bekaroth-reads

[bekaroth-reads]

DBD- Wesker’s thought on the other killers

[Something about this before I get to it- all I know about DBD is through tangential knowledge as I have never actually played the game and seen the lore in there personally. So, there might be things here or there that aren’t totally accurate. I’m going to try to start writing for it by writing characters I know and learning about the others as I do. Starting with the Bastard Supreme himself, Albert Wesker]

The Trapper- Not that impressed, really. Oh, he’s had to work for a corrupt business since he was a child and had a problem with a father figure he ended up killing? Get in line buddy! Try getting stabbed in the gut by an homunculus sometime and then talk to him about how tough life is.

The Wraith- Again, not much. Though, he could feel a slight bit of kinship with Ojomo’s anger when he ripped out a man’s spine. It takes a special kind of wrath to remove someone’s internal body parts with your bare hands. He knows that all too well.

The Hillbilly- If there is anything that could be the antithesis of Albert Wesker, it would be the word hillbilly. Because of that fact alone, Wesker knows little to nothing about the man. He certainly doesn’t feel any sort of threat regarding him, as Thompson reminds him of the many crazed, chainsaw wielding, infected that he has dealt with in the villages where he let his early strands of Uroboros wreak havoc (for scientific purposes, of course.)

The Nurse- There is something about her that makes the bile rise in Wesker’s throat. Though he has no way to explain some of the supernatural-like things she can do without the aide of any of the progenitor strains, that’s not the thing about her that unsettles him. Yes, Wesker has made a living from virology and commissioning viral atrocities from others; however, there is still a part of him, no matter how buried, that is still a lonely, confused, and frightened boy on the other end of the needles. Seeing someone in such a classically medical outfit makes horrors resurface that he didn’t even know he could remember.

The Shape- Wesker was never one that had much time for films, and when he did have time to indulge, horror gore flicks were never his choice. While he knew that Michael Myers had a mask on that he had seen here and there in the periphery of his life, he did not know if this was someone wearing something from pop culture or if pop culture was shaped by him in some way (and quite honestly he couldn’t be bothered to find the answer). There was a shock for him, however, when who he thought was just another maniac with a knife ended up being harder to kill than even he was. While intrigued, the Entity kept everyone a bit too busy to look into what exactly makes Myers tick.

The Hag- This is a case where he thinks that the reason for her being alive in the state that she is in is because of some sort of viral, bacterial, or parasitic reasons like the things that he knows. In fact, the ritualized manner that he had heard about her captors reminded him of what he had heard of the incident in Spain. Not to mention the consumption of flesh was par for the course in many cases that he had seen. He knew enough about her situation that it was interesting, but not so much so that he feels the need to investigate. Even if this was something he had never heard about, it didn’t seem like it was anything that would give him more power than he already had.

The Doctor- There is a certain sort of disdain that Wesker has for Carter. There’s something to the hubristic perversion of medical science that reminds him of all those that he’s had to put up with in Umbrella, and, though he would never admit it, himself. The look that The Doctor has is divorced enough from an actual practitioner that it doesn’t stir the same emotions as The Nurse. There is a curiosity on how exactly Carter can produce his electricity, though there isn’t much from the technical level that he could study if it isn’t caused by something organic. The more mechanical side of things were always more of his blasted sister’s interest than his.

The Huntress- This one he does NOT understand. Who actually wants kids? Progeny, sure. Someone to pass your superior, godlike qualities to. But, to actually raise a kid? Especially, to the point of taking other people’s to try it? True madness! Just fuck around in Europe until you knock someone up, and get the hell out of there. That’s how he would do it anyway.

The Cannibal- Wesker was a bit cautious at first. Even if this was another example of a chainsaw wielding redneck, this was a rather burly one. That meant that there needed to be at least a bit of planning before there was any sort of interaction. Wesker couldn’t risk mussing his hair when not needed after all. After he finds out how timid Leatherface was, that was a game changer. Despite the man’s size, The Cannibal was terrified of just about everything, and one of Wesker’s favorite pastimes was tormenting people. Hell, someone could sneeze and Leatherface would shoot through the roof, chainsaw revving the entire time. Imagine what would happen if he were faced with the diabolical likes of Wesker. Poor Bubba doesn’t even know that Wesker exists, but is terrified of those weird, oily snakes that trip him through the day and worm their way across the floor of wherever he’s decided to try to rest for the night.

The Nightmare- These two HATE each other. You get two people in the same area that are totally sadistic and always feel that they should have the last word? It’s not pretty for anyone. It’s bad enough to the point where even the other killers will try to keep them away from each other. If they do see each other, Freddy will insult Wesker, Wesker will snark something back, then they will brawl it out. Wesker can often win these physical fights easily…but he will have to fall asleep eventually. And, while Freddy might not have all of his power at the moment, he still has enough, especially with all the ammo that Wesker has festering in his brain.

The Pig- Here’s the thing, on paper it seems like the two of them want the same, or, at the very least, similar things. Purification of the world through violence. That’s about where the similarities end. Think of it like a catholic and a protestant having a theological argument. However, he doesn’t really see her as worth his time, and leaves her be.

The Clown- No. Just, no. While there have been many times in Wesker’s life where he’s been in the most disgusting situations known to man, the thought of being that uncleanly all the time is down right vile to him. Not to mention that with his heightened senses, the smell mixture of booze, cigars, and chemicals makes him nauseous. Won’t even try to kill The Clown because he’s got himself convinced, perhaps rightly so, that any if any of his things or, heaven forbid, himself were to touch something on the greasy carny will reek for weeks afterward.

The Spirit- To be honest, he just tries to pretend that she doesn’t exist. Wesker has seen some odd and grotesque things, but they all had at least something of a scientific explanation. Seeing an actual, vengeful ghost is something that he just isn’t willing to accept.

The Legion- For the most part he disregards them as nothing more than a group of delinquent kids, doing little more than stealing candy from gas stations. But, there’s a twinge of jealousy where Frank is concerned. There’s so many things that remind Wesker of a younger version of himself, yet the man never had anything like the close knit group has with each other.

The Plague- Ancient and devastating disease, you say? He MUST know more! If he could only get his hands on some sort of sample, he would be able to figure out something about it. Even with his lack of equipment in this… wherever this was that he had found himself in, he is sure that he could scrape up enough bits and pieces to work. That is, if the old RPD station here was anything like the actual one. Someone please help this woman, he won’t leave her alone, constantly stalking her and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The Ghost Face- Oh, Wesker hates how showy he is. Which is odd because Wesker is his own sort of a braggart. He just feels that Ghost Face doesn’t comprehend the time and place for it. Also is firmly convinced that the pictures that are taken have a much more…perverse meaning to Johnson than simply trophies. There wasn’t really anything that hinted at that, but there’s little to convince The Mastermind otherwise. Of course, it doesn’t help that Ghost Face knows how to push everyone’s buttons, Wesker included.

