#while he shoots an arrow through their throat

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Tfw a scene hits you with such force and clarity, it's absolutely like a religious vision

When Astarion gets up in the middle of the night to handle the twins so they will be quiet and let Mercy sleep, Mercy sneaks off to the undercity ruins. Theyre gone for hours hunting any Bhaalists who are trying to maintain the ruins, slaughtering the Bhaalists, and then going to the altar to yell directly at Bhaal, only to be met with silence. Mercy screaming that he couldn't take anything else from them. They'd make damn sure of it. Just never saying "You took everything you wanted from me, but you cannot have the twins." And it's a threat. One that isn't answered.

Then returning to a fretting Astarion (bc they're both still unlearning their codependency)

[bumblesimagines]

Common Interests

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Colonel Miles Quaritch never expected to be revived into the body of the very thing he went to war against but he adapted. Now, he can't fully understand if his new brain is making him imagine things.. like an attraction to one of the locals.

Pronouns: He/Him/His

CW/TW: Typical Avatar warnings, age gap (Quaritch's conscience is much older than (Y/N) but his body is much younger so), they match each other's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public, Quaritch is probably a lil ooc, sexual content toward the end

~~~

A heavy sense of deja vu washed over Miles as he took in the module, now worn down from time and taken over by the forest's flora. He died, and while he had no memory of the day, the reminder settled over his shoulders like a weight.

It was hard to look away from the battle sight, too overgrown with lush plant life to hold any signs of a fight apart from the module and the AMP suit containing his bones. It chilled him when he first laid eyes on the remains of his human body, on the arrows piercing through where his chest had been. 

Looking at it now filled him with anger and the delicious heat of revenge. Killing Jake Sully would be an eye for an eye, in his opinion. It wasn't his problem Jake had disposed of his human body.

"This.. 'friend' of yours," Miles cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the AMP suit to eye the feral child, his feral child by all means. Spider glanced at him. "Any idea when, or if, he'll show up?" There's a bite to his words. Patience wasn't one of his virtues.

Spider only swallowed and turned his back to him, the blue stripes painted along his arms humorous if not pitying. He was beginning to believe this 'friend' was a ruse, some lie conjured up in hopes that the Sullys would take notice and fly to his rescue. The tension in the air amongst his squad members told him they thought similarly, and the last thing Miles wanted was getting further on General Ardmore's bad side. His stunt with the scientists had left a notable bad taste in her mouth.

His head tilted curiously when Spider took a deep inhale, half-expecting a scream for help to leave his short body, but instead, Spider made a call of sorts. It sounded odd, likely due to his vocal cords being unlike a Na'vi's but it echoed through the forest nonetheless. Everyone held their breaths, ears twitching and flicking wildly as they examined the gigantic branches stretched out all around them. Miles waited, his muscles tense. A distant call echoed back and the clanking of soldiers grabbing their guns followed.

Spider's hands shot up, his eyes flying wide open in panic. It almost tugged on Miles's heartstrings. "Don't shoot him! I told you- he isn't with the Omatikaya!"

"You never told us why," Wainfleet mentioned stiffly, his hold on his assault rifle unrelenting. "He could be a cannibal for all we know."

"He's not- What?" Spider made a face, his blonde eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. Wainfleet shrugged. "He's not a cannibal. He was exiled for- for-" Spider swallowed again, nervous this time and even a little sheepish. "For making an attempt on Jake's life." 

Now that had Miles's attention, and his body reacted accordingly. His ears perked and twitched forward with interest and a throaty chuckle vibrated in his throat. "Is that so?" One of his canines dug lightly into his lip, half-eager and half-amused. Of course, his kid would befriend someone banished for attempted murder. 

A feeling of being watched suddenly bore into his back and he whipped around, one hand grabbing his rifle but the sharp inhale from Spider made him hesitant to raise it. His eyes studied the surrounding treeline, more adept and better than his human eyes but the Na'vi of the forest were raised to stalk their prey without being seen. An excited chill jittered up his spine. 

A little too late for his liking, Miles caught sight of the figure before a blur of blue jumped down into the small clearing, landing on the ground with a soft thump no human ears would've picked up. The soldiers whirled around and bristled at the sight of the unfamiliar Na'vi as he slowly rose from his hunches, those almost cat-like eyes studying them intently.

"(Y/N)!" Spider shouted, the relief in his voice immense.

(Y/N)'s ear twitched at the sound of his voice and before anyone could blink, Spider ducked past Miles and straight for him. There were shouts, ones that Miles silenced with a raised hand, and the soldiers reluctantly grew still. Spider essentially threw himself at the Na'vi, though his small human weight barely even swayed him. (Y/N)'s tail coiled. 

"Vrrtep 'eveng." He murmured, his hand comically large when he placed it over Spider's shoulder. Miles felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest watching Spider press his mask as close as possible into (Y/N)'s abdomen, seeking comfort and reminding him of just how young he still was. (Y/N)'s fingers pressed into his shoulder blades and then promptly tugged Spider away, his face neutral.

It only then registered what he'd called Spider. Demon child.

Miles found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his kid. "He speak English?"

Spider's mouth opened to respond but Miles caught the irritated tail swish and found his question answered. "He can." (Y/N)'s voice was accented, similar to the accent of Sully's wife, but it somehow sounded more pleasing coming from him. Perhaps the history between Miles and the Sullys ran too bitter for him to see any beauty in the family. (Y/N)'s eyes dropped back to Spider. "You are with dreamwalkers. Why?"

Before Spider could answer, or potentially plead to be saved and ruin everything, Miles took a step forward and lifted his hands away from his weapons. "I have an understandin' you and Jake Sully, the man your people call 'Toruk Makto', are at odds." (Y/N) stared at him. Right, right, human phrases and sayings weren't at the top of the school's list of things to teach the Na'vi. "You don't like him."

(Y/N)'s lip curled upward into a smirk, and the fact he looked unbothered by all the weapons pointed at him made Miles like him already.

"JakeSully is a vrrtep, a demon amongst the People. A false idol." (Y/N)'s features hardened then, ears pinned back and everything. Spider suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He stole everything from my brother. Tsu'tey should have been Olo'eyktan. Neytiri was meant to be his mate. JakeSully took it all from him, and then killed him. Him being Toruk Makto means little to me. He is.. vermin."

"You're preachin' to the goddamn choir, kid." That little furrowed brow look appeared on his face again but Miles continued. He could feel his canines pressing into his lip from how wide he grinned. "Jake Sully is a vermin, but he's a vermin I mean to kill." 

(Y/N)'s tail raised and coiled slightly so Miles interpreted it as a sign of interest. He took a moment to study the Na'vi standing before him, the Na'vi his son seemed to prefer over him. Miles couldn't blame him; he'd be apprehensive after all the shit the scientists put him through too.

Like all other Na'vi, (Y/N) was tall and lithe and sported as little clothing as possible which Miles tried not to focus on too hard. There was a scar along his forearm a paler blue than his skin but it appeared to be in the process of fading. A wound from the war, Miles assumed. His eyes captivated him the most though. 

His eyes were pretty, but his stare was intense—not intense in the angry or aggravated way of the Sullys or even Spiders, but in a predatory way. He watched them like a lion would a herd of gazelles when contemplating whether to leave them alone or go on the prowl. His stare was confident and calm while simultaneously intimidating, filling Miles with a thrill.

"We need to become more like the Na'vi, like you, in order to locate and terminate Jake Sully." 

Spider glanced up at (Y/N), his hands twitching as if he wanted to toss his arms around him again. "He means becoming an ikran rider." 

(Y/N) blinked at that and for the first time, he looked utterly bewildered. "You are not ready."

"Kid," Miles lightly scoffed and exchanged glances with the rest of his squad. "We're soldiers- warriors, if you will. We're more than ready for anythin'." 

"We were born ready." Wainfleet asserted cockily, a light pleased chuckle rumbling in his throat, but (Y/N) remained unconvinced. 

He stepped forward toward Miles in a long stride, and the air, which had been lightening up, tensed again. Z-Dog shuffled forward, nearly pushing her rifle close to his face, but he merely hissed at her, all canines and briefly flattened ears. It was a simple warning, based on how swiftly his features relaxed afterward.

"Leave him." Miles barked and she begrudgingly backed off.

Being in an avatar body gave him the advantage of equal footing with the Na'vi, and his self-assurance showed when he allowed (Y/N) to draw closer. (Y/N) eyed him from head to toe, his stare scrutinizing. To Miles's surprise, (Y/N) took his hand in his and studied it, lightly pinching the finger his own hand lacked. His touch was equally surprising: gentle, mindful, almost cautious. He hummed softly and trailed his attention upward until it stopped on the ink covering his bicep, tracing the outline of the bird with his eyes.

"It's an eagle-" 

(Y/N) dropped his hand, uninterested. "It is ugly."

Miles stared at him in surprise and felt some heat lick up his neck when his ears caught the stifled snickers behind him from his squad. He shot them a withering glare and they quickly silenced themselves, even straightening up and adjusting their hold on their weapons. Fuckin' Morons.

(Y/N) circled him, his eyes raking all over his body and lingering on his rifle when he appeared at Miles's other side. His curiosity was understandable; Miles often wondered what other differences there were between the natives and avatars besides the obvious. His hand reached behind Miles and carefully took his braid into his hand, the feeling alone sending a jolt up his spine.

He'd received an obligatory lesson on his avatar body, its limits and functions, all that jazz. He was beginning to think that maybe he should've paid closer attention to the parts he deemed useless for the mission. He'd probably know why his body was reacting so strongly to a mere touch. 

"You have kurus, you may perform tsaheylu." (Y/N) dragged his palm along the braid, the sensation making the air catch in Miles's throat though it seemingly went unnoticed. It was an odd sensation, one he couldn't describe. It sent shivers dancing along his spine and made his lungs struggle to breathe. (Y/N) stopped at the bottom and raised it so the others could see the wriggling tendrils. "You will need tsaheylu to bond with an ikran." 

"What's it like? This, uh, tsahehu shit."

(Y/N) glared at Wainfleet and Miles tugged his braid free, air finally flowing into his lungs with ease. "Tsaheylu is a bond. You will feel the ikran.. you will feel each beat from its heart, every breath it takes, every emotion it feels, any pain it endures.. and it will feel you, too. Once tsaheylu is established, the ikran will be bonded with you until death." 

The information settled over the squad and Miles gave a thoughtful hum, his fingertips lightly scratching his chin and eyes dragging down to (Y/N)'s 'kuru'. His hand raised to grasp it, curious to see how it'd affect the Na'vi, but (Y/N) snatched his wrist and held it hard in his hand before it could inch any closer to his braid. Miles's jaw clenched with a flare of irritation. 

"Tsaheylu is only performed in adulthood when you choose the person you wish to be mated for life with. It is serious. It is the strongest bond you will ever have with another." (Y/N) squeezed his wrist and narrowed his eyes. "Kurus are not toys."

"You mind lettin' me go, kid?" His teeth bared until his wrist was released from his tight grip and his nostrils flared with a sharp inhale. "Let me make myself very clear here, (Y/N). You and I, we fought on opposite sides of the same damn war. We may have a common enemy but you and I sure as shit ain't friends. We need a Na'vi, a real Na'vi, and you are as real as it gets. I respect your loyalty to your brother and what you tried doin' in his honor but I am Colonel Quaritch. You will treat me with some goddamn respect, understood?"

(Y/N) leaned in despite the already close distance between their faces, their noses just a hair away from brushing. The intensity in his eyes heightened, not a speck of fear in them or a tremble in his body. Most would have had wobbly knees from his tone alone. Miles's eyes unwillingly lowered to the constellation of lightly glowing white freckles scattered across his face and found himself startled when he considered the beauty of his features. 

That wasn't right.

Na'vi were strange, alien creatures who he typically found unattractive in every aspect but their admirable courage. He supposed becoming an avatar and living in a body that largely resembled them flipped a switch in his head, made him unconsciously reconsider how he saw them.

(Y/N)'s flat nose, round eyes, pierced ears, striped markings, and sharp canines no longer looked unnatural. It made him uncomfortable to realize but he was too stubborn to lean back or look away from him. He was a Colonel, goddamnit.

"You are vrrtep, too, like JakeSully. Your existence-" (Y/N) cocked his head to the side, his breath hot on Miles's face. "-disgusts me." 

(Y/N) leaned back, his chin slightly tucked and his unblinking stare challenging, silently encouraging Miles to test him. Miles felt tempted to; he wanted to strangle him or slam his knuckles into his nose, something, anything, just to put the fear of god in him and finally feel an ounce of respect from him.. another part wanted to squeeze his flesh and learn how he tasted. Miles hadn't expected the latter, and it made him worry for his sanity. Had it really been that long since he last gotten laid?

"You've got some balls on you, kid." He finally managed. 

(Y/N)'s hairless brows twitched downward, confused again. It was startling how easily he switched from murderous and eager to fight to then having innocent puzzlement over common human phrases. His mouth formed a frown and his eyes flickered to Spider questioningly, his tail flickering from side to side like a whip.

Spider sighed heavily, obviously discontent with the newfound alliance, however unstable it was. "It means he thinks you're brave."

(Y/N) hummed and looked the slightest bit satisfied, the corners of his mouth twitching up before it smoothed back out into a neutral expression. His shoulders straightened and he roamed his eyes over the rest of the squad, his eyes flickering around to study each of them and their bodies.

"Come then, we will see what Ewya thinks of your desire to ride her ikrans." 

When the opinionated and often grating Dr. Augustine was still around running her little avatar program, Miles paid little mind to her discoveries on Na'vi culture. His job was training each soldier that came to Pandora and ensuring they had a fighting chance when they ventured past the walls of Hell's Gate, not keeping up with sleep-deprived, yapping little scientists who more often got in the way. Now.. well, as much as he hated admitting it, maybe he should've done some more research on what going full Na'vi would entail. 

"You're fucking with us." Z-Dog breathed, uttering the words on everyone's minds as they stared up at the floating islands that made up part of the Hallelujah Mountains. The small clusters of rock and foliage floated above them, connected by roots and vines that extended up and through the clouds. "We're going up there.. on foot?"

(Y/N) grinned, his canines gleaming in the sunlight as Spider snickered under his breath. "You are climbing. Spider will lead the way."

Z-Dog scoffed. "And what the hell are you going to do?"

"Fly." 

Tilting his head toward the skies, (Y/N) made two distinctive calls, stronger and smoother than the call Spider had made but with a harder click of his tongue. The familiar shriek of an ikran responded and the squad took tentative steps back when the winged beast appeared through the clouds. It landed before them and gave its long body a hard shake, little chirps coming from her parted jaws.

"Do not look her in the eye. She will take it as a challenge." (Y/N) instructed with amusement, his palm gently running along her long neck. A soft noise rumbled in her chest and her four golden eyes fluttered shut. "Her name is Tìlor. We flew into battle together against the sawtute years ago."

Tìlor was a pretty girl. A mix of lavender and aqua-blue collided along her leathery body with navy blue markings covering her from snout to tail. The talons at the end of each dragonfly-like wing tapped gently against the ground, helping her move as she shifted around to peer up into the skies.

(Y/N)'s hand moved to carefully grasp one of the kurus protruding from her temples, moving it so he could connect his own with hers. Her body shivered and her pupils dilated briefly before her head affectionately bumped into his abdomen. 

"I will meet you on Mons Veritatis." He told them as he climbed onto the saddle fastened to her back. His grin sharpened into something cruel when he looked at them. "A fall from this height will kill you. Mind your step." 

 Tìlor swiftly took off into the sky with a shriek, her movements swift and graceful as they circled the main roots attached to the ground that led to the first floating rock before they disappeared beyond the clouds. Spider moved quickly, effortlessly climbing onto the roots and walking up without hesitance. 

"C'mon." Miles huffed, adjusting his rifle so it rested along his back and setting his boot over the root to test its sturdiness. It was long and thicker than his body but the bottom of his shoe slipped on the moss. He sighed and reached down to undo the laces of his boots. "We can't let some Na'vi outshine us, can we?"

The climb to Mons Veritatis was treacherous. Each time he looked up, more floating islands appeared above them, more spread out and dangerous than the last. Spider climbed as if he'd done the journey a million times before, even leaping from island to island and swinging from vines as if he were only a few feet from the ground and not climbing through clouds. His arms burned and ached like hell by the time they reached the mountain the ikrans called home, his blue skin shining with sweat and air leaving him in small huffs. 

Spider barely looked out of breath. 

He led them to the rookery, a cliff along the side of the mountain covered in thick vegetation with untamed ikrans scattered across the surface in an ocean of vibrant colors. Ikrans shrieked and growled at the sight of them, and those closest to where they walked shuffled away or flew off to settle somewhere else. Tìlor landed beside them and snapped at a nearby ikran, a youngling that darted into the sky in fright.

(Y/N) hopped off her back and reached out to grab the muzzle of the tranquilizer gun Wainfleet tried setting up. "You wish to be like Na'vi, you will do this like Na'vi. JakeSully's children have completed iknimaya with no weapons. You are adults." He effortlessly tugged the gun from Wainfleet's hands, his tail flicking with a hint of annoyance. His gaze turned toward Miles and the corner of his mouth raised mockingly. "Unless you are afraid, vrrtep." 

Miles's jaw twitched and he inhaled slowly through his nose. He was playing right into (Y/N)'s game and he knew it but his pride refused to let him be so openly mocked. "Alright," He rose from his hunches to be at eye level with him and he slipped his rifle free from his back to hand it over to Mansk. "How is this done, tough guy?"

"You do not choose an ikran, an ikran chooses you." His eyes suddenly brightened and his tail wiggled with a barely contained thrill, his sharp little canines digging into his bottom lip. He looked positively excited, in an almost deranged way. "It will try to kill you." 

Miles smirked, a laugh rumbling in the back of his throat. "Now, ain't that somethin'."

Bridgehead City's nothing compared to the forest encircling it that the machines slowly chip away at. All metal and concrete instead of soft dirt and towering trees, clanging and whirring of machines instead of soft calls and branches rustling, cold AC air blasting inside the buildings instead of the warm air outside. 

(Y/N) obtained a permanent nose crinkle the moment the chopper landed, and he hardly seemed impressed at the fact he had to breathe from a mask every few minutes when they finally escaped the machines working outside. His ears twitched in every direction and his eyes narrowed at every stare he received from stunned or petrified workers.

If he sported the outfit the Recoms wore instead of the beaded jewelry and little loincloth of the clans, he may have passed for one of them, but Miles figured he'd refuse to even put socks on; it took ages to convince him to visit Bridgehead, to begin with. His tail whipped irritability and Miles hoped Spider's quiet explanations of everything kept his temper in check. 

"Pull up the footage we've got on Jake Sully's attacks," Miles ordered, his hands coming to rest on his hips. He waited a moment for the footage to be projected but everyone in the room was frozen still. Nobody moved, nobody even breathed. What a bunch of pansies. "Am I talkin' to my-damn-self?" 

The nearest person to the control panel quickly reached over and tapped on the smooth panel that lit up briefly at her touch before she shrunk back into her chair as projections of the footage appeared. (Y/N) stepped forward, eyeing the technology curiously as he took a sip of air from his mask. 

"Jake Sully's attacks are well-coordinated," Miles admitted somewhat reluctantly, watching choppers explode from missiles shot by stolen weapons and the muted cries of soldiers struck by arrows longer than their bodies.

(Y/N) propped his leg up on an empty chair, the action so casual he could've been mistaken for a cocky Recom. Miles's eyes naturally drifted back to him and he felt his lip quirk. The Na'vi seemed to have an instinct to perch on things, something Spider picked up like a habit. The teen mimicked (Y/N) and crossed his arms over his chest, though he looked like he hardly cared for the footage.

"He was sawtute before he was uniltìrantokx. He claimed to be a warrior and he wielded your weapons effortlessly during the Battle of Ayram Alusìng." (Y/N) craned his head over his shoulder to look at him. "This does not surprise me." 

"The Na'vi fight-" 

"What the hell is this, Colonel?" 

General Ardmore's voice vibrated through the room, sharp and tense and dripping with controlled fury. Those in the room familiar with her stiffened immediately, more tense than they were when (Y/N) entered the room. Her bright blue eyes flickered wildly between the Na'vi and Miles, disbelief on her face first before the irritation returned in the form of a scowl.

"This is (Y/N)." Miles drawled casually, knowing it'd grate on her nerves. He still had to wrap his head around no longer being the top dog around the base. "He's an Omatikaya exile; he nearly killed Jake Sully." 

"So, you thought you'd just bring your new pet here to Bridgehead?" General Ardmore laughed humorlessly, her jaw visibly clenching. (Y/N) stared at her blankly, his tail twitching once with disinterest before he returned his attention to the projections. "Colonel-"

"We fought the Na'vi blindly once and lost because Jake Sully knew our ways. We need someone who knows how Sully and his wife work, how they think and act as Na'vi." Miles explained, his boots thumping against the floor until his body was between (Y/N) and the other humans with holstered weapons. "He's already proven useful, General."

"We aren't here to make friends, Colonel." General Ardmore spoke through near-gritted teeth, her eyes briefly fluttering shut in exasperation. "You know our new objective." 

"He's useful to our current objective, General. He's been trained to fight by the Na'vi since he was a kid and he despises Jake Sully. Trust me on this one, I know what I'm doin'." 

General Ardmore remained silent for a long while, her nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed into slits. Her chest rose with a deep inhale and she gave a firm nod, her eyes alone threatening him before she turned her back to him. "If he becomes a problem, you will neutralize him."

"Understood." 

(Y/N)'s curiosity of Bridgehead was limited. He seemed more disturbed than intrigued as they ventured down brightly lit halls and bustling rooms, disgusted grunts leaving him when the smell of perfume or cologne wafted through the air. His face alternated between scrunched up and blank but his tail moved by its own accord. More than once, Miles felt it tap along his leg or begin to curl around it before it jerked away. Eventually, it curled around Spider's arm and Miles realized he'd been seeking something to comfort him. 

It was sobering. All his memories of the Na'vi were violent: the consistent attacks on their machinery and soldiers throughout his years on the planet, Jake and Dr. Augustine's betrayal, the war against them where human numbers dropped considerably, his gruesome death at the hands of Neytiri. (Y/N) was feral, untamed and unpredictable, but the flickers of a caring side and the confusion over phrases reminded him he wasn't a mindless creature set on making his life more taxing.

Miles was beginning to loathe him. There was nothing more he despised than being conflicted over someone. He always knew what he wanted.

