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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

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Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭

Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid

Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺

First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.

Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend) [it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]

The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.

You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.

To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.

"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"

Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.

The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.

Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.

"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.

So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.

"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"

Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.

"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.

The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.

Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.

It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.

So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.

Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.

The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.

Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.

The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.

"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."

"I don't care about money."

Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?

"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.

"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.

But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.

Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.

"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."

The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.

You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.

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welldonebeca · 3 months

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Glitter and Goo (II)

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. WC: 1.8k words Warnings: Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Sex promises.

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Masterlist

You fixed yourself dinner, lemonade forgotten, barely processing the taste of the food as you watched the way in front of you.

Space was beautiful. It was so strange to see those stars so clearly.

Yet, it was so scary sometimes.

You got something ready for Bucky too, saving it for when he'd wake up, putting some music on before moving off to work on the research of the element already.

It was maybe two or three hours later that the sound of a phone call got your attention.

"FRIDAY, pick up," you asked.

The sound stopped for a moment, and you took your gloves off.

"Doctor Sparkles," Tony greeted. "Got time to talk?"

You scoffed at the silly nickname.

"What's up?"

"That sparkly thing you sent over," he told you. "Thor said it's pollen."

You rolled your eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," you shifted to the other side, where you'd been working on the pollen. "I gave it a look under the microscope, but I'm not exactly good at alien biology."

It just looked sparkly. Sparkly pollen, that was it.

"Anything on the goo?" you asked him. "It dried really fast, I didn't have time to take a second sample to look into it myself."

Maybe you could cut some of the fabric of Bucky's clothes. Even if it had dried, it could have left something there.

"We got someone smart looking into the one too," he told you. "Are they from the same plant?"

"Yep," you crossed your arms. "A flower exploded on Bucky. He got really grumpy about it."

There was silence on the other side.

"It exploded?" Tony asked. "Like... what?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Like a flower explosion, Tony," you told him. "What else can it mean?"

More silence.

"I gotta check something," he decided. "Are you going anywhere?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about visiting Pluto," you sassed back. "I heard it is really pretty this time of the year."

A sound caught your attention for a moment, and you looked in the direction of the dorm.

Had Bucky woken up.

"It's not worth it," Tony told you. "I'll be back in a minute."

He hung up, leaving you to scoff. It wasn't like you had anything else to do, anyway.

"Ma'am?" FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes is behaving strangely."

That made you stiffen up.

What?

"Define strangely?"

The damn pollen.

You pulled up a tranquillizer from the side of your table.

If it had made him violent, it was best not to even get close to him.

"He has broken his bed, ma'am," the system told you. "And... I believe he's trying to copulate with your pillow."

He was...

"What?" you shouted back. "What do you mean, he's trying-"

But another call came through again.

"It's Tony, ma'am," it told you.

You grunted, covering your face with a hand.

"Pick it up," you cocked the tranquilliser. "Tony, tell me you have good news, because I think I have a problem."

"I do," he told you. "And it isn't venomous."

You sighed. Good, at least that.

"The flower that Bucky might have encountered is part of the mating rituals of-"

"Quick answer," you interrupted him, worry already filling you. "I don't have time for the sociology lesson."

He snorted a bit.

"It's a sex flower," he told you. "It makes you horny for your mate and facilitate reproduction of a highly infertile-"

You blinked, shocked.

"Wait, it's a sex pollen?" you asked. "Tony, this isn't funny!"

Where had he gotten that explanation from? Someone's fanfiction story?!

But he laughed on the other side.

"Except that it is!" he corrected you. "It enhances romantic and sexual attraction towards one's mate-"

"Mate?"

Was he talking about animals?

"It is actually highly sought after by some Asgardians struggling with their fertility," Thor spoke on the other side. "It quickens up the production of eggs and sperm to ensure reproduction."

You had to pinch yourself to react, still shocked.

What the fuck?

"And how does that affect humans?" you asked.

You were met by a bit of a hum.

"We don't have many answers on that," Tony answered at last. "But probably the same as Asgardians?"

"If so, there's nothing to worry about," Thor assured you, not sounding worried at all. "It only hits those who are actively around their partners."

You glanced back at the dorm. Well, that didn't sound very right.

"Partners?" you asked. "Like boyfriends and girlfriends? Wives, husbands, spouses...?"

He confirmed with a hum.

"Yeah. People who we have strong romantic and sexual feelings for, a bit more than just passion," he told you. "Bucky will be just fine."

"Ma'am," FRIDAY called. "Agent Barnes has dented the wall with a punch. I believe the door can only resist another five of those before breaking, unless you activate quarantine mode."

That didn't seem to go over Tony.

"Wait, what?" he asked. "Why is he punching the ship?"

You stood up quickly.

"I gotta go check on him," you decided. "Thor, is there a chance he... might..."

Hurt you.

His voice was tainted with worry when he answered.

"Violence is unlikely," he told you. "Unless you try to keep someone away from their mate."

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

Holy shit.

"Okay," you spoke slowly. "I'll call you back if I need anything else."

"Wait, what?" Tony gasped back. "Where are you going?"

But you pressed the screen near your station, hanging up.

You could hear grunts when you walked near the dorm and jumped in shock when you heard Bucky's fist against the door again.

"James!" you shouted. "What are you doing?"

He stopped.

"Y/N?" Bucky called suddenly, half whimpering. "Where are you?"

You neared the closed door.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, instead. "Are you alright?"

He knocked on the door, a little weaker.

"Please," Bucky begged. "I need you."

You swallowed down, eyeing the door, worried.

Was he going mad with lust?

"Please," he cried.

Heat pooled in your belly, a soft smell making your face warm.

Was that him?

He smelt so good.

"Please?" Bucky insisted.

You stopped your tranquilliser slowly, walking near the door, but when you tried to open it, it was locked.

"FRIDAY," you called. "Open the door."

There was a moment of hesitance.

"Are you sure, doctor?" the system asked. "It's still possible to put Agent Barnes in quarantine. It's only 36 hours until we arrive back home."

You shook your head. No, you wouldn't leave him alone.

"Open the door," you commanded once more. "Don't ask me again."

The sound of the locks moving was loud, and you opened the door slowly when you found it unlocked.

James didn't move when you stepped inside, just far enough from the door that you walked in easily.

His face was so flushed, and he was drenched in sweat.

You reached for him slowly, touching him gently on his cheeks, and he exhaled, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Where were you?" Bucky panted, sounding so sweet and yet so needy, his hands moving to cover yours. "Where had you gone?"

It broke your heard to hear him like that, so lost. You had left alone!

He watched you with his bright blue eyes so soft, and it was as if he hadn't been slamming the door moments ago.

"I'm sorry," you caressed his skin. "I was making dinner. Aren't you hungry?"

Bucky shook his head, hand moving down slowly, touching your body gently. First your waist, wrapping his arm around you so slowly that you knew you could step away and stop him any time you wanted.

He put his head in your neck, sniffing you, nuzzling into you as if you were the most precious thing he didn't want to let go.

You shivered when you felt him sniffing you, pressing close to you, his body hot.

His big hand travelled down a bit, near your hip.

"Hungry," he mumbled into your neck, licking your skin.

Bucky's fingers searched around your jumpsuit on your back, tugging on your jacket and your utility belt.

"Smell good," he whimpered. "Can smell you..."

You sighed out.

"Smell me?" you squirmed.

You could smell him good. It was so good.

"Smell you wet," Bucky hissed, unhooking your belt and throwing it away. “Smell your skin… wanna bury my head in your tits, find your sweet smell in them.”

You gasped, surprised.

"Bucky! Something could break!"

He tugged on your vest, lips travelling up and down your neck, and if he was that insistent there, you couldn't help imagining what he'd do if he put himself between your legs.

"Want to break you," he took his hands to your belly and pulling on the clasps of your best, nearly breaking them. "Make you mine. No one else will have you."

What?

He wasn't speaking any tense.

Bucky threw it away, grabbing the front zip of your suit and tearing it.

“Bucky!”

Did he know how hard it was to get a jumpsuit that fit your tits? They were too fucking big for most of them, you had to get a bigger size and adjust the rest of your body!

Still, you couldn’t complain as his big hand pushed into your clothes, grabbing your chest, squeezing your breast over your bra.

"No one else can have you," Bucky babbled. "You're mine."

Bucky took your clothes off so quickly you barely saw it, and he picked you up, laying you on the bed.

For a moment, you thought he would take you just like that, but he took off his clothes before moving and kneeling in front of the bed, looking at your face with such a soft pleading look on his face.

"Please?" he whispered. "Can I have you? Please?"

You swallowed down, leaning onto your elbows.

His mattress was practically on the floor, the legs broken, and it would be so easy for him to just crawl to you.

"Want to give you my babies," Bucky pleaded with you. "Want to be yours, please."

You swallowed down, breathing in deep. Oh, how good he smelt. You had to fight yourself not to bury your face into his neck and sniff him.

The flower... it had to do with mating rituals, wasn't it?

"What are you going to do?" you asked him.

Bucky swallowed down.

"I want to make you feel good," he promised. "I'll treasure you, I'll never let you go."

You pressed your thighs together, a bit warm between them.

His fingers clenched by his sides.

"I'll fill you up," Bucky promised. "You're so empty, aren't you? I'll give you everything!"

You swallowed down again, feeling your pussy clenching at the idea.

His babies. He was going to give you his babies, right?

Your eyes travelled down his body to his cock, and it was so hard. There was so much precum.

Oh, he was going to fill you up, right?! Give you his cum!

Bucky was going to breed you.

You nodded, sitting up.

"Please," you tried to grab his hand. "Please, Bucky."

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515imagines @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs? @patzammit? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics? @alexisshoto @dreams-of-feysand @dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

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lovemyself97 · 3 months

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✦𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮 ✦ JJK

Summary: You forgot your wallet and that was a good thing. Saved by a small kind gesture from a stranger, but perhaps not so strange. Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x foreign! female reader. Genre: Fluff Warnings: none (Thoughts are in italics) Author: You can read part 2 here , I hope you like it; There's a short playlist for a better reading experience :) Words: 643

Argh, why Lily?

It was 11 p.m. when I looked at the clock on the gray wall, my dear friend, Lily, a Korean woman I've known since I moved to Seoul, convinced me that she deserved a pot of very spicy ramen for her well-deserved promotion at work... the question is:

1-I forgot my wallet,

2-I was threatened with not being able to enter the apartment without the noodles

3-And now a lady was looking at me visibly annoyed.

'Look, I've always paid you on time and...'

'I don't do cash on delivery,' she muttered to end the conversation. Before I could reply again, a packet of snacks and two cartons of banana milk and the money were placed on the counter and only now I realized that we weren't the only ones there.

A young man was wearing a black mask, dressed head to toe in black, holding a helmet in one hand and looking impatient.

'Pass this and the lady's ramen, please,' he said, incredibly politely, making me let out the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. The lady looked speechless for a moment but just nodded and quickly packed up the items.

Before I could thank him, he quickly left, leaving me alone with that lady, 'I'm never coming back here again' I thought as I tried to catch up with the boy.

'Wait.'

The young man, who was already leaving when I reached him, frowned when he looked at me and something glinted in the reflection of the light. I noticed that he had an eyebrow piercing, but something else caught my eye and left me breathless. He had tattoos on one of his hands, which were very familiar to me… As soon as I looked up, he realized that I recognized him, Jeon Jungkook…

I had always been a fan of Jungkook, admiring his powerful voice and his talent on stage. I never imagined I'd have the chance to meet him like this, so casually, and he probably didn't want to deal with a hysterical fan right now, so I took a deep breath and spoke calmly:

'I wanted to say thank you, thank you so much for helping me and if you could just wait a little while until I pick up-'

'No need to thank me,' he said, his expression softening a little. 'I was just in a hurry and thought I could help.' His voice came out low and muffled because of his helmet, he rummaged through the grocery bag he had just made and handed me one of the cartons of banana milk. 'Just be careful on your way home, it's late.'

I couldn't even open the carton of banana milk he gave me. Instead, I kept it carefully, as a special souvenir of that unexpected encounter.

'Do you always come here?' I asked a little awkwardly, but I couldn't help but be curious and wanted the moment to last a little longer, to which he just winked at me before speeding off on his motorcycle and driving away through the empty streets of Seoul.

I looked around as soon as he was out of sight, feeling a silly grin form on my face, did that really happen?, followed by several shrieks but I soon felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, I'm not even dressed up!, I quickly looked at the nearest reflection, a puddle of water, but something else caught my eye, it looked like a wallet, I wonder whose it was?, and my eyes widened as I realized whose it could be.

It seems that he had forgotten his wallet... I went home thinking about how I would return it to its owner and thinking that maybe I would go to that convenience store more often.

I had no idea I'd run into him again sooner than I thought.

[Don't be a silent reader, let me know what you think 💗]

Do not copy. Original work of @lovemyself97 , 2/10/2024 (reblogging always helps! )

#jjk x reader #bts x you #bts scenarios #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #army #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #idol au #bts imagines #imagine #jungkook fluff #bangtanwriters #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts au

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wordstome · 6 months

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kingdom come - ii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

4.4k words

tw: none

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

Let's have something lighthearted and playful after the absolute Week the cod fandom has had, shall we?

“What do you mean he’s letting you kill him?”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Calliope, I thought I made myself quite clear.”

“But…but that’s mad!”

“He is mad!” You shove the sleeves of your blouse over your arms. “But I’m still alive, so I’m not complaining.”

“Of course. Should I send word to your father about these new developments?”

You bite your lip. “No,” you say. Something catches your eye outside the window, and you move closer to have a look. König is outside, walking with one of his advisors while eating an apple. It’s a strange juxtaposition between the relaxed boyishness of him throwing the apple in the air and catching it, and the stark, emotionless expression of the mask covering half his face.

As if he can feel your gaze on you, he looks upwards, eyes locking with yours. You shudder and quickly shut the curtains.

“I can do this.” You say, determined.

“You’re not eating.”

You stare resolutely at him from across the table. “I’m not hungry.”

He sighs, as if you’re a difficult child he’s being forced to babysit. “I heard your stomach growl. The food won’t bite back.”

“To be frank, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Who the fuck is Frank?”

You glower at him. “I know this is all a game to you, but I’m trying to stay alive.”

“By not eating?”

You look down at the food dubiously, and your doubt must be written all over your face, because König laughs. “Surely you do not think so lowly of me that I would poison my bride at the breakfast table,” he taunts. “That wouldn’t be in the spirit of the hunt.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for presuming otherwise of the man who asked me to eat a nightshade berry.”

He rolls his eyes. “One berry can’t kill a full-grown man. Or woman.” He takes a sip of wine. “And besides, that wasn’t the point of our little encounter in the garden anyway.”

Your hunger wins out over your apprehension. “Enlighten me,” you say, tucking into the food.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was testing you to see if you were going to try and kill me.” He points a fork with a piece of sausage on it at you. “Quiet, secluded place with nobody watching, plenty of exits. You surprised me by staring at me like a startled doe.”

“You caught me off guard,” you mutter. “You’re a very off-putting person.”

He gives you a bemused look. “You’re not a very good assassin.”

You bristle. “I assure you, if my target was anybody else, they would already be dead.”

“Tell me, princess. Have you ever killed anybody?”

“I’ve killed.”

“A human.”

“I know how to kill someone!”

“So that’s a no.”

You’re fuming at this point, your meal long forgotten. “It’s not to my advantage to let you know what I can and can’t do.”

He studies you, twirling his fork in an admittedly mesmerizing motion. “And your father sent you here, to kill me, having never spilled another person’s blood before.”

“My father prepared me my entire life for this.”

“Not sure that speaks highly of your skill.”

You’re already tired of him. “What’s the point of this?” you demand. “A smarter man would have either killed me or thrown me in a cell by now.”

“Not a smarter man, a boring one,” König corrects.

“So you have a death wish.”

“Of course not. I have much to live for. Eating, killing, fucking. Great fun. But not enough on its own.” His grin is near wolfish as he stares you down.

“You are vile.”

“You could be doing something about that.”

You look at him in mortified disbelief. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“I was referring to killing me, but it is interesting that’s where your mind went first.” He looks entirely too pleased with himself, as if he’s caught you in a clever trap.

“Fuck you.”

“Now we’re talking!” He stands up, and for one fleeting moment, you fear he’s about to make good on the offer, but instead he just wipes his mouth and makes to leave.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this little bout of verbal sparring, I have somewhere to be.”

“You seem in quite a rush to leave my presence, for a man who seems so convinced I won’t be able to kill him.” If he wants to be a smart little asshole, you can too.

“Ah, believe me, princess. I would like nothing more than to spend all day in your lovely, murderous presence. But unfortunately, I have responsibilities.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you studiously ignore the way your stomach flips a little at the motion. “I’m obligated to hear petitions.”

You stand up. “I’m coming with you.”

“Why? It’s fucking dull.”

“So I can have more opportunities to kill you.”

“Yes. Of course.” Again with that smile. You’ve never met anyone half as pleased to be in your presence as he is. (The only exception is Calliope, but she kind of has to be near you.) This man simply refuses to act in any normal manner whatsoever, and it’s starting to get on your nerves. You throw your dagger at the back of his head more out of irritation than a dedicated effort to kill him.

He catches it in the air with casual precision and keeps walking. “Too predictable, little one.”

You should be concerned by his razor-sharp reflexes, but it’s difficult to feel anything but annoyance right now. And…respect?

You get up and follow him before you can give yourself a chance to dissect that.

König was right. This is dull.

At first, the concept of receiving petitioners seemed like an amusing prospect. But in practice, it’s all politics and people complaining about taxes.

You entertain yourself by watching König. He seems just as bored, if not more, as you. He appears to be intrigued by your dagger: examining it, testing the edge, handling the heft.

Some man is talking animatedly with his hands, bemoaning some property dispute with his neighbor. You’re sure that if König rolls his eyes any harder into the back of his skull, he’ll go pigeon-eyed. Admirably, he manages to push through—if it had been you, you would have just told the man to get out and stop wasting your time. As loathe as you are to admit it, König is a good leader.

