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roseghoul26 · 3 months ago

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König x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, König offers some much-needed “stress relief”. Tags: Title From A Sabrina Carpenter Song, Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Edging, Not Beta Read, Fem Pronouns For Reader, Bit Of A Size Kink, Porn No Plot, Vibrators, Fingering, Cunnilingus, König Lifts His Mask The Tiniest Amount To Eat You Out, Scar Kink(?), Is That Even A Thing, Doggystyle, Safe Sex, German Is A Fun Language, Kissing, Cuddling Author's Note: My four-and-a-half years of German classes are finally coming into use (but I’m nowhere near fluent, so correct my mistakes lol). Also contains descriptions of what I imagine König to look like. Everyone is free to their own interpretation. Also I'm like a year too late for this but whatever lol and this one is just pure porn guys, so... do with that what you will Explicit content, minors DNI

You felt ridiculous.

Desperate. Anxious. Ridiculous.

Pacing across your small room didn’t help, your frenzied state unending. Anxiety hammered your heart, your stomach twisted in knots, and your hands ached from tensing them so much. Your breathing wasn’t much better, coming and going in quick huffs of air; you felt like you were going to pass out.

You were a goddamn soldier, a ruthless mercenary; you shouldn’t be acting this way. You’d faced down the worst of humanity and came out victorious; the idea of König coming to your room shouldn’t render you so… timid.

You’re not sure why you took König up on his offer for “stress relief”. He’d seen how tense you were all day around the base, the reason for that feeling long since forgotten, your words clipped, muscles tensed. It wasn’t an unusual emotion for you, but he’d never offered his assistance.

Until today. You weren’t quite sure what changed.

A shiver went down your spine when you remembered his voice as he whispered, large frame pressed up close against yours, but not close enough to touch. “Let me help you, Schatz,” he’d said, and you were certain if you could see his face, there’d be a smirk on his lips. You wondered if he knew how you felt about him.

Desperate to be rid of the tension in your body, and desperate for him, you’d agreed. It wasn’t until you’d reached your room that it sunk in, what you’d agreed to. It wasn’t that you regretted it, far from it, but now your stress levels were even higher than they were before.

You wouldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped that something like this would happen. You’d had the biggest crush, which sounded so juvenile for someone like you, on him since the moment you’d signed on with KorTac a few years ago.

And how could you not? He was tall, almost intimidatingly so, with a broad build to match. And the muscles weren’t all for show, just as deadly with his body as he was with his weapons out on the field. You remember the first time you’d watched him take down someone with his hands, a memory that had ingrained itself into your dirtiest dreams.

As for the rest of his appearance, you weren’t quite sure. He’d never taken off his “mask” (a shirt, you’d later come to find out) in front of you, even when on jobs together. You never pried, though, respecting his need for privacy. And besides, you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was the most stunning person you’d ever met. His eyes, baby blue, yet torturously haunted, were all that you needed to see to confirm that. After years of only seeing them, you’d gotten good at reading them like you would facial expressions.

Too caught up in your thoughts, you nearly tripped as your foot caught on the edge of your bed, a small, dingy thing. A mix of a sigh and groan left you, as well as a soft curse as you shook your hurt foot. Glancing at the small LED clock beside your bed, the time read 9:26.

König hadn’t given you a time when you asked, only a teasing, “Tonight.” Which meant, that at any moment, you’d hear him knocking on your door.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe this was all a joke, a cruel one at that. Maybe he knew about your infatuation with him, and this was his response. Deep down, you knew König enough to know that he wouldn’t do something like that, but your anxiety-riddled brain couldn’t think rationally right now.

Before disappointment could set in, there was a surprisingly gentle knock on the door. But to you, it sounded like two gunshots had just gone off in the room, your ears now ringing in response.

A soft gasp left you, and you swore your heart stopped. Taking a second to take a deep breath, you fixed your hair as you walked to the door, suddenly worried about your appearance. Your hand shook as you grabbed the handle, time seemingly slowing as you opened the door.

There, just like he said he would be, was König, his body damn near filling the entire doorframe, the tiniest bits of light from the hallway sneaking in. He was dressed down, which made sense for the time of day, so it shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you to see his bare arms. He must’ve been feeling particularly cruel, to be wearing a tight, black short-sleeve shirt instead of his usual loose long-sleeves. His hands were shoved into the pockets of some black sweatpants, and it almost felt wrong to see him like this.