"You and I need to have a chat, kid," Miles said, his fist tapping against one of the panels by one of the wide doors leading into the sector specifically designed for the Recoms and their towering bodies. The doors slid open with a low hiss and he glanced over his shoulder at Spider. "Alone." 

"But-" 

"Fike and Z-Dog here will keep you company." 

With one last grin, he stepped through the doors and nodded for (Y/N) to follow. He did, albeit begrudgingly, and raised his ears when the doors slid shut and a soft whir turned on to replace the air with one they could breathe without help from the masks.

The second set of doors opened once done and Miles led him through the recreation room. From the chairs to the tables to the gym equipment on the far side of the room, everything had been specifically designed for them and easily dwarfed anything human-sized. 

(Y/N) still looked unimpressed. He was likely used to the vibrancy of the forest, the bright colors and open space that felt neverending. Bridgehead was dull in comparison, lifeless it if weren't for the residents adding splashing of color to it with their appearances. Miles wondered how long it'd take for him to adapt, if he could at all.

He stopped briefly in front of another set of automatic doors that slid open to reveal his room and entered, waiting for (Y/N) to step inside before tapping on the pad to lock the doors. His room was nothing to ogle at. Plain white walls, plain gray floors, a neatly made bed avatar-sized pressed against the wall, a metal nightstand with a forgotten cup of coffee, a desk with a tablet and lamp, a closet built into the wall. It wasn't much but it was home, and he had it all to himself unlike some of his soldiers who had to share bunks. 

"You.. live here?" (Y/N)'s lips curled when he nodded. "My cave is more welcoming than this. This is... sad."

Miles chuckled under his breath, lightly scratching his temple before he approached his desk to pick up the tablet. "We will begin our search for Jake Sully and his family in soon. He's gone beyond the forest, possibly to the islands across the eastern sea. What clans live out there?" His fingers tapped on the screen, searching the data of the closest whaling vessels that could help them narrow down their search. 

"The Tayrangi, Ta'unui, and Metkayina clans live throughout the eastern sea." There was the sound of springs softly creaking and he raised his head to find (Y/N) lying on his bed, chin propped over his arms and tail raised high in the air. He blinked at him, his eyes trailing over the stripes along his back until they stopped over the curve of his ass. "The Tayrangi live on the mainland but fish in the seas. They are too close. JakeSully would have gone further." 

"Right." His voice sounded strained. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

"The Ta'unui and Metkayina clans live on the reefs." (Y/N)'s eyes gravitated toward him, his ears raising and twitching. Miles swore his lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Far, far from here. You will have to learn how to ride better if you wish to fly across the sea. You risk much without experience."

"Well, ain't it good you're here, then?" Miles set the tablet aside, his original task forgotten in favor of approaching the bed with slow steps. (Y/N) watched him and lowered his tail until it thumped softly over the mattress. "I'm afraid we can't keep headin' out to the forest whenever we need 'cha, kid. You're hard to find, hard to track. Until we head out to find Jake Sully, you'll have to stay here in Bridgehead."

(Y/N) moved onto his knees, his eyes narrowing and ears pressing back tight against his skull. "No." 

"I wasn't askin'." 

(Y/N)'s tail moved like a whip, quick and hard. It slammed into the ceramic coffee cup and sent it flying into the wall where it shattered into pieces, the leftover coffee adding a brown stain to the wall as it dripped down onto the floor. His tail grew still afterward and his head cocked to the side challengingly again. Miles's mouth drew into a line. The silence was loud. He needed to get the buzzing out of his system.

His hand darted out and grabbed the back of (Y/N)'s head before he tugged him close enough to slam their mouths together. (Y/N) stiffened briefly before his tense muscles relaxed, the sharp whoosh of his tail swaying hard from side to side filling Miles's ears. His fingers dug into Miles's shoulders tightly, purposefully, and he allowed Miles to invade his mouth with a muffled hum. (Y/N) tasted tart and tangy, like one of the fruits he favored.

Miles dropped his free hand to his belt and fiddled with it until he could pop the button of his pants and feel them droop around his hips. He shoved them further down his thighs and left them to pool around his ankles, a grunt vibrating in his throat when (Y/N) bit his bottom lip and drew blood.

His hand reared back, a sting erupting along his palm when it made contact with (Y/N)'s behind. He swallowed the startled noise (Y/N) made and dragged him close enough for their chests to press firmly together. (Y/N)'s tail smacked against his thigh like a whip, hard and fast enough to have the effect of one. 

"You're a real piece of work, ain'tcha?" Miles chuckled huskily, the pain only adding to the heat flowing through his veins and making his briefs unbearably tight.

His tongue pressed against the small cut on his lip, the rusty metallic of blood dancing on his tongue before he dropped his hands down to the back of (Y/N)'s thighs and tugged on them to topple the Na'vi onto the mattress. A huff of surprise left (Y/N) but before he could prop himself up onto his elbows, Miles dragged him until his hips were almost off the bed. He tugged on the loincloth impatiently and tossed it aside blindly, his knees thumping loudly against the metal once he dropped to his knees. 

The way (Y/N) blinked down at him in bewilderment made him grin wolfishly. "Just wanna get a taste, is all." 

This body was new, young, and had the sensitivity of a virgin (which it technically was) but his mind had fifty-one years of experience sleeping with men and women on Earth and Pandora. He often preferred women, preferred the plushness of breasts over pecs, but he'd never been one to let an opportunity pass him by, especially not with his body reacting so strongly to the puzzled Na'vi. 

The last person he recalled being with had been Paz, Spider's mother. The surprise that came with her pregnancy left him taking a silent vow of celibacy while he wrapped his head around being a father, along with avoiding her as if she had the plague. He regretted it now but it was something of the past, unchangeable.

(Y/N) let out a noise of confusion when Miles spread him and then a startled, strangled gasp when his tongue prodded at him. One had to wonder how many times he'd been with someone else intimately. Miles laughed under his breath and began lapping like a starved animal, licking and prodding. He shoved his briefs down his thighs to free himself and felt himself twitch when he delicately pushed one finger past the rim. (Y/N)'s legs caged around his head immediately and he hummed, pressing his cheek into his thigh.

"Breathe, sweetheart." He called, grin lazy and voice teasing. "You ain't ever done this before, huh?" 

"Tanfwìngtu." (Y/N)'s tail smacked his thigh again, this time gentler. His face had flushed a deeper shade of blue and his chest moved with heavy pants. Reducing a would-be killer to a flustered mess made Miles's head spin and ego inflate. "You-"

Miles drew back and then pushed a second digit, mouth curling into a pleased grin when (Y/N)'s back arched off the bed. "Don't bite the hand that feeds now. I'm being nice, aren't I?" He moved his fingers at an even pace, ears absorbing each soft squelch and every noise flowing from (Y/N)'s mouth. "Is this how Jake tamed his wild woman?"

(Y/N) grunted and reached down, his fingers curling along the short hairs and firmly tugging. Miles nipped at his thigh in warning but (Y/N) simply tugged again, a breathy chuckle huffing into the air that made Miles's ears flick forward. He moved upward, flattening his tongue at the base of (Y/N)'s twitching length and dragging it along until he reached the spurting tip.

"Ain't this a pretty thing?" He laughed and (Y/N) scoffed. 

Miles had never paid much attention to his cock, other than when he was taking a piss or relieving himself of some stress with his hand, but if he had, he would've realized the difference in appearance. He'd expected something similar to human anatomy, and it mostly was, but (Y/N)'s twitching cock was in an ombre color: a light blue at the tip that slowly faded into the deep blue that covered the rest of his body. Little white freckles were scattered across it, glowing faintly with each shiver that went up his spine. 

Miles grinned wildly as he slipped his fingers out and listened to the strangled whine that followed, his tail flicking and coiling blissfully. "I gotcha, I gotcha, don't worry." He adjusted himself, pushing at his rim until the tip popped inside and he released a low hiss at the overwhelming warmth. He leaned over (Y/N) and pressed a biting kiss to his collarbone. "See what happens when you comply?"

"Skxawng," (Y/N) reached around and firmly wrapped his fingers around Miles's braid, grinning wickedly when Miles's body shivered. He tugged on it and Miles's hips jerked forward, a low groan and curse tumbling past his lips. A soft, near-purr-like noise rumbled in (Y/N)'s chest. "I will never follow orders from a vrrtep."

"Yeah?" Miles steadied himself, sinking his knees into the mattress and finding himself pleasantly surprised when (Y/N)'s legs curled around his waist. He could feel the coolness of the beaded jewelry rub against him through his shirt, pressing and leaving circular imprints. "We'll see about that."

If he'd come to learn anything since meeting the Na'vi beneath him, it was that he could handle just about anything. He pressed an uncharacteristically delicate kiss to his jawline and planted one hand by his head, fisting the sheets into his hand and offering one last crooked grin. His hips snapped forward, bottoming out and relishing both the warm squeeze and the feeling of (Y/N) biting roughly into his shoulder.

He groaned into his twitching ear and tried to focus all his attention on the knot in his lower belly. He'd done far too much teasing to end up squirting early like a teen boy during his first time. The concept of virginity and early release was likely nonexistent to the locals who barely batted an eye at nudity, but it'd be mortifying if any of the blabbermouths he worked with found out.

Miles evened out his breathing and grunted softly when (Y/N) released his shoulder, his unfocused vision turning to peer down at him. His hand had curled around Miles's wrist, tight as if he were holding on for dear life, but what Miles found most endearing (aside from the hint of blood smeared on the corner of his mouth) was the feeling of their tails curled together. "I gotcha." He repeated softly and, with slightly pursed lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod. 

When he took a second too long to act, (Y/N)'s ears flicked back. "Move." 

Miles huffed out a short laugh. "So bossy." 

But Miles did as asked and began snapping his hips, rough and hard just as he always liked it. His mind blanked and an almost guttural groan rushed out, mixing with the whines and moans of (Y/N) writhing beneath him.

His arm gave out so he braced himself on his forearm instead, his other hand dipping down to grip (Y/N)'s hip and keep him firmly in place. Miles buried his face into his neck, inhaling the scent of the forest still clinging to his skin and dragging his tongue over one of the stripes there. 

(Y/N)'s cheek pressed against his head, his hot panting making Miles's ear twitch annoyingly but when he nuzzled into him, obviously delirious, Miles felt his heart stutter in his chest. The knot in his lower belly tightened and only prompted him to drill into him faster, his fingers digging into his skin harder and canines grazing over his skin. (Y/N)'s noises were reduced to babbling Miles couldn't understand, though he assumed it was cursing, and breathless gasps forced out of him with each thrust. 

"C'mon, baby," Miles roughly kissed his throat, nipping it lightly after, and pulled back to eye the watery glaze over (Y/N)'s half-lidded eyes. He released his hip and wrapped his hand around his speckled length, giving it a few pumps until (Y/N) was squeezing the life right out of him. "Jesus."

With a cry, (Y/N) arched up into him and spurted all over his hand, staining Miles's olive green shirt in the process. Miles's rutting grew messy, his thighs quivering and threatening to give out on him. He pressed his mouth against (Y/N)'s again in a sloppy kiss and he let out a long, muffled groan when he finally felt the knot snap. His body slumped over (Y/N) and his arms wrapped around him firmly, keeping him from slipping out of reach.

"How's that for a vrrtep?"

"Could have been better." (Y/N) muttered tiredly, his fingers lightly dancing along Miles's braid. 

Miles snorted. "Fuckin' brat."

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Defied (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

Warnings: evil!reader, that Celebrimbor scene in 2x08, so torture and death (the description isn’t too graphic and reader doesn’t torture him directly but she plays good cop to Sauron’s bad cop) angst + comfort, biting, some manhandling, mention of reader killing people

Note: one more fic in the evil!reader collection. Works on its own too but reader’s backstory is more detailed than here in Old Wounds. I think I broke myself writing this.

Celebrimbor awakens to a damp cloth gently brushing the blood and sweat off his feverish brow. A touch kinder than he had imagined he would ever feel again. He groans weakly, awash with relief as he opens his eyes.

Any trace of comfort vanishes when he sees it is the wife of Sauron who is administering the merciful treatment.

“Shh,” you murmur as he tries to lift his head. The soft pillow on which it’s resting are your thighs, your legs folded beneath you as you sit sideways on the floor. It takes only the lightest push for you to hold him down by the shoulder, but it still sends pain shooting through his tormented body.

“We do not have long,” you whisper, throwing a slightly nervous glance towards the door. “He will return soon.”

Frowning and too weak to do anything but lie there, Celebrimbor searches the room with his eyes, finding that the two of you are, indeed, alone. He also finds that you have removed the arrows from his body while he had been unconscious, his wounds still painful but at least more bearable than before. To his surprise, they don’t seem to be bleeding as profusely as one would expect.

“I’ve done what I could,” you say regretfully, gently pressing the cloth to his temple. “I can do more.”

Your voice leads him to raise his gaze to yours. There’s a shaft of light pouring through the window at just the right angle so that it bathes your face in an ethereal glow. Looking at him from above, all beauty and light in the midst of his forge’s ruins, you seem like a gift from the Valar themselves. You could be his salvation, his way back to freedom, if only he would—

“If only I would give you the Nine.”

His voice is so weak and hoarse, he barely hears it himself. Your brow furrows, as sympathetic as the small smile you grace him with.

“There is no other way,” you whisper.

Despite it all, the weakest of chuckles escapes his parched throat.

“After he is done inflicting his torment,” he says, somehow finding enough strength within himself to pour into his voice, “you come to me with a kind word and soothing touch. Seeking to melt my will, rather than break it.” He shakes his head once, meeting your gaze unwaveringly, even from below. “I see through the illusions now. His... and yours.”

You breathe in. Slowly, deeply. As you exhale, the divine light dims and vanishes, leaving your expression as it truly is—cold and utterly frustrated as you give a sharp sigh.

“And how is that to your benefit?” you deadpan. You cast the bloodied cloth aside and remove your legs from under him. He groans in pain as you maneuver him so that he’s sitting up against a column, standing to your full height beside him. There’s nothing soothing whatsoever about the sight of you looking down at him now.

“Seriously, Celebrimbor,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. You’ve already sacrificed those poor guards of yours to do it. I mean,” you shake your head, chuckling with pity, “trying to have my husband arrested, like some common Elf? What did you imagine that would accomplish?”

“Does it not pain you,” he ignores your taunts, voice trembling as it grows in despair, “to see me tormented as the one you claim to love once was, at the hands of Morgoth? You said you were there. You said Morgoth had you mend him with your gifts, only so he could begin his tortures anew. Did you not weep as you told that story? Does it not pain you, then,” he cries out, “that your beloved husband would force you to relive that past by having you do the very same to another?!”

“It’s not him that is forcing me!” you scream out in return.

He had said that word—husband—which you use so often, and with such delight, as if it were the greatest poison known to Middle-Earth. That cracked something within you, tears of anger burning in your eyes as you begin to pace like an animal in a cage.

“Do you think this is what I would have chosen? Do you think this is what I’ve always wanted?”

Before you know what you are doing, you grab a piece of rubble and flung it against the pillar, above Celebrimbor. He gasps and flinches as pieces of shattered stone rain down dangerously close to him, though he’s lucky enough to only become covered in dust.

“There was a time,” you say, practically trembling with anger as you rush to Celebrimbor’s side, “after Morgoth was defeated, when he and I were perfectly content to simply... exist! That was enough. More than enough. We were finally free from Morgoth, finally free to be together.” You shake your head and close your eyes, breathing to regain your composure. After that, you are no longer shaking, and your voice is grim. “But we both had been free before. And we knew how easily that can be taken away. The only being who truly has freedom... is that who controls all else. And so that had to be us.”

“Perfectly sound logic.”

His words drip sarcasm. Your jaw clenches.

“Mock me all you want,” you say, crouching to his level and forcing him to look straight your merciless gaze with a firm knuckle beneath his chin. “Which one of us has their freedom now?”

Celebrimbor meets your ire with a sympathetic smile.

“Neither, my false friend,” he murmurs. “Neither.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes you. You have truly underestimated his willpower. But he has done the same with your ruthlessness.

“We’ll see,” you hiss. “Love,” you call out, the word fierce but ragged on your tongue as you release Celebrimbor’s face and stand up. He hasn’t noticed your husband walk into the room, or come to stand no longer than an arm’s length away from you. Most likely he had been lingering in the shadows, waiting for a sign from you to reveal himself. Even as you turn to him, you’re still glaring daggers meant for Celebrimbor.

“I think he likes you better,” you say.

Sauron looks at you, impassive. “Perhaps you’ve lost your touch.”

What might have otherwise been simply another tease cuts into your chest. He is a particular kind of distant now, has been since you have lost the Nine. The setback angered you as well, but your husband seems wholly consumed with the need to have them in his grasp again. Perhaps because he had poured part of himself into the making of those Rings. Not like that is any consolation. There’s a strain between you now, and nothing playful about it—only a sense of dread sinking its claws into your heart.

At an uncharacteristic loss for a snide reply, you clench your mouth shut and step aside to let him do the work.

But Celebrimbor does not relent. No matter how many arrows your husband plants in him, how much pain he endures, his lips remain sealed and the location of the Nine firmly withheld. Your husband speaks of the Orcs ravaging his city, and Celebrimbor speaks of the birds that used to fly to the river who are now silenced. Your husband pleads with him to let him share the wonders of the Rings with the world, and Celebrimbor speaks of the peace he is soon to find in death.

“There are ways to keep you alive,” is Sauron’s grim reply. “My wife’s skill being the most efficient of them.”

“Is it?” you question quietly. “I thought I’d... ‘lost my touch’.”

You don’t bother to look at him as you speak the bitter words. For a while now, you’ve been leaning against the wall near the window, staring out at the darkened horizon. You don’t need to see your husband to picture the piercing gaze he turns towards you, or the tick in his jaw as he grouses, “Now is not the time—”

“It’s never the time.” Your head whips to look at him, and you flinch when you find him closer already than you had expected, staring you down. But you’re long past being intimidated by such gestures. You only meet your husband’s gaze defiantly. “I no longer wish to do this.”

There is the smallest furrow of his brow, equal parts surprised and disturbed. You hardly ever refuse each other. Especially in moments as critical as this. Glancing at Celebrimbor, you see his bloody brow is knitted in confusion, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to give heed to his words. And it is not for him that you are doing this—but your husband follows your line of sight, and his gaze has gone from displeased to wrathful as it returns to yours.

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a little blood,” he says, voice low and menacing as he steps closer, crowding you into the wall. “Or perhaps it is not the torment, but the Elf on whom it is being inflicted that stays your hand?” He takes hold of your wrist as he speaks, lifting it between your chests as he closes his fingers over yours with misleading delicacy. “Is that it, my love? Has our dear Celebrimbor grown on you at last?”

“Don’t be absurd,” you huff out, making to walk past him—but he slams your hand into the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours, trapping you as you gasp and glare. Your free hand pushes against his chest to no avail, while his cups your cheek to make you look him in the eye.

“Is this why you tell him of our past so freely?” he growls, his breath hot and heavy on your lips. “Why you justify yourself, hoping to find forgiveness, perhaps? Compassion?” He trembles with rage as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. ���...desire?”

Rage blinds you, raw and animalistic—and like an animal, you bite onto his finger, shoving him in the chest at the same time. He stumbles back, glaring down at his hand. Your teeth have drawn black blood, and you furiously wipe it off your lips with the back of your hand.

“How dare you?” You charge for him and hit his chest again, putting enough of your powers behind it that he almost doesn’t catch himself and tumbles to the ground. “How dare you accuse me of such treachery?” you scream. Tears of rage gather in your eyes, while his are a mix of disbelief and anger. “After all I have done for you. All the ways I have proven my devotion, the oaths we swore, the centuries we have lived for nothing but each other—”

“You speak as though I were a stranger to your jealous anger,” he retorts. “As if you did not pierce me with your rageful glare each time as I so much as looked Mirdania’s way—”

“I did not mean it as you do!” you cry out. “It was a game, it’s what we do! You know that.”

For a moment, only your heavy breathing fills the room. Yours and your husband’s as you stare each other down, neither willing to yield. But there is also the faint sound of Celebrimbor’s, who lies nearly forgotten in the rubble. It reminds you what it was that had been gnawing at you in the first place. You shut your eyes briefly, willing your voice to be calm and composed as you speak.

“I’ve done my fair share of dark deeds, most in the name of our love,” you say, this time heading towards your husband in a peaceful manner. “I shall do more, if needed. Worse. But this—what is happening here...” You nod your head, infuriatingly helpless as you admit, “He’s right. It means something to me. To us. This is exactly what Morgoth put us through. You are asking me to do what he made me to do you.” Your voice begins to tremble with long-suppressed grief. “And you, in your greed for those Rings, could not care less what it does to me to think of that time, let alone reenact it.”

Your husband stares as though you’ve said something incomprehensible.

“All depends upon the Rings,” he all but whispers, willing you to understand. This time when he takes one of your hands in his, the gesture is somehow both tender and desperate, as if you’ll slip away. “All of this... is for us,” he vows.

That sliver of doubt in your chest is enough to break you.

“Is it?” you breathe out shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Because it is your blood you have poured into the Nine. Not ours.”

You pull away from him—to his devastation, written plainly on his face. Your hand shakes as you wipe away your tears. A deep, aching desire burns in you to be away from this place, to start anew. You feel it is the only way to fix what has been broken, even if you can’t even tell where the divide between you lies or where it has begun.

“We shall soon have an army,” you try to reason. “Power beyond imagining, even without the Nine. No doubt, with time the Rings will find their way to you—”

“And you would have me wait for them even one moment more?” he says in disbelief. You give him a sorrowful smile.

“I have awaited your return for an eternity,” you say. “Perhaps it is your turn to wait for my sake.”

His voice is so faint you barely hear as he asks, “Or what?”

A terrible pause follows. There’s a threat in your eyes, which you don’t dare to speak out loud. You are not even sure you would be capable of doing such a thing—if, even just as another game between you, as an attempt to rile him up, even just for a brief time, you might truly find the strength or the will to turn and walk away—

It’s as if he senses the shape of those words in your mind, and they clip his breath. In an instant, he takes your face in his hands, his hold on you desperate and his eyes feral.

“If you betray me... if you forsake me...” he breathes out the word like it’s poison, planting daggers in his throat as he speaks it, “I shall forget all thoughts of healing, and raze Middle-Earth to the ground so that I am all that is left in the world for you to return to.”

“Even the Rings?” you ask, gripping his wrists to keep him close, every inch of you weak at the tortured yearning in his declaration. “Would you vanquish them as well, if it meant I would return to you?”

