. It’s last you the week but supplies were running low. With winter coming as well, you truly needed to stock up on food before the first cold freezes over everything. All the creatures will either hunker down or rarely venture out. You couldn’t do either of those. Your stomach still needed to be filled during that time. Plus, the extra pelts never hurt to be dried and put to good use.

The last arrow had been created and sheathed into your quiver. That was set by the door with your trusty bow. A hunting knife was hung by its sheath next to the bow. Lastly, a machete for anything that tried to be up close and personal with you. This is Alaska. A dangerous land that tried to kill anyone on it, no matter who or what you are.

As the sun rose high above the ground, you slipped every piece of gear needed. Hunting knife? Check. Bow and arrows? Check. Machete? Check. Food and water? Also check. Once you deem everything in order, you stepped out into the chilling air. The door creaked closed behind you.

Cool air filled your lungs to the brim and enjoyed the bitting to help you wake up then you exhaled. A short, small white cloud appeared in the air. It immediately disappeared afterwards. Perfect.

A softly smile tugged at the corner of your lips while you began a path towards a known area for elk. A spot where they frequented as of late. You didn’t want to spook them from the area so soon and have to track them down all over again. Always a balance to nature, including this. After this, you would have to find a new spot to hunt before winter fell over the area. Or else, you would be stranded with no easy food source in the dead of winter. That was lesson you once learned the hard way. All it took was that one time.

Hunger wasn’t a fun feeling.

Though, you live within the confines of nature, you enjoyed every moment you were allowed this. A peacefulness that washed over you. As if you were just taking a normal stroll out to wander around. Yes, you were on a mission but it was never wrong to breath in this life you were given. A life you were too stubborn to die from, to give up. Anyone or thing would have to rip it out of your cold, dead hands.

In a peaceful atmosphere, you were still on watch. Lax as your form was, you watched everything around. Anything that could pose a threat to your way of life. May it be a mountain lion or bear growing to comfortably around your territory. You made a mental note inside of your head. Then, later on, a plan would be devised on how best to solve this situation all by your lonesome. There was no backup, no other savior this deep into Alaska. It was just you out here. Just you.

Light, carefully placed steps took you from the cozy little cabin you called home. Deeper into the forest, tracking down prey you needed to eat. With such knowledge, muscle memory guiding you, you reached the known grazing area and stopped just shy of the tree line. The meadows were void of larger life. Only soon-to-be wilting grass filled the open space. You hunkered down in a bush and took a couple sips from your water. It was refreshing over your tongue, cooling down your slightly warmed body. The hike long and helps warm up your body.

In the brush, you pulled your bow free from your torso and notched an arrow. Like the predator you’ve become, you wait as one, never faltering your gaze from the open meadows before you. Today, you were taking home next week’s food.

The day was slightly hotter, not enough to shrug off the jacket pelt that hung off of your shoulders. The sun rose higher in the sky but never crested to hit the peak. The tilt of the earth did not allow for that. It stayed midway through the blue sky the entire time, short in the amount of hours for light.

Soon, light would be a rarity this far north into Alaska.

As your hand reached out to touch the pouch containing water, a shimmer of light your attention. You froze to the spot, breath caught in your throat.

Out on the other side of the meadows, just into the tree line, sunlight reflected off something. You didn’t dare to move, only observing as the shimmered moved closer into the meadow. Nothing instantly came to mind to supply what this could be from. It wasn’t like light reflecting off of a cats eye. It was also too light for that to be. Your muscles grew taunt, ready to spring into action at a moments call.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed movement and had to take your gaze off of the shimmer. Elk. A herd of elk you’ve grown to know pranced into the meadow. A spot known for their grazing. The group bowed their heads and began to snack away at the grass.

The shimmer caught your attention again yet goes unnoticed by the prey animals. Downwind from them, you waited for a single elk to walk just close enough to strike down.

The herd dispersed a little, spreading out and growing closer to your hunkered down. You steeled your nerves despite the disturbance across the field. The bow in hand was held tighter and prepared yourself to pull the string back and fire the notched arrow.

As you prepared for the upcoming kill shot, the shimmer was on the move. Internally, you cursed and prayed to whatever god would listen to you this thing wouldn’t disturb your hunt. Just don’t spook the herd! That’s all you could ask for. It could be weeks before they returned to spot if it scared them badly.

Before you could comprehend the sight unfurling before you, one of the elks laid dead on the meadow. A large axe lodged into his head, nearly splitting the skull into two. The creature officially dead with no chance of escape. Your jaw dropped at that alone.

Then, the air was caught in your throat.

Pink, cream, and purple. A humanoid form stood at the down elk, easily dwarfing it. Adorn in metal armor, a mask covered the entirety of its face; hiding away what hid below. Four long… dreads hung over its shoulder. Then, the rest were tied up behind its elongated head shaped slightly like a dome on top. That was all you could get from the distance away.

All the other elk scattered like the prey they are. Anger flared to a blazing heat behind your sternum. With little care of what this thing was, you marched out into the field like a crazed hunter. Your steps were loud and easily announced your presence to this creature. This damn thing ruined your hunt and made you lose your next week’s food. Worst of all, this probably scared off the herd. They won’t return for some time. A growl rumbled in the back of your throat.

A blank, metal expression snapped up at you. That didn’t deter you in the slightest. You got within twenty feet of it before a bone rattle snarl bore through the rather quiet air. That stopped you in your tracks. A warning. A threat. If you stepped an inch closer, you would end up like its downed prey.

You still set a glare on the unknown, faceless creature. A challenge burning in your heated eyes. “You stole my kill. You ran off the herd. You spooked them! They won’t come back here for weeks,” you accused, knowing this thing couldn’t respond back to you. Humanoid or not. This wasn’t a human. Not with its height or the strange shape of its head. But it messed with your hunt. You weren’t about to let that slide.

Behind its emotionless mask, clicks and hisses sounded. It sounded like it was grumbling to itself. As if you were just some gnat that was annoying it. Your hand tightened on your bow, straining the wood under you palm. “You ruined my hunt,” you spat at it and pointed a finger at the unknown creature.

It snorted, muffled, and leaned down. The hatchet was swiftly pulled from the skull of its kill. The weapon twirled in its fingers. A skilled trick just show you how well it was versed with the axe. Your free hand drifted to the machete latched to your hip, ready to defend yourself.

“I did no such thing.” Soft in its tone yet told you about a chapter in its life of battle. Your grasp on the weapon nearly dropped it to the meadow’s grounds. This humanoid figure that clearly wasn’t human spoke to you.

Your eyes only flinched for a second before the glare was returned in full force. “Yes, you did! I set out this morning and waited in the brush since then for them to return here. They are a herd I follow. I know their pattern. You just scared them off!” Your body was shaking with anger. The comfort of your life had been disturbed by this thing.

The humanoid figure brushed you off by kneeling down. A knife was pulled free from a sheath at its side. With practiced movements, it sliced through the belly and began to clean its kill. This was hunter. It was too precise with the cut, the way it scooped out the guts. Your eyes narrowed on the creature and stepped closer.

An axe stuck out of the ground before your feet. Your gaze snapped down to it, nonchalant about its threatening manner. “You think that scares me?” you mused with a dangerous grin. You knew your prowess and were willing to challenge this creature for its hunt. “I’ve face worse than whatever you are.”

Without taking your eyes off of it, you leaned down and plucked the weapon from the ground. It wasn’t meant for you hand. The size and weight weren’t something even the average human would use. Yet, you still twirled it, testing its weight. “I think this mine now.” An shit eating smirk spread your mouth wide as you looked at the kneeling figure.

The growl it released shook the very ground you stood on. But, that didn’t deter you. Like any other predator who wonders into your territory, you’ll just beat it back until it learns its lesson.

It rose back to a standing position, body tense, ready just like you. You only shifted slightly into a less cocky stance and prepared to fight if it came down to it. This creature easily towered over your form, that much you could tell with the distance between you. That didn’t deter you. Instead, that only pushed more adrenaline into your veins, heart pounding into your ear.

“it’s only fair I keep this. Deny all you want, but you ruined my hunt. I feel like you need to pay for it. Either with me taking this as payment-“ you held up the hatchet- “or possibly with shed blood may sedate me enough.” The long-handled weapon was twirled again, showing off the fact you knew how to handle it.

Behind the mask, it scoffed and rolled its shoulders. “You didn’t have rights over this hunt,” it snarled at you and pulled out another hatchet on its other hip.

“I’d agree with you but then we’d both be wrong,” you snarked dropped your bow onto the ground and used the newly freed hand to grasp at your machete. Both of your hands filled with a weapon. One you were far more knowledgeable then the other.

The soles of your self-crafted shoes dug into the soft earth. Your muscles helped you launch yourself forward, straight at the creature. Instantly, you took up the offensive position. Your moved were swift, bringing down the hatchets blade to bed itself into the creatures shoulder. An action it caught onto quickly. You weren’t looking to kill, only maim.

This newer weapon was harder wield than your machete, a different fighting style in general. It left you open for attack. The hatchet held high above your head to bring down onto its skin.

It darted backwards and started its own offensive attack. A battle of dance, trading blows and swings. Neither figure willing to back down. There you were, keeping up with this thing. Though, only by the skin of your teeth where you able to skim past without losing a limb.

A slice cut at your side, tearing your shirt open. Fresh, hot blood graced the open sky and dripped down your skin. You snarled, teeth bared in a whole show of unbridle rage. The beast returned the gesture with a bellow that shook your bones. You bared more down on it with a slash that drew its own blood and dipped the tip of your blade with neon green fluids.

The two of you trading dodges and hits the same. You were able to keep up with a beast such as it.

More cuts opened your skin. None of them fatal.

Both of you backed away from each other. Sweat clung to your skin uncomfortably, doing its job in cooling down your overheated body. Your shoulders heaved with panting breathe as you surged for air and studied the beast after a timeless battle. It took panted, chest expanding with each inhale.

“I didn’t expect for you to be able to put your money where your mouth is. If you have one. I’m impressed,” you mused and rolled one of your shoulders. An ache growing in the taunt muscles. “It’s time to leave. I told you; this was my food for the week.”

Either it straight up ignored you or just didn’t bother to care. You were quick to find yourself back into a harrowing battle with it again.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold your horse, there’s-guh! There’s plenty of me to share. Gotta keep some of it for the ladies though,” you jestered. The grin returned to your face. The hatchet’s blade skirted past the spot you once were a second before. “Man, you truly want to break off a piece like a kitkat bar.”

A small pout passed over your features when it didn’t even make a chittering noise. “it’s okay if you don’t like me. I know not everyone has good taste.” The creature only faltered for a second but left you a moment slice along its pink thigh. The creature snarled and whipped its axe towards you. Barely missing your scalp if you didn’t duck just in time.

“Oh, you missed me!” Despite not seeing its facial expressions freely, you read the irritation clear as a sun day. The muscles that lined its forearms flex while it gripped the wooden handle tighter. You thought it was about to cleave your head into two when it had the chance.

Something caught the heel of your foot while dodging a particularly deadly swipe. You gasped and teetered over straight onto your rump with a grunt. This was the end. The dance had ended with you making a fatal mistake.

Instinctively, you brought up your machete to block an knowingly incoming blow. Pain exploded in your forearm as a weight bared down on it. You choked on spit and fought underneath the tremendous weight, but it was futile.

A blade was pressed to the vulnerable part of your throat. One swipe and everything would be over. You swallowed down the lump building in your throat and looked up at the winner.

Behind its massive head, a halo of light framed it. Like a god or goddess peering down at your injured form. The seconds began to tick on by. The only sound in the air being the two of you panting to regain a balance. Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips.

It never came for the killing blow.

“If you’re expecting me to beg for my life, might as well finish your cleaning. You won’t get anything from me,” you spat though there was a slight tone of respect in your voice. It fought well again you and became the winner in the end.

More weight was shifted onto your arm as it shuffled above you. The hatchet was pulled away and latched onto its belt. You knew at a moments notice, it could whip it back out and finish the job. Then, it’s stolen weapon was plucked from your smash arm and sheathed all the same. You clenched your teeth together in both the pain and disappointment it got it back from you.

“Can you at least give me the curtsey of knowing who and what you are before you kill me?” you questioned, tone still firm but with less anger in it. You truly wanted to know what this thing was. At least you could take that knowledge with you before it took your life.

Weaponless hands, one pinched your chin and tilted it up so you could face it. The other reached up and pulled at two tubes attached to its head. A small hiss entered the air before it tugged the metal mask free from its spot.

What was revealed wasn’t something you would ever expect. You nearly cringed at the sight. This wasn’t anything known to mankind. As if a crab was turned humanoid with a face like that.

Four mandibles or fangs adorn its completely inhuman features and twitched every once in a while. Hidden behind those were more teeth you didn’t wish to meet at anytime. Then, orange pupils that could possibly glow in the dark peered down at you. A predator look set on your pinned form. This thing screamed predator. A creature born, built for the hunt.

The hand on your chin stayed and forced you to keep looking into its eyes. “You would be dead by now. Your head hanging from my belt. Consider yourself lucky that I spared your life. I see potential in yout skills. I want to help develop those skills. I will not let them go to waste. You need a teacher.” That voice, less muffled this time.

“Wow, sparing my life? I feel so honored.” Even after escaping death, not fully though, you were still being smart mouthed.

It tightened its grip. “I might take back my offer.” The creature leaned down crowded into your space. You flashed your teeth at it with a grin.

“Nah, you wouldn’t. Seems like you already like me too much to do that.” You don’t know how you do it but you act like this was conversation with an old friend. It growled and shoved your head to the side but never made a move to gut you like the elk.

Then, it stood back up, towering over your laying form. You sat up and rubbed at your wrist you knew surely was going to bruise later today. “You still didn’t answer my questions.” If you were going to work with this beast, you would like to a put to its strange face.

At this point, the two of you caught your breaths. Its chest expanded with a deep, heavy breath. The beast turned on its heel to look down at you with a critical eye. “I’m called We’ar-ow. You will learn later what I am once I deem you worthy of the information.” You faked gasped and got up, placing a hand over your heart.

“Oh come on! We just had a battle to a near death,” you whined. “I feel like I’ve earned it.” The machete you once bore was sheathed back into its spot on your hip. Your body now sliced with multiple cuts that will require some medical assistance but not at that very moment.

All the pink beast did was look down at you with a neutral expression. Despite the difference of features, you felt it was universal for the expression to mean the same. “Fine. If you can’t answer me that, can you at least tell me if you’re an alien or not.” Still with cheeky smirk on your face. Yeah, you’ll learned it could if it so wishes. Why not tempt fate while you’re at it?

Its pink back met you, long legs striding away from you. The creature turned its head to look over its shoulder for a second. “Yes.” You jumped up and thrusted a fist in the air.

“Ah-ha! I knew it.” You scrambled after We’ar-ow, not wanting to wander too far from it. “So… what happens now? You said I had potential or something.” You were forced to trot next to the newly friended creature. The steps easily dwarfing three of your own.

We’ar-ow, if you remember correctly, knelt down at the belly of elk it once worked on and returned to cleaning its kill. “You will quiet down and stop asking many questions,” she snapped at you but didn’t even look over at you, focused on cutting out unneeded parts.

“Well, that’s going to a problem. I want to learn, that requires questions.” You had the creature caught then. It grunted underneath its breath and sheathed its blade after wiping it off. “I can carry that if you want.”

Orange eyes glanced over at your smaller frame. Yes, you were muscular for having to survive in a wilderness that was more than happy to kill you. The creature dipped its domed head and stood up.

You walked over to the dead elk and glanced at We’ar-ow. “Watch and learn from the master.” You crouched down onto your haunches, careful of your weight and maneuvered the downed elk onto your shoulders. A single push and you were back to a standing position, proudly looking at We’ar-ow. “Where to master?”

Oh, you were going to have fun with this creature.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #We'ar-ow's first ask!

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horseshoegirl · 2 months

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Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life.

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world.

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites.

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further. You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said.

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside.

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

"You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold. "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates. "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe.

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?"

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this."

You know it's not those two she's referring to.

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out. "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!"

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel."

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further.

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. "

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm.

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?"

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted."

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!"

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain.

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down. If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill.

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope.

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you. He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill. You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead.

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you."

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!"

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest.

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!"

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion.

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile. "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out.

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!" Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal. And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

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Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

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digenerate-trash · 17 days

Text

Gonna call this the "forgotten" AU.

Though some kind of military force dolvile is fucked. Either by their own goverment or something else. It doesn't really matter because the town doesn't actually know what's happened. No one knows why they're targeted but in an instant the world is changed.

Suspiciously there's no human military. It's all turrets and disembodied attacks-

But all that matters is that you need to survive!! And luckily for you everyone wants you in their faction. So you have options.

Whitney. Probobly has the biggest faction. He demands absoloutle loyalty. Weather your a scout or part of the inner circle. Whitney doesn't hesitate to throw people off the roof if they don't comply. He's not the most friendly leader. But he's a strong one. And even though people in his group fail to get a lot of food and water- everyone is protected. Your safe from other students in whitneys faction.

Robin is probobly the second biggest (but there's a lot of in and out) everyone is welcome here and Robin has control of the cafeteria and the water main. He was one of the only people who grabbed keys when the chaos started. This means that everyone in his faction has easy acsess to water. And Robin isn't afraid of sharing. He even trades water for books and other forms of entertainment from sydneys faction. Robin also isn't opposed to sharing with whitney. But whitney keeps threatening to take over the water supply. And Robin thinks that's good for no one. Still whitney sends scouts to "steal" water from Robin. But Robin is still happy to share. His main priority is making sure people stay calm. He firmly believes that they'll be rescued. But they need to be alive for that to happen.

Sydneys cult faction is the smallest. And sydney is rarely seen. People in his faction are relatively healthy. Though no one knows why. When the members leave the library for supplies they're mute. Students who used to be lively and happy people now refusing to talk. Memberß also seem to be marked up. Writing on their arms and faces. Joining sydneys group is rumored to be harsh. And some members are never seen again.