“Alright, we’re done here. Tell them to go home,” König says, dismissing everyone with a flick of his wrist. The guards begin to push the doors closed when one last man runs in, near crazed, and throws himself on the floor, babbling incoherently.

“What is the meaning of this?” König demands, immediately standing up. The guards begin to approach the man, hands on swords.

“Wait! Please, your majesty, I beg of you,” the man pleads. “I have journeyed many days to come here and beseech your aid.”

König heaves a sigh. “Spit it out then.”

“Thank you, my king,” the man pants, pushing himself up to a standing position. “There’s a beast. In the south.”

“A beast?”

“It’s ravaging the countryside. It follows the flocks, but it doesn’t eat them. It’s…” The man swallows hard. He looks weary, run ragged no doubt by his arduous journey to the capital. “It’s taking our children, sir.”

König’s eyes narrow. “And you haven’t attempted to track it down yourself?”

“We’ve tried, your majesty. Our most skilled hunters have gone after it.” The man sways unsteadily on his feet. “None of them have come back.”

“Has anyone laid eyes on it? Is it a wolf?”

“None who have seen it have returned to tell the tale.”

König leans back, looking contemplative. One of his advisors speaks. “We’ve received reports about this already, sire. We’ve dispatched soldiers already but had no luck.”

The man shakes his head frantically. “It doesn’t leave anyone behind to tell the tale, sir. Not many people dare to go into the woods anymore, and the ones that do…they don’t come back right.”

“How so.”

The man’s voice betrays his naked fear, trembling. “They go mad, sir. Some think…some think it’s the fae’s doing.”

That seems to finally get König’s interest. He leans forward, his entire demeanor stiffening. A hush falls over the people gathered as the man invokes the fair folk’s name.

Everybody knows the fae exist. In hushed whispers, people tell the old stories: of when the fair folk lived among men and ruled over them with cruelty and trickery. There are some forests people know to stay out of. And when a newborn babe fusses just a bit too much, or a child grows up a little too quiet, the rumors fly in secret.

The fae are cruel, beautiful, and nearly impossible for a mortal to kill. If they’re involved in this matter with the beast, then that village is as good as dead.

Before König can say anything, the man fidgets and turns. You watch as his attention lands on you, eyes widening. Something his gaze becomes unfocused, misty, his chest beginning to heave as he visibly panics.

“You…they’re here…THEY’RE HERE!” With a crazed look on his face, the man lunges towards you, moving at a threatening speed. Your hand goes instinctively to your hidden sheathe, but your fingers close around air. Shit! König still has your dagger. You brace to defend yourself as the man draws even closer—

Like a deadly blur, König is on the man in an instant. The force of him knocks you backwards, watching in shock as König subdues the screaming, flailing man with cold, expert precision.

As if in slow motion, you watch with a mixture of horror and fascination as he turns to look at you. His eyes, usually a tranquil pale green, are blue. Vivid blue, with an unearthly glow to them that makes you wonder if you’re hallucinating. You feel like a butterfly pinned to cork by that stare, simultaneously trapped and admired.

He blinks, once, and his eyes are green again.

With what looks like no effort at all, he turns the man on his stomach and pins his arms behind him as he struggles and hollers. “Put this one in a cell,” he says with a deep growl. “We’ll see what he has to say for himself when he’s in his right mind again. If he ever is.” The guards rush forward to haul the man away as König stands back up.

He gives the rest of the room a cursory glance. “Well? Back to your duties.”

The gawking staff quickly gather themselves and scatter. König claps his hands together as if dusting off some nuisance.

“…Why did you do that?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

He gives you a skeptical look. “Why did I defend my queen from an attacker?”

You take a deep breath. Gods preserve you. “I’m not your anything.”

“Technically untrue. You are my wife, which makes you the queen.” He strides over to you and offers you your dagger, holding the blade so you can grab the hilt.

Its weight soothes you as you put it back into its rightful place. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve already said I have no intention of killing you. Besides, it wouldn’t look good for me if I allowed you to be attacked in your own home.”

This isn’t my home, you almost say, but stop yourself. You’re starting to sound too much like a whining child, and you don’t like it.

You surprise the both of you with what comes out of your mouth next. “Thank you.”

He’s looking at you that way again, like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “You’re welcome.” He averts his eyes, hesitating for a moment like he wants to say more. Then he evidently thinks better of it and strides away from you.

“My lady!” Calliope rushes forward, concern written all over her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just…shaken,” you say, still watching König leave. “I’m fine.”

“Simply outrageous. I can’t believe none of the guards got to that man in time,” she fumes, fussing over you in her way.

“Yes, well. König got here in time. So no harm was done.”

Calliope follows your gaze, eyes narrowing at König’s retreating backside just as he turns the corner and vanishes from sight. “I don’t like that one.”

“Neither do I,” you snort.

“No, pet. Listen to me.” Startled, you turn to look at her. You haven’t heard her take on this tone in quite a while: the last time was when you had broken your wrist trying to scale one of the abandoned towers back home. You can’t quite recall why you had been trying to do that, but you do remember the worried look on her face, and the sternness of her words.

“He’s not right,” she says. “Something’s wrong about him.”

It’s a foregone conclusion to say that König is no ordinary man, but something about the furrow of Calliope’s brow tells you that more is happening here than she’s letting on. “Are you going to elaborate?”

A strange look passes over her face, like a cloud briefly blocking the sun. “No.”

You wait for a few moments before nodding. Whatever it is, you trust her to know what’s best. “I see. Though I didn’t need a warning on how dangerous he is, you know.”

“You are a smart girl,” she says wistfully, straightening your ruffled clothes a bit. “But there are some things that are not for you to understand.”

“I have to understand, if I’m to kill him.”

She frowns. “I think you should put that out of your mind for now.”

“What?”

“I mean, you may have to play a longer game with this one. There’s too much we don’t know.”

You open your mouth, then close it. She’s right. There was something bone-chilling about the way he looked at you just now, but instead of feeling afraid, you feel something different. Curiosity. Fascination.

Not for the first time—or the last—you feel drawn to him.

König’s been antsy lately.

You’ve gotten quite good at reading his moods, even when he’s wearing the hood. The rest of his body betrays him: his shoulders are tense, and his fingers are constantly toying with a phantom knife. He prefers to be fidgeting with an actual one, but it tends to make him too intimidating for that to be practical.

You’ve taken Calliope’s advice and taken to studying your target rather than trying to end him and be done with it. There’s a lot to notice, which is surprising: you’d taken him for some mindless hulking brute upon first impression. It’s clear that he’s intelligent, with a cunning quickness to his thinking that both impresses and chills you.

Shame he’s still as much of a raging pervert as he was in the beginning, though.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about you in pants at first, but now I think you should wear them more often,” he says, surprising you during target practice. He startles you enough to throw your shot off, the arrow clattering uselessly to the ground below the target.

“Can I help you?” you demand, giving him a venomous side eye.

“Not at all, princess. Just admiring the view.” He leans against a nearby post, watching your confused expression. It takes him shifting his gaze downward for you to realize what he means.

“Ugh!” Without hesitation, you nock another arrow and shoot it at him, aiming right between his eyes. He dodges it, of course.

“You can’t expect me to marry a pretty woman and not look at her,” he says smugly.

It’s an unfamiliar situation, being desired. You don’t have much experience with this sort of thing: not only are you the king’s daughter, but you tend to give off a chilly, hyper-competent aura that keeps men with fragile egos away from you. You’ve only had one encounter with a man: a shy kiss behind the stables, featherlight touches that sent tingles through your whole body.

König has never touched you, but the way he looks at you is enough to make you blush. You should be indignant, but instead you find you don’t mind all that much.

“Why are you bothering me?” you say instead of responding to what he said.

“Bothering you? I’m hurt,” he says, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve physically wounded him. “I came to inform you of my departure.”

“Your what?” you ask, gawking at him. “Where are you going?”

“Do you remember that man who came to tell us about the beast?”

“You mean the man who attacked me? I’d forgotten,” you say drily.

“Your wit is as alluring as ever,” he responds. “I’ve decided to enlist the help of the most competent man I know to deal with the threat.”

“And who would that be?”

“Me, of course.”

You shoot him a confused look. “You’re leaving to deal with something personally?”

“It’s too perilous of a problem to continue throwing my men at,” he says, taking on a more serious tone. He’s toying with a knife again: a hefty, aggressive-looking thing with a jagged edge. “If you want something done, you need to do it yourself. Or at least lay eyes on the problem yourself.”

“You’re not worried at all about dying and leaving your throne empty?” you ask disbelievingly. This is beyond reckless, verging on foolish.

“Don’t start,” he sighs. “I just got out of a hours-long meeting with my advisors. Anything you could say to me, they’ve already told me a dozen times. It won’t change my mind.” One look at him tells you he’s dead serious, and won’t be persuaded otherwise.

“Well, when do we leave?”

“We?”

“Yes, of course. I’m coming with you,” you say, puzzled at his confusion.

“You are not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s too dangerous. And besides, the journey won’t be pleasant. I’ll be traveling without guards or servants.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Too much of a hassle. I’ll get there faster if I’m traveling alone. Emphasis on alone. Besides, I would prefer not to be sending any innocents to their deaths.”

“You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

“And you think you qualify?”

“Yes!”

He chuckles at your indignant tone. “With all due respect, my queen, I doubt you could take care of yourself out there, much less be of use to me.”

You wish he wouldn’t call you that. It makes your chest feel strange. Which isn’t helpful when you’re getting mad at him for doubting your competence.

“If you go alone, you might not come back,” you retort. “If I come with you, I can ensure you don’t come back.”

He looks at you, startled, and proceeds to let out a hearty laugh. “You are full of surprises,” he says. “It won’t be like a vacation, you know. We’ll have to travel light.”

“I can handle that.”

“I’m sure you can. The question is, can you handle whatever beast those villagers are so worried about? You may not worry about my wellbeing, but I would worry about your own first.”

“You don’t think I can hold my own?”

“To be honest? No.”

“Then let me prove myself.” You step right up to him, so close that your face is nearly pressed to his chest. God, he’s so big. And broad— “Let me show you I can hold my own in a fight.”

A sly smile crosses his face. “Alright. Let’s spar.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s. Spar.”

“You want me to fight you?”

“What were you expecting?”

“That’s not a fair fight.”

“You came here to kill me.”

“Assassinations don’t usually happen during prearranged one-on-one fights.”

“Touché. But I’m not asking you to beat me. If I think you’re competent, then you can come along.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I actively do not want you to join me, mind you.”

You let out a quick, angry breath through your nose. Infuriating. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you after lunch, then.”

You turn away from him and trudge over to a tree to pick up some fallen arrows. “What’s the rush? Are you leaving so soon?”

“Tomorrow morning, in fact. Just before dawn.”

“I can wake up that early.”

“No need to put the horse before the carriage here. If you’re going.”

“I’m not concerned.” You bend down to pick a few arrows out of some scrappy tough grass, and when you straighten, König is right there, looming over you like a threatening shadow.

“What—” You gasp as the knife König was fiddling with rushes past your face and embeds itself in the tree trunk behind you.

“I don’t think this is quite getting through to you, so I’ll only say this once,” he mutters darkly, leaning over you to whisper directly into your ear, his hand firmly gripping the knife above your head. “You have nothing to prove to me, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do by insisting you come with me. If you change your mind now, we need not speak about this again.”

You glare up at him. “You’re not going to change my mind. And it’s quite suspicious that you’re trying to.”

“Is it really so difficult to believe that I’m concerned for your welfare?”

You don’t understand him. Being this close to him isn’t helping you think straight, either. There’s no other way to describe it, but it’s almost like you can feel the intensity radiating off him. He smells like pine needles and lye, and some distinctly manly musk that you don’t dislike. And when he’s up close like this, you can see every detail of his eyes, the green streaked with blue and brown.

“It would be easier if you weren’t,” you whisper.

He snorts. “Don’t I know it.” Before you can process what the hell he means by that, he’s pulling his knife out of the tree and stalking off, suddenly in some sulky mood.

You stare at the deep mark left in the bark, wondering what just happened.

“Again,” calls the swordsmaster.

You scramble to your feet, exhausted and sore. “This isn’t fair,” you whine. You’re twelve years old, and the man who’s been teaching you how to fight has just dropped you for what feels like the millionth time in a row.

“How so?”

“You’re bigger than me!” you pout. “And far stronger.”

“That isn’t always an advantage, you know,” he says, doing a flourish with his practice sword that you vow right there and then to master someday.

“How? That’s all fighting is. It’s just big people beating up the little people.”

“Being smaller just means you have to be nimbler.” He gestures for you to come at him again. “Don’t focus on trying to hit me in the chest. Use your size to your advantage and focus on weak points.”

You brandish the practice sword again and ground yourself, steeling yourself with a deep breath before charging. You go for the knees, smacking them so hard that they buckle, bringing your instructor down with a shout.

“I did it!” you beam proudly.

“A little unorthodox, but the job is done,” he pants. “Remember, there is no decorum when you are fighting for your life. It is imperative you intuit your enemy’s weak points and exploit them. Even the strongest enemy can be brought low.”

You nod with determination. “Always go for the knees.” That draws a laugh out of your instructor.

There’s something deeply unnerving about the way this man moves.

König is so big, but he doesn’t move like it. The way he paces reminds you of a big cat: all intimidation and quiet, deadly strength on light feet.

“I’ll let you make the first move,” he says with a crooked smile. He looks deliciously rumpled, the sleeves of his shirt pushed to his elbows. You’re only looking at the swell of his biceps for tactical reasons, of course. Of course.

“How generous,” you reply. Without hesitation, you lunge at him.

He’s ready for you, of course. He matches you hit for hit, parrying you effortlessly. If you thought he was fast before, there’s something downright inhuman about it now. You doubt he’s even breaking a sweat.

He pushes you back, sliding on your feet a little. “Do you seriously have one hand behind your back right now?” you hiss.

“You’re as difficult to fend off as a feather,” he shoots back.

It’s like having a conversation, sparring with him. More than just the banter, of course. You trade blows, each unable to move in too closely to the other. He may be strong, but you’re fast. And you can tell you’re wearing him down.

“Getting tired, big boy?” you taunt.

“Of waiting for you to give up? Perhaps,” he grits out. “Don’t try my patience, princess.”

“I want to watch you squirm,” you respond. You watch as König’s eyes widen slightly. You jump at the opportunity, taking advantage of his moment of shock to knock him off balance and pinning him underneath you.

“That wasn’t so hard,” you purr as he pants under you. “Feel familiar?”

“Last time we were in this position, it didn’t end so well for you,” König shoots back. He can say whatever he wants, but you’ve visibly winded him.

“This time, I went for the knees.”

“Oh?”

“You have buttons that are very entertaining to push, your highness.”

“You little—”

It’s quick. One moment he’s pinned underneath you, and another moment some supernatural strength has him rapidly reversing your positions. He catches you off guard, and you spot a flash of blue in his eyes as the wind is knocked out of your lungs.

“Next time you have an enemy pinned like that, finish the job instead of crowing about your victory,” he hisses.

You wheeze a little before shooting him a coy look. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

“You are an infuriating little minx,” he says, visibly frustrated. He stands up, offering you a helping hand.

You take it, springing up with a little bounce to your step. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Am I coming with you?”

He sighs in consternation. “I suppose you are.”

You give him a little pat on the face. His exposed cheek is warm underneath your palm as he looks at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Glad we sorted that out. See you at dinner,” you say sweetly.

You prance off without a look back. You could use a bath.

MOOOOOOOM THEY'RE FLIRTINGGG

I started out unsure of how this chapter was going to turn out, as it's mostly just setup for the plot to get going. But I ended up having a lot of fun, and some pretty important things are set up in this. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp

#threw in a teensy whisper of switch König at the end there lol #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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batsvnte · 1 year

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𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 • 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing(s): Wally Darling

Sypnosis: Wally experiences a strange emotion as someone talks to his dear (Name)

Warning(s): possessive behavior (?), scopophobia, (slight) cursing, ooc maybe

Word Count: ???

Notes: gender neutral black human!reader (they/them pronouns) with human Wally Darling hHhhH- based on an audio I heard of Wally being jealous so I wanted to write something similar to that. Characters belong to @/partycoffin

It was a warm sunny day in the neighborhood just as how it is every other day. It was perfect weather to be outside to spend the day away doing fun activities. Or to be staying inside for practicing hobbies, relaxing or doing whatever comes to mind. To a certain blue haired individual, he wanted to take the chance to take his dear (Name) out for a picnic.

(Name) and Wally decided to go out into the open field near their house. They found a perfect spot underneath shade of one of the trees to set up everything. (Name) goes over their mental checklist to make sure they brought all the things for the both of them. Satisfied with themselves as they continue their path to the picnic spot.

Both of them had separated some tasks with themselves so they can have everything checked off. (Name) made themselves in charge with bringing the food for them while Wally made sure to bring supplies such as plates, cups, etc.

Soon (Name) reaches the spot where Wally was standing underneath the shade. He was setting everything up for the both of them, his back turned as he stands up in thought. (Name) jogs up to him whilst carefully holding the basket of food in their hands.

“Heya, Darlin’.” (Name) greets, which gained his attention almost instantly.

Wally turns to (Name) with a friendly smile on his face. He had quickly grown use to them using his last name whenever they greet him. “Hello, (Name). My, you look lovely today.”

(Name) smiles bashfully at the compliment. “Thanks, you look amazing Wally.”

Wally’s smile seem to grow bigger at their words. He’s always enjoyed exchanging compliments with (Name). Wally found ways to compliment his friends whenever he gets the chance, though the ones from (Name) were ones he looked the most forward to. No matter how simple or extravagant they were.