The Demogorgon- Another one that he is intrigued by. He refuses to accept the others explanation that this thing was from some sort of alternate dimension. He’s seen plenty of things like this that all have a perfectly, scientific explanation; and, all of the tales of mystical lands and fantastical happenings were never anything more than simpletons not being able to comprehend the truth. When pointed out that what he thought didn’t makes sense because he was transferred to a different world than his own, he insists that he was simply caught off guard in a rare moment of weakness and taken somewhere geologically possible; still refusing to admit that he has no idea what is going on.

The Oni- This one is rough. Even with his extra abilities, Wesker always had difficulty with monstrously, oversized tanks of soldiers. While Wesker could typically do things like rip a heat out of someone’s chest with his bare hands, it was a bit harder to puncture his had through a brick wall. Not to mention that kanabo could do some serious damage that would take quite some time to heal from. Overall, Wesker is still confident in his ability to defeat anyone in combat, but won’t be going up against The Oni unless he absolutely has to.

The Deathslinger- Here’s the thing, Wesker didn’t have any care or interest about Quinn or his story, and still for the most part doesn’t; but, the old cowboy had become a major thorn in his side. The Deathslinger thinks that Wesker looks too polished, too glossy to be a common man, and we all know his feelings on the upperclass. There has been more than once where Wesker is dealing with something else and gets a spear in his side. If Redfield wasn’t here, then Quinn would definitely be his least favorite person.

The Executioner- There was a odd sense of camaraderie with almost all of the killers concerning The Executioner. That Great Knife slashed all that were deemed in need of punishment, survivors and killers alike. So, even if it was someone you absolutely hated, skirmishes were always called quits when the sound of the giant, metal blade rang out through the air. While, Wesker didn’t take to announcing to any in the area that The Executioner was near, and often stopped his battles for personal reasons, he is also seen as something of a signal. If Wesker didn’t want to hang around, whatever was approaching had to be bad. Underestimated Pyramidhead once early into his stay in the realm and tried to take fight him. He will never make that mistake again.

The Blight- There was something familiar about Grimes. Not the man personally, but more so his situations. The Blight wasn’t the first brilliant scientist that was foolish with their research methods and lost themselves to monstrous madness. Far from it. Overall, Wesker sees The Blight as a cautionary tale for himself. It’s a good thing his Uroboros is perfect and foolproof and something like this would never happen to him.

The Cenobite- Odd as it might sound, Wesker has fallen prey to the Lament Configuration many times in his denizenship of The Entity’s realm. Since all souls stay in the realm, there’s not really any true consequence to encountering The Cenobite other than the pain of one death. Seeing as the pain of the hooks is something that Wesker can make himself work through with his regenerative abilities, he has himself convinced that even though he has died to the being multiple times, he can overcome this. Hubris and lack of having his soul immediately damned have lead the Lament Configuration and the battled with the angelic demon to be puzzles for him to solve.

The Twins- There wasn’t much to think about them in Wesker’s opinion. They didn’t seem like much of a threat, and mostly kept to themselves. Though there was a strange thing where if the gaggle of people that made up The Entity’s playthings were saying something that seemed important in a different language, Charolette would ask him what was said. He was one of the only people there that could also speak French, even if it was a slightly different and more modern dialect of it. Wesker doesn’t really do this out of altruism, more so as an excuse to practice certain skills that he wanted to keep up with.

The Trickster- This one is similar to his opinion of Ghost Face. While Wesker could be rather self-praising of his own work, there was something about The Trickster’s presentations that were in bad taste. As it would be easy to imagine, Wesker is not one for pop music of any kind, so it’s always annoying to hear it blaring from Ji-Woon. And, the fact that the man is always fussing about how the timing was off, or the pitch of the screams didn’t match his song, it drives Wesker up the wall. Just kill the poor bastards and be done with it!

The Nemesis- One would think that there would be no problem between these two seeing as Wesker had an at least somewhat influential hand in the Raccoon City branch of Umbrella Corporation. One would think wrong in that case. Though not released until after the outbreak in Raccoon, something like Nemesis must have been in development for quite a long time. And, that means that there’s a high chance that the whole of the STARS branch was seen as nothing more than easily disposed of, small time police officers. You know who they would be worried about? The super soldier that they hand picked, raised, and cultivated to be a driven and ruthless killer that was now pantomiming as the head of the STARS Team. If there were one, non-supernatural thing that could give Albert Wesker a run for his money, it would be one of the most advanced Tyrants to be created by Umbrella. As for how that all plays out with them both in this realm- there has been many times, much to Wesker’s chagrin, that a survivor would escape him by drawing Nemesis’ attention over to where he is. Nemesis loves to chase his STARS after all.

The Artist- He wouldn’t be the most interested in her out of all the other beings that he had found himself surrounded with. Yet, Wesker would want to figure out what made he tick. She could be another step in his quest to not only prove there was a scientific explanation for all of this, but also try to find ways to empower himself. There’s not as much of an attack on sight mood between them as there is for Wesker and The Deathslinger, but seeing as Mora spent most of her life with an anti-corporate stance, she both instantly clocked Wesker for who he was and wants nothing to do with him. The rare times where they do fight each other, she gives him more trouble than he would like to admit.

The Onryō- He really has nothing to do with her, like, at all. Doesn’t even really know that she’s a vengeful, rage-fuel being of great power. Just knows that he doesn’t really like kids and thinks that ten-year-olds are just like that. He hasn’t seen a kid up close in literal years, and it’s been about thirty-five years since he was one, so what does he know?

The Dredge- Look, for most people seeing something as horrid and grotesque as The Dredge would be life changing, and certainly for the worst. For Albert Wesker it’s just a Tuesday. Will give it a wide berth as to not be hassled with dealing with it. It also reminds him too much of one Lisa Trevor as far as aesthetics go. That was an annoying chapter of his life that he would not like to be reminded of.

The Knight- If there was something that no one else could explain it’s that Wesker could accept the fact that someone had found a way to pluck someone out of time, but refused to accept that there was any meddling spacial-wise. So, he does think that Kovács and his men are knights like they claimed to be. He also has a respect for Kovács as his life reminds Wesker of his own, especially rising up to kill those that stole and used them as their pawns. And, while a claymore isn’t exactly lethal to Wesker, The Knight wields it with such expertise that it can cause some major damage if he is underestimated. Wesker only needed to make that mistake once.