Kylar is a Rouge. But he's happy to accommodate. Rouges are allowed to do what they want. Though they're only welcome in Robin's territory and the unclaimed parts of the school. Rouges will sometimes get paid in food by Whitney to venture into more dangerous areas of the school and report back. Or sometimes even Sydney's territory. Though usually Rouges are seen as pretty expendable.

#dol #whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #forgotten au

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azullumi · 1 year

Text

tighnari — living together ☆彡

summary — Now that your days are spent together from each waking time to sleeping, how is everyday with him feels like?

pairing — tighnari/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff, established relationship, just everydays with this lovely man; headcanons

word count — 1029

a/n — last minute birthday fic for tighnari TT

Morning

He usually wakes up earlier than you—waking up earlier than him is a rare event and if you happen to do so, he’ll wake up sooner or later since he’s a light sleeper— and starts his morning routine even before the sun has risen. Although it doesn’t mean that he’ll immediately get out of the bed because he spends a great deal of time admiring you while you sleep. Watching your chest rise up and down as you breathe and tucking strands of hair beneath your ear and if ever you’ll start talking as you sleep, he’ll be amused. It is then that he decides to get moving already.

He’ll have breakfast prepared and ready for you before he leaves and goes out to the forest to survey the area in case there are any forms of danger that appeared overnight or the ecosystem is still doing well. He ensures that he’ll leave a letter, stating that he’s gone out already, on the table with your meal so that you’re not worried about where he is.

If you’ll wake up at the same time as him though due to having some disturbances during your sleep, the two of you will start your routine together and cook breakfast. Your mornings are spent separately as he has to go out and you’ll have to stay in the house, tending to the home, looking after the garden the two of you built to check if Tighnari didn’t water it, and seeing if there is anything you have to do before you either go out to which you��ll be returning some time later which is usually at noon or stay inside.

Noon

He often returns before lunchtime to check up on you—in this situation, you didn’t get out of the bed at the same time as him— and if you’re still not awake at that time, he’ll wake you up, telling you that it’s late already after giving you a kiss on the forehead. If ever you have something to do for that day, he’ll remind you of it.

He makes sure that the two of you will have a meal at least once (and rarely, twice) a day and it could either be breakfast or dinner since most of the time, during noon, he has to be outside doing his tasks as a forest ranger, tending to some patients, or scolding a bunch of people who refused to listen to the warnings given to them when venturing out the vast Sumeru forests. He’ll have a meal packed with him to which he’ll eat while he is out and on his break.

The meal is cooked by either of the two of you, depending on who has the time and who can do it and if ever the two of you can’t, you’ll just have to settle with easily made food or just some fruits. Sometimes, you’ll spend your lunchtime eating alone because he can’t be with you and honestly, you don’t mind since his work as a forest ranger can be quite hectic and he always returns by evening anyways.

When you have nothing to do and you are allowed to, you’ll accompany him during his work, patrolling around the village and forests and watching him, occasionally lending him a hand so you don’t feel like just some sort of audience or some leaf floating in the background and also so you could lessen the amount of his workload. Besides, you’re learning quite a lot by just helping him so it’s nothing bad.

You witnessed him scolding a group of people once who landed themselves in some sort of trouble after doing some foolish antics and you could only think to yourself how scary he is and took note to not do anything stupid so that you’ll not witness his wrath.

Evening

Nighttime is always spent for the two of you, it is when the sun would set then would the two of you be at your home, having a meal together to which either one of you made while the other watches or you cooked together. At this time, he would ask what happened during your day and how it went and you would also ask the same. Dinner would last for a long time because of the stories and conversations shared. It just rids of all the worries and stress away.

It is during the night that you two could spend the whole time together without having any interruptions and thinking about your responsibilities at work. Just you and him, in the silent night, holding one another in each other’s arms while you lay in bed and try to sleep because the exhaustion got to you and you have to chase after the essential sleep.

Sometimes, when neither of you are not tired enough, the decision to go outside and take a night walk to admire the night skies or watch the fireflies would be made. Moments wherein he could sneak a glance at your face illuminated by the moon’s silver light making your features soft and gentle, moments spent in silence admiring the peaceful surroundings and the breathtaking sights, moments with just the two of you together against the dead of the night. It’s at these precious moments that you’ll be grateful for what you have.

Then you’ll be walking back to the home you two share, holding each other’s hand and even swinging it, while enjoying the cold night breeze against your skin, fluttering your hair against the wind.

Everyday with him feels like warmth and comforts in a cold morning with a cup of warm drink in your hand, love and freedom in a field of flowers while you run around and feeling the wind against your skin and the grass against your feet, gentleness and kindness in a caress of his hand against your cheek as he reads each line of your features until his eyes get sore. Everyday with him feels like kisses while watching the rising of the sun, laughter on a peaceful afternoon, and gentle touches, seeking the feeling of what the other's skin feels like, in the darkness of the night.

— navigation | masterlist

#tighnari headcanons #tighnari x reader #tighnari #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #tighnari x you #tighnari fluff #tighnari fanfic #genshin impact x you #azul.writes

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mangoisms · 10 months

Text

come back to bed, my love, my light is low

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: Tim gets dosed with fear toxin and you are there to pick up the pieces.

━ word count: 3.3k

━ contains: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required! title is from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well

Gotham has always had a fairly impressive rogue gallery.

You have limited knowledge of the other cities and their various rogues but you think Central City and Keystone City, the Gem Cities of the midwest of which the Flash is in charge of, are some who can match up to it.

But in the end, Gotham’s will always beat them out.

You have the Joker, indiscriminate in his havoc, truly, truly unpredictable and for no reason other than he simply wants to. You have Two-Face, fates decided upon the coin toss. You have Mr. Freeze, Black Mask, Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, and so many more.

The Joker is the worst of them, though. That is the general consensus in the city.

But for you?

You have always found Scarecrow particularly unnerving.

Sure, the Joker has his clown thing going on but…

When you were a kid, during the fall, the town over from your own would host a Halloween festival. You could come down and pick pumpkins straight from the patches, take hay rides, drink apple cider, gorge on candy apples, and roam their corn maze.

At the shy age of seven, you ended up getting lost in the corn maze. Separated from your parents, from any other parents or remotely responsible figure, you wandered for some time, crying, terrified, thinking, in typical seven-year-old fashion, that you would be lost forever as the sun set, plunging you into darkness.

You remember accidentally stumbling into a Scarecrow, just a decoration for the maze, but it had seemed so lifelike with its hay-stuffed limbs and mean face scowling down on you.

That would be your boogeyman for a long while.

Eventually, the fear faded and you forgot about it.

Moving to Gotham gave it a little more life.

But it’s never been an issue.

Still isn’t. Not technically.

After all, you think, perched on your couch, anxiously watching the news, it’s not you currently barricaded in the water treatment plant with Scarecrow and a new batch of fear toxin, fighting to make sure he doesn’t release it into Gotham’s waters.

No, it’s Tim. The others.

But the fight is over. Cameras showing police officers with gas masks emerging from the warehouse with Scarecrow tucked between them, hands cuffed. His scarecrow mask is creepy as ever, scowl etched permanently in the rough material of the mask.

“Still no word on whether Scarecrow was able to contaminate Gotham’s water supply but we do see the few workers he had hostage are now being escorted out. Little is known about this new strand of fear toxin but tips to the GCPD say that it is able to be dispersed either as a liquid or a gas. Previously, the toxin was dispersed only as a gas, but it seems Scarecrow has upgraded to another venture of chaos.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh, eyes intent on the flatscreen. Trying to pick them out in the background. But Bruce does his best to keep Batman and the others out of media eye. At least here in Gotham. When it comes to the Justice League and the Titans, they have little choice. They’re officially sanctioned teams by the UN. Batman can’t be an urban legend there. None of them can.

Pictures here are blurry, though. Nothing more than grainy, shadow figures in the night. No stopping for interviews, no stepping into the light.

Outside? Well, you’ve seen literal Getty Image photos of Batman at a UN hearing with Wonder Woman and Superman, looking none too pleased about it all.

You’re not going to find them, is what you’re saying. But you try anyway. Amidst the sea of police cars, blue and red lights flashing in the night, reporters perched several feet away, debriefing their audiences.

Just another night in Gotham.

But not for you.

Your fingers itch to grab your phone. Tim assured you it would be fine as he unlocked the hidden room in your walk-in closet, the room reinforced by multiple layers of lead (Bruce insisted; Tim, annoyed, relented) and only accessible by fingerprint and retinal scans from him and you, as it is the room that holds his Red Robin gear, private servers, and other confidential items. The room you could hide away in if enemies ever managed to breach your stiff security protocols (installed and programmed by Tim this time) and the thick walls and bulletproof, bomb-proof, and heat vision proof windows of the apartment.

You’re safe as can be.

You don’t think the same can be said for Tim.

Even if he told you he would be fine. That Bruce and Damian are constantly mixing antidotes to the new strands of fear toxin and Joker venom that pop up. That Duke and Steph, both of whom have slowed in their vigilante duties like he has, are coming back on for this one. In addition to Cass and Bruce and Damian and Kate and more. The Birds were on standby, too.

You can’t help but worry anyway.

Just a feeling. A bad, bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The phone call you get in the next minute affirms it.

Caught up just as Scarecrow unleashed the toxin… Had given his own mask to another worker trapped there… Didn’t yet have an antidote… Only received one a few minutes later… in very fragile condition…

Your name jars you from the cold, petrifying fear inside you.

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, Alf,” you mumble, standing and shutting off the TV. Your hands shake as you do it. You feel jittery and restless. “I’ll leave now, I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to get to the manor, though, I’m sure traffic is just crazy right now —”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But —”

“Master Tim has insisted on returning to you. Miss Stephanie agreed and so, it is next to impossible to get them to change their minds.”

“Right,” you say, sitting back down, flexing your fingers, which have gone cold, despite the apartment being well-heated for December in Gotham. A little voice like Tim’s matter-of-factly says, You’re stressed. Blood doesn’t flow as well to the hands and extremities because of it.

You try to regroup. “Are the others okay, then?”

“They all had their masks, so yes, they’re alright. A few scrapes and bruises but nothing we aren’t used to. Master Tim and Miss Stephanie are on their way now and I imagine you’d like to prepare for his arrival.”

“Right, right, yeah, thanks, Alfred.”

“I should thank you for taking care of him. There is a reason he wants to be with you there rather than with us. It is most likely self-explanatory, but it should still be said.”

Of course.

After so many years, he is your home. The harbor to your tempest. And it is the same for him.

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

You bid your goodbyes and hurry to prepare for their arrival.

A hot meal sounds in order but you don’t think he’ll be up for it immediately, so you grab a pack of crackers. You ensure you have water, as well as some Sprite. You don’t know if he showered there, he probably didn’t, so you grab a fresh change of clothes for him, leaving it on the counter in the bathroom and grabbing him a new towel, too.

You go back to the living room to turn the TV back on, changing it to Ice Age, then lighting a candle you like to turn on every now and then, lavender and vanilla scented. Something familiar, something to ease him. You don’t know if it’ll work but you have to try.

After that, it is simply a waiting game.

You keep a close eye on your phone, where you get notifications from your security system.

Fifteen minutes later, you get an alert — not about movement on the balcony, but at the front door, camera feed showing you Tim and Steph’s figures in heavy thick coats — appropriate for the weather and to hide their suits, since their usual masks are gone. You guess he wasn’t in good enough condition to grapple with her. The thought makes your heart clench. Dismissing the message, you hurry over to open the door.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetie, you’re home now,” she’s murmuring to him, voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard.

She glances up at you as the door opens, shooting you a sad smile, then nudging Tim gently.

Your throat tightens painfully as you see his face, paler than usual, eyes glassy, gaze far, far away from here.

“Timmy?”

His eyes shoot to you.

Then he’s moving, strength and vigor seemingly renewed at the sight of you, and his arms are wrapping around you, tight, like steel, painful, hurting, cutting off your breathing, but you don’t care, don’t say anything, you just hold him back, as tightly as you can.

The pain is just a reminder that he’s here, with you, once again. Like it should be.

Steph leaves silently, mouthing Thank you.

You mouth back Be safe.

She shoots you a thumbs-up, then slips out, door clicking closed behind her.

Tim is shaking, you realize, body trembling against yours.

“You’re okay,” you whisper and his hold tightens painfully again but you push through it. “We’re okay, honey. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

What must he have seen?

Fear. Jonathan Crane’s greatest motivation — to master fear itself and to push those boundaries by using his fear toxins on others.

Your greatest fears, convincing you that they have become reality.

For you?

Losing your family. Losing your friends. Losing Tim.

For him?

He has already lost so much.

Been through so much.

You can surmise that you must’ve been part of it. Of course. Of course.

“We’re okay,” you whisper again, squeezing him.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You run your fingers through his hair, not caring about how sweaty it is, Gotham clinging to him even now. You hate it. Can’t he get a break? Can’t he be free of it for even a few hours?

But that’s why you’re here.

To help. To ease the burden. This monumental burden put on him when he was a mere fourteen-years-old.

You two stay there for a little while. You feel him toe off his boots at one point, which makes you smile.

He keeps his face in your neck, despite you knowing the angle must start to bother him. But the contact is what he needs so you’ll give it to him. Whatever he wants.

“Are you up to eat something?” you ask softly, fingers still running through his damp hair.

He shakes his head. You guessed as much.

“How about a shower?”

Quiet for a minute. You feel the rise and fall of his shoulders and the tickle of warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Then he nods.

It takes longer for him to let go. You don’t rush him. And even then, he doesn’t let you go far, holding onto your hand as you lead him into your shared bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom.

Large and ridiculously luxurious, it has a jacuzzi bathtub, a large walk-in shower with a rainfall shower head, two for the body in the wall, then one detachable head, and it’s controlled by a waterproof touchscreen. Definitely a step-up from the bathtub shower you two had at Rose Oaks.

You turn on the shower, making it hot, then turn to Tim, reaching for the coat.

Underneath it is his suit. Most likely, he and Steph rode here by motorcycle, then she put them both in coats for the walk up here. It’s a bit of a silly image, especially since his cape is longer than it, and you smile to yourself as you pull off the coat.

“What?” he asks quietly, voice raspy. The first time he’s spoken so far.

“You’re cute, that’s all,” you murmur, dropping the coat onto the floor, then reaching up to unsnap the cape.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you. By this point in your relationship, the intensity of his gaze, taking you in fully, no details missed by keen eyes, does not fluster you. It just warms you. You feel seen in the best of ways. Wanted. Loved.

You love him, too. So much more than you thought possible. Sometimes it feels like you might burst with it. You hope he knows that. You’ll show him.

You take care of the rest of his suit. Fingers finding hidden zippers, carefully unlatching his utility belt and setting it aside, slipping off his compression shirt and the rest of it.

By the time everything has been taken off, the bathroom is muggy with steam.

You step back but he grabs your wrist, saying your name, blue eyes pleading.

“Stay. Please.”

“I am,” you soothe. “Just let me get out of this, okay?”

You strip, too, much more quickly. He steps in and you follow him, gently guiding him underneath the stream of hot water. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, a little bit chilly from the sparse water touching you, but you ignore it.

Everything seems to fall away. Tim’s eyes slide shut, head tilting back, letting the water run over his face, thick chunks of dark hair sticking to his skin, the water washing away the terrors of the night. You sigh, hand slipping to his cheek, rubbing the skin there gently.

When he pulls his head away from the stream, you reach up to comb his hair away from his face, fingers stroking over his skin idly, tenderly. He leans forward, arms coming around your waist, pulling you into him.

You go easily, hands sliding over his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies, dropping his head against your chest this time, right over your heart.

When you think of the reason why, your throat squeezes.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers tracing odd circles on his back, running through his wet hair, gently detangling the knots that formed during his work tonight.

“I know,” he whispers. “I just…”

The fear toxin is effective in what it was conceived to do. Even for Tim, as analytical and logic-minded as he is. When you live this kind of life, the threat of loss is a real one. Janet Drake’s death was entirely accidental. Not for any rhyme or reason other than misfortune. Jack Drake’s, however, was intentional. The list goes on and it’s hardly limited to loss by death. There are so many things that can happen. Things that can happen to you. Either because of Tim Drake or because of Red Robin. Or both.

But you don’t care about that. You never have. The danger is real but what you would lose in that trade-off is not worth it.

It doesn’t help, you think. Not now. Not when he knows, vividly, how he may lose you, because saying that now is as good as saying you’re okay with dying and he doesn’t need that.

He just needs assurance that you’re here now. And you’ll give it to him.

“I love you so much. You know that?”

You feel his breath stutter, arms tightening, chest pressed so closely to yours you can feel the unsteady beat of his heart pounding against you, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. But you don’t care.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur. “Not in a million years if I had a choice in it.”

A small sniffle. “That’s not physically possible. Unless you’re secretly Kryptonian.”

Your lips quirk. You reach for his shampoo, squeezing out a dollop, then smoothing it into his hair. He sinks further into you, letting out a small noise of pleasure.

“Not Kryptonian. Just human. And very dedicated to those I love.”

A sigh. “I know.”

“Whatever you saw tonight,” you murmur and he tenses sharply but you keep going, keep massaging shampoo into his hair, soapy bubbles spilling over your palm, “it wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re all here. And we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s quiet for a long while. Enough for you to rinse out the shampoo and rub in the conditioner.

You reach for his body wash. Your body wash, really. He hasn’t used his own in a long while.

His hand wraps around your wrist, though. Stopping you. He pulls back to look at you.

“Tim?”

His eyes are on your face. Soft. But still a little hard to read.

He turns you, switching your positions. You jump at the first douse of hot water but don’t fight it, allowing him to push you under the stream. You close your eyes to keep the water out. His hands come up to your face. Stroking your cheeks. Pushing your wet hair out of your face. You lean into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything.”

“More than anything,” you echo, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around you. Hugging you. Tightly but not painfully.