For a moment, his eyes widen as though you have stabbed him. Then they darken with determination.

“I shall have you... and the Rings,” he swears. “Nothing less.” His lips meet yours roughly, briefly, like he wants to prove they are still his to kiss. “Nothing...” He does it again. “...less.”

And this time, you believe him. You are desperate to, and mad with longing, ready to lose yourself to your husband’s touch and let it purge this new fear that has crept inside your heart, whispering insidiously that peril for the love you share lies on the path ahead of you. But your embrace is cut short by Celebrimbor’s voice.

“Shadow of Morgoth!” he calls out. You and your husband break away and turn to him, and the sheer defiance in his gaze chills you to the bone. “You shall have neither,” he says fiercely. “The Rings of Power shall destroy you. This twisted... mockery of love shall be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. And in the end,” his voice grows to a guttural cry, “I foresee it is the very fruit of it that shall be your utter ruin!”

You gasp in horror. It’s as though the dread within you has spoken from his mouth. Your husband is equally affected, though he is moved to rage rather than fear. In an instant, he has picked up a spear, reached Celebrimbor and impaled him in the stomach, lifting him up against the pillar.

“You’re wrong!” he growls up at the Elf moaning in pain. “We shall rule together,” he declares, almost in a craze, “and be masters of our own creations.”

Even now, even like this, Celebrimbor smiles defiantly. “No,” he says. “You shall be slaves to them. And to each other. Sauron... the Abhorred... and his Accursed Bride. Lord and Lady of the Rings.”

And so, Celebrimbor gives his last breath.

You’ve seen beings die before. You’ve been responsible for it. You can’t remember the last time it’s left you as hollow as it does now, Celebrimbor’s final words still lingering in the air around you.

“It’s only words,” you murmur in the silence, to convince the both of you. “They mean nothing.”

Your husband drives the end of the spear into the ground, leaving the body propped up against the pillar.

“I wanted to do worse,” he says blankly, staring at the ground. “But you wished for this to be over. So I did as you asked.” He lifts his gaze to yours. “How could his words be true... when there is nothing I would not do to keep you?”

His words steal your breath—but what truly claws at your heart, leaving it raw and trembling within your chest, is the fact that a lone tear has swelled in his eye, and slipped down his cheek.

“You are weeping,” you whisper, awe-stricken. “I have not seen your tears since...”

Your throat closes around the words.

“Do you doubt me, my love?” he murmurs. “Do you doubt us?”

His voice, weak and pained, undoes you.

“No,” you breathe out. “No, no, no!”

You all but run to him and throw your arms around his neck, whimpering as he wraps you in a desperate embrace. He releases a ragged breath, his heartbeat rampant against your chest, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder that makes you shiver. “We will have all that we have been striving for,” you promise against his neck, then pull back to look into his eyes. “Soon. Together.”

“My love,” is all he whispers in return. You cup his face with the most gentle touch, fingers brushing his fair hair before you press your lips to his cheek, cherishing each drop of his tears that you are kissing away.

“My love,” you repeat as if in prayer. You rest your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently nudging at the bow made of his hair as you simply stand there, holding him with his cheek to yours.

Celebrimbor was wrong. You were wrong to fear. No feeling so soul-consuming in its might could ever be shattered. Not by powers of flesh, not by those over flesh. You are sure of it now.

It’s like this that the Orcs find you as they barge into the forge room with bloody weapons in their hands. One gestures for the others to halt while you and your husband face them, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you him?” he asks, some semblance of hope in his gruff voice. “Are you Sauron?”

“I have many names,” your husband says, as always. “But her...” he wraps his arm around your waist as you hold your chin high, “you shall call ‘my Queen’.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Kill and make up

Next fic with same reader -> The Two

[a-jynx]

care to stay? (astarion x reader)

i'll let you guess, it's kinda angsty!

warnings; a lot of blood talk, injuries, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst to keep it spicy, and maybe some ooc astarion! enjoy!

Sharp whines pierced your skull, licking at the contents inside as your eyes twitched open. Squinting at the ache in your thundering bones, you slowly rolled onto your back, sitting up onto your elbow with a groan.

What in the Hells happened...? Pushing up with your shaking limbs, you staggered, falling into a cracked and crumbling wall. Squeezing your teeth that caused a dull ache behind your jaw. Glancing around, you watched as the flames flickered and danced among the rubble. The crumbling surface around you reeked of smoke powder and copper, along with the putrid stench of smoked flesh. Swallowing thickly at the dirt that coated your throat, you gripped your side while stumbling through the scattered bodies. Flashes rippled through your groaning and thrumming mind.

Your party. Your brain scattered, thinking of everyone within the walls. Shadowheart, Gale, Karlach... Astarion.

Goblins had ambushed you. Shadowheart and Astarion were busy trying to keep them off of you and Gale, whilst Karlach had gone into her fit of rage.

The smoke powder barrel. You remember shouting as the Goblins fire arrow whizzed past your lot, your eyes wide as you all ran towards the exit as the explosion boomed.

Groaning, you dragged your feet through the clutter, your boots catching on jagged stones and the thick, blackened goop of blood stuck to your boots like sap. Swaying towards another door, it's once oak colored darkened from the blast, a handprint of blood smeared across the handle. Wetting your lips, you drew your dagger and shouldered through, only to sigh as you spotted Karlach helping Shadowheart with Gale's wounds.

"My Gods," Karlach laid Gale back against the bed, quickly moving towards you as you stumbled into her hold, not caring about the sizzling as she moved you towards the other bed. "Solider, are you alright? You took the blunt of the blow, if I'm being honest, I'm shocked yet thrilled to see you alive."

You winced away from the burning sensation as your back met the soft, yet dirt-covered mattress. "Thank you, Karlach," your voice rasped, soot still coating it and resting among the blood in your teeth. "Where's Astar-"

"He went to find-"

You jumped as the door slammed open. "I can't find them anywhere! There's more goblin guts and d" his voice staled when his eyes landed on your shaking figure, Karlach's hand still hovering over. "By the Hells! Watch where you're aiming those torches," he hissed, moving to the other side of the bed, his arms over his chest as Karlach rolled her eyes.

"They're fine, Astarion, they're our fearless leader, remember?" Her comment held bite as you winced, searing pain rippled through your melting mind. Astarion's lips moved to speak, his eyes glanced towards you as he gently gasped. Blood leaked from your ears, decorating the mattress and your hair below. Eyes clenched shut as you gritted your teeth, more pain shooting through as if your jaw would splinter.

"Heal them now, dammit!" Astarion shouted as Shadowheart finished healing over Gale, who slowly sat up in bed, groaning and clenching his shoulder. The cleric moved quickly, her hands already glowing a crisp, bright blue before laying them on your temples. More searing caressed your aching skull, yet this time it felt calming. Like that of an animal licking at its wounds. Soothing. Your body shook, feeling the bond shake and mend within your soup-like mind. The sharp whines became whimpers of your own voice. A gasp ripped through your burning throat as the crackle of your rib mended itself back into place.

"Is it working? Will they be alright?" Karlach stood closer to Shadowheart as she sighed, her fingers began to shake. She was growing weak...

"I'm not sure how much more I have in me-"

"You'll continue to heal them until Avernus freezes over if it'll help them," Astarion snipped, one of his hands had moved amongst the blood and dirt, caressing your fingers in a way of saying 'I'm here'. Your chest clenched as a blood-curdling scream wretched through your throat, rattling your still bubbling mind. Shadowheart grimaced, yanking her hands back with a shout, her hands stung with a rose-like red blistering her palms. Karlach gently caressed Shadowhearts' armored shoulder and moved towards Gales' bed, who stood in shock. Astarion had moved to sit on the bed with you, his arms holding onto your shoulders as you shook and cried out.

Her healing had worked, but its' effects worked through each injury like a professional seamstress. Weaving through your veins, smothering in and over your bones' marrow, and licking at your popped eardrums and rattled brain damage from within. You withered in Astarion's grasp, shaking as tears streaked down your dirty cheeks. "I- I tried to save us," your voice shook. Astarion frowned, his thumb brushed against your skin. "Just rest, darling.." His voice was a gentle whisper, his cool skin pressed against your sweat-covered skin. Sighing against his chest, your eyes fluttered close. The soot and dirt caused a soft grimace, yet there was a comforting scent hidden amongst it.

*******

You blinked awake, wincing as you slowly sat up from the bedroll beneath you. "What the Hells," you winced more at the sound of your gravel-like voice. Humming, you took in your surroundings. Soft pillows and carpets surrounded you, a gentle candlelight flittered within the bright red tent. Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you glanced down, noticing your tunic missing and dull-white wrappings secured around your ribs. Crimson blossomed across the wrappings causing you to frown.

Jumping as the tent flaps opened, revealing Astarion with a bowl and prime white wraps resting across his forearm. His movements paused, your eyes met as he sat the bowl down and moved towards you, grabbing your flushed cheeks and slamming your lips together. You gently moaned into the kiss, flinching at pain that shot through your side. "Thank the Gods you're awake," he mumbled against your lips, resting his forehead against your own. "I thought you were gone..." His voice lower, barely a whisper.

With a smile, you rested your jaw against his rough palms, relishing in the callouses he's gained over your time together. "And leave you all alone with Gale? I couldn't." You couldn't fight back the grin as he rolled his eyes, leaning back on his calves and helping you lay back against the cot. "Because you know he'd be insufferable for me to endure alone," he smiled gently, brushing your hair from your eyes. Sighing, you leaned further into the bedroll, Astarion reached back and grabbed the bowl, dipping the piece of cloth into the cool water and dabbing it against your sweltering forehead.

"How're the others?"

"They're fine, we need to worry about getting you back to proper health, my dear," he hummed, dropping the rag back into the bowl. His fingertips dragged gently over your ribs, watching as your body jumped from the soft touches. Your brows furrowed, gently grabbing his flittering touches. "Star... Please,"

"They're alright, my love, I promise.." He sighed, gently undoing the wraps and frowning at the snarled wound. The blast had cut through your flesh like butter. Soot and dirt had embedded itself into your wound and clung to your hanging flesh, it had caused him to cringe inward at the sight of your gnarled flesh. He worked quickly, dabbing the wet cloth against the charred skin, sighing as you flinched away. Wrapping the new bandages, he sat back while wringing out the blackened and bloodied rag. "And how're you...?"

The water dripping ceased as his lips pressed into a tight line, the rag dropped next to your arm as you pushed up onto your elbows. "Star..?" You frowned, rolling onto your non-injured side as he turned towards you, his hand cupped your jaw as you reached up, catching his with a sigh. Tears brimmed his ruby colored eyes. "I thought we lost you when you fainted. There was just... So much blood. Your blood mixed with that dirt and soot, and I couldn't-" His voice caught, choking in his throat as he shook his head. "The mere scent of your blood mixed with such retched things; it made my stomach churn. Caused the bile to claw up my throat."

You stared at Astarion - you both had found safety in one another. Trust had built quickly with how many battles you both had gotten into together, the stories shared amongst with goblets of wine, confiding in one another when everything seemed hopeless. And of course, with your shared comfort came... Feelings.

Astarion hated it.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you, it was the simplest plan for him to follow, yet here he was. On the verge of crying while he coddled you close, his fingertips ghosting over your new bandages. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you tugged him down to the bedroll, racking your fingers through his thick, white curls. You shared a comfortable silence as he wrapped his arms around your chest, as carefully as he could, his hands still trembling. You fitted yourself against his chest, sighing while twisting a wild curl around your finger.

"You can touch me, my Star, I'm not made of glass-"

"No, but you need your rest... I should go-"

"Please... I don't want to be alone," you murmured into his shirt, tightening your arms around his waist as he moved to leave. Blinking, his hands hovered over your shivering skin. His lip slightly trembled before he swallowed thickly. "Ask me to stay," his voice shook as you squeezed him close, feeling your own tears well up. He believed he would hurt you more than help you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." Leaning up onto his chest, you leaned up and pressed a tight kiss to his lips.

Your mouths moved together. Teeth and tongue clanking and grinding against each other. Astarion's hands settled on your hips, soft circles tugged at your loose pants, his nails scrapping by the edge of your bandages. A gentle shudder ran through your bones as you maneuvered yourself on top of his lap, gritting your teeth to keep the pained moan buried in your throat. Pressing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, his lips trailed down your throat to the scarred bite mark. Your body moved gently against his lap, rolling circles into his hips before he rolled you off of him, chest heaving.

"Astarion, wait,"

"We're... Resting." His voice slightly wavered, his nails gently digging into your shoulders before he moved to lay beside you. Tugging your body closer, smothering his nose into your hair, deeply inhaling as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

"When you're not constantly bleeding," his voice muffled as you rolled your eyes. His fingers gently pinched at your thigh. "Then, we'll have all the fun you deserve, my darling."

*****

You awoke to quiet murmuring - distant, gentle - as if not wanting to break the silence the moon had brought on. Lighting your pinkie, you moved to light the candle beside your bedroll, only to jump when a pair of arms tightened around your waist.

Astarion's body quivered against your own, his arms tightened. You cringed at the pain shooting through your body, but gritting your teeth, you turned over as much as his grip would allow. Grasping his shoulder, you gently shook the somewhat whimpering elf.

"Astarion, honey, wake up." You murmured into the air, huffing as he released your waist, one arm slipping from around you as it grasped at his tunic, tugging on the slightly tattered tunic. "My star, please," his fangs dipped into his bottom lip, blood dribbled from the nibbled skin. "Astarion, wake the hells up!" You shook him more, ignoring the searing pain as his claw-like nails dug into your skin. His eyes snapped open; a gasp choked through him as tears leaked down his cheeks.

Elvish ripped through his lips before he could even comprehend the words his tongue spilt. Your eyes widened, quickly setting up on your knees, both hands grasping his sticky cheeks. "Astarion, my love, breathe, please." Grasping one of his shaking hands, you placed his palm against your heaving chest, your heart beating heavily. His eyes caught yours, more tears leaked past your hands as you rubbed your thumb against his cheeks. "Breathe, my Moon, follow my rhythm."

His hands trembled against your skin, slowly his eyes blinked as he seemed to finally focus on your eyes. Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and slowly reached up, locking his hands through your locks. Astarion tugged you into his body, his hands shook as he held you close. His breathing shook as he tightened his grip, making you whimper in his hold.

"Astarion, are you alright... Do you need a minute?" Your voice was low, attempting to keep the peace within your shared tent. You held each other close, gentle kisses caressed his skin as he leaned further into you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." You murmured into his hair, cradling him further into your body. You wanted to shield him away from everything. The fear and anger that tries to eat away at him. He looked up, slowly leaning back, but keeping his hold on you. Astarion licked his lips slowly, a shaking sigh passed through him as he moved to hold your cheeks.

"Care to stay?"

[librarygarten]

I’ve been thinking about the infodumping to the chain about Zelda games post and all I want to do now is tell them about the speedrunning in botw 💀

Like imagine looking Wild dead in the eyes and telling him that he could’ve beaten Ganon with a pot lid and a spoon completely naked not even a day after he wakes up habdmdvsusjsbd

Even better, imagine the potential angst if the boys DID use speedrun strategies... because of Isekai! Reader. Reader is their player, and the line between their control and the boys' free will is incredibly blurry at best >:]

#1 Chain x Speedrunner! Deity! Isekai! Reader - Who's in Control?

Part 1 includes Wild, Four, and Warriors Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2 ✿ Part 3

When you first fell through the portal and joined the chain on their quest, you had revealed that they were only stories in your world. It had taken a while for them to understand the concept of a video game, and even longer for them to come to terms with the fact that some of the most traumatic events of their lives were reduced to children’s entertainment. However, as they talked with you, they came to another horrifying discovery: YOU were their “player.” Your actions in your world, the decisions you made while playing the games, directly influenced their own lives. What’s more, you were a speedrunner.

Wild

It was a peaceful day in camp. You were sitting near the fire, watching Wild cook, chatting about nothing in particular. Suddenly, his head snapped up, as if he suddenly realized something important.

“You made me fight Ganon in my underwear.” he says. He stares at you. You stare back, unsure how to respond. Anything you could say dies in your throat. He continues. “I couldn’t beat Ganon back when the Champions were alive. Back when I had the Master Sword. But you managed with a pot lid and a spoon.”

“Well, that was still you.” You can feel the sweat run down the back of your neck. “The line between what’s me and what’s you is kind of blurry. It didn’t feel like you were being controlled, did it?”

“No. I just remember thinking I had to get to the castle as soon as possible.” Wild looks down at his hands, contemplating his next words. “I did things without thinking, really. When I jumped around and shot that arrow, I didn’t know why. It just seemed… natural.”

You were aware of what he was talking about. A common way to skip Windblight Ganon. The only things needed were some well-placed jumps and an arrow. Shooting the arrow at just the right place would make it get stuck in Windblight’s head, essentially one-shotting him.

Wild turns back up at you.

“You made me fight Ganon in my underwear.” He emphasizes the last few words, as if he still can’t come to terms with this reality.

“I’m sorry?” You really don’t know what to say. Nothing could possibly make this situation worse. “It would have made a difference, really. I wasn’t planning on getting hit, so armor was pointless.”

“That’s right. I didn’t get hit once.” Wild looks shocked. “I dodged everything.”

“So everything worked out!” You smile nervously.

“But why?” He asks incredulously. “Wasn’t it hard? Why would you go straight to the castle?”

“Gotta go fast?”

Four

Another busy day at camp. There was food to cook, clothes to mend, weapons to fix. While the others went out to gather materials, you and Four kept yourselves busy, trying to get as much done as possible before they got back.

“Y/N. You played my games, right? You kind of influenced what I did and stuff?” Four asks out of the blue.

“Yea, why?” You put down the shirt you were mending and looked up at him. He was staring into the distance, as if lost in thought.

“Are you the reason why I could walk through that wall?” He turns to look directly at you. His gaze is almost paralyzing.

“Which time are you talking about?” You laugh nervously. “There’s a couple areas in The Minish Cap where you can glitch through walls into other areas.”

“The Octorock!” He exclaims, “I pushed a pot into the wall and went through the wall! Did that actually happen? I thought I was going crazy!”

“Oh, yeah. The Octo Clip is essential for speedrunning.” You explain. “It’s one of the few glitches available in your game for the 100% category.”

“Speedrunning?” He tilts his head, confused. “What’s that?”

“It’s a thing people do when playing video games. It’s like a challenge to see how fast you can beat the game. People compete to get the fastest time.” You pick up your needle again, praying that would be the end of the conversation. Talking about the nature of the chain’s free will was uncomfortable to say the least.

“Did you win, at least?” Four asks. He could understand competition; one of his games was mostly a competition between the colors.

“Ugh, not even close. I messed up the timing on the final boss so the fight took way longer than necessary. I ended up missing the top ten by a whole minute.” You lament.

“I think I remember that. I was fighting Vaati, and suddenly started panicking. I thought I was just scared.” He points an accusing finger at you. “But that was you, realizing you messed up?”

“I guess?” You shrug. “It could be both. Like, maybe you just happened to feel fear at the same time I realized I messed up? Or maybe you felt fear, causing me to mess up? It doesn’t have to just be me influencing you. It’s the multiverse. You probably influenced me too… right?” You try not to sound too desperate with your question. Surely, this connection went both ways. Otherwise… you don’t want to think about the possible implications.

“Maybe.” Four nods, but you can tell he doesn’t really believe it. With nothing more to say, you slip into silence.

Warriors

(I legit cannot find speedrun glitches for his game??? Let’s dive even deeper into the nature of freewill lmao.)

Warriors was silent as you walked along the trail. The rest of the group had run ahead, apparently excited about something they had spotted over the horizon. The last thing you heard was Wild shouting something about Hinox toenails. You were glad to have a moment of silence. You loved the boys to death, but they were a bit much at times. Unfortunately, the silence was short-lived.

“I’ve been talking to the others about their adventures. Now that we know about you, some things are starting to make sense.” Warriors’ voice is quiet, his voice low. Almost threatening. You don’t say anything. He continues. “Four told me you like to do something called speedrunning? Where you try to beat the game as fast as possible.”

“Yeah,” you say. You can feel his gaze on you. “I’m not very good at it. Most of my times don’t even get on the leaderboard.”

“And your behavior during the games influences our world.” It’s not a question. He knows.

“I guess?” You chuckle nervously, suddenly finding the dirt beneath your fingernails very interesting. “I’m still trying to figure that out. Multiverse travel be wild.”

“Was it worth it?” His voice is laced with venom.

“What?”

“What is worth it?” He repeats, then scoffs at your confused expression. “You wanted to beat my game as fast as possible. You’re the reason Zelda and I were constantly trying to push forward. Even when our supplies were low. Even when we knew we were outnumbered. That. Was all. YOU.”

You don’t know when you stopped walking. You only realize when you notice the small wet spots on the ground in front of you. You wipe your eyes, trying to stop the tears. It doesn’t help. Warriors only watches.

“I’m sorry.” Your lip trebles, but you keep looking at the ground, using your bangs as a curtain to hide your face. You don’t want him to see you start sobbing. That wouldn’t help anything.

“Sure you are.” He continues walking, leaving you standing in the middle of the path, completely alone. Before he’s out of earshot, he turns to look over his shoulder, and sarcastically remarks, “Glad you had fun.”

[elysianightsss]

La da de da viking Price for the win🛡️🌺

Your heavy snow boots trudged through the thick mounds of pure white snow, the freezing breeze was pinching and nipping at your cheeks. The cold had began to hurt your nose as you breathed, the back of your throat dry. Trying your hardest to keep warm, you shove your chin and mouth further into the top of your coat and breathe out hot air.

You only wanted to hunt for food and go back home, but seeing as you couldn’t find any animals near your little cabin, you had to venture elsewhere for the hunt. Something you annoyingly regretted the further away from home you got.

An exaggerated sigh left you for the twentieth time today as you knelt down on the ground feeling the snow start to soak into the material of your trousers. Pulling your bow off of your body and an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to your back. You drew back the string of your bow, holding the arrow steadily in place.

Closing your eyes, you waited. Listening oh so carefully, for anything. The sound of any animal to make itself known to you. A while passed, all you could hear was the soft wind and a nearby steam trickling quietly.

Until the snort of a deer had your eyes shooting open and your weapon aiming at the creature. Exhaling slowly, you let go, the arrow whipping through the air heading straight for the unknowing animal but ultimately hitting a different target. A huge gasp left you as you watched the arrow go straight into the chest of a man, the deer snorted before running off.

