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draconic-desire · 20 days

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DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #3 — The Interrogation

Bright light floods your vision, eliciting a hiss as you repeatedly blink to regain your senses. Shielding your eyes is useless; your hands are pinned tightly behind your back, your wrists already starting to throb.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself tied to a chair, arms and legs bound to the wooden frame with thick rope. A few tugs and attempted kicks lead you to quickly relent that your bindings aren’t budging.

Shaking the fuzz from inside your head, you examine your surroundings.

While most of the room is cloaked in shadows, your chair is illuminated with a bright spotlight, highlighting the laminated flooring beneath your feet. Directly in front of you stands a long bar, perched upon a podium to elevate any individual behind it. The room is completely bare otherwise, giving a cold, clinical appearance.

How in the Aeons’ names did I end up here?

“Ah, you’ve finally regained your senses.”

You jolt, the voice to your left sending gooseflesh across your skin. It’s deep, full of condescension and authority, and almost certainly male. Sweat trickles down your neck.

Confirming your suspicions, a tall, muscular figure steps from the shadows beside you.

Your already rapid heartbeat skyrockets. Despite his scowl, the man is undeniably handsome—golden eyes to complement his dark purple locks, full lips and strong, toned arms on display thanks to his single-sleeved attire. You’d typically be blushing as he grips the back of your chair with one arm and leans down close to your face, if it weren’t for the unwelcome and compromising position you’re in.

You struggle to swallow. “I—um, sir, there must be some mistake—”

“You are (Y/n) (L/n), are you not?” he interrupts. His breath, minty with a touch of sage, tickles your nose as he closes the gap between the two of you even further.

“Um, yes…?” You cringe at how pathetic you sound, but really, how else are you supposed to react when a stranger has you apparently kidnapped and tied up?

The man rolls his eyes. “Come now, at least admit to your own name. If you can’t do that, how can you own up to the consequences of your actions?”

Head spinning, you ignore the fact that you think he just implied you’re stupid to instead focus on his latter comment. Despite your situation, you can’t help the spark of indignation that rages in your chest. Maybe that’s what makes you stupid: your sharp tongue. “Excuse me? Consequences? Are you lecturing me? And how do you know my name? Who even are you? Why am I here?”

Tilting his head slightly, the man lets a subtle smile pull at his lips. “Finally asking the right questions.” He stands and paces behind the podium in front of you, appearing like a judge presiding over court.

“My name is Dr. Veritas Ratio, and you, (Y/n), are my wife.”

You jerk back like you’ve been hit. That is certainly not what you were expecting.

A startled laugh escapes you. “I don’t have a husband.”

Ratio hums in response, jotting down something in a book he pulled from his robes. “And what is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”

“Woah, woah, are we just going to glance over the fact that you’re claiming we’re married?!” you shout, panic creeping into your bones. So not only have you been kidnapped, but the individual holding you is also insane. Great. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

A deep sigh fills the room, followed by the sound of lead scratching against paper. A low mumble that you can barely discern contemplates, “Perhaps the dosage was too high this time? Such an amnestic response is unusual… Could a physical stimulus be required to invigorate her hippocampus?”

The damn man is treating you like a science project!

Before you can retort, he pulls out two small vials of liquid, both no larger than your thumb. He sets them down on the table before you and gestures to each individually.

“You now have a choice. Drinking this,” he motions to the right, at the vial possessing a golden liquid flecked with sparkling, iridescent particles, “will restore your memories. You’ll remember me, and everything that led up to this point.”

Remember him? Did he drug you into forgetting, and this was the next step in his experiment? If what he claims is true, why would a husband ever do that to his wife? Your head throbs.

“Or, choose this vial,” he points to the lefthand bottle, a concoction so dark it mirrors the midnight sky, “and you will forget everything and get to walk out that door shortly after.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Surely there was some sort of catch. His language was too vague to be of any comfort at all.

“Why are you making me choose at all? This all seems like one really fucked up joke.” You tug at your bindings again, letting out a growl of frustration.

Ratio pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’re lucky I’ve grown so fond of you that I can overlook your insipid questioning. You will choose.”

“And what happens when I do? Surely it’s not as simple as remembering you or being freed. You don’t seem like a man who would go to all the trouble. What’s in this for you other than forcing me to be your little lab rat?”

After a pregnant pause, Ratio clucks his tongue. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I give away the answers. You’re clearly not thinking straight.” He places his notebook down and picks up a vial in each hand, holding the small things between his thumb and index fingers.

“The gold bottle here will completely restore your memories. You want to know the whole truth about us? How you ended up in this room? Why it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation?” Your breath hitches; what did he mean not the first time. “Then drink this one. It will probably give you a leg up, since you’ll recall all those past times you tried oh so fruitlessly to escape me.”

He then raises his opposite hand as your horror builds. “Alternatively, this vial will completely wipe your memories, but only of me. You’ll recall everything about yourself, your life, hobbies, et cetera…but in doing so, you will be helpless the next time we meet. You will have no defenses, and one way or another, you will be my wife again. That much has already been proven true.”

The floor falls from underneath you. Aeons, how many times have you taken that midnight liquid? How many times have you been in this very scenario, drugged into forgetting him, only for him to court you time and time again. Clearly you must reject him each time, but he’s so lost in his obsession that he has to reset you each time you try to flee. The thought makes you immediately nauseous.

Despite your dry throat, you manage to croak out, “And if I refuse to take either?”

Ratio’s expression darkens, his chin tipped up haughtily. “Don’t test my patience, (Y/n).”

You gulp, eyes flicking back and forth between this two hands. You must choose.

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astarionenjoyer69420 · 6 months

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reader x astarion - "i want an heir"

hi! this is my first fanfiction ever!

summary: ascended astarion has some...desires that only you can provide for him.

warnings: dubcon/noncon, smut, breeding kink, cnc, bondage

(not my gif)

You were his. Forever. Aetherna amantis, he had claimed. Lovers forever. It almost sounded too good to be true.

You should have known it was too good to be true.

Being one of Astarion’s spawn, albeit the prized one, was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, you had a certain degree of protection. And yes, you got to live in this fancy mansion, existing by your lover’s side both day and night. And the bite marks he had gifted you on your neck; well, they were just more reminders that you were his, entirely his, and no one could take you away from him.

But Astarion had been ascended for a few months now. You had gone from being his only one, his only prized spawn, as he had promised you, to brothers and sisters galore, traipsing up and down the halls of the palace he promised was solely for the two of you. As much as you wanted to complain, you knew your now master would never hear of it. And he would get in one of his moods.

And when Astarion got in one of his moods…you knew trouble was headed your way.

And that’s how you came to be completely helpless, arms bound to posts of his velvety bed, stark naked with the nip of chilled air the only thing covering your body, rag shoved in your mouth so you couldn’t even talk to yourself, couldn’t even make any noises besides mere vocalizations.

At least you still got some individual attention compared to the other spawn.

He had tied you up…crap, how long could it have been? Hours ago now, most certainly, or maybe that was just you getting in your own head. “Be good, darling,” he had purred, tugging your restraints so hard they dug into your flesh, after he had physically picked you up and forced you onto his bed. “I’ll be back when I’m done for the day.” But he had not said exactly when, and there were no clocks in this ancient room. So you had sat, tears welling in your eyes at the utter humiliation of it all, for what felt like an eternity. And the bastard knew you couldn’t fall asleep, either.

But there was something else. The longer you waited, the longer the pool of warmth grew between your legs, aching with anticipation for what would come next. Your thighs smushed together, desperate to indulge in any sort of stimulation, imagination running wild as to what your master had planned for you. He had never…done this before. Forced you to submit to him. You were always a good girl. But defying, you realized, had its advantages. And with every bit you wiggled and the leather dug into your wrists, the more slick you felt fountaining from between your legs.

Low noises from the hall…footsteps. Quick, light footsteps. Your heart thrummed at a breakneck pace in your chest. You would know that stride anywhere. He was back. Your cheeks grew hot, remembering how completely exposed you were, stripped of any choice in him seeing you entirely nude. And you were starting to begrudge that fire in your belly that picked up when you thought about your forced indecency.

Your lover’s footsteps grew nearer, then stopped as you discerned the sounds of a key turning in a lock. You were practically vibrating with adrenaline when he stepped in the room, swiftly sealing his door behind him, red eyes shifting to your helpless form on his bed.

You couldn’t help it; in the face of such perfection you felt almost dizzy. Power radiated through him, jagged and dark and untamable. Under his cloak, bulging muscles tugged at the fabric, and his white curls boasted perfection, as always. You were so overcome with lust you could barely speak…even if you hadn’t had a gag in your mouth. He was always the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on, but the commanding swagger he exuded after he became master to you and the other spawn was, admittedly, a great look for him.

He approached your body, wisps of a smirk tugging at his perfectly plump lips. “Darling. Tsk. Look at you, still here where I put you all those hours ago.” His smirk widened, becoming overt. “Not that you had much of a choice…I mean, look at you.”

“Mmph,” you tried to respond, your inaudible reply sending a flood of humiliation to your head, and you became aware of a soft thrumming in your nether regions. God, you had no idea you were so into this, being completely and utterly helpless and so degraded, but you supposed you were just along for the ride at this point.

A pause. Thirsty eyes gazed into yours, never breaking eye contact as his overclothes were shed, and you tried (in vain) not to ogle his perfectly defined body; he had to be handcrafted by the gods themselves. You were grateful for even this tiny moment to soak him in; he was so busy nowadays.

“Darling, I have a proposition for you.”

Your eyes darted to his face, which had abruptly transformed into something more serious, more pensive. You really hoped this proposition had something to do with his mouth and a few choice body parts, although it had been mostly you servicing him like that since the ascension. “Mmph?”

He stepped closer to the bed, and he was so close you could almost (metaphorically) taste him; every inch of his flesh was perfect, and you longed to be able to touch him, to reach out and trail your fingers down his abs, caressing his marble figure, lowering your hand down to his happy trail and lower…lower…

He inhaled sharply, taking time to fully release his breath from his lungs. “Darling, it can’t be any surprise you’re my favorite of the bunch of these…creatures. You know, we genuinely had something before…all of this. It was cute, yes, cute, the way you stared at me, the flawed…thing I was before I became unstoppable. Unkillable.”

Okay, not off to the best start by calling you and the rest of the spawn creatures, but you would take it for now. Especially because he was really hot. Like, really hot. And missing him all day helped matters as well.

“And so, now to my point. I have been…thinking recently. About the future. About expanding my network, so to speak.” His brow crinkled, and he began to pace, back and forth by the foot of the bed. “And how, since you’re usually so terribly obedient, how I could honor you in some way, perhaps by making you a part of that future.”

He stopped pacing, averting his gaze to rest on you, his eye contact almost too intense to bear. “After today, I realized you couldn’t be trusted anymore to serve me. Struggling, resisting your master simply will not do. Which is why this is going to happen now, regardless of any of those pesky opinions you might have about it.” He spat the word opinions out like it was poison on his tongue, and unfortunately the growl in his voice made the heartbeat between your thighs thrum more intensely.

“I want an heir. And you’re going to carry him for me.”

Silence. Your pulse skyrocketed, feeling like a hummingbird in your chest, but your brain had not been able to process his words yet. An heir? As in, like, a child? A…pregnancy? No, no, that wasn’t possible between two vampires. Unless… “Mmph…”

“I know, darling, aren’t you just so thrilled to hear the news,” he cooed, reaching out, cool fingers cascading slowly down your cheek, every nerve in your body alight at the simple touch. “It can happen, you know. Between vampire and spawn.”

And he was by your ear, you flashing back to nights in camp right before he would bite down on you, excitement zinging through your body like a rogue boomerang. His whisper surrounded you, tickled your neck, had you crying between your thighs. “And you would look just so pretty all swollen with my child. Body completely belonging to me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Logistically, you were panicking. Even if what he was saying was true, who knew if it was, that he could…get you pregnant in the first place, you had never been the maternal type. Your life as an adventurer had prohibited any thought of parenthood to ever cross your mind, and you figured you had officially forfeited that path once your heart had shuddered to a stop after your master’s ascension.

Logistically, sure, yes, bad idea. But an ever-growing part of you; one bellowing as it invaded you, sent waves of bliss through your body, moistened your inner thighs; wanted this. Wanted it bad, wanted it more than anything. You would be his, all his, a display of submission so great it physically took hold of you. None of the other spawn would have that privilege. And moment by moment, this was all looking more and more alluring. “Mmph…”

You felt yourself flush again as the vampire hopped into the bed, positioning himself so he was completely on top of you, using his two arms to balance himself, making you look at him directly in his glowing, almost ravenous eyes. Up close, it was even more unfair that he oozed perfection; unmarked skin, smelling of bergamot, rosemary and fine brandy, so tantalizing it made your head spin. Though you wanted to resist, wanted to protest, wanted to try and kick him off of you, Astarion was using the full extent of his vampiric charisma on you.

You couldn’t do anything but stare as he lowered himself to your neck, brushing gently against your collarbone at first, an involuntary moan escaping from your lips, only slightly resenting yourself for how much you would inevitably show you enjoyed this a little too much. With a low chuckle, he nipped lightly at your neck, not yet drawing blood, pain intermingling with pleasure as you knew he was marking you. He loved to do this, especially when he was in one of his moods, teasing you and working you up until you were begging him to give you pain, give you anything.

“Mmm…” you murmured as his teeth scraped your flesh, puncturing you, penetrating you, all over, as if your entire neck was his to maim. Your neck was throbbing, no doubt blooming now with marks all over, and you loved every second of it. You wanted the other spawn to know you were his, that you had the honor of being marked by him.

Your hips bucked into him, once again desperate for any kind of touch, even just one lone finger. Your wrists yanked at the restraints as your body made itself known, shame of being completely nude gone, just wanting some release.