They kneel down to set up the food since Wally had already set out the plates for the both of them. While (Name) was preparing the food, Wally stays standing from a short distance. His eyebrows furrowed in a focus state while he looks down at the picnic setup he had done himself. Something was missing.

“Hm.. I must’ve forgotten something.” Wally muses to himself, unaware that this grabs (Name)’s attention. He stays silent for a couple of seconds before speaking again. “Silly me. I think I know what’s missing.”

(Name) turns over to look at him with curiosity in their eyes. From what they’re seeing, he’s gotten everything that’s needed for the picnic. Perhaps he’s forgotten something personal of his that he wanted to bring to the picnic.

Wally takes a few steps away from the spot, looking back to (Name). “I’ll be right back, (Name). I just need to go back to grab something.”

“Ok. Don’t take to long.” (Name) watches as Wally departs from their spot, seeing his figure on the path to what could be assumed to his house.

(Name) turns their attention back to the food. Everything was all set up for the two of them. They smile proudly to themselves as they adjusted the small makeshift table that was brought, having only two plates of food on it. Now all they had to do was wait for Wally to get back.

“Excuse me? Are you Mx. (L/N)?”

(Name) jolts out of their thoughts as they look to an unfamiliar person. The person wasn’t someone from the neighborhood at all. Though it was a uncommon occurrence that there would be an visitor from another place. This was the first of the visitors that (Name) had encountered.

They nod slightly few seconds afterwards. “That’s me, is there something you need?”

“Ah, no not really,” The visitor play with their fingers as they attempted to make some sort of eye contact with (Name). “I wanted to come over to say that I really like your outfit! The design for the shirt is really cool.”

They could only smile at the compliment. “Thank you!”

They wore a short sleeve shirt that consists of their favorite color in different shades that meshed well together along with some regular bell bottoms. (Name) wouldn’t be considered underdressed for the picnic, but at the same time not exactly overdressed for the weather. They were in the middle point.

“Anytime!” The person’s gaze goes over to the blanket covered with goods for a few seconds. “I love how this is set up. Are you here with someone else?”

“I’m here with a friend. He just went to get something.” (Name) responds to the question while having a little boost of confidence at the first few words.

Whilst they were busy with their conversation, one had failed to notice Wally’s arrival. He was holding one of his many sketchbooks in hand as he saw the perfect opportunity to draw during their picnic. The moment he was about to call out to (Name), he pauses in his tracks as he sees someone unfamiliar talking to (Name). Strangely the smile that was always on his face was nowhere to be found. He was always welcoming to new people visiting or staying in the neighborhood no matter who they could be. Seeing someone talk to (Name) wasn’t something that he likes to witness. Especially if he wasn’t there with them.

The person however took notice of Wally as he silently approached them. They pause whatever they were saying as their eyes were kept on him. The person wanted to say something to acknowledge Wally but their voice was caught up in their throat as they made direct eye contact with him. His eyes had no light; solely just pitch black darkness in them. There wasn’t any emotion present in his eyes. Not that they couldn’t tell in anyway possible. They slowly started to feel uncomfortable the longer he stared at them.

“Oh (Name). I’m back.” His voice broke through their thoughts, seeing how (Name) finally acknowledged Wally’s presence.

(Name) turns their head to look to Wally, feeling a bit more content now that someone else familiar to them is here. Not that they minded the unknown visitors presence. It was just nice to have someone else around. Wouldn’t really say the same on Wally’s case.

“Welcome back to the picnic, Wally.” (Name) muses quietly as Wally turns his gaze back over to the visitor who stood incredibly silent for the past few seconds.

The look in his eyes never changes which slightly freaks the unknown visitor out. “Welcome to the neighborhood. Who might you be?”

It took a few seconds for the unknown visitor to really process that Wally was talking to them. “Oh.. Oh me? I’m just someone wh-who’s visiting a friend from round here.” They quickly sputter out and trying not to trip over their own words.

“That’s amazing. Who are you coming to see?”

Wally’s voice was kept at a soft tone that can be added into his charm. But (Name) couldn’t help but pick at the hint of anger that was faintly there behind his words. They look between the person and Wally questioningly whilst wondering what’s going on with their dear ol’ friend.

“Sally Starlet.. Speaking of her I should go see how she’s doing. It was nice meeting you two!” Before either of them gotten another word out, the unknown visitor had walked off. Without any final glances to Wally or (Name).

‘What the hell was that?’

They let out a soft sigh before seeing Wally take the open spot reserved for him beside them. (Name) readjusted themselves to facing more towards Wally. As expected he was looking at them with a calm look on his face.

Their observation from the conversation that took place moments before clouded their mind entirely. (Name) maintains eye contact with Wally once again, finding no other emotion other than his usual calm expression with that charming smile he had on his face.

“Is something on your mind, (Name)?” Wally’s gaze never moved or shifted even the slightest bit away from (Name).

Deciding against their own conscious they asked, “What was that just a while ago?”

“What do you mean?”

“You sounded a bit mad when you were talking to that newcomer,” (Name) states as they shifted around slightly to become more comfortable, but never broke eye contact with Wally. “You don’t show much emotion Darlin’ but I can tell that you were.. jealous.”

Wally stays silent. His face didn’t change even the slightest bit. It almost made (Name) second guess their answer to his question. It felt like an entirety before Wally’s monotonous laugh rang through their ears.

“I wouldn’t want to admit it myself, my dear. You see, the picnic was suppose to be the two of us. Alone.” Wally’s laughter faded by the time he finished talking. “It would’ve taken so long for us to enjoy this special day if I hadn’t dealt with them.”

(Name) looks to him with a conflicted look. This was something new even for them to see. Though they were quick to notice how the mood had darken slightly.

“They seem nice though,” there goes their first attempt. “Maybe if you weren’t jealous as fuck then—“

Wally feeds them one of the slices of apples that they made. (Name) looks to him with confusion as he smiles at them. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, darling.”

(Name) glares towards Wally playfully as they finish eating the apple slice. The irony of him using his last name as an nickname for them made them smile just a tiny bit. At least with that it lightened up the mood for the both of them. (Name) continues on with the conversation while switching the topic to something else to get their mind off of the visitor situation.

Sharing is caring Wallace “Wallander” Darling.

I don’t like this one it took me a while to keep up with consecutive writing since I’m not use to writing prompts that has to deal with characters being jealous n whatnot. Hoped you enjoy tho–

#wally darling #ghouul #welcome home #apple to my eye 🍎#ghouul writings #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #welcome home clown illustrations #welcome home oneshot #yandere wally darling #Wally being a jealous silly guy #wally x reader #human wally darling #he’s so silly

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wandasgf · 1 year

Text

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER. mdni.

pairings: dark!wanda maximoff x f!reader

synopsis: you really should have just gone to kate's when you thought something was wrong, especially with the scarlet witch on the loose

warnings: serial killer!wanda, graphic violence !!!, blood, murder, two (2) deaths, knives, dacryphilia, degradation, allusion to petplay, slightly suggestive

a/n: wanda talks about dyeing reader's hair blonde, if you're already blonde just ignore that...

wc: 3.7k

pt 2. pt. 3

It was a typical day for you, you’d gone to work, just like normal. Your shift today was with one of your closest friends, Kate. You both worked at a local bakery in your relatively small town. Despite the small population of the town, the bakery was rather busy and whenever tourists passed through it was their first choice for somewhere to grab a snack at.

You had hung out with Yelena, your best friend since first grade, and caught up on the details of your collective and separate lives until the blonde girl had to go, and now you were on your way home. You had always preferred walking over driving or even taking the bus, you always thought it was nicer to ‘stop and smell the roses’ as other people would say. You preferred to take your time getting to places which, unfortunately, was why you were almost always late. So it was no surprise that you were late for dinner at your parents’ house, it was already getting dark when you made the turn onto the road where their house was.

Actually, it was a little strange that your parents hadn’t called to ask if you were on your way, but you figured they had just lost track of time. Your mother often did when she was cooking and your father never seemed to know what time it was unless it related to work.

There was an eerie silence as you arrived home, the gate at the bottom of the driveway hanging open and your front door ajar. A chill ran down your spine as you remembered one of the news headlines from that morning: 'Lawyer, 55, Murdered in His Home Last Night’. You convinced yourself it was just because of the wind and you were being paranoid for no reason. But the air was still that night and you knew it.

The murdered lawyer had been a colleague of your father’s. You had met him once at some sort of banquet and he was a little odd, maybe a little over affectionate towards you, who he had only just met, but certainly not somebody someone would want to murder. You make your way up the walkway to your parents’ house. You take a hesitant look around before slowly pushing the front door the rest of the way open and shrugging when nothing seems out of place. Your father must have forgotten to close the door when he got home from work that afternoon. You’re surprised your mother hadn’t realized and scolded him for it yet.

You close the door behind you, but it doesn't quite close all the way, like there was something keeping it from shutting properly. It slowly opens back up. You don’t notice as you set your bag down and make your way towards the kitchen, body moving on autopilot to get some of the dinner you knew your parents would have left out for you, but you anxiously clenched and unclenched your fists. Something was wrong and you could feel it. Somebody else was in the house.

You freeze, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, your phone slipping from your hand and clattering onto the ground. The sight in front of you should have made you run or even scream, but instead it just took the air from your lungs. It was horrifying, the scene in front of you, both of your parents were tied to chairs, the front of their shirts stained with their own and even each other's blood, and there was a woman standing over them with a knife in one of her hands. She was tall, probably about 5’7, and slender, her arms were muscular and she had a very sinister presence. Without thinking your father looked towards you, weakly calling out your name, probably as a sort of warning, but it was a mistake on his part and he should have just kept his mouth shut. If your phone hitting the ground hadn’t alerted her of your presence, your father surely did.

The unknown woman turns, a sick smile on her face as she looks you up and down, almost like a predator sizing up its prey, it makes you want to puke. “And who are you?” The woman’s voice is almost a purr, and you can’t seem to get yourself to answer, your voice stuck in your throat as you look at the other woman. You don’t think you’ve ever been so terrified in your entire life, and Yelena made you go see all the new horror films with her.

You hated horror films.

The woman cocked her head, it seemed she had scared you so much that you forgot how to speak. How cute. Well, she didn’t mind anyway, she was intent on not leaving any witnesses and victims who didn’t scream pleased her just as much as the ones who did. “Aw, are you scared darling? Well, I’ll go first and then maybe you’ll gain some courage. I’m the Scarlet Witch, have you heard of me?”

The color from your face drained almost instantly, you knew that name. It was all over the news. The Scarlet Witch was the name that the Westview police department gave to a killer who had been terrorizing the town. The Scarlet Witch was a murderer. It clicked for you that Scarlet was probably the exact same person who killed your father’s colleague. You didn’t get the chance to read the whole article and you didn’t want to die, but oh god, you were going to die, weren’t you? Scarlet had been waiting for you to get home so she could kill all of you, and no one ever escapes Scarlet. You should have gone to Kate’s apartment after hanging out with Yelena because oh god now you were going to die…

During your silent panic, you had started crying, and Wanda thought you looked simply delectable. Deciding to leave you to your thoughts, she turned back to your parents, she knew you wouldn’t run even if she didn’t keep an eye on you, you were too scared. And even if you did, she’d catch you. There was a playful smile on her lips as she twirled the already blood soaked knife around her fingers. “Your daughter is really very pretty, you know” she began, her playful smile turning into a dangerous one, “would you like to make a bargain? I know you love doing that with others.” She was almost daring them to say no, to give her a reason to plunge the knife she was holding into their chests as if she needed one. She didn’t, but she liked to make them feel like they were playing a game, like their decisions had any impact at all towards how this encounter would turn out.

When all she gets is a fearful shake of the head from your father, she rolls her eyes and her smile drops before she plunges the knife between two of his ribs, narrowly missing his heart. She grins when the older man screams out in agony before beginning to twist the knife, blood steadily pouring out of the wound. “I didn’t even tell you what the bargain was. And I really don’t like to repeat myself, I don’t think anyone does, but I’ll ask again and let you change your answer if you want.” When he shakes his head again Wanda clenches her jaw before taking the knife out and hitting his forehead with the handle end of the knife, enjoying the crack of his skull. When he lets out a groan she swiftly flips the knife around before plunging it into the same spot, watching as blood steadily pours from the wound. She really didn’t like when people told her no.

She pulls the knife from your father’s forehead before turning to your mother, a sadistic smile on her face. “I don’t suppose you’ll give me the right answer, will you?” The question was rhetorical of course as she plunges the knife into the woman’s chest before even allowing her the time to properly process the question, hearing her scream in agony before slitting her throat, the noise quickly dying down into a gurgling.

Wanda steps back to admire her work, the front of her clothes practically soaked in blood, it was messy but she was always proud of the work she did.

Wanda finally turns back toward you, eyeing you as she thinks to herself. She really didn’t want to murder you, torture maybe, but she didn’t want to kill you. After all, it was your parents who took part in the corruption of the town, not you… Well, she supposes she’ll just have to take you home with her, a win-win situation, you didn’t die and she got herself a pretty new pet. She noted how you looked absolutely terrified and kept your eyes mostly towards the ground, she didn’t blame you really, but it wasn’t something she liked. Well, she’d just have to fix that later, wouldn’t she? She couldn’t have a pet that wouldn’t even look at her.

You were still frozen in place, eyes darting between your parents’ corpses, the Scarlet Witch, and the floor. You were shaking slightly, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to keep yourself from crying. You can’t believe this had just happened, maybe this was just a nightmare? What did your parents do to deserve this? Nothing, that’s what. Well, as far as you know they didn’t deserve it. And oh god the Scarlet Witch was staring at you now, that meant you were next, didn’t it? Tears start falling down your face once more.

“Aren’t you precious?” Wanda coos, walking towards you, she wasn’t that far, only a few steps away, so you couldn’t get away even if you tried. You want to run, to hide, to do anything, but your brain can’t seem to get your body to move and now Wanda is standing right in front of you and you feel like you’re going to sob.

You whimper as Wanda brings her hand up and puts her finger under your chin, tilting your head upward to make you look at her. A sick smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face as she looks at you, she’s looking at you as if she can see your thoughts and it makes your stomach churn. If this were a normal encounter you might have found Wanda attractive, maybe even asked for her number if you could work up the courage. But all you can think of right now is that your parents are dead and that this murderer wants you to be next, and suddenly Wanda isn’t as attractive anymore. You’re not expecting Wanda to reach for a cloth from her back pocket and try to smother you, or you think she’s trying to smother you, the cloth smells almost sweet and a little like alcohol. You can feel yourself starting to get drowsy, your eyelids half closed.

It takes about five minutes for you to fall unconscious and Wanda lets out a pleased hum when you do, tucking the cloth back into her back pocket and picking you up. Chloroform wasn’t her favorite sedative, it always took too long, but this was a bit of an impromptu visit and she wasn’t exactly expecting to want or need a sedative. She always kept one just in case, you could never be too prepared. Wanda looks around, making sure she’s not forgetting anything before slipping her gloves off and placing them in her back pocket as well. She walks out of the house, glad you had forgotten to close the door when you came in, it would’ve been annoying to have to try and maneuver your limp hand to twist the door knob so that she wouldn’t leave any prints.

She has you in a princess carry, the position giving off more of a ‘my girlfriend drank a little too much’ vibe rather than giving away that you were sedated. Wanda had parked a little ways down the road, not too close to your parents’ house but not too far away either. She unlocks the car, opening the back passenger's side door and carefully maneuvering you inside. She was playing the part of caring girlfriend for anyone who was watching, she couldn't just toss you back there haphazardly, it was suspicious. There's a fond, albeit fake, smile on her face when she closes the door and circles around the car to get into the driver's seat. It wasn't too long of a drive to her house, about maybe two and a half hours if she was speeding the whole way and three if she didn't want to get pulled over. For obvious reasons, today was one of those three hour drive days.

When you wake up you let out something akin to a little whine as you stretch, trying to cover your eyes to shield them from the light and huffing when you’re stopped by something tugging back on your wrist. You furrow your eyebrows before realizing you’re not laying in your warm bed under all of your blankets with your plushies, in fact, what you’re laying on is quite cold and hard…

You shoot up when you remember the events that led up to this point and you frantically look around the room, eyes darting towards the corner of the room when you hear a chuckle. Wanda is sitting in an armchair in front of a desk that looks to have a bunch of computer monitors on it, a security system she had set up, but you didn’t need to know that. “Don’t be scared, little doll. I only hurt the bad people, remember? And as far as I know, there’s no reason for me to hurt you.” Has Wanda said that to you before? You can’t remember, not with your mind racing and your head spinning. You’re starting to panic again, knowing that you’re alone with the Scarlet Witch god knows where and there’s very little chance of anyone ever finding you here. You don’t know how long you’d been out or how long you’ve been here, but you do know that Wanda is watching you from across the room like you’re some sort of toy for her to play with.

“Why don’t we try introductions again? I’m Wanda, would you like to tell me your name now?” You hear the Scarlet Witch, now known as Wanda say, and it’s phrased as a question, but you know it really isn’t one. “Y-Y/n.” It takes a bit longer than Wanda would’ve liked and it comes out as a whisper, but it’s still loud enough to be heard. “My, what a pretty name.” Wanda muses. She knew that your parents had a daughter from her research on her most recent victims, but you were rather good at keeping most details about yourself private, unlike your parents.

Now, Wanda wouldn’t normally say her real name, but she knows you won’t be leaving any time soon, she’d make sure of that. And by the time she lets you go outside, your worst nightmare would be letting people know Wanda’s real name and getting her caught. She’s going to make you need her.

“Do you want to watch something fun, sweet girl?” Wanda asks, not waiting for an answer before pressing a button on a small black remote. A large television screen mounted on the wall you hadn’t noticed before clicks on. The screen displays a live news broadcast depicting, in much less detail than Wanda thinks gives it justice, what had happened to your family along with a description of what you look like as the news broadcaster says you’re now missing. The next thing to come up on the screen was a sobbing Kate, begging anyone and everyone to help find her best friend. She looked desperate, really, it made Wanda chuckle and you start to cry.