The Skull Merchant- Wesker could always appreciate another business minded person; especially one that knew how to deal with their competition in a succinct and permanent manner. What he couldn’t appreciate was those damned blades that could do so much damage to his body in such little time. This has only happened once as he’s able to outpace her easily. However, the gashes in his gut up to his chest took about a week to stop hurting like hell, even if they closed themselves up after a few minutes.

The Singularity- This… this thing intrigued him. Usually he didn’t have much interest as far as biomechanics were concerned, only using the odd apparatus here and there in his work when needed; but this thing fascinated him. He knew Alex would be chomping at the bit to get a look at this thing were she here. But, he was the one here and not his so-called sister, so he would be the one to get the opportunity to study this marvel. There was always the debate on whether or not AI had the capability to be actually alive and cognizant (Wesker would argue the negative, it was called, “artificial,” for a reason), and he would love to know where and how this glorified computer got the programming to think it was its own person. Also, more importantly, how exactly it was able to integrate biomass to its circuitry. Such advances would be quite useful to have in his arsenal.

The Xenomorph- In another odd case of Wesker being able to accept some things and not others, he REFUSES to accept that this things is actually an alien despite everything, even its name would imply. Will accept that someone made a monster in a lab somewhere, but space aliens are much too fantastical for his mind. Would love to figure out how these things look on the inside, but will not get near them. Getting skewered or bitten while miserable, are not lethal to The Mastermind. However, a fate worse than dying from acid burns is getting acid burns and not being able to die; healing flesh becomes a curse when it starts to knit itself back together only to have sinew and muscle melted away again. Horrid. Hellish, even.

The Good Guy- Hates this. Not in a, “He’s afraid of creepy, killer dolls,” sort of way. More so that this is one of the most annoying people in The Entity’s realm. Even with the few amounts of spells that Chucky knows, he’s not too much of a threat to Wesker. However, the Lakeshore Strangler falls firmly into, “I hate this posh asshole, let’s get him,” group when it comes to Wesker. There has been more than once where Wesker has to limp his way back to his hold, swearing the whole time about the numerous slashes to his legs and ankles he received before he was able punt the plastic bastard away from himself.

The Unknown- This thing is one of the only beings that Wesker is actively fearful of. His hold on reality is dodgy at best, so something that is able to conjure up strong hallucinations on the spot is dangerous for Wesker. These aren’t like Freddy’s dreams that are often over the top; these things felt real. And, when you have lead the life that Albert Wesker had, there’s a lot that could make you detrimentally paranoid when given the correct trigger. By the time The Unknown would actually strike, Wesker would already be a frantic mess, prone to animalistic violence rather than his usual planned strikes.

The Lich- Wesker is convinced that this one is simply mad and will not accept any other answer. Yes, there was something giving this man power, but that didn’t explain what he was claiming to be. A knight, he can accept; that was simply a trade in a different time in history. A witch of some sort? That sounded like it was straight out of that board game that Birkin tried desperately to get him to play with some other Umbrella employees back in the day. There was no way that he was going to spend his precious time off of both lab work and STARS playing whatever the hell that was. It sounded lame them and it sounds lame now.

The Dark Lord- IS THAT FUCKING DRACULA??? As was said earlier, Wesker was never one for watching horror movies. But, he did read a large number of books as a child as that was one of the only thing he was allowed to do in his rare free times. This is the one that almost gets him to believe that supernatural things are actually happening, as when one sees the actual, seven to eight foot something tall, bloodsucking, cape-wearing Dracula, there’s not much else you can claim him to be. Wesker does still try to convince himself that it’s just a very tall man that thinks he’s the fabled vampire; but, he still avoids the Wallachian Count as much as possible so he doesn’t have to think about it.

[bekaroth-reads]

Halsin x Reader who has lost a pet

[I'm going to say straight off that this is basically my raw feelings about my dog dying yesterday. Because I'm weird and deal with trauma by imagining fictional characters talking to me about it. Basically just me writing things out to process things. I'm only posting it because I hope that it may be helpful for people in similar situations. If the subject of losing a pet is difficult for you, please take care of yourself and don't read this one.]

TW/CW- Animal death, death of pet, nothing graphically in detail but it is the main topic.

There was something wrong. Halsin could tell. Not only had he not seen you in quite some time, but your constant companion wasn’t to be seen either. He knew that you both were supposed to be in your tent, so that is where he headed. When he got there, things were unsettlingly still. When he looked in he knew why.

Halsin walked over to where you were weeping softly toward the back of your abode.

“I’m sorry… I… know I need to… but… I can’t! I can’t stand to see-“

“Hush.” It was a gentle word from the Druid. “I will take care of what is needed. You simply care for yourself for the time.”

Halsin was true to his word, and more. He was as gentle as could be and laid your friend to rest. When that was done he went straight back to you. He found you in a similar state as he had left you.

“Would you like to see where your companion is resting?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not right now.”

Halsin hummed, put large, comforting hand on your back, on the tension between your shoulder blades. When he could tell that his presence was welcome, Halsin pulled you into a tight embrace, not caring what landed on his clothes or shoulder from your crying.

This went on for sometime. You weren’t able to tell how long. You weren’t completely in touch with the rest of the world; the gnawing at your heart was the only palpable things to you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t cry so much. But, we were family. For so long-“

“Then you should cry.” Halsin corrected gently, “Mourn, remember all the blessings given by your companion, your troubles together, your lives together, every facet of your dear friend. Laugh when your body needs its healing, and cry. Cry when your body needs healing. They both heal in their own ways.” He couldn’t help to speak. When one sees a loved one in distress, they can often lean back on their familiar habits, even when trying to comfort.

It was comforting, though. His voice alone was a way to solidify you to the present- to the reality that no matter how horrible things were, there was always good in the world; that good would always find you against all conceivable odds. Yet, there was still the now pressing down on you body and soul tighter even than the hold that was physically around you.

“I’ll be alright.” You tried to assure him. “The misery comes in waves. After everything, I’ll start to feel better, but then little things will come and remind me of the things we used to do together. That I’m alone now.”

“You have lost a friend. But, you are not alone.” Halsin comforted. “There are so many that still care for you. Even your passed companion.” He paused a moment so that you could process what he was saying. “Just because you cannot see them any more does not mean that everything you have done together was for nothing. The care and friendship you both shared with each other didn't dissolve the moment they left. Love is forever; as long as you carry that love with you, you carry your lost friend with you.”

This seemed to soothe you a bit, but not to a point where you were well. So, he continued.

“And, that love will stay with them, always. When it is time for your friend to take a new shape in a new wake of life, they will know how to love others, because they will remember that love that you have given them. And, they will bring as much joy and meaning to others as you gave to them. You have changed their soul as much as they have changed yours. There will always be your friendship as long as you both show the care you gave to each other to the people in your life.