You grunted annoyed and dropped everything to run to the injured man. Your eyes set upon his figure. Large and strong, you recon if you’d hit anywhere else on him that’d he probably wouldn’t have collapsed. Probably would have grabbed the end of the arrow with his big sturdy hands and pulled it straight out like nothing happened. Probably.

The realisation started to set in the more you stared at him, you just shot a man. “Oh my, I’m…I’m so sorry!” You panicked falling to your knees next to him where he was on the ground. His blue eyes meeting yours, looking at you as though you were an alien. His nostrils flared as he quietly grunted, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout his chest and body.

“I was hunting and….and you…y-you stepped in front of the deer. I’m so sorry.” Your hands hovers over his injured while your mind began to become frantic with how to proceed. You eyed the expensive leather that graced his bulky figure. Wrapping around every muscle eagerly. The fur cloak that was spread around him, clearly from a hunt.

It did little to hide the tattoos on his arms. Further up chainmail covered his shoulders proving how sharp you’d made your arrows for it to pierce the chainmail that presumably sat below his tunic and leather. You took note of his face better now, thin lips almost covered by a bushy moustache all connected with thick mutton chops and a full, long beard that caught your attention a little too much.

“Are ya’ done ogling me lass?” He gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand around the arrow and yanking it out. He groaned loudly, deep and rough just like his voice when he spoke. It sent shivers through your body in an unholy way. Nothing like you’d ever felt before.

“Are you a royal from the mainland?” You asked, worry underlining your question.

He bellowed at that, “Ne’er erd’ that one before.” His laugh trailed off as he pressed his fingers into his wound and pulled them away watching the blood drip down his hand.

“My bag.” He was gesturing to the bag that lay a few meters over from where he was. You scrambled to grab it, desperately trying to pull it open. The leather satchel was medium size with about a hundred strings tying it shut.

“W-What do you need?” You were stumbling over your words as you took noticed of the blood that was seeping out of his wound and staining the snow beneath him.

The man grabbed your shaky hands in his and whispered “Breathe.” You listened hesitantly, taking a deep breath.

“Y’know I think I’m supposed to be reassuring you.” A breathless laugh leaving you sounding more like a scoff, he let out a chuckle his face scrunching up in pain.

“In the bag, the bottle with the red liquid.” Nodding quickly, you searched through the bag and pulled out the bottle, pulling the cork out with your teeth and looking at him for instructions. He took the glass container and poured it over his wound and drank the rest of it.

You watched as his heavy panting of pain began to level out. He soon sat up and looked at you curiously, “I’ve ne’er seen ye round these parts before.” He states though you’re pretty sure it was a question, you simply shrug and stand up. He followed suit, a shock jolting through you when he stands only to tower over you greatly.

“I, um really am sorry. It truly was an accident.” You wring your hands together before offering one of them to him. He looks surprised and you don’t blame him, you’re sure a woman has never made this gesture to him before.

“Svo fallegt,” he seemed to look over you for a moment then let his large hand wrap itself around yours with a shake, “S’okay.”You nodded letting go of his grip and making your way to pick up your bow and quiver.

“What’s ya name?” He asked suddenly feeling a wave of panic as he watched you walking away from him. You answered, waiting for his in return. “Price. John Price.”

Now where had you heard that name before?

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 2.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like a wagon drove her over. There's a drumming pain in her head and her shoulder. She groans and massages her forehead. Slowly, she opens her eyes, not wanting the light to sting her eyes too much. To her surprise, the light is dimmed by a red fabric that is stretched above her. "A tent?", she thinks to herself and stretches her hand upwards to touch the fabric. It feels like leather and... is warm? Suddenly the fabric moves and is jerked away. When a bony structure comes into vision, y/n realizes it's a wing, not a tent.

"Oh gods, it wasn't a bad dream", she realizes and tries to sit up carefully. Her joints are stiff and her muscles hurt with every move. "I really pushed myself to my limit", y/n thinks and massages her injured arm. She hears a raspy breath beside her and she remembers that she is sitting next to a very real and very alive dragon. She turns to her side and is met with a giant, red lizard eye. Fear pulses through her veins and her heart rate immediately picks up. She tries to scramble away from the dragon but her aching legs and arms barely have the strength to move her. The dragon shows no attention to follow or attack her.

The smell of smoke and roasted meat fills her nose. Only then y/n manages to take in her surroundings. The dead men on the other side of the clearing have disappeared and y/n wonders for a second if they were ever there. Right behind her is the fire she's smelling. The strange man is standing in front of it and roasts a piece of meat over the open flame. His back is turned to her and he shows no intentions to turn around to her. "I guess he doesn't consider me a threat.", she thinks. Y/n watches as the stranger pours some oil on the meat and turns it over again. Y/n swallows thickly. Her throat feels dry and itchy. She wonders why she's still alive. When she turns her head to her shoulder she notices the bandages that are wrapped around it. There's no arrow. "Did he pull it out?", y/n ponders. "Must be this way. It probably wasn't the dragon", she thinks to herself and gives the dragon a side-eye. The dragon has placed its head back onto its front paws and closed its eyes. Y/n relaxes a bit. Seems like neither the dragon nor the stranger is a threat to her right now.

Y/n tries to get up. Her legs are wobbly and she barely manages to get up. She tries to support her with her arms and a sharp pain shoots down her arm. She really should not use that arm for a while. Y/n staggers over to the stranger. "Uhm, I'm sorry?", she says timidly. Her voice sounds hoarse and deep. The man barely takes notice of her. Y/n stops in her step, scared to get closer. The man gives her a glance and sits down on a tree trunk behind him. He still doesn't acknowledge her presence. Y/n slowly walks up to him and sits down next to him on the trunk. She leaves some space just to be sure.

"So, uhm, did you treat my wound?", she asks carefully. Her voice still sounds awful. The man grunts and reaches to the ground. Without looking at her, he hands her over a bottle. "Uhm, thanks.", y/n says and takes the bottle. She takes a sniff and decides that it's water. She quickly takes some chugs of it. The water feels like heaven to her abused throat. When she's done, she hands back the bottle of water. For a while, the two of them sit in silence. After a while, y/n relaxes a bit. The man gets up from time to time to turn around the meat. Eventually, he takes the meat down and puts it on a plate. Y/n eyes how he cuts it in two. He takes a piece with his bare hands and hands the plate to y/n. Y/n stares up at him. "Am I allowed to eat this?", she wonders as she stares at the meat in her lap.

Finally, the man turns to her with his mouth full of meat. He says something unintelligible and points at the meat and then at her angrily. "I guess that answers my question.", she thinks and carefully picks up the meat. It's still hot and y/n almost burns her fingers. Quietly, she starts eating. The meat is good. The man must've put some spices on it. Only after the first bite, y/n notices how starved she is. When she's done, she hands the plate back to the stranger. The stranger starts tidying up around the campsite and y/n watches him. When he's done, he turns around and faces her.

Stinging red eyes pierce hers and y/n almost jumps from the intensity that lies behind them. Y/n suddenly feels very small under their burning gaze. Again the man says something y/n doesn't understand and points towards her. Y/n thinks he sounds angry but maybe it's just the language he speaks that makes him sound like that. When y/n doesn't move or say anything, the stranger stomps over to her and grabs her uninjured shoulder roughly. He turns her around and starts undoing the bandages on her shoulder. Y/n doesn't turn her head to see what he's doing. She's not too keen on looking at the wound. If it looks as terrible as it feels, she'd rather not look at it. She feels how the man peels something away from the wound and how the air hits the wound. It feels kind of cool. She hears the man scramble through some things. Suddenly a burning liquid is poured over the injury and the man wipes at the wound ferociously. It hurts and y/n flinches.

The man barks something at her and grabs her other shoulder roughly. "He probably wants me to sit still.", she thinks and tries her best to sit still as stone as the man continues to probe at her wound. Eventually, he wraps her shoulder up again and y/n watches how he puts the bandaging materials back into a bag. Carefully, y/n touches the bandages the stranger put on her. "I guess he is kind of nice after all.", she thinks to herself, "Although I really don't want to get on his bad side." She shudders at the memory of how the man sliced open the villager yesterday.

Y/n clears her throat and she notices how the stranger gives her a side-eye. "Thank you for treating my wound.", she tells him. The man sits back on the trunk again and pulls out a knife. He starts sharpening the end of a branch into a spear. "So, what's your name?", she asks him. The man gives her an angry glance and scoffs. Y/n scoots a bit closer. "He probably doesn't understand me either.", she concludes.

Softly, she touches his arm. And the man immediately jerks it away from her, looking at her as if he's about to spit out a string of curse words. Y/n points towards herself. "I'm Y/n.", she says. Then she points at him. "And you?", she asks. The man doesn't answer her. If he didn't look so angry, he probably would look confused. Y/n points at her again. "Y/n.", she says and then points at him again, looking at him expectantly. The man turns away from her and continues to sharpen his branch. Just when y/n gives up trying to find out his name, the man says without looking at her: "Katsuki".

"Katsuki.", y/n repeats and tries out how the name feels like rolling off her tongue. When she turns to the stranger, or Katsuki, she gives him a soft smile. Katsuki stares at her intensely with his red eyes and y/n wonders for a moment if she pronounced it wrongly. Then, he turns away almost looking embarrassed.

*~*~*

Actually, that's exactly how Katsuki feels like. When he told y/n his name, he did not expect her to say it this sweetly. He's been annoyed with y/n since she showed up at his camp. Even more annoyed with the men behind her. He's not sure why he helped you. In his world, nothing else matters besides his own tribe, his own people. The only time other people matter is when his people can gain something from them. May it be coin, intel or ... heirs. Maybe that's why he saved her. She's a woman after all. His people painfully learned how important it is to keep their women safe. There's not much of a future without them.

He sighs and runs a hand through his uneven hair and gives y/n a glance. Y/n stares at her hands, unsure what to say or do next. He's not sure either. In the past few years, it has become a custom that men from his tribe take women home from their raids. Since most of the fertile women of his tribe succumbed to sickness, it's their only option to ensure their future. So far, it's not very successful. These women weren't like them. They don't understand his tribe's culture. Hell, most of them don't even speak their language. Like the woman sitting next to him. They're just frail little things, taken from their homes, living in fear of their new home and their new mates. Y/n doesn't look any different from them.

Katsuki gets up angrily and shakes his head. Why is he even thinking about this? He's not taking this woman home. It has never been in the cards. There are different plans for his future. This pathetic female should be thankful that he took the time out of his day to kill those bastards for her. She should just run along, going back to her sad little life. He scoffs and starts gathering his weapons. He has come here to hunt. To bring back a victory for his people. To show them that they can rely on him. Whether to lead them into battle or to feed them. He doesn't look back at the woman sitting by the fire.

*~*~*

Y/n watches as Katsuki gathers his gear. She's not sure what she's supposed to do. Does he want her to leave? Does he want her to stay? Even if she can't understand him, at least he could say something. Katsuki fastens the satchel on his dragon. "Is he leaving?", y/n asks herself. Without sparing her another glance, the man mounts the enormous beast and with three mighty swings of its wings, the dragon is in the air. Y/n throws her head back and watches as the warrior becomes smaller and smaller. Dumbfoundedly, she spins in a circle. Y/n notices that the man left most of his supplies. Cooking utensils, the medicine bag and some other things are neatly tucked away beside the fireplace. Y/n furrows her brow. Was she supposed to look after this stuff? Or does he simply not care if his stuff gets stolen?

For the next twenty minutes or so, y/n walks the clearing up and down playing her limited interaction with Katsuki over and over in her mind. Did she miss something? Lowkey, she hopes he just needs to get something quickly and that he returns to the clearing in no time. When it's clear that he won't return anytime soon, y/n decides to leave as well. She feels stupid lingering around waiting for a man who will maybe never come back, or worse, who gets back and is angry that she's still around. Considering what happened yesterday, she really doesn't want to become the focus of his wrath. Or the one of his dragon.

Y/n stomps through the forest, figuring out her next move. Though stomping would be the wrong word. Her legs hurt so badly, she must look like a scarecrow that has come to live and not stagers around on its wooden legs. After a short while, she already needs a break. The pain in her shoulder has gotten worse again. She leans against a tree and watches the treetops move in the soft summer breeze. Suddenly, a deep feeling of despair hits her and she sinks down the tree trunk. Tears burn in her eyes and before she can stop them, they overflow.

All of a sudden, it hits her in what kind of situation she is in. She is all alone in the middle of nowhere. Everything she needed to survive got either stolen or destroyed. There is no place she can return to. She could try her luck at the capital. However, her brother probably departed to another place in the kingdom and she has no way to contact him. Hell, she probably wouldn't make it to the capital without supplies or coins. Moreover, who knows if her brother would even take her in. They never had a bad relationship but it also wasn't strong enough for him to stick around.

Y/n weeps and sorrowful sobbs fill the quiet forest air. She doesn't realize it but she hasn't cried since her parents died. It's like everything that she's bottled up over the years suddenly burst out of her. She cries until her head hurts and her sleeves are soaked with tears and snot. Only when she physically can't cry any longer, she stops to catch her breath.

Slowly, but steadily, she calms down again. She stares up at the sky for a while until she finds the strength to sort her thoughts. "It's no use", she tells herself, "I need a game plan. Otherwise, I won't survive". She gets up with newfound determination. "I need to ensure that basic needs are fulfilled first before I can think of things like getting to the capital.", she figures.

Firstly, y/n inspects what little she has in her bag that is slung around her uninjured shoulder. A small carving knife, some yarn, bee wax for her lips and cheeks, an empty glass jar, a pair of fingerless leather gloves, a notebook and a pencil. It's not much but in her head, y/n is already figuring out what it can be used for. The knife will be useful for sure. The yarn could be used for building a shelter. She can carry water in the jar. The bag itself leaves some room for provisions.

Food, water, shelter. That is her new focus. Y/n puts her things back into her bag and decides she should look for water and food first before finding a shelter for the night. Y/n puts her bag over her shoulder and starts walking. Wandering from place to place and walking for long distances between settlements, her people taught her how to find water in the wilderness and what plants are edible. Her father even taught her how to shoot squirrels with a bow for meat but since she has no bow, she will have to settle for something vegetarian.

After gathering food and water, y/n needs to take a break. Her shoulder and injured ankle hurt badly and she can only limp by now. The shadows on the forest floor get longer as the sun disappears behind the tree crowns. Y/n shivers as she tries to figure out what to do about shelter. Her thoughts are interrupted by a loud detonation somewhere North of her location. She sits in silence as she hears screeching birds fly away. It's distant enough for her not to worry about it but close enough for her to wonder what the sound was. "Didn't sound like a tree falling over. Maybe a landslide?", she wonders. However, she's sure it sounded more like lightning striking something. Considering that there's no cloud in the sky, that's unlikely.

Y/n decides not to test her luck and to look for shelter in the opposite direction. She makes only slow progress. She hopes to find a cave or a hollow tree to sleep in. She's sure that she won't be able to build a sturdy shelter with her injured shoulder. Suddenly, there's a whooshing sound above her and when she looks up, she sees the tip of a red tail disappearing out of her sight. That damn dragon. She shouldn't be surprised that she's not out of its range considering the slow pace she had to settle into due to her injuries.

Y/n hesitates for a second. She was moving in the direction that the dragon had just flown into. She's not really keen on meeting that thing again. Then again, that strange noise came from the other direction. Y/n decides that the dragon might be responsible for the sound earlier. Still, turning back is not really an option considering that she did not find any place for shelter earlier. Taking a deep breath, she continues her way through the undergrowth. She just hopes the dragon covers more ground than her or returns to Katsuki's camp eventually.

*~*~*

Katsuki's pissed off when he returns to his campsite. He's been following a flock of deer for a couple of days now. He has his eye on a mighty stag. It sure will be a trophy to bring back home. However, so far his luck is not good. Yesterday's encounter and the noises of the bastards he killed must've startled the flock. They must've fled the area and it took most of the day to track them down. When he finally found them, he missed the stag by an inch. Which of course startled the whole group and tomorrow he can start tracking them down all over again.

Almost, he forgot the strange woman he left at the clearing. Upon his arrival, he didn't even notice her absence at first. When he does notice, he only scoffs angrily. "Good", he thinks, "She got the hint". However, while he prepares dinner, his thoughts drift off. He wonders how far y/n could've gotten on her injured foot. He wonders if the woman knows how to clean and dress a wound. If the wound on her shoulder gets infected, that will be a death sentence for sure. Especially out here in the wilderness. Unless her tribe is close and can take care of her. Then again if those bastards from yesterday were from her tribe, it's probably better if she doesn't return. Actually, if there are more of these bastards out there, her cards are bad anyway.

Frustratedly, Katsuki groans and throws his cooking utensils on the ground. His dragon looks over at him curiously. "What'cha looking at?", he mumbles and ruffles his hair. Katsuki stares into the flames of his bonfire pondering on what to do. Eventually, he jumps up and whistles at his dragon. Within seconds, they are in the air.

Katsuki steers his dragon to fly low above the treelines. He keeps his eyes on the ground, looking out for y/n. They patrol the area for a while until it gets too dark to see and Katsuki is sure he wouldn't be able to see the woman even if she was directly beneath them. He turns his dragon around and sets course towards his camp when he sees the flickering light of a fire in a short distance. "Gotcha.", Katsuki smirks and steers the beast towards the light.

With a rumble, the dragon's feet touch the ground. Y/n is kneeling in front of a small fire. Clearly, the woman has not been paying attention as she pushes herself back from the giant monster in front of her. Katsuki slides off its back and stomps towards her. "What the fuck are you doing?", he yells at her. "The whole forest can see you here! Can't believe you managed to stay alive on your own for a whole day.", he continues to scold her. Y/n only looks up at him with a dumbfounded expression. Actually, she might look a little scared.

Katsuki regains composure. He's yelling at a woman who doesn't understand shit. Of course, she's scared. He scoffs. Y/n's campsite is pitiful. Katsuki is surprised that she managed to light a fire on her own. Still, that light could lure in all kinds of nasty stuff. Unsure what to do, Katsuki hovers over her for a moment. Eventually, he tries to grab her. Clearly, the woman has been expecting him to make a move and struggles against him. Katsuki manages to get a hold of her nevertheless, considering he's taller and stronger than her and y/n's mobility is restricted due to her injuries. Katsuki throws her over his shoulder and saunters over to his dragon. He places the woman onto the saddle and climbs up behind her. With a click of his tongue, the dragon rises into the air.

*~*~*

Y/n clings onto the handle of the saddle for dear life and pushes her back into Katsuki's chest. In her lifetime, y/n had little experience with heights. Turns out, she's deadly afraid of them. Maybe it's also due to the gigantic lizard between her legs or the wild, barbarian man who just kidnapped her. However, right now, that man is the only person holding her into place and keeping her from falling to her death.

When they land at Katsuki's campsite, y/n is as pale as a ghost and when Katsuki pulls her off the dragon, her legs give out under her. The man lets out a string of sentences that sound like complaints and drags her over to the fireplace. Y/n tries to regain her composure as she watches Katsuki light up a fire and skin a rabbit. When he starts gutting the animal, y/n turns away in disgust. It's not like she finds the act itself gross. That's something she herself has done multiple times before. It's just that her stomach still feels queasy from the involuntary flight earlier and it's not the most appetizing process in the world.

A headache starts to form when she listens to Katsuki piercing the rabbit with a long stick and roasting it above the open fire. "Why am I here again?", she thinks to herself. It didn't strike her as if Katsuki wanted her around. After all, he left her here earlier today without sparing her a single glance. If he'd wanted her to stay around, he could've made that clear even without saying a word.

Suddenly she feels a nudge in her side. When she opens her eyes, Katsuki holds out a piece of meat to her without looking at her. Y/n is not really hungry but takes the meat anyway. They eat in silence. When they're done, they sit in front of the fire for a little while. Eventually, Katsuki breaks the silence. In a low, calm voice he talks to her. Of course, y/n doesn't understand him but she finds his voice soothing. She wonders how a person can sound so diverse. She finds it a lot nicer when Katsuki talks like that than how he did when he found her earlier. Despite her best efforts, she finds herself getting drowsy. Her eyes start to fall close and her whole body starts swaying. She doesn't notice how Katsuki slides closer to her or how her head hits his shoulder when she falls asleep.

*~*~*

Katsuki's not sure why he moved to catch her head. Also, he's not sure why he went after her in the first place. He runs his hand through his hair. "How annoying", he thinks. He stays at the fire for a little while longer letting y/n rest on his shoulder.

Eventually, he prepares to get up. Slowly, he pulls y/n onto his lap and gets up lifting y/n up with him. He already noticed yesterday how light she was. He wonders if this woman gets enough to eat. Carefully he carries her over to his bedroll. There's not really enough space for two people, so he lets y/n rest on it. He puts his red coat over the woman. Almost gently, he pushes some strands of hair out of y/n's face.

He puts out the bonfire and settles next to his dragon. Leaning against it, he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the dark forest surrounding them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[dovesdreaming]

Tides of jealousy

Summary: Peter Pan and the reader have always understood each other but when Wendy Darling arrives on Neverland, bringing her own spark and spirit, Pan finds himself questioning the one thing he thought he had a firm grip on: your heart. (Readers bi and pan gets jealous)

Requested

Masterlist

Neverland was Peter Pan’s domain, a place where he controlled the rules, and everyone answered to him. Every Lost Boy followed his lead, every creature in the forest feared his shadow. And then there was you his equal, his confidant, his partner in crime and affection. Your presence had always kept Pan grounded, the thrill of your shared chaos as intoxicating as it was comforting. Yet there was a part of you that still held onto the world beyond Neverland, a curiosity that Peter both loved and feared. It was that curiosity that had drawn you to Wendy Darling.

She had been brought to Neverland as a bargaining chip, a pawn for Pan’s games. But Wendy was no ordinary pawn; she was clever and compassionate, and it didn’t take long for her to see through Pan’s manipulations. What he hadn’t expected was how quickly she found a place among the Lost Boys, and beside you.

Peter had noticed it from the start: the way your laughter rang louder when Wendy was near, the shared glances, the whispered conversations. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more. The way you seemed to gravitate toward Wendy or the way Wendy looked at you with wide-eyed admiration.

Peters jealousy was at an all time high when the three of you sat around the fire one night, the Lost Boys already dispersed into their huts or fallen asleep on the ground. Wendy sat beside you, her knees pulled to her chest, her face lit warmly by the firelight. Pan leaned back, arms crossed, watching the two of you closely. Wendy’s voice was soft but animated. “I just... I didn’t think Neverland would be like this. There’s so much more life here than I imagined”.

“Life and danger” Pan remarked, his voice more clipped than intended. You nudged him playfully, a gesture that usually softened his mood, but tonight it barely dented the tension knotting his chest.