You think you might hear him whisper Thank you but above the sound of the shower, you aren’t sure.

Slowly, you get him cleaned up. He insists on returning the favor and you let him, even if you already showered earlier. It’s a small thing to ask, after all.

After, you step out and dry yourselves off. You help him into his clothes and he helps you into yours. Insistent on reciprocation. Wanting to do something for you. But also just wanting to be near you. Touch you. Helping you gives him assurances, you think, of your presence. The thought makes your heart ache.

His hair is wetter than you’d like it to be, so you grab a towel and lead him out into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs, taking the towel to his hair, gently drying it.

Tim holds onto you all the while.

You comb through it afterward, gently taking out the tangles.

He has a distant look in his eyes when you finish, tossing the towel and comb to the side for now, not wanting to be too far from him.

“What are you thinking?” you prompt gently, sitting next to him, taking his hand in yours.

“That I think the last person who did that was my mom.”

You pause. “Was it… I’m sorry. I didn’t ask —”

“No,” he says, looking at you. “No, it was… it was nice.” His voice is small. A little embarrassed. A little bashful. Red stains his cheeks and you smile at the sight.

“I’ll do it anytime you want,” you promise. “In the meantime…”

You leave it hanging, for him to fill.

He sighs. “Let’s just go to bed?”

“Sure. Can I get you to drink some water first maybe?”

He acquiesces, drinking a glass of water, then sliding into bed. You clear the security system — with him peering over your shoulder, making certain for himself, too — then turn out the lights, curtains automatically drawing over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Tim keeps you close underneath the covers, settling low, laying his head on your chest like he did in the shower. You press a kiss to his head, running your fingers through his hair, feeling sleep start to tug at your senses.

By the way he relaxes into the memory foam of the bed, you know it’s not far off from him, either.

You stay awake to make sure of it.

Feeling his body go lax, his breathing even out. Hoping, praying, his dreams are peaceful tonight. To whoever will listen. The universe, some higher being, you don’t know, you simply want to give him a break. A break from all of this.

It’s just a bad day. You know that. A bad day that stands out in a sea of so many good ones. But bad days for him, for you, are something so different from others’. Unforgiving trauma. Potential loss of life.

But honestly? If changing that meant leaving him… you wouldn’t change a thing.

God, you hope that as the time goes on, he’ll fully step back.

Until then, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces. To tend to the aftermath.

Always.

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine

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blind0demon · 1 year

Text

Little Soldier

Summary: Your work alongside the recom team went on normally until your body went into a heat cycle and you couldn't help but keep getting distracted from your missions. Fortunately, your Colonel knows just the right way to help you out.

Pairing: Na'vi! Miles Quaritch x Na'vi! Gender Neutral! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,3K

Author's Note: No amount of water will stop my thirst for this man. Part two is up, you can read it here:

"I think they're gone" You whispered, as quietly as possible so as not to attract anyone to your location. Quaritch nodded and the both of you got out of your hiding place from under a big tree. None of you said anything, too busy looking for any signs of danger as you kept your weapons ready. After a moment of making sure that nothing is going to kill you, Miles turned towards you with an angered expression. "Do you have any idea that your distraction almost got both of us killed?" He snapped, making you look away in embarrassment, your fingers nervously tapping on the surface of your gun.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Won't happen again" You answered with humility, trying to ease the tension. It seems to have worked, as your Colonel signed in frustration and ordered you two to keep moving forward and find the rest of your crew. The two of you split from your team when you were attacked by Na'vi warriors as you were venturing through the forest. Fortunately, you were able to resist the attack without any losses. In the middle of the confrontation, you hid behind a tree to reload your weapon and couldn't help but stare at Miles.

Your hungry eyes unwillingly trailed through every part of his body, his focused expression, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he was shooting, everything about him made you lose concentration of the situation and almost get yourself killed. The man noticed you looking at him and pushed you on the ground, before an arrow could hit your skull. You were so busy admiring your Colonel that you didn't even realize that you were partially exposed from your hiding spot and became an easy target.

Luckily, your partner saved your life. You didn't have much time to think as the two of you began running away from the firing shots and before you knew it, accidentally fell into a trench that was impossible to notice. You met the ground many meters down the deeper part of the forest. You were lucky to be in the body of an Avatar as normally you'd break most of your bones from the impact but instead, you only received a few bruises and cuts.

Nothing serious happened to Miles either, at least those were good news. The two of you waited for a few minutes, trying to make sure that you weren't followed and now you're here. Your feet dragged you after your partner as you tried to find a way out of this place. Barely any light shone through the thick tree crowns and gigantic leaves while everything around you seemed quieter than usual. Unfortunately, your communicators broke due to the fall so you had no other way but to move forwards and find your team on your own.

You wanted to hit yourself in the head for being this stupid and ruining everything but you tried to keep your cool in front of Quaritch. You could sense this weird feeling growing in your body again as you looked at the man walking a few steps ahead of you. Your ears tilted back from the discomfort you experienced when you tried to keep yourself together and not think about Miles again and the things he could do to you.

Becoming a recom, you only expected the positive things coming from a new body. You are stronger, faster and overall a better version of your human self. However, after a few weeks of living as an Avatar, you noticed something unusual happening to you. You become horny but not just once in a while, everyday. At first, you thought nothing of it and assumed that it would go away after a few days but it didn't.

Your thoughts constantly drifted away into scenarios of you getting intimate with a certain person, your Colonel. Guilt ate you up every time you thought about him in an inappropriate way and you hated your organism for letting you know how much it wanted to get screwed by Quaritch. It felt as if your mind and body were split in two. Perhaps, you were in a mating cycle but you've never heard of it happening to Na'vi before and you felt too awkward to ask anyone else about it.

You are a soldier, you were trained to control yourself in the worst moments of war and now you can't even do that. You felt like a disappointment compared to your recom team and to Miles. You were never attracted to him as a human but after you two became Avatars, it changed. Out of all the other crew members, your stupid brain had to choose Quaritch to root over. Maybe it's because he was physically your age now and his features weren't too bad to look at either but you mostly assumed that it was because he had authority and was your leader.

Your dirty mind couldn't stop imagining him pinning you to a wall or bed and forcing you to listen to every command he'd give you. This man brought out thoughts from you that you never suspected yourself to have and it disgusted you. Unfortunately, you also loved it. A sight left your lips as you rubbed your hand against your face to put yourself together. Who knows when your problems will start to bother others to the extent that it might cost you your job.

What would the RDA do? Send you back to Earth as an Avatar? Right now, all you have to concentrate on is getting out of this place, seems easy. It would've been simple, if you were to walk with anybody else but Quaritch. You bit your lower lip, just imagining what those slim fingers could do to you while your eyes stared at the man's hands like a creep. So much for your focus on the mission.

Eventually, you encountered a river on your way and decided to rest nearby for a few minutes. You used the time to wash your face with the cold water to clear your head while Miles tended to the few wounds he got from the impact. Compared to you, he earned a few more injuries. It made you feel even worse about yourself for screwing up. "I'm really sorry for what had happened. I've been just… really distracted lately" You said, breaking the silence and catching his attention.

"It's alright, everyone fuckes up sometimes. Do you need to talk about it, (F/N)?" He asked, while turning towards you and looking at you in interest. You immediately tilted away and shifted in your seat. "No, I'd rather keep it to myself" You murmured awkwardly, trying to make it sound as polite as possible, your cheeks slowly turning red. No way in hell that you're telling him any of your recent thoughts. You won't be able to look at your reflection in the mirror for a week.

You felt his gaze lingering on your body as you tried to keep yourself busy, staring at the moving water in front of you. "If it's what I think it is, don't worry. You're not the only one" Quaritch said with a grin on his face and began to laugh when you shot your head in his direction and stared in shock. "What?!" You shouted in embarrassment, making sure that you didn't just hear things. "Well, I've also noticed myself lately getting a little 'distracted' as you'd say, and by observing you for the past few days, seems like I'm not the only one" He concluded, making you hit your hand against your forehead.

You wondered who else also realized your weird behavior recently, you had no idea that the others also experienced the same phenomenon. It felt shameful to think that you were the only one who struggled with keeping it a secret. Maybe it's because you're the youngest in the group, at least when you were a human. "I'm trying to keep myself at bay, I really do" You explained, hoping that he wouldn't think of you differently from now on. You wanted to be known as one of his best soldiers, not somebody who died in action because they couldn't stop feeling horny.

"I know, it's hard for everybody and I have to admit, it felt adorable to know that you couldn't keep your eyes away from me. I didn't know I was this charming" Quaritch jokes, only adding to the sheer embarrassment you felt from the whole situation. "Maybe I did, but it's not like I can control it! My mind just drifts away whenever I… look at you" You mumbled, just realizing what you just confessed to him.

You watched in horror as the man looked at you in surprise, before a smirk painted his face and he got off the ground. "Oh? And what exactly were you thinking about me?" He asked intrigued, putting a hand on his hip. Your heart was beating like crazy and you wondered how he didn't hear it from afar, he was just messing around, right? "Nothing, just forget what I said!" You shouted, your tail nervously sweeping around the grass behind you.

Your nervous babbling only seemed to amuse him more as he took a few steps towards and kneeled down to face you. He could only notice now how turned on he made you. Your chest was moving rapidly, your pupils were dilated and legs tightly held together as if they were going to fall off. "Look, I'm responsible for my team and for their members so when there's a problem, I will do anything to solve it" Miles said in a deep tone, while keeping eye contact.

You were barely able to keep yourself together by how close he was as his words hit your twitching ears. "It looks like I need to put my soldier back to their great shape again, what do you think, (Y/N)?" Quaritch's fingertips trailed along the side of your face as he gently spoke, his eyes digging into your own. Everything felt like a fever dream, you would've never imagined him offering anything like this to you. You felt like you could climax just by listening to him talking like this to you.

"But like, right now in the forest?" You asked, your voice trembling from the excitement and stress. "I told you before, we eat like Na'vi, we ride like Na'vi, we think Na'vi and we might as well fuck like Na'vi" Damn it, he really was serious. His words driften from your ears right into your lower regions, only worsening the arousal you felt for him. At this point, you wouldn't mind him screwing you up even on an aircraft full of people, you just needed to get off this horrible feeling.

"So, what will it be? Will you let me help you?" Quaritch asked, gently tugging onto the metal pendant wrapped around your neck, the slight force adding to the excitement. You swallowed and nodded nervously, not sure if you could trust your voice at that moment, earning a smile from him. "Good answer. So, what were you thinking about the two of us?" He gave you another question, eager to know every detail of your fantasies that might help him work you up.

"We had sex" You blurted out matter of factly. The man smiled awkwardly and tilted his head to the side. You weren't exactly the best at showing your thoughts, didn't you. "Yeah, I could've predicted that… How about we start with something lighter?" He proposed, before resting his hand on your cheek and pressing his warm lips against yours. He could feel them tremble as you tried to relax under his ministrations, too exhilarated from everything happening around you.

His kisses felt surprisingly gentle and you soon calmed down and started returning the gesture as well. Every movement of his skin against yours sends thrills to every fiber of your body. You flinched away from him when you felt the top of his tongue run along your lower lip. "What a baby. First time?" Quaritch chuckled, making you look away and nod. It felt embarrassing to admit that even when you were in your late twenties before you died, you still hadn't slept with anybody besides for sharing a few kisses.

On Earth, you spent most of your time focusing on your career as a soldier and didn't care too much about relationships. The same thing happened on Pandora. "Don't worry, I will take good care of you" Miles reassured you with a toothy grin and pressed his lips against yours yet again but this time, you didn't resist when he deepened the kiss. You signed, as his tongue began exploring your mouth, the alien sensation radiating onto the rest of your body, setting it on fire.

You tried to mimic his movement, sloppily kissing him as well while your hands gripped the tall grass beneath you, too scared to touch him. Even if he allowed you to do this, he still felt inaccessible to you as Quaritch was still your leader. Like a forbidden fruit. Your lips separated after an intense session, gasping for air as you looked at each other in hunger. Miles looked even hotter than before, as he was now eyeing you like a predor about to eat its prey alive.

You wouldn't mind it though, too fixated on the throbbing feeling in your body, that was begging to be released. The last bits of rational thinking left you, when the man began sucking on your exposed neck, earning a moan from your lips. You couldn't help the lewd noises escaping, he just felt too good. In this state, your skin was even more sensitive than ever and it didn't allow you to keep quiet and collected.

Noticing your reaction, Miles took another step and traced his fingers along the exposed skin on your stomach in a tantalizing manner. His other hand took a firm hold on the back of your neck to keep you in place, as he kept on leaving marks under your chin. Your recom throat communicator stood in his way, so he swiftly took it off and kept going. You also wanted to touch him, but you had no idea what you were supposed to do in that situation, so you awkwardly wrapped your arms around his neck and let your fingernails drag across the bruises on his shoulder.

You smiled as Miles sighed each time your delicate digits traced patterns across his sensitive skin. You let out another moan when Quaritch found your sweet spot, that you had no idea existed, and began enthusiastically sucking on it, entitled to break you. Your fingers curled around his queue, enough to make his groan in excitement as his hand grabbed your hip, giving it a squeeze. His other limb roamed over the abs beneath your shirt, feeling your muscles tense underneath his touch, turning him on even more.

"Oh fuck, I will make you go insane once I stuff you nice and good" He growled in your ear. "You want this right? Having me fuck your tight little ass, don't you, soldier" Miles continued, taking a firm hold of your jaw and making you look at his heated eyes. "I do, Sir. Please" You breathed out, feeling your body tremble for more. "Let's get you ready then" Miles said with a satisfied smile, knowing how desperate he made you, just by making out. He got you wrapped around his finger.

You were told to lay on your elbows and relax as he will do all the work of preparing you for him. Relaxing wasn't exactly possible in your state as you laid on the grass nervously with your heart beating like you've just ran a marathon. You watched him slowly unbutton your pants alongside the belt and get rid of them and you sighed as the air hit your most vulnerable parts for him to see. Quaritch chuckled, seeing you fully exposed, swollen and throbbing just for him.

"Aww, it seems like someone's been struggling for a long time. Don't worry, sweetheart, I will make it up to you" He cooed and licked two of his fingers, before rubbing them around your opening. You didn't need a lot of preparation, as you were already on edge for days on end, so he didn't waste much time and pushed one of his fingers inside of you. You moaned at the pleasurable feeling, never experiencing anything like this before but it felt amazing.

Your muscles hugged him tightly, tempting him without intent as he worked on you. Soon, he joined another finger to stretch you further and you were now a mess underneath him, thrashing and moaning at the astonishing sensation he provided you. The burn of his digits twisting your insides gave you a bit of discomfort but you knew that the real deal will be a greater challenge. Just seeing the tent in his pants told you enough about his size and lord, it's going to break you.

You tried not to think about it at the moment, too busy consumed by the ecstacy in your system. After all, it's not everyday when you're getting fingered by Miles Quaritch. This moment will stay in your memories till the day you die. A curse left your mouth, when you started to feel your orgasm rapidly approaching but to your disappointment, your partner stopped and pulled his glistening fingers out of you, before you could finish.

You groaned at him, making him laugh at your pathetic state. "Easy, soldier. The main course is about to begin" He reassured you and took off his pants alongside his underwear, freeing his hard member that was ready to tear you apart. Just like you predicted, he was enormous. It's not like, you've seen anybody else's equipment but you could tell that he wasn't just average. It was hard and pulsating as Miles stroked himself while spreading your legs apart.

"This may hurt a little" He warned you, before entering you, immediately making you hiss in pain as you gripped his shoulder. Quaritch stopped halfway in, drawing little circles on your hip to try and ease your discomfort. The word 'little' didn't really identify the feeling you had at this moment as the burn spread through your body, making you ache. At the same time, you also experienced a great rush of dopamine from the pleasure of his manhood inside of you.

It's what you wanted from the start. No matter how many times you tried to touch yourself and make the terrible feeling go away, it was never enough. But now, your body finally got what it desperately craved for. "I will give you a moment to adjust, okay?" Miles asked, making you feel better to know that he cared about you but you're not going to wait. "No, keep going" You answered. "You sure?" He asked again and you only nodded, closing your eyes to endure another wave of pain when he pushed himself even further than before.

You breathed rapidly, trying to relax yourself while your muscles hugged his member, that was now fully seated inside of you. "Feels good, doesn't it? It will get only better once you get used to me" Miles breathed out, leaving kisses on the side of your face to soothe the pain you felt. "It's alright. I've been hunted, shot at and just fell a few stories down on the ground, I've been through worse" You joked, making him grin in amusement of how you tried to ease the situation.

"I know that you can handle it, you're my little recom after all" He said seductively and started to roll his hips against yours, making you melt at the sensation. It was already hard not to make a sound when he was fully inside you but now, that his manhood was massaging every sensitive part in your body, you couldn't help but be vocal about it. The pain slowly disappeared each second he thrusted into you, as you dug your nails into his back, unable to control yourself.

Your partner tugged his arms behind your shoulders and changed the angle of his entry to meet every sensitive spot in your body. Miles also wasn't silent about his experience. Each time you scratched his skin a little too hard, he growled in your ear and hit your insides even harder than before. Your tight ass drove him crazy and he forced himself not to lose control and fuck you like an animal. You were so pure and quiet compared to the others in his team that scraping you of the last bits of your innocence gave him the reason to live.

Just hearing your voice calling out for him made his member twitch in excitement as he was eager to finish, thanks to your body. "Harder, please" You begged him, wrapping your legs around his waist in an attempt to keep him even closer than before. "Eager, aren't we?" He taunted, before sliding out of you, changing the position and sitting up, forcing you on his lap. "How about you take the lead, tiger?" Quaritch proposed with a smug smile.

You had no other choice but to comply when your body started to complain about the emptiness it felt. You circled your arms around his neck as you sunk yourself on his hard erection, both of you sighing at the returning bliss. You sucked the air in your lungs as the pleasurable experience of getting filled by him came back. Your hips started to move up and down his shaft, a bit sloppy as you've never done anything like this before.