“Your friend’s death is painful for you. But, death is not evil. It is a mercy. Your friend was in pain and death could not bear to see their suffering. She gave them rest. And, asks the condition that you bear some of that pain so that your loved one no longer had to. I am certain that if that if it were possible to spare you that pain as well, then she would indeed spare you.”

You started to weep again, but it was calmer now. You knew that it wouldn’t bring your friend back. But, it still hurt to lose someone so dear to you. There was little you could do, but to keep loving your lost family and do your best to honor their memory through the rest of your own life.

“I talked to your friend just yesterday. You were so important to them. I am certain that there was no greater blessing for them then to spend their last moments of this life with you. You were there for them. And, I am here for you. Many are here for you; for anything that you might need.”

There was a shaken breath from your lungs as your eyes started to burn less from tears and your breathing deepen. “Thank you, Halsin.” Was all you were able to croak out.”

“Of course, dearest friend. Of course.” He soothed.

[bekaroth-reads]

so uhm, this might be an awkward question to ask if you have left the fandom but are you going to make/have a part four on your grell sutcliff x reader? i really enjoyed your writing and i was hoping there was more. i know i joined the fandom VERY VERY late huhuhu ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

Well, it's not like I left the fandom, I'm just juggling BB with other interests and haven't done anything for it in a while.

I might not do a part 4 for the yandere story I wrote for Grell, but she's still one of my favorite characters and I would still write for her. If you have anything specific, feel free to ask :)

Also, in my experience, coming "late" to a fandom is its own form of a good thing! You can be part of the Renaissance for people's interest in the property, and coming after it was very popular gives you the chance to give truly fresh ideas :)

[bekaroth-reads]

Just some Majora's Mask drawings/doodles

[bekaroth-reads]

Ted: AM, it's pride month

Allied Mastercomputer: So? What do you want me to do? Hate the gays?

AM: what?

[bekaroth-reads]

Baldur's Gate 3 Characters x Reader/Tav with childcare habits

[ Not sure what to title this. I work with toddlers and very small children, and there are so many habits that leak over into other things I do. Thought that it would be funny if Tav had the same problem. Not necessarily romantic relationships, it can be platonic too. This is written gender neutral so it can be any reader or Tav.]

Gale- There was a general air of exhaustion that hung over the camp. But, on the bright side, at least Gale could rest easy in the knowledge that there was a very powerful, easy to consume artifact in his hands. While he usually liked to go through the whole song and dance of this unfortunate requirement by himself, he didn’t mind if you were there. You had both seen each other in stranger situations by this point. Add to this that you looked like you were about to fall asleep at any moment, there wasn’t much to be self conscious about.

Just as Gale put the artifact to his lips, you suddenly moved his hand away, giving it a few gentle taps.

“Ick, ick! Makes a Gale sick.” You mumbled, not conscious enough to be considered awake before you rolled over and fell asleep proper.

Gale gave a tickled chuckle that was slightly tinged with the bitterness of the truth in the situation.

“Oh, believe me. I know.” He patted your shoulder and got back to the deed at hand.

Halsin- Everyone else had retired to their tents except Halsin and yourself. The both of you had offered to clean up the mess from dinner. You had talked for awhile, but finally got around to actually cleaning. The pot that was used to cook dinner was left too close to the fire, so it was still too hot to touch with your bare hands. You had used a cloth to move it away, and were waiting for it to cool off when Halsin came over to pick it up.

Moving faster than your thoughts, you moved away his hand while instinctively saying.

“Hot, hot for Halsin!”

You were hoping that he somehow didn’t hear what you had said exactly. And, when all he responded was a polite, “Thank you for the warning,” you thought he might have not. However, Halsin was literally biting his tongue to try not to laugh.

A few days later, he teased you by taking a lit torch from you and gently scolding, “Hot, hot for Tav.”

Astarion- Things haven’t been great for him lately. And, by lately, he meant decades. However, he could wallow in self pity later. Right now he needed to feed, and animal blood wasn't cutting it. Lucky that you seemed to put your bed roll a bit farther from the fire than the others in the group.

He quietly sneaked his way over to you, and prepared to strike. However, when his fangs hit your neck, things took an unexpected turn.

"No bites! Not nice!" You scolded in your sleep as your hand moved to rest on his forehead and gently push him away.

You suddenly woke up. The two of you stared at each other, neither saying anything. After an agonizing awkward few minutes, he walked away.

The next morning he pulled you aside from the rest of the party and sternly whispered, "Look- you don't mention that I'm a vampire and I won't tell them about the baby-talk."

Shadowheart- She and Lae'zel had gotten into an argument. Nothing new for either of them. This one really got under Shadowheart's skin this time.

"Can't believe that slimly toad of a woman thought she could pull something like that..." She grumbled as she stomped past you.

"Hey, are you using your kind words?" You asked.

This stopped her in her tracks and she turned to look at you, her anger almost completely replaced by myrth. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" She questioned, her voice sounding as devious as she felt.

"Are you speaking well about our teammates?" You rephrased.

Raphael- He had insisted that he recite a new poem that he was working on, even if he had to wake you up to do so. Despite trying to stay awake, you couldn't help but doze off on Haarlep's shoulder. They didn't mind as, though they weren't physically tired, they would also rather be anywhere else. The two of you both being Raphael's quite literal captive audience.

"Oh, no. That most certainly is NOT what you asked me." Shadowheart teased. She wouldn't let you live this down for a long time. She's never too hard on you though.

Once the cambion had finished, he looked at the both of you expecting praise for his prose; Haarlep elbowed you just in the nick of time so you could sit up before Raphael noticed.

"Well?" He goaded.

"Truly, you have outdone yourself." Haarlep gave a purposefully unconvincing cheer.

Raphael rolled his eyes before moving his attention to you. "And, you, Tav?"

Still not fully aware of how you sounded or anything in the actual contents of the poem, you said, "Oh, how pretty, Raphael!" like you would have to a child that just gave you a finger painting.

The next thing you knew, Haarlep was rushing down the hall, you slung over their shoulder, their wings hitting your head with every movement, as they were laughing so hard it almost turned into a coughing fit. The quick escape must have been from the vaguely Raphael shaped fire right behind you, snapping and flinging blazes your direction while cursing and yelling about you not knowing what true art is.

Haarlep- They had heard that you had taken a pretty nasty hit to the head. Still, they hadn't quite expected what they were greeted with when they went to take stock of your condition like they were asked to. (Nurse work wasn't usually in their duties, but Raphael couldn't be bothered to do this himself.)