And as his eyes widened the tiniest amount, you realized that he, too, had never seen you in loungewear. Wearing a tank top and some sleep shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way his gaze roamed over your body, setting your body alight. A part of you wondered if this was the first time he’d looked at you like this, or if your attraction hadn’t been as one-sided as you believed.

You weren’t quite sure what to say; you both knew why he was here. So instead of making a fool of yourself by attempting to talk, you took a step back, wordlessly inviting König into your room.

As he stepped in, you watched as his head moved around, taking in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t much, but it was a step up from the shared room you had when you first joined. There was a bed, a full size at most, the headboard pressed up against the wall, with standard-issue grey sheets. A nightstand sat beside it, with the LED clock, and a lamp that currently struggled to fight against the darkness of the night as it poured through the lame excuse of a window that resided at the top of the wall. A few other pieces of furniture, a dresser, a desk, and a shelf, were each in their respective spots, leaving not a lot of free room.

So, as König walked in, your room felt incredibly small, nearly suffocating. It didn’t help that every time you saw König your breathing turned labored, which wasn’t the best thing to happen to you out on the field. But your years of suppressing your desires had trained you well, able to put on an impression that you were unaffected.

“Do you want this?”

You’d barely heard König, your heart thudding too loudly. He had turned to face you, hands still in his pockets, a casual stance. But his eyes told a different story, hooded with lust, and boring into you.

Swallowing, you failed to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. Nodding your head was the only thing you could do, never feeling so certain bout something in your life. But you were nervous. What if you disappointed him? What if this wrecked what relationship the two of you had? What if this was all still a joke?

You hadn't expected König to have moved so that he was right in front of you. Was he always this tall? Towering over you, you felt his fingers, free from their usual gloves, grasp your chin, forcing your eyes onto him. A strangled noise died in your throat at the action, but he felt it, and you watched his eyes crinkle in the corners. He was grinning.

“Use your words, Schatz.” The endearment, although in a foreign language, made you melt. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, even after hearing it before, but he said it so sweetly that you didn’t need to know what it meant to feel its effects.

Your heart was fluttering now, your brain fighting between feeling anxious and exhilarated. König must’ve detected this inner battle of yours, something softening in his gaze. The hand holding your chin moved to your wrist, grabbing it loosely enough so that you could pull away if you wanted to, and he slowly pulled your hand up until it rested on his chest, palm flat against his left pec.

Once the shock of touching him subsided, you were confused as he watched you expectantly. You went to try to speak but were subsequently silenced by König as he shook his head, pressing your hand down harder. It was then you could finally feel beneath your fingertips his heartbeat, much too fast for the casual stance he had earlier.

He was just as nervous about this as you were.

He let go of your wrist once he saw you felt it, but you didn’t pull your hand away, quickly gaining confidence knowing you weren’t alone in your nerves. “I want this, König.” You were pleasantly surprised to find that your voice was steady, not even the tiniest bit hoarse. I’ve wanted this for a long time.

Pleased, you could also detect the tiniest bit of relief from him, uncertainty playing a part in his nervous behavior. But that was quickly washed away when his authoritative demeanor returned; you’re not sure why you expected anything else. In every room he walked into, he demanded respect, to be listened to. Followed. Obeyed. You just never thought that it carried into more intimate moments.

You certainly weren’t complaining. Not when you could feel arousal pool in your gut, a pleasant warmth that flowed through your entire body. Not when every word he spoke made you shiver, his accent thick, voice pitched lower. And now that your nerves had died down, all that was left was excitement, which nearly made you just as jumpy. As he brought his masked face close to yours, you swore your breathing stopped; it almost felt like the anticipation you’d feel before a kiss.

But his destination wasn’t your lips, although his eyes did flick down to them momentarily. No, he stopped before they could connect, mask and all. Resting his head against yours, which took a bit of bending on his part, you felt two warm hands begin to trail down your body, starting right at your collarbones.

You watched as his eyes trailed over your face, gauging your reaction. When he was met with nothing but desire and want, his touch grew more certain, yet he didn’t pick up the pace. His fingers continued to drag down your body until you wanted to push them down to where you wanted. Something told you that that wouldn’t go over well, but you had to admit you were curious to see what his reaction would be.

You chose to just shift in his grasp instead of trying to force his touch lower, hoping he’d get the message. You knew he did when you heard him chuckle, a sound that always made you weak in the knees, now especially. “Patience.”

You could detect the warning well enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to it. “Please, König.” You didn’t care if you were begging. All you could think about was how close he was to giving you what you wanted.

