#first finnzra fic too

[lunaris-laments]

Finnzra x Hunter - Winter Prompt 20

Request from anon: 20 of the winter prompts with finnzra and (f) reader?

Prompt 20: “I don’t need any presents or a big fancy celebration when I’ve got you.”

It’s still Christmas where I am, sorry for the late upload!! Whether you celebrate it or not, I hope all of you have a great holiday. Some Finnzra x Hunter fluff for all you lovely people :>

Sorry if it’s not explicitly fem reader!! This is also my first time writing a poly relationship so I hope it’s okay uwu

**

Lights of all different hues shone from Ezra’s shop and illuminated the street beyond it, enticing and tempting civilians to peek through the windows to marvel at his decorations. The shop was closed for the day, and the moon hung low in the sky as the last slivers of amber faded within the clouds, coating the buzzing town in darkness. However, spirits were bright in this festive season for all, the usual domestic thrum of the city dampened by bands performing music native to Lunaris and parties that led into the early hours of the morning.

This was no different for Ezra, Finn, and the Hunter. The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but they assumed he had gone to the Catacombs to visit his clan - they may have lived through decades of celebrations, witnessed all kinds of traditions - Finn insisted that he give them well wishes and a good hug.

You knelt on the counter, reaching to the farthest and highest corner of the kitchen to pin up some decorations, sweet little paper figures and animals strung along a glittering ribbon, the other end already pinned to the opposite wall. You felt bad for Ezra when you glanced over to him, such a powerful witch and yet using his magic only to enchant small lanterns which were hung around the shop. Small shimmering flames emerged as he swept his hands over the bulbs, rainbows shifting and reflecting onto his face, painting his russet skin a plethora of beautiful colours and complementing the slight flush on his cheekbones.

His lips pull taut in a dreamy grin when you hop down from the countertop and slide your arms around his waist from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“They look beautiful.” You whisper and plant a kiss on the apple of his cheek. Ezra giggles quietly and turns to face you. “Thank you, love, but you did just as much as me,” he says and gestures to the streamers and strings of decorations fastened to the walls. Your hands bunched up in his sweater, turquoise with lighter accents and the words “Meow-y Christmas” sewn into the front. It was cheesy and punny - exactly what you all loved.

He is about to take a step closer when Coco winds in-between the two of you, mewing and padding at your fuzzy sock-clad feet. She crosses the room and settles underneath the pine tree in the corner; it looks bare compared to the rest of your home. It didn’t matter if you had a religion or even celebrated anything, Ezra begged to have a tree - he just loved having something else to hang colourful ornaments on.

Ezra hauled another worn box of baubles, tinsel, and bulbs onto the table and rummaged through them, handing you some and telling you where to place them. Always the perfectionist; he tutted and rearranged the hand-crafted trinkets until he was satisfied.

You both startled when three distinct knocks came from the hatch in the floorboards. Pulling the carpet aside, Ezra unhooked the latch and you waited for your lover to emerge from the darkness. First you saw his golden eyes, glistening within the shadows, then he pushed the hatch open further to climb up. All sharing grins, he pecked both yours and Ezra’s lips and scrutinised the shop.

“I love you, but you have a tendency to… go a little overboard.” The smile on face as he gazed down at both of you betrays his words, but still, he attempts to sound miffed.

Each grabbing one of his hands, you pulled him into the other room. “We just finished decorating the tree - it looks beautiful, Finnegan, come see…” Without waiting for a response, Ezra tugs him to stand in front of the tree. The tinsel wound through the twigs and baubles hanging from them catch the light of the twinkling bulbs, reflecting in his eyes, a kaleidoscope of colours swirling in his irises.

Only when he turns to you, do you see the sweater that adorns his body. He has the same taste as Ezra - black with the word “Hoe” in bold golden lettering, dotted across his chest. Rolling your eyes, you bite back a smirk and snicker. “Do you both have to wear such tacky sweaters?”

You hear a gasp and turn to see the witch glaring playfully at you.

“Well, excuuuuuuse me.” Although Ezra speaks sternly, he moves towards you to take your hand, dragging you to the sofa with Finn following closely behind.

You’re pushed into the plush cushions and sandwiched between your lovers; the stark contrast of hot and cold, life and death, proves to be oddly comfortable. Finn’s legs swing onto the sofa and cage you in from behind, resting his hands on your stomach and his cheek to your shoulder. His icy breath fans across your neck and you feel his lips curl into a smirk on your skin. Ezra presses his face to your chest, arms around your waist and fingers finding purchase in your clothes. Fangs brush against you when Finn grins, hearing your heartbeat accelerate and feeling warmth crawl from your cheeks to your neck. 