Miles helped you out and took a hold of your hips, guiding you along him and thrusting upwards. He was so deep inside of you, that you could feel his balls brush against your ass when you moved. You breathed heavily against his ear, occasionally letting a moan slip by as your fingers ran along his short dark hair. Despite the growing pleasure and approaching climax, your pace didn't slow down as it only nagged you to go faster.

Quaritch knew that you wouldn't break under the pressure, you were trained to endure it after all, even if it wasn't meant for fucking. He watched in delight as you screwed yourself on his shaft, your muscles spasming each time the tip hit a deep spot in your insides. You were basically the same height, the only difference being that he was built a bit more than you. A curse left your lips as you felt yourself on edge again, glad that this time Miles won't stop you from finishing.

The man noticed your struggle and leaned into your neck, biting hard into your flesh, breaking the final straw and making you climax. You left out a broken moan, your body tightening around Quaritch as waves after waves of ecstasy hit you like a train. Your body was trembling and shaking at the overstimulation Miles gave you, still chasing his own orgasm. He wasn't far behind either, letting his fingers sink into your hips as he rapidly thrusted in your insides, before pulling out and cuming on your exposed stomach.

You watched him come undone under you, tilting his ears behind his head and shutting his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Even at this state, he tried to keep himself collected in front of you but you knew that he struggled a lot. The two of you sat in silence for a while, trying to catch your breaths and pull yourself together. You felt a tingling sensation as the remains of his fluids ran down your abdomen and on your private parts. You didn't mind it too much, It would've been harder to clean up if he came inside you.

Only now did you realize what you had done and how close your face was to his so you flinched away from him in embarrassment, making him laugh. After a moment of cleaning and dressing up, Miles helped you get up and you now stood facing each other, your legs still slightly shaking. "Everything okay?" He asked. "Yeah" You answered, feeling a grin slowly creep on your face, remembering all the shameful acts you've done just a while ago.

"I'm glad to be of service. If you even need my help again, feel free to ask" Quaritch said, winking. A blush crept on your face again, as your tail swayed in excitement. Will there be another time? Right now, you felt relieved that the throbbing feeling in your body finally disappeared. Your mind was no longer occupied with thoughts you shouldn't have, especially in the middle of a serious mission. But you didn't know how long it's going to last. Perhaps one day when you'll need him again, you may just come by to his room. Just maybe.

"Oh, you forgot something" Miles said, as you were ready to leave and walked over to pick up your recom throat communicator from the ground that he removed before. He took a few steps towards you and slowly put it back on its place around your neck, his fingers tickling your still fragile skin. You found it sweet that he cared for such little things but in reality, Quaritch just used the opportunity to look up close at the hickeys he gave you. They were barely visible on the dark blue patterns of your skin but they were still there, letting everybody know that he made you his. His little soldier.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader

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fruitviking · 1 year

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Experimenting with Sherlock Holmes and Dracula crossover fic. Enjoy!

"The girl, Miss Westenra, repeatedly goes to sleep looking perfectly well, yet wakes up pale and close enough to death as to require blood tranfusions." Holmes settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "What could be the cause of this nocturnal ailment, doctor?" Watson lit a cigar. The September heat had dwindled somewhat with the setting sun, but the evening air was still a trifle too thick for comfort. He loosened his collar with one finger. "The symptoms do not make sense, Holmes," he admitted. "The young lady is losing blood at night, that much is clear. She is fatigued, troubled by haunting dreams, and sleepwalking. She is clearly suffering from something. Yet there are no bloodstains anywhere that I could see, and the only injuries are those two points on her neck from -" "The safety pin." Holmes raised an eyebrow. Watson huffed. "Apparently." His friend's grey eyes lit up. "You do not believe it?" "Such an injury would have healed by now, even with Miss Westenra in her weakened state." Watson shook his head. "No. I do not know the cause of her illness, but it is certainly not that wound in her neck." "Perhaps it is." Holmes rose from his chair slowly and began to pace back-and-forth in front of the unlit fireplace with one hand in his pocket. He gestured with the other as he spoke, his long fingers flickering through the air. "Miss Westenra is losing blood at night, you have said so yourself. We can accept that as a fact. But the blood itself is nowhere to be found. Therefore, something is taking it." The doctor's eyes widened. "Whatever do you mean, Holmes?" he gasped. "What could do such a thing?" Holmes's whirl of motion suddenly ceased. He turned his back to the fire and spread his arms out across the mantelpiece either side of him. "There are more things on heaven and earth, my dear Watson," he said in a low tone. "We will soon be venturing into dangerous waters. I cannot guarantee your safety on this journey, though as always I will appreciate your company as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death." His eyes, gleaming with curiosity, were focused on something far away. Watson shifted in his chair and puffed on his cigar. His friend's words, though delivered with his typical dramatic flair, were decidedly disconcerting."I am at your service, Holmes," he said at length. "And from the sounds of it, you may need me to watch your back." Holmes smiled briefly. "Good man." "Will you tell me the villain we are facing?" "When I have all the facts, dear boy. First I shall require a copy of the newspaper detailing the extraordinary arrival of the Demeter on the shores of Whitby. That, I believe, will lend us some greater insight." Watson couldn't quite see the connection between the notable recent shipwreck and his sweet young patient, but he trusted his friend to see it for him. "I will arrange to speak with Van Helsing again as soon as possible," he suggested, not wanting to rest on his laurels. "He may have further suggestions for treatment which I have not considered." Holmes was closer to his chair now, pressing a hand on his shoulder. "If you are to visit him or the young lady again, Watson," he intoned, "I beg you not to travel at night."

#acd holmes #dracula #sherlock holmes #dr watson #crossover fic

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figgrrr0 · 1 year

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(Link to the prompt)

I hope it’s not too long, please enjoy! 🩷

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Chance encounters

Character: Sub!Tighnari

Reader: Dom!Fem, nymph/dryad

Genre: Smut // CW: Blowjob, vaginal fingering + penetration, praise + teasing, tiny bit of voyeurism/F!masturbation, bondage, creampie, love confessions

Plot: Yes // Word count: 8.6k

Torrential rain and a blustering gale: these are what the rainforest has known for the past few days, almost a week. It happens every now and then, unfortunately. A land, so peaceful and quiet, so reliant on itself that it can easily support those who choose to inhabit the place, entirely up-heaved and destroyed. Forced to seek help from the people it proudly protects. All because of just a bit of water...

Okay, well... it may have been more than just a bit of water. More like a tremendous amount; certainly more than the land of Sumeru had seen in the past decade, at least.

During these drastic conditions, it's far too dangerous for anyone to venture outside.

Too dark to see what lies ahead on the path -if you can even find the path in the first place-, too loud to hear when anyone calls out to you for help or to attain your whereabouts, and so windy that at any moment you may just get whacked in the face by a stray log. Of course, of that were to happen, you'd either pass out and risk hypothermia, or just have a new story to complain about and maybe a way to start a fire and prevent said hypothermia. Nature provides and all that...

That being said, the storm has raged on for longer than anyone had expected. The rangers of the forest have been made to wait in suspense for when the storm will finally fade, if only for a few hours, so that they can have the chance to check out the lay of the land, and see what changes or blockades have been added to the forest's paths.

However, no one's tension has been held at bay for as long as Tighnari's.

Slinking through the maze of a forest once so familiar, now twisted and disfigured into strange obscurity, Tighnari takes note of everything he can see. Branches snapped and hanging low, as if they were reaching to find stability in the roots and vines layering the ground floor. Large, flooded puddles, which flow down the paths and into the strewn undergrowth, creating rivers and streams of their own. And, most disheartening to the ranger, the different assorted flowers and fauna of the forest, all tangled and mangled, and those are only the ones that survived the unending attack of the wind.

Regardless of his own personal feelings about the damage, Tighnari ignores his want to use his dendro vision to bring some life back to these plants and flowers, continuing on his trek, for he knows that something much more vulnerable calls for his attention:

The young saplings.

Those trees had been planted close to 8 years ago, and had been growing well. Already, they were quite a bit taller than Tighnari himself, which isn't saying much, he himself would readily admit. But there's simply no way for them to have survived that massive storm and have stayed standing. It's impossible.

As he draws near to the grove where they'd been planted, Tighnari's ears snap to attention and his eyes flicker in each direction.

There's an intruder in the forest. Someone he'd never seen, heard, or smelled here before.

It wasn't a traveller, or someone who lived near the forest or the city, for none of them would come out in the aftermath of the storm, leaving the comfort of their warm, toasty houses, and trading it for the murky air of damp soil and sodden grass. It wasn't another ranger, for Tighnari had made sure to warn them not to leave the safety of their lodgings, and they wouldn't want to anger him. He could be uncharacteristically cold when he was irate, especially when his orders were directly gone against. No-one wanted to sit through another of Tighnari's lectures.

Opting to investigate further, Tighnari crouches down next to the bushes that line the square patch of land that had been cleared of brambles and the like, in order to make space for the growing trees. The bushes, whose branches and leaves stick out every which way, still dripping the drops of rain that weigh them down, provide the head forest ranger optimum cover to see without being seen. And what he saw surprised him.

A girl- no, a woman, one unlike any he had ever seen before, knelt in the middle of the clearing, amidst the fallen and snapped saplings. Seeming not to notice the new set of eyes watching her every move, or so he thought, the woman placed a gentle hand to the sapling she knelt to, humming a soft tune. It sounded familiar to the ranger, though he couldn't remember from where before he had heard it.

Interrupting his thoughts was a quick burst of green light that shot up the body of the small, broken tree. Before he could properly react (or even think of what his reaction should have been), the tree springs to life, growing rather taller than it had been originally, before the dreaded storm, and even sprouting new, verdant looking branches with leaves to match.

Tighnari was awestruck.

Not because this was unusual. Well, it was, to some degree. It was rare for a vision holder to have such an impressive level of control over their power, especially for it to work so fast! But what was even more impressive, however confusing and perhaps worrying, was that the mysterious woman held no vision on her frame.

He analysed her unusual garb in the fastest manner that he ever had done before, eyes roving over each buckle or strap, each fold in clothing or closed pocket, but, ultimately, he found none. Nor were there any distinguishing marks of who this woman was, or where she had come from. In fact, all clues pointed to quite a curious conundrum for the forest ranger: it seemed as though she had simply appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe, just maybe, she lived here. Here, in the Avidya forest, right under his nose all along.

But that obviously couldn't be. Could it? Surely he hadn't overlooked any of the signs of human life in the forest. Someone unaccounted for. Though, that being said, he wouldn't hold himself too at fault for that.

She blends in perfectly with the surroundings of the forest, her clothing seeming to be made less of actual cloth and more so of softened bark and large leaves, pulled together by twine made of vines. As such, she even smells exactly like the forest. Of course he wouldn't be able to sense her. He gets the feeling she has been here for a long time, and, as such, is very good at staying hidden. Except for today.

Suddenly, the woman rises from her kneeling position, not a hint of dirt staining her knees, despite the wet, squelching mud that splashes everywhere with every step. You'd expect someone who lives in the forest to be at least a bit dirty. But from what he can tell, this woman isn't. Not a speck of grime anywhere on her person. He wonders how it's possible.

Still, with her back to him, his thoughtful stupor ends and he shakes his head side to side, as if to physically disperse the rushing thoughts from his mind, in order to take the situation seriously.

He still had to find out who she was, why she was here right after such a terrible storm, if she needed any help, and, for selfish reasons, perhaps, how she was able to use her magic with no vision to be seen.

"I can sense your presence, fox." Her voice is soft, little more than the hum that sounded from her but a minute before. Even so, it still serves to startle Tighnari, who freezes on the spot, a hand quickly reaching for his bow.

"There will be no need for that." The woman turns to look at him over her shoulder, "I mean no harm to you nor these precious saplings. I merely want to see them grow and flourish." Despite not being able to see him through the brush, she knows he is there. Lifting a hand, she waves him over, the other on her hip.

He obeys, unconsciously ignoring his rational mind in favour of following his more baser instincts. And his instincts are drawn to her, begging him to follow.

He steps out from the bush and into the clearing. No cover. No weapon in hand. No idea who -or perhaps, what- he is talking to.

"Where do you come from, outsider?" Tighnari can't help but sound defensive. He's never encountered this situation before, and he'd never been prepped for the risk of an unknown magical being randomly showing up. He had no idea what to do.

"Outsider? Why, I rather think you are the outsider here, ranger. My kind looked over this forest long before humans took over the land." Despite her lecturing tone, her face displayed no difference from before, still a totally composed and calm slate of indifference. Though, her voice held more than enough conviction. Tighnari knew instantly that her words were true.

With a twitch of an ear and a quiet sigh, his hand comes up to awkwardly rub the side of his neck, pressing into and smoothing over his scent gland. Since coming in close proximity of the woman, there's been an incessant niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he'd found something he'd been missing. There was something familiar, something soothing about the air around this woman, and his body wanted her to stay close.

He didn't understand it. He'd never felt this before, this strange thought that she was important- that he wanted her to be his.

Taken aback by his own thought process, Tighnari rubs his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process. While usually directed towards the other rangers or travellers who get in the way or make common mistakes, today, it was pointed at himself.

Shifting his body weight onto the other leg, he started, "hmm... okay then, care to kindly explain how you fixed this tree then? That was some mighty impressive workmanship with that vision." He knew she had no vision. This would either make her reveal her true nature, or she'd try to lie (and hopefully fumble while doing so). Either way, Tighnari was sure he'd learn something about her.

"The people of Avidya Forest who hold a vision to their name do everything they can to do their part in the upkeep of the forest. As an extension of the forest itself, I show my gratitude by furthering the progress along." She gestures in a fluid motion towards the few trees she'd already prompted to regrow. "I have no need for a vision. The essence of the forest guides my hand."

Never mind. She'd evaded that quite well.

At this point, Tighnari was getting impatient. He didn't enjoy being toyed with when he held barely any understanding of the situation. Although, as he'll think to himself later in the night, within the solitude of his own lodging back at camp: he didn't mind the secrecy nearly as much as he would have if it had been anybody else dancing around his questions. The woman, as infuriating as she was being in the moment, was graceful and gentle in movement, and held a great peace within herself. He could tell that much, at least.

She was powerful, yet quaint. Quiet, yet commanding. She understood far more than she let on, and yet she didn't feel dangerous as many others would.

"Well then, why show yourself now? After all these years of hiding?"

"I grow tired of your accusations. I come only when the forest needs me, and she was calling." At this, steeling her face with resolution, she turns around and begins walking away, her strides even and calculated in a way that will carry her away from the situation quickly.

"H-hey! Wait!" Tighnari launches forward a few feet, almost reaching out to grab her, before catching himself and deciding against it. But the further she gets, the faster his heart beats against the cage of his ribs. He wanted to chase her down, to satisfy his underlying craving to claim her.

Why can't he seem to control himself around her?

The woman stops at his plea, though she doesn't turn to face him again. She stares straight ahead, ready to take off further into the woods the moment she gets the chance.

"What have you done to me? What part of your... magic has caused this?"

She smirks, her voice carried by the wind, "Nothing more than your nature calls for."

Tighnari feels as though he is stuck to the spot as she leaves, not even sparing him a glance before turning behind a tree, completely out of sight.

As soon as she is gone, he gets a feeling that she is truly... gone. The air smooths over, the world around him starts moving again, and, for the first time since seeing the woman, he can finally relax completely.

He heads back to the main path, collecting his wits and preparing to head back to the ranger camp. Just as he is about to leave, his breath is stolen from him. There is a distinct, deep feeling of foreboding driving through him. He looks back into the clearing, unsure what he is going to see...

Nothing except all of the once-fallen trees, standing tall, healthy and strong.

Otherwise, there is no trace of the woman.

...

3 months later, Tighnari is going about his regular business. Walking the forest pathways and surrounding areas, he searches for anything amiss. Though he can't help but let his mind wander to the woman he has come to know since their chance encounter, deeper in the forest.

Y/N, despite their uncomfortable first meeting, has come to show herself to Tighnari multiple times since that day, even going so far as to join him on his watch duty most days. Despite him acting as though he didn't want the help, he knew that she wasn't actually there to help him at all. What he didn't know, was why.

They had shared little of their memories and past life experiences with each other (though not due to a lack of trying on Tighnari's part).

They'd be having quite the long conversation when they didn't need to be quiet so Tighnari could hear any disturbances in the nearby undergrowth. Learning something new from each other or laughing at jokes, and Tighnari's occasional sarcastic responses.

Just when Tighnari felt the pull of growing closer to her, just when he'd gather the confidence to actually ask her something about herself, or try to coerce her into revealing something -anything- about her nature, about who or what she is (because she obviously wasn't human or hybrid like him) she'd shut down completely.

Every time, she'd either go silent, making their easy conversation devolve into something awkward, or she'd answer with some tale she'd spun up out of thin air, the likes of which Tighnari was forced to try and pick apart late into the night. His mind fumbled and reached to create any semblance of surety when it came to Y/N, trying to piece together the threads of her disjointed stories.

He was getting tired of it.

Now, don't get him wrong. Tighnari had no problem talking to and working with people -apart from when they slowed him down, or made needless mistakes, or made decisions without checking with him first... the list goes on. But he never really... connected with them, in a sense. He never made strong connections with any of them.

But with Y/N, he wanted to.

Distracted and stuck in his thoughts, Tighnari is suddenly surprised by the sound of footsteps a few feet behind him. He turns swiftly, pulling out his bow and aiming at the figure behind him, but almost immediately he lets out an audible sigh of relief. It's just Y/N. Had she sensed him thinking about her? Is that a thing?!

Tighnari calms himself before she notices his upped heartbeat or the slight blush coating the apples of his cheeks. She had a tendency to sneak up on him like this. 'The air of mystery' and all that.

Realistically, Tighnari should've expected this. And to some degree, he had. This has become such a regular occurrence that he often expected this more than he expected the other rangers to do their job right.

Could you tell he'd been strung a bit tight the past few weeks?