Another chuckle left the Austrian, but this one sounded more cruel. “You are going to have a long night.”

Before you could even think about his words, he was effortlessly sweeping you off your feet, hands having found their way to the back of your thighs. Insticinvly, your legs wrapped around his body, but you knew he didn’t need the extra help, and you also knew that he wouldn’t drop you. With a surprised laugh, you hung on as König carried you over to the bed, eyes never once leaving your face like he was enraptured by it.

Unfortunately, the walk to the bed was brief, and before you could get comfortable in his arms, he was depositing you onto the bed. So much for not dropping you. It didn’t hurt, no, more surprising than anything, the breath briefly getting knocked out of you. The cheaper bed groaned under the weight, rusty springs a godawful symphony of noises, but you paid them no mind.

Hungry eyes watched you from the foot of the bed as you moved up towards the headboard, back resting against it. Once you were settled, König stalked over to the side of the bed, his movements nothing but predatory. Yet oddly enough, you felt safe. You both trusted each other enough to watch over the other while out on the field and so you felt that same trust here. Deep down, you knew that if you were to tell him to stop, he would, no questions asked. Yet you knew you probably wouldn’t need him to.

But he didn’t sit down, rather moving to the nightstand beside you. Your dazed state quickly dissipated once he started rummaging inside of it, but you were too late to do anything. With burning cheeks, you watched as he pulled out a pink device, which looked comically small in his hands.

You wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your hands and pray for your demise, yet you were stuck in place once his attention returned to you. You just knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face, and if you weren’t so mortified about him finding the toy, then you would’ve made some comment to wipe it right off.

Finally, König sat beside you, the vibrator still in his hand. With his other, you felt his touch return to your calf, featherlight, and leisurely making its way to the waistband of your shorts. “You use this a lot?”

“König…” Your voice wasn’t as assertive as you’d have liked, coming out more as a breathy whine.

“Answer my question.” His hand stopped moving, stopping right at your knee. No matter how you shifted or squirmed, he didn’t move.

With a deep sigh, you tried to ignore the embarrassment you felt when you nodded your head. You then remembered his words from earlier. “Yes,” was all you said, but that seemed to be enough for him, as he continued his ascent with his fingers.

But his tormenting wasn’t done there, as after a few seconds you heard him speak again. “What do you think about?” This question came quieter than the first like he was sharing a piece of gossip, not asking you to reveal your deepest fantasies.

You.

The word was on the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, to admit to him. How you’d dreamed of moments like this. How you’d imagined him touching you, fucking you, devouring you. So much information was on the verge of being spilled, and you were scared of it happening, too many what-ifs floating in your brain to keep track.

But any attempt of holding back your words disappeared when König’s hand retracted, and you found the words stuttering out of you, desperate to feel him again. “I think about you, König…” You nearly felt out of breath after, your chest heaving for air, your cheeks now on fire.

König, much to your surprise, didn’t seem taken aback by your words. Instead, you watched as his eyes darkened even more, which seemed like an impossible feat. “I thought as much,” his voice sounded more like a growl, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. “And what do I do, when you think of me?”

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you felt less embarrassed about speaking. You were further encouraged when his hand settled on your thigh, pulling lightly at the hem of your shorts. “I… I’ve thought of you using toys,” you glanced at his other hand briefly, “your fingers. Your mouth.” The last one came out more like a whisper; he’d have to take his mask off in order for the last one to be true, and you both knew he wasn’t doing that.

By the time you had finished speaking, he had reached your waistband, fingers dipping beneath it to brush against your skin. He hummed like he was truly thinking deeply over your words. “In that order?” If it was meant to be teasing, you couldn’t tell.

Words died in your throat as you struggled to speak, your newfound confidence nonexistent. König, thankfully, took some pity on you, realizing that this was all a bit much. “Would you like me to take care of you?”

That you were able to respond to. “Please.”

An appreciative groan reverberated through his broad chest. “Sehr gut.” You weren’t certain what he was saying, but the infliction sounded like a praise, and your body responded as it would if it had been spoken in a language you knew.

You expected him to continue speaking, so imagine your surprise when in one strong tug, he tore your shorts off your body, before throwing them somewhere in the room. You heard an audible gasp from him when he saw you were completely bare underneath, completely exposed to him. You watched his hands flex from where they hung in the air, momentarily taken aback, his restraint pulled tight.