“It’s both” you agreed with Wendy, your smile warm and genuine. “That’s why it’s amazing”. Wendy’s eyes lingered on you, and Peter saw the glimmer of admiration there. Or was it something more? His fingers dug into his arms, his jaw tightening.

“I could stay here forever” Wendy said quietly, looking at you rather than the island.

The air felt heavy. Peter’s smile faltered, sharpness glinting in his eyes. “Forever’s a long time, Darling. Especially here”. Wendy’s gaze flicked to Pan’s, startled by his tone. She shifted slightly, her shoulders stiffening. You shot Pan a pointed look, a silent reprimand that only stoked the frustration twisting inside him.

Over the next few days, Pan’s unease grew. He saw it in every interaction, Wendy’s shy smile when you taught her how to shoot an arrow, the way you leaned in close to show her how to set a snare, the way you brushed dirt from her cheek with a tenderness that twisted in his gut. When Wendy began to spend more time with the Lost Boys, Pan thought maybe things would return to normal. Instead, you drifted with her, laughing as you showed her around Neverland, while Peter watched from the shadows.

One evening, he found you both by the lagoon, your heads bent close together as you whispered and giggled. The sound dug into him, sharper than a blade. He approached, his presence breaking the moment. Wendy looked up first, her face bright with excitement.

“Peter! We were just talking about exploring the caves tomorrow. Y/N says they’re incredible”. Peter’s eyes flicked to you, but your expression was unreadable. The uncertainty made his throat tight.

“Funny,” he drawled, forcing a smirk. “I thought the caves were our thing, love”.

You stiffened slightly, catching the edge in his voice. “They still are, Pan. We were just talking”.

“Just talking” he echoed, the forced grin not reaching his eyes. “Right”.

Wendy glanced between the two of you, the atmosphere now heavy and uncomfortable. She shifted awkwardly. “Maybe... maybe I should head back”.

“No” you interjected, your gaze locking with Pan’s. “It’s fine, Wendy”. But she was already retreating, her smile awkward and apologetic. Pan watched her go, his chest aching with something ugly and unfamiliar. When you turned to him, your expression was caught between irritation and confusion.

“What is wrong with you?” you demanded.

“What’s wrong with me?” Peter’s voice was sharper than intended. “Maybe I should be asking what’s going on with you and Wendy”.

You blinked, the accusation hanging heavy between you. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on” Pan snapped. “The way she looks at you, the way you look at her. I’m not blind”.

Realization dawned in your eyes, and you scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Are you actually jealous right now?” Pan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The accusation felt too close, too raw. “Wendy and I are friends” you said firmly. “That’s it”.

“But what if it wasn’t?” The question slipped out, a crack in his defenses. “What if she wanted more? What if you did?”

Your eyes softened, the sharpness of your expression fading. “Peter... I'm with you. I love you. And, yes, I'm bi, but that doesn't mean I want everyone who’s kind to me. It doesn’t change what I feel for you”.

The knot in Pan’s chest began to loosen, replaced by a guilty, aching relief. “I just... I see the way she looks at you, and I thought...”

“I care about Wendy” you admitted gently. “She’s amazing. But she’s not you. She doesn’t know me like you do”.

Peter’s gaze fell, the weight of his fear laid bare. “I thought maybe you’d realized I wasn’t enough. That someone else could give you more”.

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his face, tilting his chin up until his eyes met yours. “No one could ever be you, Peter. No one else could ever matter like you do”. For a moment, the tension hung between you, a fragile, vulnerable thing. Then Pan leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath shaky but steadying.

“Sorry I got jealous” he muttered looking at the ground.

You laughed softly, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I forgive you, Pan. Just... trust me, okay?” And for the first time in a long while, Pan let himself do just that.

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 3: Accidental Stimulation

All Night Long

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, oral sex (m receiving), swallowing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Word count: ~1k

Kinktober Masterlist

"Cut! The lighting is off again. Someone get in here and fix this!" The director is yelling again because the scene doesn't look the way he wants it to. You stand there with your backside pressed up against Elvis as he's supposed to be coaching you on how to shoot a bow and arrow. "We're gonna have to do it again."

"That's fine, I can do this all day!" Elvis hollers and then he whispers in your ear. "And all night."

You giggle and blush and try to pull yourself together before the scene starts again. He's been flirting with you pretty heavily the whole time and you swear if you push your ass back against him you can feel his hard on.

You're giggling so much from his last comment that you drop the arrow. Without thinking, you bend down to pick it up. In doing so, you push up against him again, bent over to almost touch your toes. Elvis instinctively grabs your hips and presses his dick against you. You definitely feel his erection this time.

Standing up quickly, you catch the tail end of his soft moan and whimper. Your panties are drenched from the hours of having him whisper in your ear and casually brush parts of you with his hand. Elvis clears his throat. He's hit the limit of what he can stand.

"Break time!" He yells to no one in particular. The director protests, but he ignores him as he grabs your hand and drags you to his trailer. Literally everyone knows what is about to happen, but they all know better than to say anything.

Once you make it to the trailer and shut the door behind you, Elvis turns and presses himself against you, pinning you to the door and kissing you deeply. He grinds his hips against you and moans into your mouth.

"Nope. Not enough this time." He seems to be saying it to himself more than to you. Still, you're confused.

"Not enough?"

"Normally I'd just rub on you, honey, but you've got me losing my mind. I need to have you. Can I?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." He laughs as you quickly strip off your t-shirt and shorts. Your hands go to the buttons on his shirt and he kisses you as you undress him. He doesn't bother to take his pants all the way off, just dropping them to the floor. You gasp as he literally rips your bra off and tosses it to the side, turning you to face away from him. He yanks your panties down and lets them fall to your ankles, stroking his cock as he looks at you.

"Bend over like you dropped the arrow." He coos in your ear as he holds your back against him. You nod and obey, reaching down and steadying yourself with your hands on the low coffee table. He looks at your pussy from behind, glistening and waiting for him, and grunts. Sliding his foreskin back, he rubs his tip against you, using your arousal to get his dick wet enough. "You ready for me, baby?"

"Mhmmm." You whine, your pussy clenching and eager for him. He holds himself just long enough to push into you and then grabs both of your hips tightly. You hear him groan as he bottoms out, his balls slapping against your clit.

"Fuck, baby, you're so tight. Goddamn." He starts to slam into you from behind over and over and you struggle to maintain your balance, holding onto the table for dear life. The force with which he fucks you has your eyes rolling back as he ruts into you again and again. You whimper and moan softly as the heat of your orgasm begins to gather between your legs while he rams against your g-spot repeatedly. He moans through gritted teeth. "That's right, baby, take this cock like a good girl."

"Elvis! Fuck!" You cry out as your climax washes over you, rushing like wildfire from your center out to your edges and back again. But he doesn't slow down to let you recover; he just keeps pounding you relentlessly as your legs start to shake. You're pretty sure he's going to leave bruises on your hips, he's holding you so tightly as he fucks into you. He grunts again as your eyes start to water from the combination of pleasure and pain while he drives into you aggressively.

"So... close... baby..." Then, he pulls out suddenly and pumps his cock with his hand, but before he can cum on your ass, you turn around and fall to your knees, taking him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck, baby!" He yells as you feel him cum hard in your mouth. You suck it out of him and swallow it down while his dick twitches and throbs. When he finishes, he stumbles backwards and collapses on the couch, his pants still around his ankles. He leans his head back on the cushions and opens his mouth, panting and sweating and trying desperately to catch his breath. You're still on your knees also trying to recover.

"C'mere, honey." He holds his arms out to you and you climb into them and snuggle into his lap as he buries his face in your neck. "We gotta go back out there."

"Yeah, I suppose we should." You try to sit up and he squeezes you again.

"Two more minutes." But as he says that there's a loud knock on the door.

"Hey, uh, EP, the director is really losin' it. You better get out here." It's one of his guys, come to fetch him back to the set. He sighs deeply and pats your bottom. You both stand up and get dressed, putting yourselves back together. Eventually, you make it back out to filming and resume your position with him up behind you. You assume he's gotten all the flirting out of his system with the romp in his trailer, but that doesn't seem to be the case. The director hollers in frustration.

"We're not leaving here until this is done!"

"Fine by me." Elvis shrugs. He whispers in your ear. "I can do this over and over. All. Night. Long."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis

Anybody else want a Kinktober tag everyday?

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[writeroutoftime]

pawns in your game (part 2/2)

part one

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: upon waking up, cassian and the rest of the inner circle are relieved, but it seems there are still some wounds that need healing.

warnings: none, but some conversations that need to happen in ACOTAR canon lol

words: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for all the support and love for part one! sorry for the wait on the second (and final) part, I just had so much trouble! the conversation between you, cass, rhys, and feyre was written like 3 different times lol. anyway, now that it is finished, please enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think! have a fabulous day! '

(also, if you have any other requests for our acotar men, please send them my way!)

oOoOo

Two days passed since Rhys and Cass had their conversation. Neither male spoken to the other since, and word had spread through the rest of the Inner Court over what had occurred. Cass, however, couldn't find it himself to care as he continued to keep vigil over your bedside, only sleeping when he could no longer force his eyes open through the weight that threatened to drag them down.

Suddenly, body feeling as though it weighed a thousand tons, you opened your eyes, groaning at the soft sunlight that streamed into the room. The sheets beneath you felt scratchier than normal beneath your body, and it took a moment to realize you were in the med wing.

You felt a heavy weight in your left hand, and carefully, you shifted your gaze to see Cassian gripped it tightly. His back and wings were hunched over as he slept in what seemed to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Although you were hesitant to wake him, you needed water and to know what had happened, so you shook your hand to wake your mate up.

In response, Cass shot straight up, his siphons pulsed a warning red as if he thought you and he were in some kind of danger. But once his mind and body had more than a moment to react his hazel eyes found yours and widened to the size of saucers.

"You're up!" he shouted, tears lining his eyes. Without thinking, Cass leaned forward and engulfed your body in his, and you didn't miss the way his body shook slightly in relief.

"I'm here, I'm okay." you whispered, running your fingers through his tangled hair. "H-how long have I been out?" you whispered, voice scratchy and rough.

"Nearly a week." Cass explained, pulling away and hurrying to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, drink."

The cool relief of water slipped down your throat, and you already felt better. Sore, you tried to stretch your body out to the best of your ability while trying to recall everything that occurred after leaving the Spring Court manor. "What happened?"

Cass barely held back a growl at the thought. "While you and Rhysand were in the Spring Court, there was an armed guard looking to shoot him with an arrow. But you, being the selfless female you are," Cass chided. "jumped in front of him and were shot with an especially strong dose of poison."

Silence rested between you both, and you could feel the waves of grief that poured down from Cassian's side of the bond. You could only imagine what he must have felt like the past week. If the roles had been reversed, you would have been a mess, tearing apart anything and anyone that got in the way of your wrath.

"I-I think I remember jumping in front of Rhys. He killed the Spring Court solider right away and didn't know what to do. Somehow, he managed to winnow us both back here, and that's all I remember." you admitted.

"That damn bargain." Cass said, growling this time. "We could do the same thing, and then how fucked would the Night Court be."

There was an anger that pulsed from Cass which went deeper than just being worried about his mate. Slowly, you shifted from your spot and moved to sit up against your pillows. "Cass," you began slowly. "what else happened while I was asleep?"

Cassian did not look the least bit guilty as he looked you straight in the eyes. "I told Rhysand off. I told him how I felt about his precious bargain that allows him and Feyre to stay protected while the rest of us suffer the consequences."

An odd feeling washed over you at Cassian's words. On one hand, you can't believe that Cass spoke those words to his brother - to his High Lord. On the other hand, you always felt a small pang of pride that Cassian stood his ground, and yours by extension. But you knew neither of those feelings fixed the larger issue at hand.

"Cass," you started, before he interrupted you.

"I'm not sorry for what I said. It's something we've all been thinking since before Nyx's birth, but, apparently, I was the only one who had the balls to actually say something.

Your teeth caught against your lips, trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh at your mate's words. "I did not protect Rhys because of his and Feyre's bargain, nor because of my oath to him as High Lord." you began carefully. "I did it because he is my friend, and I know he would do the same for me." you confessed.

Cassian was disgruntled at the suggestion. Opening his mouth, most likely to spew more insults against Rhys, you beat him to the punch.

"But," you continued. "I also feel as though sometimes it is overbearing to have to be even more responsible for Rhys and Feyre's survival, especially now that Nyx is involved. I think we need to talk to them." you admitted, motioning for Cassian to rest against you so you could lean your head against his solid shoulder.

The two of you laid there for quite some time before there was a tentative knock at the door. Your High Lord and Lady stuck their heads in, trying to read Cassian's mood. However, Feyre's eyes widened when she noticed your eyes open, and body propped up in bed. A wide smile overtook her face, and she abandoned her mate to rush to your side. 

"You're awake!" she cried, grasping her free hand in yours and squeezing tightly.

Rhys continued to stand by the door, wary of Cass' razor-sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through to his soul. Only the tiniest bit of his guilt alleviated seeing you up after so long. "How are you feeling?" 

"Still sore, but doing alright." you admitted, shrugging your shoulders as though you had merely scrapped a knee.

There was an awkward silence that descended upon the room, and none of you knew how to fix it. Cass pulled you even closer to his side and threaded his hand in yours. Meanwhile, Feyre and Rhys shared a private conversation, silently debating who should be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

"I think we need to talk." you finally began. 

At the same time, Rhys blurted out. "I'm so sorry that this happened, y/n." 

You both stared at one another, really taking the other in. Rhys noted the bandage wrapped around the shoulder where the arrow had met its target. He noticed the way your eyes would flinch in pain whenever you pulled at your muscles wrong and the look of fatigue that overtook your features. From your perspective, it was impossible to miss the dark shadows under Rhys' eyes and the guilt that remained present in his eyes and across his face. 

"I don't blame you for what happened. I hope you know that, Rhysand." you said, squeezing your mate's hand, as you stared straight into Rhys' violet eyes. 

"But I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings. After everything that's happened with Spring, I don't know why I wasn't already expecting something like this to occur. That arrow was meant for me, y/n, and you saved my life." he said, eyes flickering to Feyre for a brief moment, his meaning clear. Rhys cleared his throat, trying not to sound as choked up. "I don't believe it's been said, and you deserve so much more than this, but thank you." 

The words were simple, yet heartfelt all the same. You didn't need to be a daemati to know that Rhys meant every word he spoke. Feyre nodded her head in agreement, sending a message of thanks and gratitude your way. Your heart warmed at the gesture, but a look towards Cassian told you he still was unimpressed. 

"You are my friend, no thanks necessary. Though it is appreciated nonetheless." you smiled. "But," you continued, letting the word hang in the air. "I know little of what happened before I woke up, and it feels like we need to talk about that too." 

The male holding your hand at least had the decency to shift uncomfortably at the thought. Though, he still did not start up any conversation, instead, feeling justified in the words he said to defend his mate - the love of his life. 

Feyre must have been filled in on the details of Rys' and Cass' conversation because a haunted look morphed across her features. "We never meant for our bargain to become a burden on our family." she whispered, staring down at her tattooed hands.  

Cass scoffed at the statement, and you smacked your hand against his chest and narrowed your eyes in his direction. "What?" he protested. "I thought we wanted to have an honest conversation here?" 

"Cass is right." Rhys spoke. "I don't think we every really had a discussion about what this bargain means for us as a family. So," he paused, glancing at Feyre who nodded. "we want to hear how you feel about everything that has gone down." 

"I think it was a fucking stupid idea." Cass spoke up, not caring how it sounded. 

"Harsh, but fair, I suppose." Rhys said with a stilted laugh, trying to ease the tension. 

"I think what Cass is trying to say," you began. "is that, of course, we know what our oath to you as our High Lord and Lady means. But, when you told us about the other bargain, it felt as though the weight of the world fell on our shoulders." 

Feyre reached out to grasp Rhys' hand for support. "Cassian is right, it was stupid on our part. We weren't even thinking when we made that vow." 

"What would you have done, Cassian?" Rhys added, trying to appeal to his brother.

A part of your heart ached at Feyre's words. Turning your head, you gave Cassian a soft gaze and sent a wave of love and adoration down the bond. He and you both knew there wasn't anything the other wouldn't do for you. It could have just as easily been you and he with the death bargain hanging over your shoulders. 

"Love may not always make sense, but that doesn't make it stupid. It's not like Cass and I wouldn't have done the same thing in a moment of high emotions." you admitted. "Though, our deaths don't necessarily lead to the Night Court being thrown into chaos." 

Rhys and Feyre both looked ashamed at the statement. "That is a conversation Rhys and I have had many times. And something we've been planning to share with you all. Soon." she promised, nodding solemnly.

You and Cass both nodded at the sentiment. It was a relief to know all this worrying had not been one-sided all these months. However, Feyre's words did not - nor could not - suddenly fix everything. There was still an acknowledgement of their actions that had yet to be addressed. An acknowledgement of the fear you and the rest of the Inner Circle had felt since and all the sacrifices which had been made.

"Feyre and I see the effort you and Cass have put into keeping us safe, I hope you know that." Rhys offered. "I can't say for certain what will continue to come of this situation, but Feyre and I promise to keep looking for a solution and to make sure you, and the rest of our family, feel heard. I'm sorry it's taken until tragedy struck for us to have this talk." he finished, baring the guilt and fear that had been marring his soul for the past week to you and his brother.

Cass looked his brother in the eyes, holding the stare for a few moments. Your breath stopped as you braced yourself for another blow out, but through your squinted eyes you noticed the way the tension had dissipated from Cass' body ever so slightly.

"It doesn't fix everything," Cass started, and all three of you in the room tensed, waiting for another raging display of anger. "but it's a start." he relented.

The two Illyrians locked eyes, and Cass tightened his grip on you as he and Rhys had a silent conversation. The two knew there would be much more talking and healing that needed to happen first, but eventually you were sure things would turn out all right.

After all, it was a start.

oOoOo

a/n: there it is, part 2! like I said, I was really nervous about posting this, and I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations!

tagging: @captainsophiestark, @eerievixen, @kylaisra, @tele86, @starsinyourseyes, @lisanna2000, @highladyivy

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 7

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Trying to balance good writing with getting out chapters quickly so bare with me!

Content warnings - violence and death, cursing

“It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaims. “Wiress, you’re a genius!”

Katniss explains to the group how the arena works, making you realize that you running into the tribute during the lightning was just a coincidence, and the lightning didn’t always mean danger.

The group decides to go to the cornucopia to survey the arena and test their theory. You would like to grab a weapon but you don’t know if that’s allowed. Katniss already confiscated the arrow she shot you with so all you have is a weak arm and an injured arm.

Finnick walks between you and Peeta, with Katniss behind him. You really need to earn her trust back if you’re going to stay with the group, although, you don’t know how much she trusted you to begin with.

Katniss and Peeta warily eye you as you look through the weapons, trying to find a knife or two. Too many large weapons will just slow you down. You’d rather just have a few knives on you.

“She’s fine,” you hear Finnick tell the pair. “It’s safer for us that she is armed in case we get attacked. She’s already told me she doesn’t want to kill you so I doubt she’ll throw any knives your way. She knows the difference between doing damage in a fight and killing. Just give her space and don’t act so on edge around her. She’s doing her best.”

Katniss lowers her bow but doesn’t make any move to distance herself from you. It seems like the guarding followed you from the capital to the arena.

The group sits down as Peeta draws a map of the arena. Wiress goes down to the water to clean off some wire Beetee got that you assume is for his big smart plan.

“Did you see anything where you went?” Finnick asks you. You shake your head and just point at the lightning Peeta drew on the map.

“Just lightning?” he confirms and you nod your head. Looking at the map, you’re glad you only ended up with lightning. The rest of the jungle looks terrifying.

The group begins chatting about birds in mines when you hear a sudden gasp. You all turn to see Gloss slitting Wiress’ throat. If the capital wanted you to act feral, they were about to get a show.

It happened so fast. Katniss shot Gloss before Johanna threw an axe into Cashmere, killing her instantly. You noticed Brutus and Enobaria going for Finnick and Katniss but you were too far away to stop the knife Enobaria threw from sinking into Finnick thigh. She’s dead.

You charge at her, screaming like a wild animal. She seems ready for your attack, however, and positions herself for your oncoming blow. You collide with her, sending both of you to the ground.

There’s no time to reach for the blade tucked into your belt. You claw at her face, drawing blood, as she attempts to push you off her. She’s successful in rolling the two of you over, putting herself on top. You go to grab for a knife when her teeth sink into your wrist, shooting pain through your whole body. It’s a shock she didn’t bite your whole hand off.

That’s when the cornucopia starts spinning. Enobaria leaps off of you and tries her best to escape with Brutus while the rest of the group is caught off guard by the movement. You clutch onto the rocks with your good arm but you can feel yourself slipping.

Katniss falls off the same time you do, sending both of you into the water. Even with your bad arm, you’re still a better swimmer, so when the water calms you’re able to orient yourself.

You spot Katniss struggling to find the surface a few yards away from you, so you dive back under and swim to her. Bracing yourself for human contact, you grab her arm and start propelling her to the surface. It takes her a second to realize you’re helping, especially with the amount of blood you’re releasing into the water, but she swims with you till you reach air again.

Peeta helps her out of the water, checking to make sure she’s ok. You do your best to pull yourself up but you’re in too much pain. Finnick takes notice and grabs onto you, yanking you onto the rocks.

He doesn’t even have to say what you’re thinking. The bite looks bad. It’s hard to tell if Enobaria punctured the vein in your wrist but you think she did due to the amount it’s bleeding.

“Johanna,” Finnick calls. “Do we have any bandages left?”

“Nope,” she shouts. “The only ones we had went to Volts.”

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to figure out what to do. He uses your knife to cut the arm off your wetsuit, apologizing that he had to cut yours as his was destroyed by the fog. He wraps the fabric tightly around your wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This should work until we can get some sponsors to send us something better,” he states. You shake your head at him. Sponsors wouldn’t send you anything. You were on your own.

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[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 1

(I promise I really did try to stop myself from posting this and have patience but I just couldn't do it!!!)

You and the group, exhausted and starving, search for safety in the ruins of a broken world and find potential refuge in an overrun prison. Amid the constant danger, your bond with Daryl grows, though you remain haunted by the trauma of the last night on the farm.

You

You remember again what true hunger feels like after all this time—the gnawing, aching, painful twisting in your gut that threatens to distract you.