Astarion pulled back, breathing hard, something gleaming in his eye. It wasn’t hunger, but it was close. Hunger for…something else. Something more than blood could give him. “Wear your hair back tomorrow,” he growled. “I want everyone to see what you let me do to you.”

You nodded meekly, pulsing between your legs nearly painful, being fairly certain you had soaked the sheets. Although you knew you might be punished for it, you continued to try and grind on your master, though the angle wasn’t quite right. And he knew damn well what he was preventing you from doing, splayed completely on top of you, deadening any hope of movement in your legs for the time being.

Astarion grinned. “I love it when you’re so good for me. See, it isn’t that hard, now is it?”

You shook your head, widening his smile, being only able to watch as he grabbed your breast, massaging it slowly with his hands, earning another choked moan from you as he pinched your nipple hard between two of his slender fingers. “Maybe if you were a bit more obedient this morning, you would get something of a choice in this matter.”

His other hand made its way to your other breast, squeezing tightly. “But now…cute little sluts that like getting tied up need to get taught a lesson.” Your body was on fire, the shape of his large erection now prominently pressing on your thighs, and you dripped with want- no, need. “You want to get knocked up by me so badly, hm? You fought against me so hard this morning, but you want me to own your body for nine whole months more than anything, is that right?”

Any logical thoughts you harbored had sailed away long ago. “Mmm…” you replied in affirmation, drunk on him, his scent, his scarlet eyes, the low intonation of his voice, the way you were helpless, you had no defense, he could fuck a baby inside of you with no resistance.

“Good girl,” he replied, and to your humiliation his hand trailed downward, dancing on your skin ever so slightly, goosebumps raising on your arm as he made his way between your legs, nearly casually dragging his index finger up the side of your folds. You gasped, the stimulation almost too much to bear, the bed quaking as your whole body seized with pleasure.

“Tsk, tsk,” he intoned, drawing his hand away as quickly as it had come, your clit thrumming with disappointment. “You have such a pretty little pussy, positively, delightfully soaked by me.” A low growl. A pause. Then: “Too bad I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.”

Before you could think, before you could react, his hand was back on you, aggrandizing slow circles being drawn around your clit, your heartbeat so loud you could barely hear his whispering. “Have to prepare you to be bred, darling. Have to give you so much pleasure your body knows me, and only me.”

Your legs shook, warm, radiant pulses emanating through every limb in your body, every neuron welcoming his touch, his filthy words, your complete and utter submission. You were already close- fuck, how were you already close? You pressed your pussy against him, trying to ride this high, to feel his beautiful hands while they were there. You began to tremble.

As if he could read your mind, his pace quickened, stroking you with renewed firmness, pressing down on your clit directly with his thumb, making you see stars. “Greedy,” he chided, his reproach only making you want him more, climbing higher and higher toward your release, flames licking at your core. “How does it feel to be defenseless? Totally at my mercy? Subject to the whims of your master, totally and utterly mine?”

You practically yelled as your body prepared you to cum, muscles tensing, his velvet voice so close to tipping you over the edge.

Then, he stopped.

Stopped point-blank, withdrawing his hands, sitting up, your body humming with broken promises, with betrayal. With wide eyes, you stared at his godly figure, silently beseeching him for an answer, for him to keep touching you, for…anything. You were a sopping mess, a puddle, your clitoris swollen with need. Tears sprung forward, much to your embarrassment. This wasn’t fair. You needed him.

You had apparently become upset presumptuously, because your lover had taken you to the edge and then ceased because he wanted to give you the proper treatment. This became obvious as the clothes on the lower half of his body were shed, you unabashedly reveling in the show, a huge, thick pale cock springing forward from his pants as they crumpled to the floor.

You always wondered how you could take him. Conservatively, he must have been eight inches, and you could barely wrap a hand around his girth. It had taken your breath away the first time you had seen it, one of your sweeter sexual meetups, a drunken encounter after a party, what seemed like ages ago now. It was sweet, him taking the lead, servicing you over and over again being the main event, him whimpering with carnal lust every time you so much as brushed against his length. But sweetness had been gone from your bedroom for a while now. Not that you minded so much. This…was also nice. Your mouth began to salivate staring at his perfect cock, wanting in equal measure for him to be inside of you and to taste him.

Unfortunately, your master knew you too well, unabashed smarminess plain as day across his face after catching you ogling. He threw his head back to laugh; something you had never heard addressed to you before a few months ago, sadistic and mocking. “My little pet is so terribly desperate for this cock, isn’t that right, darling?” As you moaned your confirmation, he pushed your legs apart, the chill of the castle room whispering on your wet pussy, him smiling as he did so. In fact, he almost looked positively giddy to have you here, with no one to aid you. “Be a good little fuckdoll and take it, hm?”

You weren’t thinking about logistics anymore. You weren’t thinking about whether what he wanted was possible in the first place. All you knew, all you could register, all you could feel, was your body being folded in half, your legs nearly touching your shoulders, and your lover’s strikingly beautiful form above you, like a siren, like original sin himself.

“Let’s cut the pretense, darling,” he purred, and you could feel him line himself up with your core, your body reading yourself for him, the tip of his cock dancing among your slick folds, your body writhing and spasming with need. “I’m not going to be gentle, nor must I be to give you my most precious gift, my son. You’re going to be stuffed full of my seed by the time I’m done with you, and you’re going to absolutely adore it. Understood?”

Astarion thrust forward, snapping into you, giving you no time to respond, no time to adjust to his length. A cry escaped your lips, muffled by your makeshift gag; it felt like you were being torn in two, your pussy burning with the stretch of his width inside you, hitting your cervix, the pinch making your recoil. He began ravaging you, hips snapping back and forth, tears now streaming down your face and onto the silk pillows. He had never fucked you this brutally before, pain quickly ebbing into ecstasy as you clenched around his girth, so perfectly full of him.

Your master groaned, low and deep in his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His tough facade was crumbling, desire unmasked at last. “Always…always so fucking tight for me,” he panted, grabbing your chin, ruby eyes captivating yours as he pummeled you. He was a sight to behold, mouth ajar as he drew in breath, fangs glistening in the candlelight, smoldering gaze on your face. “G-gods above.”

The sound of your lover pumping inside of you permeated the stone room as if it were a heartbeat. Your mind spun, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his cock impaling you, whimpering as he shifted his angle oh-so-slightly and hit your most sensitive spot. He knew how bad you wanted to be put in your place, the way his length dripped with your moisture revealing it, no perception checks necessary.

“That’s right, darling,” Astarion cooed, recovered from the dominant edge slipping during his entrance, hips bucking faster within you, hammering your sweet spot. Dark spots danced at the edges of your vision. “Tell me, who’s my good little slut?”

Moaning through your gag, your walls eagerly clenched hard around him, feeling as if you were floating through the small pinches in your cervix as he thrust. It was you, you knew it was you, he knew it was you. You were his, mind, body, and soul. You couldn’t put any coherent thoughts together, and all you knew is that you wanted him as deep as he could go.

He took you like that for a while, until you could feel your release approaching once again, the rhythm of Astarion inside of you so intense now you could barely breathe. Your fingernails dug into his back, earning a sharp hiss from the vampire, who in turn finally tore his eyes away from you to sink his fangs into your neck. Gasping at the sudden ache blossoming through your throat, you lost control. A wave of bliss tumbled through your body as you screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a trail of fire. Astarion fucked you through it, every thrust to your overstimulated core making you see stars as you felt your blood slip further through his porcelain lips.

As your climax receded, your vampire drew back, mouth and chin smeared bright crimson. You recalled the first time you had let him feed on you, the night you found out he was a vampire; he was careful, and he knew not to take so much. His face was softer then, a blush of gratitude touching his dialogue. Memories of that first night seemed so far now as you examined the beast before you, all sharp angles and lust.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” he sighed. “Thank god you’re so enamored with me. Conceiving is so much easier this way.”

And he began again, thrusting even harder than before.

You could barely take it, the sensation of his cock burrowing even deeper inside of you, and you became conscious of embarrassingly inhuman noises you were eking out. Astarion gripped your chin, forcing eye contact as he continued to ravage you, minute beads of sweat trailing down his ivory face. Fingers dug into your face as you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, their shade of scarlet deeper than ever, unable to think about anything but his steely regard, futilely attempting to choke out his name. Smirking at your failed attempt, of course he was. He always made you feel so good, and unfortunately, he knew it.

“Fantastic,” he cooed. “That’s my good fucking girl. You like this, don’t you? To be nothing but a toy for me. To be completely and totally vulnerable…” He hammered into you harder, your entire body nothing but a vessel centered around him, your sex practically chanting his name. His words sent pure shock to your core; resistance was futile and the new gush of wetness between your thighs proved it. Liking it was certainly inside the realm of possibility. Adoring it was far more likely.

The bed groaned beneath your entangled forms, and your lover leaned in toward you, teeth grazing the top of your ear. “I’m close, my sweet.” And you felt yourself clenching around him much more, body thrumming with the promise of your shared release.

With a grunt, Astarion dropped his face to ensnare you in a kiss as his warmth flooded into you, thrusting sporadically as he filled you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed as he forced himself deeper into you, taking care that none of his seed leaked from your eager hole. “Good girl, take all of it.”

He grabbed your thighs, forcing your bottom half upwards, cum dripping further down into you, the angle change hammering you right in your most sensitive spot. You cried out as your release hit you like a freight train, muscles melting and becoming liquid, Astarion’s slow deep thrusts prolonging your nirvana. Ripples of adrenaline rushed through you as you felt his release pool in you, knowing undoubtedly that his rough breeding had worked. He decreased his speed until he was at a stop, your legs feeling awfully similar to jelly, as you basked in a combination of afterglow and shock at what had transpired.

You stayed interlocked and still for a few minutes, your master’s breathing even and heavy, explaining in a whisper that he had to make sure the process was successful. You felt each beat of your heart in your chest, and if you had the privilege of language at the moment, you would have reassured him that your body was most certainly going to house his child. Eventually, he unsheathed himself, letting your hips back down to the four-poster bed, and you watched his statuesque form stand and begin to clean himself. After he had finished, with a smirk he made his way over to you and gently wiped your thighs of his release.

You could do nothing but watch as he began to dress himself back into the armor he had previously worn, silently wondering if you were going to be let free.

Astarion didn’t even turn around as he spoke to you. “My pet, I think it only fair you remain in this bedroom for as long as it takes to successfully knock you up. I want you nice and helpless against me until I know for certain you’re too dependent on me to go anywhere. Shall we repeat this process…I don’t know…twice a day?”

Twice a day. For as long as it took until he could tell you were pregnant. Verbalizations strained against your gag, but you were completely ignored as Astarion walked out of the room, sealing and locking the door shut behind him.

Pregnancy symptoms could take a hell of a long time to show up. And maybe, even when they did…you could conceal them for a while.

If it meant being used like this again, you would have done nearly anything.

#astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion my beloved #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion smut

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shadowdaddies · 5 months

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I'm going to self project here, but can I request Fenrys beating the living sh*t out of reader's abuser? I need this... as self-care ngl

I'm not sure why I spent so long building the backstory for Reader but it was fun and I kind of want to write a series based on it now? Anywho, Fenrys does a little more than beat up the abuser👀 I got carried away oops

Hope Reborn

Fenrys Moonbeam x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, slavery, just very canon-typical trauma beware

During Adarlan’s conquest of Terrasen, you tried to escape to the Southern Continent with the man you had been in a relationship with, following his lead on a path he had charted for the both of you through the Perranth Mountains to head south.

It was outside the city of Perranth when Adarlan soldiers stopped you. Knowing that your attire immediately gave you away as Orynthian, you took your partner’s hand, ready to flee for your lives back into the forest. The pain of losing your home, your family, your culture, hadn’t broken you yet. But as the man you loved held out his hand for a couple coins, yanking you toward the soldiers’ waiting arms, you shattered.

The one person you had left in this world, who you believed that you could trust, had sold you for a couple pieces of silver. He walked into the forest, never turning back. Never seeing the beatings, the unspeakable things the Adarlan soldiers did to you on the way to Endovier.

You became a slave in the salt mines, learning the language of Eyllwe from those imprisoned alongside you. One girl, a few years younger than you, was also from Terrasen. The two of you would talk and reminisce on the fields of pine trees and memories of Orynth. Her name was Celaena, and when she was taken from Endovier to the king’s castle, you weren’t sure that you could handle losing one more person in your life.

Months passed as you labored away in the salt mines, reflecting on the family and friends you’d lost, and the man who betrayed you. As you dared a look around the dirt yard, eyeing the guards as they taunted the other slaves with their whips, you became resolute in your plan for vengeance - against your former lover, against the guards, against the king.

So when you woke up that fateful morning to see the riots had begun, you grabbed your pick axe, cutting down any guard who dared to stand in your way as you ran for your freedom. You were one of the few who survived the riot, but at this point you were a shell of the human being you once were. You didn’t know light or love. You only knew survival.

Learning your lesson from before, you stole drying clothing from a nearby village and began your journey southeast towards Rifthold. You found a life in the city as a barmaid in a tavern while you slept in an abandoned apartment, biding your time while you created a plan.

The perfect opportunity fell into your lap one rainy night, that you had no idea would change your life forever. You were leaving the tavern after a long shift, your cloak tugged over your head moreso to avoid any men approaching you than to keep your hair dry.

A woman running down the street caught your eye, and you stopped to watch as she leapt into the arms of a man. Her own hood fell down, revealing reddish-blonde hair as the couple embraced for a long moment. You were about to turn away, eager to escape the rain when the woman turned, locking eyes with you.