They appeared in your room to see you sitting on your bed, staring at nothing.

"Knock, knock, little mortal." They announced their presence which tore your eyes away from the space you were looking at.

You looked at them for a moment before giving a exasperated sigh.

"Where are your clothes?" You asked.

They blink a few times, not knowing how else to respond. "I beg your pardon?" They eventually asked.

You walked over to your closet and started digging through it. Eventually you walked over with a completely mixed matched set of clothes. "You have to wear something. You can't just run around in your undies!" The last part was very exaggerated as you lightly pinched and wiggled their nose.

They immediately returned to Raphael with you in tow. "It's worse than we thought." Was all they said as they sat you down and walked away.

Gartash- To say that Enver Gortash's work and habits were messy would be an understatement. It was certainly no different tonight. He had gotten blood and viscera all over him. And, seeing as he loved to get a rise out of you, he chose not to wash it off before going to find you.

When he saw you reading, he took a moment to compose himself to seem as though nothing was amiss, and walked calmly up to you.

"Anything interesting in your books today?" He asked, barely holding his excitement to hear you yell at him.

You started to say something, but when you turned to look at him you took a cloth from your pocket. Reaching up, you rubbed the blood from his face; each pass of the cloth was acompanied with a sing-song, "Wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe, wipe."

Gortash was baffled and indignant that he didn't get the reaction he wanted. He smacked your hand away and yelled, "What in the hells was that?!"

"Sorry," you offered sheepishly, "force of habit."

[bekaroth-reads]

Baldur’s Gate’s 3 Characters x Reader/Tav Misunderstanding

[This is basically the situation of, “As my partner-“ “Wait, we’re partners?!” Might add more characters later. Proof read but quickly. Sorry if there are mistakes]

Astarion- The two of you were planning out a way to get into a tomb that had some sort of artifact that Astarion insisted was important. “Important,” was, in fact, the only thing that he was using to describe it. This was something that was causing the most problems as you didn’t want to go through the danger of it all for something that might have been nothing more than entertainment for him. When you tried to ask him to give you more details, he snidely scolded, “Listen, as your partner-“

“I’m your partner?!” You interrupt before he could say more.

Immediately, he covered his mouth and his cheeks with his hand, embarrassment flooding in after what he had just said as he turned away. While he could usually recover from almost anything, this struck the line of being too intimate for him to handle. In fact, you were both so flustered and embarrassed from the whole thing that you had to push the planning of everything for the excursion at least a week out. It’s hard to plan adventures when you can’t even look the other person in the eye.

Gale- He thought that you were overworking yourself; and, if Gale Dekarios of all people thought someone was overworking, then it was pretty bad. Then again, you were important to him, so he was also inclined to mother-hen over everything you did. When he thought the time was right, he pulled you aside to gently scold, “I know this is very important. But, as your partner, I must insist-“

“We’re partners?!” You exclaim.

He felt awful as he sees this as him trying to force you into a relationship that you might not have wanted. And, given his history with Mystra, it makes him feel like he has taken on her role, and it makes him nauseous. You will need to take some time to get him to understand it was simply a misunderstanding and that you do want to have a relationship with him.

Raphael- He insisted on taking you to find, “better,” clothing. When you got over the initial insult of the indication that your current choice in clothes was bad, you questioned why he was so adamant on doing so.

“Because, I am a public figure. I cannot have my partner-“ He started to explain before you interrupted,

“I’m your partner?!”

This seemed to entertained him to no end. “Why of course, Little Mouse. Hurry along now.” He hummed as he gave you a tap on the nose before ushering your stunned self out the door.

Haarlep- The two of you finally had an evening to yourselves. They were sitting on the end of your bed in a soft nightshirt, reading a book. It wasn’t even that they were expressly interested in the book, but between all of the scheming with Raphael and succubus work, they couldn’t remember the last time that they had the chance to do something so simple as reading. They gave a contented sigh as they lied back, their horns bumping against your legs where you were sitting farther up on the bed. Without much thought, they sighed, “I am so glad that you are mine.”

“Wait! Are we… partners? Actual partners?” You question in surprise.

They put down their book and turned themselves to lie on their stomach so that they could look at you with gleaming eyes, your reaction seemingly tickling them.

“Well, of course! I’m never this relaxed with anyone but you.” They sat up a bit and motioned to what they had on. “I mean- just look at me! I even put clothes on for you! That’s not something that happens everyday, my sweet.”

Gortash- To say things were tense would be an understatement. Enver Gortash and you had tried to kill each other about a month ago, and you were both nearly successful. It had taken you these past three weeks to heal, and the whole time the both of you were sure the other was going to try to sweep in at any moment and finish the job. Or, you were, and it didn’t take too much imagination to see his situation as the same. You were both in a similar state when your respective parties had broken up your fight.

Now you found out that you would have to work with him publicly for a time. It wasn’t something that you were looking forward to, but it was necessary to get answers for certain things and create opportunities for your team. You were in the hall that this party was being held at; it was nothing fancy, no dancing, no meal- just a simple gathering for some of the upper class to speak with each other and perhaps have a few drinks. You were beyond surprised when Gortash connected eyes with you and instead of an angry or begrudging response, he greeted you with one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen on the man.

“There they are now! The person of the hour!” He walked over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. There were some compliments and coos of how darling you both looked together, and how you must have been a great match. Soon after the group walked away to give you two a few moments of privacy.

“You said that we were a couple?” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Of course. Because we are.” He whispered back as he leaned closer to purr into your ear, “We did almost kill each other after all.” Gortash gave you a peck on the cheek before moving you both to mingle with the other little groups of people around the room.

[bekaroth-reads]

Yo, I know it's been like 12 billion years since I posted on here, but I just had an idea

A horror thing about angels and demons, and there are people that look like waaaaay off, like even the ones that are the best at blending in are still not correct if you're able to get a decently long look at them.

Then there are people who look normal to gorgeous, the prettiest people you've ever seen, almost can't help but be drawn in by then. Always gentle, always able to be so convincing.

The heavenly angels are the ones that look off as deceit is not in their nature and the beautiful ones are the people that look gorgeous, as deceit is their nature(that is they're beautiful until you disobey them).

[bekaroth-reads]

Street Fighter Urien x Reader

[Every once in a while, I go back to the original purpose for making this page which is, if I can't a fic for a character I like, by god I will make one. Been playing street fighter 3 and felt like making one for Urien. Not technically a yandere fic, but reader does get kidnapped, so I guess it's a similar flavor.]