He recovered quickly, blue eyes obscured by black irises now staring at you. “No underwear?” It was a redundant question, yet he asked anyway, wanting you to admit to it. Sheepishly, you nodded, your reward being a low chuckle. “Gott, you are trying to kill me.”

That was the last thing he said before he was settling at the end of your bed, right where your feet sat. His unoccupied hand grabbed your ankle, pulling your legs apart so that he could settle between them. With both thighs resting on his shoulders, you could no longer close your legs, unless you wanted to suffocate the man between them. You doubt he would complain, though.

His face was inches from your center, and you could feel the heat radiating from him with each breath he took. His eyes had left your face, now drinking in the sight before him, and you could tell he was pleased with what he saw. Quite pleased, if the groan he let out told you anything.

“So wet already,” he murmured as if he was surprised. You had little time to feel any sort of embarrassment, before two wide fingers ran through your folds, collecting the arousal there. You watched, then, as he brought his fingers below his mask, and you were able to fill in the details as his eyes fell shut with a hum of appreciation.

Very much distracted, you’d momentarily forgotten about the device in his other hand until the unmistakable buzzing noise filled the air. Your breathing was labored as you waited for his next move, where he would touch you next. You, luckily, did not have to wait long to find out, as those two fingers returned, this time working to spread you open. His eyes finally shot up to yours, his desire evident, and there was an unspoken question in the gesture. More?

You would take all that he could give you, greedily. If he gave you scraps, you would take scraps with a thankful smile. If he gave you a goddamn meal, then you would savor every moment, every drop. With a shaky smile, you gave him a nod, not needing to use your words this time.

The first graze of the toy over your clit made you jump, eliciting an amused shake of König’s head. “Relax, Schatz.”

And you tried. Taking a deep breath, you went through the breathing exercises you were taught when you first enlisted. Either it was thinking about the breathing exercises, or the exercises themselves, but you found yourself relaxing a bit, your muscles not as wound up as they once were.

So when König once again pressed the vibrator against the bundle of nerves, you still jolted. Not out of shock, but because of the pleasure that action brought. And instead of pulling away like last time, he kept his hand in place, making you squirm.

Soft whines and gasps of air were heard from you, hands fisting the sheets beside you. You wanted to hold on to him, but you were worried that once you grabbed on, you wouldn’t want to let go. “König…” you moaned, trying to express just how good he was making you feel. Every nerve in your body tingled, that unmistakable tightness growing in your abdomen. You weren’t close, but you didn’t think it would take long with how worked up you’d been waiting for him.

The hand holding you open ascended, your back arching into his touch as he dragged his fingers over your stomach, your ribs, before encapsulating one of your breasts in a large, warm hand. “Du bist so schön,” he murmured, a glint of something in his eye. It quickly turned mischievous, though, when you just nodded along, his words meaning nothing to you. “Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage.”

When you neither confirmed nor denied his observation, he laughed, much to your confusion, but you were too caught up in your pleasure to care much. “Oh, Schatz.” It almost sounded patronizing, something that shouldn’t have gotten you as worked up as it did. Another plea of his name tore from your lips, the pressure in you building and building.

Glancing down between your legs, you were surprised to find his eyes already on you. A squeeze of his hand had you keening, König making a noise that almost seemed proud. “So responsive. Nur für mich.”

What could you do besides nod? Even if you could understand him, you doubted you’d be able to process his words. And besides, hearing him speak his native tongue was always a treat, so hearing him like this was melting you, another thing setting your body alight. Your thighs were beginning to shake, something that did not go unnoticed by the man between them.

“König… fuck, just a lil’ more…” You failed to see the plan he was formulating, your eyes screwed shut as pleasure overtook you. That tension was becoming unbearable now, and just on the verge of snapping. Your hips rocked and twisted, your fingers cramping with how hard you were gripping the sheets. You were on the edge, just teetering. All you needed was a little push, and-

The sound of silence was deafening as König turned the toy off, setting it on the bed beside you. Your eyes flew open, nowhere near expecting him to pull away just as you were about to cum. It would’ve been embarrassing, the frustrated noise you let out, but all you could think and feel was your waning orgasm. You went to try and finish yourself, but a strong hand caught your wrist before you could move.

“König…” you warned, pleaded. Like sand, you could feel your release escaping through your fingers. “Y-You said you would help me relax.”

“You are distracted, nein?”