The third house of the day looms before you, a crumbling relic of a life long lost to the apocalypse. You tighten your grip on the knife, holding it up by your ear, moving silently as you creep through the back door. The mudroom greets you with the scent of mildew and decay, and the cracked tiles beneath your feet crunch softly, though the noise feels deafening in your heightened state. Snarling comes from somewhere deeper inside the house, faint but unmistakable. You can tell it isn’t the kind of sound that means the walkers have noticed anyone. It’s that idle, low growl they emit as they wait, like predators with no purpose other than to react when prey comes near.

Your heart rate quickens, but you stay calm, methodical. You’ve done this enough times to know better than to let panic creep in. Months of jumping from house to house, exhaustion clouding every move, not sure what lies around every corner. You learn to push down the fear after a while. It never fully leaves you, but it’s manageable now. 

From another part of the house, you hear bodies thump heavily to the ground—silent but unmistakable. The thud is followed by a brief pause, then nothing. 

Moving into the kitchen, you carefully step over the broken dishes, upturned chairs, and scattered garbage littering the floor. The mess seems like a reminder of how quickly life had fallen apart. People left in a hurry, abandoning everything in a desperate attempt to survive. You glance at the countertop where a calendar still hangs, frozen in time on a date that no longer matters.

The kitchen is eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of the decaying house keeping you company. Taking a breath, you cross the room, your eyes trained on the door ahead. With your knife raised, you brace yourself and throw open the door, immediately jumping back, ready for whatever horror might come charging through.

Instead, your breath catches when a pair of familiar blue eyes meet yours, an arrow aimed directly at you. For a second, you freeze, heart leaping into your throat.

Daryl lowers his crossbow just as quickly, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smile. Scoffing, you follow him as he turns to go down the hallway. You stay close behind, eyes fixed on the back of his head, watching the way he moves with quiet precision, his crossbow back up at the ready. Always careful. Always ready.

As he leans into the doorway of what looks like a bedroom, you catch a glimpse of something unusual. A large bird—a magnificent owl—perches in the window, its enormous yellow eyes staring back at you, wings slowly spreading wide in an attempt to intimidate.

Without hesitation, Daryl raises his crossbow again and shoots the bird, the arrow landing squarely in its chest. It slumps forward, dead before it even knew what hit it.

“A meal is a meal,” Daryl says, already yanking the arrow free and pulling feathers from the owl’s body in preparation.

“Hear me complainin’?” you quip back, though the idea of eating owl doesn’t sit well in your stomach. At this point, though, you’re beyond picky. Anything that fills the gnawing void in your gut will do.

As Daryl works, the sound of a can opener interrupts the silence. You glance over to see Carl, looking young and exhausted, fiddling with the opener on a can of dog food. The others sit around him, watching him mess with it, looks of hollow resignation on their faces. Before he can get it open, Rick strides over, his jaw tight with frustration, and snatches the can from Carl’s hands, tossing it aside without a word. There's a strange tension in the air, the kind that always lingers after too many days without food, without safety.

The group’s exhaustion weighs heavily on you, making everything feel slower, more oppressive. You look around at the forlorn faces of those around you. Lori sits with her hand resting on her stomach, her head tilted back in momentary reprieve. Hershel sits nearby with Beth and Maggie at his side, while Glenn sits with his eyes cast down, his hand wrapped around Maggie’s. T-Dog stands at the window, his eyes scanning the outside world with quiet vigilance. As you glance at him, your gaze shifts past his head, and that’s when you see them—walkers, moving with their lazy, inevitable purpose, shambling closer to the house. T-Dog catches sight of them too. He turns back to the group, his voice low as he makes a quiet “psst,” a signal that instantly grabs everyone’s attention.

In a heartbeat, the atmosphere shifts. Instinct takes over. The exhaustion that had weighed on everyone moments ago disappears, replaced by the sharp edge of survival. Everyone moves quickly, grabbing what they can, the unspoken understanding that you need to leave—now.

Outside, the vehicles wait like lifelines, ready to go. You swing your leg over the back of Daryl’s bike, the familiar rumble of the engine vibrating through you as he revs it up. The wind whips through your hair as he takes off, his back solid in front of you, but there’s no time to relax. Not now. Not with so many so close. A few miles down the road, when everyone seems sure nothing is around, the vehicles stop and people clamber out. Carl immediately goes on watch towards the back, Beth taking to your right, Carol off to the front left. 

Once everyone’s on their feet again, you find yourself standing by Rick and the others, a map splayed across the hood of the Hyundai. The sunlight beats down on you, hot and relentless, as Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog huddle around the car.

“We got no place left to go,” T-Dog says grimly, eyes scanning the map with no real hope.

Maggie is the next to speak up, her voice tight with worry. “When the herd meets up with this one, we’ll be cut off… We’ll never make it out.”

Daryl’s voice cuts through the tension, practical as ever, looking to Glenn, “What’d ya say, about 150 head?”

Glenn squints in the sun as he looks over, trying to calculate. “That was last week… could be twice that by now.”

The words hang heavy in the air as the group exchanges uneasy glances.

There’s more conversation around the map, tension rising with every passing second. Hershel points to a spot where a river cuts through the terrain. “This could delay the walkers some,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Might buy us a little time.”

You shift your weight, leaning against the hot metal of the car as sweat trickles down your spine, soaking into your shirt. The end of summer has brought an unbearable heat in the day and cold nights, and the relentless sun beats down on all of you now. It makes everything harder—thinking, moving, even breathing. The heat feels like it’s closing in, amplifying the suffocating sense of being trapped, surrounded on all sides by herds of the dead.

Your eyes drop to the map, though the lines and roads are starting to blur. It feels like you’ve been running in circles, from one house to the next, never finding enough supplies, never feeling safe for more than a few hours. Every turn feels like it just leads you back to the same dead end—hunger, danger, exhaustion.

As a plan starts to come together, people split up and take a moment to relax by the cars, getting their things in order. 

“Hey,” Daryl growls, his voice breaking through the fog of your thoughts. He’s looking straight at you and Rick, the two of you still hovering in front of the car. “While the others wash their panties, let’s go out and hunt.”

Rick and you meet eyes then, and you nod along, your stomach giving a sharp reminder of how little your lunch had done to fill the void. 

“That owl didn’t exactly hit the spot,” you mutter, heading for the trunk of the car where your rifle rests. Your fingers close around the cold metal, and you feel a strange sense of relief. At least with a weapon in hand, things feel a little more certain, even if it’s just an illusion.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

The train tracks are rusted and overgrown, tangled with weeds and vines from months of neglect. Each step you take along the old rails echoes softly in the still air, the sound barely noticeable over the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. The three of you walk in silence, your eyes constantly scanning the woods, ever-alert for movement—whether it’s game or danger.

The forest feels endless around you, dense and shadowed, the overgrowth reclaiming what was once human space. There’s a quiet tension in the air, the kind that never really leaves anymore, always lingering at the edge of every moment. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of your rifle, ready for anything.

Then, the trees break suddenly, the thick wall of branches and leaves giving way to an open clearing. The sight ahead stops you in your tracks.

A large, imposing structure sits just beyond the clearing—an old prison. Its tall fences and watchtowers rise like dark silhouettes against the sky, but what immediately catches your attention is the movement inside. Walkers. Dozens, maybe more, stagger and shuffle aimlessly within the prison yard, their moans faint but distinct, even from this distance. The chain-link fences seem to hold them in, for now, but the sight is enough to make your skin crawl.

“That’s a shame,” Daryl grunts, squinting as he assesses the situation, his eyes scanning the yard filled with the dead. He tightens his grip on his crossbow, frustration clear in his voice. 

You nod silently in agreement, the potential of a fortified structure like that being overshadowed by the sheer number of walkers roaming the inside. The idea of clearing it out seems impossible.

But Rick remains silent. His gaze is fixed on the prison, his jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimmer in his eyes—a twinkle of something…hope, maybe. Or determination. It’s the look he gets when he’s already starting to formulate a plan, even if the odds seem stacked against him.

You exchange a glance with Daryl, sensing that Rick might see something more than just a lost cause in the wreckage ahead.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

You press your weight against the fence, the chain link rattling under the force as you shove your knife through an opening, right into the skull of a walker. Its snarl cuts off abruptly as it slumps to the ground, but you barely register it. You’re already moving again, feet pounding against the ground as you run through the middle walkway between yard and forest. Daryl stays up front, his torn leather vest flapping in the wind, the angel wings on his back catching the light.

“It’s perfect,” Rick whispers, his eyes scanning the prison yard as you all pause, “If we shut that gate, stop any more from coming in, we can clear the yard.” His voice holds a quiet certainty.

“I’ll go,” Glenn offers, stepping forward, but Maggie immediately shoots him a glare, shutting him down. Glenn stands his ground, though. “I’m the fastest. I can do it.”

Rick’s eyes shift to Maggie, Beth, and Glenn. “No, you, Maggie, and Beth, draw as many as you can over there.” He points toward the far side of the fence around the corner, “Pop ‘em through the fence.”

“Daryl, head back to the other tower,” Rick continues, calling out names and assigning positions, while you stand quietly, waiting for your role. Steady adrenaline keeps you going, buzzing with something inside you. There’s no space for fear, excitement, or even hesitation. This is just survival.

Daryl catches your eye, his gaze quick and searching. It’s a silent check-in, a wordless connection. You give him a short nod, enough for him. Then, he’s off, running toward his position.

One by one, everyone scatters, moving to their designated spots—ready to lure, shoot, and take down walkers. You watch them go, your focus sharp, every movement rehearsed in your head. The gate is key. If it stays open, there’s no winning this fight.

Rick looks around, watching them all head off, and then his eyes land on you. His lips quirk up in the corners, eyes almost apologetic.

You breathe out a chuckle, half rolling your eyes at him, “I’ll run for the gate,” you moan sarcastically, realizing your fate.

“I’m right behind ya,” he chuckles, standing by the fence. It’s such a strange thing– seeing him smile now. Like all his prayers are being answered today.

You hear the others calling for walkers, the sounds of knives piercing skulls and bodies hitting the ground inside the fence. Lori stands by the gate, her face tense as she takes a deep breath, looking at both of you for a moment, then pulls it open just wide enough to let you and Rick through.

You move quickly, quietly, gun raised, knife ready in your other hand. The air is thick with tension, but your movements are automatic now—practiced, efficient. You let your gun fall to swing around your torso by the strap to slash your knife through walker’s heads, a few finding you and Rick more interesting than those along the chain link fencing. Gunshots ring out nearby, and you see bodies falling, but you don’t let it break your stride. Rick is right beside you, both of you sprinting for the main gate. You hear a snarl coming up behind you, but when you turn to take it down, it’s already falling to the earth with an arrow in its head. You look up across the yard and see Daryl in the guard tower, his eyes on you. You throw him a quick nod again, thanks , and take off.

When you reach the inner fence, you quickly tie a cord to secure the entrance, your fingers working fast as Rick kicks down a walker that got too close. Without missing a beat, he pulls you toward the center guard tower, and you follow him up the narrow stairs, your breath steady despite the chaos below.

At the top, you finally pause, glancing down at the sea of walkers in blue jumpsuits. Their lifeless movements seem almost surreal from this vantage point. When you look over at Rick, you notice something that catches you off guard—a smile. A genuine, wide smile spreads across his face, a rare sight these days. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, almost disbelieving, and before you know it, the two of you start shooting down the walkers below, one after another.

One by one, they hit the ground. The smiles on everyone’s faces are priceless. For the first time in months–months, you hear laughter. A small part of you recognizes this rare moment of relief too, letting your tense shoulders fall in celebration. Daryl is waiting for you when you reach the bottom, moving toward you with a quiet kind of confidence. Without saying a word, he hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you close so that your head fits into the crook of his elbow. He kisses the top of your head, a gesture that feels grounding, steady. 

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

Later that night, everyone is gathered around the firepit, the orange glow flickering against tired faces, and you and Daryl are stationed on watch atop a truck that was flipped onto its side to block the gated entrance out of the field. Your legs dangle down by one of the tires, your rifle resting across your lap. You sit quietly, feeling the weight of the night but enjoying the quiet– just the rhythm of breathing and waiting. Daryl’s footsteps sound behind you, pacing back and forth along the metal of the truck, eyes sweeping the area, always alert.

You watch Rick make his rounds, occasionally catching sight of him when he passes through the inner fence. It’s almost mechanical now, his path well-worn as he loops around again and again. He’s passed three times already. For a moment, the space feels surreal—so much room to breathe, and yet the tension still lingers just beneath the surface.

A hand appears beside you, and you glance down to see Carol’s face, her eyes alight with a small smile. Daryl must have noticed her at the same time, because he leans down and helps her up onto the side of the truck with a grunt of effort. 

“It’s not much,” she says, handing you and Daryl a few scraps of meat, “but if I don’t bring you anything, you won’t eat at all.”

You give her a quiet nod of thanks, accepting your share. The meat is dry, but it’s something.

“I guess little Shane over there’s got quite the appetite,” Daryl grumbles between bites, nodding toward the group around the fire. You immediately avert your eyes, your fingers tightening slightly around your lap. You try to drown out the conversation, forcing yourself to focus on anything else—the distant crackle of the fire, the rustling of the trees outside the fence—anything to stop the memories from creeping in.

You can hear the teasing tone in Carol’s voice, “Don’t be mean,” but as she continues, she gets quieter–serious, “Rick’s gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would. I’ll give ‘em that.”

Daryl grunts in agreement, chewing on his food.

“Shane could never do that,” she adds quietly, her tone shifting.

The name catches you off guard again, and your stomach twists, though you try to push the feeling away. You gulp down what’s left of your food and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to stifle the wave of nausea creeping in.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asks, his voice low, though Carol doesn’t seem to notice the look on your face as she rubs her neck. But he’s not talking to you, he’s looking at her. You manage to open your eyes after the wave of uneasiness passes, and look up at them.

“The rifle,” Carol mutters, her hand gripping the side of her neck, “The kickback—guess I’m just not used to it.”

Daryl finishes licking the last of the juice from his fingers, then invites her over with a simple wave. He puts down his crossbow and begins kneading her shoulder, working out the tension in her muscles. You sit there, watching, feeling almost like you’re observing from the outside. His hands move with practiced ease, and Carol smiles back at him, teasing warmth in her eyes.

She turns her head, grinning. “Wow, Daryl, that was pretty romantic,” she says with a mischievous twinkle, “you hitting on me now? One girl not enough for ya?”

“Pffft…” Daryl rolls his eyes, clearly ignoring her, though a flicker of a grin crosses his face. He’s about to dismount the truck when he adds, “I’ll go down first.”

Carol, with a playful smirk, looks to you and winks, “Even better!”

A twinge of humor finally breaks through, and you can’t help the laughter that escapes you as you chuckle with her. Daryl’s face flushes brick red as he helps Carol down from the side of the truck, his hands gripping her sides briefly before letting go the moment her feet hit the ground. She heads off towards the group around the fire, leaving the two of you.

You go to get down yourself, but he stands in front of you, his arms up, waiting. “I got it,” you say, waving him off.

“I know,” his voice quiet, but his fingers twitch to beckon you down. You give him a small smile, and allow him to take you in his arms as you make your way down to the ground. His hands remain on your sides even when your feet find the grass below, and you find yourself holding onto his elbows for support, both of you lingering in that space.

There’s an unspoken moment between you, the air thick with something unsaid. You hang there, waiting for what he might say next, aware of the quiet tension settling in his features.

“You know,” he begins, his worried expression breaking into a small smile playing on his lips, teasing, “I’m still all yours,” 

“Good to know,” you murmur back, not really sure what else to say, but your lips twitch up playfully at his flirting. The way he’s looking at you makes it a little easier to be present, even if just for a moment.

Daryl’s lips quirk into a grin, satisfied with your reaction, even if it’s brief. He shifts, moving to walk along the side of the truck next to you, the two of you side by side now.

“Can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m strayin’,” he teases lightly, his tone playful but gentle, almost like he’s testing the waters.

You glance at him again, another small laugh slipping out, even if you don’t fully feel it. It’s enough to lighten the mood, and for now, that’s enough. He takes your hand, his rough calluses a comfort you’d come to love scraping your skin. He tugs you forward, towards the group. Where you could hear Beth singing.

But since it has so ought to be 

By a time to rise and a time to fall 

Come fill to me the parting glass 

Good night and joy be with you all 

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

Daryl

She hadn’t smiled in months. 

Not a real smile, anyway. Sure, he’d gotten some laughs out of her, but they weren’t the kind that came from within– a true, belly laugh. It was more like a quick puff of air, almost like a scoff, like the sound escaped before she could even stop it. But those smiles, the ones that used to light up her whole face– Gone. He missed that. He missed the way her eyes used to shine when they’d tease each other, trading jabs and grins like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, her smiles never touched her eyes. They were always distant now, like her mind was a million miles away. And damn if that didn’t tear him up inside.

It had been months since they’d felt any real safety, and maybe that was part of it. Being on the run, never knowing if you’d have a place to sleep or if walkers would come through at night—it wore on everyone. Constantly watching your back could drain a person’s spirit, and he figured maybe that had something to do with the change in her. But deep down, he knew better. This wasn’t just about the lack of safety. This was about that night on the farm. What Shane had done. What she had to do. Daryl hadn’t been there in time to stop it, and even though she survived, something in her had changed.

Daryl wasn’t good with words. Never had been. And when it came to asking her what was really going on, he figured he didn’t even have a clue where to start. He didn’t want to push her—didn’t know if he should. But every time he caught her staring off into the distance, or going through the motions like she was just surviving, it hit him like a gut punch. Something was broken inside her, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

So, he did what he always did—he stayed. Quiet, steady. Right by her side. If there was one thing he was good at, it was being there. Being solid when everything else fell apart. He didn’t need to know the right words, not really. Words had never mattered much between the two of them anyway.

He wasn’t gonna give up on her. Not now. Not ever.

But damn, he missed that twinkle in her eyes. Missed the way she used to jab him in the ribs with her elbow, flashing him that teasing smile that made everything feel lighter. He wondered if that part of her was ever coming back, or if the world had taken it from her for good.

He glances over at her now, sitting a few feet away, the firelight dancing along her features, fingers idly tracing the edge of her gun. She looks lost in thought, far away from him, from the fire, from the group. He isn’t sure how to reach her, but hell, he was gonna keep trying, even if it meant standing next to her in silence for the rest of his damn life.

[kazcreates]

Hunger Games AU

I’m rewatching the Hunger Games, which means you all have to see as I throw yet another HG AU into the world. No, there are not enough already.

Kaz Brekker won his games at 13 years old. He’d volunteered for his brother, Jordie. Jordie had been 17, just about to age out of Reaping age. And yet, his name had been called when those papers were drawn from that stupid glass bowl. Kaz’s name had been in there 53 times, Jordie’s only 10. Despite being the runt of the litter, even in the Barrel District, Kaz had volunteered. And he’d won. He fought like a wild dog, with his nails and teeth. When they pulled him out and crowned him Victor, he’d thought at very least that he’d be going home to his brother. That all of it would have been worth it. He arrived back home to an empty house and an unmarked grave. He’d torn the house to pieces, leaving hardly more than its four walls intact. It had been home for a Victor, and Kaz hadn’t felt like he’d won much of anything. He became a mentor after that, and a good one too. But the Capitol never did quite trust him.

Inej Ghafa won her Games the following year. She was Kaz’s first tribute; although she had not technically been born in his District, her name had been reaped all the same. She had refused to fight, those first few days in the training center. Kaz hadn’t forced her. But he showed her what would happen to her if she chose not to fight. Recordings of the Games were kept for tributes to study, and he had not spared her any detail, had not allowed her to look away from the screen. She agreed to learn how to use a knife after that. She spent most of her Games hiding. Well, maybe that wasn’t the right word. She was not hiding, not out of fear, she was stalking. Tributes would fall with silver knives sticking from their throats, knives that had seemingly come from nowhere. She’d suffered at the hands of the Capitol after being crowned Victor. No one could deny the Capitol their darling.

Jesper Fahey was Kaz’s second tribute. A farm boy with a knack for shooting. There were no guns in the Games, that’d make it too easy, but he could shoot an arrow well enough. Kaz trained him hard, even harder than he’d trained Inej. Because while Inej could rely on her ability to disappear, Jesper was difficult to hide. The Capitol enjoyed his charismatic jokes, which helped Kaz get him enough sponsorships to win him the Games. The life of a Victor didn’t suit him and his father, but the gambling halls kept his mind off the memories.

Nina Zenik was the District One tribute during the following year, which happened to be a Quarter Quell. She was trained to kill since she was a child. They’d supressed her powers before letting her loose in the arena. It would be unfair to put a Grisha against Otkazat'sya. Not that she’d needed luck. A begrudging alliance formed between the careers, just like every other year. But this year was different. This year, the last two standing, regardless of district, would go home Victors. She’d taken a liking to Matthias Helvar, despite the fact that he seemed very keen on betraying her, and was determined to win with him by her side.

Matthias Helvar was the District Two tribute during the Quarter Quell. He’d been trained to leave no survivors, regardless of District. The Quarter Quell would allow two Victors, and he was determined to go home with the second District Two tribute. He didn’t know her, but she was Fjerdan, he didn’t need to know her. Allowing Nina to watch his back, he’d planned to betray her once the numbers had dwindled. He hadn’t calculated falling for the District One tribute. They were both crowned Victor, and became mentors in their respective Districts. Matthias avoided Nina as much as he could, the guilt of losing his district partner to save the life of a Grisha weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Wylan Van Eck was Capitol-born through and through. He had grown up oblivious to the struggles of the Districts. But when he had been deemed a disappointment by his father, he was forced into becoming a stylist for the Games. He worked with the tributes from the Barrel District. As a stylist, he was forced to watch the Games, watch the violence and brutality. He’d watch alongside Kaz as the tributes fell. If the Bastard of the Barrel was feeling particularly charitable, he’d tell Wylan when to close his eyes and avoid the worst of it. He wanted the Games gone, but with a Gamemaker as a father, he didn’t have much of a choice but to do what he was told, unless he wanted to end up in the arena too.

[genshinluvr]

Predator vs. Prey

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You're put to the test on how well you can escape in case people are hunting you down. Your trial was going well in the beginning until you ran into the predators the men are training you to run away from.

Note: To be honest, I couldn't come up with a good title for this fic. I went with what it was supposed to be about and ran with it. I think this fic or the concept of Predator vs. Prey is a good smut idea, but I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever make it into a smut. I did have an idea for Childe that is similar to this but Halloween themed, but I never made it. If anyone wants me to make a fic for Childe with a theme like this, let me know in the inbox, and maybe I'll make it a Halloween mini-fic for him. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: There is some action scenes in the middle (maybe close to the end) of the story. Reader gets injured, but it's nothing major.