“You know, that picture of you looks really cute and you do look good with y/h/c, but I think you’d suit blonde much better so I picked up some things from the store on our way home while you were asleep.” Wanda smiles, holding up a box of blonde hair dye. “We can’t risk having anyone recognize you, can we, little doll? Especially not your little friend. She is your friend, right? Or is that your little girlfriend?” Wanda teases. “Well. I can always get rid of her if she decides to come looking because she misses you too much. She doesn’t look too difficult to lure out here.” She’s teasing of course, wanting to elicit a reaction out of you, she’d likely leave Kate alone as long as she doesn’t get too close. And she most definitely won’t. “N-No! Please don’t, leave Kate alone…” You trail off, realizing you essentially just yelled at Wanda.

Wanda arches an eyebrow, amused at how the confidence seemed to drain from you. “Hm, I don’t know. You know, she is rather pretty, actually, it would be a waste to kill such a pretty girl. Maybe I’d just bring her to the guest room, I’m sure training two dolls wouldn’t be too hard.” She says, enjoying how you seem to panic at the prospect of Wanda kidnapping her friend. “Ah, I have more important people to deal with anyway. But first, why don’t we go get you cleaned up.” Wanda stands up from the chair and turns off the television. She walks over to you and unhooks the cuffs around your wrists from the wall. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

She stands you up and leads you out of the room with a hand on your back. Wanda’s being oddly nice to you and you can tell, you know that means that something bad must be coming because it’s such a stark contrast from the Wanda you saw back at your house and you can’t help but shudder at the thought. As you both walk through the house, you note that there’s a door in the kitchen that leads to the backyard, but you don’t know where the front door is. You also notice that there are a lot of doors in the house in general, you don’t know if you want to know where they go or not.

When they get to the bathroom, Wanda tells you to stay put before going to get towels and fresh clothes. She can’t have you wearing the same clothes you went missing in, and trusting that you’re too scared to even attempt to escape right now, she doesn’t worry too much. You, however, wait a few seconds before taking this as your opportunity to escape and run back towards the kitchen and out of the house into the backyard. When you get outside, you notice how dark it is right now and you almost curse, but don’t want to waste any time so you look around briefly before running into the woods, thinking Wanda won’t be able to find you as quickly if you’re both lost in the trees.

Wanda curses when she gets back and finds that you’re gone, it had only been about a minute and a half so you couldn’t have gotten too far. She storms into the kitchen and grabs a rather large knife before walking outside, seeing footprints in the grass. The green blades squished where you had stepped on them. She clicks her tongue before walking into the woods, “Y/n darling, come out, come out wherever you are.” She sings, dragging the flat of the knife against the tree bark.

You flinch as you hear Wanda’s voice echo through the trees, trying to keep up your pace. You never were a good runner. You skid to a stop as you almost ran off the side of a rock bank. Of course Wanda had to live close to nothing but the ocean. A pretty view, but you’d have to admire it later. You were panicking now, knowing Wanda could easily find you having just run in a fairly straight line. Your eyes widen when you hear a tree branch snap and footsteps coming your way. In a panic you try to climb a tree only to have Wanda pull you down by your ankle and land on the ground.

“Got you.” Wanda chuckles and you audibly gulp in fear. You whimper as she grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs you up off of the ground. You’re quiet as Wanda quite literally starts to drag you back toward the house by your hair, only letting out pained whimpers when she’d tug too hard. “And to think I was trying to be nice with you. You should be grateful that you’re not already dead and this is what I get in return? What made you think this was a good idea, huh, dumb girl? You thought I wouldn’t catch you? What a stupid, stupid girl.” Wanda says, shaking her head, her tone angry.

When you don’t answer, she tugs harder, eliciting a whimper from the yor lips. “Answer me.” She demands, almost daring you not to. “I– I don’t know, I’m sorry.” You cry, knowing you were going to regret trying to escape. Wanda was pulling really hard on your hair and you think you’d do almost anything to get it to stop. “Yeah, you’re going to be.” Wanda almost growls, dragging you out of the woods and through the backyard. “Aw, does it hurt? Are you crying?” She mocks, noticing the sniffling and the tears falling down your face. “Maybe next time you won’t decide that your clearly empty head can make smart decisions.” She almost throws open the door into the kitchen and steadily makes her way down into the basement, dragging you with her, before throwing you to the ground and locking the door behind you. “Now, let’s have some real fun, shall we?” Wanda grins, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she takes the knife from where she had shoved it in her back pocket.

#alice's fics !#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch smut

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hypewinter · 1 year

Text

Can I offer you another Danny POV in these trying times?

It had started after his encounter with the costumed people. After that his dad had taken him to the store and bought a lot of strange items. From there, he put the strange items together and put them up all around the house. Ever since then, Danny couldn't go through the walls.

Danny pushed against the wall now but he couldn't go through just like all his other past attempts. But if he couldn't go through, how would he play tag with his dad!? Fat tears bubbled up in his eyes as he tried to desperately push through the wall. He liked playing with his dad! It was the best part of the day.

Tears began to fall freely down his cheeks and he let out a whimper as he tried phasing through the floor this time to no avail. Suddenly big hands scooped him up.

Jack tried to soothe his son but Danny was not listening to his assurances that "this was to protect him" and "it was for the best". He was too busy crying while glaring at the strange items covering it. If only they weren't there.

--------

Danny woke up to voices outside his room. One was his dad's but the other was female. He tensed up in fear, remembering the last female voice he encountered, but this one was different. It was younger and for some reason, hearing it filled him with warmth.

"Now's not the time for that Dad." The female voice said.

"No, I won't have my princess sacrificing her education." Replied his dad.

Danny wondered what they were talking about. He was also curious about who the owner of this new voice was. She had called his dad , her dad. Did that mean they were related. That would make them siblings right? He had a sister?

Suddenly a thought came from deep within his mind. Of course I have a sister, her name is Jazz. But his moment of clarity was gone just as soon as it had overtaken him. Danny was left wondering who is Jazz? as he drifted back to sleep.

--------

Jazz as it turned out was his red-headed sister. And although she always wore a smile around him, it was always tinted with sadness. Danny couldn't help but wonder why.

Everything was going great so there was no reason to be sad. Jazz had now moved in, all the neighbors were constantly cooing at him and giving him treats, and Jack had gotten a job with some red person. Wait, did he get hired by Little Red Riding Hood? Maybe she needed a new hunter to help her fight the wolf.

At that thought, Danny couldn't help but look at his father in awe. Every evening when he left, Danny silently hoped he'd catch a lot of bad wolves.

--------

It took a couple of weeks for Danny to find out that while his dad worked for a Red Hood, it was very disappointingly not Red Riding Hood. Instead it was some guy with a white streak in his hair with some very disgusting ectoplasm circulating his body.

Danny made a face and turned into his sister's hold as he came face to face with the guy at the doorway.

"I'm sorry about that." she said to the guy, "He's not usually like this."

"It's ok, babies usually cry in front of me so this is an improvement." he replied.

"Come on Matt, Jason's really nice if you give him a chance!" His father proclaimed. His trademark loudness making the doorframe shudder.

That was the other thing Danny didn't like about this red guy. He had already seen him twice before, when his Dad had taken him in to grab a few forgotten tools.

The first time the guy wore a red helmet. Everyone acted like he was dangerous and shouldn't be messed with. Even his dad was very respectful in his interactions with him.

The second time Danny had seen not Red Riding Hood, he didn't have his helmet on nor did he go by his previous name. Everyone at the garage treated him as if he was one of their own instead of the dominating presence he had been before. In fact, they acted as if "Jason" was a completely different person all together. It was quite strange to say the least. Though Danny wasn't sure he had a leg to stand on considering every time they were in public, his dad would call him "Matt".

Danny had fussed about it a few times but that didn't seem to have any effect. He had finally decided it was fine since he was at least still called "Danny" and "Danno" when they were home. Now though, thanks to this Jason guy, he was even being called that stupid name within his own house! Danny was quickly deciding he didn't like this weird bad ectoplasm guy at all.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @overtherose @seraphinedemort

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #no tag ramble today folks!#currently in the process of getting everything ready to put on ao3 #so hopefully that's coming soon!#we'll see if my schedule likes me enough to cooperate

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itsabouttimex2 · 24 days

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A Brand New Journey:

Part One

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

You’re a good influence, Pigsy eventually comes to think. You come by the restaurant once, occasionally twice a week to study, enjoying both the food and atmosphere. He sees you poring over old books with a quiet fervor, eyes sharply focused on whatever passage you happen to be reading at the moment. It’s only when you bring in a leather-bound copy of Journey to the West that his employee/ward takes notice of you, though.

And MK can’t keep himself from peering over your shoulder as you jot down notes on all of the different demons and foes that Sun Wukong faced throughout the long and arduous journey he went on, and how he dealt with all of them.

“…he tricked those three immortals into doing what?”

You jump nearly out of your skin, dropping your pencil and bumping the table hard enough that noodle broth sloshes out of your bowl, only missing your book because MK snatches it off the table with surprising speed. He looks between you, the book, the broth that’s spilling from the table counter onto the floor, and then back to you. He starts to apologize, only to be cut off by a very irate voice.

“MK! Stop screwing around, and grab a mop already!”

In a fit of panic, he throws the book at you, hitting you square in the stomach and knocking the air out of your lungs. You lurch forward far enough that your face dips into the bowl of jajangmyeon, drenching you in noodles, pork, vegetables and chunjang.

Slowly, you pry your face free from the porcelain bowl, barely able to blink through the hearty meal that coats your face.

And when MK comes dashing back, it’s with a mop and bucket of water in his hands. With the way things have been going so far, you half expect him to slip on the noodle broth and soak you with the contents of the bucket.

He doesn’t, thankfully.

Instead, he drops the bucket onto the floor before jamming the mop in it, causing the contents to slosh messily onto the floor. Then, he outright smothers your broth-drenched face with the mop, slathering your skin with sudsy water.

———————————————————————

To Pigsy’s surprise, you actually do come back after that incident, just a week later. An incident that would’ve cost him any other customer besides Tang seems to have been a minor inconvenience to you.

“The food and service is too good to stay away,” you politely compliment, paying him the way you always do, exact change placed directly into the palm of his hand. “Thank you for the wonderful service.”

You’re all stiff and stilted today, much to his concern. It’s not really like you, is it?

At least, he thinks so. Really, he and MK barely know anything about you in spite of dozens of encounters with you- you’re a welcome presence, their most frequent customer bar the scholar that’s always getting on Pigsy’s nerves.

But they’ve never really spoken to you aside from mild greetings and casual conversation.

This time, you accidentally give them a chance to learn.

In leaving so quickly, you’ve forgotten the book you brought- your copy of Journey to the West.

You’re gone before either of them can call you back for it, so MK takes it to his room for safekeeping- but pauses to take a look at your unusual bookmark.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #MK #Pigsy #Choose Your Own Adventure #A Brand New Journey

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some-pers0n · 4 months

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Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 1 - The Legacy of a Monster

[1] [2]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Turtle and the Jade Winglet have decided to spend a night at the long forgotten Island Palace. Turtle is petrified. This is where Albatross, the mass murdering animus, had killed dozens. But, late into the night, he spots something strange.

The Island Palace was quite possibly the last place Turtle wanted to visit. Why would he? It remains as a scar on Pyrrhia, a reminder of the dangerous potential of animus magic. A stain on the Sea Kingdom's history of what happens when animus magic goes unchecked.

Albatross was not a dragon Fathom wanted to be. A mad dragon. A terrifying murderer. An animus who could not control his own magic. Simply thinking about him made his stomach churn. Knowing that it was a possibility he could end up like Albatross horrified him. He would be better than that monster.

So, hearing that the Jade Winglet wanted to spend a night at the Island Palace was definitely something he was not interested in doing.

Unfortunately, Qibli and Kinkajou were firm in their decision to do just that.

"Oh come on," Qibli said, "it's only one night!"

"We shouldn't...be here," Turtle mumbled. "Isn't this disrespectful? I mean, we are just going to run around in a place where so...so many dragons lost their lives."

"And? It's not like they're alive to see it. They've been dead for a long, long, LONG time," Kinkajou called out. "Who cares? It's going to be fun! Trust us."

"It's supposed to be scary anyway. It's Faust's Hallow. Wouldn't it be a little fun to spend it at some creepy old palace? We rarely get together nowadays, and besides, didn't Queen Coral give us permission for this? Turtle, this is our one chance!"

Turtle reluctantly looked at her, sighing. "If you say so..."

He was never fond of Faust's Hallow. It was a biannual "celebration" of one of the forgotten brother of Imperial, Oracle, and Perception. As the NightWing legend goes, while the other dragons ascended into the night sky to become the moons, Faust remained. He was tied to the world with his earthly connections. Thus, becoming the first-ever spirit. It was the basis for SandWing spirituality, so to say that Qibli was interested in it was most definitely an understatement.

Turtle on the other talon? Well, all he could think about was death and horror. His older brothers took joy in dressing up as ghosts and scaring the living daylights out of the younger ones. Not to also mention the constant imagery of skeletons and mourning, with Coral always having a memorial for her lost daughters.

Then, of course, Albatross himself. The reason they were coming here. A legend was that Albatross's spirit had never passed on. That his soul remained at the Island Palace, restless and still just as mad as the day he died. There had been stories of overly curious and confident dragonets running home after an encounter with Albatross at the Island Palace. But, those were just silly rumours. Little myths. That's what it is, certainly.

Albatross wasn't there. How could he be? Well, the story of Faust was based on him wandering the continent for eternity. Perhaps, maybe- no. It's a made-up story. Turtle wasn't going to fall for some sort of story his brothers would tell to scare him. He already had enough sleepless nights, filled with anxiety and worry over the concept of Albatross still being around.

He's not. He's dead. This was just going to be a nice, if a bit restless, night out in the ruins of the abandoned Island Palace. He will not be scared.

They touched down on the beach around it. If Turtle remembered correctly, this was the Sunrise Beach. It was empty, completely devoid of any sort of life. The palace in front of them was crumbling and tattered. The lavish white walls were discoloured and washed out from weathering an impossible amount of storms. It was covered in moss and sea flora, with barnacles growing on the base of the palace. The light of the setting sun basked the palace in an ominous glow of oranges and purples.

A deep, horrible feeling persisted within Turtle. It made him aware of the light sensation in his claws. The tiny burning from within. Only a little ways away, tragedy had taken place. Two thousand years ago, Albatross, his great-grandfather, slaughtered twenty dragons. He carries the same power he does. Even right now, he could kill all of his friends. One stray thought and who knows what would happen.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Kinkajou bounced ahead. "We've got a whole palace to explore! I call looking on the upper floors with Moon!"

"Wh- me? Uh...okay then?" She stepped forward, following after her. "See you, I guess?" She waved to Qibli and Turtle before disappearing off into the courtyard.

"So, that just leaves me and you." Qibli rested his wing on Turtle, pulling him closer.

"Hurray..."

"Where you wanna go? If they're going up, let's check out the ground floor. Gardens. See some cool old statues that've been crumbling from age."

"What fun..."

Qibli frowned. "Hey, look. I know you're a bit freaked out. You didn't really want to come here. I'm sorry for dragging you along. But, I promise it'll be fun! There's nothing here to hurt any of us. Even if Albatross is still floating around somewhere, I'll be there protecting all of you." He raised his tail, showing off his obsidian-black barb.

Turtle awkwardly chuckled. "I don't think you can really stab a spirit."

"Are you saying I've never fought a spirit before?" the SandWing grinned confidently. "I'll have you know that, as Queen Thorn's personal guard and adoptive son, I had to fend off armies of spirits. Vengeful ghosts of dragons. Such is the way of being queen, I suppose. Anyways, I just need to fight them. Give them the ol' one-two. Beat 'em off with a stick." He swung his arm, mimicking hitting something.

He laughed, feeling his anxieties melt away. Qibli looked back at him, a soft, genuine smile on his face. "Feel a bit better?" He patted him on the back. "Right, let's go exploring."

The experience was dampened by Turtle's constant anxiety, but even then he couldn't doubt the majesty of the palace. Despite its decaying state, it was beautiful. Quiet, with only the sounds of waves crashing in the distance and the gentle trill of the breeze blowing through. Roaming the vast, empty halls was an experience to say the least.

It made him picture the nights that happened in this palace. Legends say that it was originally used for diplomats to rest, but also for parties and special occasions. Turtle, having the soul of a writer, felt his mind wander as he imagined the sorts of stories that would've spawned from such a place. The balls and weddings. The ceremonies and speeches.

...then, of course, there's the massacre, but Turtle would still rather not think about that.

After a long while of exploring through forgotten gardens, they reached the main gathering room. It was central to the rest of the palace, with several collapsed balconies around it. Dried-up ponds and steams littered the floor. In the middle of it all was a large, grand statue of a SeaWing. Despite the ruin around it all, the statue remained somewhat intact. Turtle could even make out the royal blue of which it used to be.

Off to the side was a large archway leading out onto the other beach. The setting sun was just about on the cusp of the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and yellows. The sapphire blue ocean pulled in and out rhythmically. It was as though it was the sea's own heartbeat.

"Woah..." he whispered, awestruck.

"Sure don't see places like this too often." Qibli walked ahead, eyes glazing over every detail.

"Hey!" a voice called from ahead. Turtle looked up, seeing Moon and Kinkajou on a balcony.

"What did you find?" Kinkajou asked.

"Not much. Bunch of gardens. Cool statues in them though," Qibli said. "How about you?"

"Bunch of old bedrooms," Moon replied. "Kinkajou thought she could find some treasure still. Checked all over. Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like it," Qibli said, "palace has been picked clean for centuries. Any chance for any sort of gems are probably all lost."

"Yeah..." Turtle quietly said. "Is anybody else feeling a little tired? Like they don't want to explore a big ruined palace that a bunch of dragons died in anymore and just sleep?"