It was true, your mind was far from the stresses of the day. But a new stress was building, one that was being caused by him. “König-”

“Lay back down.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d sat up, and with a sigh, you sunk back against the pillows, hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks darkened at the way he commanded you. You could feel yourself continue to come down from that delicious high, body still strung tight like a string on a violin. König played you so well, that you doubted it would take long for you to reach that precipice again. But would he give you what you wanted, or continue to dangle it above your head, just out of reach? You both loved and hated the game he was playing, but your patience was bound to run out eventually.

He settled in between your legs again, both hands empty this time. A few minutes passed, König lazily tracing his fingers across your bare legs and stomach, truly letting the embers of your previous orgasm burn out.

After what felt like an eternity, he began to drag his touch inward, making you gasp lightly. Like he did before, you felt him pass his fingers through you. The stimulation was almost too much, but it was the best thing you’d ever felt, a soft whine leaving you. That whine turned into a moan when he pressed a digit into you, aided by your arousal.

He wasted no time in working his finger in and out of you, setting a slow yet intense pace. Your previous decision to not hold on to him quickly fell apart, desperately reaching down to him. There was a second of surprise before he gave you his other hand, your fingers immediately locking with his. It was a startling difference, the innocent gesture of handholding versus the way he was making you see stars with every crook of his fingers.

His fingers were wide, much wider than yours, so the stretch burned when he added a second. He gave you a moment to adjust before moving, murmuring soft words of praise. “Gutes Mädchen,” he purred. “Gott, look at you, taking me so well.” Each word was enunciated with a thrust of his fingers, pulling noises from you you didn’t even know were possible.

As amazing as his fingers felt, you need more. Wanted more. Glancing down at König, you gave him as wide eyes as you could, and he seemed to get the message. “You want more?” Upon your fervent nodding, he shook his head teasingly. “So greedy.”

For a moment, you were convinced that he wasn’t going to fulfill your request. That was until he pulled his hand away from yours, reaching for the base of his mask. Your heart damn near stopped when you realized what he was doing, and with a shocked gasp, you shut your eyes, unsure if he wanted you to see.

You felt him pause, the rustling of fabric ceasing, before his voice rang out. “Look at me.” For the first time since you’d met him, you’d heard his voice clearly, not muffled by his mask.

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, still partially convinced that this was a test of sorts. All of those worries disappeared when your eyes landed on him. His mask wasn’t fully off, not like you expected, and a part of you was relieved. You don’t think you were ready for that.

Instead, it was pulled up just past his mouth, revealing most of his lower face, and any image you’d created of him in your mind was immediately forgotten, replaced with the sight in front of you. He had a wider jaw, with a decent amount of stubble adorning his cheeks. His lips were full, the top smaller than the bottom, and pulled into a small smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He was, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on, and this was only a part of his face.

But what stuck out to you the most, and would stick out to anyone who saw him, was the large scar that cut upwards on the right side of his upper lip, disappearing under the mask as it continued. The rest of the skin had healed together, except for on his lip, where, similar to a cleft lip but smaller, there was a gap, exposing a sharp canine. It was like his lip was turned up in a constant sneer.

You had no idea how he got that scar, and knowing the job you both did, it was probably quite traumatic. But the scar, alongside the rest of him, had desire churning so strongly in your gut that you nearly felt ill. It felt almost too good to be true, yet here he was, in between your legs, staring at you like you were the best thing on this forsaken planet, his hips grinding against the bed as he pleasured you.

“Hallo, Schatz.” You were entranced by the way his lips moved as he spoke, and he noticed it, a cocky grin now on display. God, the effect that smirk had on you was immediate, his smugness immeasurable when he felt your body react on his fingers. “You know how to make a man feel good.”

You managed to roll your eyes, not wanting to bolster his ego that much, making König laugh in response. But his playful mood was quickly replaced by one of pure desire, moving forward until you could feel his warm breath hit your center. His fingers had resumed their motions, that tension once again building in your abdomen. It felt stronger this time like your body was punishing you for not allowing the tension to release last time.

Not once did his eyes break away from yours, not even as his tongue flicked out to taste you, and you could feel his smile, never once dropping. He did it again, this time nudging your over-sensitive clit, making your hips buck. Letting his mask fall on your body to keep it held up, his now free hand splayed across your lower abdomen, keeping you in place, unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure.

Even quicker than before, you found yourself careening toward that edge, your nails digging into König’s arm, likely leaving marks. His name replayed like a chant on your lips with each crook of his fingers, each flick of his tongue, every suck from his lips. You couldn’t see him any longer, your head thrown back against the pillows.