Word Count: 7.1k

Trees around you whip in your face as you dash through the trees of Sumeru. You’re running as fast as you can, and somehow, it’s not fast enough. Sweat drips down your face, your heart punches against your chest, and your legs feel like they’re about to give out from underneath you. An arrow whizz past your face, forcing you to come to an abrupt stop before running in another direction.

They’re out to get you, and they almost succeeded. You can’t let them win because if you did let them win, you don’t know what the consequences are going to be. Your lungs are on fire, and you swear you can taste blood in your mouth when you take gulps of air. The air is heavy, the sun is high in the sky, and the trees towering over you do little to nothing to shield you from the burning rays. 

Footsteps are fast approaching, causing you to turn around to check and see how close they are to getting you. Because you were distracted, it led to you getting tackled from the side. You and the person crash to the ground. Your ears are ringing, and your vision blurs. You want to push the person off you, but you’re so tired, and you can barely lift your head up to see who tackled you to the ground. 

“Aha! Gotcha!” The person proudly exclaims, pinning you to the ground by straddling your hips.

The people chasing after you stop before you and the person above you. They’re all panting, hands propping on their hips while trying to catch their breaths. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision. The person pinning you to the ground is smirking at you. You push the person off you and prop yourself up on your forearms, gulping as much air as you possibly can. 

“Alright, you win. Now, can you please get off me? It’s really hot, and my clothes are sticking to my skin,” you say.

Dainsleif takes a step forward and crosses his arms over his chest, looking at you with disapproval. “You were distracted. If you weren’t distracted, Itto wouldn’t have tackled you to the ground,” Dainsleif says.

“Hey! It’s not my fault for being distracted! I didn’t know that Childe was going to be shooting arrows at me while I ran for my life!” You said, pointing at the ginger Harbinger.

Childe walks over to the arrow sticking out from the tree before the bow and arrows disappear from thin air. Childe walks back to the group, his hands by his side while snorting at your comment. Childe wipes the sweat from his forehead before taking his gray jacket off, fanning himself with his hand. 

Childe clears his throat. “Listen, when you’re in this situation, many things will be going on around you! I’m just preparing you for the worst-case scenario!” Childe says, holding his hand in front of him as if he’s surrendering. 

You stare at the ginger Harbinger, not saying a word. That arrow almost cut your face, and he’s acting like he didn’t do anything wrong?! Well, he technically didn’t do anything wrong. Like what Childe said, he’s preparing you for the worst-case scenario, and he did pretty well! You didn’t get distracted by the arrow flying past your face, thankfully. 

“You should also learn to dodge arrows. Who knows what could have happened if you didn’t dodge the arrows,” Gorou comments, walking up to you and Itto.

Gorou holds his hand out for you to take. Itto gets off of you, wiping the bead of sweat from his forehead. You grab Gorou’s hand and get off the ground, wiping the dirt and grass off your clothes. You look down at your white pants, groaning internally. The grass stains on your white pants are going to be a pain in the ass to get off. Those things are stubborn to get off.

You look at Gorou, none of you letting go of each other’s hands. “And how do you expect me to dodge something sharp? You know what happened last time I tried to dodge something sharp,” you sigh in defeat.

Al Haitham chuckles, shaking his head. “That we do. You got an uneven haircut that day,” Al Haitham comments.

You untuck your hair from behind your ears and point at the chunk of hair that’s shorter than the rest. You press your lips into a thin line, not saying anything. Everyone slowly turns to look at Venti, who’s rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. Venti thought it’d be a great idea to have you stand in front of the dummies and try to dodge the arrows he was shooting at you. It went well at first, but then more people decided to join in, and that resulted in you having an unwanted haircut. 

It wasn’t entirely Venti’s fault, but he did suggest it. You agreed to it without hesitation because you were curious to see how good of a reflex you have. Needless to say, it’s decent but not good enough to save you from that haircut.

“Anyway, is this test really necessary? You know I hardly leave the abode unless I have to go to school or when we have reservations,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Diluc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, it is necessary. Danger is lurking around every corner of Teyvat. Since you’re our significant other, you’re more at risk of having a target on your back for being associated with us,” Diluc replies.

Recently, your boyfriends think it’s best to test your stealth. They put you through a series of tests, and so far, you have done fairly decent on these trials. Your beloveds learn that you’re great at sneaking around, and you’re great at sneaking around because you always sneak downstairs to grab a snack at three in the morning. Since you don’t have summer classes, you stay up late with your boyfriends.

While you’re great at sneaking around, you can’t sneak from Tighnari, Itto, and Gorou because those three have a keen sense of hearing. Mainly Tighnari and Gorou. When your stealth trial started in Mondstadt at the Stormterror’s Lair, those two were able to track you down while listening to every little noise you made. 

Ayato approaches you and hands you a bottle of water. “Make sure to hydrate. This isn’t the end of your trial,” says Ayato.

You take the bottle of water from Ayato’s hands and chug the water. You’ve been outside in Sumeru for who knows how long. You assumed that you failed the first round because Itto tackled you to the ground while you were distracted. At least, you’re pretty sure it was the first round. You ran through the forest of Sumeru for a while, and the men told you to run without looking back. They’ll start chasing after you and throwing obstacles in your way a minute after you run into the forest. 

Having twenty-five people chase after you, shooting arrows in your direction along with blowing gusts of wind in your way as you try to escape was thrilling but also terrifying. The possibility of you getting hurt is high, but it’s also something you’re going to have to deal with if someone were to hunt you down. 

You gesture to the men, wiping the corner of your lips. “What are we going to call this test? Is it a speed test or what?” You ask while closing the water bottle and leaning up against the tree.

“Predator versus Prey! That is what we should call it!” Venti comments, nodding his head happily.

You blink at Venti before scratching your cheek. That would be a fitting name for what you’re being put through, but at the same time, it sounds like a kink. A primal fetish. You pursed your lips and began looking around, scratching the back of your neck. Should you tell Venti, or should you keep it to yourself and act like nothing inappropriate popped up in your mind a few seconds ago?

Xiao narrows his eyes at you. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

You shake your head, uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There’s no way you’re going to tell them, or else one of them will want to do it. Kink aside, you like the feeling of having to run away from something. You’re awful at hunting something or someone down, but having someone chase after you? 

“I can see steam coming from your ears. Are you sure you’re okay?” Aether asks, approaching you and pressing his gloved hand against your forehead.

You brush Aether’s hands away and nod. “Yeah! I’m fine, Aether. Don’t worry about me,” You lie, giving the blond a fake smile. 

Yeah. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be telling anyone of them about you liking the thrill of being chased. You didn’t mind being chased as long as you knew that person and as long as you were not in actual danger. Therefore being pursued and hunted down by your twenty-five handsome boyfriends is thrilling! But being hunted and chased down by Eremites and Treasure Hoarders is something you never want to experience ever. Unless… unless… actually, you know what? Forget it. 

You squeeze the water bottle in your hands. “I know Ayato said that this isn’t the end of my trial, but is it the end of my trial for today, or are we going to continue after the water break?” you ask, brushing your strands of hair away from your face.

The men look at one another, silently communicating with each other. You cover your mouth and yawn, already feeling the exhaustion catching up to you. You don’t think you can go on any longer if you’re feeling exhausted. Still, like Childe said previously, many things can happen. It’s not like the people hunting you down are going to let you rest before continuing the chase. Although that would be hilarious if they did let you rest. 

“As much as we would like to continue the test, we think it’s best to stop here for today,” Thoma answers.

“For your sake and for Baizhu’s sake,” Tighnari comments, pointing his thumb over in Baizhu’s direction.

Oh, fuck. You should have remembered about Baizhu. Everyone’s heads whip toward Baizhu’s direction to see the poor doctor doubling over while trying to take deep breaths without collapsing. Changsheng sits prettily around the green-haired man’s shoulders, whispering something to the doctor. Heizou and Kazuha rush to Baizhu’s side and wrap his arms around their shoulders, helping the man stand up.

“Are you alright, Doctor Baizhu?” Kazuha asks, gazing at Baizhu worriedly. 

Heizou points at the fallen tree before the two anemo vision holders assist the green-haired man to the tree. Baizhu sits on the tree, gulping air as he tries to calm his racing heart. You run your hands through your hair. How could you forget that Baizhu can’t run due to his illness? After a few minutes of silence, Baizhu clears his throat.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to worry any of you,” Baizhu says, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red with embarrassment and shame.

You approach the man and sit beside him. Seeing Baizhu having to apologize for something he has no control over makes you upset. You frown, placing your hand on the small of his back and gently rubbing his back. “Baizhu, you don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Baizhu sighs and rests his cheek on your head after you scoot to sit closer to him, wrapping an arm around his slim waist. Baizhu sits straight and coughs into his right elbow, wincing when sharp pain shoots up his chest. Baizhu squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, placing his hand on his chest.

Heizou sighs, propping his hands on his hips while looking at the others. “We should head back to the abode for Doctor Baizhu to rest and take his medications. [Y/N] needs to rest as well before tomorrow,” Heizou says.

Everyone returned to the abode, and now you’re in the infirmary with Baizhu, Albedo, Dottore, and Tighnari. Usually, Baizhu prescribes himself medications, but Albedo, Dottore, and Tighnari insist on doing it on Baizhu’s behalf. You weren’t sure if Baizhu didn’t protest because he didn’t want to cause a scene or if Baizhu was too tired to argue back.

“You know, Doctor Baizhu. As a doctor, you should know that health is important. But it seems like you put [Y/N]’s test over your health instead,” Dottore comments, turning to look at the green-haired doctor while leaning against the counter with his arms over his chest.

Baizhu doesn’t respond, only sighs in response and lies on the examination table. You sit on the edge of the examination table and brush his hair away from his face. Baizhu smiles at you weakly as you caress his face, stroking his pale cheek with your thumb. Baizhu places his hand over yours, wrapping his fingers around your hands before bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a light kiss on your knuckles. 

Albedo sighs and glares at Dottore from the corner of his eyes. “Scolding Doctor Baizhu is the last thing you should be doing, Dottore. I don’t understand how someone uncompassionate like you is even in the field of medicine,” Albedo mutters, walking past the Harbinger to give Baizhu his medication. 

“He’s not even a real doctor. The title was just handed over to him,” Scaramouche interjects from the entryway.

You look at the door to see Scaramouche leaning against the door frame with his arms over his chest. Dottore glowers at Scaramouche, who ignores the icy-blue-haired Harbinger before entering the room with a sigh. You and Tighnari help Baizhu sit up while Albedo hands Baizhu his medication with a cup of water.

You, Dottore, Albedo, Tighnari, and Scaramouche ended up leaving Baizhu at the infirmary to go downstairs to where the others are waiting for the five of you. Baizhu wanted to rest in the infirmary for a little longer before returning to his bedroom. Archons, you’re not mentally or physically prepared for tomorrow’s test. Your legs feel like jelly, and you’re worried you might collapse mid-test and roll down a hill. 

“So, what do you guys want to talk to me about?” You ask, sitting on the couch between Kaveh and Cyno.

Cyno looks at the others, turning to look at you. “We’re going to meet up in the usual spot where the test was held, but we will not go there with you,” Cyno says.

You blink at the Mahamatra and then at the others, who nod in agreement. You expect there to be someone protesting about you going to the location alone. Still, shockingly enough, no one objected to the idea. You squint your eyes at the men, leaning back in your seat and crossing your leg over the other. They’re up to something. You know they are, and when they devise something together, it’s never good. They all stare at you, waiting for your response. How else are you supposed to reply exactly?

“All of you came up with this plan while Albedo, Tighnari, Dottore, Baizhu, and I were in the infirmary?” You ask, wanting clarification from the men before you.

Kaveh nods. “That’s correct! We came up with this plan while the five of you were in the infirmary,” Kaveh replies, scratching the back of his neck.

You nod slowly, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. If the majority of the men came up with this plan while the other four men were in the infirmary, then technically, everyone didn’t really come up with this plan. It was twenty-one men that put this plan together while the others were occupied with something else.

Kaeya nudges your foot to get your attention. “If you’re wondering how we came up with this plan while the five of you were occupied with something, we came up with this idea while giving you a head start before we started chasing after you in the forest,” Kaeya explains, sending a wink your way.

Thaaaat makes more sense. Right, how could you forget about that? You purse your lips, nodding. Okay, so you will be going to the site alone tomorrow. Does that mean the men will be waking up before you or after you? Either way, you’re not prepared for tomorrow because your legs feel weak and sore. You’re hoping your stamina will be slightly better than what it currently is and that your legs won’t betray you mid-test.

“Any other questions you have for us before we dismiss you?” Pierro asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You hold up a finger. “One question… well, two questions. What’s Baizhu going to do while this test is happening?”

“We’re not entirely sure. What we do know is Baizhu will not be participating in chasing after you through the forest due to his illness,” Zhongli replies.

Pantalone props his arms on Zhongli’s shoulders. “And what’s your other question, butterfly?”

You open your mouth to ask, but your mind goes blank. You stare at Pantalone and Zhongli, letting your hand fall on your lap. Fuck. What was the other question you wanted to ask? You sigh, falling back on the couch and closing your eyes. Pantalone and Zhongli glance at each other, unsure of what to say.

“Are you going to ask the second question?” Capitano asks.

Archons, you can almost hear the man raise his eyebrows at you after asking that question. You huff, sit up and grab a throw pillow nearby before hugging it to your chest. You think long and hard, trying to recall what your second question was. Of course, nothing came to mind. 

Diluc pushes himself off the wall he’s leaning on and begins walking up the stairs. “This is a sign for [Y/N] to go to their room and rest,” Diluc says, continuing up the stairs.

You stand abruptly, grabbing the others' attention. “I remember now!” You exclaim, clapping your hand. “Will we leave the abode at the same time or at different times?”

“We will be leaving at different times. We need to leave early to prepare your trial, but we will have your breakfast prepared for you on the table,” Thoma interjects, smiling at you.

You nod. Alright, that’s probably the only question you have for the men. Baizhu won’t be joining the trial, and the men will be leaving the estate early in the morning to prepare the things for your trial. You get off the couch and bid the men goodnight (with hugs and kisses) before walking to your bedroom to take a shower and go straight to bed after finishing your shower. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and you need to get as much sleep as you can. Once you finished your shower and changed into clean underwear and clothes, the minute you lay on your bed, you were out like the light.

Like a blink of an eye, it’s already the next day. You wake up to your alarm blaring in your ears, and you immediately leave your bed to get ready for the trial. Despite sleeping for a long time and through the entire night, you feel like you barely slept. Almost like you were constantly moving around on your bed, fixing your pillow, trying to find the comfiest sleeping position to sleep in, only to lay in bed and have your eyes closed for eight hours or more. It was terrible, and you’re worried you won’t be able to focus on your trial and that you’ll disappoint your boyfriends. Granted, they would rather have you well-rested than run in the forest with less than two hours of sleep. 

Just when you’re about to step out of the estate, a voice calls out to you, “Ah, ah, ah! Can’t forget about your water now.”

You turn to see Baizhu approaching you with your water bottle in his hand. Baizhu holds the water bottle out to you, smiling at you. You grab the water from Baizhu’s hands, smiling at him. Baizhu looks ten times better than how he did yesterday. You’re glad Baizhu didn’t leave with the men while in terrible shape. You’re unsure if he’s doing well now. Still, since he looks better compared to yesterday, you’re assuming the man is doing better than before. You notice a note attached to your water bottle. You grab the letter and tear it off the bottle before reading it to yourself. 

“Good morning, dearest! While Baizhu will not be joining us in this trial, he will be on the sidelines, watching everything go down. He will be there to treat any injuries in case people get injured! We didn’t want you to go to the spot alone, so Baizhu offered to keep you company!”

It seems like Baizhu will be coming along! At least you won’t be alone when you’re traversing to the location where the trial was held the day before! It’s great to have someone accompany you, and you won’t be bored or lonely on your way there. Baizhu holds his arm out for you to take. You link your arms around Baizhu’s arms, and the two of you set off to the location the day before.

The travel was short, but there was never a dull moment between you and the green-haired Doctor. You two talked about each other’s childhood, trading laughter and gossip about the people closest to you two (mainly family or close friends). Upon arriving at the location, you unlink your arms, and Baizhu sets a chair down under the shade, the Serenitea pot floating beside him.

“Are you sure you want to sit there? Why not sit somewhere that has bigger shade?” You say, gesturing toward the forest.

Baizhu doesn’t reply and continues to sit under the shade he found outside the forest. You sigh and uncap your water, taking a light sip of it. You’ve thought about chugging the water, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to hold your bladder if you drink too much of the water.

“If anything happensssss, do let usssss know, and we will come and get you. The otherssssss will not be pleasssssed if their most treasured person isssss injured,” Changsheng says, perching on Baizhu’s shoulders.

You smile at Changsheng and stroke the top of her head. “Will do! If anything happens and none of you are able to hear me, I will call Xiao,” you said.

The white snake nods before resting on Baizhu’s shoulders, closing her eyes. You give Baizhu a light squeeze on the shoulders. Before you enter the forest, Baizhu stands suddenly and wraps his arms around your shoulders, kissing your cheek. You stand on the tip of your toes and kiss his jaws and rub his back.

Baizhu walks you to the edge of the forest, holding your hand. You and Baizhu trade a small kiss before departing. You walk into the forest while Baizhu is at the entrance, watching your every move. Once you have disappeared from his sight, Baizhu returns to his seat under the shades next to the Serenitea pot. 

You start your trail by walking into the forest. So far, nothing was happening, and therefore, you didn’t see the need to run. Unless you hear rustling, rapid footsteps approaching you, or an arrow flying by your face, you will be walking for the time being while staying alert. Everything is fine and going well so far. Although the strange thing about today’s trial is that no one has started chasing after you, and it’s starting to make you feel on edge.

“I don’t like where this is going,” you mutter.

Yesterday, before your trial, Tighnari and a few of the men went into the forest and marked the trees and trails so you and the other men wouldn’t get lost while trekking through the forest alone. You’re glad they did that because if they didn’t do that, you would’ve gotten lost and probably freaked out about it. 

You can feel eyes on you as you walk through the thick forest of Sumeru. You’re hoping that it’s the men that are keeping their eyes on you and not someone (or something) opposite. You close your eyes and try to listen to your surroundings. The only things you hear are birds chirping and a rush of water from a distance. No footsteps, no rustling of the grass or bushes to signify that someone was approaching you. 

SNAP!

Without hesitation, you duck into the nearest bush and peek from the leaves, trying to pinpoint the location of where the twig snapping came from. It was loud and clear, and you’re not sure how close the twig snapping was, but it was loud enough for you to know that someone was near.

What’s interesting is that after the twig snapped and you ducked into a nearby bush, you didn’t hear anything else afterward. No footsteps, no chatter, etc. Aside from the occasional chirping and waterfall rushing in the background, it's dead silent. You need to start moving, or else someone is going to catch you before you make it to the finish line.

You slowly leave your hiding spot, trying your best not to make a sound. When you’re out of your hiding spot, you begin your journey through the woods. A black and teal smoke appears out of thin air before you, and an arm reaches out to grab you, but you quickly jump back and begin running in the opposite direction. You’re not supposed to do that, but you want to lose Xiao in the forest before continuing down the path.

Xiao growls and begins jumping from tree to tree above you, appearing in a puff of smoke, trying to grab at you. You don’t think you’ll be able to lose Xiao. Not when the man is dubbed the vigilant Yaksha, who is observant, quick on his feet, and ready to strike at any moment. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have someone as fast as Xiao to chase after you really wanted to see you fail.

“You’re going in the wrong direction!” Xiao screams, continuing to chase after you through the woods.

“No, I’m not!” You yell back, refusing to take your eyes off your path.

You know you’re going in the wrong direction. You’re hoping to lose the Yaksha in the forest and get him off your tail, but it looks like it won’t be happening any time soon. So, you make a sharp right turn and continue down the path the men have marked for you the day prior. A portal suddenly opens in front of you, and an arm reaches out to get you. You skid to a stop before jerking around the portal, squealing with fear. 

“Nice try, Dainsleif! You can’t catch me!” You scream, continuing farther into the woods.

Maybe it’s best for you not to provoke the people that are chasing after you because it’s possible you’re adding fuel to the fire. You know these men are competitive. You haven’t seen any of them today, and the minute they start appearing in the forest, you start provoking them by announcing (more like screaming) that they can’t catch you.

A familiar arrow flies by your face, sticking into the tree you ran by. You stop in your tracks, grab the arrow, and continue running deeper into the forest. You take a quick glance at the arrow in your hands, only to realize that it’s Gorou’s arrows and not Childe’s arrows. Itto cackles from a distance, yelling, “Bam!”

You shriek when something slams into your back, sending you rolling to the ground. Whatever just hit you, it’s heavy and weighing down on you. You roll over on your back to see Ushi bouncing on his feet while mooing. Dammit Itto! You grumble and snatch Ushi from the ground and continue where you left off. 

Itto shrieks, running after you. “Hey! Unhand Ushi! Ushi was supposed to knock you down so I could tag you out!”

“Too bad, so sad! You should’ve thought through your plan before throwing Ushi at me!” You scream, hugging Ushi tightly to your chest while clutching Gorou’s arrow with the other hand.

Gorou screams from a distance, “Get them before they escape!”

A figure swoops down from the tree, attempting to grab you, only to snatch Ushi from your arms. You cackle loudly, tossing Gorou’s arrow to the side while continuing to run for your life. Scaramouche growls loudly, throwing Ushi at Itto, who catches the bull. Itto sighs in relief before continuing on pursuing you. 

Scaramouche huffs, “I almost had them! If it weren’t for that chunky bull, I would’ve caught them by now!”

“Hey! How dare you make a comment about Ushi’s weight!” Itto cries, shaking his fist at Scaramouche before the man floats away where you disappeared off to.

You run as fast as you can, dodging trees in the woods, jumping over tree trunks and vines. Rapid footsteps head in your direction, and screaming and cursing from the men fill the air. You weren’t sure if this was what they had planned the day before, but it was something you didn’t expect. 

You somehow made it to the end of the trail that leads to a clear field. You exit the forest, panting. Your legs give out from underneath you, sending you rolling and tumbling in the middle of the field. You lay on the grass, panting and trying to catch your breath. While the marked trail was short compared to the actual size of the forest of Sumeru, you’re glad you made it out. Although, you’re not sure if your trial is finished. You get off the ground, dust your clothes and turn toward the forest, only to bump into someone.