Suddenly, Ezra lifts his head and gapes at you, raising his voice. “I almost forgot about presents!”

Exchanging a sharp look with Finn, you then watch as the witch untangles himself from you, the breeze that replaced presence making you shiver. He crouches and peers under the tree, searching for a moment then pulling out two small boxes, neatly-wrapped with patterned paper. You flush as he hands you one of the presents, kneeling beside the sofa, beaming at you.

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t do gifts this year?” Finn spoke slowly, accepting the present and sitting up slightly. You tug at Ezra’s sweater and lean down to press your lips to his, smiling against him. “Thank you, either way… But however will we repay you?” You ask, playful, mischievous.

Finn eyes him up. “I think we can find a way…” Although he has lived through hundreds of these traditions, he still looks at you with the same excitement and adoration as if it was his first. He clutches the box to his chest and pulls you close, and you know that parties and gifts can never bring the same joy as spending time with his lovers. It was as if he read your mind, and what he says next makes your heart soar.

“Seriously - next year we can just decorate the house and have a few friends round. I don’t need any presents or a big fancy celebration when I’ve got you.”

[raccoonmooon]

the poison, drunk

Dipping my toe into writing! Have a WTNC fic!

Post pledge ending, the hunter does not tell anyone when they leave Lunaris. The hunter's sister (who is a hunter herself) acquires a lingering injury, and decides to take the time off to visit her sibling. Instead she finds a mystery, and a town full of people who's help she will need to solve it. 

categories: angst, hurt / comfort, eventual happy ending, maybe the hunter can have a little redemption arc, as a treat, two hunters, divergence from canon epilogue | pairings: August / F!Hunter, Finnzra, Finnzra / nb!Hunter | fic rating: explicit | content warnings (this chapter):  canon-typical violence | word count: 1,635  |  read on AO3 

Chapter 1/?  | i'll send a storm

chapter summary-  A hunt goes wrong, Finn makes tea badly

...Seven...eight...nine heartbeats and a roll of distant thunder filtered through the trees, closer than she’d prefer. Rowan scanned the forest in front of her, the full, newly risen moon illuminating tall conifers scarred with layers of claw marks. She moved with a renewed confidence in the direction her senses were pulling her.

Keane huffed "That glare might leave demons shakin’ in their boots but it’s not gonna turn the storm." The weatherbeaten old witch was scarred as the trees they were passing through, with glinting eyes under bushy grey brows. "We’re ending this night soaked to the bone no matter how fast we trot."

He kept pace regardless, heavy boots muffled by the thick layer of pine needles and other decaying detritus that made up the forest floor. The air felt just as padded, pregnant with the approaching thunderhead. She ducked under a branch with tufts of cinnabar orange fur stuck in the bark.

"I’d rather finish the job before the clouds steal our moonlight Enforcer. Wasn’t exactly a short hike up here and now we’re in the beast’s territory it’s not likely to give us a night to wait out the weather."

It had, in fact, taken them just over a week to track the creature here from the rustic little town she’d been assigned to the last three years. A harsh winter had drawn it down out of it’s remote stomping grounds and into the range of people. And even with the arrival of spring, now that it knew easier prey was a short flight away, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t come back.

"Eh, least the wind’ll keep it grounded" he growled "An’ how many times have I told you to call me Keane?"

Rowan huffed a laugh in response, letting the discussion rest. For a while the only sounds were increasingly frequent peals of thunder and the susurrus of trees in the storm’s downdraft drowning out their breath and footfalls.

She slowed as they approached a clearing cast in darkening moonlight, and let her hand fall to the handle of her axe as a four-legged figure padded into view. The barbaric semblance of a human face snarled at them out of a thick mane of matted red fur. The over sized body tensed and threw massive leathery wings up into an obvious threat display, while a tail tipped with a chitinous, scorpion-like stinger lashed behind it. The manticore crouched back, sizing the distance and preparing to leap.

Rowan readied her axe, flashing silver in a burst of lightning that briefly threw the clearing into sharp relief. The ground was littered with shredded wood and scattered carcasses in various states of decay, the smell of which failed to entirely drown out the musty scent of the beast itself. Beside her, Keane visibly centered himself and the air took on a biting chill as an icy mist rose in the clearing and his eyes were overtaken by a cold light.

They moved apart swiftly as darting fish, and the creature’s massive bulk landed in the space now between them with an impact she could feel in her teeth. Keane drew its attention with a flashy burst of spiked ice to its face.