A choked sob escaped you as you recognized her. Tanner, healthier, happy - but you would know those distinct golden-turquoise eyes anywhere. She must have recognized you too, for Celaena bolted towards you, pulling you in as you were hugged for the first time in years.

“How are you here?” she said through tears, glancing over her shoulder as three other people slowly approached behind her.

You smiled, sniffling as you wiped happy tears from your eyes. “I got out during the uprising. How are you here?”

Celaena looked towards her friends, giving a slight nod to the two males in particular before turning back to you. “Will you come with me?”

That small piece of hope inside of you sparked at her offer, and you found yourself nodding, letting yourself be led into yet another unknown. You followed the group up to an apartment, where Celaena sat you down and explained who she really was.

Your world tilted on its axis as you were filled with more hope than you had since the conquest of Terrasen, immediately swearing allegiance to Aelin, your queen. You traveled with her group to Skull’s Bay, finding your purpose in preparing Terrasen for war against Erawan, and to reestablish your home.

It was in Skull’s Bay that you met Fenrys, the most beautiful male you had ever seen. You formed an instant connection, drawn to his jovial nature. He was incessantly kind and positive despite everything that he had been through, the perfect balance and glimmer of light that you had been searching for your entire life.

And yet, all good things seem to be ripped from you. Fenrys and Aelin were taken from you, leaving a hole in your heart that could never be filled, never be rebuilt. If not for Rowan’s determination, his drive to find his wife, you might have been broken completely. But your new family gave you the strength you needed to find Aelin and Fenrys.

As a human, you didn’t know if you were capable of having a bond, but what you felt for Fenrys - how you swore you could feel his pain, how he missed you while he was with Maeve - was as close to a bond as you could imagine. It wasn’t a spark of hope that flared in your chest when you reunited with Fenrys when he escaped Maeve, it was an eternal flame. You knew that you would marry this male one day.

When that day came, and you stood beside your husband as part of Queen Aelin’s Court in front of all of Terrasen, the last person you expected to see what the man you once loved. The man who sold you into slavery, standing to the side with the rest of the courtiers.

Rage filled you, at him, at Adarlan, at yourself, at the world for allowing a man so vile to not only survive, but seemingly thrive. You hadn’t realized how much your grip on Fenrys’s hand had tightened until your husband winced - but instead of pulling away, he lifted your hand to his lips.

Pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, Fenrys’s onyx eyes found yours, drawing you from those dark thoughts. “What is it, my love?” he asked, voice so soft you could melt into it.

You swallowed thickly, forbidding yourself from giving that spineless excuse for a man another look. Taking a deep breath, you pulled Fenrys in for a hug as you murmured your confession into his shirt. “You know my first love? Who sold me to Endovier? He’s here. In the blue jacket.”

Fenrys stiffened under your touch, fae instincts taking over as a low growl formed in his throat. You swore you felt the temperature in the room rise as your husband honed in on the man like a predator.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered, voice lethally quiet as he held you close.

Looking up, you couldn’t help the genuine smile that brightened your features as you savored the feeling of this male, who you knew would do anything for you. This male who gave you the love you never dreamed was possible.

“I don’t want you to do anything. I have everything I need, and more,” you whispered back, standing up on your toes to pull him in for a kiss.

Fenrys gave you a wolfish grin, seemingly satisfied with your answer before he dared to look back into the crowd. His gaze flicked to where Rowan stood on the dais, the two in silent communication, before Rowan declared court dismissed.

“I have some matters to take care of with Rowan, and I will be back shortly. Alright, my love?” Fenrys questioned, a kiss to your temple before you nodded, heading back to the sitting room where Aelin and Lysandra shortly joined you.

Time passed as you relaxed, enjoying chocolates and discussing books with your friends when Rowan stumbled through the door, Fenrys behind him. The two males had blood staining their shirts, busted knuckles quickly healing as they noticed your concerned expression.

Clearing his throat, Fenrys brushed his blonde hair from his face as he strode towards you in an attempt at acting nonchalant.

“Fen, love, what did you do?” you drawled, arching an assessing brow as you sipped your tea.

“Nothing. Rowan and I had some matters to attend to, as I said,” he shrugged, reaching for a chocolate from the table in front of you. Understanding dawned, and you gasped.

Reaching for his bloodied hand, you pulled it towards you as you examined the wounds. “Fenrys Moonbeam! You did not hit that man, did you? I don’t need to worry about him anymore, love.”

Rowan snorted from where he lounged on the arm of Aelin’s chair. “He didn’t just hit him,” Rowan paused, green eyes focusing on you with sincerity. “And trust me, you will not have to worry about him ever again.”

Alarmed, you glanced to Lysandra in disbelief, your friend shaking her head as she lifted a chocolate to her mouth. “I wouldn’t ask them to elaborate if I were you,” she muttered, popping the dessert with a satisfied moan.

Rubbing your temples, you stood, wrapping Fenrys’s arms around you as you buried your head against his warm, toned chest.

“Are you mad?” he whispered.

With a deep sigh, you looked up, brushing back his blonde curls behind his ear as you admired his glittering black eyes, all anxiety leaving your body. “Officially speaking, I don’t condone your actions. But I love you, and whatever I did in some past life to deserve someone like you...” You trailed off, drawing the back of your hand down his cheek. “Thank you for giving me hope, Fenrys Moonbeam.”

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

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The Arcana HCs: How the M6 like to fluster you

The very late sequel to this post:

How MC likes to fluster the M6

Julian

When I tell you this man is SHAMELESS

Does he fluster easily? Yes. However, being horny on main is his default mode. His own flusteredness will not stop him

Grand, romantic displays of affection. He will write an entire play to perform in the community theatre just to proclaim his love for you from on stage

Any chance to sing a romantic duet, he's pulling you with him. It doesn't matter if it's in public. It doesn't matter if you have the singing voice of an angry hippopotamus

Oh no, he bit his tongue while the two of you were snacking at the food stalls in the market place! Kiss it better?

Oh no, he's getting heartburn from all the street food! Here, help him open his shirt so you can check his chest

Physically incapable of passing a flower seller without buying you one

And then presenting it with the most dramatic flourish and flowery speech he can come up with in the moment

So many suggestive nicknames. So. Many.

Asra

What a tease this sly magician is

They've memorized every single one of your weaknesses, and they love to exploit them

Sensitive scalp? He'll chat with a friend, arm around your shoulders as his trimmed nails drag their way up the back of your head

Holding your hand becomes feather light touches of their fingertips swirling around your palm and inner wrist

He's leaning in to whisper something in your ear, and oh! There's a gentle kiss being pressed to the pulse point below it just before he turns back to what he was doing

Locking their ankles with yours under the table when you're seated across from them

Sneaky compliments. The kind that you wouldn't pick up on if you didn't know that teasing, lazily cat-like face he makes so well

Speaking of facial expressions - they will fix you with the most dreamy, adoring, seductive face for minutes on end. In any and every situation

Regularly uses your bond to let you know exactly how you make him feel

Nadia

Oh, she loooves to see you blush

Very forward in her advances. If she sees you talking to someone, she'll take your hand and press kisses to each fingertip until your breath hitches

Which will make you pause in conversation, which is her opening to steal your attention

Loves feeding you. At dinner parties, offering you a forkful from her plate or sip from her glass and savoring the indirect kiss

In more casual settings, holding pieces of fruit and cheese against your lips so she can brush her knuckles across them

Constantly helping you fix your clothes, jewelry, or hair as an excuse to touch you

Heaping you with detailed and genuine praise in every setting. She can go on and on about your strengths for hours

Will happily trace your facial features with her fingertips while you talk to her

"What am I doing? Oh nothing, just admiring the realms' most exquisite work of living art."

She adores you. And as previously stated, she adores your blush

Muriel

It took a while for him to think of trying, to be honest. Usually you're the one flustering him by simply showing affection

That is, until he caught sight of you blushing as he changed his shirt one evening and thought it wasn't a bad look on you

He didn't like his body before, but if showing a little skin and muscle is all it takes to make you flush, it's an easy sacrifice

Would NEVER attempt any of the following tactics in public, for the woods only:

Removing his shirt for dirty tasks, such as wood chopping, boulder lifting, and (on one occasion) uprooting a small infected tree stump with his bare hands

Carrying you like you weigh nothing whenever you say you're tired

If you're cold, very shyly pulling you into his lap and wrapping you up in his arms and cloak

You liked that flower? He's planting a row of them outside the window

He loves you so much, he will even hold your hand in public if it makes you smile

Portia

Most of the time she flusters you it's not on purpose. She won't realize until you're already blushing and fumbling

Which, let's be clear, she does appreciate

Portia is a force of nature who puts everything she is into loving and supporting and adoring her partner

She will defend your honor and proclaim all your accomplishments with 0 hesitation

She also loves to read. She likes reading mysteries, but you'll also find that she likes reading spicier stories as well

She likes bringing said stories home and reading them out loud to you

She likes using them as inspiration for when she's on a trip without you and wants to send you a particularly raunchy love letter

She likes convincing you to reenact said stories and love letters with her

And she REALLY likes making subtle references to them in conversation at a friend's house, just to watch the heat travel up your face to your ears

You're her favorite character to dream about

Lucio

He likes making you blush. It's a fantastic ego boost and it suits you

But planning ahead isn't his strong suit. If he manages to fluster you, it's because he saw an opportunity, and he seized it

So. Many. Dirty. Jokes.

At first it might feel like it's in poor taste. It's not the most romantic way to woo someone

However, there is a reason he threw the best parties. When it comes to fun, exciting, and pleasurable things, he is creative

You are going to hear innuendos that should not make as much sense as they do

You are going to hear references and suggestions that will make you stop and wonder, "how would that even work?"

And figuring out the answers to that question will make you flush every time

It doesn't help that he's a generally handsy person. He will take advantage of any and every excuse for physical contact in public

Will make an inappropriate noise every time you skewer something to grill it over the campfire. It's his signature joke

#arcana brainrot #the arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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watatsumiis · 1 year

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Special Privileges - Capitano Edition

Content: Capitano takes the reader to a Harbinger meeting. Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you') described as being physically smaller than Capitano (because he's an absolute titan of a man). General platonic fluff and physical affection.

Word count: 1.5k

"Time to go." Capitano informs you, abruptly placing his book open, face-down on the arm of the couch you're both sitting on together in his study - it's a small, nearly organised room, tucked away from prying eyes and off-limits to anyone who may seek to interrupt Capitano during his day (apart from you of course, you've been granted special privileges).

You let out a little sigh, pulling yourself closer to his side and hunching down smaller so that his cloak is encapsulating you like a blanket, the heavy fabric draped over your shoulders as you stare down at the elegant rug and absently pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion beneath you.

"Hm?" Capitano is a man of few words and even fewer visual cues, but you know him well enough by now that just the tilt of his helmet tells you exactly what he wants from you.

"Couldn't you just… skip the meeting?" You hazard, but immediately back off as you feel his shoulders stiffen minutely. "Let the ponces deal with their own problems for once?" You let your tone slip into more of a jokey one.

"Afraid not." He says, before cautiously wrapping an arm around you in a comforting gesture.

You wholeheartedly return the favour, shifting your weight on the couch to pull him into a hug. Though he's not in his full battle kit, he's still wearing a thick chestplate of some kind that feels sturdy and solid beneath your hands. It's somewhat comforting, in its own right.

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, twirling one thick, tightly coiled lock around two fingers. He tilts his head towards you and lets out a small sigh. "Come on." Capitano encourages you in that soft, gentle tone that he reserves for you (and the occasional small, cute animal he comes across)

You sit up, propping yourself off the couch for a few moments before impulsively plonking yourself down in his lap, facing him with one hand on each shoulder. "What if I don't?" You tilt your chin up to meet his eye (well, helmet-gap) defiantly. You wonder if perhaps you're being selfish - but quickly decide that it's been a long day. Maybe you deserve to be a little selfish. You don't often get to spend time with Capitano like this, and you don't want to let it slip away thanks to some dull meeting.

Capitano remains silent for a few moments, armoured hands coming to rest on your hips to keep you from squirming (not that it would worry him much, given that his size dwarfs anyone and everyone entirely). "Why not?"

"Because it's cold, and meetings are dumb." You decide to keep the point about wanting more snuggles to yourself. You're sure you've made it obvious enough already.

"Hm." He looks at you thoughtfully for a little longer, before dipping his head. "I see." Without another word, he wraps his arms around you and stands up, adjusting you so you're resting on his hip, not unlike how someone would carry a small child.

"H-hey, what are you doing?" You ask, wrapping your arms around him and clinging on tight. He's never been prone to dropping things, but you suppose there's a first time for everything.

"You're cold." He mutters, holding you with one big arm as he uses the other to button his large cloak up around you, leaving just your head sticking out. He pulls you closer so you're tucked neatly underneath his chin. "There." He says finally.

"What about your meeting?" You blink up at him, feeling the soft lining of his cloak brushing up against your cheek.

"Still going." Capitano wordlessly exits the study.

You frown, but say no more. Nobody would ever dare question a Harbinger - especially not such a highly ranking one. You can just peek over his shoulder if you crane your neck, and catch a baffled look from the Fatuus standing guard outside Capitano's study.

It makes you feel a little smug, the exclusive treatment that Capitano gives you. He's not usually so public in his displays of affection, so the fact that he's openly carrying you through the halls of Zapolyarny Palace makes it feel as if something soft and warm has curled up somewhere between your chest and your throat.

Capitano is a fast walker, whether he means to be or not. His armour thumps noisily as he all but marches towards the meeting room. You find yourself twirling his tightly wound hair once again as you watch the various rooms pass by - now you know how Sandrone feels, being carried around by that massive robot all day.

You let out a little puff of amusement at the comparison you've unwittingly made as Capitano dips his head to two people standing guard outside the meeting room as they open the door for him.