Y/N could; and she used this knowledge against him to the best of her ability.

Taking no notice to the fact that he'd been about to shoot her in the face with an arrow, Y/N moved forward to settle into stride beside him, giving him no greeting other than a little wave.

Even though she'd softened her exterior in his presence more recently after growing accustomed to his company, she still wasn't very well acclimated to... being social. She could be awkward at times, but it allowed Tighnari to focus on his duties with her at his side, which he supposes is a good thing, really. He'd hate to have to ask her to leave, especially when he'd only met her because she decided to let him see her.

Plus, she could be quite stubborn when she felt like it, just like the sturdy trees that she protected. One time, she'd even claimed, "Nature and I are one and the same." Of course, he didn't take her literally. She's not a tree... Right?

Honestly, he's not so sure at this point, but if he asked her straight on, she'd probably just say something along the lines of, "I spend my entire life taking care of the trees. Is there anything else to me, other than trees? Not really. So I guess, maybe I am a tree."

Now, this may sound kind of silly, but sometimes she was just so clueless about the things he tried to talk about. If this was all an act, it was very convincing. She acted as if she'd never ventured beyond the border of the treeline.

It made him want to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe, teach her the comfort of human commodities and interaction. But, most of all, he couldn't help the blazing want to touch her, to hold her, to finally know her.

"You're late."

"Huh?" He looks to her, confused.

Instead of answering, Y/N strides forward as they come to a fork in the road, already knowing which route Tighnari scouts.

Tighnari hastens his pace to keep up with her. "What do you mean?"

She stops dead in her tracks, spinning to face him and planting her hands on her hips. He felt as though she was looking down on him.

"Every day I wait for you at our spot, and you're always there within two hours of starting your shift." Her head tilts almost accusingly, tone darkening, "I came to see what was taking you so long. Do you know what I saw, Tighnari?"

Heart rate rapidly rising, Tighnari tightens his hold on his bow, growing nervous. He couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong, though he would admit he'd been a bit slower than usual. He was waiting to see if she'd catch up with him, dragging his feet a little on the way. He wanted to know if she'd seek him out, if she'd worry about him... if she really cared.

"...What did you see, Y/N?" He hadn't meant to, but his voice naturally took on a sarcastic cadence. He'd probably pay for that later. She never seemed to let him get away with being rude to her... he wasn't in a rush to give in and say he liked it.

"I saw you, looking behind yourself every ten seconds, almost tripping over own tail and falling into every other bush." Crossing her arms, a hand lifted and framed her face, a nail pressing into the plush of her lips as she spoke. "It makes me wonder... who could captivate the ever-resilient head ranger so much as to make you lose focus like this?"

Tighnari blanched. Had she noticed? He would be the first to admit that he hadn't been particularly caring towards hiding his near-obsession with this woman he'd met in the forest. But he certainly didn't want to be called out on it. He supposed, now was the time to take a page from Y/N's book; he was going to ignore the implications she'd thrown.

"How did you see me? I didn't hear you at any point, I would've noticed."

Her prominent gaze softened as her eyes met his own slightly frantic ones. She seemed to deflate, giving up on teasing him with an discreet sigh; one that he heard, nonetheless.

He felt as though he'd missed something... had she just given away a huge hint as to who she was and he'd completely missed her meaning? He couldn't tell. But, regardless, he was annoyed with himself. He knew he hadn't played into her games the way she'd wanted.

Stagnating into an awkward silence (which was becoming all the more common between them), they continued on with the patrol, stopping every now and then when Tighnari heard some suspicious noise, which usually ended up being nothing. This went on until the sun started retiring, when the skies lit aglow with the blazing embers of sunset, painting an intricate depiction of warmth, the antithesis of the cold night that would follow.

As of now, the tension between the two was at a standstill... it either had to dissipate, or be pushed over that last edge for them to continue on, to whatever their future may hold for them... Tighnari hoped it happened soon.

...

Finally, Tighnari's shift was over. Traversing the path back to his base camp, he was halfway surprised that Y/N remained behind him. Usually by now, she'd have disappeared without a trace before they got this close to his home. For what reason, he didn't know. But it always made him feel saddened.

Did she not want to stay with him? To learn about his home space and his interests, without having the meandering conversations that she so liked to weasel herself out of?

It often worried him, that perhaps he'd gotten too involved, too interested in this woman, when she barely reciprocated any advances he tried to make. But when he looked back on their interactions later, he realised that she had been sharing the moment and making her own subtle advances... Or so he thought. It was hard to tell.

Like when she'd reach out to ruffle his hair and play with his ears (a privilege no-one else shared -except maybe sometimes Collei), and after they parted ways, he'd find little leaves clinging to the strands or falling behind him.

While he was hesitant to touch her, afraid that it'd be stepping over her boundaries, she did so to him whenever she felt the need, which, surprisingly, was quite often. He'd catch himself staring when he thought her to be looking away, and seconds later she'd be pressing against his side, a sly smile giving away that she likely knew what he was thinking.

How, he'd like to know. For even he wasn't sure what he was thinking, becoming so enamoured with a spirit of the forest who never makes things as easy as they could be. Nor did he know how it happened so fast.

Approaching the entrance of his abode, he turns to invite her inside, only to find her having already vanished.

Feeling defeated, Tighnari lets out a terse sigh. Just like always...

Shaking off the cloud of disappointment, he pushes past the door, shrugging off the equipment he'd been carrying and placing them on a bench near the doorway.

A good cup of tea sounded like just what he needed right now...

As such, he steadily makes his way to his kitchen area, lighting a few candles and lanterns to light his way.

Only, he doesn't quite make it to the teapot.

Sitting in his usual chair is Y/N, sitting there, looking quite comfortable, sipping on a cup of tea.

Despite the fact that she must've teleported and trespassed in order to have already been in his home, it does amuse him that they'd had the same idea as to how to wind down. And he couldn't find it in himself to really be irritated with her actions, even if they were somewhat (or completely) rude. He was going to invite her in, anyway.

"Making yourself at home, I see." It's a clipped statement, though he isn't upset. Pulling over a new chair, he joins her, finding that she'd already poured him a cup and set it down to cool on the table beside.

"Yes." She takes a sip. "Your tea leaves were dried, so I freshened them up a bit. I thought you'd appreciate the added flavour." She looks to him with a calm smile.

Looking into the cup he's holding, he can see that indeed, the concoction is of a lighter, more honeyed shade than usual. It certainly looked more appealing. Or maybe that's just because he knows he'd like anything she made, especially if she made it with him on her mind.

"Ah, thank you. I don't get much of a chance to use them quickly, what with how often I'm outside." He raises the cup as a small toast with a tip of his head in thanks, to which she returns with a short, stifled laugh. He brings the cup to his lips, taking a sip.

It's no different than usual.

Huh... Well, that's disappointing. He'd been expecting some magical burst of flavour to overwhelm his tongue and make him see stars. Metaphorically, of course, though he would hardly complain if that really had happened.

Oh well. It's good tea either way, since it's a blend he already likes.

"Well? How is it?" Y/N prods, clearly excited for his praise that she is so sure is coming. She's even leaning forward slightly, he notices.

"Uhh..." He gulps, nervous. He doesn't want to make her feel bad, but Tighnari is anything but dishonest- unless he needs to be; which he doesn't. Not with Y/N.

"It tasted the same as usual..." He looks away while delivering the news, but looks back to her to garner her reaction, waiting to see if he needs to console her. She visibly deflates.

Oh no. That's not good.

Before he can say anything to try to backtrack, she composes herself, edging her chair closer to his and leaning over to lean both elbows on his armrest, looking directly into his eyes with an intense glow overtaking her features. Tighnari has to stop himself from leaning away in shock, not looking away.

"Would you like to taste mine instead? It must taste better than yours..." Her eyes slowly drift down to his parted lips, before dragging back up to his eyes again, not at all trying to hide her change of focus.

As he answers with a silent nod, unable to vocalise his reply, she lifts her cup to her own lips once more, taking a sip.

Then, instead of handing him the cup, she leans ever closer, snaking an arm around the back of his neck, and pulling him in to lock lips before he can even react. Not that he'd stop her, he'd been wanting this for too long...

Suddenly, a steady stream of warm tea enters through his lips, transferred from her mouth to his waiting tongue. The flavour and the feel of her tongue sliding against his alone is enough to make him moan out, the noise muffled by Y/N's kiss.

Oh, Archons, was she right. The flavour is nothing like he had ever tasted before. He could easily get addicted to this. The sweetness was amplified, hints of different berries and fruits mixing together perfectly in the dance of their swirling tongues. The aftertaste giving way to a deep, heady, rich taste of which even Tighnari couldn't place, but it reminded him of the smoke from a campfire, that satisfied feeling after a hard day of work when you knew the rest of the day consisted of nothing but comfort and ease. He couldn't get enough.

This was just another reason to keep Y/N around. Not that he needed any other reasons.

Almost forgetting that he needs to breathe, Tighnari chases after her when she pulls away, creating a short distance between them. After such a long wait, Tighnari can't handle being separated from her again so soon.

Their heavy breaths mix together, both transfixed by the situation they've gotten stuck into, neither wanting it to end.

"Any better?" She reaches the arm she had holding him close up to stroke over his ears soothingly, enjoying the feel of his soft fur beneath her scratching nails.

"So much better..." Tighnari pants in response, unable to drag his gaze from her wet lips, a drop of the tea sliding down her chin from the corner of her mouth. If she notices, she doesn't seem to mind.

In fact, little does he know, she had noticed. But instead of fixing it, she wanted to see how he'd react, what he'd do.

Thinking no further, Tighnari leans forward once again, pressing his tongue against the droplet before it can travel any further, and following the trail it had left behind up to her lips, returning to their make out session.

Pulling away soon after and standing up with no preface to the action, Y/N pulls Tighnari up by taking hold of his wrist, leading him through his house and into his room. How she knew the way, he had no idea, as she'd never been here before, as far as he knew. But he wasn't too interested in why or how, and it wasn't too surprising considering his home wasn't a big place.

Bursting through the door, not bothering to close it, the two make their way to the bed, never once leaving the other untouched in some way. Their mingled panting and heaving breaths surround them, pulling them both further into the fantasy building up around them; a place in time where they're the only ones who matter.

Swapping positions, Y/N pushes Tighnari none too gently onto the bed, his elbows reaching back to catch him before he falls all the way down. As she begins climbing on after him, he takes the initiative, making space for her by moving further back on the bed, finally settling against the pillows.

Y/N leans over him, her arms on either side of his body. Staring down at him and raving her lidded eyes over his entire body, her gaze settles onto the apex between his legs, the fabric tenting where his obvious arousal throbs in waiting.

She lets out a breathy chuckle, leaning down to give him a better view of her body and its accentuated curves; her ass up, back curving tantalisingly, and her face nuzzling against the side of his covered length.

"Hmm, you're ready for me, right, Tighnari?"

The teasing lilt to her voice sends shivers down the ranger's spine, his face and neck heating, and he has to resist the urge to thrust up against her face right there.

When he fails to answer, too focused on taking in the view of the woman between his legs, the one he'd come to love so quickly, she presses a harsh hand against his erection, grinding her palm down into the clothed appendage.

"AahN–ngH!?"

He chokes on a forced-out cry, huffing his breaths afterwards to recover from the unexpected pressure.

"What was that, 'Nari?"

Gathering his wits, he responds, "Y-yes, please, let me have you... Gods, Y/N..."

"...Good boy. That's exactly what I wanted."

With a mischievous grin tugging at her lips, Y/N presses Tighnari's knees apart with little resistance, making ample space to lower herself comfortably between his thighs, never once losing eye contact.

Unsure what to do with his hands, Tighnari restlessly presses them into the sheets to his sides. While distracted by looking at Y/N, he took no notice to the slight tickling sensation that took place around his wrists, only becoming confused and looking back when his arms were suddenly taken out from under him and tightly tied to the headboard of his own bed.

Vines, holding his wrists together and forcing him to lay completely at the mercy of the beautiful woman between his legs.

Giving him no chance to react, Y/N slides her hands up his thighs and slips them into the waistband of his pants. Biting her lip seductively, she winks at him, relishing in the gulp he takes in anticipation, and snaps the elastic back against his hip, making him flinch.

"Tell me, Tighnari..." She slowly smooths her hand over the soft skin of his abdomen, rubbing in wide sweeping lines and pressing down with her thumb. "Do you want my hand? Or my mouth?" She questions, making sure that the puffs of her breath land on his tented crotch, resulting in a low groan being released from his tight throat.

His face scrunches, resisting the need to pull against the vines holding his arms back. Feeling a bit embarrassed by how easily she took control of him, Tighnari tries to regain his sarcastic front. "Hahah... ah- why not both?"

"My, my, 'Nari... I hadn't taken you for the greedy type." She backs away, her shadow completely encompassing him as she rises. "I could always just leave you here, all alone, desperate for relief... tied up all night and begging for me when I decide to free you... oh, I don't know, say tomorrow afternoon?"

His eyes go wide in disbelief, but apart from that he doesn't answer. It's enough for Y/N. She knows she'd shut him up.

"See? It's not that hard to be good for me, is it? You just have to lay still and take whatever I give you."

Finally, her hands make their way to trace along the elastic of his pants once more. Instead of carrying on the teasing, because, admittedly, even she was getting a bit impatient by now, she begins pulling them down, making sure the fabric drags along the length of Tighnari's arousal, making him let out a hiss behind gritted teeth and clenched eyes.

Once his hard cock is released from its confines, his pants coming to rest above his knees, Y/N wastes no time in taking hold of the base and landing a kiss directly on the drooling tip. She laps up the salty substance, purposefully letting the lewd slurping sounds flow through the room. Already, Tighnari is letting out low moans that end in a whine, his hands tensing around the vines to ground himself.

Feeling all of the pleasure only on his sensitive cock head, he can't help but close his eyes and roll his head back onto the pillow, thighs tightening at the pleasure running through his body.

Keeping her movements slow, she proceeds to open her lips wider, allowing the tip of his dick to slide into her mouth before hollowing her cheeks as she begins to lightly suckle on him.

Green eyes fighting to stay open and ears twitching sporadically is what meets her gaze when she looks up to see him. He's overheating, she realises, when she sees the deep flush taking over his cheeks and neck, accompanied by the droplets of sweat dripping down the expanse of his throat. He's too excited, feeling too good to complain, to want to stop their actions in order to get more comfortable.

He never wants her to stop.

Taking pity on him, Y/N leans forward, taking the whole of his length into the tight suction of her wet throat and making Tighnari let out an obscene moan that devolves into a shuddering sob. Pulling back, she repeats the motion over, and over, and over again until his entire body tenses and the veins leading up the frame of his hard cock start to pulse against her quivering tongue.

On the next forward movement of her head, she reaches her hands up his body, pushing his shirt up to his chest and revealing his perky nipples. At the same time, the vines that were keeping his warm hands in their tight grip extended to slither their way up his wrists and into the gloves on his hands, working their way in and pushing them off of him to fall onto the bed at their sides.

She hoped that this was enough to let him cool down a bit, because she wasn't anywhere near done with him yet.

As his moans gradually staccato, each one growing higher and higher in pitch and turning to more of a whine, Y/N pulls off of him. Releasing his aching cock from the heat of her mouth, rivulets of spit and precum connect to the tip.

Confused and worried that she'll stop completely, Tighnari starts struggling against the restraining vines, whimpering and begging: "W-why? Y/N, please! Don't stop~!"

Sensing that he was getting overly worried and upset, Y/N started shushing him gently, using her spare hand to keep one of his legs pressed against her side to let him know that she was still there, that she wasn't leaving.

With the hand that had been holding the base of his dick in her tight grip, she starts stroking him with her hand, keeping up the fast pace that she'd made it to with her lips.

"Good boy, 'Nari. Good boy... Cum for me."

Only a few more strokes of her hand, and he did just that.

At first, only a few spurts of his thick white cum drooled from his slit, pooling down onto the hand still working his twitching cock. Once his orgasm was fully triggered, Y/N didn't stop her movements. If anything, her hand only got tighter and faster, prolonging his high until she got as much out of him as he could give.

The hot spend shot out of him quickly then, collecting in a drizzle down his dick, on his own thighs, on Y/N's hand and some on her face. All the while, she kept whispering, "Good boy... Good boy, 'Nari," on repeat as he shivered and convulsed in the aftershocks of his climax.

Once he stops cumming entirely, the pleasurable shock fizzling out into overstimulation, she drops him from her grip. He's still whining shakily, recovering slowly from the feel of it all, while Y/N scoops all of his cum that got onto her face into her mouth, sucking it off of her thumb and appreciating the viscous texture of his spend.

Taking the time to let him recover enough to continue for what she had planned, Y/N started taking off her own clothes, leaving herself dressed in nothing. While she was well accustomed to the weather and temperature characteristics of Avidya Forest, she couldn't help but be grateful for the colder than usual night, helping to cool her down and stop her from losing her head in the pleasure of finally having Tighnari; and letting him have her the way she knew he'd been dreaming of for months by now.

When Tighnari finally comes back to his senses, his heart beating in his throat and mouth open wide to allow for a steadier flow or air to make it into his rushing veins, his pulse instantly flares up again.

Y/N, having moved herself up to be near-straddling him, hovering just above the seat of his hips, was already looking right at him. She leans forward, pressing the warmth radiating from her chest closer to Tighnari's face as her hands wander down her frame, slowly but surely.

"Welcome back to the world of the living~" She jests, her tone breathy and interrupted by a moan as she leads her gentle hand down to her neglected core. Tighnari can do nothing but watch, pupils swallowing what is left of the colour in his irises, ears twitching forward in interest.

He actually wasn't out of it for long -probably barely even making it to a minute- but he didn't need to know that.

It was much too entertaining, watching his eyes regain just a smidge of recognition, before he descends back into the clutches of desire at hearing a wet 'squelch'.

When he looks back down from her face, her lips pulled into a sweet smirk, he inconspicuously licks his lips, not even trying to feign disinterest.