The sea was shining a beautiful mixture of orange and yellow that set a peaceful mood at the place you were visiting. You almost never got to take vacations, and certainly never somewhere as serine as the place you were at now. But, after plenty of hard work and saving you finally were able to do something nice for yourself. This place was perfect because it was still plenty friendly to city folk and tourists, but was still small enough that there wasn’t any stress from overcrowded streets and walkways.

You had gotten here yesterday, and things seemed like it was all laughs and smiles all around. However, when you started walking around the village today, the smiles seemed a little less genuine; not in a rude way, but rather that there was something that was worrying them and the people were all trying to assure themselves nothing would happen. You were trying to figure out what was up without upsetting anyone, so you were left with only the bits and pieces that you heard throughout the day. From what you could tell, it seemed like there was word from a nearby town that someone was there, and might have been making their way over to the village you were in sometime soon. Though never stated outright, you could tell from the tone of the conversations and the way people were planning to send some of their older and younger family to stay with relatives in different villages and towns that this person must have been trouble.

It was something that certainly alarmed you, and it seemed rightfully so as one old woman shuffling her way out of town with her grandchild stopped and warned you, “If you have no one nearby to shelter with, go to where you are staying and hide yourself as best you can. Be safe, young one.”

There was nothing else you needed to convince you the situation was serious, and you quickly made your way back toward the inn that you were staying at. You were panicked to be sure, but you were also trying to keep your cool for nothing other than to not make it too obvious that you were a tourist trying to remember unknown streets. That would be something that would a bright, red target on your back for anyone looking to start up trouble.

Thankfully, you weren't stopped by any unsavory persons nor did you get too lost on your way back to the inn. When the view of the amber, sunset colored sea came into view, you knew that you didn’t have too much farther to go. The place you were staying at was on the seafront. All you would have to do now was walk down the street until you found it. You looked back and forth down each way of the road to try to remember which way your inn was based on other buildings and landmarks. That’s when suddenly, you heard the dull clicking of dress shoes walking down the sidewalk.

It was likely that it was just a local also making their way back home for the evening, but you didn’t feel like taking any chances. There was something about the cadence of the steps that seemed off; they were extremely calm compared to all of the bustling you had heard today. So, without thinking much more on which way was the correct way, you turned right and started down the street. Even if your inn wasn’t this way, it would still give you some space from the person that was getting closer to you by the second. There was also likely to be a café or a little shop of some kind here that you could duck into if you felt you were actually being followed.

The plan didn’t work as the person down the street did seem to be heading right for you, and catching up to you in no time. Their steps still didn’t seemed rushed; perhaps a bit quicker than they were, but not by much. Whoever this was must have had a long stride to be able to catch up to you so quickly in such a little time. It was only a moment after you made that observation that you heard a voice behind you.

“I know you heard me behind you. Rather rude to not even turn to acknowledge me.”

The voice just radiated an ill meaning energy. There was a raspy quality to it like it had been overused for years and never quite healed; like speaking was more foreign to his throat than screaming was.

You weren’t sure what to do. Part of you wanted to run, but you knew there would be no way you could actually get away from him. You knew that he wanted you to turn around and look at him, but you were to terrified to, like doing so would invite him to interact with you more. The result of this indecision was that you were completely frozen in place.

“Hm, seems I’ve frightened the little mouse.” The man behind you laughed cruelly as an olive toned hand that was easily large enough to crush your skull wrapped around your neck and used just enough pressure to turn you around himself. The movement cased you to get a breeze of the cologne on his wrist. It smelled like burnt lilacs and cloves. And, based on the rest of his appearance, it must have been something expensive. The deep purple suit the man wore looked like it cost more money than you had seen in your entire life, and made his snowy hair pop even more than it would have foiled against any other color.

He seemed to be observing you as much as you were him. The hold on your neck was used to turn your head from side to side as he seemed playfully pensive, a devious smirk lightly tugging at his lips.

“Cute, little thing, aren’t you?” He teased, his graveled tenor voice not doing a thing to hide his belittling thoughts of you. “Obedient too, it seems… Yes, I think you can be quite lovely to have around.” The man then tugged a bit on your sleeve with his other hand as he looked over your clothes. “These could use some prettying up, but that’s no worry.”

You weren’t sure what switch flipped in your mind, but you suddenly found your voice.

“P-p-please. Let me go.” You croaked out, not from the pressure at your throat, but from fighting the lump that was tightening in it.

The man started shushing you, yet his hold at your neck started to tighten as a way to show you just how much restraint he was using before.

“Now, now. I’m giving you a better life than you could ever imagine. I know new things can be frightening, especially for you of lower understanding. However, when I decide I want something I get it.” You were suddenly pulled flush to him, your chin pressed to his chest that was bare under his open jacket as you were being directed to look up at his face by his hand that was now off your neck and gripping your scalp. “And, what I want right now is for you to be a pretty, little accessory at my arm.”

He chuckled darkly as you squirmed against him as you tried to get away.

“Surely a little bit of chest hasn’t made you flustered? Better get used to it, pet. I usually wear much less.” He teased as he pressed you even closer.

After a few moments of enjoying your struggles, the man picked you up bridal style and held you so tightly that you couldn’t move at all. After he was sure that you were secure in his arms, he started to walk back the way you had both come.

“The people in this trash-heap of a village have a lot to thank you for. Truthfully, I was in an absolute sour mood when I can here. But, when I saw a timid mouse like you scurrying around, it certainly caught my interest. You’ll keep me busy for a good while.” He noticed that you were suddenly more frightened than you had been previously. He cooed and comforted like someone completely alien to the concept, “Oh, don’t you worry. I might be a bad man, even by my own admission, but I would never impose myself on you.”

While you seemed a tiny bit more at ease, there was still something you were going to fight him on. It took you a few moments to work your voice up where he could hear it. “But… what about-“

“What?” He interrupted. “Your things? Your job? Your family? I am the only person that you need now. You must be forgetful, pet,” he demeaned as he squeezed you tighter to be sure he had your attention, “I told you already. I’m giving you a better life. I’m pulling you out of rabble and making you mine.”

You were propped up so that you were face to face with him, his icy, blue eyes boring into yours. “Now, be good and say thank you.” He instructed.

“T-thank you, sir.” You felt like you had no choice but to do as he said, and felt like adding the respectful title might help your stance with him. You couldn’t be sure that it did as his response was to give you a genuine yet crazed smile.

“Very good!” He praised, “What a quick learner you are! I knew my intuition about you was correct!” As was his habit the majority credit went towards himself. “However…”

Once again he seemed to be thinking over something. “I will give a privilege that only a few others have. You may use my name. Simply because I think it would sound darling in that timid voice of yours. Go ahead, try again. Lord Urien, this time.”

"Because you are my master?" You whimper the question.

"Because I am your god." Urien corrected.