"Well this fellow’s scarred as an old tom isn’t he?" the witch laughed as the beast whipped around to face him with a snarl.

He was indeed, the shaggy lion’s pelt marred with dozens of scars, and the heavy wings were ragged at the edges. But Rowan was focused on the tail, which she ducked out of the way to avoid as the creature spun. Segmented red chitin leading to a wickedly curved tip coming down from the bulbous final segment. Both of them had little vials of the anti-venin potion she’d prepared for the trip, but that didn’t guarantee they’d be fast enough to get it down if struck, certainly not without permanent damage. So it remained the manticore’s deadliest feature, and her first task was to remove it.

Keane continued to back away as he threw another volley of ice at the thing. Rowan waited for it to pull back its tail to strike, near parallel with the ground, and brought her axe down between two of the segments as it sprung back up, neatly splitting the top few from the rest and sending them spinning uselessly through the clearing.

The manticore turned back on her with outstretched claws swung wildly in her direction and an earsplitting yowl louder than any cat she’d ever had the misfortune to hear.

She called back to Keane, "About as subtle as a tomcat as well yeah?" It bared leonine teeth at her in an angry hiss, three rows on top and bottom, and prepared for another swing.

Rowan jumped back, rather than to the side, the thick mane would deter a blow to the neck, and its face was the next best option for a clean kill. But rather than the swipe of claws she expected, it took a flying leap over her head, knocking her down with its hind paws, bouncing off the massive pine behind her and flapping some twenty meters up a tree on the other side of the clearing. It clung to the bark with straining claws and the approaching storm whipped its mane around its face as it roared down at them, fully pissed off.

She pulled herself back to her feet, coat flapping around her calves, and unholstered her flintlock pistol, it was out of range no matter how well she aimed.

"Can you do something about that?" she shouted over the wind at Keane.

The witch focused up at the tree and some ways below the yowling beast, a pale mist settled around the bark. After a few moments there was a great cracking sound, loud as a gunshot, and that part of the tree shattered, the top half with the manticore on it tilted towards them, seemingly in slow motion.

"TIMBER!" Keane shouted, darting farther away from the falling tree, Rowan ran backwards in the opposite direction, trying to keep her eyes on the manticore, trapped by the falling branches. Her boot hit something that crunched and she felt a sharp pain in her calf, she looked down horrified to see the manticore’s envenomed stinger at her feet. Fuck.

She needed to take the antivenom now but the tree crashed to the ground between her and Keane, and five hundred kilos of manticore began flailing to try and free itself from the branches pressing it to the ground. There wasn’t time. Rowan leapt forward, running along a thick branch to the trunk where she could get a good look at the beast, it saw her approach and let out a final unnatural yowl that abruptly cut off with the crack of her pistol.

The manticore went limp just as Rowan’s leg gave out, she landed tangled in branches and pulled the little vial from the leather pouch at her waist. She could hear Keane calling for her as she ripped the stopper out with her teeth. She downed the bitter, red liquid in one mouthful, and things started to get a bit blurry as the sky finally opened up, instantly drenching her.

OOO

Far away, moonlight poured through a kitchen window as Finnegan Kazimir struggled to make a cup of tea. Which one was it he’d seen Ezra reach for after a hard day in the shop? The blue and yellow tin that smelt of mint and earth? Finn was unsure, he didn’t often pay attention to such things when Ezra was in the room. The kettle screamed, and decision made he pulled down the tin and yanked the horrible thing off the heat.

Sitting at the little wooden table he watched what should have been the cheery gold of the tea, warp to a sickly yellow in the shadowed light, spreading in tendrils through clear water like poison through-

Finn shut his eyes and thought of the bright life of his love upstairs, warm, safe, close, and too distracted by fresh grief to make himself the cup of tea darting thoughts told Finn he wanted. He settled and let each moment pass as the tea steeped, time would fix this, settle wounds into scars that could be ignored like a scrap of purple fabric in a box.

OOO

Ezra stared up into the rain pounding on the window and felt cold imagining where Maro might be. He wanted to run out into the night and find them, bring them home and find a way to undo the curse they’d drunk down like it was the only option. But there wasn’t a way to undo it, there was nothing he or Finn could do, and their love was going to die alone in the cold after everything they’d fallen in love with had been stripped away. He shivered.

The creak of the bedroom door drew him out of his thoughts and he watched Finn approach the bed with distant golden eyes and a cup of tea steaming in his hands. Ezra found a smile for his love.

"You didn’t have to do that" he said.

The vampire crawled into bed beside him and slid the cup into his hands, wrapping his own tea warmed palms around Ezra’s and holding them against the gentle heat as he leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead in lieu of a response.