"A-ha. The mighty Captain finally decides to grace us with his presence." You stiffen as you recognise Arlecchino's smug drawl, turning as much as you can to get a look at the scene you've just been walked into.

Your heart drops in your chest - it seems like every Harbinger is in here. You almost want to turn back and scold Capitano for not telling you how important of a meeting this was going to be.

Someone lets out an amused scoff as you tuck yourself as close to Capitano as you can, pressing your chests together as he silently advances across the room.

"You've got a little something stuck in your cloak there, Captain." Arlecchino snarks, arms crossed over her chest as she watches you both pass by.

"He's got a little buddy!" Columbina is the next one to break the silence as she giggles good-naturedly. As unnerving as she can be at times, she often seems in high spirits.

You hear someone speak a language you don't recognise, and cautiously poke your head out to see Dottore sitting near the end of the table, chattering into a small device he holds in one gloved hand.

"Enough." Pierro interrupts as Arlecchino mutters something to Pantalone, who covers his mouth with one hand to hide his chuckle (though the narrowing of his violet eyes give his amusement away clearly). "Now we have all arrived, let's get this meeting underway." He doesn't even acknowledge your presence, which relieves you a little.

Capitano sits down by the head of the table (to Pierro's right) and adjusts you like you're nothing but a child's doll so you're sitting sideways in his lap, shoulder pressed flush against his chest.

Despite the fact that being brought into the presence of all the Harbingers feels somewhat like you've been lowered into a pit of venomous snakes, having Capitano to protect you makes you feel safer than you would have wandering around the Palace looking for some menial task to accomplish to make yourself seem busy.

You look around the room every now and then, but keep catching the eye of the other Harbingers - you especially dislike the almost hungry way Childe looks at you as he twirls a pocket knife absently between his fingers.

You quickly tune out the contents of the meeting - it's nothing you understand, and you figure that perhaps you'd be better off not knowing any of it anyways. You instead concentrate on Capitano, on his sturdy, unerring presence beneath you and the way he holds you so steadily and confidently, like he doesn't care what anyone else has to say.

If you set your hands on his chest, you can feel the rasp of his voice that reverberates from inside his armour, making the metal almost vibrate against your fingertips. If you hunch down a little and press your ear against him, you can hear and feel a sort of thrumming coming from inside of him - like a heartbeat, but not quite. It's captivating to listen to, soothing and repetitive to such a degree that you're lulled into a half-asleep state soon after the meeting begins.

It's warm and cosy and safe here in Capitano's lap. Every now and then, he rubs up and down your back with one big hand, and you feel a strange, vibrating prr-prr-prr come from deep inside his chest as he presses his chin momentarily to the top of your head in a way reminiscent of a light kiss and pets your head gently, brushing your hair out of your face carefully.

Nobody dares to say anything else to Capitano about his unexpected plus-one to the meeting - even Pulcinella (ever the gossip) doesn't say a word, just giving Capitano a strangely knowing smile as they begin to file out once the meeting is done with.

Even once everyone has left, Capitano remains seated, hunching his shoulders as he bends over a little to curl around you, allowing himself to indulge a little more in the comfort of having you so close now that the others are out of the picture.

A while longer passes, and you're so entirely comfortable and sleepy that you wonder if you might be dreaming as he finally speaks.

"I think… I will bring you to meetings more often."

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites (without credit + permission).

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #il capitano #genshin capitano

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azrielslightintheshadows · 6 months

Note

Can I make a request? Like what about if Rhys had a Daughter before amarantha and somewhow she took her and made her be just like rapuzel, like she was a baby and used her powers to her own benefit, and he didn’t know that she was still alive… and somehow she ran away from amarantha…

Family.

Inner circle x f!Reader -Rhysand's daughter

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma and death.

Masterlist.

So it's not exactly what you asked but I hope you enjoy it! P.s; I just realized I have never seen a movie about Rapunzel and I just know the basics of the story :')

“Ah there she is!” Beron smirked “Come my dear, I want you to punish those traitors”.

You approached him quietly and stared at the two young males on the floor in front of Beron’s throne.

“Come on dear I don’t have all day” he scoffed.

You held the tears back not wanting to be punished and kept your hands behind your back as you focused on the males. Both tensed and cried out as you let your talons pierce their minds and turn them into mist.

“Good” he purred, and you nodded.

“Put her back in her room” He ordered the guards and you let them grip your arms and drag you away.

Your room was cozy, and it offered a perfect view of the forest beneath the house. Even though you were trapped there you were thankful that they treated you with some kindness. You were only a baby from what you heard when Amarantha took you and locked you away. You would be dead if she didn’t want your powers. You grew up in a dark cell feeling tired and abused every time she used a piece of your power. You were always alone, you couldn’t remember your mother or your father but some nights you dreamed of a male, tall and graceful, screaming at the guards who carried you away, his violet eyes and tanned skin were the only proof that he was your father. Sometimes when you stared at the mirror you could see him staring back at you. Even though you couldn’t remember anything else, the thought that he cried out and tried to get to you when they took you away made you feel a bit of love for him.

When Amarantha was defeated all the magic that kept you in the cell disappeared and your powers came back, you ran away like your life depended on it - it probably did- and you tried to find your father only to smack into Beron’s chest. “What do we have here?” he had smiled.

Beron informed you about your father’s death and took you in, he kept you in a room where his servants brought to you everything you needed. The guards would come and get you when your powers were needed and then you would be locked in the room again. You didn’t mind it, at least it wasn’t a cell, and no one ever tried to take some piece of your power. These people saved you and you owed them so even though you hated killing those innocent faes, you never showed it, you wanted Beron to be proud of you.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts and you smoothed your dress. Beron’s eldest son -your fiancé walked in. His father had decided to wed you to him, yet you only saw him on special occasions.

“Y/n” he greeted.

“Lord Eris” you smiled politely.

“Follow me” he said and walked out. You quickly obliged with a curious look, he led you into his room and picked a cloak from his closet.

“Listen to me carefully…” he cupped your jaw and lifted your head making you look at his eyes “I’m taking you home, I want you to tell them the truth, that I never touched you and that I saved you multiple times from my father’s abuse”.

“Tell who?” you asked him softly.

“Your father and his guard dogs” he replied, and you took a step back shaking your head.

“My father’s dead” you breathed.

“No he isn’t, Beron lied because he wanted you.” He said and your knees trembled.

“What?” you felt tears streaming down your face.

“Come on before the guards realize you are gone” he said and pulled you closer, lifting the hood of your cloak and hiding your face. He winnowed you into an office and gestured to the chair.

“Don’t take the hood off yet.” He ordered and you nodded, keeping your gaze to the floor.

You heard footsteps and the door opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for disturbing me Eris” a deep voice said and you almost gasped. You had heard this deep and velvety voice again in your dreams.

“I have something that belongs to you” Eris spoke.

“Who’s that?” another voice said.

“Before I show you, I want you to promise to let her speak before pouncing on me.”

“I promise” the male scoffed.

You felt Eris’ hand on your hood, he pushed it back and you lifted your head, your violet eyes met your father’s and his breath hitched.

“Mother’s tits!” a winged male exclaimed.

“Is she…” your father started.

“Yes, Amarantha didn’t kill her, she kept her for her daemati powers. Her name’s y/n” Eris explained.

“Where did you find her?” another male spoke, you noticed some shadows flowing out of him and approaching you curiously.

“Beron found her when she escaped, he told her you were dead and took her in our court.”

“You had my daughter all this time?” he growled and grabbed Eris by the neck.

“Stop” you gasped and raised from your seat. He glanced at you and released your fiancé. “He never hurt me, he was the only one who cared about me… he saved me multiple times from Beron’s tortures.”

“Rhysand….” Eris spoke “I’m not the enemy”.

“Why now Eris? You could bring her here two years ago when Amarantha died” Rhysand snarled, and you flinched.

“I couldn’t, my father wouldn’t let her out of his sight and even if I managed to sneak her out you know I would be punished, he would kill me” Eris shouted.

“What changed now?” The one with the shadows asked.

“I want you to help me kill him and become High Lord”. Your fiancé said.

You ignored the ache in your heart as you realized that you were nothing more than a bargaining chip. “Leave” Rhys told him “We will have a proper meeting tomorrow, you can stay in Hewn city if you don’t want to go back”.

Eris nodded and opened the door. “Should I come with you?” you asked softly.

“No, stay with your father.” He smiled at you.

“But you’re my fiancé” you furrowed your eyebrows and Rhysand growled.

“No I’m not. My father wanted to marry you, I only offered myself to save you” he said and closed the door behind him.

You stared at the three males in front of you and took a step back.

“Its okay sweetheart, no one will hurt you” your father spoke and his eyes watered “Cauldron I thought you were dead”. You could see how much he wanted to touch you, but you couldn’t move, you don’t know him and even though he is your father you fear him.

“I remember you…” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes widened and he took a step closer. “I dreamed of you crying out and trying to get to me as guards took me away”.

“I couldn’t save you” he was crying now.

“Uhm, is my mother here?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“They killed her…”

You nodded and stared at him.

“Let’s get you home” he offered you his hand and winnowed away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He took you to a city he called Velaris and showed you your room in his house. You couldn’t really believe that you finally found someone of your family, especially a parent.

“I will send someone to buy you some clothes and if you want, we can go into the city tomorrow and you can buy whatever you want.” Rhys smiled.

“Uhm thank you, I just need one or two dresses.” You said softly and he frowned.

“Nonsense you are my daughter!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t want to waste your money…” you confessed.

“Honey you’re not wasting my money, I will buy you the whole world if you want.” You could see that he meant it, from the moment he saw you he has a longing look on his face and you knew that the only reason he kept a distance is to not spook you. Your heart melted at the thought and the need for love became too much so you let your body take the lead and walked up to him.

“Can I hug you?” your voice was barely above a whisper, and you avoided his eyes. Your father gaped at you.

“Of course. Never ask for my permission honey!”

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your cheek on his chest, you could hear his heart beating faster as he engulfed you and rested his chin on your head.

“I wish I could turn back time and watch you growing up to that beautiful female you now are” he whispered, and you felt a tear landing on your head. You let a soft sigh and pulled him harder against you. Even though you were a baby the last time he held you, his warmth felt familiar, and you could feel all his love pouring out of him into the hug.

“We’re together now, we can make up for the lost time” you told him.

“I will spend the rest of my life giving you all the love you missed.” He promised and you gasped as you felt something burning your skin behind your ear.

“It’s a bargaining tattoo, that’s how we make promises here” he explained, and you teared up. You would spend the rest of your life worshiping this tattoo.

“Would you like to meet the rest of our family?” he asked and pulled back.

“Yeah sure” you nodded, your heart skipping a beat when he said 'our'.

Rhysand stared at you for a few moments and grabbed your hand pulling you outside.

“We can fly to the house of wind” he said, and suddenly huge membranous wings appeared behind him. You giggled at the sight, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” he asked. “And I wondered where I got those from” you replied and summoned your own wings making him gasp and tear up again.

“You can fly?”

“No… didn’t have much room in my cell” he cursed under his breath.

“I can teach you” his eyes flashed with hope.

“I would like that.” You smiled.

He picked you up and you flew to the house of wind, the moment you walked inside you felt several pairs of eyes on you.

“Cauldron she looks just like him” a blonde female gasped and got up. “Hi I’m your father’s cousin -well your aunt Mor” she hugged you.

“Mor!” Rhys growled and you shook your head.

“It’s okay… I haven’t been held for a very long time.” You told him with a sad smile.

“Well this is the job for me! I’m Cassian your dad’s best brother, not from the same parents though” the huge male said before picking you up and spinning you around.

“Hi” you giggled “I’m y/n your brother’s daughter” he chuckled at that.

“This is Azriel my other brother” Rhys pointed at the male with the shadows. He scanned your form and approached you.

“It’s nice to meet you” he smiled and pulled you for a hug making everyone’s jaw drop. You weren’t surprised though, the way he hugged you showed that he understood the need for affection you had, and you wondered if he had ever experienced something similar.

“This is my mate Feyre” Rhysand said after Azriel let go of you. The beautiful female smiled at you kindly.

“Hello, I’m glad you’re finally home” she said softly and stepped closer. “Can I?”

“Yes” you smiled, and she hugged you. “You are the one who defeated Amarantha” you noted, and she nodded.

“Thank you” you breathed and hugged her harder.

After meeting her sisters and Amren you all sat around the table for dinner, everyone seemed so excited that you were there and soon the whole house buzzed with laughter and curses as Cassian shared stories of your father when he was younger. At some point you wanted to take the bottle of wine that was next to Rhysand, you stared at him for a few moments not sure how to address him. You yearned for a family and now you had one, and with that thought and a deep breath you said.

“Dad can you pass me the wine?”

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cmncisspnandmore · 7 months

Text

Troublesome feelings

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Reader

Warnings; Mentions of depression, sad, mentions of not eating.

Summary: Life when simon is away can be hard.

Beta Reader:

A/N: Hi, i wrote this during a really dark place. Its probably not that good but I needed it so I wrote it. In case someone else needs it too. Its unedited, and not beta read, so if there are mistakes im sorry. Honestly im just proud of myself for posting this.

The darkness that settled over the apartment was similar to the darkness that currently occupied every corner of your mind. The kind of darkness that made it hard to breathe, or move. The kind of darkness that caused tears to prick in your eyes but never fall. Because even crying at this point was too much effort. Everything was too much and not enough at the same time.

So you laid on the plush gray couch in the living room, the room void of all light except the small glow from the clock on the entertainment center. The only sounds were the neighbors, going about their days. Completely unaware of you being locked in your own personal hell.