“Oh, shit! You scared me!” You gasped, pressing your hands against your chest.

You turn to apologize to one of the men, only to freeze. You take a step back and stare at the group of people before you, giving them a wary smile. Eremites and Treasure Hoarders stand before you, readying their weapons and cracking their knuckles. You’re fucked. Oh no. You quickly look over your shoulders to see if the men are behind you, only to see no one. 

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you guys! I was uh… running away from the Rishboland Tigers,” you squeak.

One of the Eremites raises his eyebrows at you. “There aren’t Rishboland Tigers in this particular area. Are you lying to us?” He asks, stepping closer to you.

You sigh. Would it hurt to tell the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders you’re following a trail? You press your lips into a thin line, refraining from telling the Eremites and Teasure Hoarders what you were doing in the forest. The men are training you for a reason. They’re training you in case you run into situations like this when they’re not around, but so far, nothing has happened yet, thankfully. 

Archons, it would be stupid of you to expose the plans the men came up with. You give the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck, and step back. Do these people know what personal space is? 

“Alright, alright. You caught me. I was training for this upcoming race the Akademiya is holding for their students. I want to do well and get the first-place prize,” You lie, sighing in defeat.

The short Treasure Hoarder narrows his eyes at you. “And what is that prize?”

You blink at the man. What? Does he expect the Akademiya to reward you Mora for winning a race that you made up? Plus, even if the Akademiya were to host an event like that, you don’t think the Akademiya would reward Mora. Well, they probably will, but not the amount the Treasure Hoarder is assuming it would be.

You clear your throat. “It’s a scholarship for the upcoming quarter at the Akademiya, along with a trip to the Mausoleum of King Deshret with researchers,” you lie.

A Treasure Hoarder from the back scoffs. “Sounds like a shitty prize if you ask me,” the blond Treasure Hoarder mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Sounds shitty to you because you were rejected by the Akademiya,” the gray-haired Eremite retorts, smirking at the blond Treasure Hoarder.

You purse your lips and subtly take another step back while the blond Treasure Hoarder and gray-haired Eremite start bickering with one another. You begin looking at your surroundings, trying to find a place to escape. You can go back into the forest, but you can’t guarantee the Treasure Hoarders and Eremites won’t follow after you. 

While the Treasure Hoarders and Eremites are distracted with trying to prevent the leaders of their group from getting into a scuffle, you take that as your chance and run back into the forest without looking. One thing you learned from yesterday is not to look back while you’re running, or else that will be one of your downfalls. 

“Hey! Where are you going!?” The Eremite screams.

The blond Treasure Hoarder groans with anger and frustration. “Don’t just stand there! After them, you buffoons!” The blond Treasure Hoarder screams.

You groan and sprint into the forest, hoping you’d run into one of the men. The screams and shouts of the Treasure Hoarders and Eremites follow after you, filling the once-quiet air in the forest. The men haven’t fully prepared you for this situation. If you’re able to escape and lose the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders, great! But the men have yet to teach you on what you should do if you were caught by the two groups. Childe and the other Harbingers have taught you how to use weapons, but alas, you do not have a weapon on your person. You’re fucked. You’re so fucked, and you’re looking everywhere for one of the men, and yet none of them made an appearance after you succeeded in escaping the chase. 

You blindly reach out and rip a tree branch while passing by a large tree. You might as well use the tree branch as a weapon. It’s better to have something to use as a weapon than be empty-handed. An Eremite appears before you out of nowhere, holding his arm out to catch you. You didn’t stop fast enough. Your feet slid on the ground before you slammed into the Eremite. The Eremite wraps his beefy arms around you. You growl and thrash around in his arms, leaning down and biting his arm hard.

The Eremite screams and slams you against the tree, knocking the wind out of you. You wheeze and swing the tree branch blindly, successfully hitting him in the face with the tree branch. The Eremite groans and kicks you in the stomach as you get up from the ground. You stumble and slam against the tree.

You breathe heavily, trying to calm your nerves. Your heartbeat is skyrocketing, and your mind is all over the place. You don’t know whether you should continue to run or fight back. The training took a different turn. You let out a scream, charging at the Eremite, tackling the beefy person to the ground, and begin whacking the Eremite with the tree branch while pulling on his hair with your other hand.

If this is the way you’re going to die, then you might as well make the most of it. The Eremite blindly reaches up to your hair and grabs your hair by the roots before yanking you down. Footsteps approach to where you and the Eremite are rolling around and smacking each other. 

“Take your hands off them immediately!” Someone hollers, grabbing the Eremite by the shirt and yanking him off you.

You roll over and squat, rubbing your cheekbones. You’re going to get a bruise later. The Eremite punched you in the face really hard, and your vision went dark for a second. Gentle hands grab you by the biceps, helping you up from the ground.

“Are you alright?” Aether asks, gazing at you worriedly.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, Aether. It’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” you rasp, rubbing your stomach.

You look up, blinking away the black dots dotting your vision. When your vision clears up, you do a double take and point at the men with your mouth agape like a fish out of water. Your beloved boyfriends aren’t wearing their typical clothing. Instead, half of them are dressed as Eremites, Treasure Hoarders. 

Al Haitham steps forward, grabbing the Eremite by the shirt collar and slamming the Eremite against the tree. You can’t help but admire the beauty that is Al Haitham. Al Haitham is dressed as the Eremite Daythunder. He takes the rich red brocade off his eyes, glaring down at the Eremite, who freezes in fear when they lock eyes.

Al Haitham leans down, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at the gray-haired Eremite. “I’m not one for conflict, but if I catch you or anyone putting their hands on my significant other, then we’re going to have a problem,” Al Haitham hisses, glaring at the gray-haired Eremite.

The Eremite holds his hands in the air while sputtering out, “Hey, hey! We didn’t want any trouble!”

Cyno steps forward, also dressed as an Eremite, glaring at the man. “Oh yeah? If you didn’t want any trouble, then why did you chase [Y/N] into the forest, hm? It seems like you were looking for trouble for me,” Cyno comments, his polearm materializing in his hands. 

Before Cyno can hit the Eremite, a branch swats the Eremite across the face, leaving deep lacerations behind from how hard the branch swiped his face. Cyno and the others look over at you, who toss the branch on the ground. You let out an infuriated sigh, rubbing your temples. It’s hot and humid in the forest, the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders ruined your day, and you’re starting to feel cranky. It’s only best if you’re the first one that takes a swipe at the Eremite.

You turn and start walking away. You turn your head over your shoulders, looking at your boyfriends, the Eremites, and Treasure Hoarders. “Let’s go return to where Baizhu is waiting. I don’t have the time and patience to deal with the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders. But that doesn’t mean none of you are allowed to teach them a lesson or two,” you say.

Childe chuckles, popping his knuckles as he turns to the group of Eremites and Tresure Hoarders. “You didn’t have to tell me twice, snookums,” Childe smirks as his bow appears out of thin air in his hands.

Al Haitham, Zhongli, Itto, Xiao, and Pantalone walk you back to where Baizhu is waiting for you. You notice they’re all dressed as Eremites. You stop in your tracks, turn to face the men, and point at them while looking at them from head to toe. 

“Was this part of the plan? To dress like Eremites and Treasure Hoarders and chase me in the forest?” you ask, propping your hands on your hips.

“We think dressing up would get us into character and put you in the mindset where you think you’re actually being chased by Eremites and Treasure Hoarders, but you didn’t look at us the entire time while running,” Pantalone chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nod, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. “Well, if I recall correctly, I was told not to look over my shoulders while I’m trying to escape from the Eremites and Treasure Hoarders,” you say.

You can’t help but look at their muscular arms. Al Haitham taps your chin to grab your attention. You look up at Al Haitham’s face. He raises his eyebrows at you, a smirk ghosting over his lips. You didn’t know what Al Haitham was smirking at until you realized you were staring at his bare chest in the Eremite Daythunder costume.

Zhongli chuckles while shaking his head. “It seems like if [Y/N] were to be chased by Eremite Daythunders and Eremite Sunfrosts, [Y/N] would get distracted by their physiques,” Zhongli murmurs, looking at the others.

You cover your cheeks with both hands before running toward the exit where Baizhu and Changsheng are waiting. On second thought, maybe you would rather be chased by the Eremites than be teased by your boyfriends for staring at them while they’re dressed as Eremites and Treasure Hoarders. But imagine…. Imagine they chase you around the estate dressed as Eremites, ready to—

“Are you okay?” Kaeya asks, walking up to you while wiping blood off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You clear your throat, nodding. “Yeah! I’m fine!” you squeak, looking away from the man.

Imagine if Predator vs. Prey were to take a different turn. A more…. Intimate turn. Archons, you need to get your head checked out. You walk over to Baizhu, waving at the green-haired man, who rushes toward you and begins checking on the injuries you sustained during the trial. Despite what happened today, you don’t think this is the end of your trial. After all, you were chased by Eremites and Treasure Hoarders. That is going to be another way for the men to make the training/trial more complicated. 

“Next, we should focus on hand-to-hand combat and uses of weapons,” you hear Kazuha say, turning to look at you.

Venti nudges the person closest to him. “I don’t know about you, but [Y/N] beating up the Eremite with the tree branch is pretty hot,” Venti whispers.

After not hearing a response from the person beside him, Venti turns to look at the person with curiosity, only to realize that he was talking to you the entire time. Venti’s eyes widen, and he smiles at you sheepishly after straightening up, rubbing his back while giggling shyly.

“How much did you hear?” Venti asks, his face almost as red as the fabric hanging around his neck.

You clear your throat. “I will pretend I didn’t hear a thing,” you say, continuing to let Baizhu treat your wounds.

Venti nods and slowly backs away, covering his red cheeks with his hands. You sit back in your seat, sighing. Looks like this isn’t the end of the trials. “I wonder who else they’re going to dress like. The Nobushi and Kairagi from Inazuma?” You don’t think you can handle seeing your handsome boyfriends cosplaying as beefy villains. 

Note: Ahhhhhh, I'm not sure how I feel about this overall fic, especially the ending of the fic ;v; Next week, I'll be posting a second part of the Soul Puppet! It's not angst, or does it have too many compared to the first part. I already discussed with the requester how the second part is going to go :> Also, for those who want to, my discord is officially opened! This link is temporary and will expire after seven days. If you want to join, here is the link to [Zhongli's Abode]! If you like the server, you can stay! If it's not your cup of tea, then you can leave whenever you want! To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr, (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[thepixelelf]

Band of Silver, Remember my Vow [Teaser]

Based on and inspired by the Sanskrit play, Sakuntala; or The Ring of Recollection, by Kālidāsa, which dramatizes the story of Sakuntala as told in the epic, the Mahābhārata

genres: romance, angst, past civilization au (set in a made up land inspired by joseon and influenced by other asian (and hints of european :/) cultures), subtle magic, not e2l just people who annoy each other at the start to people hopelessly in love w each other pairing: healer reader x lord scoups. platonic reader & soldier dino teaser word count: 2.2k estimated fic word count: ~15k teaser warnings: injury by weapon to an animal (hunting). animal attack. estimated fic warnings: descriptions of blood, injury, and illness. (possibly) sex but not smut. animal gore. notes: this was meant to be for caratlibrary's fall collaboration, but I flubbed it on the deadline (no surprise there!). I'm still not done, but I wanted to post this to see if people are as interested in the story as I am! I will not be making a requestable taglist, however I will be tagging people who comment/show interest in the tags of reblogs

In the story of Sakuntala, the king Dusyanta ends a hunting trip before he comes across the beautiful Sakuntala in a nearby hermitage. He is immediately captivated by her, courts her, and marries her soon after. However, he must return to his royal duties in the capital. He leaves his signet ring with her, promising to return. While distracted with her love for Dusyanta, Sakuntala forgets to greet a visiting and easily irritated sage. Angered by her disrespect, he curses her by making Dusyanta forget her existence. He is later convinced to lighten her punishment, and revises the curse so that the king will remember everything upon seeing the ring he left behind.

teaser under the cut!

The bowstring pulls taut as Seungcheol draws his arm back. His aim is unwavering— it better be, with all the years of training his breath to even at will, all those days spent shooting arrows at dyed targets and skittering rabbits. He kneels in the grass, still as a corpse, and waits for the stag to lift its head from where it’s dipped at the base of a tree.

Wait. Patience. That’s what he was taught.

Patience. Wait. Wait. Breathe.

But — air huffs through Seungcheol’s nose — why isn’t it lifting its damn head? The entire forest surrounding him is quiet. Nothing is here to disturb this perfect moment. This almost perfect moment.

Seungcheol fills his chest with air again, even and silent.

Wait. Patience. Breathe. Lift your damn—

“What are you doing?”

Startling at the sudden whisper in his ear, Seungcheol swerves to the side, his fingers slipping and releasing his arrow into the air. It slams into a tree, right where the stag’s neck would have been had it lifted its head. The sound echoes through the forest, and it spooks the stag. It dashes off out of sight, and Seungcheol curses under his breath.

“Why would you—” He whips his head around and finds you crouching next to him, a woven basket resting on your hip, held there by one hand. For only a moment, he is distracted by your face, and the way the sunlight, broken through the leaves of the forest, dances on your cheeks. He clears his throat. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

You blink and tilt your head. “What have I done?”

Abruptly, Seungcheol stands, gesturing his bow towards where the stag disappeared. “My— you…” He huffs, then looks away, returning the bow to its spot on his back and tearing off his gloves in muted frustration.

He came here for a distraction, but you are closer to an annoyance, albeit a not unattractive one. He prefers to lose himself in the concentration of the hunt.

As he moves to follow the deer, your voice stops him.

“Where are you from?”

When he turns, you’ve already stood up, and you regard him with slightly furrowed brows.

“You must be from rather far,” you say without giving him much chance to respond. “Were you planning on shooting him?”

“Him?” Seungcheol echoes. “You’re referring to that animal?”

You hum, nodding to yourself. “Rather far indeed. He may very well have been the patron spirit of these woods.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a terrible dishonour to harm an antlered one in this forest. A dishonour to what this place provides, and the vast life within it,” you explain, though the words mean nothing to Seungcheol. You step closer to him, tilting your body to peer at the quiver of arrows on his back. “You’d be a fool to attempt to kill one, and invite grand misfortune by doing so.”

His jaw clenches, and air comes out of his nose hot. “Who are you to call me a fool? Do you know who I am?”

You straighten. “Am I supposed to? You’re quite far from home.”

“I am Lord Choi Seungcheol,” he announces with pride, though it tastes of the arrogance his mother always tutted at on his tongue. “General of the Four Peak Soldiers, and— and future ruler of the Eastern District.”

You make a face, and it only makes the anger in Seungcheol burn hotter.

“A lord, huh?” you taunt. “Or a general. Which one is it? Or does it not matter?” Leaning back slightly, you study his face. “Certainly, it doesn’t matter to me. I am neither a Four Peak soldier, nor a citizen of the Eastern District, so I will say as I please. A fool is a fool.”

Seungcheol raises his hand, and you flinch, but only slightly. Your eyes remain firm on his.

He lowers his hand, tired of your presence and of having to listen. If he and you were in his district, you’d have serious punishment awaiting your next sunrise. However, he was out on his own, alone on a rogue, spontaneous hunting trip far away from home because he wanted some space to get his thoughts together. It’s something he’s done before, two or three or nine times. His mother shows contempt for this habit of his, but she does not try to stop him. All she asks is that he not bring home trouble.

You seem like trouble.

How was he supposed to know that the woods he ventured into had such trivial myths to abide by?

He is Choi Seungcheol, damn it. Your silly fairy tales won’t deter him.

Deciding to spare you this time, Seungcheol breathes out and turns away, walking now in the direction of where he tied his horse. Perhaps this trip was a failure. To expect to clear his head the same way he has done before was foolish — though he would never admit that. What is on his mind now is much heavier, much more inevitable than the other things he would run away from in his youth.

A marriage to the country’s princess.

His marriage to her.

Seungcheol’s hands twitch, and he yearns to draw his bow again.

“Lord General,” you call out, the tone of your voice itself a warning. “Don’t be a fool.”

He ignores you.

=

Ricecake seems to have had a much better experience in this forest than Seungcheol. He finds her munching on the lush, untrodden grass, and he almost feels bad for interrupting her meal. However, that feeling lessens when he remembers that if he were successful in his hunt, she'd have to carry the spoils all the way home. At least she has that.

Seungcheol rides for not half an hour, following the river, before another stag dashes alongside his path. He spends no time thinking. Pulling his bow from his shoulder, he notches an arrow and lets it fly. A second arrow leaves his fingers before he blinks.

The stag rears on its hind legs, one arrow in its thick neck and one pierced directly through its eye. It shrieks, haunted and low.

But it does not fall.

Seungcheol dismounts from his horse and draws another arrow, aiming again for its neck so it cannot escape far before it dies. He expects it to run in the opposite direction.

Its hooves dig into the dirt beneath it, and the stag charges towards Seungcheol.

He has no time to react, his arms moving instinctually to protect his head, before pain blooms fiery red from his torso. An icy cold engulfs him, and everything goes dark.

=

Pain is what wakes him up, dull and aching, but when he attempts to right himself, Seungcheol winces. A fierce pang rings in his body from his stomach to his right ear, which sparks a jolt of pain throughout his head. He falls back again, though his head doesn’t hit the hard earth. Instead, a steady hand catches his head, and another gently touches the front of his shoulder, as if to calm him.

“Easy there, Lord General.”

Your voice, and the way you patronise his titles again, make Seungcheol frown. It hurts to breathe, but he can’t help the annoyance that refills within him. What the hell are you doing here? Did you follow him? Why are your hands so gentle?

Though his headache may worsen with sunlight, Seungcheol pries his eyes open. His eyelids are heavy, and for a moment, he thinks he must not have opened them fully. He can barely see you, even though it was midday when he’d been knocked unconscious. It then registers that he is no longer outside, in the woods, but in a room, lowly lit with sparsely strewn candles.

The realisation makes him want to jump up again, but the pain in his torso forces a groan from him, and he falls back onto the support of your hand. He strains his head to assess his surroundings. “Where am I?” he grits out. It hurts to speak.

“Be careful,” you say, concern sewn into your brows. “You may have broken your ribs.”

He demands, though perhaps sounding weaker than he likes, “Answer the question.”

Your lips settle into a straight line, and you breathe out through your nose. “You’re in my home.”

“Why?”

“I found you nearby,” you begin to explain, pulling your hand out from under him to cross your arms. He feels a thin layer of folded cloth under his head. “You were washed up on the riverbank, unconscious. Bloody…bruised…” You tilt your head. “Perhaps even more bruised now, since I practically had to drag you here, though the balm should help with the scrapes.”

“Balm?” Seungcheol echoes. Now that he thinks about it, there is a strange warmth seeping through the skin on his face. “You’re a healer,” he concludes.

You nod, and for the first time, Seungcheol sees a smile on your lips. In the candlelight, it only adds to the warmth.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you. Who knows how long you were lying in the cold water.” You sit back, eyes thoughtfully gazing over Seungcheol’s blanket-covered body. They pause around where Seungcheol’s left hand is. “I was able to save almost all your fingers.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he jerks his hands out from under the blanket to hold above his face. The pain this causes is in the background compared to his panic, but that fades soon after he sees all ten fingers, wiggles them, then glares at you.

You’re smiling wider now. “That was a joke, Lord General.” At his glare sharpening, you let out a small laugh. “Your fingers are fine. They might be stiff for a few days, though.” Your expression shifts to a more serious one. “Your ribs, on the other hand… You’re severely bruised. I suspect they may be fractured.

Breathing in again, Seungcheol watches the way you eye his chest as it rises and falls. It hurts like a bonfire has sparked in his lungs.

“What happened?” you ask, no residual hint of playfulness in the simple question.

“I…” In the back of his mind, Seungcheol sees the stag again, sees the blood rivering from its eye and neck, sees its antlers as they bouldered into him. He sees you, and how you spoke to him in the forest. An enchantingly bright bad omen.

Don’t be a fool.

Yet here he is, under your care in your home, for doing the very thing you warned him not to.

"...I fell," he says after a moment of quiet. It’s only a half-lie. He did fall, even if that wasn’t how he sustained the injuries to his ribs.

One of your eyebrows rises up your forehead. “You fell.”

“...Yes.”

You hum, doubtful. “Off your horse, I assume. I’ve seen similar bruising and fractures when people are kicked. It happens to someone around here at least once a year; there’s no shame in getting unsaddled.”

He’s never fallen off Ricecake — she’s the perfect companion, but Seungcheol grits his teeth and says, “I suppose there’s not.”

A triumphant grin appears on your face, and you turn slightly to reach for a small notebook. “Well, Lord General—”

“That is not my title,” he interrupts on principle, though he instantly regrets it with the waking pain in his chest. Still, he cannot stop himself from correcting you. “You will address me as Lord Choi, or ‘my Lord’.”

Your eyes don’t leave your notes. “Alright Lord General, it—”

“You can’t—”

“—is my professional opinion that you should be on bed rest for three days, though your full recovery could take two to three moons. I’ll need to monitor your breathing until it regulates.” You speak as if Seungcheol is just anyone, not someone with power or higher standing. To you, he is just a patient.

Why does that thought not continue to anger him?

“I need to find my horse,” he tells you. “There are healers in the Four Peak fortress that can oversee my recovery.”

You shake your head. “Riding is out of the question. It will only worsen your condition.”

“I can’t stay here. I am needed as their leader.” And his mother is going to kill him for being gone more than a few days without a word.

“Do you have a palanquin?”

Seungcheol frowns. “Do I look like I have a palanquin with me?”

“Could you send for one?” you rephrase.

He ponders on that. It is rare for him to ride a palanquin, even back home. The cart is used more decoratively these days, reserved for events like longevity parades through the city, and no longer for extended trips over uneven ground like the forests he travelled through to find himself on your land. 

Still, he can’t stay here. Certainly not for three moons. “I’ll write a missive.”

“Alright,” you say with a nod. “There’s a merchant group that travels every two weeks between here and a city in the Eastern District. You can send it with one of them.”

“When are they travelling next?”

“You’re lucky, Lord General. They leave for the east in five days.”

Not as soon as he’d like, but at least the merchants hadn’t just left. Then he would have to stay here for one full moon before he’d even be able to send for help.

“For now,” you continue, “you should rest. It’s late, and your body needs time to recover.”

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