They settled against each other and Ezra took a sip of the tea, a lovely calming blend with strong notes of peppermint and chamomile, drowned out by far, far too much honey, even for him, with unstrained leaves swirling about. He tucked a more genuine smile into Finn’s neck "It’s perfect, thank you." They curled closer together and listened to the rain.

[raccoonmooon]

the poison, drunk

Post pledge ending, the hunter does not tell anyone when they leave Lunaris.

The hunter's sister (who is a hunter herself) acquires a lingering injury, and decides to take the time off to visit her sibling.

Instead she finds a mystery, and a town full of people who's help she will need to solve it.

categories: angst, hurt / comfort, eventual happy ending, maybe the hunter can have a little redemption arc, as a treat, two hunters, divergence from canon epilogue | pairings: August / F!Hunter, Finnzra, Finnzra / nb!Hunter | fic rating: explicit | content warnings (this chapter): mild body horror | word count: 3,343 |  read on AO3

Chapter 2/? | and I come back changed

chapter summary-   Rowan leaves for Lunaris, Maro leaves Lunaris

Rowan woke to the sound of rain pattering on a tent, she sat up suddenly and immediately regretted it, a wave of vertigo and nausea overtaking her. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and there was a persistent, pounding ache in her left leg, she wasn’t sure she could feel her toes.

“Are you up Velle?” Keane’s gruff voice called “Come out here and have some stew!”

She groaned and flipped onto her knees to crawl out of the little tent, and hissed at the sharp pain when she bumped her left foot on the ground. Keane was sitting next to a cheery little fire, stirring a pot of what smelled like rabbit and not much else. He was maintaining a thin magical barrier several meters above the fire, keeping the rain at bay. The smoke twisted into strange shapes against the invisible surface before flowing up and around it.

“How long have I been asleep?” she managed to croak out.

He handed her a skin of water which she graciously gulped down, and replied “Day an’ a half. Lucky your boot leather kept you from takin’ more than a scratch from the thing or you might not be wakin’ up at all.”

She sat on an overturned log next to the fire. “Did you-”

“Aye, I remembered to bring the damn thing, keepin’ it cool but not frozen as you said.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding “Thank you.” he nodded and went back to stirring the stew.

It certainly wasn’t the impetus for the hunt, but she had planned on collecting the manticore’s stinger to use both as a component for antivenom on future hunts, and a way to learn more about the creatures. They were rare in this part of the world, meant for sand dunes and desert nights, and the demonologist in her had relished the idea of learning more. Hells.

Now it seemed she’d be needing it all for antivenin potions if she wanted to keep her leg. Very little was needed for each dose, but she wondered how long her new supply would last. And of course, it could only prevent further damage, it wouldn’t heal what had already been done, or permanently neutralize the venom, which was as magical in nature as the creature that had provided it.

She needed to have it seen by a witch, but Keane was the only game in town on that front, and healing wasn’t his forte. Hadn’t Maro’s letters mentioned-

Keane passed her a tin camp mug full of rabbit stew, breaking her from the spiraling reverie.

“Eat up. Think you can walk on that?” He nodded at her leg.

She grimaced “I don’t think so Enforcer.”

He nodded again and slurped his stew.

Once he’d finished eating he trundled off into the woods to look for “A half decent walkin’ stick” and left her with the crackling fire and her thoughts for company.

OOO

The hike back to town took nearly twice as long as the journey out. And Rowan was relieved when they finally stepped out of the trees and onto the little dirt road. It wound through the farmland that surrounded and supported the remote little village of Enk. Puddles had pooled in the wagon ruts after the recent rains and pale spring grass was coming up on the sides of the road.

Rowan now walked with a sturdy stick taking the weight of every other step, a dull ache remained in her left foot, and while the sharp pain of jostling it had lessened, it was now swollen and stiff. She had managed to ration out the remaining pre-prepared doses for the rest of the trip, and would be able to make more as soon as she had access to the headquarter’s alchemy equipment.

Not that theirs was the best equipped headquarters in Eskria, the village too small to support a large presence from the corp’. It was just herself, Keane, one lower ranking enforcer, and two other hunters. All working out of a sturdy wooden building that was only just as large as it needed to be.

This place had been exactly what she’d needed on her arrival three years ago, drowning in grief. The slower pace and bright, wide open meadows had given her misery space to flow away from her, making it easier to keep her head above water. But recently she had begun to relish the thought of another reassignment, a chance to make more use of everything she’d learned in all the extra time she’d had to study here.