The clock blinks; 3:32pm, it had been hours since you moved. Almost an entire day since you had anything to eat or drink. The hunger had subsided a while ago, now nausea swirled in your gut. Making even the thought of food repulsive, not that you had any intention of getting up at all. You would gladly rot on this couch for the rest of your life if you could.

You stare blankly at the light gray wall, the paint slightly chipped from the furniture banging up against it when you and Simon moved in.

You and Simon had been dating for almost a year when he asked you to move in with him, explaining that he never really used his apartment anyways. Between being away on a mission and training he was basically paying for a place to hold his furniture. You broke your lease on your flat and moved into Simons a month later. His apartment was pretty bare when you first moved in, only the essentials, a few dishes, a bed, a small uncomfortable couch and a kitchen table that looked like it had seen better days.

Simon had groaned when you made him go furniture shopping the first time, but he never argued with the choices you made. He would give you a nod of approval over the big items like the couch, and new kitchen table. But he allowed you to pick out all the other decor, even down to the throw pillows for the bed he didn't understand. The night the couch was delivered the delivery people didn't bring it into the apartment, they left it on the side of the road for you to figure out. So when you called Simon who was on his way home from the gym and told him about what happened he laughed. Then the two of you struggled to get the large item up the flight of stairs and into the new living room. It had gone fairly well until at some point the couch leg scraped against the wall leaving a white scratch on the light gray wall.

Now the scratch was nothing more than a reminder that 90% of the time you were alone here. Simon has been on missions more and more recently, leaving you alone in the apartment. Leaving you with your thoughts.

The same thoughts that often told you that the world was better off without you.

That Simon was better off without you.

It was those thoughts that led you here.

Laying on the couch, staring off into space.

You pull the throw blanket up over your head, blocking out the light of the clock. Cloaking you in complete darkness, the air under the blanket quickly becomes heavy and hot. Your lungs struggle to take in full breaths of the stifling air but you don't move. Letting the burn overtake everything else you were feeling.

This is how Simon found you when he came in a little after 5am. He was exhausted, his gear felt 100 pounds heavier than normal. After almost 3 months in the field, with little to no sleep every night, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you. He wanted to pull you close to his chest, feel your soft skin against his. He drops his bag at the door and pulls off his tactical vest and drops it onto the empty kitchen counter.

He pulls his handgun out of the holster and emptied the chamber and removes the magazine before he opens the hallway closet. He unlocks the safe in the bottom of the closet and places it inside. Once it's safely away in the safe, he unties his boots, and pulls off his skull balaclava before tossing it onto the counter.

“Love?” He calls softly as he steps into the living room and sees you laying on the couch under the blankets. He comes to sit at what he hopes is your feet and gently tugs the blanket from your head. His hands drag across the soft material, as he slowly reveals your face. You looked as exhausted as he felt.

“Lovie? Are you okay?” Simon's voice is soft as he reaches out and brushes some of your hair away from your face.

“How long are you home for?” You mumble, your voice is hoarse from the lack of use over the last few days.

“A while.. Why?” Simon asks, his hands coming to rest on your hip, his fingers squeezing lightly.

“Are you sure? Or are you going to randomly be called away in the middle of the night without explanation, or contact for 3 months?” you whisper and Simon sighs softly.

“Baby, you know I have to go when they call. It’s part of my job, I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you.. It was a need to know mission.. If i could have called you i would’ve… trust me hearing your voice would have been like a dream come true over hearing MacTavish’s loud mouth.” Simon leans back against the couch, his arm draped over the top as he watches you carefully.

You let out a shaky breath, “I'm drowning here Simon…”

“What do you mean love?” He asks, his brow laced with concern.

“I feel like I'm underwater, and no matter how hard I swim I can't get to the surface. Every time I get close it feels like something is waiting to just drag me right back down to the bottom. I’ve been laying here for days, barely moving because it feels like too much. Breathing is too much…” Your eyes fill with tears as you look at him, even in the terrible lighting he was still breathtakingly beautiful.

You told him once he looked like an angel, and Simon had laughed, really laughed. He told you that angels didn't have scars like his. But you argued with him about it, saying that there was no way that they didn't have some sort of scars. Especially when they spent eternity protecting humans. Simon had sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win that argument any time soon.

“Why haven't you told me sooner?” Simon asks, as he fully pulls the blanket off you, and reaches under you and pulls you into his lap. He settles you on his lap, his arms wrapped around your middle, your head tucked under his chin.

“Because I didn't want you to worry while you were in the field,”

“Of course I'm going to worry about you, I always worry about you. I just wish you told me you were feeling like this beforehand. I mean, Baby, it would kill me if something happened when I wasn't here…” SImons hands rub small circles on your waist.

“I need help Si..” you whisper, your throat tight with emotion.

“Then we’ll get you some help, Love. Okay? We’ll get you some help.”

“Simon?” Your voice cracks.

“Yes Lovie?”

“I love you..”

“I love you too, how about we go take a hot shower, and then make something to eat, and then we can take a long nap. And when we wake up we can call around and find you a doctor or someone to talk to, okay?” Simon pulls you impossibly closer.

“Okay..” you whisper and with that Simon puts his hands under your thighs and lifts you, walking you both towards the bathroom. He sets you down on the bathroom counter before he turns towards the shower. You watch as he adjusts the water to the right temperature then comes over, pulling his black shirt off in one smooth movement. His chest and abs are a rippling wall of muscle. If you were feeling better you would have jumped him right then and there. But even now, with Simon standing in front of you wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips. The only thoughts that flooded your brain was that this was the first shower you’d be taking in almost a week.

“Arms up, Baby,” Simon whispers, tugging at the bottom of the shirt you were wearing. You reluctantly put your arms up and Simon pulls your shirt off and unclasps your bra. Before he grabs your hips and pulls you off the counter, before he slides your shorts down. Once you are completely naked he guides you into the shower with a hand on your lower back. You step into the hot water and let it wash over you.

After a few moments Simon's large frame steps into the shower behind you, out of the corner of your eye you see him reach for the various soaps you have on the shelf. He grabs your shampoo and starts to massage it into your hair. He spends time rinsing your hair and then lathers a washcloth and spends more time than you do, making sure you’re thoroughly scrubbed. You stand under the hot stream as Simon makes quick work of washing himself before he turns off the water and grabs two towels.

He wraps one around you and then wraps the second around his waist. Once you both are out of the shower he dries off quickly changing into a pair of black sweatpants and one his signature black hoodies. You start to dry yourself off, and change into a pair of your own sweatpants, and one of Simons’ black hoodies.

Simon’s large hand rests on your lower back as he guides you into the kitchen towards the table where he pulls out a chair for you. As you take a seat you watch Simon walk over to the fridge and the cabinets, opening them before he turns to you.

“What do you want to eat?” He asks quietly, his hands resting on the back of the chair opposite of you.

“Something small… Toast? And maybe some blueberry tea?” You ask.

Simon gives you a small nod before going about fixing you something to eat, your attention turns to the window in the kitchen. The sun is starting to rise, the sky painted an orangey pink, the wispy clouds making it look like someone painted the scene. Why couldn't you just feel better? You felt guilty having Simon take care of you like this. You should be able to shower yourself, and make your own food. But the thought of even trying to do those things makes you want to curl back up on the couch. Hide away under the blankets again and never come out.

Simon startles you when he places the plate of toast and cup of blueberry tea down in front of you. You had been lost in your thoughts and hadn’t heard him come over to the table. He sits across from you, his own breakfast in front of him, his plate piled with toast, and fruit. A large mug of black tea next to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, as you take a few bites of the toast.

“Of course, love.”

You both sit in silence as you eat, it takes you longer to eat than Simon, his plate sits empty on the table as he sips his drink. His large hands covered most of the mug, obscuring the skull face pattern on it. You glance down at your half eaten toast and partially empty tea before pushing the dishes away, your stomach turning from finally eating after a few days.

“You done?” Simon asks, reaching for the dishes and stacking them on top of each other.

“Yeah.. Sorry.. I just.. I can't eat anymore,” you whisper, looking down at your folded hands in your lap.

“It's okay, I'm proud of you for eating what you could,” he smiles as he clears the dishes.

Simon walks over to you after putting the dishes in the sink and takes your hand, his brown eyes soft as he smiles at you. “Let's go take a nap, yeah?”

You give him a small nod as he pulls you to your feet and walks with you into the bedroom. He climbs into the bed under the covers and pulls them back for you, patting the bed next to him. You carefully climb in and he pulls you against him. His chest to your back, his head resting in the space behind your shoulder as he anchors his arm around your waist. You close your eyes, matching your breathing to his, and soon you both start to drift off. For the first time in what seems like forever, the world doesn't seem quite as dark.

#simon x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #sad #comfort #depression

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johnwickb1tsch · 6 months

Text

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) PART 2

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1

PART 2.

You tell him that you’ll meet him there. After your little crying jag, you have to go home and clean up. Maybe with some painkillers and a nap with an ice pack on your eyes you won’t look like death warmed over. He offers to pick you up, but you decline, knowing it would make the drive twice as long for him.

For a moment he seems like he wants to argue, but in the end he lets it go.

The restaurant is in Manhattan. It’s the sort of place you could never afford, and maybe even if you could, it wouldn’t exactly be your scene. You smooth your dress over your hips as you get out of your cab, hoping you won’t embarrass John. It was the nicest thing you own for a respectable rendezvous, a dark green paisley Etro dress with long sleeves that you’d scored at a thrift shop. It bared your shoulders with a wide neckline, but not much cleavage. You were behaving yourself tonight, despite the little suggestions the devils on your shoulders were whispering into your ear.

Despite the fact that you arrive early, John is waiting for you outside, looking utterly edible in another black on black three-piece suit. Does he buy them in bulk? The thought makes you smile a little, a thing he returns in small measure. There is a sadness that cloaks this man like a mantle, and for a moment you wonder if that is what people see, when they look at you. You’re not sure you’re qualified to help him at all, but maybe, just maybe, there could be some solace in your shared grief for the same woman who left you both behind.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Nervously, you look through the window at the glittering lights and swanky diners laughing over their expensive glasses of wine. You feel unbearably self-conscious. “Am I dressed ok for this place?”

“You look beautiful.” He says it so matter of fact, his tone completely platonic. And yet…

And yet.

He looks at you with a haunting intensity that grips you to the bone. He isn't even looking at your body. He's looking at your face, almost as though he's seen a ghost.

You know you remind him of her, and you wonder if maybe this is a bad idea.

But he shakes himself out of it, offering his arm, and even though you have an inkling that maybe you shouldn't, another part of you that is usually kept locked up in the dungeon with the rest of your worst impulses pushes you to take it, because you want to. Bolstered by his approval and your own special brand of foolhardiness, you slip your arm through his with your head held high.

You haven't technically done anything wrong yet. Lusting after your sister's husband in an abstract way you never had any intention of acting on isn't exactly new. But the rest...is edging into a murky gray area.

What would Helen think? She'd probably be amused, truth be told, at least by your own inner turmoil. You remember that she told you once that she never got jealous when women went all googly eyed over her model-handsome husband, because she trusted him so completely. He doesn't even look at them, she said.

Well. He'd looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were a tasty little bunny. Just the thought made you flush all over again, your fingers involuntarily flexing on John's bicep.

Dear lord, it was like granite.

He looks down at you, curious, and you know you look as embarrassed as you feel. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize, looking anywhere but at his burning anthracite eyes. He pats your hand, but says nothing, sparing you the embarrassment of making up some lame excuse.

You go inside, and the maître d’ is exceptionally solicitous. Welcome back, Mr. Wick. This way please, Mr. Wick. He and Helen must have been quite the regulars.

Once you are at your table John waves off the maître d’, opting to push in your chair for you. His fingers brush your shoulder afterwards. It was probably a mistake, but you cannot suppress a small shudder. He does not look at you as he seats himself, opting to pick up the menu.

You follow suit, your skin on fire.

It was an accidental touch, you tell yourself.

He didn't mean anything by it.

You glance up from your menu, to find he is looking at you out the corner of his eye.

You tell your treacherous heart that attempts to pound out of your chest to settle the fuck down.

“So...what was Helen’s favorite dish here?”

He doesn't look up, and for some reason you are relieved.

“Guess.”

“Hmm.” You scan the offerings. It is mostly French leaning nouvelle cuisine. It all looks delicious, and very expensive. You know the moment your eyes find the line, and you smile. “The magret de canard.”

This time he does smile with you. It is tinged with nostalgia, and your heart aches. For him. For you. For the woman you are remembering together.

“She took me to Europe when I graduated from high school. She ordered that dish in every restaurant in France we went to. She said it was so delicious there was no point in trying anything else.” You cackle with another memory. “Then when we got home she was determined to learn how to make it. It went ok until the sauce. Holy shit, the black smoke in that kitchen was like a tire fire!” You wipe away a tear that is borne of mirth and memory.

When you look across the table again John is smiling gently, as though he can see it perfectly in his own mind’s eye.

“She was a terrible cook.” He says it fondly, like it amused the hell out of him.

“I know. I am too, I’m not throwing shade here. Do you like to cook?”

The side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Yes. I find it relaxing.”

Figures. He would be so perfect. One of many reasons Helen undoubtedly fell in love with him.

When the waiter comes John orders a filet, and you, the duck. “For Helen,” you say with a wistful curl of lips. He stares at you silently for a long beat before nodding, returning your smile perfunctorily. You marvel that you can already tell when his expressions are genuine, and when he’s playing the part he needs to for the sake of social nicety. Your heart aches for him. It must be so painful to be here, where he'd dined with Helen so many times. Maybe more like sticking a finger in a wound, than a brave act for the sake of nostalgia. What were the two of you thinking?

It occurs to you, from things Helen had said, that maybe this is more than just her favorite restaurant.

“This is where you met, isn't it?”