Her fingers, having at last made their way down between her own thighs, slid between the sticky lips of her desperate pussy, pressing on past the tender nub of her aching clit and spreading her lower lips enough to reveal her eager little hole, twitching and sore from being empty for so long, deprived of attention.

To Tighnari, it was another form of torture. Seeing her dripping pussy, clenching around nothing and begging to be filled, oh so close to his bare cock, yet just out of reach with nothing he can do about it. It was cruel.

He knew he could make her feel good, knew he could return the favour if only she'd let him. He let out a low growl just at the thought, his mind wandering between different scenarios of how he'd take her, bending her over and stuffing her full of him, leaving her bathing in his scent, finally marked as his. Or how he'd let her use him as she felt appropriate, whenever she wanted, how she could just jump on him out in the forest and make him submit to her, eagerly following her every command.

She notices that he's not all there with her, knows he's thinking up his own desires and situations that she'd gladly take him up on at some point. She allows him to continue, watching him enjoy the show she provides him with as she prepares herself for the stretch of his dick.

Getting lost in the pleasure she's giving to herself, Y/N forces herself to continue, bringing her fingers back to slide into her slick hole, letting out a mewl at finally getting some much-needed stimulation.

Tighnari bucks up at the sound, growling from deep within his throat and fangs showing from between his pulled back lips. His control wavers as he feels that tempting heat so close to his once-again hard cock.

He's writhing now, desperately trying to break free from the hold of the vines around his wrists, claws digging into them and leaving trails of dew and sap clinging to his arms. He'd even scratched up his bedpost where his hands had been fisting around the wood, shallow gashes marring the planks as he growls and whines and babbles about how, "I can make you feel so good! Please j-just let me go~", and, "just lemme fuck you already~"

Her free hand shoots forward to press into his cheeks, squishing them together with her nails digging in slightly, leaving pretty little crescents for her to admire soon after.

With his attention finally back on her (and not the her of his own mind-made fantasies), she corrects, "Oh, but 'Nari... we've waited for this moment for so long. What's another hour?"

He freezes completely, eyes wide and slack jawed. With a shaky voice, he lets out in almost a squeak, "an hour?!"

Choosing to ignore him and letting her hand drop from his face, she trails her hand down his jaw, his neck and all the way down to his collar bones, where she intermittently taps along the path that they make along his chest. With each tap, Tighnari flinches, before her hand finally comes to a standstill. Looking down at her hand, he waits a few moments for her to do something. A few more moments. And a few more.

Still, nothing.

Confused, Tighnari looks up to Y/N's face, finding her looking straight at him, eyes deep and dark. Nervous and still feeling impatient about wanting to finally be inside of her, his tail starts swishing underneath him, tickling her knees. She pays this no mind.

"You can wait, Tighnari. Can't you? You can be good."

It feels less like a question than it does a command, but either way it serves to settle him down.

With both of them being relaxed again, Y/N slowly returns to where they left off, two fingers sliding into her dripping hole as she leans back far enough for Tighnari to see everything. As she stretches herself out, letting out low moans and breaths as she paces herself, Tighnari continues to whine at each wet push and pull of her fingers and shudder as the smell of her building arousal takes over the room.

As she gets closer to her high, the coil in her core tightening further with each thrust of her fingers and each shortened breath, she pulls her own hand away with a discontent gasp. Letting out unsteady puffs of air, she leans her head back and let's herself adjust to the loss of her high, the heat inside of her only growing with need.

During all of this, Tighnari drinks in the view, uncontrollably bucking his hips every now and then, but staying quiet so as not to disrupt the show. But he couldn't help the excitement growing behind his wide eyes.

This meant that she was ready for him. That she wanted to cum on him. With him.

At long last, she takes hold of Tighnari's cock, rock-hard and dripping, and carefully aligns it with her pulsing hole. She hesitates for a moment, and Tighnari holds his breath. But it was only a moment.

And then she drops.

Wasting no time to surprise the ranger beneath her, she lowers herself in one sure movement, ass flush against his shivering thighs.

Neither bothering to bite back their unabashed moans, their voices mix together in the humid air, rejoicing in finally being together, in having each other.

Staying still, allowing both to adjust to the heat, to the pulses, to the suction, to the stretch, Y/N leans forward, her arms locking behind Tighnari's neck and chest pressing to his, sharing the heat and sweat as their fluids mix together, as they become one.

Looking deep into his eyes, once he relaxes enough, she moves. And then he is tensing once again.

His hands lock against the headboard, claws digging deeper than before, shredding and tearing into the wood as if he were a trapped animal, desperate to escape, when that couldn't possibly be further from the truth.

Well, not exactly. He absolutely wanted to be rid of the vines which still held him prisoner, wanted to touch Y/N, wanted to grip her hips and sink his claws into her, to taste her and feel her and truly have her. All of her.

Her hips, never stopping in their movements, lift up and then descend with a loud, repeating slap that resounds around the room, coming back around and echoing into their ears and giving the illusion that everything was happening so much faster than it was. It made everything so much more real. Proved to Tighnari once and for all that this was really happening, driven home by the obscene smacking of her hips against his own, spreading and smearing their sticky, combines juices. It stuck to both of their thighs, and more of the thick, white mixture constantly dribbled out around his drenched cock on each outward pull from her pussy, eagerly sucking him back in.

Taking her lips into a heated kiss, Tighnari intertwines his tongue with hers, swallowing each other's moans as if they truly cared whether anyone heard them.

Separating for air, Y/N's face comes to rest in Tighnari's shoulder, licking the side of his neck -his scent gland-, simultaneously scratching the itch there and making it worse. Her satisfied moans play on repeat in his mind, getting high on the mumbled and hurried "Good boy, doing so good, you feel so good~!"

With tears in his eyes, not far from trickling down his cheeks and leaving pitiful tracks, Tighnari sobs: "Pl- ahhn~! Please lemme touch you!" His head throws back onto the pillows, back arching as his stomach tightens, "Wanna cum inside you! Please l-let me! Wanna hold you, please~!"

Catching her breath a bit, Y/N leans back to sit up on his hips, still riding him at her own pace -even if it had accelerated a bit since they'd started.

"Awhh... but, do you really deserve it, 'Nari?"

His head nods almost aggressively, little "Mhm! Mhm!"s shooting from him without control.

"Well... I'll let you go, and you can cum inside of me, if... you tell me how long you've wanted me." Her nails trail down his chest, lightly scratching him, leaving red trails that only serve to heighten his pleasure and make his eyes flutter.

"Ahn~ Ahh- since we met 'n the forest- mmh!" His hips jerked, seemingly at the memory, disrupting her pace and making her groan as she was pushed to sit further down on him, pushing him deeper, before picking the pace back up to what it had been.

"Yeah?" She huffed, her eyes squeezing shut as she grew closer to her peak. "When was that?"

"A-after the storm! Nngh~ Ah- I've wanted you since I first saw you!"

"Well then..." She leans down to whisper sensually in his ear, grinding her hips harder against his as she took him to the base, "the feeling's mutual. I must admit, 'Nari, that was a cute confession~"

Suddenly, Tighnari's arms were dropped from their position held behind his head, and as soon as he realised he had control over where he could put them, they instantly gravitated to take hold of Y/N's hips. Instead of trying to take control of the pace she'd set (not that he had the mental capacity to even consider it, at this point), he used the strength he had left to help her come down on him harder, taking some of the strain off of her legs, which were starting to grow tired.

Feeling him start to pulse and twitch inside of her tight, gripping walls, Y/N calls out to him, "Good boy... cum in me, 'Nari. Cum inside 'f me, I wanna feel you dripping out 'f me in the morning~"

At that, with his natural instincts telling him to mark her with his scent, to breed her, he cums with a cry when she slams her hips down on his own with one last drop, her walls sucking him in and begging for his cum as much as her words had.

His warmth flooded deep inside of her, sticking to her walls as they both let out a loud moan. She came to the hot feeling taking over her core, the feeling in itself new to her, making her feel completely full, even more so than when the girth of Tighnari had first spread her tender walls apart.

As they came down together, basking in the aftershocks of pleasure, their breaths mingling in the short distance between them, Tighnari pulled Y/N down to settle comfortably at his side on the bed. After a few blissful minutes, his careful hand reaches out to lay on her heated cheek as they face each other.

"I love you." His voice stands out in the silence of the room, but the certainty that he speaks with leaves no room for doubt.

"... I love you too."

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

@swivy123

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #tighnari #tighnari x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #Writing for an ask~🩷

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shikai-the-storyteller · 4 months

Text

Routeriver's selkie Hideduo drawing reminded me of the old Hideduo + Tazercraft Mermaid / Nautical AU I started writing wayyyy back in October, so I dug up my old notes because I was feeling nostalgic.

I've moved on to other fics since then, but I really like the portion I did end up writing, so here's the opening scene along with some extra notes I made when I first came up with the idea.

—

One of the most common misconceptions about merfolk was that they'd die without water.

The other was that they only lived in the ocean.

Pac didn’t always live in the ocean; he grew up in a freshwater river with a large estuary at its mouth. There were plenty of fish to catch and more than enough space for him to swim freely without fear of the dangers that normally roamed deeper waters. It was only when Pac got older that he ventured out to sea and began traveling – which is how he wound up meeting his best friend.

According to Mike, a common misconception about selkies was that they could swim with or without their pelt. Mike said it might be true for others, but not for him. When he was younger, he almost never used his human form, so trying to swim without his pelt made him panic and claw at the water in a feeble attempt to keep from sinking like a rock. Thanks to many lessons from Pac, Mike was a strong swimmer in both forms now, but when Pac first met him, Mike was stranded alone on a remote beach. A handful of human boys were in the water jeering at Mike, and Pac felt a pang of sympathy and anger as he saw them waving a seal pelt just out of Mike's reach. Every time he tried to wade out to them, they'd move into deeper water, and Mike would have to scramble back to avoid getting pulled in by the current. Only when Pac swam underneath the boys and grabbed one by his ankle did they let go of the pelt, shrieking about sharks as they swam to shore as fast as they could.

He and Mike were best friends ever since, and not a day passed that Pac didn't have Mike by his side.

Except for today.

Even after being trapped with him for so long, Pac still didn’t know what kind of creature Cell was. Cell once told Pac he could smell blood in the water a mile away, and his night vision far surpassed either of theirs, allowing him to explore parts of the ocean neither of them dared to venture.

Both these thoughts were in Pac’s mind as he and Mike executed their escape plan and trapped Cell in the winding underwater caves of a cenote. Pac didn’t know what Cell was, but he knew that Cells’ claws were sharp and his teeth were even sharper. Half of Pac's fins were shredded to ribbons mid-escape while he tried to buy Mike time. That alone might've been a death sentence, but Pac's tail was the real problem.

The water around them was quickly being dyed a murky brown from the deep long gashes Cell left behind on Pac. Every movement only made the pain worse, and the water was getting so dark with his blood Pac could hardly see, let alone swim.

Here's the other thing most people don't know about merfolk: they're mammals.

Without air, they die.

The only reason Pac didn't drown was because of Mike. Mike was a faster swimmer than Pac in his seal form, and he could’ve – should’ve – escaped when Cell caught up to them, but he stayed. Mike did his best to help, encouraging Pac to lean against him as he inched them towards the surface, but Pac could barely keep his head above the water even when they reached it. Mike was a powerful swimmer, but he wasn't strong enough to carry Pac for long, and they were a long way from shore.

—

I know it's bad manners to end on a cliffhanger, but unfortunately this is all I wrote at the time! :'D I do have notes about what I wanted to happen next however, and notes about the rest of the cast.

After this scene, I planned to switch to Fit's POV. I imagined Fit as some kind of fisherman, and Ramon was his assistant (and adopted son) who wanted to become an engineer / inventor. They'd be out on the water hoping to catch some fish, and all of a sudden a harbor seal would flop into their boat. They'd laugh it off and assume it was after their fish, then Ramon would notice something was caught in their net, and they'd find a very injured and still bleeding Pac, who grabbed onto it to keep himself from sinking / drowning.

I do have a small piece from Fit's POV regarding the injury:

Fit was familiar with treating basic injuries, especially thanks to his time in the war. He knew how to do stitches, which came in handy back in the day when he had to tend to his own gaping wounds, and was still handy whenever Ramon came to him with holes in his clothes. Experience and quick-thinking was the reason Fit was still alive today, but the person – or whatever it was – bleeding out on the wet dirty floor of his boat was way outside his area of expertise. How can we help? Ramon signed to him. His eyes were wide with concern, but he didn't look afraid. No matter what happened, Ramon trusted him to know what to do, and he'd be damned if he let his son down now.

The story mostly fell apart after that because I had too many ideas for where I wanted to take it. I wanted to make Pac and Mike some kind of water-creature from Brazilian folklore since Selkies are from a very different region's mythology (wasn't too concerned about the mermaid bit though), but I also wanted to make sure I wasn't wading into any weird territory with that. (Before moving on to other projects, I was doing a lot of research on the lara myth, and similar "lady of the lake" stories.)

Another route I considered was making Fit a "merman" too, or reverse things entirely and have Tazercraft be human. I imagined 2B2T as a deep ocean battleground, which Fit only leaves after losing his arm in a battle. Pac and Mike find him washed up on the beach, and they take him to their lab, where Fit wakes up and nearly bites Mike's arm off.

Other aspects of the story I wound up incorporating into different projects, so you might see those in future fics (which I'll hopefully finish someday).

Even though this is an unfinished story, I hope you enjoy the concept! I sure do.

#QSMP #Tazercraft #Pac #Mike #qsmp talk #fic talk #I didn't edit this much so if it's not too polished that's why #<- I definitely did make a few tweaks though #I'm incapable of posting rough drafts. I'm trying to change that

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annikin-annotates · 6 months

Text

Tear You Apart

Hi ya'll, I'm back from hiatus with a completely new brand of bullshit. This is my first try at a dark fic, so things are going to get...well, dark. So if that's not your thing that's perfectly okay, feel free to skip this, I will have more Astarion content coming out in due time!

Content warnings: Non-con, Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, Smut, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Choking, Antagonist is NOT Astarion.

Word Count: 2,025

Prologue

He could pinpoint the exact point in time when he became fascinated with Selkies. He was young, no older than ten; he had been playing on the beach with a few friends when they had stumbled across a woman lying on the sand, he had been shoved forward by them to approach the woman.

He could still recall even the most minute details of her, the way her dark hair fluttered in the sun, how it took on a deep red hue when the light caught it just right. Or how her lashes fluttered against her freckled cheeks to reveal the most striking eyes he had ever seen - or would ever see again. Deep in his heart he knew what she was, a Selkie. It was evident in the way she sat up abruptly, having realised she had been found lounging on the sand, enjoying the warm summer sun.

Things were blurry past that point - all he truly remembered was that sound of a hauntingly beautiful song lulling him into a trance, guiding him across the sand and into the tide. Salty water filling his mouth and lungs as he tried to scream out for help, opening his mouth only allowed more water to flood in. He remembered how much it burned - his eyes mostly, the salt and gritty sand scraping against them.

He remembered blackness, and then waking up in his room. At first he thought it had been a dream, but when his mother - who had been sitting dutifully at his bedside - realised he had awakened, she began to lecture him about the dangers of Selkies and venturing too close to the water's edge.

—

Selkies were incredibly powerful, and though Baldur’s Gate had no shortage of magic users, a Selkie would allow him to seize control of the docks entirely. He already had the Harbour master under his thumb, but securing a Selkie would all but ensure that it would stay that way. Their mastery of water was something every journal, book, and tome he could get his hands on mentioned.

All of them had the ability to lure men and women to their deaths with just their voices, and the ability to shape and change the currents of the ocean. It was a powerful tool for him to have, with the help of a Selkie, nothing would enter or leave Grey Harbour without his say so. He knew in order to procure such a rare oddity, he would have to call in a few favours from people in high places.

The elven steel chain glinted in the flickering candle light of the room, as if taunting him, reminding him of his failures. He sighed longingly, his attempts to call in favours had all been fruitless. The search for someone brave, or perhaps stupid enough, to aid in his search for a Selkie hadn’t proved fruitful either. Though he had heard tell of a colony that would pass through the Chionthar to head for warmer waters for the winter.

A cocktail of feelings coursed through him; excitement, relief, lust. The letter he held in his fingers depicted that his search for the Selkie had finally come to a close, years of his life had come to a rather satisfying crescendo. The parchment crinkled under his fingertips as he scanned the letter, again and again, searching for anything he had missed, any inkling of deception or trickery.

The Harbour Master had required his immediate attendance at the docks, that the matter was urgent and could not wait. He stood from the plush chair in his office and made for the door, clicking his fingers at the two guards outside, “You two, with me - we have business to tend to,” as he brushed past them. They crossed the threshold of the establishment, patrons either too enveloped in their own business to notice, or too fearful to look up - he smirked.

When they arrived at the harbour, it had begun to rain, the large droplets collided with the creaking wood of the dock's warehouse. Stagnant air and ocean water assaulted him as he slid the door open enough to walk comfortably through, but not enough to reveal the wares that were inside.

“Show her to me,” he ordered, gesturing for the Harbour Master to lead the way.

He simply nodded, taking him down a series of high shelves, overflowing with prohibited goods he had collected over the years. The group descended a set of stairs and followed down another hall, before they reached a door, the Harbour Master unlocked it before stepping aside, leaving him to open it himself. He couldn’t believe the sight in front of him, a Selkie, all tied up for him like a gift.

She was beautiful, lying peacefully in his arms, dark tresses spilling over his arms like tendrils of shadow; moonlight hit her skin in such a way that it glowed, shimmering shades of green, purple and blue. “Here, boss. Let me carry her,” his companion said, reaching for the woman in his arms. He took two steps back from him, angling her away; she was something to be coveted, he didn’t want her tainted by anyone else just yet, not when he hadn’t had her to himself yet.