They trudged into the sleepy village center around midday, the tavern owner Rosie was one of the few people around. She looked up from her herb garden to wink at Rowan. She was short and curvy, with unruly golden hair piled in a bun, and pink freckled cheeks. She’d become fast friends with the shrewd and mischievous woman, and had shared a bed with her on occasion. But neither had been interested in more, so it had comfortably been left at that.

Rowan smiled back at her as Keane clapped her on the shoulder.

“Rest up, make your potion, meet me back with your report tomorrow, and we’ll discuss what’s next, eh?”

She nodded and they went their separate ways.

OOO

The next day Rowan stepped out of the crisp morning air into her enforcer’s office, the quarterstaff she’d found to replace the rough walking stick made hollow thunks on the dusty wooden floor as he waved her in. She balanced her report on his overflowing desk and sat.

He leaned back in his chair “Got your potion made?”

“Enough to last several weeks, it takes up more space fully prepared, so I’ve left the remaining venom in an enchanted jar to keep it cool and reasonably compact until I’m ready to make more.”

“Good, now General, you’re officially on leave until that leg is back in workin’ order. I’ve done what I can, but for a manticore sting you need to get yourself to a proper healer, there’s a fellow in Lenfield-”

She cut him off “Enforcer, I was wondering if I might try Lunaris? It’s a week closer than Lenfield and my sibling mentioned in their letters they’ve got a top rate healer there.”

Keane eyed her for a moment from under from under his bushy brows before breaking into the grandfatherly smile he so rarely granted “Oh off you go then, get in a visit with young Maro while you’ve got the chance.”

Rowan let herself smile back, she had only seen Maro once in the nine years since she’d graduated, and despite their frequent correspondence she missed her younger sibling dearly. She had been pleasantly surprised at the contents of the most recent letters, they seemed to be doing well in Lunaris. There hadn’t been a new one waiting when she’d returned from the hunt, but that wasn’t so unusual, and now she’d be able to catch up in person.

“There was one other thing I wanted to discuss ‘fore you head out, I know you’ve been itchin’ to leave this town for months now and-”

She opened her mouth to disagree and he laughed “I’m old, not blind Velle! You’re goin’ stir-crazy out here between hunts and frankly it’s a waste a talent.”

He continued “I was planning to have you reassigned somewhere a bit busier when that new recruit we’re slated for finally shows up, but now you’ve got a week long ride anyways no point making you come all the way back afterwards only to turn on your heel again in another direction. I’ll be in touch with the headquarters in Lunaris and have them pass on your new assignment when you’re all healed up.”

Rowan stood up, leaning heavily on the quarterstaff “It’s been an honor to work with you Enforcer Keane.”

“Likewise.” Keane sighed “I’ll miss you Velle, heal well and good luck.”

A few hours later she’d packed her things, said her goodbyes, and with her horse in high spirits after nearly a month with nothing to do, was on the road to Lunaris.

OOO

Maro paced. And paced. Their room above The Wolf felt smaller and smaller with every pivot. Tightening like their skin. Something was crawling under their skin. Or was that their skin? Doing the crawling? It seemed like things were crawling in the shadows of the once familiar room as well.

There were new shadows in their mind. Shadows that spoke. Not a great sign, that. Plugging their ears didn’t help. With the shadows or with every clink and mutter and laugh and buzzing insect in and around the tavern.

They lurched to a stop as another wave of nausea overcame them. Gripping the bedpost like a lifeline. They could smell everything in the tavern as well. Cooked meat and human sweat and rarely cleaned bathrooms and-

The bedpost gave out and they fell, splintered wood in their hands. Their hands didn’t feel like their hands. Yes, still long-fingered and scarred. But reaching for things Maro did not want. Holding too hard to things that shouldn’t matter. Letting go of things that did. Crawling.

They held a breath in. And released it slowly. As Finn had had them do to quell their panic after that first encounter with the creature. The creature they were going to-

No. Breathe. In, cool hands light on their shoulders, calm voice counting. Out, their face pressed into a warm shoulder that smelled of vanilla. In. Out.

They felt guilty, using those memories to calm themself. Maro had betrayed their partners after all. The word partner implied a sharing of the load, a willingness to help and allow yourself to be helped. And Maro had tried, they had even surprised themself with how much they’d shared so soon. But when it had really mattered, they hadn’t been able to listen, to let go of the weight.

Maybe their hands were their own.

Maro stood on wobbly legs. They’d broken their relationship surely as they’d done the bedpost. They couldn’t fix that, couldn’t undo the damage already done. But maybe now they had a chance to prevent more.