His eyes are fixed on a particular spot at the bar. “Right over there. She was meeting a client, but he canceled. So we had dinner together.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn't happen to have anything to do with that?” All Helen had ever told you about John's occupation was that he worked in security, but she had implied multiple times that he was resourceful, smart, and not someone to be fucked with.

The corner of his mouth ticks, his eyebrow rising slightly. You congratulate yourself for lifting him at least a little out of his funk. “I'm afraid it was just luck on my part.”

“Fate,” you correct, toasting with your water glass, because you haven’t been brought drinks yet.

“It's nice to think so.”

“So then you had dinner.” You know the story. “Where did you sit?”

“Right here.”

You feel a chill, knowing that once, your sister had sat in this very place, across from this very man, and changed the course of her life forever. You marvel at what that must have been like. You never fall for men quickly, usually keeping them at arm’s length for as long as you can manage. You’ve never experienced love at first sight, or first night, but looking at this handsome man across from you, it's not so hard to imagine.

“Did you fall in love that night?” you ask quietly.

“I did. I think for Helen...it took a little longer.”

Immediately you shake your head. “No,” you contradict, wanting him to know this. “She called me, the next day. She told me she'd just met the most amazing man and that she wanted to spend her life with him. I thought she was crazy.” You look around at the intimate setting, the low soft lighting and the swanky surroundings, a little misty eyed. Then, you look at him. This handsome devil with the soft eyes of a poet.

Helen hadn’t been frivolous. She hadn’t even been particularly romantic. Meeting John Wick changed all that.

“Maybe I understand a little better now.”

You look at each other from across the table. There is a longing in his eyes that you know you do not have the power to heal, and yet you would if you could. You would give a great deal to see this man made whole again—you’re not really sure why.

He looks away first, and you feel…raw.

“Thank you. I…was the best version of myself, for her.” His long fingers trace a circle in the white table cloth, a hairline of a frown appearing on his brow. “I've slid backwards a bit, since.”

Hoo boy, did you get that.

“That’s ok,” you say softly. “We do what we have to, to survive.”

He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes through his long hair. Your fingers itch to brush it out of his face. To touch him, and you absolutely know you shouldn't. Shouldn’t even think it. But there is something in the way he's been looking at you today. Something almost like…hunger, and your belly flutters with a thousand butterflies made of bad ideas and midnight longings.

“So…what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

You shake your head with your heart in your throat. Is he asking out of politeness, making chit chat, or does he want to know if you’re unattached?

The truth is you’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than six months, and a nervous little laugh escapes you.

“I’ve…never met anyone who it was worth the sacrifice. Things are always nice at first, but then he starts to try to mold you into the person he really wants you to be, and you realize all along he just wanted someone to cook his meals and wash his socks.”

John lifts an eyebrow at this, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“Maybe you should try dating someone who can afford a housekeeper.” He looks up at you then, his dark eyes soft yet penetrating, and you swear he can see straight through to the depths of you. The look almost feels like a challenge, somehow. You try to meet him head on, but in the end the unbearable heat of it makes you squirm, and you look away.

The waiter saves you from what you might say next, bringing the bottle of wine John ordered.

Thank god, because you need a drink.

#john wick #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you fic #john wick x reader fic

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downbadfororcs · 1 year

Text

First steps

————————————

Within a village deep in the mountains lived a blacksmith. One of the best in the lands. The orc who lived there was once a great chief, but retired many years ago, no longer finding pillaging could fill his heart. He worked often, gathering orders from far off lands to keep his mind and hands busy.

The hearth of the workshop burned bright and hot, there was a constant thrum of hammer to heated metal, many would find the workspace suffocating. But Xürgarh quite enjoyed it.

While it would be a while before these weapons would be picked up, but Xürgarh had nothing better to do at the moment. Needing to keep busy.

The orc had only stopped his movements when he’d heard a loud, excited knock at the door. He sighed and dropped the sword into the cold water beside him, slipping off his apron as he walked to the front of the shop. The knocking only got louder.

“Yeah Yeah im coming”

He mutters under his breath, he’s about to reach for the door when it bursts open. Xürgarh keeps an unamused expression as he catches the door from hitting him, a familiar centaur stood in the doorway. His next-door neighbor, Tymatius, huffs as he sees his friend still working.

“What are you doing?! Labor time ended hours ago!”

Xürgarh could only grunt in response, turning back to the store counter as he starts to straighten up his workspace. The centaur huffs in irritation

“For the last time you can’t just stay in your forge all day just because you don’t wanna socialize”

“Well not with that attitude I can’t”

“You’re impossible”

“Good”

Tymatius scowls and snatches the hammer out of Xürgarh’s hand, nearly dropping it from the weight.

“What thé hell are you doing?!”

Xürgarh growls as he tries to grab the hammer from Tymatius, who quickly shuffles away

“Getting you out of this damn shop!”

“No. Now give that back.”

“How about this, you go out to the fireplace tonight with me to have fun, and I leave you alone the rest of the month”

The orc thought over the proposition, eventually sighing as he gives in

“Fine, just let me put away my things”

“No need! I’ll do it, you need to change. You real of sulfur”

Xürgarh grumbles but does so, knowing if not he would never hear the end of it. He comes back down a moment later and is dragged away before he can see the state of his work area. The orc huffs as he locks up the forge

“you better have put my tools up properly”

“Yeah yeah hurry up, I want to get a good booth”

“You just want a good spot to ogle at the barkeep”

Xürgarh snides as he puts his keys in his pocket, walking toward the tavern. His lip twitches to a slight smirk as he sees Tymatius fail to defend himself, The centaur caught off guard before catching up with his friend.

They enter the tavern, the place has had many owners but none have made it more homely and inviting than the Minotaur who owns it, Marvin.

The tavern was reopened a year ago. At the same time, they started appearing.

A hooded figure sits in the same seat every time Xürgarh is there, they drink a single glass, pay, and leave. Only occasionally staying for conversation with the barkeep. The other patrons never seem to notice them. Except one orc.

The usuals are all here, but strangely, thier seat is empty

“What Are you staring at?”

Xürgarh is snapped out of his thoughts as his friend speaks to him

“Hm? Nothing, how’s Marvin Doing?”

“He’s doing well”

“Mhm, and have you given him your courting beads yet”

“Shut up”

Xürgarh huffs out a laugh,

“you better get on with it, you know many he has many admirers”

Tymatius starts talking but Xürgarh can’t listen, his eyes catch the midnight blue cloak pass through the crowd with ease, almost as if they weren’t even in the room.

They sit down, Marvin immediately tending to them dispose the rowdy bar, Tymatius seems to catch on that his friend is distracted, his gaze finding the same location as the orc Infront of him.

“Hm, I wonder who that is? I’ve never seen them”

Xürgarh only grunts in response, looking away from from the stranger, Tymatius breaks out in a grin

“You’ve seen them haven’t you, you’re always so quiet when we’re here! This is why! You like them

Xürgarh is caught off guard and growls

“no, no no no”

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes! You need to talk to them, they could have your mark!”

Tymatius receives a glare from the orc,

“If you know what is good for you you’ll keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Oh come on! A soul mark is so rare, especially for orcs! A seat just opened up, go sit next to them-“

“Tymatius.”

“Look, just because you like to be sad and alone doesn’t mean the rest of can stand to see it. now go! And don’t come back till you’ve talked to them”

“And if i don't?”

“Then I’ll tell Marvin You’re paying my tab”

“… you’re evil”

“I know, now go!”

Xürgarh grumbles but does so, taking the free seat beside the unknown figure, from their stature he would guess they’re human.

He tries to get a glance at them from where he sits, but it would be hard to do so without being obvious, he glances back at the centaur with a scowl.

Marvin stands Infront of him after a moment.

“Xürgarh, how are you, it’s been many moons since you’ve been in my bar.”

“Yeah. Ive been keeping busy. A certain someone does understand that”

Martin laughs “I figured he’s why you’re here”

Xürgarh grunts and glances down back at the human again, even though they’re looking straight ahead, it feels as though thier eyes are staring through to his soul.

They’d sat until thier glass was empty, placed two coins on the counter, before slipping off the stool and leaving. Xürgarh felt a little defeated, but what was he supposed to say?

‘Hello strange person I’ve gazed at every day I’ve seen you! What’s your name? Promise I’m not a freak!’

The orc sighs and glances behind him, seeing Tymatius has had more than one too many and is currently swapping stories with one of the other regulars. Xürgarh uses this moment to slip out of the tavern. Placing two coins down before making his way outside.

Xürgarh took his time walking back to his shop, thinking over the situation over and over with different ‘what if’s each time. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much, they were just some random patron, there’s no way Tymatius could be right. Marks were sacred, few orcs had them.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as he hears a scuffle up ahead, his pace speeds up unknowingly until he reaches the entrance of an alley. When he looks down he sees the same midnight blue cloak he’s stared at so many nights. He feels his blood run cold as he runs into the alley.

Xürgarh makes his way through, being met with a sight that makes him see red. A man has them pined up against the wall as blow after blow hits. The sound of fist hitting flesh is sickening. His mind leaves him as his body acts, ripping the attacker off of them, thier body slumping to the floor as the man is thrown into the nearest wall. A harsh crack is heard at the impact.

Xürgarh is quick to kneel at thier side, cradling the human as they’re curled up, thier arms blocking thier face from his view. He’s unsure of what to do until he hears them speak, causing him to lean down to properly hear them

“My cloak- please.. please-“

He picks them up, keeping his gaze ahead until he reaches the entrance of the alley, finding the cloth where he’d last seen it.

Xürgarh grabs it, wrapping it around the human in his arms, they seem to relax at this, taking a moment before speaking

“Marvin- take me to him.. please”

The orc can only nod, making haste in his way back to the tavern, this time going ti the side door for employees only. He knocks frantically, not stopping until the door opens.

The Minotaur stands there, agitated, until he sees the crumpled form in his arms. Marvin stands there stunned for a moment before taking the human from Xürgarh

“Thank you.”

Xürgarh can only nod as the door quickly shuts, frantic footsteps to the upper level can be heard until it all grows quiet. He can only stare at the door.

Praying to the gods that the human lives

Meeting Again

#orc #orc x reader #x reader #fantasy #orc boyfriend #monster #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster fucker

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lady-ashfade · 1 year

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The Crows and prey.

Six of crows x Bunny!Fem!Reader. (Bunny hybrid) [Romantic]

Plot: Ketterdam was in a bad storm and the crow get locked in at the club together for the rest of the night. It takes one of them to spot something outside and then the rest follow, and they go to figure it out. Ready to fight, ready to kill. But they soon realize there is no threat.

Previous. [] Next.

Readers appreciate: Female, I thought of a shorter reader but any body type can be used. (But I think bunny hybrids would be short, if you’re tall just imagine) The readers ears are white, because it’s easy and I think they are freaking adorable. And with darker skin tones they will be beautiful and pop out. That the only thing that is said.

Warnings: Abuse, reader being abused, being slaved and sold, blood, wounds, gaslighting, future dark yandere tendencies, possessiveness, and obsession. I wanna make this serious kinda dark, but nothing to bad, but they probably will be medium-hard yandere’s.

Tagglist: @igakc @babyblue-chaos @aqueennia

Btw: This took to long, so bare with me for the mistakes and spelling shit- I just needed to get this posted.

The small tapping on the widows as the droplets of rain hit the glass, the silence around the bar made it easy for them to hear it hit the walls from the outside. It was a very angry rainy night, people left early to get home while they still could. The group was forced to stay here for the night and couldn’t get back to their shared house, so they took comfort knowing they could be together still.

“The saints must be upset.” Jesper commented and raised his finger that rested on his cup. Inej looked at him and raised a brow and gave him a look, he just smiled and muttered his apologize. The thunder roared through the city and they could feel it sometimes, it was one hell of a storm outside.

The wind whistling through the small cracks of the door, “We could play a game?” Nina smirked and leaned forward with a mischievous smile on her lips. “Might as well do something fun.” She looked around the table at their eyes. Kaz looked annoyed and didn’t give in, he wasn’t doing some foolish.

“What do you have in mind?” Wylan asked and snuggled into his boyfriends chest and took a sip of his tea. “Charades? Two truths and a lie, or swords and shields.” She named off some games to see if they liked the sound of any of them. The table broke out with the crew, except kaz, with their own ideas.

Kaz looked away from his friends and looked out the window that was almost pitch black, he watched the water collect and rush together. Something moved across the widow and blocked the small incoming light, then disappeared to the direction of the door. His chest clinched and he stood up right away, everyone stopped and looked at him. He had a scowl on his face, different then his calm one.

He glared at the door and looked at them for a second then back to gesturing something, Nina was the first to pick up. She took a second and focused on the heartbeats she could hear, one more then usual. Nina nodded and they all stood up quietly, Jesper slowly moved towards his guns, Nina put her hands together. Inej was getting herself ready for anything, wylan looked around and saw the butter knife and grabbed it, knowing he could kill someone’s with it. Nina looked at mattias who placed a hand on her shoulder, as if this could go wrong. But he was ready, they all were.

Inej walked in front of all of them and quietly moved along the wooden floor towards the door, she was the one to open it. She grips a knife as she slug open the door ready to face the person, but her eyes found nothing but the road being rained on. A split second later she heard a noise and turned to the side, her hand blocking herself.

“I’m sorry..” a quite voice said from down on the floor, the deck roof stopped the rain from hitting them both. Inej looked down and saw someone leaning down in a cloak and couldn’t see their face, but their voice was soft and scared. Jesper came quickly and pointed his guns to make sure to get his point across, but he stopped when Inej placed a hand on his guns and pushed them down.