—

He eyed her hungrily as he circled her like a predator rounding up its kill before it pounced, fear making the flesh sweeter. The scent of fear was unmistakable, it came off her in waves - she was drenched in it. She was weak and powerless, and he could take what he wanted from her, exact whatever fantasy he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. He would start with a gentle touch, lul her into compliance, and if she did not comply; he would have no choice but to resort to more unsavoury methods.

She ran. Oh how he enjoyed it when they ran.

His darling Selkie had made quite the show in front of his patrons, all her kicking and screaming only adding fuel to his hunger for her. He had her exactly where he wanted her, huddled on the floor between his feet, cowering in fear, the notion had sent a jolt of electricity through him; he could not help but relish in it, this creature that nearly caused his demise all those years ago.

He crouched down to her, thumb and forefinger poised to gently tilt her chin towards him, “How pretty you sound when you beg, pet,” he cooed, his voice rich like honey. She had almost leaned into his touch, only to have his hopes of this being easy, dashed as a white hot pain radiated from his hand. She had bit him! He had been nothing but gentle with her and this is how she repaid him?

An unstoppable anger boiled up from deep within him, the back of his hand colliding with the supple flesh of her cheek. An animalistic hiss tore through the silence of the room, warm blood splattering across his face and fine clothes. He couldn’t help but find the allure in the wild and blood covered thing in front of him, vicious and waiting to be tamed and brought to heel.

A moment of silence followed as they stared at each other, sizing one another up; there was no way he would let her leave the confines of this room, not until he was done with her. She knew that as well as he did, and yet she tried to push herself to her feet, he could admire her determination. By the time she had gotten to her knees he had her by the wrist, the softness of her skin dimpling beneath his grip.

“Come now, love, surely we can enjoy each other’s company for a while?” he whispered, staring down at her, her eyes screwed shut.

“I want to go home,” she begged, oh how sweet the sound was falling from her lips. He would have her begging for him and not her home soon enough.

A malicious grin spread across his face, eyes darkening as he backed her against the bed, “You are not going anywhere. I am going to devour you, again and again, until there is nothing left of you,” he hummed into her ear, the flat of his teeth grazing the flesh of her neck, punctuating the sentiment.

“Then I hope I rot in your stomach,” she gritted as he wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her flush against him, long fingers splaying across the small of her back.

“Oh my dear, sweet girl, I’m going to have you wishing for death,” he crooned, delighting in the fear that continued to permeate through her body, despite the brave front she put on. He looked forward to breaking her down piece by piece.

She yielded to his advances, feeling her melt into his body as he set her down gently onto the bed. She felt so good against him, the warmth of her body ebbing into him, everything about her was so utterly enthralling, so…delicious; the way her eyes were lust filled, her pupils blown wide, the way her breath hitched as he nipped at the sensitive flesh of her neck. He brought his face down to her, catching her lips with his own in a searing kiss that only spurred his lust filled actions further.

She wanted this, he told himself. She wanted this as much as he did.

She was completely bare for him, all soft curves and saccharine sweetness, practically begging for him to take her. He wanted to take her apart piece by piece, to sink into her flesh and become one with her. He began to shift once more, trailing kisses down her throat towards her collarbones and then to her breasts. A smirk crossed his lips, feeling her back arch into him as he took one of her nipples into his mouth. His kisses became more ravenous and possessive the closer he got to her core.

His hands trailed her skin as if mapping out uncharted territory before coming to rest at the underside of her thighs, pulling her harshly towards the edge of the bed. He dove into her without warning, the flat of his tongue licking a bold stripe across her bare cunt. A salacious moan tore from her lips as she buried her fingers in his hair, talons biting into his scalp, urging him to dive into her once more.

“That’s it my love, don’t fight it,” he encouraged, feeling her core tighten around his fingers as they worked her, feeling her become more pliant to his touch. The combination of his deft fingers and tongue sent her over the edge, lips crying praise and prayers alike. An unmistakable surge of pride coursed through him; she was being so good for him and he would drain her of every drop of goodness she had.

He had her exactly where he wanted her, she was an unbroken beast waiting to be tamed and bent to her master’s will. The way she looked up at him with her eyes that swirled like a thunderstorm on the horizon, told him that she was his, body and soul. A frenzy over took him as she batted her pretty eyes at him, her head loling back into the softness of the sheets.

He was a ship sailing in unknown waters, and she was the tempest that had come to drown him. Her body would serve as the rocks he would be dashed against, he closed his eyes in bliss as he sank into her, savouring the feeling of her talons at the nape of his neck; he finally had everything he could ever want.

He had waited until exhaustion had taken her, to dress her in a thin shift to protect her modesty, she was only for him, only him, that dark possessiveness within him growled. He opened the box that had long sat untouched in his office, slipping the necklace around her delicate neck, pausing for a moment to admire the mottled bruises that had begun to bloom. She was truly his now.

Let the games begin.

A big thank you to @arcielee for beta reading for me and @amiraisgoingthruit for sitting through countless snippets of this, I appreciate you both so much!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! it really helps get my work out there!

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate #baldursgate #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion x female reader #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #dead dove fic

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moeitsu · 28 days

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A fisher of men and A strange encounter.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All ChaptersCh.1 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again

The chill of May lingered as Kate set up camp near the riverbank, where patches of snow still clung to the ground. With the water icy cold, bathing was out of the question, but she found comfort in the soothing melody of the flowing stream. Nearby, Lorena grazed peacefully as Kate hummed a tune and cast her line, hoping for a catch to satisfy her hunger.

It had been two weeks since her stagecoach heist with Arthur and Hosea. Since then, Seamus hasn’t given her any more dubious tasks, and she hasn’t seen the two men either. She went back to being a ranch hand for a bit until she told Seamus it was time she moved on again. She followed the river south until she found a suitable spot to set up camp for the night.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but still chilly enough for a jacket. "It's cold, but at least the fish don't seem to mind," Kate remarked to herself as she felt a strong tug on her fishing line. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked the fish and began reeling it in, “Cmon now don’t fight too hard,” she mused to herself.

Lorena whinnied for attention "easy, girl," Kate murmured, as she made a noise behind her again. "Let me pull this in first." Suddenly, the quiet scene shattered as Lorena squealed in fear, her hooves pounding the ground. Kate's heart raced as she spun around, spotting a small copperhead slithering toward her mare.

"Sh-shhh, it's alright, it's just a snake," Kate reassured, her voice trembling slightly. But Lorena, in a state of panic, bolted downstream. With a grunt, Kate abandoned her fishing pole and chased after her horse. "Lorena! It's okay, girl, you're alright!" she called out, her voice echoing over the rushing water.

Though reluctant to admit it, Kate knew this wasn't the first time Lorena had been spooked. Usually, the mare's restlessness signaled impending danger, but snakes remained her Achilles' heel. It was a fear Kate couldn't rid her beloved horse of, even if she tried. Not that she ever would.

As they rounded the bend of the river, Kate lost sight of Lorena, but the mare's hoofprints remained etched in the sand. With a silent prayer, she pressed on, hoping her companion hadn't ventured too far.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

"Think this spot looks good, Uncle Arthur," chirped the little boy from his saddle as they neared the riverbank's edge.

"I think you’re right Jack. Let's give it a shot and see if we can reel in some fish," Arthur replied, guiding Belle to the sandy shore and helping Jack dismount.

Taking the smaller fishing pole from Arthur, Jack asked, "Where should we stand?"

"Right by the shoreline, just follow me," Arthur directed, leading Jack to the water's edge. "See those ripples? That's where you'll want to cast your line. Just aim for that, and you'll snag 'em."

“I wanna try!” He exclaimed impatiently while Arthur baited their lines with cheese.

"Okay kiddo, watch me. Hold the line over your shoulder like this," Arthur demonstrated, guiding Jack's movements. "Now, swing it forward smoothly, using your wrist, not your elbow."

Jack mimicked his uncle's actions eagerly. "Like this?"

"Exactly! Well done, Jack. Now, all we do is wait for a fish to take the bait," Arthur said proudly, as Jack beamed up at him, standing closer by his side.

As Arthur watched Jack with a mixture of pride and guilt, he realized how long it had been since they'd spent quality time together. Since their escape from Blackwater, life had been a whirlwind of tasks assigned by Dutch and taking care of the camp, leaving little room for personal time. He was about to leave camp again when Abigail asked if Arthur would watch Jack for her. Dutch would most likely make a comment about it later, but at the moment he couldn't care.

After a minute of peaceful silence, Jack looked up at him again with a curious expression. "Uncle Arthur, can the fish see us?"

Arthur chuckled at the unexpected question. "Well, not exactly like how you see me. It's a bit blurry for them, I reckon," he replied, scratching his head at the complexity of explaining fish vision to a four-year-old.

"Oh, okay. Can they hear us then?" Jack fired another question.

"Pretty much the same, I suppose," Arthur replied with a grin. "They can hear us, but not as clear as you and I can hear each other. Why all the questions, Jack?"

"Do fish talk?" Jack pressed on, undeterred by his uncle's attempt to change the subject.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Well, Jack, do other animals talk?" he countered, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Jack paused for a moment, pondering the question. "Hmm, nope. Can't think of any," he admitted.

"Exactly. So, no, fish don't talk," Arthur affirmed, looking down at Jack, who seemed lost in thought, gazing at the grasses behind them.

"Uncle Arthur, I'm bored," Jack suddenly declared, breaking the silence.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh, realizing his attempt at fishing with his young nephew hadn't been the most thrilling activity. "Yeah, I figured as much," he muttered to himself. Louder, he addressed Jack, "You know what? Why don't you go explore? Just stay close to me, alright?" But before Arthur could finish his sentence, Jack darted off toward a nearby pool of rocks.

As Arthur continued fishing, lost in his own thoughts, he heard the loud approach of hoofbeats. Instinctively, he jumped to intercept the approaching stranger before they could draw too close to him and Jack. To his surprise, the horse charging toward him was unmistakably Kate's, riderless and wild.

"Ain’t that Kate's horse?" Arthur muttered to himself in disbelief, raising his hands in a futile attempt to calm the agitated mare. "Easy, girl, it's alright," he murmured soothingly.

Jack, drawn by the commotion, hurried to join Arthur, his eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa! Where'd that horse come from?" he exclaimed.

"Stay behind me, Jack. She's spooked, and I don't want her to accidentally harm you," Arthur cautioned. As he tried to assess the situation he recognized it was indeed Kate's horse but was unable to recall its name. Peering down the riverbank where the horse had emerged, he found no sign of its owner.

With gentle words and a steady hand, Arthur coaxed the horse into submission, finally gaining control of the reins. "What kinda trouble you in, girl?" he wondered aloud, stroking her snout.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Kate followed the hoof prints of her mare, she rounded another bend in the river and finally spotted her beloved horse. "Oh thank god," she murmured, letting out a relieved sigh. Right before realizing there were two figures accompanying Lorena—a burly man and a small boy, both appearing to have been fishing.

About to call out her gratitude, Kate stopped as the man turned, revealing himself to be Arthur, the same man from the stagecoach incident. Surprised yet somewhat pleased to see him, memories of their previous encounter flooded back, particularly their pleasant conversation during the ride back from Carmody Dell. They had talked about their horses and she knew Lorena was in good hands with him.

"Mr. Morgan! I can't thank you enough. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble," Kate called out, jogging to meet them. Arthur looked up at the sound of his name, visibly relieved at her arrival, replied, "Miss McCanon! I was a little worried when I saw your horse come through here without you."

"She got spooked by a snake, that's all," Kate explained, petting Lorena affectionately. "She's a bit dramatic, though," she added with a hint of amusement.

As a small face peeked around Arthur's frame, Kate smiled warmly, realizing it must be his son. "Your horse is very pretty, miss," the boy remarked shyly.

“Thank you, would you like to pet her?” She asked with a smile, the boy nodded, “she’s a little shy so just go slow, let her come to you.” The child looked up at Arthur and only approached once he nodded a go ahead.

"Getting tired of Seamus' dubious stagecoach business, I take it?" Arthur teased, prompting laughter from Kate. Their banter flowed effortlessly, she found Arthur refreshingly different from most men she encountered. He had a playful and protective aura, with a bit of something else that made her incredibly intrigued. Or maybe it was just because he was handsome.

Kate smiled and shook her head with a laugh, “not quite. Just about time I move on I guess. I was only passin’ through. I see you’re still here enjoying the countryside though, haven’t given up on robbing stagecoaches yet?” She teased back.

Before Arthur could respond, the boy blurted out, "Uncle Arthur and my daddy robbed a—" Arthur swiftly intervened, diverting attention away from the boy's revelation.

"Kids have wild imaginations," Arthur chuckled nervously, steering the conversation back. "So, um, where are you heading? Camping around here?" he inquired.

So Jack is his nephew, Kate smiled to herself, these two were adorably entertaining, her heart panged slightly at the memory of what her life could have looked like. Her grief still makes itself present in the cracks of her being even after all these years. "Just going west, no place in particular. My camp is just downstream," she replied, gesturing in the direction she came from.

Jack tugged on Arthur’s sleeve and motioned for him to bend down, with a slight roll of his eyes he kneeled down to his level, “can we invite her back to camp?” The boy whispered not so quietly.

“Jack you can’t go inviting every stranger you meet back to camp,” he spoke sternly, “you know we’re on the run, we gotta be safe around here.” He added quietly, the boy looked up sadly but nodded in understanding. Arthur entertained the thought of inviting Kate back to the camp, he knew she was taking on odd jobs and constantly on the move. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she stayed for a few days. He would never admit it, but he was a little disappointed they didn't cross paths again in the two weeks since the heist.

“Ah, hell, why not” he breathed, turning back to Kate, “It’ll get pretty cold tonight, winters still not through in these parts. My camp is up on Horseshoe overlook,” he took his hat off bashfully, “If you’d like a warm fire, and some good company, you're welcome to join us.”

As Kate was about to respond to Arthur's invitation, the rhythmic thud of hooves interrupted them. Two men in detective uniforms descended toward the water, casting a shadow over their gathering. "What a touching and complex circumstance we have here," one of the men remarked as he dismounted, while the other leveled his rifle at Arthur. Sensing danger, Kate instinctively stayed close to her horse.

Protectively, Arthur positioned himself in front of Jack as the man approached. "Arthur, is it? Arthur Morgan?" he inquired, his tone heavy with accusation.

"Who are you?" Arthur countered, his voice tight with tension.

"Yes, Arthur Morgan," the man echoed, “Van Der Linde’s most trusted associate, orphaned street kid seduced by that maniac's silver tongue. And matures into a degenerate murderer.” He finished.

Arthur's tension escalated, leaving Kate astounded. She harbored suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye, but the revelation of being wanted for murder caught her completely off guard. Despite the shock, she found herself even more intrigued by the supposed outlaw.

“I’m agent Milton, and this is agent Ross,” he gestured to the other gentleman holding the rifle. “We’re with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It's nice to finally meet you,” he looked over at Kate and added, “and you as well miss. Who might you be?”

"Madeleine McCanon," Kate responded, opting for a false name to distance herself from whatever was about to unfold. Agent Milton pressed further, questioning her connection to Arthur.

“Do you know this man?” He inquired, but before she could answer he continued, “because we sure know him.” His tone, that of a detective accustomed to authority, carried a hint of arrogance, as if he relished the prospect of confrontation.

“Oh do you?” Arthur said coldly.

“He’s a wanted man, Miss McCanon,” he said, turning to face her, “There's five thousand dollars for his head alone.” Kate glanced a look at Arthur but made no sign of her surprise.

Arthur chuckled, "Five thousand dollars? For me?" He glanced around casually. "Can I turn myself in?" he quipped.

Agent Milton's expression remained stern. "We want Van der Linde. A man matching his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall a few weeks back."

Kate's memory jolted as she recalled reading about the robbery in the paper. It was carrying money to fund a new oil rig off the Wapiti reservation. Thousands of dollars were stolen, but none of the passengers on the train were injured.

“Ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays?” Arthur attempted, trying to sound innocent.

“Apparently not,” Milton deadpanned, “this is my offer Mr. Morgan: You bring us Van der Linde. And you have my word you won't swing.”

“Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways agent Milton. You see, I haven't done anything wrong, aside from not playing the game by your rules.” He argued condescendingly.

Milton's tone grew sterner. "I appreciate this society."

“You enjoy being a rich man's toy!” Arthur snapped back.

“You people venerate savagery, and you will die savagely,” Milton emphasized.

Arthur's voice dripped with defiance. "All of us are gonna die someday, agent, some sooner than others."

With that, Milton turned on his heel and walked toward his horse. "Good day to you, Mr. Morgan," he said as he departed. "And if you know what's good for you, Miss McCanon, stay far away from this man. Unless you want to end up dead like his friend Mac Callander."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur cursed under his breath, " fuck ." He turned to face Kate, Jack looking between them, unsure of what to do next.

Feeling like a complete fool for inviting Kate back to camp, Arthur realized he had just given away Dutch's whereabouts and Milton exposed their crimes to her. He had hoped she would be safe for a night or two at camp without knowing their true identities, but now, with everything at stake, he wrestled with the decision. The lives of his gang were paramount, but involving an innocent woman in their mess weighed heavily on his conscience. He would never force her, but with everything at stake now he hoped she would still come back with him. Or else she might go inform the authorities of their whereabouts.

“So, railway workers from the North huh?” Kate questioned, breaking him from his thoughts.

“If you’ll let me explain miss-” he started, unsure what was about to come out of his mouth.

With the revelation of Arthur's true identity and the dangers it presented, Kate found herself torn between fear and curiosity. While her instincts screamed at her to flee from these outlaws, there was an inexplicable pull towards Arthur. Despite the fear gnawing at her, she couldn't shake the connection she felt with him. There was something in his eyes, a vulnerability masked by his tough exterior, that resonated with her own struggles.

"I'll come with you," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within her. "I've never been one to shy away from a little danger, and besides," she added with a wry smile, "I've always had a knack for finding trouble."

Arthur looked at her, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flickering in his eyes. He knew the risks she was taking by choosing to stand by him, but he also couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over him.