The SandWing laughed. "I don't know about that."

"I'm feeling a little tired myself," said Moon. "It's been a long day of flying. I can probably lay down with Turtle if you don't mind."

"Oh come onnnn guys!" Kinkajou wined. "This is supposed to be a cool adventure for us! Sleep? Bleh! Gross! I want to stay up all night and look for all of these ghosts. It'll be fun!"

"I know, but...I just want to rest. Besides, this was all mostly for you two anyways." Moon opened her wings, flying down to the ground floor. "Sorry for being disappointingly boring..."

"No, no! It's all good." Qibli waved them off. "It's fine, really. Kinkajou and I can stay up and face those spirits ourselves. Buuutttt if you hear us screaming and calling out for help as we're being chased by a very scary old murderer dragon, you wouldn't mind helping us out, right?"

Moon and Turtle chuckled. "No, not at all." She turned her attention to Turtle. "I guess we can settle down here. I doubt we'll find a blanket of some kind."

"Ah, so we have to lie on the cold, hard floor."

"Yes, probably."

"Hey, if it'll make it up to you, I could try and find something. There's gotta be a stash of blankets that are still around," Qibli said, lifting himself into the air.

"Even after two thousand years?" Turtle asked.

"Worth a shot!" He shrugged, flying up to Kinkajou. "See ya around." He dipped his head before wandering back into the palace with the RainWing, leaving them both to themselves.

"Well, see you in the morning." Moon walked in a circle, patting the ground before lying down.

"Hey, quick question," Turtle said, "do you feel scared?"

Moon tapped her claws. "A little."

"You aren't just saying that to make me feel better, right?"

"Of course! It's just that, you know, being alone in a big palace. Makes me think about Darkstalker and that whole...thing." She sighed. "I know you're freaked out too."

"It's nothing, really. I'm just a little anxious over nothing. Spirits don't last forever, right? They move on. Pass onto some new stage of life we can't even comprehend. I doubt that he would still be here."

"He isn't, and, well, if he is, then we'll do everything to protect you."

Turtle glanced at his talons. There was a gentle tingling within them, a feeling he had only noticed when his magic was briefly taken away. "You shouldn't need to protect me."

"Hm?"

"I have magic, don't I? I should be able to protect myself. I should be the one protecting you in case something goes wrong."

"Nothing's going to happen though."

"I know, but, I still feel like I should be using it in case things happen. Stop being so scared of it. But..."

"But you don't want to end up like Albatross?" Moon asked.

He smacked his lips. "Yeah, pretty much."

She exhaled. "I'm sorry. But, it'll be a nice night, I'm sure. We can just sit and sleep if that makes you happy. The night will pass and we can listen to Kinkajou and Qibli and their adventures in the morning."

"That sounds nice." Turtle laid down next to her, yawning before resting his head against the marble floor. It'll be fine. He just has to sleep. When morning breaks, it'll all be over. When morning comes, Albatross will be gone.

He didn't know what time it was when he woke up. All he knew was that it was dark. Pitch black. Turtle blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the night around him.

He didn't wake up from some nightmare or anything. He didn't dream much these days. Instead, he felt a presence around him. A shift in the air. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was uncomfortable enough to drag him out of his sleep.

Around him were the rest of the group. Kinkajou and Moon were huddled together while Qibli held his wing over Turtle. Looks like the hunt for a ghost didn't turn out so well if they were all asleep here.

He wiggled out from under there, slowly rising to his feet. He looked around, trying to see if it was just his paranoid imagination or if there was really something amiss.

Then, off in the distance, he noticed something. A dim light. A faint glow out by the ocean up ahead.

Immediately, Turtle's stomach dropped. His mind instantly went to the worst thing possible. It was him. He was here and he was going to kill them all. Why would there be glowing right there if not for being the aura of some spirit?

No, no... It's fine. Deep breaths. It's all okay. It's probably a moonlight jellyfish. They glow in the dark. Maybe it washed up on the shore. He could help it out a little. If he did that, then maybe he'd realize there was nothing to be scared of. That there is no ghost. No dangerous, vengeful spirit of a long-dead murderer.

He steadied himself as he walked forward. He repeated to himself over and over that he's got nothing to worry about. It's all okay. He walked up to the edge of the archway, right before his talons would touch the sand.

It was a glowing dragon with a massive spear plunged right through its neck.

His weight slipped beneath his talons and he fell forward. He tried to quickly turn around and fly, but, clumsy as he was, he tumbled and was now barreling towards it. He rolled along the sand like the most terrified armadillo to walk this continent before finally stopping. He froze completely. Paralyzed. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to comprehend what to do.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting for an attack that never came, he sheepishly looked up.

Gazing back at him were two eyes, darker than the night around them. Their scales were a sickening pale grey. The most eye-catching thing of all was the silver spear that was lodged in his throat. Its hilt was stinking out one end, with the blade poking out the other. Faded stains of blood were dotted around his body, the most being around where the spear had hit him. Outlining the body was a gentle blue light that flicked like a lit candle.

The two stayed like that, staring. Turtle did not dare to blink, fearing that one small movement would instantly set him off. This was him. This was Albatross.

"Fathom?" the spirit asked. His voice was calm, if rather confused and surprised. "No, you can't be him. Fathom must have died ages ago. You're someone new. Someone in his likeness."

"...please don't kill me..." Turtle squeaked. He wanted to say something with more meaning. Cast a spell or anything. Yet, he was trapped in his fear. He couldn't think.

Albatross's expression dimmed. "Right. You must be terrified of me. I was so distracted by you looking like my grandson that I forgot about that horrible, horrible night. That night which made me what I am now." He tapped the spear. "Though, I do think you're the one to last the longest when seeing me. Most run. Maybe they'll throw something at me or try attacking me. Never works. Can't exactly kill a ghost, now can you?" He quietly laughed.

Turtle tried speaking again, but all that came out were mere whimpers.

"Goodness, you're petrified of me. I mean, anybody would. I haven't left the palace since the day I died, but I know enough to understand. I've been there when visitors come around. They steal the things out of my own house, cursing me and what I've done. It's upsetting to know what I am remembered as, but I don't blame you for being scared. I don't blame anybody. I should be condemned for what happened."

He finally shut his mouth. The more Turtle looked at Albatross, slowly, the less fearful he was. Granted, he was still very much horrified, but there was an air to the way the spirit spoke that resonated with him. That he was being genuine.

This wasn't what he expected. He pictured Albatross, the mad animus, as a being of chaos that the world has never seen. Some dark, twisted dragon who could barely control himself. He was imagining him to be vicious, bloodthirsty, and wanting nothing more than to kill.

Instead, he seemed mournful. He spoke warmly. There was reason and understanding in his body language. Even if it was idiotic, Turtle let his guard down somewhat.

"How...what..." he stammered.

"How am I here? I couldn't tell you myself. I've never read that much on spirituality and ghosts. But, I'm the only one left here. The rest have all gone away. Yet, I remain. I'm bound to this palace. I can't leave. If there was a way, I would've found it years ago. Then maybe I wouldn't be here, scaring you."

"You sound...sad," Turtle blurted out.

Albatross snorted. "Pff, do I really? I didn't know I sounded so melancholic. I haven't had anybody to talk to in ages. You're good company. Thank you for listening to an old sea dragon ramble, even if you're still scared. I know it's not much to you, but I promise I mean no harm. I've never meant harm. Ever. It's just..." He glanced away, breaking eye contact. "I was emotional. I had no excuse. I let my own instincts and desires take over my own better wishes. Despite doing everything right and trying my hardest to avoid it, it still happened."

He looked back at Turtle. "I'm sorry for what I've done for our tribe. You can run away now. I'll just be happy I had somebody to talk to, even if it was a one-way conversation." He smiled a crinkly, awkward smile.

Turtle stared. Then, he made what should've been the stupidest decision of his life:

He stood up but did not flee. He sat there. "My name is Turtle," he said quietly.

"Turtle?" he echoed. "You aren't flying away screaming?"

"Not unless you give me a reason to, I guess?"

"Isn't looking at a dragon who's killed dozens of dragons in one night enough of a reason?"

"It...should be, but I'm not that scared of you. You seem too sad to hurt me."

"Hurt you? I'd never do that! My magic is limited. I can't do much besides lift some rocks and play around with the water." He waved his talons. Behind him, a small amount of water rose into the air, shaping and twisting into the shape of a bird. A seagull.

"Even if I could do more, I wouldn't dare to hurt another soul. I've already done enough damage," he continued.

"You confused me for Fathom earlier. Your grandson, right?"

"Yes, Fathom." Albatross's eyes narrowed. "You have the wing patterns. You're royalty as well?"

He nodded. "...and I am also an animus."

He barked a laugh. "Really? I've never believed in reincarnation, but you're the spitting image of Fathom if I've ever seen it."

Turtle shuffled his talons. "Thanks. I got that once before."

"Hm? By who?"

"A big evil NightWing who wanted to kill the entire IceWing tribe. He was friends with Fathom as well. How did I meet him if he was alive two thousand years ago? It's a long story."

"Don't we all have long stories to tell." Albatross turned his back to Turtle, staring back at the ocean. "If you don't mind, may you sit next to me? I enjoy watching the sea."

Turtle hesitated, but he followed. He joined the spirit.

It was a tranquil night. A clear sky, the moons beaming down in their full glory. The cool salty breeze brushed against Turtle. Strangely enough, he felt at peace. He never would've thought in a million years he'd say that when right beside him is the ghost of Albatross, but what can you do?

"I'm sorry if this is selfish," Albatross began, "but do you have the time to listen to an old dragon's story?"

"Huh?"

"You seem like a wonderful dragon, Turtle. You're far too sweet than what I deserve. I apologize if it's a bit much, considering how I am still a murderer in your eyes, but could you listen to me tell my story?"

"Your story?"

"My life. Nobody ever heard about it. They only see me as a monster. I am, but I can't help but want something else. I want to tell at least one dragon about it. Set it all straight. Pour my heart out if only to get everything that's been festering inside me out into the world."

"That'd be alright. I like stories."

"It's not a very happy story. There's a lot of tragedy. Too much, now that I think about it. I'm sorry."

"No no! It's alright. I do want to hear it. What life was like for you," he said.

Albatross cracked another smile. "Thank you..." He sounded as though he was fighting back tears.

He waved his talons, the water rising once more. "I suppose I should start it when it all went wrong." The water slowly began to shift into the form of a dragon. "The day when I discovered my magic."

#Anyways I'm probably gonna post the second chapter tomorrow :)#See ya then #Hope you all enjoy this little prologue of sorts #wof #wings of fire #albatross wof #turtle wof #wings of fire fanfic #wof fanfic #sp-writing

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stxrvel · 9 months

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calmly, remember: masterlist

welcome to my calmly remember masterlist! i hope you enjoy your ride and if you want to take a look at my other works this is my principal masterlist. thank u all for your support <3.

summary.

you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapters.

welcome home (1)

after a year of you waking up from your coma and spending months in recovery, Bucky had to start dealing with the fact that his wife had forgotten that they were married and even that they'd ever dated, and that the last memory she had of him was the time he'd "accidentally" abandoned her in a remote town because he thought she was already inside the Quinjet.

loneliness is not my thing (2)

you thought you could get used to having Bucky around if he was always going to be this kind and attentive. besides, that part of your muscle memory that remembered him always played tricks on you and you couldn't stop thinking about whether you should ask him out.

greatest fear (3)

Bucky didn't get a moment's taste of what his life was like before the accident with you, when one incident, one question (who are you) and his worst fear turned his world upside down.

and still (3.5)

behind closed doors and within four silent walls, the rest of the team has a rather curious discussion…

isn't it strange? (4)

with your head completely erased of any memory, you're trying to create your life and your identity from scratch when a strange encounter with a man starts an unfortunate chain of events that will possibly end your sense of sanity and reality.

we need to talk (5)

Bucky had woken up that day without it crossing his mind that he would have two talks that would lead him to discover the truth behind the worst day of his entire life. and maybe you were close to finding out too.

what is it with all these secrets? (6)

when it seemed that everyone in the Complex had disappeared, you took some time to discover yourself and discover some electrifying secrets surrounding your misnamed home.

the voices in my head (7)

after a batch of vivid dreams, you entered your own nightmare with an unknown man in an unknown plane/dimension. that voice in your head finally had a face and seemed to have much more secrets to tell you about the people around you than just saying hi...

more to come...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #calmly remember

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thesnadger · 2 years

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20 Great Horror Podcasts To Fall Asleep And Have Nightmares To

I listen to a lot of horror podcasts, and if you’re looking for a spooky recommendation for October, I am here to provide. These are my personal top ten (not in any order) and ten rapid-fire “honorable mentions” as well.

The Silt Verses – Strange, soothing folk horror. Two followers of an outlawed god travel their deity’s great black river, hiding from a police manhunt and encountering other weird gods that have flourished in forgotten rural territories. There is a god in your fridge, a god in your radio, a god in your deepest regrets, and none of that is a good thing.

The Hotel – Someplace beyond time and space is The Hotel, where guests check in but they don't check out *Vincent Price laugh* instead meeting a violent death at the will of the Hotel. The truly stand out part is the hotel staff, who end up getting most of the focus. The interplay between these terrible monsters who are all trapped in hell together is absolutely fantastic, horror office politics at its finest.

The Magnus Archives – Jonathan Sims’s job is to record statements of encounters with the supernatural. But the more he records, the more connections he makes between these seemingly disconnected tales of terror. A horror/tragedy with a deep emotional core, difficult moral questions, and just the right amount of humor. You’ve already heard of this one why am I even telling you about it, it’s good.

Unwell – Mount Absalom, Ohio is a small town, the kind of place where you don’t lock your doors at night. Where the ghost tour at Fenwood House runs rain or shine. Where buildings still bear the marks of the last great fire in the Burning Woods. Where you might hear echoes of conversations long past in the observatory on Chapel Hill. Unwell is particularly memorable for its fun, colorful characters and for its themes of history and loss. A Midwestern Gothic mystery about family, memories, and the things that haunt us in the end.

Down – A submarine called the Virgil enters a seemingly bottomless Antarctic trench. Its mission: to map the pit and collect samples of any scientifically interesting creatures within. But when an encounter with one of these creatures goes awry, tensions form among the crew, and they begin to wonder how safe they really are. All the while, the Virgil descends … and descends … and descends.

Mockery Manor – It’s the summer of 1989, and people are going missing in Mockery Manor theme park. It’s up to a pair of teenage sisters to unravel the mystery and catch the killer – if they can get past their own traumas and work together. If you like 80s and 90s horror/slasher movies, this one is for you. The audio production values are some of the best I’ve seen, and include in-universe pop songs and wonderfully atmospheric 90s horror synth.

I Am In Eskew – David Ward is lost. He’s found himself in Eskew, a place of steep and winding streets, where the architecture changes at will and the rain never stops. Eskew grips its people tight, and does not let go easily. These are David’s stories of the city that has claimed him, and of someone who is looking for him there.

Gospel Of The Flood – The world is sinking. Slowly, day by day, the continents are vanishing under the waves. This is the age of the Flood. We follow a priest who has lost his faith, as he searches for the people he remembers in this doomed and dying world. A tragedy/existential horror about faith, despair, kindness, cruelty, and the tide that carries it all away.

The Lost Cat Podcast – Our narrator is looking for his cat. It isn’t the nicest cat, nor the most well-behaved, but it is his cat and he misses it. As he searches he encounters many people, many creatures, and some truly terrible things. He’d like to tell you about them. The tone for this one fluctuates from story to story, from genuinely horrifying to purely comedic to incredibly soft and gentle.

Archive 81 – A man named Daniel Powell listens to some audio tapes. This will surely not have severe consequences for anyone. Melody Pendras interviews the tenets of a building where reality wears thin at the edges. A play from golden age of radio brushes against something mankind wasn't meant to hear. Two siblings attempt an occult ritual left by their estranged (and now deceased) father. It's a lot of weird analog horror with fun found footage scattered within.

(Note: Archive 81 is genuinely nothing like the Netflix adaptation of the same name. The plot is entirely different, the characters act differently, the podcast is a surreal cosmic horror while the adaptation is a straightforward demon cult and Netflix made Melody straight. Don’t mention the Netflix adaptation in this household we all hate the Netflix adaptation here.)

Honorable Mentions: (i.e., I like them but for one reason or another they weren’t right for the top ten.)

Midst - More Fantasy/Weird/Western than horror, but if you like horror you’ll love the monsters, the cosmic horror reality storms and the truly weird imagery. The unique narration style is like nothing else I’ve ever heard and keeps the energy high.

The White Vault S1 & S2 – Frozen tundra horror, similar vibes to The Thing, in a found footage format. I mostly recommend the first two seasons, because they’re the most solid and they work as a self-contained story.

Old Gods of Appalachia – Appalachian folk horror, angry ghosts and forest gods. Some characters and threads run through it but largely each season is its own setting and story.

Alice Isn’t Dead – A truck driver searches America for the wife she long assumed was dead. Soft spoken road trip horror slowly unraveling an inhuman conspiracy.

Woe.Begone – More scifi/thriller than horror, but good shit. What begins as a mysterious and violent ARG with real-life consequences becomes a search for the technology that makes the game possible. Great music, fun narrator, dark themes.

Death By Dying – The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho just can’t stop himself from investigating the mysterious deaths he’s supposed to be writing about. Very silly and whimsical, more black comedy than pure horror with big Welcome To Night Vale vibes.

A Voice From Darkness – Parapsychologist Dr. Malcolm Ryder helps those who suffer from supernatural troubles on his call in radio show. I’ll warn that the update schedule is a bit slow and not super consistent.

The SCP Archives – A podcast that takes stories from the SCP Foundation wiki and gives them voice acting, foley and the full audio treatment. Picks a pretty good variety, too.