“Are you alright?” Inej asked and inched closer, you moved back and held your side to get away. “Please don’t hurt me- I’ll leave.” You groaned and held onto the railing to help yourself up. Nina could hear the slowly heartbeat, but it spiked up when you saw them. Clearly you were hurt. “I have no interest in hurting you.” Inej put her knife away and kaz glared at her, she was letting her guard down.

Kaz stepped through the door and eyed you up and down. No one could see your face, it was dark and your hood hugged your face closely. He did notice the hand that stuck to your side and he could see red staining your hand. “There’s a healer down the street, this isn’t a place for you.” Kaz earned everyone’s glare.

“Kaz.” Inej looked at him with begging eyes, also angry at him for being cruel. You understand and didn’t want to be there anymore, the people around you were too many. The man dressed in all black with the cane was giving you bad vibes, he scared you.

You fell back a bit and hissed in pain, you moved your feet up and took a step. Your body threatened to collapse but you pushed passed it, this wasn’t the first time you had been in this situation. But for the first time you weren’t back at your home- Or the place you were sold to and it was never a place you called home. “Sorry to disturb you.” They watched you carefully step down the wet steps and hold the railing tightly to keep you up.

Jesper looked back at kaz, Nina glared at the man, wylan was heartbroken, Matthias stared in pity, Inej knew how it felt to be like you. Hurt and clearly no where to go. Kaz felt their glazes on him and didn’t want to give in. He wasn’t going to offer a helping hand because then someone might mistake them for kind people. Then every injured lowlife would come seeking shelter.

But when he looked into Inej’s eyes, the frown in her brows and searched for the answer she wanted. “Fine.” He rolled his eyes and walked back inside for them to deal with it. As you made the final step you were stopped, “We can help you.” Your skin felt the rain again and you shivered. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll be fine,” you spoke through shaking teeth from the cold. “You’re clearly hurt, and it’s hell out here.” Jesper took a step and you backed up and your foot hit the mud. They all stopped because they saw how frightened you were, and they asked themselves why you were so skittish. Inej knew- Or could have a guess.

“You can come in, take a breath and have a roof over your head for the night. We have supplies for you to fix yourself, we don’t even have to be near you.” You looked at her for a minute at the soft tone in her voice and the small smile on her face, along with the rest looking at you so soft.

You picked yourself up the stairs, “Can someone help me in?” You trusted them enough because even if this was a trap, you needed help. Nina smiled and made her way down to you and held her arm out, you took it and she helps you up and into the bar. They all followed after you both, kaz was sitting at the table and his eyes feel on you again.

The light of the candles lit up the room and as close as Nina was she could see your face clearly now. Her heart stopped, a bloody and bruised face. She couldn’t explain it but you were as beautiful as a blooming flower, but seeing you like this filled her with rage. Why? She just meet you but she felt this pull towards you.

“Inej, come with me and let’s get her cleaned up.” They took you into the back and the boys were left feeling a bit lonely as they saw you disappear. A tug at their hearts had them as confused as Nina. “The supplies are coming out of all of your paychecks.” Kaz mumbled and took a swing of his whiskey, the others rolled their eyes and went to sit down at the table to wait it out.

In the back room they made and place for you to sit, Inej got all the supplies you needed and placed them on the table. Nina looked around and made a bed for you on the floor, with blankets and pillows she could find. “Do you want us to leave?” Inej asked and you looked up at her and she saw your face. Inej’s stomach dropped and she wondered who did that to you?

“I-” you whimpered out in pain and leaned back and pulled the stuff closer to you. For a slight second your sleeves rises up and Inej caught a glimpse, a familiar sick feeling caught in her throat. “I shall be fine with it.” You wanted them to leave so you could get all your wounds, you needed to take off your hood. Inej sighed in disappointment but she understood, she whistled for Nina to come over.

“Yell if you need anything.” Nina shouted as they both walked out of them room. You got to work on your side first, the deepest wound you had. This was the first time your owner had truly hurt you, or this bad anyway. He wasn’t happy when you fought back, so he got angry along with his booze which lead to where you are now.

“Is she alright?” Jesper asked as the ladies walked out. Nina shrugged and went over to the bar were kaz sat and poured herself a drink, matthias got up to be beside her. “She’s hurt pretty bad.” Inej spoke and pulled out one of her blades and played with it as she glared at the ground.

Kaz looked at her and recognized the look on her face, one she got when she was mad or overthinking something from her past. “She’s marked.” She stated and everyone turned their head to listen to her. “The menagerie?” Wylan asked and stood up.

“No, I haven’t seen this marking before. I don’t know what it’s from- Or if it’s the same, but it’s in the same place.” Inej pointed to where her marking once was. “That’s why you wanted to help her?” Kaz asked.

Inej glared at him, “No. I helped because it’s the right thing to do.” Her tone made it known she was getting annoyed, something she didn’t do often, or showed.

Behind the closed door the extra pair of ears hung down the side of your head, once fluffy white fur was coated with dirt and blood. Cuts along them hurt almost worse the the slash on your hip. You couldn’t help but overhear their conversation even if the ears were ringing, it made you a little panicked.

Slowly you applied some medicine on the cuts on your ears and they twitched in pain, you whimpering at the sting. You rushed the cleaning process on your hip and then the bandage that you wrapped around yourself. You filled your pockets with some of the supplies and got up and looked at the window. You pull your hood out and tied the bands on the back of your head to make it stay.

You unlocked the widows and quietly opened it up, looking down at the ground under thinking of you could handle the small drop. This was for the best, if they knew the symbol on your wrist they could take you back. You had finally gotten out after years of trying and you weren’t going back.

“Where are you going?”

You jumped around at the voice of the girl from earlier. She wore red and had light skin, brown hair and a nice smile. A big man stood next to her…He looked rough and scary but at the same time kinda soft.

“Thank you for the help, I will pay you back.” Nina took a step forward and smiled wide at you. “No silly, you stay here for the night. You must be scared, and we don’t want to hurt you. You’re owned by someone. Yes? Maybe the one who hurt you?” She was strangely right and that made you a bit scared.

“If you go out there they might find you, take you back. This is the safest place for you.” The younger looking man stepped through the door and his eyes fell on you as Nina spoke. “You don’t want that do you, sweetie?” Her voice was smooth but they hit you hard.

She knew her manipulation would work, of course it did. Fear was powerful, but so easy to control.

You looked out the window at the puddles splash, you sighed and closed it shut the glass, you looked at them apologetically. “I’ll stay here tonight.” They all hummed and gave you smiles, some more bigger then others but still smiles more the less. “Get you some rest dear, we will leave you to it.” Nina said and pulled the big man out the door.

The pale small one stayed for a minute and looked at you and you squirmed a bit under his gaze. “My names Wylan.” You blinked and played with your hands. “Hello, wylan.” His body tingles as you speak his name, as if he craves it more. He stayed for a minute to learn your name but you didn’t seem to want that. So he smiled at you one last night and left you be.

You looked at the clothes they left for you and you decided to put them on because you were going to get sick if you didn’t. But you kept your hood on as you laid down on the bed they had made you. You found it comforting, it was like the nest you had back there. But this was wasn’t as bad, you liked it well.

So you snuggle up into the blankets and moved the pillow underneath your head and let your body finally get some rest. Hoping when you’d wake up, you’d still be here.

Kaz stared at you as your face stayed calm and still. He found it almost cute how you looked- So pretty and adorable, but the cuts on your skin made him feel a certain way. Kaz found himself staring at you for a while, it was his turn and he was forced to do so. But he was glad he did because he needed to have a look at you and figure you out.

Body stirring to the side he saw your eyes clinch before opening them. The light was brighter then the day before, the sun came out of the clouds that once blocked it. He saw the light hit your face and it was almost heavenly to him, and your eyes he finally got to see their color. In the moment, new waves took him under and made him feel overwhelmed.

It was strange to him, but he pushed aside the urge to protect you and touch you in that moment. “Hello, sunshine.” His voice laced with sarcasm. You turned your head and groaned at the pain your side, “Um, hello.” You rubbed your eyes to see clearly.

You gasped as your wrist felt something cold and sharp, his cane brought its way up and pulled your hand closer. “What is this?” He asked and pointed to the ink in your skin. You swallowed and pulled your hand back and held it close for your chest. “You clearly know what it is.” He raised a brow and tilted his head.

“Let me rephrase,” you watch him lean down a bit and your heart begin to beat faster. He looked threatening. “Who do you belong to?” You bite your lip and looked away from him and tried not to tear up at the memories. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Kaz chuckled and smirked, “That marking means you do, but to who? Never seen that one before.” You pushed yourself up and leaned on the wall facing him. “You want to take me back?” He saw the fear in your eyes as you asked that question. That made him never want to give you back, not that he would in the first place.

“Not at the moment, no. My crows wouldn’t be too pleased.” His words confused you. Kaz felt his heart squeeze as you moved your head, it was like some sort of confused animal. Adorable. “Crows? Like the birds?” It was his turn to be puzzled for a second. You didn’t know dirtyhands and his crows? The wraith, sharper, demolitions expert, heartrender and her boyfriend, and him? The bastard of the barrel.

“My crew, the ones that took you in. Went against my wishes just for you.” He pointed out and you nodded in understanding. “Your name?” You asked. He felt his chest grow with a feeling at how your eyes looked at him. So beautiful. Then the soft voice that sounded like heaven to his ears. “Call me kaz.” You made a note of his name. Kaz went on to tell you all of their names, it was making you head spin to put faces to them but you got it soon enough.

“Tell me..” he raised a brow, he didn’t even know your name. “Y/n, that’s all I remember.” You shrugged and gave him a soft smile. Kaz looked down at your wrist and glared at the skin covered up. “Tell me, y/n” the name tasted like flowers in his mouth, “Who is the person who put the mark on your skin, give me something. We can keep you safe here, but you have to talk.” Your heart dropped and he saw the look in your eyes as they got wider. Sadness laced behind your eyes and it angered him slightly, someone so soft spoken as you was probably scared into acting that way.

As the thoughts run in your hears your breath begins to pick up and chest going up at down at a fast pace. Your eyes look over the room at everything and your hands grip the sheets. “You can’t- I need to go.” You gripped onto the windowsill above you and tried to bring yourself up, but the pain in your side and body made you fall back. Kaz watched with fear, you couldn’t leave-

No, no you had to stay.

He thought for a minute of what to say and how to bring you out of this panic state. It was painful for him to watch. Then he saw something drip down the side of your head, it coming from underneath your hood, and then to your far cheek. “You’re bleeding.” He pointed a finger and you only shot up. You didn’t feel the pain grow because you were to focus on your mind, the cuts on your ears must have busted open again. You let out a whimper and place your hand on the second pair of ears on your head.

“Take off the hood.” Kaz motioned with his hands. But you didn’t want to because then he would know what you were. And he could end up like the rest of them.

“No, I can take care of it. Just leave me for a few.” You blinked up at him and gave him a small but weak smile. Had he ever seen you without the hood? You slept with it on, you didn’t want to part with it. He found that intriguing.

“Take off the hood, it’s not a option. You’re hurt and you clearly didn’t take care of it the first time and it’s on your head. Do you want to lose the blood going to your brain?” You shook your head.

“If I take it off you’ll turn out like him! And I will not be sold again..” you shouted and he saw the emotion in your eyes, “Never again.” Your soft tone returned and broke.

“Inej would have my head if I sold you.” You glared at him and bit and showed you were in no mood for his comments. “I promise to not sell you out. You have a place now, you’ll work for me to pay your debts. But my crew and I will let no harm come to you.”

If you could just stand up fully without falling you would be out of the door by now and send money later. You wanted freedom but somehow this didn’t feel like it, but you had no other option. Sighing you nodded your head and untied the knot behind the hoodie to loosen it. It felt like a million years for kaz, you had about ten things keeping it in place. Then the fabric was finally pulled off your head.

The white fur with old blood and new blood splatter over it, he saw the flesh under the cuts, the dirt mixed with the blood on the fur. It was silent for a few minutes as he stared at the top of your head with a unreadable expression. He was surprised, what were you? He couldn’t believe his eyes, it was like saints all over again. But where you are.

But what were you? It was making his head spin, he had no knowledge about this.

In front of him, small and hurt. Adorable face and body, a cute nose he just noticed and beautiful ears- If they weren’t hurt. “Saints.” He cursed under his breath and you didn’t know if he was mad or what. Biting your lips a bit you took a deep breath and waited for him to say something else. But you knew the confusion he was facing and it would take him some time.

“What the fuck.”

You both looked back and see Jesper hanging on the doorframe with Nina by his side with her jaw dropped. You shifted in your seat and covered yourself up and didn’t care about the pain in your ears.

It wasn’t going to be a secret anymore.

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yokohamapound · 1 year

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Myshka - Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader

I can't believe this is my first Fyodor piece, but here we go... This is silly but the idea wouldn't leave my head for an April Fool's fic.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He’s nothing but a silhouette. A wall of screens rises up before him, glaring like suns in the dim room. Information flickers across them in a constant, incomprehensible screed. You couldn’t read them even if you wanted to.

He sits with his back to you, a ragged outline of darkness against the wall of brightness. A fur hat and fur-trimmed collar, only moving every now and then to look at this screen or that, his hands dancing across the keyboard like a concert pianist. You can’t see his face, but his hands are pale, long-fingered, moving almost with minds of their own, independent of each other.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

His voice is deeper than one would expect, from such a pretty face. Though he faces away from you now, you remember it well—sharp, delicate features, pale skin, shadowed violet eyes. The thought of being pinned under that stare again makes you shiver.

You don’t know who he is, or what he wants with you. Just that he swept into your life, plucked you off the street, and here you are.

Trapped, tense, waiting to discover your fate. Destiny hangs over you like the sword of Damocles.

So far, all he seems to do is work, tapping away at his keyboard and humming to himself. Others come and go—a man in a black cloak, a jester in white who likes to poke at you and gibber nonsense—but no one seems to have a use for you yet.