His gaze softened and he bent down to lift Jack up onto his saddle, “well, it’s getting late. Want to head back with us?”he asked, settling himself in behind the boy.

Kate nodded and answered, “I’d be happy to. Let me grab my things from camp and I’ll meet you back here,” she replied, gracefully mounting Lorena.

With those words, she cantered off downstream, disappearing into the fading light.

“Why did those men ask where Uncle Dutch is?” Jack questioned, his voice tinged with innocence.

“Because… well, those are disagreeable men. And they want to hurt Dutch.”Arthur explained, his tone grave.

“Like they hurt Mac?” Jack's voice was small, filled with concern.

Arthur hesitated, then replied, “Ahh don't worry about Mac, I’m sure he’s alright wherever he is. They were just trying to scare us is all,” he patted Jack's shoulder reassuringly., “the world is full of disagreeable men. That’s why you got all of us, to protect you from folk like them.”

“Is that why you invited Miss McCanon back to camp, to protect her from the bad guys too?” he asked innocently.

Arthur chuckled, masking his uncertainty. "Uh, yeah, something like that," he replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He wasn't sure why exactly he invited Kate to stay with him, sure, he didn't like the idea of her being alone in the cold. But why did he care? Something about the woman intrigued him, and it wasn't just her pretty horse.

Unexpectedly, Jack's voice piped up again. "Uncle Arthur, what does 'fuck' mean?"

Arthur's laughter bubbled up, realizing the boy listens more than he cares to let on. "It means your mother will slap me if she hears you say that word," he joked, relieved for the distraction.

At that moment, the steady beat of hooves announced Kate's return.

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #jack marston #rdr2 fanfic #fluff #angst #x reader #oc x canon

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artficlly · 9 months

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lady of the ghosts [chapter 8]

After a great plague ravages your city, you are looking to marry to secure safety for your people. With a war finally ending, the nearby kingdoms are looking to celebrate. King James "Bucky" Barnes decides to continue his family's tradition of hosting a courting season. A medieval courting marvel AU.

Pairing: king!bucky x lady!reader

Warnings: FLUFF, sexual tension, some angst, mention of sex work, mention of war, mention of funeral, tiny amount of anxiety/doubt, swearing, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3.5

A/N: i wanted to make this a smaller chapter before shit hits the fan, very dialogue heavy and fluffy. please let me know what you think and reblog/like! sorry for any typos - enjoy!!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

It was said that Neume once dwelled in the waters surrounding Faliene. As a guardian of the city, she waited beneath the waves. If she detected malice on the ships that entered her waters, she would rise from the ocean floor, her body hulking and blue with seaweed and barnacles entangled across her flesh. She would seize the ships with an iron grip, the wood splintering and cracking under the strain. She would drag the sailors to the bottom of the dark, sandy sea, where they would either drown or perish in her crushing grip.

She was a protector in more ways than one; her presence wasn’t only to instill fear in those who ventured into the Falienean waters but also to aid those who worshiped her. They claimed she would herd the fish towards the fishermen who sailed off the coast, easing the giant schools into the hand-woven nets. On quiet, empty nights, some claim you could hear her singing. Her hums were reminiscent of whales, eerie and lonesome as they reached across the vast, vacant waters. Her song would lull the creatures to sleep, and only then could she be at peace.

According to legend, Nemue's deep sleep, brought on by her own song, is what caused Faliene's misfortunes to start. As her children waited for her to return, disease and evil crept into her beloved city and slowly poisoned those who remained. Faliene held her breath, waiting in anticipation for the return of her song. The north had been stuck in a slumber for too long; it was time for her to come alive once more.

The breeze was stronger than usual up on the rocky cliff of The Fishhook. The slowly rising sun partially melted the snow and ice below, where the waves pounded mercilessly along the exposed coast.

James squinted his azure eyes against the whipping wind, his hair tousled, and his cheeks pink. The two of you had decided to hike up the southernmost point of Faliene’s coastline before it turned to mountain and sea. You had taken the daunting and winding path upward to the peak of The Fishook, a large curved outlook that had been creatively named due to its shape. Halfway up the path, Steve and Peggy had left you behind in favor of exploring a tiny, frozen cave. You knew it was so they would have a moment alone to continue their activities from the Pass; it was harder to do so with King Harrison’s ever-watching eye.

“Do you see it?” The winds hurtling along the coast have left your lungs burning, and words are nearly stolen as your breath is ripped from you.

“You might have to point it out to me.” James’ admits sheepishly, eyes darting as he surveys the blue, glacial waters below. You step closer to him, careful and slow on the icy rock below, as the two of you are close to the dangerous edge. If the plummet didn’t kill you, the freezing waves crashing against the rocks certainly would.

With a gloved hand, you point at a darker patch of water, where presumably the ocean floor is deeper than the rest of the bay. James ducks his head, his eyeline following along to where you point. Your gaze is on the side of his face, watching each emotion cross while studying every twitch of his eyebrow or jaw.

“It’s supposed to look like a woman curled up on her side.” You explain, watching as he tilts his head ever-so-slightly, as if trying to see from a different perspective. James had been insistent on his prior promise of falling in love with the ghost city. Unlike the other guests, who mainly remained in the warmth of Fort Faliene, drinking and laughing their days away, James required endless exploration.

Sometimes you wondered if it was somewhat of a ploy to get you alone, as even if Steve and Peggy came along as ‘escorts’, the two of you frequently found yourselves abandoned by the pair. Steve and Peggy had more interest in each other's mouths and bodies than the sights of Faliene, unlike James, who remained enraptured by every story and sight you showed him.

You had toured him through the docks, the city, and the surrounding areas. The people of Faliene watched on with knowing smiles; even Brannigan seemed chuffed by your apparent familiarity with the King of Galanta. From what you gathered, the Falieneans were secretly pleased and were growing to forgive you for your lack of engagement. Why pester you about marrying a lord when you were actively seducing a king?

“I see it.” James speaks up from beside you, his confused expression melting into a grin. “Her head is facing the east.”

Your eyes flickered over the now familiar planes of his face, watching as he rubbed the stumble across his jaw out of habit. A small smile plays across your face, words leaving you despite your attention being nowhere near the shape of Neume in the waters below. “I know it’s silly, that it’s just the shape of the seafloor, but Falienean’s have always said it looks like Neume sleeping on her side.”

“You know, everyone always talks about how superstitious the north is, but I think it’s simply that we Southerners are too boring.” He replies, his eyes abruptly cutting to yours. There is a small smirk across his features as he notices your stare, and you look away, cheeks pink, now not only because of the cold.

“I don’t think you’re boring.” You hum quietly, your words nearly stolen by the next gust of wind as you look to your feet.

“We definitely are.”

You sucked on your teeth for a moment, tilting your head so you could see him through your peripherals. A smile crosses your face as you realize he’s been watching you the entire time, gloved fingers reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. You finally pluck up the courage to look back at him. “Tell me a story about Galanta, then. I will be the judge of whether it is boring or not.”

James lets out a long sigh, looking upwards at the horizon in thought. “They are all stories of war and death, I’m surprised I didn’t die of boredom as a child having to listen to all those tales–”

“You know that I like history.” You cut him off, playfully pushing at his chest. Your cheeks warm up more, realizing that the hard muscle beneath doesn't give under your touch. James chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at you. “Tell me a story about when you were at war then. Maybe that will be more exciting because you were actually fighting–”

“People who tell their own tales are always bragging.” James grumbles with a hard look, which quickly softens as he catches your pleading look. He shakes his head with a sigh, humming as if in thought. His hands mindlessly come to your cloak, gloved fingers twisting through the fur trimming.

“During the war,” He begins. “Steve and I stumbled upon Prince Micheal in a whorehouse. He was so drunk on ale that he could barely see, let alone walk. The girls were sick of him, so we offered to take him back to camp. The trip was short-lived, though… We grew tired of dealing with him, so we left him passed out in a pig pen. He didn’t return to camp until the next day, it was lunch when he stormed in. He was all covered in filth. He didn’t remember a thing, but he knew Steve and I had something to do with it, we could hardly keep a straight face due to the stench.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest, and you shake your head at the brunet. Steve had often mentioned how he and James tormented the Prince when they could. Those were tales that Steve would whisper to you over dinner, while Michael bragged and boasted about exaggerated stories further down the table. Though this was not a story you had heard before, you quickly learned that Steve was not as open with you about his secrets as you first assumed – his and Peggy’s affair being just one example. You wondered how many tales from the war were lost to you due to Steve's reluctance to share. This story seemed to have a glaringly obvious reason why.

“You and Steve frequented whorehouses?” You ask innocently, and you hear James suck in a sharp breath, his head tilting to look away guiltily. A teasing smile plays across your lips as you lean closer to him. “The good King James and his knight Sir. Rogers getting their cocks wet? How scandalous.”

You could imagine the girls in the whorehouses would have loved to be visited by James and Steve – rich, handsome war heroes? They would’ve been snatched away before they even put their foot in the door. You didn’t have envy or malice for the whores, unlike some ladies of court who bickered about the ‘filthy harlots roaming the war fronts’. You imagined James and Steve would’ve been a welcome break from the usual soldiers who would’ve wondered their way.

Beside you, James swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, and he looks back at you with surprise in his guarded eyes. You wondered if he had ever heard you speak in such a vulgar way before — Steve definitely had, especially when he schemed and got you a few drinks in. His hands reach out, gripping your waist to tug you even closer to his body, and you oblige with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s just the way of things during war.” He says, his voice husky and low as he looks down at you. His words hesitate, his tongue wetting his lower lip as he scans your face. “You’re telling me you didn’t bed a knight or two during the war? While you were all alone in Haiford Castle?”

Your smirk spreads. “You think King Harrison would’ve let me stay if he had any inkling that I wasn’t a virgin?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You allow your eyes to roam over his face as you take your time answering his question. You note the way his pupils have dilated and the subtle strain in his jaw, as if silent worry was clawing behind his cool demeanor.

“No. I didn’t.” You reply honestly. “You really think I would invite one of your knights into my bed, or even worse, a Haifordian knight?”

James grins at that, as if secretly pleased by your answer. You could imagine he made assumptions about you, considering your affinity for finding trouble and irritating authority. Even if you often made it your mission to irritate Prince Michael or King Harrison, you had never fallen to the depths of sleeping around with men you despised.

“I must be good then if you’re willing to have me.” He replies, his voice still low and rumbling in his chest.

“And who said you were invited into my bed?” Your eyes flutter upwards as you look at him through your lashes, a coy smile forming in response to his smirk.

James hums, his hands squeezing tighter as he presses a soft, gentle kiss to one of your exposed collarbones. His grin is cheeky as he raises his head once more, his expression near ravenous as he watches your breath hitch slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin. Everything about his touch and scent is intoxicating, and you nearly forget you are standing on an exposed cliff as you lean heavily into his touch.

“I am going to speak with King Harrison tonight.”

“About what?” You manage to stutter out. Your mind is hazy and confused as you try to focus on something other than the pattern he is tracing across your ribcage with his thumb.

“Us. Peggy.” James begins, and you stiffen under his touch. “I am going to gift Steve land and make him a lord – maybe a duke or a count. Something high-ranking enough for him to marry Peggy.”

“I haven’t even agreed to marry you.” You say through narrowed eyes. “Don’t you think this is too early?”

James looks down at you with a frown. “Where else will you go now that the funeral is complete? You can’t return to Haiford… If we settle this issue with King Harrison, you could return to Galanta with me–”

“What if I want to stay here?” You interrupt, and James snaps his mouth shut.

There is a long pause between the two of you, with James sighing slowly through his nose as his grip around your waist eases, his fingers no longer tracing delicate circles.

“Well…” James begins hesitantly. “Once we are married, you will have to balance your time between Faliene and Galanta, as will I. If you cannot lead Faliene until our marriage, it would be wise that you return to Galanta until the ceremonies–”

“I want to be married in Faliene.” You interrupt once more.

“I thought you said you hadn’t agreed–” He starts with a grin, only for you to cut over him again with a huff.

“Hypothetically. If there were a hypothetical marriage between us, I would want it to be here–”

He is still grinning as he speaks, as if amused. His eyebrows arch as he speaks. “You do realize the Galantaians would riot, right? Robbing them of a wedding celebration–”

“I am only just winning back the trust of my people, they would be insulted if I snubbed them–”

“Well, it is tradition for the wife to be married in the husband's–”

The playful tone that had built through your exchange quickly snaps, and a scowl crosses your face as you take a step back from him. “Please don’t tell me you’re under the assumption that a husband should be the only one in charge simply because he is male–”

“No – Y/N. No.” James gasps, exasperated. His gloved hand raises up, cupping your cheeks as he looks down at you with a frown. “If we are married, Faliene would be run by you and only you. I will sign whatever papers you ask me to, and I will not interfere unless you ask my opinion.”

You blink at him slowly, exhaling sharply out of your nose as you lean into his touch despite the stubborn look across your face. A small part of you is anxious; you have been hesitant and cautious to trust all of your life. What if, like Rumlow, James was trying to fool you into marriage so he could control the seafaring of the continent?

“Are you telling the truth?” Your voice is quiet, nearly lost to the winds. Thankfully, James doesn’t seem insulted by your wariness.

“Of course I am. I know that if Faliene is to flourish, it can only be under your rule, not mine.” James hums, his thumb gently swiping over the skin of your cheek before he pulls away. “Maybe it is best we leave the talk of weddings until after I deal with King Harrison. Deal?”

He offers his hand in the small distance between the two of you. You chew on your lip for a moment, nodding your head as the apprehension in your gut eases. You reach out, grasping his forearm near his elbow. The muscle is bulging and swollen in comparison to your small hands. His fingers wrap around your own forearm, engulfing the clothed skin entirely as you both shake hands on this new agreement.

“Deal.” You mutter back, though you can’t fight back the smile that has formed.

There is a new feeling growing in your gut.

Hope.

—

“Does King James always fuck you with his eyes?” Wanda asked from behind you, her nimble hands expertly washing the soap from your hair. Your strands were lazily dangling over the side of the tub, the water trickling off into the bucket below. Your eyes rolled back into your head, a small huff leaving your lips as you leaned harder against the warm metal.

Once returning from The Fishhook with Steve and Peggy in tow, Wanda managed to sneak you back into your rooms before your presence was requested elsewhere. Tonight there would be one final feast before most of the guests returned home, and it seemed everyone wanted your attention or opinion on the most mundane of subjects. You had been practically assaulted with questions about dining displays and menus, while the Asgardian Princes, Thor and Loki, somehow managed to trick you into showing them the wine cellar.

As if sensing your rising stress levels, Wanda had pulled you away, declaring she needed to help you bathe and dress for the dinner to follow.

“You can act all coy, but we’ve all noticed it. Brannigan is biting at the bit to start organizing a wedding.” Wanda continues, and you groan loudly, slipping deeper into the warm water.

“Do not let him organize anything.” You grumble, and the woman chuckles behind you.

“When you said you knew the Galantian’s well, I didn’t realize it was because you had invited them into your bed–”

“He has not been in my bed.” You protest, sinking even further into the water until it reaches your chin.

“Ah. Matter of time. You can see it on his face that his cock gets hard everytime he looks at you–”

“Wanda.” You cut over her sternly, wrapping your arms across your chest as you turned in the tub to face her with a scowl. The water sloshes around you at your sudden movements, Wanda withdrawing as a small wave departs the tub. “I have already upset King Harrison enough, I can’t upset him more by having rumors spread around.”

“I am sorry.” Wanda sighs, elbows braced against her thighs, as she leans over to look at you. “I am just excited for you.”

You can’t help but let a small smile grace your lips at her words. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, there was always a sincerity and sweetness to Wanda that made you cave. You move forward through the water, your breasts pressed against the metal as you cross your arms over the lip of the tub.

“I am sorry for keeping secrets… It is just that to keep the peace between Haiford and Galanta, we have to be careful.” You mutter softly. Wanda gives you a sympathetic look, ringing out the damp cloth in her hands.

“King Harrison is still expecting Princess Peggy to marry King James?” She asks quietly, abandoning the cloth over the lip of the tub. You press your lips together tightly, watching as Wanda fetches you a dry towel.

“Unfortunately.” You grumble in return, standing. You allow most of the water to cascade off your skin and hair before wrapping yourself in the towel and carefully stepping out of the tub as Wanda readies your dress.

You quickly dry yourself before the cold sets in, scoffing as Wanda speaks up once more from across the room. “He must be blind if he has not seen the way Princess Peggy and Sir Rogers dance around each other.”

“I think I may have accidentally helped Peggy by distracting King Harrison.” You admit sheepishly.

Wanda snorts. “He seems to be looking everywhere but at Princess Peggy. Gods, he spends more time enamored with Lord Rumlow than–”

“What do you mean?” You cut over her abruptly.

Wanda arches a brow at you. “King Harrison and Lord Rumlow, they’re always constantly muttering away in the corner, haven’t you noticed?”

“I have.” You say it with a frown. At least you had noticed it more back in Galanta, but these past two weeks between the funeral, James, and organizing, you had barely had time to play spy. It was harder to notice the small things of court when you were now the center of attention rather than a ghost slinking around on the outside of conversation.

“Maybe King Harrison has grown bored of wives – Maeve says that the two of them remain locked up in King Harrison’s rooms most days and nights. She scarcely has time to clean!” Wanda says as she helps you pull on your dress, a thick, dark material with fur trimmings and silver beading around the waist.

“Does she know what they are doing in there?” You pry cautiously, tugging the sleeves in place and shooing Wanda away as you begin to lace the front.

“No. They always grow quiet when she knocks, and they send her away. The staff are making bets over what date they’ll announce their affair.”

You don’t reply, instead pondering over this newfound information. Wanda begins muttering about the hairstyle she will craft for you tonight. You are barely listening as you sink into the seat in front of your mother's old vanity. With any hope James’ and King Harrison’s chat goes well tonight, you felt a pit of dread growing in your stomach at the thought of what Rumlow might be scheming.

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