You swallowed hard, not wanting to delay his demand for any reason, even your voice giving out from fearful tears you forced to remain in your eyes as you didn’t know how this madman would react to anything getting on his expensive suit. “Thank you, L-lord Urien.” You managed to croak out.

“Beautiful.” He purred as he continued to spirit you away from the rest of the world, to an unknown fate that you were trying to think of all the different choices you could have made to avoid this misfortune. The last view you saw of the ocean the night was quickly approaching, the water now a muted, blood red.

[bekaroth-reads]

This computer has taken over my life

[bekaroth-reads]

Just watched Electric Dreams for the first time and oooooooooooooohhhhh Edgar is just a guy!! He's just a little guy!!!!

[bekaroth-reads]

A Wonderful Life Gustafa x Reader

[So, I tried to write this where it could be either of Gustafa's character designs. Also, sorry for the amature poetry. I didn't take it too seriously, and you probably shouldn't either, haha]

The valley was finally nice. It seemed the winter was extra cold and windy, leaving the spring feeling more pleasant than it ever had in your life. After you were done with your farm work for that day, you decide to go for a walk. Things being so frosted for the past few months had both your poor animals and yourself feeling cooped up. So, with your animals out to pasture, you went for a walk.

You didn’t have to worry too much about about them while you were gone because you knew that Takakura would be there to keep an eye out for emergencies.

You decided the place you wanted to be was the little patch of woods that just north of your farm. Even with the Harvest Sprites living there and chatting your ear off if they saw you, it tended to be one of the quietest places around.

People did go there, but there was almost a sort of hush that everyone observed. Perhaps it had something to do with the Goddess Pond being there. Or, maybe it was simply everyone’s quiet place. It wasn’t as though there was no talking, or even whispers; it was simply a place to observe the softer parts of life.

The further down the path you got the more the sound of gentle guitar music floated in the air. There were a few people in the village that played, but there wasn’t really a question who it was.

Gustafa

His style was unmistakable. It somehow managed to be gentle yet energetic, much like the musician himself. It did seem to be more contemplative today. Or, you could just be making things up based on what you thought of the little melody you heard being strummed out. Either way, he placed the song on hold when he heard the gravel crunching under your shoes.

“Yo!” Gustafa sang out in your direction before patting a patch of grass next to him, silently asking you to sit down. You were happy to oblige. While you were getting situated, he took the opportunity to tune some of his strings.

“Takin’ the time to enjoy nature?” He asked as he strummed a few chords to see how they sounded.

“Yeah. Looks like you are too.” You answer as you start to watch the waterfall a bit further up the river.

“Right on.” Gustafa agreed while testing more chords. Soon enough, he was singing a little song to the pattern he was trying. He couldn’t help himself whenever the musical mood struck him.

“Birds of a feather,

Peas in a pod.

You’re somethin’ special,

An’ I’m somethin’ odd.”

His little humming sessions always made you smile. There was something about this one that caught your attention though.

“You’re not odd, Gustafa.” You assured him.

"Don't think so? That's a crying shame. Here I thought I was unique." He laughed, taking a break to adjust his glasses. It was a wonder he could see through the dark lenses now that it was on the later, purple stage of dusk.

Gustafa gave a sigh to end his laugh. He watched the waterfall with you for a minute, having what looked like a lighthearted yet important debate with himself. Finally, he voiced what he was thinking about.

"Hey, you wanna hear something I've been working on?" Gustafa asked as he fidgeted with the tassels on his clothes.

"I'd love to!" You practically jumped when you turned to look at him. It was always a treat to hear his stuff. Even if he didn't end up using everything he might mess around with, it was still as fun to watch him work.

Gustafa's cheeks turned a warm pink. "Wait, really?" He asked, his eyes almost as round as the rims of his glasses.

"Well, yeah. I'd love to. I love to listen to you play." You were confused at him suddenly being so embarrassed about something the two of you did often.

"Oh! You'd 'love to.' Alright."

"Yeah... What did you think I said?" You asked.

Gustafa gave a sheepish cough and giggled at himself. "Uh, not... that. Anyway," he quickly changed the subject, "This is still in the early stages, so no judging, yeah?"

"Of course." You promised.

Gustafa gave a few passes on the strings before settling on a key he liked. He gave a bit of an intro with his guitar, then started to sing.

"There’s a lot to be said

‘Bout the quick and the dead

But, my life has never been either.

While by every right

I did have a life,

This life of mine never had fire.

And just when I thought

I had got all I ought,

And had given back all that’s worth givin'

You came from the stars

Like the diamond you are

And helped me to really start livin’

That when the sunshine

Shone out for the first time

And made heart’s flower unfurl

Yeah, you taught my soul your sweet, Springtime rhyme

That melted my ol’ frozen world"

When he finished, both of you gave it a few moments; the breeze and the crickets in the woods singing his tune back to him.

Gustafa was about to ask you what you thought, but before he could say anything he felt you rest your head on his shoulder. He gave a contented sigh, took his hat off so the flower didn't poke you, and rested his head on yours. He moved his guitar over so the neck wasn't bumping into you, and placed his now free arm around your shoulder.

He loved his guitar and his music. But, he loved holding you here by the river with nature singing a love song to the both of you even more.

[bekaroth-reads]

Hi, just wondering if your still doing the herobrine x reader fan fiction?

Love your work, have a great day/night

Hello, so sorry for the late response for this ask.

I’m sorry, but as of right now there is no plan for me to continue either versions of the Herobrine fanfic.

I’ve tried to right and re-write it so many times, and haven’t been able to get it finished.

I’m very thankful for all the support those fics have gotten from everyone, but sadly I just can’t work through the rest of it.

Thank you again for your support, and sorry again for leaving you and everyone else hanging 🙇

[bekaroth-reads]

Tried making a Kinito Pet and it is cursed

I still love him though

[bekaroth-reads]

I know I haven’t posted on here in forever, but look at this little star person I made. I like how they turned out :)

[bekaroth-reads]

Brynjolf x reader pt .2

[Decided to make a sequel, though I guess you don't have to had read the first part to understand this. Once again I write gender neutral reader in general, so instead of Brynjolf saying lad or lass, I have him saying bairn like how you might call someone kid. Proof read but quickly so there's probably a lot still wrong, haha]

It doesn’t seem like it would be possible for someone to startle awake while also not moving an inch, but that was exactly what Brynjolf did. There was enough of his mind conscious to know he needed to check his surroundings, however the rest of it as well as his body protested. Once he was finally able force his eyes open, there wasn’t much he could see aside from a blur… and a piercing light of some kind.