The Wrong Station – Anthology podcasts are always a little hit and miss, but the fact that The Wrong Station keeps the same writing/VA team from episode to episode really helps keep it consistent. I made a list of my favorite episodes here.

Nightlight – Anthology podcast with creepy stories written by black writers and performed by black actors. Like all anthologies, you’ll like some stories better than others, but they cover a pretty wide range.

#podcasts #podcast recs #horror podcasts #horror podcast recs #scribe don't look #nate don't look

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saintunhinged · 6 months

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Hi I hope your doing ok and your day has been great!❤️

I was wondering if you could write a Muriel x florist reader where when Muriel is making his once in awhile trip into vesuvia he goes past the readers shop and she gives him tulips because he looks sad and he takes them but after he's gone they forget him obv but the next time he comes into town it happens again and again until he finally gives the reader myrrh and then they remember all those times and get really embarrassed

Muriel was a solitary man who rarely ventured into the bustling city of Vesuvia. He preferred the quiet solitude of the forest, where he could be alone with his thoughts. But every once in a while, he would make the journey into the city, where he would inevitably pass by the small florist shop on the corner.

You were kind and gentle soul and noticed when Muriel walked by. He had a somber look on his face, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

As the robust man walked past the shop, you stepped out and handed him a bright red tulip — one that you intended to decorate the shop with, but you felt much happier giving it away to the man who looked like his spirit could be lifted.

“For you.” You simply said, a soft and gentle smile painting your face.

Muriel was surprised, looking between you and the flower as he came to a stop in front of you. “..Why?” He hesitantly asked, confused as to why you were giving him a flower. It wasn’t like he asked for it.

His question didn’t change your mind, and you contined to hold the flower out for him to take. “I just wanted to.”

Muriel huffed, cautiously accepting the gift with a quiet mumble of thanks. He continued on his way, but he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter with the flower in his hand.

The next time Muriel came into town, you were messing around with another bouquet of flowers. Not that you were looking to give them away so soon, but the towering man looked like he could use something to lift his spirits. “You look like you could use these.” You cheerfully say to the man. This time, it was a colorful mix of daffodils and sunflowers. Muriel accepted the gift with a small smile, and he walked away feeling a little less lonely.

This pattern continued every time Muriel made his way into Vesuvia. You would always have another flower to give him, and Muriel would always accept them, everyday more gratefully — even if you forgot about your interaction with him as soon as he pareted ways.

He even began wondering if his appearances in the town were filled with hope of receiving another flower from you.

One day, Muriel returned to your shop with a small pouch of myrrh in his hand. He avoided making eye contact with you, his cheeks burning red. “Here.” He bashfully offered you the pouch.

Curiosity got the best of you as reached for it. It was strange for someone to give you something, especially a person whose body language hinted at him not wanting to interact with you too much.

Holding the pouch of myrrh in your hand, you slowly came to remember how the man wasn’t as unfamiliar to you as you thought. Memories that you were buried in the dark were now coming to light.

You feel your face heat up, embarrassed that you had forgotten him each time he came into town, and each time you had given him a new flower.

Muriel cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s myrrh. Helps you remember things,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

You carefully opened the pouch, revealing the delicate myrrh blooms within. “Remember things? Like what?” you asked, oblivious to the fact that the answer was already unfolding in your mind.

Muriel shifted uncomfortably, his green eyes avoiding contact with yours. “Memories. Stuff that you forgot,” he replied, his voice a low rumble.

As the scent of myrrh filled the air, a flood of forgotten encounters with Muriel rushed back into your consciousness. Your eyes widened in realization, and you felt your face heat up.

“Oh,” you mumbled, a mix of embarrassment and apology in your voice. “I... I gave you flowers before, didn’t I?”

Muriel nodded, sparing a quick glance in your direction. “Yeah. Every time I came to town."

Your cheeks burned hotter. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to forget. I just... didn’t remember.”

“Don’t worry,” Muriel reassured, though his discomfort was palpable. “You weren’t supposed to.” his deep voice was low, barely able to be heard. “The myrrh is supposed to help with that.”

You fidgeted with the pouch in your hands, feeling a mix of gratitude and sheepishness. “Thank you for helping me remember. I feel... really embarrassed."

Muriel scratched the back of his head, a gesture that betrayed his own unease. “Don’t be. I just thought... maybe it’d be better if you remembered.”

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. “I just wish I hadn’t forgotten all those times I gave you flowers."

Muriel’s lips faintly turned into a smile, practically invisible, but he said notthing more.

“Why didn't you stop me before?” you curiously asked the tall man, your eyes reflecting genuine curiosity and a touch of embarrassment.

He simply shrugged, his dark hair falling in front of his scarred face. “Didn’t think it was worth it. It’s easier this way,” he replied, his tone etched with uncertainty, and a hint of awkwardness. “It’s fine. Flowers helped, myrrh just... sealed the deal, I guess.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. "I appreciate it, Muriel. Next time, if there’s a next time, just give me a nudge or something."

He chuckled, a rare sound that warmed the conversation. “I’ll keep that in mind. You seem to like flowers, so...”

You laughed, breaking any lingering tension. “Yeah, I do. And now I won’t forget you, or the flowers I gave you.”

“...That’s a start.”

You were relieved and decided to lighten the mood. “I hope to see you around more now that I know who you are. Flowers or not, it’d be nice.”

Muriel’s eyes softened and his cheeks flushed red, a hint of something akin to happiness flickering in them. But, he found it challenging to express himself verbally. Instead, he nodded, the acknowledgment of your words etched in his quiet demeanor.

You smiled warmly, appreciating the unspoken understanding. “Take care, Muriel. See you around, hopefully.”

And with that, Muriel nodded again, his gaze lingering for a moment before he quickly turned to leave. As you watched him walk away, there was a subtle shift in the air. The cycle of forgotten encounters had been broken, and the prospect of future interactions brought a quiet contentment to your heart.

#the arcana #the arcana x reader #the arcana x mc #the arcana x you #muriel the arcana #the arcana fic #muriel the hermit #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel the mountain man #muriel x reader #the arcana muriel #muriel #muriel x apprentice #muriel x mc

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morgana96 · 2 years

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Trying to Debunk Things the FFXIV Fandom Keeps Making Up About Lyse Hext

(Warning: Stormblood MSQ Spoilers Under the Cut)

I’ve been playing FFXIV for a few years now. It was my first time every playing a Final Fantasy game, and I was nervous I wouldn’t be any good at it. But FFXIV has been a huge comfort and highlight in my life. It’s gotten me through some very tough times and has really inspired me creatively. Not to mention I've met some really great people through the game, and that the community has so many nice and talented people.

But just like any other fandom, things are far from always perfect. There are fans who engage in offensive and gross behavior, fans who are toxic about how to best play - there are plenty of issues this fandom has that most of us are already aware of. But one thing that I think about a lot - although it's far from the only thing - is the strange amount of malice certain fans display when talking about the character Lyse Hext.

I couldn't understand for the longest time why some players hated Lyse so much. Personally, I enjoyed Stormblood, and I like her character. I enjoyed seeing her learn to step out of her sister's shadow and start to become her own person, and I consider her to be one of many characters who my WoL happily considers a good friend.

So it baffled me that people hated her so intensely. I get that not every character clicks with everyone, and that people have varied tastes. But the absolute vitriol some people treat her with has always confused me. That is, until I eventually realized what part of the problem is.

You see, I'm convinced that a good number of Lyse haters weren’t paying thorough attention to Stormblood’s plot. That, or they’ve simply forgotten certain details with time. Because most of the things they accuse her of or site as reasons for their hatred LITERALLY NEVER HAPPENED IN THE GAME.

There are so many accusations I've seen thrown around about her, and nearly all of them are something taken out of context, misremembered, or just straight up made up.

So what I want to do is go over some of the biggest accusations this fandom has perpetuated about Lyse and debunk those that are untrue or based on misunderstanding.

People who've followed me for a while probably know I used to do this all the time back in my Naruto fandom days. I’ve seen some really wild takes from that fandom, and still do occasionally even though the original manga ended nearly a decade ago.

But while I had to wade through a lot of nonsense back then, I really enjoy breaking down stories and characters in order to prove my perspectives. So I’d like to get back into it (especially since I’ve been struggling with focus issues, and this gives me interesting subjects to focus on!)

So let's get started:

“Yda was better than Lyse.”

Let's get something straight right of the bat. The “Yda” these players claim is “better”? That person's not real.

In the game’s timeline, the original 1.0 takes place in 1572, and the true Yda died in 1571. In other words, the “Yda” with Papalymo in 1.0 is Lyse. Apparently, legacy WoLs do encounter the real Yda via Echo visions from before 1.0, but the “Yda” they are with during 1.0 and beyond has always been Lyse. (I am not a legacy/1.0 player, so I'm using resources like the lore books and short stories to get this information.)

So what this means is that unless you are a legacy WoL, you never even knew or saw anything of the real Yda. It was always Lyse.

Everyone in the Circle of Knowing already knew this. Remember, it was Papalymo who asked them not to say anything; he recognized it as a coping mechanism for Yda's death, and he wanted Lyse to figure out for herself that she should not hide herself in her sister's shadow and legacy.

And deep down, Lyse had a feeling the others knew. She just didn't voice this, which is described as her “deciding not to know” that they knew. She even admits that she wasn't trying to truly “become” Yda, so it’s unlikely that she was really changing her personality all that much from what it usually is.

So I can't help but be annoyed when people insist they “liked Yda better”. Not only because I don't think Lyse's personality changed much from when she was “Yda”, but also because people who make this claim fail to see how ridiculous they sound.

The lie was a better character?

You see Lyse’s grief response to losing her older sister as a better character?

You hate that Lyse finally chose to let Yda go and try to become her own person? And preferred the lie?

What a weird hill to die on.

“Lyse didn’t do anything for the Resistance before my WoL showed up”

This is what I’m talking about when I say there are definitely players who just weren’t paying attention and instead make up whatever best fits their own biases.

Lyse and Papalymo were working with the Ala Mhigan Resistance since the end of A Realm Reborn. With a great deal of effort, Conrad managed to get them to Rhalgr’s Reach after the events of the Bloody Banquet, and the two of them pretty much spend the whole time after that working directly with Conrad’s faction of the Resistance until you finally manage to find them again towards the end of Heavensward and right before Stormblood begins

Lyse is not some stranger to them by the time your WoL crosses Baelsar’s Wall. By the time you get there, she’s already become close with Conrad, M’naago, and Meffrid. She’s already gone on countless dangerous missions with the Resistance and engaged directly in conflicts with imperials on their behalf. All of this is made clear in both the MSQ and the extra stories online.

I get so frustrated when blatant misinformation like this gets passed off as canon. How are you going to accurately criticize a character when you don’t even remember major parts of the story you’re criticizing? It makes no sense.

“Lyse stole the credit for saving Ala Mhigo from my WoL!!”

Yeah, no. She didn’t.

I’m not even going to pretend to humor this one. It doesn’t deserve it. It’s a lie. A straight up lie. It literally never happened.

But you know what the most annoying and sad thing about it is? This stupid claim is the exact opposite of how Lyse actually behaves throughout the game.

Lyse is seen regularly talking about how much she looks up to the WoL. She talks so much about how they inspire her, whether directly to them or to others when they’re not around. One of the biggest parts of her arc is getting over her fear of not living up to “true heroes”, including her family and the WoL. Hell, when people rightfully thank her for her efforts, she downplays it as simply doing the right thing and not something anyone needs to thank her for.

And when the WoL finally beats Zenos and Ala Mhigo finally becomes free, do you know what she says?

“You beat [Zenos], after all. You’re the real hero of this story. So run along and take your plaudits!”

How media illiterate does someone have to be to think that THIS is a character who’s “stealing credit”?

So no, Lyse Hext did not “steal credit” from your WoL. In fact, your WoL honestly just sounds like a delusional, self-important prick.

“Lyse didn't earn being the leader of Ala Mhigo/ the Resistance! It should have been Raubahn or M'naago!”

There are quite a few big issues with this one:

1 - Lyse is NOT the leader of Ala Mhigo, nor is she the leader of the entire Resistance.

Raubahn is.

Raubahn is Ala Mhigo's acting head of state. He's the one who is now the main head of the Resistance, which is the city-state's official military now that the Empire has lost control there.

I can’t even count how many people I’ve seen shouting about how “Raubahn should have been in charge!”, when he already IS in charge. And basically almost NO ONE ever fact checks anyone else on this.

These players are literally accusing Lyse of stealing a position she doesn’t have from a man who is, in fact, already in said position.

It’s wild.

2 - Lyse is currently the commander of the Resistance troops at Rhalgr’s Reach in the Fringes. That’s it.

The story makes it very clear that the Resistance was originally not headed by any one leader. There were multiple factions with different leaders, and they didn’t always get along and often had different perspectives on how best to free Ala Mhigo.

For instance, it was the Griffin specific faction of the Resistance, led by Ilberd, that attacked Baelsar's Wall. This branch of the Resistance was not affiliated with Conrad, and in fact, some of Conrad's group and fighters from other groups went to join the Griffin after being taken in by his words.

And because of the slaughter Ilberd purposely led those people into to summon Shinryu, many Ala Mhigans became wary of all factions of the Resistance for a time, even though they weren't necessarily affiliated with the Griffin’s faction.

The Resistance only recently began transitioning into an official military unit, rather that countless factions doing their own thing. Lyse is specifically in command of the group at Rhalgr’s Reach, because that was Conrad’s group. She’s NOT in charge of anyone else’s faction.

My guess as to the current chain of command is that the other factions are still being led by their respective leaders, and that since Raubahn now leads them as a whole, they (including Lyse) fall under his command and answer to him.

And as I said before, The Rhalgr’s Reach Resistance are not strangers to her, nor is she a stranger to them; she’s been working with and helping them since the end of ARR. It’s only because so many people refuse to acknowledge this that they’re convinced she’d done “nothing”, or that they somehow would see her as unfit.

3 - There are few things as universally annoying in fandom spaces than fans pitting women who are canon friends against each other. And unfortunately, this is exactly what I see happen most of the time with Lyse and M’naago.

Now unlike some of the other things I talk about in this post, I can at least understand some of the frustration regarding these two. After all, M’naago has been with the Resistance for a longer time.

But once again, this ends up tainted by people’s weird obsession with outright vilifying Lyse and everything she does. She’s not some evil schemer trying to usurp M’naago, and M’naago isn’t her bitter rival or victim. They are clearly very close - Lyse referring to her as “Naago” is a big deal in Seeker culture - and their stories on the lodestone makes it pretty clear to me that they care far more about each other and working to save their homeland than titles and mantles of leadership.

Honestly, I think a lot of people like to forget how much Lyse tried to reject becoming a leader. She was constantly comparing herself to others, and as a result, she considered herself unworthy of such a role and convinced herself it was something you needed a natural talent for. She was the one who insisted that being related to Curtis and Yda wasn’t enough to make her a good leader. It was only when she accepted her own limitations and imperfections that she finally accepted that role. She had to sort her own personal feelings out before she was ready to take on that responsibility.

One of the things I love about Lyse is that she’s a wonderfully flawed character; she has a lot of doubts, but she is trying her best to improve herself, instead of constantly wondering if she’s living up to someone else’s legacy. She’s not a Warrior of Light, or a decorated Archon. But she’s passionate, determined, and always willing to learn from others while she tries to become who she wants to be. In my eyes, that’s what Conrad’s talking about when he tells her she can become a leader. And regardless of what anyone else says, I enjoyed watching her start to come into her own.

“Lyse is a White Savior.”

This issue is much more complex than the other things I’ve brought up here. So I want to start out by making some things clear from the start.

As a black woman, I think one of the only well-founded criticisms regarding Lyse is her pale completion compared to her father Curtis, whose skin is much darker. Colorism is a serious and ongoing issue in entertainment media industries. It’s my belief that Lyse’s character design is a perfect example of that issue. And we as a fandom should absolutely acknowledge and criticize it.

However, I also disagree strongly with anyone who refers to Lyse as “a white savior”.

To provide some background information, “white savior” is a term connected to the long history of white people colonizing, oppressing, and denying agency to non-white people. Its concept originates from the racist ideology known as “The White Man's Burden” (named after a pro-imperialism poem), which falsely claims that white people are morally obligated to "save" people of color from themselves and their "savagery", thus justifying their colonization and cultural genocide. It’s also recognized as a common trope in media, where a white person - usually a white man displaced from white society - is made into the leader or liberator of a group of people of color, thus making said white person the focus of a story that doesn’t actually affect them the way it affects the marginalized.

There are two main reasons why I disagree with calling Lyse a white savior:

1 - Like I’ve already said, I 100% think Lyse’s character design is flawed. But something that’s very important to note here is that Ala Mhigo/Gyr Abania is not a homogeneous society some players seem to think it is.

Like a lot of the other regions in Eorzea, Gyr Abania has a diverse mixture of the world's fantasy races, including Hellsguard Roes, Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te, and both Highlander and Midlander Hyurs. But Gyr Abania is also not homogeneous when it comes to skin color. There are characters and NPCs throughout the Gyr Albania areas with varying skin tones. Some are fair, some are dark, and some are somewhere in between.

The problem with Lyse’s character design is that she’s suspiciously fair skinned despite being the daughter of a clearly dark-skinned man.

But what I tend to see people turn that into is “Lyse is too fair skinned to be Ala Mhigan”.

Fordola is fair skinned. M’hahtoa, M’naago’s mother, and several other members of the M Tribe are fair skinned. There are multiple NPCs across the Gyr Abanian maps that have fairer skin (some are named/can be spoken to, while others are unnamed/background NPCs).

I don’t think I’ve ever seen these characters brought up when people start talking about Ala Mhigan ethnicities. Maybe someone out there has and I simply missed it. But as far as I can remember, I’ve only seen Ala Mhigan skin tones brought up when someone is calling Lyse, and no one else, “too pale to be Ala Mhigan”. It doesn’t work to make this claim because Ala Mhigan is not a race; it's a nationality which is made up of multiple races, and those races seem to have varied skin tones based on what we see in the actual game.