“König… please.” You almost didn’t want to tell him you were close, afraid of him taking your release away from you again. But you figured he didn’t need you to tell him to know, with the way your thighs shook and walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt him smirk again, a sense of dread washing over you at its implication. “Please, König… let me cum.”

Forcing your head back down, you watched as he considered your plea, and for a second, you thought you were in the clear. That was until he pulled his mouth away, his lower face glistening, that smirk still there, before the mask fell back down. His fingers pulled away next, groaning when he watched you clench around nothing.

Frustrated was nowhere close to how you felt, tears now prickling your eyes as yet another orgasm was withheld. The torture was delicious, yes, but you were going to lose it if you didn’t get to cum soon. You’d wanted this for so long, to fall apart under his ministrations, and you were tired of waiting. Your voice wavered as you whined his name, but there wasn’t anything either of you could do now, as you felt that almost high fade away again.

With a defeated sigh, you let your head hit the pillows again, your legs sliding off König’s shoulders. You didn’t get to relax long, though, before his accented voice hit your ears again, unfortunately muffled. “Roll over.”

Without trying to hide your displeasure, you complied, glaring at him as you turned. You hoped he couldn’t tell how excited you actually were, fighting back an eager smile. He chuckled from behind you as you settled on your hands and knees, trailing off when he took in the sight before him. “I will ignore that attitude. This time.”

As you thought over the implications of this time, you felt König stand, followed by the sound of rustling fabric, as well as the crinkle of plastic. Something stirred in you at the fact that he came prepared, meaning he wanted this as much as you did. You’re not sure why you still believed he didn’t, but the reassurance was nice, to say the least.

Glancing over your shoulder, you managed to catch a glimpse of him, the sight making you nearly snap your head back around. Nearly. He had shed his pants, his black shirt rising enough to reveal a pale, muscular abdomen, created from years of intense labor and exercise. He radiated power, and a part of you wondered if that translated into more intimate aspects like his authoritativeness had. Would he be rough with you? Or would he be more ginger, like his touch had been for most of the night; not gentle, but not on the verge of hurting?

You would take either way, as long as it was him doing it.

“It is rude to stare.”

His tone was teasing, yet it still pulled you out of your shameless ogling. Caught red-handed, an almost sheepish smile appeared on your face. “You can’t blame me when you look like that. You’re a sight, König.”

For the first time that night, König seemed at a loss for words, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. If his mask was still pulled up, you figured you would see his lips struggling to form words, and, if you were lucky, a blush creeping up his face. It was a beautiful image in your mind, one that made you smile harder.

Clearing his throat, König shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in, and you pocketed his weakness away for later. Checking you for any last-second hesitations, he let the rest of the clothing on his lower body fall away, effectively shifting the power back into his hands. And despite yourself, a small noise left you at the sight, further stroking his already massive ego.

As to be expected for someone of his size, he was large, and painfully hard, if the hiss he let out told you anything. He was proportional to his hand as he took himself in it, stroking himself a few times, but you knew you’d struggle to hold him in yours. Just like the rest of his body, he was pale, with an almost purple tip that leaked precum.

Turning your head back around before you lost your nerve, a few seconds passed before you felt the bed creak again, assumedly to put on the condom. One hand pressed between your shoulders, wordlessly pressing your face and chest into the bed. His other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your ass against him, another small noise leaving you when his cock pressed into you. You let him maneuver you as he wished, surprised with how much you were enjoying him taking the lead during this.

“Ready?” His voice sounded relaxed, but the fingers digging into your hips told a different story. Still, the sincerity of his gesture made your heart thrum happily.

“Yes.” You’d never been more ready for something.

A strangled moan tore from your lips as he pressed in, obscured by the mattresses your face was currently being pressed into. Tangling your fingers into the sheets around you, you could do nothing but take him as he sheathed his length into you, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, your breathing ragged, when it wasn’t interrupted by noises of pleasure.

The pain wasn’t as bad as you initially thought it would be, and for a moment you were thankful that König had worked you up so much. But that tension returned again, König still not fully in you yet. A whimper of his name had him stilling, an almost painful-sounding breath leaving him as he steadied himself, using every ounce of restraint to keep going slowly.

The words tumbled out of you then, unable to stop yourself. “I-I can take it… please.”