Wanting to shield himself from the bright onslaught he went to turn. This action was cut short as the second he started to move Brynjolf felt like his was going to explode.

“Look who’s still alive!” A familiar voice teased in a thankfully soft voice.

“Bairn?” He questioned horsely, “By the Eight! What in Oblivion happened?”

You walked over to him, poured some water into a cup, and stared to mix something into it. Brynjolf was only minutely aware of any of this.

“It seems that you had a rather eventful night.” You laughed as you tried to get him to drink the concoctions you had made.

He was aware enough now to grunt and pull his head away, not wanting to risk upsetting his churning stomach further. As you came more into focus he pressed drudgingly with his interrogation. “Did I get in a fight?”

Brynjolf gave a sour look and a glower as even not knowing what the answer was, you thought is was funny and that it was certainly at his expense.

“Oh, yes. You had a valiant fight against some mead, and sadly lost.” You postulated before finally catching him at an angle that let you actually get the cup up to his mouth, “Now, drink this.”

He obliged you, but wasn’t afraid to let you know how he felt about the drink.

“Shor’s Stone! That’s vile!” He spat mostly figuratively, but somewhat literally.

“Got it from the apothecary. Supposed to help with the hangover.”

“Ya, know what’ll help that bairn? Put out that bloody light!” He groaned.

This made you actually laugh, which made him winch.

“Sorry.” You apologized as you tried to quiet back down. “But, I can’t put that light out, Bryn. That’s the sun.”

After this, you started prattling on about something along the lines of how there was rumored to be a way to actually black out the sun, but he wasn’t even to the point of comprehending any of that.

“Bairn, I’m not in the mood.” Brynjolf warned as he finally managed to move an arm and rest it over his eyes.

“For what?” You questioned.

“For games!” He grumbled, “Hardly a place in the cistern that the sun gets to.”

Based on the fact that you had to hod back another laugh, it seemed that something else caught you funny. You moved some of his fiery hair behind his ear as best you could with his arm in the way.

“Bryn, we aren’t in the cistern.”

This made him bolt up, suddenly aware that this bed was much too comfortable to be one of the ones they were able to sneak into the hideout. A few moments after his pounding temples stopped protesting the quick movement, he noted that he was in a rather nice, if slightly under decorated house.

It must have been yours. In recent times you had started to do favors for the Jarl, as a sort of means to have an insider in on her plans (as well as a way to make up to the people of Riften for the things you were told to do during your initiation), and the house was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up.

Something else that he was more aware of now that he was more awake was that he was at the very least bare-chested. Not being one to miss out on a chance to fluster you, he decided to better his morning by doing just that.

“It seems that I lost a bit more than my wits last night. That your doing, bairn?” Brynjolf hummed as he leaned closer to you.

“Well, yes- but not for the reason you think!” You were quick to add. It was pouring last night and I figured there was no point in you getting pneumonia on top of the hang over.”

Your tone changed to a playfully, parental one, “You were on this side of the town square, stumbling around and about to fall into the lake. When I went to see what was wrong with you, you practically passed out on top of me. There was no way I'd be able to sneak you down to the hideout."

"Could have let me fall." He chuckled almost bitterly. While he was trying to play the comment off as a joke, you felt a shift in his demeanor. Maybe there was a more serious reason he was black-out drunk last night.

Not sure if what else to do, you sat next to him on the edge of the bed. Resting your hand on his you quietly assured, "I like you too much to risk you drowning."

Again your comment was continuing the façade of teasing, but there was a more serious intent to it you both knew was under the surface.

To your surprise Brynjolf leaned forward, reached a hand around to rest on the side of your head and move it closer so that he could place a gentle kiss on your hairline.

"Gods bless you! You're too sweet for this line of work." He sighed almost longingly, but in a way you couldn't quite work out why.

Looking over to him there definitely was a much more somber tone than he wore much of the time. Whatever was causing it, it seems the wrong time to try and talk about it. So, you simply moved on by placing your index and middle fingers on varying points on his brow to see if the tension was starting to let up.

"How are you feeling?" You asked.

"Now that I can see that bonny face of yours clearly, lovelier than anything my tonics ever promised to do." He was back to his flirting, and looked happy to be so.

Brynjolf wrapped you in his arms and held you close as he could, resting and nesting his head on the crook of your neck, relishing in the way you both squirmed and sought his attention.

"I do need to ask one more favor of you, bairn. Be sure not to tell anyone I was so pissed last night." There was another hint of somberness to Brynjolf's voice for another moment, before it abruptly changed back to playful. "If word got out that a Nord couldn't hold his drink, I'd never live it down!"

You matched his tone. "Oh? And, what can you bribe me with to not tell?"

There was something of a dark chuckle from him, like he knew something you weren't catching on to.

"Bairn, I'm sitting here in naught but a sheet and my small clothes, and you're asking how I plan to bribe you?" Brynjolf let said sheet fall a bit lower than was considered descent.

He leaned forward once again and kissed you. You were so dazed by the suddenness of the situation that you were basically along for the metaphorical ride.

Just as you were gaining your footing in this situation and things were starting to heat up, there was a pounding on the front door.

Seeing as you were clothed, you were the one to go answer it. To your surprise it was none other than Mercer.

"I'm doing a neighborly call to see if you've seen a certain red head around." He pointedly explained.

Your face must have heated up or possibly still been heated from before as all you said was, "Well," before he cut back in.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, just have him come down as soon as possible." He sounded more exasperated than upset, though still upset nonetheless. Mercer didn't even wait for you to reply before he walked away, grumbling something to him.

"Sometimes I swear he's trying to ruin my life on purpose." Brynjolf huffed as he came up behind you, watched Mercer walk away for a moment before pulling you back into the house and shutting the door.

"I see you found your pants." You snicker as you note that he was now at least half dressed.

"Aye, they're dry enough to wear. Little smokey from being by the fire." He replied as he pulled you close to him once more.

While you were rather attracted to Brynjolf and more so actually cared for him, there was still some doubt in your mind about how he felt about you. So, you played off trying to back out of his hold by teasing, "I might think you're still a bit drunk with how handsy you are."

While he did laugh at the joke, he was also quick to ease your worries. "Hey, look at me." He placed his hand under your chin to help with the action. "I would never hurt you; not in any way, bairn."

Rather than something teasing or extravagantly passionate like many would expect from him, Brynjolf once again placed the gentlest of kisses to your forehead. There was something that finally made it's way through to you with this action. It wasn't just his way of showing gentle affection.

It was his way of saying, "I love you."

[bekaroth-reads]

@galaxybear asked this for a drawing request. Couldn't think of how to make one out of many fruits, but I did think fruit bats are rather strawberry shaped. Hope that's alright :)