Now remember, this is in no way a recant of my stance. I think Lyse should be closer in skin tone to her father. But the white savior label doesn’t work in this context because despite the problems with her design, Lyse is an Ala Mhigan refugee; not some random foreigner coming into Gyr Abania with no understanding of their history and plight. It’s not enough to claim she’s “too pale to be Ala Mhigan”, because Ala Mhigo/Gyr Abania isn’t homogeneous like that.

2 - When it comes to white saviorism, there’s a very specific privilege and ignorance that comes with it. The reason why it’s offensive is because it makes a white person the focus of a situation that they can’t and don’t truly understand. A story’s white savior - whether consciously or unconsciously - symbolizes white ego and narcissism. And frankly, I do not think that was ever the intention of Lyse’s story.

There’s a big difference between a white savior’s intrusion into a foreign country and a refugee returning to their homeland after many years. While only Lyse’s early years were spent in Ala Mhigo, she is not completely removed from it like people seem to think she is. It’s very clear she remembers her time there, and has clear memories of life with her father and sister.

She was only five when Yda got her out - right at the start of the Garlean occupation - and because of this, she initially doesn’t know how to convince other Ala Mhigans that the fight for their home is still worth it. Her love and hope for a better Ala Mhigo is mistaken for ignorance, because many have been so worn down by the loss and bloodshed that it’s considered suicide to fight back anymore.

Stormblood does a great job of showing how imperialism wears down its victims. The hopelessness felt by many in Ala Mhigo and Doma is the result of years of violence, abuse, and cruelty, and that’s exactly the imperials’ intention; an oppressor wants to break the will and spirit of the oppressed as much as they can, conditioning them to normalize their mistreatment in order to diminish threats to their control.

Characters like Fordola also help show how imperialists manipulate the oppressed to work against their own best interests. All of Fordola’s actions are driven by the misguided idea that working with the Empire would “free” Ala Mhigo. She was convinced that as long as she fought and killed for them, she’d eventually prove that Ala Mhigans are worthy of the Garleans’ respect. But that was never going to happen. It was a tactic to indoctrinate young Ala Mhigans and maintain the imperial status quo. And sadly, Fordola fell deep into that trap.

This is the real cause for Lyse’s initial disconnect. It’s not because of privilege or bias, or a lack of personal connection to Ala Mhigo. It’s founded on the fact that she simply hasn’t experienced the Empire’s relentless tyrannical tactics the same way those who remained in Gyr Abania have.

But this doesn’t mean she hasn’t dealt with loss and fear. Both her father and sister were killed by the Garleans. She’s experienced displacement and having to flee from your home to survive. She’s lost comrades and close friends while with the Scions. This isn’t some naive little girl who doesn’t know the pain that comes with battles and war.

The biggest challenge for the main cast of Stormblood wasn’t just physically fighting the Garleans. It was about a shared sense of pain and loss, and trying to break through the hopelessness the people of Ala Mhigo and Doma were feeling.

Lyse, the WoL, and the other characters aren’t doing what they do for glory. They’re not claiming to know better than the Ala Mhigans and Domans. They’re not trying to take their agency away. They’re trying to convince them to take back their own agency and futures from the Garleans. It’s about understanding their pain, their loss, and their fear, and trying to help them rediscover the strength to keep fighting for themselves. At least that’s what it was to me.

And speaking of the Garleans, it’s wild how I don’t see more people bring up their similarities to white saviorism.

So many Garleans refer to non-Garleans as “savages” and treat them as second class citizens in the provinces.

They insist that their societies and faiths are “primitive”, and that this justifies their invasions and conquests.

They outlaw cultural and religious practices and force their own practices in their place, all under the guise of “civilizing” conquered people and saving them from themselves.

They propagandize themselves as selfless heroes, and people like the WoL as the monstrous villains. “We’re simply trying to rescue these poor, deluded “savages” from themselves and their eikons. Why are you mad?”

And when people fight back and reject them, the Empire plays victim. Take Varis for instance; during that meeting with the Alliance, he targets the very valid issues the Eorzean nations have. But that’s not because he actually cares about fixing those problems; he’s literally just gaslighting them and trying to justify Garlemald’s false sense of supremacy.

It’s all right there. It’s literally a perfect fictional example of the racism, narcissism, and backwards logic of imperialism.

Yet somehow, I’ve see Lyse, an Ala Mhigan refugee, called a “white savior” more often than Garlean imperials.