“Scheiße.” The expletive was not unknown to you, nearly turning smug with the fact you made him lose control again. And just like before, he was quick to put you in your place, any comment dying on your lips when he bottomed out with a sharp thrust of his hips.

You swore you saw stars, unable to make any noise besides a soft oh. König, trusting that you were telling the truth, didn’t wait to give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping against yours with a slick noise. You could cum just from this alone, still so worked up, and König knew this.

The hands on your body shifted, wrapping around the front of your body and lifting you effortlessly until your back was pressed against his chest. He wasted no time tearing off your shirt, groping and toying with your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you. His voice was like gravel as he spoke, his covered mouth speaking right in your ear. “Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz.”

Even though your brain was hazed with lust, there was one thing that stuck out to you when he spoke. Never before had he added the word “mein” before calling you Schatz. You had no idea what it meant, but it certainly sounded like an English word you’d been dying to hear from his lips. Mine.

“Yours?” You knew you were probably connecting dots that didn’t exist, but the idea of being König’s was too appealing.

König stuttered in his movements, an absolutely sinful moan being pulled from him, a sound that nearly pushed you over that edge. “Smart girl,” he spoke while regaining his breath. “Cum for me, mein Mädchen.”

That was all you needed, reaching your release the hardest you’d ever had in your life, the relief you felt immeasurable. Your head threw back to his shoulder, and because your eyes were screwed shut you couldn’t see the way he stared at you with awe. Every muscle tensed and then released, causing you to go slack in his arms, your nerves buzzing with pleasure.

Your ears rang too loudly to hear him groan your name as he felt you cum, and a few more thrusts of his hips was all it took to reach his own end. The sensation of him spasming inside of you rode out your waves of pleasure until it became too much. König, thankfully, seemed to realize this, and he pulled out of you, then easing your limp body to the bed carefully.

Completely blissed out, you didn’t feel as König got off the bed, nor know how much time passed before he returned. All you knew was that suddenly the blanket was torn out from under you, before covering your bare body.

Even though every muscle in your body didn’t want to work, you forced yourself to sit upright and watch the large man, who was currently in the process of getting redressed. “You’re not staying?” You didn’t try to hide the obvious disappointment in your words.

König stilled at that, turning to face you slowly. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course.” The words came out so easily, so honestly, that you nearly startled yourself with your honesty.

Something like relief sagged his broad shoulders, and before long he was back beside your bed. You let him lay down first, as he did take up more space, before settling yourself in the crook of his arm. Well, it was more like you were half lying on top of him to keep from falling off the bed, but neither of you were complaining. König certainly wasn’t, his eyes crinkling in a poorly concealed smile.

A few moments passed in silence, simply savoring the afterglow and the feeling of being in each other’s arms. Then, “Are you relaxed now?”

You snorted at that, lifting your head to look at him, shaking your head lightly. Fondly. “I suppose I am,” you agreed. “Though I am gonna be sore tomorrow for… other reasons.”

It was König’s turn to laugh now, the sound lighter than you expected. “I hope you are not expecting me to apologize. You were the one who asked for it.” You merely shrugged your shoulders in response, knowing he was right, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of verbally admitting it.

Every part of your body wanted to lay back down, but you had a different idea as you continued to observe König. He tracked every movement of your eyes, and you could see his brow furrow in confusion. Before he could say anything, though, you were speaking, so quietly you wondered if you had merely thought the words.

“Can I kiss you?”

And for the second time that night, König was at a loss, blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. But it seemed he’d already made up his mind, nodding lightly, the mask creasing with every movement of his head.

Letting the blanket fall off you, you were quick to straddle his abdomen, eliciting a gasp from the Austrian. Tentatively, you let your fingers reach for the hem of the mask, scanning his eyes for any hesitations. When you were met with none, you flashed him a gracious smile, before pulling the cloth up right to his nose, not going further than he had before.

His hands, which had fallen to his side, now ran up your thighs, before settling on your waist. Blue eyes danced across your face and your body, not able to decide which sight he liked better. You were quick to keep his attention on your mouth, though, as you planted one of your hands on his chest and leaned forward.

Taking your other hand, you let it trail up his neck before settling on his lower jaw, his stubble tickling your hand. He shuddered under your touch, lips parting in a soft gasp. Even with everything the two of you had done tonight, this felt the most intimate.

When you pressed your lips against his, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged yours when he made another audible noise. A part of you wondered how long it had been since he’d been kissed, been touched this softly. If he’d let you, you’d remedy that. Gladly.