“Nothing to say, myshka?”

His voice floats over to you, taunting. He insists on speaking to you, even though you don’t—can’t—respond. What would you even say? If you opened your mouth, all that would come out is a frightened squeak.

It isn’t all bad. You’re given food and drink, somewhere to sleep. Whatever your purpose in this man’s grand design, it doesn’t seem one of suffering. He will keep you alive for as long as he needs you.

Your silence finally seems to get to him. He turns in his chair, the flickering screens painting his features with uncertain blue-white light.

Frozen, huddled, you watch him as he regards you in turn. A smile tugs at his mouth, an amused noise bubbling up from in his throat. Oh, you do seem to amuse him. Why is beyond you. Nothing you’ve done is remotely funny. Perhaps he simply enjoys your helplessness.

“Look at you,” he hums, rising to his feet. “Still so frightened of me?”

His footsteps seem to echo through the cavernous room as he approaches you, picking his way easily between the wires that trail everywhere like vines. He bends down to get a better look at you, his locks of dark hair shifting around his face as he tilts his head.

Long, pale fingers reach for you and you cringe backward. The man lets out a low sound, seeming almost…disappointed. But that cannot be right. You know he takes satisfaction in tormenting you. Otherwise, why would you be here?

“Do I not give you everything you need, myshka?” he asks. “Are you hungry? Is that it?”

Freedom! you want to scream. Release me from this cage—

Suddenly, a head of white hair pops around the door frame, long braid swinging. The jester wears a grin like a carnival mask, his eyes crinkled with sadistic amusement.

“Are you still trying to play with that pet mouse of yours?” he scoffs. “Just give it a morsel of cheese.”

Fyodor looks down at the cage housing the little mouse he plucked off the streets on a whim. Beady black eyes glare at him through the bars, tiny pink paws curled into miniature fists.

And here he thought the creature was warming up to him.

#yokohamapound #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Fyodor x Reader #check the date #April Fools #Joke fic

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flyingwargle · 9 months

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tw: beginnings of an anxiety attack midway through

the show was a disaster.

lynette thinks it’s because of sabotage. lyney thinks it’s because of him.

when he palmed the wrong card at the start of their act, he should’ve taken it as a sign that nothing else would go well. instead, his smile became wider, raised his voice louder, swept his arms in more and more elaborate gestures. the stage lights hid the audience’s faces, but he could still hear their whispers, their judgments, their disappoint. this is not what i paid for.

that’s why he refunded their tickets. it’s the least he could do.

he sends his sister home while he inspects their props. she already did it while he was talking with the ticket office, but he has to be sure that the fault lies with him. there’s no sign of tampering, and all equipment remains in its rightful positions, waiting for tricks that would never happen. they aren’t to blame – he is.

do you really call yourself a great magician?

the theater is empty. lyney sits cross-legged onstage, facing the shuttered overhead lights. it’s cold, amplified by the empty seats and corridors. he’s cloaked in darkness, with only the stars shining through the windows.

i should go back. the others will be worried.

are they, though? do they really want such a pathetic brother back?

he squeezes his eyes shut. he picks himself up, stumbles down the hallway to exit through the back door. security locked the front entrance hours ago. he couldn’t bring himself to leave among his dissatisfied patrons.

the court of fontaine is a different entity at night. whereas light makes water seem friendly, night makes it seem unforgiving. streetlamps illuminate his path, boots echoing around him. he walks with his back straight, head held high, as if walking home after a successful show, full of bravado. this is just an act, a mask to hide his turmoil, like the teardrop he paints on his cheek before every show.

he slows. the stars accompany the moon, yet no one accompanies him. he leans against the railing to peer down at the lower levels of the city. storefronts are darkened. stalls are covered with canvas. only the faintest light radiates behind closed curtains, followed by hushed voices and rustling blankets. soon, it feels like he’s the only one left awake.

that’s why only silence answers him when he curses. “dammit!”

people make mistakes. it’s natural. he doesn’t because he knows the consequences. all he’s ever known is that a single misstep can mean being thrown to the wolves, to be claimed by the darkness without a way back. as the oldest, he can’t afford wrong moves. it isn’t just him who suffers, but his brothers and sisters.

his hand sneaks up to his chest. it’s heavy. his heart is racing. his breaths are quick. stay calm…stay calm. i…have to go back. i can’t…let the others know–

“lyney?”

he jumps. when he raises his head, his vision is blurred. tears form in the corners of his eyes. why?

why did you have to find me like this?

lynette stands on his right, freminet on his left. their gestures are light across his arms as they guide him to sit down. “you were taking so long,” lynette whispers. “we were worried about you?”

what’s there to worry about? i’m fine.

“no, you aren’t. you’re always like this when a show goes badly.”

freminet nods. “it- it’s hard to keep it together all the time. you can be frustrated. we aren’t supposed to be perfect.”

i’m supposed to be. what good am i if i can’t even put on a magic show?

“it’s not just you.” a hand rests over his own to quell his trembles. “i’m onstage, too. fremmy designs our props. our brothers and sisters help make our stage costumes. you might be the one doing the sleight of hand, but we work together to make the show work.”

“a failure now means success later,” freminet adds. “we learn and we grow. that’s how it is.”

lyney draws in a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing to clear them of tears. lynette continues to hold his other hand. “it’s okay to cry.”

that’s all the permission he needs.

neither his sister nor brother speak, simply press against him as his tears flow down his cheeks. how unbecoming of him. he watched his sister cry after she was rescued from that terrible place; he watched his brother cry when he learned that his mother would never come back. he embraced them both, lent them his shoulder, murmured soothing words. it's okay. i'm here. i'll never leave you.

even if they don't do that for him, their presence is enough to reassure him that they mean the same sentiment.

#genshin impact #text #flyingwargle original #drabble #freminet #lyney #lynette #genshin drabble #fontaine siblings #tw: anxiety attack #tw: crying #inspired by lyney's taking damage line #i have a few other ideas about this too #maybe...for whumptober?

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lamemaster · 1 year

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Origins of Love (Thranduil x Reader)

Thranduil finds himself seated in an aloof corner of his library. A book chosen for the night and his wineglass next to him. Another day of his life as the King had come to an end.

Another day that he spent detesting the act of existence. Maybe...if he were better he would treasure life. He would look for his son who has been gone for months. But he is not the elf he once was. Weariness lays heavy on his shoulders.

Sighing he picks up the book only for a withered page to fall in his lap. Its edges folded yet, time had preserved it. Curious Thranduil flipped it open.

--------------------------------------------------

To the King of Greenwood the Great,

How does one come to love? I have always wondered about this question. Is it the strings of fate that pull two people or is the will of those people that bring them together in bond so special?

Reading books and listening to tales I thought maybe it was the beauty of thought and face that nurtured love. Some argued that it was the alignment of stars. While others contended that it was the matching of interests that led to it. Gods, fate, looks, personality. All seemed right but wrong at the same time.

I looked for love for so long. I knocked at all the doors others claimed to find it from. But all failed.

Even the open seas of Lindon promised the same confinement of my own mind and heart.

However, soon the answer came to me like a prancing doe in your thick forest. A haughty Sinda with the most curt replies to even the most pleasant greetings was the answer.

I found that it could lead to an attraction of virtues, faith, fate, or beauty but love stems from vices. It slithers in like a vicious snake and crouches in the heart. And despite the venom, the heart can't help but beat.

Love comes with the acceptance of a person despite their vices. And I have accepted you for all of yours. Your excessive drinking, your scathing remarks, and your prevalent tendencies to be obnoxious at the most unwarranted times.

These and other vices have failed to stop me from loving you. Such has been the case for ages. Instead, these vices fashion themselves into your infamous parties, your hilarious wit that I adore, your glorious cloaks that make me unable to look away from you.

Thranduil I am in love with you and your flaws. So much in love that I can't fathom any wrong in you.

Dragon burns or outward beauty matters little to me. I yearn for you and all of you not a figment of the past. I urge you to allow me to meet you and tell you how much I am in love with you in front of you while I hold your hand.

Let me be a part of your grief. Let me be a part of healing.

Waiting for You,

-------------------------------------------------

Thranduil's hands tremble as he barely holds on to the letter. Your letter from so long ago when he just became the King of Greenwood. After he had returned burned from the external flames of the dragon and continued burning ire the of his father's loss.

He had locked himself away from a world crueler than ever. He had done that uncaring of you. He isolated himself but in doing so he alienated you.

The letter had gone unread in his anguish. Buried in the pages of an unread book. He had kept you waiting for so long and you waited until life left you.

So, alone, the King of once Greenwood the Great, which is now Mirkwood, waits. He waits for a day he can meet you on the shores untouched by sorrow.

#tolkien #tolkien elves #elves #sindar #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x wife #angst #romance #letters #drabble #one shot

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serenescribe · 10 months

Text

had a really rough day. wanted to get out my feelings through writing. easier by the crane wives is a lilia song. enjoy c:

“I’ll be back soon, Silver,” Lilia whispers, kneeling down to press a kiss against his son’s forehead, one hand cupping his cheek. “Be good, alright? Remember your chores, and your—”

“And my exercises, I know,” Silver answers, smiling brightly at him. And oh, it makes Lilia’s chest ache so deeply, like a hand has grasped around his beating heart, fingers curling tighter and squeezing until his breath chokes in his throat.

Everything about the boy, the child he has taken in as his own, makes him feel so strongly — especially the silver strands of silken locks that frame his face, causing the aurora glint of his pupils to shine even brighter. It is a feeling that Lilia dubbed as a negative years ago, when he had picked up that wooden cradle in the woods and watched the baby tucked within it open its eyes — a reflection of a foe long since slaughtered, an enemy that makes Lilia’s blood boil with rippling rage.

But lately, he cannot help but feel as though the feeling, the emotion he keeps cradled within his heart, is shifting. When Silver was younger, Lilia had to leave the house over and over, taking a breather for himself as he quelled his roaring rage, the impetuous youthful general of his mind screaming for him to take the boy out. But now, when he ruffles the young boy’s hair, or opens his arms when he clings to him for a hug, all Lilia feels is a candlelight swell of something warmth — so small and delicate, as though a single breath can blow it out.

And so, with confusion misting his mind and emotions tangling into his chest, Lilia leaves, again and again.

He leaves, travels far and wide, under the guise of missions and quests, or, when he has no further excuse, for his own private purposes. Lilia steps away from the cottage he has slowly begun to consider a home, wraps his heart with powerful armour, tucks away those muddled feelings for later, preferably never. Lilia stays away long enough, feeling the wind against his face, smelling the salt of the seas, feeling the heat of the sun he’s never truly loved beating down on his skin.

And when his tasks are done, or when he cannot stay away any longer, he returns.

Each and every time he comes home, Silver greets him with a smile, arms outstretched for a hug. “I missed you, Papa,” he says so shyly as Lilia lifts him up, mirth trickling into each new reunion, casting the memories in sunny hues. “I’m happy you’re home.”

And what is Lilia to do, then, when his heart seizes at those words? The armour breaks apart, a burst of something strong and hot sweeping through him; he coos in response, praises how good Silver has been, taking care of the house, looking after himself, my, what a mature child he is! But Lilia has never returned the words that Silver always whispers to him whenever he gets sleepy and Lilia tucks him into bed; he turns his head to the side, light locks of hair splayed out over his scratchy pillow, lips parting to murmur, “I love you, Papa.”

Everytime he hears those words—

(And it is never only during their reunions, for Silver always tells him that, brimming with such love that it makes some younger part of him freeze up, locking in place, bile rising through his throat.)

—Lilia has to leave again.

Silver is seven now. He has grown so much in such a short time — thus is the fragility of humankind, Lilia muses to himself. He used to think of it as a blessing when Silver was but a baby, for it would cut short the number of years they had to spend together. But now?

Lilia isn’t sure what to think now.

(Or perhaps it is more like he refuses to admit the truth to himself.)

He swallows down the lump in his throat, sucking in a deep breath. “I trust you to take care of yourself, dear,” he says as brightly as he can manage, fingers pulling away as he reaches for the swinging clasp of his travelling cloak. Lilia adjusts it, ensuring the hood can cover his face — the sunlight has always been a blasted enemy of his, after all — but as he turns to leave…

A tug.

He pauses. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, Lilia’s eyes meet auroral pupils, wide eyes that gaze up at him as though he hung the stars.

“I love you, Papa,” Silver reminds him, shining so splendidly that it hurts. “Take care, okay?”

His ribs press in against his lungs, digging in tight, each breath shallow and raw.

“I will,” Lilia promises, voice shaky, forcing a smile that does not fit onto his face. “Thank you, Silver.”

And when he leaves again, walks the familiar path away from their home — and when has he begun to truly think of it that way? Lilia does not remember — Lilia’s steps grow faster and faster, breath catching in his throat until he’s running, practically flying, getting away as quickly as he can.

(For what reason does he run?

Is it because he cannot stand the sight of Silver, the boy who resembles the Dawn Knight to such an eerie extent?

Or is it because he’s unable to comprehend the possibility that he is getting attached?)

It is better to leave, again and again.

Until he can wrangle his feelings, until he can pick apart every flicker of doting warmth and every icy shard of contempt, until he can decide for himself that yes, he will leave or no, he will stay, permanently, irreversibly—

Lilia will wander the earth and hide the love that he feels, pushing it away until it becomes bearable enough for him to go home.

#my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #twst writing #twst fanfiction #requests and writing might slow down soon because of uni starting...#but thank you all for enjoying my writing so far. i really appreciate it #i had a rough day but it still makes me happy looking at the notifs for this blog #also the spoiler tags are literally for a passing mention of the dk... i'm being cautious ok #personal writing

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