It’s frustrating, to say the least.

~~~

Well, these are pretty much all the main accusations I’ve seen thrown at Lyse since I’ve started the game. If I think of anything else, or if someone gives me something else to look at, I will add on to this.

I don’t know if I’m changing any minds with this, or even if anyone even has the time or patience to read through this whole post. But it’s feels good to finally write out a lot of my thoughts on this subject after so long. I’d like to do this on more subjects relating to FFXIV, including ways I think certain parts of story could have been improved.

But that’s or another day. Thanks so much for reading ~

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Lyse Hext #Character Discussion #Fandom Things #Long Post #like stupidly long lmao #if you make it through this congrats #this is the longest thing I've written in a long time #considering how much i struggle with focusing #this is a big achievement for me

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nestypewriter · 7 months

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Unexpected Journey

[Male! Ryoba x FEMreader]

{Warning ⚠️: yandere tendency, emotional manipulation}

[Disclaimer: I want to emphasize that I do not endorse or support this type of behavior. This content is purely for entertainment purposes.]

Inspired by the basement tape #10 in yandere simulator

The afternoon light streamed through the window as you absentmindedly brushed your hair. Your vanity was cluttered with skincare and makeup, but your attention was drawn to a box of VHS tapes that was peaking out of the bed, each triggering a wave of unsettling memories.

You set the brush down, compelled by an unseen force, and opened the box. Inside, the tapes evoked dread. At the top, a forgotten tape recorder beckoned, your fingers instinctively finding its buttons.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadowy figure approached the door, and your mind went blank as you mindless slide across the buttons on the tape recorder before stopping at the red record button.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, startling you. Your trembling hand accidentally triggered the record button. You quickly spun around to see your husband, Ryoba, wearing a mischievous grin.

"Oh, my apologies, darling. Did I startle you?" he asked playfully, breaking into laughter.

You stood up, your voice quivering. "I-it's just that you caught me off guard, dear," you stammered, cursing your own nervousness.

"I'm sorry, love. After all these years, you're still so easily frightened," he said as he approached you, his affection strangely twisted "But I do love that about you" he purred.

Before you could pull away from his embrace, his grip tightened, and he noticed the open box, a sly smile forming. "What do we have here?" he inquired. "Are you reminiscing about our early days?" he added, looking at you for confirmation.

You nodded, not wanting to provoke his anger. He smiled with genuine joy and pulled you closer. "Ah, you're so adorable, my sweet," he murmured before stepping back slightly, still holding you.

"So.., what got you so excited, dear?" you ventured, your curiosity piqued. "I'm so glad you asked," he exclaimed. "You see, I just encountered someone I haven't seen in decades—actually, it's the first time he's seen ME in decades."

"Who are you talking about?" you inquired, your curiosity growing. Ryoba's grip on you tightened. "Aren't you the least bit curious?" he said, though his smile appeared forced. "Don't worry, darling. No one will ever take my beloved wife away from me," he declared, nuzzling your cheek.

"No one would ever dream of it, dear..." you sighed, the mystery of the encounter still gnawing at you.

"So, who did you see today?" you pressed, studying his face. "Oh, I'll tell you on our way to the airport," he replied, evading your question.

"Airport!?" you exclaimed, seeking more information, but he remained elusive. Instead, he kissed your lips and announced: "That's right, dear. Pack your bags, sweetheart! We're going to America!" he declared, leaving you in shock.

"We can't do that!" you protested, refusing to believe his words. "What about your job?" you questioned, but he simply smiled. "Don't fret, my dear. I've already spoken to my boss, and he was VERY understanding," he explained. You nodded, though still dissatisfied. "How long will we be gone?" you asked, hoping it wouldn't be too long. "I'm not sure, darling. It all depends on how quickly I can track him," he said, gazing upward with wonder.

Frustration built up inside you, and you clenched your fists. "And what about our daughter? Tomorrow is her first day of high school," you reminded him, unwilling to leave her alone.

"Well, if she takes after her dear old father, then she have absolutely no problem whatsoever in taking care of herself !" he chattered, leaving you in shock. "Oh, I hope she meets someone special! It would be delightful if she had a boyfriend by the time we return!" he continued, but you muttered, "I hope not."

Ryoba's keen ears caught your murmur. "What was that, darling?" he inquired, eager to hear. You feigned innocence. "Nothing, sweetie."

He clapped his hands together. "No more dilly-dallying, my love! We must get ready," he urged, but you had a different idea. "What if... you go alone, and I'll stay to take care of Ayano while you deal with this..." you proposed, but your husband clearly disapproved.

In an instant, he grabbed your arms, pulling you closer. "Do you think I would allow that?" he chuckled, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm not a fool, darling," he said, his grip tightening, his fingers digging in, surely will leave bruises. "You will come with me,

No. Matter. What," he threatened, and you nodded, fearfully submitting. His face reverted to its gleeful expression as he kissed your forehead and released his tight hold.

"Let's get ready, shall we?" he suggested, looking to you for agreement. "Let me prepare dinner for Ayano before we leave," you requested, glancing at the floor, dreading his reaction. Suddenly, you found yourself enveloped in a warm hug. "You're such a caring mother," he cooed, planting kisses all over your face.

You tapped his back, signaling for him to ease up, which he did, and you finally broke free from his embrace. "Certainly, darling, but make it quick; we have a flight to catch!" he exclaimed, departing from the room to retrieve something.

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the box and noticed the tape recorder was still recording. "Oh, it's still on; I must have accidentally hit record," you mumbled, then sighed again. "I hope you never discover these, Ayano," you whispered before pressing the stop button and carefully tucking the box away beneath the bed.

As you rose and headed towards the kitchen, you decided to prepare a large meal that would last for quite some time, at least a week for ayano. After all, who knew what lay ahead on this unexpected journey to America?

This is one for you (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡ @flipu5

#yandere drabble #yandere ryoba x reader #yander simulator x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #ryoba x reader #male! ryoba x reader

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tugoslovenka · 8 months

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Flowers & Honey

I have returned to tumblr after about 8-9 years. I have no idea what's going on, but I do know that Halsin is a man that needs more smut written about him.

Here's my attempt.

I also post on ao3, if you would be so kind to visit!

She could not tear her eyes away. Not since their encounter in the grimy, neglected dungeons of the Temple of Selûne that is.

When they reached the cage, her Potion of Animal Speaking had worn off, which is also when she found herself face-to-face with a ferocious brown bear that had almost singlehandedly dispatched a group of goblins on watch duty.

Edith had certainly not anticipated that the beast would transform into a tall, muscular, and, well, rather handsome elf after the battle had ended. He introduced himself as Halsin, the First Druid of the Emerald Grove — and was certainly the largest elf she had ever laid her eyes on.

From that moment in the goblin camp to her current absentminded lip chewing while sat on a rickety stool in a long-forgotten inn in the depths of the Shadowlands, Edith was fairly certain she had spent a significant portion of the past few days unabashedly staring at the man's backside.

He had been polite even after she helped him solve a dispute between the Tieflings and the Druids in the Grove. Even after he had spotted some of her other companions rushing into the woods with partners of their choosing. Even after she mustered the courage to subtly invite him as well.

Too polite for her liking.

Edith's temper ran hot most days, but there was something about his gentle demeanor, his knack for resolving conflicts, his ability to discern people's intentions, and his overall kind-hearted nature that ignited a fiery passion within her, turning that spark into a full-blown wildfire.

That rang especially true after an incredibly difficult encounter with the cursed creatures and Shadows a little ways away from Last Night Inn - where she was almost certain she was going to lose him were it not for some of Shadowheart’s clerical abilities.

A few days had passed since then, and Halsin was reunited with Thaniel’s complete self. Edith still couldn't decipher some of his riddles or understand how this young boy would aid them in their battle against Thorm. She did however know not to ask too many questions on this journey, since it had gone well beyond strange.

Halsin had his back turned to her, focused on mending the broken wooden floor of the inn. They were alone in the room, bathed in the soft glow of a lantern in the corner where she perched. True to form, he declined her offer to help, since, as he noted, she had already done a world of favors to him and the others.

“Do you always study people, Edith?”

Edith’s concentration was broken momentarily when he spoke. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. Could he be hearing her thoughts? There were a couple of Potions of Mind Reading left around the place and she sincerely hoped he didn’t drink one in the past hour.

She cleared her throat and gently let herself stand on two feet. “What do you mean?”She could hear a soft chuckle come from him. “You have been observing my movements for quite some time now.” Halsin said. She tried to ascertain if he was annoyed or offended by the notion, but she couldn’t sense any irritation in his voice.

She supposed this was as good as time as any.

With a quiet prayer to all the Gods, Devils and Demons in the Forgotten Realms, she crossed her arms. “And what of it?” she challenged, a smirk forming on her lips.

Halsin turned to her in that instant, still kneeling on the floor. Even at this height, his head could probably reach the tops of her chest.

“I may be a few centuries your elder, but I am not ignorant of people’s advances. You certainly do not hide your desire for me.” he spoke in a low tone, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Edith involuntarily laughed at his comment. “Well, you’ve also made it quite clear that you want nothing to do with my advances, which is why, I study from afar.” she retorted in response.

“I have never denied your advances, sweet Baldurian. The only time you have sought my companionship was in a very intoxicated state, and I did not wish for you to have any regrets going forward.” he explained, rising to his feet in the process.

His tall frame overshadowed hers. She was not the smallest human, but she was also acutely aware of the size difference between them. Her head barely reached his ribcage. She reckoned she could fit two of her frames into one of his.

“Maybe I needed some liquid courage to get me going.” she murmured, trying her best to remain in control while she felt a pool of heat form in her belly.

“Aye, but I would have preferred you in a sobered state, where we can explore each other to our heart’s content.”

Edith felt as though time had stopped upon hearing that. She reached behind her back to pinch at her skin, making sure she hasn’t been put to sleep. Before she could respond though, Halsin slowly made his way to her until she could feel his breath graze her face.

They had never been that close before. Not even during her embarrassing attempt at trying to seduce him had she smelled his scent. Wood, with a hint of sweat and a plant she could not recognize. She saw a small bead of sweat run down his forehead until it reached his cheek.

Halsin's hand extended, hovering just before her face. "Have I misunderstood your intentions, little flower?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly.

Little flower. It was a nickname he had given her on account of her flower picking. Having been born and raised in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate, lush gardens and vibrant plants were not a sight she was familiar with, hence her need to collect some for her notebooks along the way.

"No," she replied, though she couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty as her senses overcame her. "I... We're not— There are people around."

Halsin smiled in response. His outstretched hand lowered until he held hers, which felt small and delicate in comparison. His gaze moved upwards to the ceiling, where Edith knew there was a private bath for the inn's residents to wash away the day's grime.

Without saying any other word, he began making his way through the hallways, keeping her close by while Edith tried to process what was happening. This man was good at hiding his intentions and feelings, and she was good at, well, not, but even she couldn’t help but be taken by his grace and intimidating presence.

Usually, being the loudmouth that she was, she would have opted to respond with a sly comment or attempt a few witty comebacks. However, not a word escaped her lips as her legs seemed to move on their own, following Halsin up to the second floor of the tavern, where a few Harpers were on patrol.

By the time Edith had thought of a response to give him, they were both already in the small, makeshift storage room that had one wooden bath in the center of it. The only light was the translucent glow from Isobel’s protective spell, which also illuminated Halsin’s large body as he began taking his garments off.

Edith stood there, suddenly feeling insecure as she wrapped her hands around herself. Halsin didn’t pay her any attention for the time being, ensuring to pour an adequate amount of water into the bath and tempering a metal basin with the Heat Metal spell as he mixed both thoroughly.

Once he was satisfied with the temperature, he turned his body towards hers. Her eyes immediately fixated themselves on his lower half, widening slightly once she saw his member. He was quite well-endowed, even when not standing at full attention.

Seemingly taking note of her nervousness, Halsin outstretched his hand, smiling warmly as he did so. “I realize those who do not spend their time in the wilderness are not as comfortable being in the nude, but you should not be afraid of your own body, little flower. The contours of your form are a tapestry of nature’s wonders - a mosaic of petals and blooms, an ode to the beauty of this world.”

Gods damn this man and his mouth.

Edith nodded, only being able to muster an “okay” in response. Or maybe an incoherent mumble. She wasn’t entirely too sure.

Halsin raised her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss there before stepping into the bath. He stood waiting, a small smile playing on his lips once he saw Edith begin to step out of her garments, and then her smallclothes. She lightly grasped his hand as she carefully got into the tub.

The water was not too cold nor too hot, just perfect enough to calm the goosebumps on her skin as she lowered herself. Halsin had some difficulty in managing the manouver, scooting a few times until he finally found the right position. His knees were poking out of the water and on either side of Edith’s arms.

It was honestly a shock they had both managed to fit and not break or overflow the whole bath.

Halsin reached for some soap with one hand, while the other took hold of her hair. “Tell me, little flower.” he began massaging her scalp, making sure to dip the bar into the water before squeezing some of the soapy water onto her curls. “What is it you require of me?”

“Mmm,” Edith murmured as she slumped back onto Halsin’s chest. “Where do I start?”

Halsin leaned in until his lips found the crook of her neck. “Your efforts in helping my cause have gone above and beyond what I had expected. It is only right of me to return the favor in whatever manner you see fit.”

Edith responded with a hum. In truth, she did not anticipate any of this tonight, although she had experienced countless nights fantasizing about something similar. It always began with his fingers. Something about them, meaty and large, roaming their way across her body made her insides tingle.

She heard the sound of something small falling into the water. A beat later, his other arm wrapped itself around her belly.

So much for the bath, she thought.

“In truth, I too have desired you for quite some time now.” Halsin confessed, gently arranging a row of kisses from the crook of her neck to her shoulder blade, stopping momentarily before moving her hair so that he could reach the other side. “I was just hoping, and maybe praying to the Oakfather, that you would make an advance soon.”

“Have you, now?” Edith giggled, closing her eyes so that she could fully appreciate his affection. A moment later, the hand on her stomach reached up until she felt her nipple being tweaked, grazed over and gently pulled.

“That sound,” Halsin growled, moving his head forward until she could see his gaze from the corner of her eyes. “Do not make it unless you wish for me to lose control.”

“Halsin, that is precisely what I was hoping would happen for the past few—”

Edith gasped when she felt his fingers quickly retract from her nipples and nestle themselves between her legs. He traced the lines of her lips teasingly, and it wasn’t long before he stopped his middle finger on her clit, gently rubbing it.

It enticed a surprised moan from Edith. “Halsin…”

“How I have longed to hear you sing for me, little flower.” he confessed, keeping a slow and steady rhythm on her clit while she continued to whimper. Edith was certain everyone in the tavern could hear her noises, but she chose not to engage her current mind with future worries.

Her hips began to unconsciously grind against his fingers as she attempted to help guide him to more of her needs. “I don’t think you realize how much I have— how much I’ve— needed this. It’s not going to take much— much to make me come.” Edith moaned, turning her head so that it was resting between his neck and shoulder blade.

His looked at her. “Your eyes, my heart. They are glazed like the morning mists.” he said huskily before leaning to kiss her deeply. It was one way to swallow out her moans, because her tongue soon reached out to capture his.

The ministrations didn’t take long to get her close to the edge. What wasn’t exactly helpful was his pace, steady and slow, torturously so, but with enough pressure that she felt her hips buckle at the finger that stroked her clit. Halsin seemed to notice and switched his middle finger with this thumb, while his hand moved lower to reach her opening.

The pleasure she thought was experiencing only heightened when she felt not one but two fingers enter her gently. Edith had spent a decent amount of time getting herself off in a similar fashion, but nothing could compare to his thick digits pumping inside her — curling to the hilt as she cried out in surprise.

“You are so sensitive, little flower.” he mused, increasing the pace of his fingers while doing so. “Like a primrose, or maybe even a poppy. Do you think I could fit another finger in?”

Edith panted in response, feeling completely distracted at his words and movements. All she could focus on for the time being was the toe-curling pleasure he gave her. “Yes. Yes, please, Halsin. I need… I need—“

Halsin watched her closely, giving her temple a kiss as he moved a third finger between her legs. “You’re doing well. I can smell your release coming.”

She couldn’t stop the whine that escaped her lips once three fingers well well and truly nestled between her legs. It was almost painful, had it not been for her muscles being stimulated for some time. Her chore ached angrily and his words only helped spur on the pleasure.

Halsin groaned when he felt her squeeze his fingers, his lips moving to nip at her neck hungrily. “I need your release. Give yourself to me.”

She did not need to be told any more encouragement to let go. She felt his free hand grip onto her hips to push them down, since between her grinding and squirming, it must have seemed like she was going to escape the bath altogether. With a cry of pleasure, she felt herself shudder as one strong pulse of pleasure followed the next, a well and true release overcoming her body.

Halsin was patiently waiting for her to finish. One final ripple jolted her hips momentarily before she fully relaxed, almost sinking into the water in the process. It was only him submerging himself lower that helped feather her fall as she breathed heavily from the come down.

“Your body seems to respond well to my touch.” he grinned, reaching a hand to her hair so as to gently run his fingers through it. She was still panting heavily, her arms barely being able to find the sides of the tub to pull herself up. It exposed much of her lower back, where a lot of her scars were.

“You carry many marks for someone so fragile, little Baldurian.” he mused, clearly studying her back. Edith let out a huff in response, turning around to face him. The tub was not nearly big enough to hold both of them comfortably, which is why she settled herself on his thick thighs instead.

“And you carry quite the mouth for someone so ancient.” her hands found themselves wrapped around his neck as she closed the distance between them, ultimately sitting on his member with a swift glide. She hadn’t noticed it before, being preoccupied with his touch, but it was somehow larger and thicker than she had anticipated.

“I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the Grove.” Halsin let his gaze drop for a moment, looking out into the distance, somewhere far away. “I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you.”

Edith was taken aback at the sudden change of mood. She hadn’t quite anticipated his sincerity in this state, although still deeply appreciated his nurturing nature despite what had just occurred.

“You’re welcome.” was all she could muster.

She could hear him chuckle. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you are. But I do.”

Edith responded by leaning in to kiss him. She had barely remembered the first time they did it, the intensity of their coupling making her forget her manners and not even allow him more than a tongue battle before he was three fingers deep inside of her.

His lips were surprisingly soft. For someone whose voice, hands and general posture were as rough as stone, the velvet on his lips was a stark contrast. She hadn’t noticed it before, but took her time in exploring his mouth. Halsin was a good kisser, letting her take the lead while his hands stayed firmly on her waist.

Her hands grabbed at his hair, now party wet from the ears down, as she gently pulled. All she longed for was to get as close as possible. This exact fantasy she had mused about many nights before, and she was determined to remember every detail of this encounter now that the initial shock had worn off.

She noted the hardness between her legs, semi-floating and partly stuck in place by her own body. Her legs were being tickled by the hair on his thighs, and she noted his muscles squeezing with every other beat. His chest was firm, as if it was made from chizeled rock, and her nipples occasionally grazed over his in the heat of the kiss. His hands were firm, holding onto her sides while she ever so slightly ground her bottom half against his.

He was trying to gain control of something. She sensed it in the kiss, too. The way his tongue suddenly fought hers, teeth occasionally knocking hers, a bite or two coming down on her lower lip.

“Halsin, are you alright?”

His eyes snapped open. The familiar chestnut brown was replaced by a yellow glow, an almost empty stare into her own. His breathing was heavier, more ragged. He was trying to focus.

“I apologize, I am— I believe nature calls to me in more ways than I had anticipated.” he said, blinking a few times before she saw the gold from his eyes transform back into a dark brown. “I am but a bear, in way.”

Edith smiled. “All this time and you’re still battling your Wildshape?”

“I have lived… a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” he said. “And you, little flower, are not helping my affliction in the slightest.”

“Affliction?” Edith retorted, crossing her arms in return. “Am I the cause of your suffering, now?”

Halsin’s grip on her waist loosened. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause offense. I simply mean a different kind of suffering, one that—“

Edith interrupted his rambles with another kiss. She bit her lip once pulled away. “I know, old man.” she giggled in response.

That fierce grip took her by the hips this time, slamming her body down on top of his member. Halsin growled in response, and she could see those glowing eyes return. “I asked you not to make that sound.” he reminded her, his teeth finding their mark on the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry.” she gasped, half-joking as she felt his mouth start to suck at the very spot between her ear and throat. “I didn’t realize my laugh would poke the bear that easily.”

One of his hands left her hips and she soon felt it begin circling her clit instead. Edith’s hand quickly grabbed a hold of Halsin’s head, pushing him deeper into her skin at the unanticipated touch. “Fuck, Halsin.”

“This bear pokes many areas.” Halsin murmured in her skin, moving his head down until he reached her breasts. Taking one into his mouth, he suckled at the nipple until she hissed at the sudden pain of his sharp teeth. His lips moved away with a popping sound as he leaned his forehead against hers. “So I ask you again, to not invite it. Not unless you desire it in full, that is.”

Edith pondered for a moment. What would that feel like? Being taken by a beast, with no regard for any customs or strange looks? Would it feel strange or would it give her a pleasure she had never felt before? Would she be interested in exploring more of his Wildshape, maybe have a taste of different—

She must have been quiet for long, because Halsin’s praise broke the silence in the room. “My heart, my little flower,” he repeated the words over and over as his lips found their way on her breasts, her neck, her lips, anywhere that wasn’t occupied by his hands.

Desire overtook her. His words, his touch, his lips, all making her core heat up again. His member had to have been hurting by now, since she had barely paid any attention to it. If only she could find some control again and not behave like some wanton, mindless harlot.

“Halsin, I need you to fuck me.” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, my heart. As you wish.” he signed wistfully, staring down at her lips with hunger. It didn’t take long for his large hands to start digging into her soft flesh, positioning her so that she was placed along the length of his cock.

Edith reached down to touch it for the first time. The sound that Halsin let out was more rewarding than any loot at the end of a long day. It was as melodic as a harmony of birds, as sweet as the tarts in the inn — especially when his head rolled back in the process.

Her hand gently began dragging his foreskin down, making sure to keep a watchful eye of his face. She noted his sharp intake of breath and hissing when she touched the tip, which she made a mental note of to occasionally do. Her other hand had reached between her legs to keep herself occupied, since the sight alone was not enough to give her release.

Halsin seemed to notice the movements and raised his head to look at her. “I want to see you.” he demanded.

In a moment’s notice, he had her bum between his hands and raised to his feet. In another, she felt the wooden floor of the tavern as she was dropped on the boards with Halsin on top of her. Both of them were covered in water and leftover soap, panting as they looked each other in the eyes.

“Touch yourself, little flower.” he commanded, resting his body weight on one elbow while his free hand moved between his legs to grab a hold of his member.

Edith didn’t need to be told twice before her hand moved on her clit. With an index and middle finger, she began circling them around the sensitive skin while her gaze fixated on Halsin’s movements. He was doing his best to match her, although she could tell he was nearing his release.

She did not want his spend on the floorboards. She wanted it inside her.

“Halsin,” she whimpered needily. “Please fuck me.”

“I must rest, for I will not be able to contain myself.” he responded quickly, his hand massaging his cock and his eyes not leaving her own while he did so. “I will not leave your request unattended, I gave you my word.”

Edith could only moan in response. She could see the thick vein on the side of his cock, smell the musk coming from his body as her rhythmically stroked himself, almost taste the pre-come that was dripping ever so slightly from his head.

That was when she felt herself release again. Her hand paused its movement while an earth-shattering orgasm overtook her body. She bit her lip, close to bleeding, to stop herself from screaming out in pleasure. All the while, Halsin was fixated on her. His hand was no longer rubbing in a pattern, but almost forcefully pulling at his skin.

And then he stopped.

It took all the willpower he must have had to not drop his entire body on her. Rather, both elbows hit the side of her face as he almost howled in frustration. In a few short breaths, he turned his head so that it was facing hers. “I… I believe the urge has abandoned me, for now.”

Edith’s hand moved from her cunt to his lips, where she gently parted them so that he could taste her. “Not for long, I hope.” she replied, moving her other hand in his hair to stroke it.

Halsin sucked on her fingers like a needy babe. He moaned while doing so, letting his tongue go over each digit carefully. “As sweet as you smell, my nectar-filled lily,” he hummed.

Edith made a sound of disapproval in response. “I prefer lavender, actually.”

“I will roam the Feywild until the end of my days to bring you the last lavenders in this existence and beyond just to relive this very moment again.” he said once he finished working on her fingers, leaning his head down to give her a passionate kiss.

“Well, I hope that’s not it, Archdruid.” she stifled a giggle, knowing it was apparently what set him off in the first place.

As if on command, his lips moved down her body until he reached her lower belly. She couldn’t tell if it was his eagerness of the velvet in his voice, but she could’ve sworn she felt a gush between her legs. It was too simple for him to get her body going, as if it betrayed her entirely.

Edith gasped once she felt the first swipe of his tongue against her lips. She didn’t bother contemplating why he was so good at it, seeing as he had three centuries to practice. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, lapping hungrily like an animal starved, with growls leaving his throat as he did so.

“I once told you I’ve something of a sweet tooth and that honey was my favorite taste.” he said in between licks. “I was wrong. You are my favorite going forward.”

She whimpered and moaned, arching her hips towards him in need. One of his hands moved up until it reached her breasts, flicking one nipple back and forth. His tongue was circling her clit, then pressing against her lips, before adventuring across her entire cunt, so delicately, as if he hadn’t drunk in months.

Looking down, Edith saw his face. It was covered in her. It didn’t take much before she was sparkling with need. Her heels dug into his shoulders and she, once again, came with a loud, and very long moan. She felt her legs starting to shake, but he did not stop. He devoured her entirely, until her clit could no longer take the sensitivity. Her hand reached out to push on his forehead until he looked back at her, her juices dripping from his chin.

“I do believe I may just pass out if you continue this.” she uttered, just barely being able to catch her breath. He climbed atop her body, placing both palms against her head before giving her a soft kiss.

The unconscious grind against her folds was enough to tell her that he was ready to proceed. There were a few words he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear, but she was certain it was a prayer to Silvanus, one of protection or wisdom.

“May I?” he asked, smoothing the sweaty hair out of her face.

Edith bit her lip and nodded in response, spreading her legs in the process. Halsin settled his weight between her legs, and soon enough, grabbed a hold of his hard member. She gasped for air when she felt the tip of his cock press against her.

It had been quite a while since she was with anyone so… blessed. She would even wager he was the largest she had ever been with. It made her nervous, which he seemed to pick up on.

“My heart, if there is anything that will make you uncomfortable, you will let me know of it?” he whispered, kissing her deeply while sliding his head up and down her core. Edith nodded once again, opening her eyes to give him a silent approval.

She immediately let out a loud mewl when he pushed in, the initial stretch being so intense since she did not anticipate it. Her hands immediately grabbed a hold of his shoulders, squeezing down while he stood in place, being careful not to push too hard.

“Well, I can safely say I did not expect you to be big everywhere.” she joked while gasping, allowing herself to accommodate his size.

He watched for her reactions cautiously, making sure to only push further when she felt comfortable enough to say so. By the look on his face, she could tell that Halsin was holding back. The veins protruding from his arms, the shaking muscles on his thighs, the concentration on his face — all too careful.

The sensations overwhelmed her the more he moved. At some point, she wondered if he would ever stop coming. Thanks to his previous work however, she was still so incredibly slick that it was only mild resistance that he was met with. Her heels continued to dig into his back, partly from the pressure and the incoming pleasure.

She had often wondered what people meant when they craved the feeling of being full. Edith thought she finally understood. Each part of her seemed to be completed with his throbbing member, his girth stretching her to impossibility while her cunt attempted to swallow him entirely.

Halsin pressed hungry kisses on her lips, then her neck, before finally stoping at her breasts. “My heart, may I please move?” he sighed in desperation, hanging his head low while every bit of him seemed to vibrate.

“Please.”

He did not need to be told twice.

He began to slowly pull out, which made Edith wince. Then whimper. Then moan. Then groan. As slowly as he was inside, it felt as though he was twice as fast in pulling out. A feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her, and she could feel her own juices dripping down her thighs as he did so.

“Eager, are we?” Halsin cooed, stopping just his head was pressed against her entrance.

“Shut up and fuck me, bear.” Edith finally snapped, looking up at him with fire in her eyes.

“As the lady requires.”

His pace picked up then. Not enough to give her discomfort, but enough where he was no longer trying to be cautious in his movements. The loud groans that followed reverberated through his chest, and Edith could swear she could hear a bear growl in the midst of it.

She on the other hand, couldn’t explain how she was feeling. It was as if he was hitting new spots the more times he thrust inside, helping her feel fuller the more he did it. The gentleness of his words and touch was gone, now replaced by what seemed to be a rutting animal with only a need to release.

The feeling was mutual, in all honesty.

The Druid slid one arm underneath her head while another grabbed a hold of her thigh, raising it so that he had access to her deepest parts. His cock jabbed at her insides, and Edith swore she was seeing stars. No longer was she able to look at his face, since he was buried deep in her neck. The one thing she could focus on was the wooden ceiling of the Last Night Inn.

“Oakfathe— Father— Do not let— Preserve—“

She could feel him grow, feel more hair that was now turning into fur. For just a moment, she could see his hand turn bigger, his nails growing into that of a large animal - before he slammed his hand down onto the floor and almost breaking it.

He growled like a beast, letting out a sound that she had never heard before. “You are pooling for me, my heart.” his voice was a mixture of his own and a deep, low monstrous tone she had never heard before. “So delicate.”

Edith could only lay and observe him. Her clit was raw, her insides felt like they were being rearranged and she could only crave more. “Release inside me. I wish to be coated in your seed.”

Halsin slammed his fist on the same board again, this time cracking some parts of the wood in the process. The words seemed to spur him on and he picked up his pace, the hand under her head gripping her so tight that she felt it would pop if he pressed hard enough.

“Fuck, fuck, Halsin please,” she mewed, barely being in control of her own body as his cock assaulted her entrance over and over, the feeling turning from discomfort to pleasure to pain and comfort all in one. There was no way anyone wouldn’t hear of this, and at this point, Edith did not care.

Edith didn’t last much longer. She was crying out in pleasure, tightly coiled around the giant elf as her inner muscles clenched and released. It was the tightening of her core that lasted him two full thrusts before he released.

Trickling warmth covered her insides. It turned into a heat she did not anticipate. What surprised her though, was that it just kept coming. Halsin halted his movements entirely, and the only thing she could feel was the twitching of his cock as he kept coming inside. Thick ropes of cum, all coating her entirely. She swore she could feel some of it seep out of her entrance too.

Once he was fully spent, Halsin raised his head to look at her. The scar on his lip had some blood pooling, presumably from the bite he had self-inflicted during his rutting. There was sweat pooling down his face, his long hair stuck to the sides of it as he panted. She could feel his heartbeat on top of hers.

“What an… interesting turn of events.” Edith said breathlessly, reaching up to cup his face with her hands.

Halsin turned his head to give her palm a kiss before groaning in what seemed to be agony. Edith furrowed her brows in confusion as she followed his gaze which ended next to her head.

Another floorboard had cracked.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin x original female character #fanfiction #halsin deserves a lot more #my fics #the bear

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