You kept the kiss short, but it promised more to come. Setting the mask back down, you pressed one last peck to his covered lips, unable to help yourself, before laying your head on his chest, keeping any comment about his fast heartbeat to yourself. “I hope you know I’ll be getting my revenge,” you said instead, hoping he didn’t realize it was just another way of saying you wanted this again.

“I am looking forward to it, Schatz.”

Translations:

Schatz - treasure (term of endearment)

Sehr gut - very good

Gott - God

Du bist so schön - you are so beautiful

Du hast keine Idee, was ich sage - you have no idea what I am saying

Nur für mich - only for me

Nein - no

Gutes Mädchen - good girl

Scheiße - shit, fuck

Du fühlst- Gott, mein Schatz - you feel- God, my treasure

Mein Mädchen - my girl

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x you #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x you

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mediumgayitalian · 6 months ago

Text

———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as Athena’s kids or as charming as Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink.

Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

#i never stop thinking about cabin 7 fr #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #will solace & kayla knowles #will solace & austin lake #will solace & austin lake & kayla knowles #apollo kids #solangelo #pining will solace #my writing #fic #longpost #autistic will solace

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djevelbl · 6 days ago

Text

I feel like explaining how Branzy's mannerisms look like in my head is SO. HARD bc he feels like SUCH a peculiar and specific type of person, that even if I TRIED there wouldn't be a fully correct way to string words together to paint the picture. But fuck it we ball — lemme try anyway

(ofc, I'm here talking about his character and personality as he portrays himself in his videos; the same goes for any other youtuber I namedrop as I'm yapping. I don't feel like I have to clarify this, but still. covering my own ass out here, media literacy, yadda yadda, you get it)

In the LifeSteal videos I've watched where he participates/is the main focus of (the Heart Factory + Amusement Park saga mostly, so not a lot lol) he has this... This showmanship, this stage presence, like he's standing alone on the stage floor, the spotlight's on him and the little earpiece hung on him has told him "it's showtime." It's like he's the opening number for the Broadway Musical you came to watch, like he's the circus master of the show; he's all you can focus on once he starts talking, really: he's hilarious and charismatic, disarming with that devilish charm of his, that has endeared him to the deadliest player of the server — even if you never see his face, you can hear his smile every time he talks.

For having been on a Minecraft server that prides itself in death, destruction and preying on players' insecurities before shaking hands on a good season played, Branzy wears his emotions very plainly in how he speaks: he doesn't hide his fear, or his amazement, his excitement, his bloodlust. It's how he is, of course — hiding who you are is hard, but Branzy also plays this all up in his favor: faking his reactions when necessary, blatantly able to disregard his current emotional state to match the attitude of those around him (main example being him matching Clown's attitude even through his own fear of the guy), being able to lie through his teeth about pretty important things (like the state of Carnival Mode to Squiddo at the end of season 5), and others.

His poker face is a smile — all crow's feet and charming show of teeth, something happy and elated as he shows his newest killing contraption and explains it out to his soon-to-be victims. And they fall for it hook, line, sinker. A practiced dance everyone follows Branzy's lead in, subconsciously or otherwise. Because how deadly can it be if it's Branzy who made it?

Not just that, but he's very energetic and has a brand of attitude and sass that kinda reminds me of JT Music in The Details in the Devil (stay with me. I SWEAR this makes sense) — it's the over-the-top singing, the way he goes from a higher pitch to a lower one, the way JT Music's voice rasps around the edges; it all has the same vibe and attitude to me as Branzy's showman persona: all glamour for the camera, a big smile to attract new clientele, charm that oozes out of every pore and you don't even notice that it's a deal with the devil you're making. Until he's gone and you're left to pick up the pieces — even then, sometimes you just don't. notice.

A maybe (hopefully) easier to picture example

To me, in a sense, Branzy feels like the in-between missing link of AM from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream and Caine from The Amazing Digital Circus: all the bloodlust, anger, and sadistic tendencies from AM, and all the genuine, kind, goofy showmaster personality of Caine — a weird combo, for sure, but Caine is already based off of AM so like, thought it was as appropriate of a comparison I could make; especially bc Caine is a ringmaster, and Branzy does give ringmaster vibes to me so idk

Ofc, this is him at his peak, in his element, where he controls the playing chips — he's playing 4D chess and everyone's using checkers pieces. This is him gathering and casually using the power and influence he lords over the server — I mean, have you seen how ppl react to his mere appearance?? People love him, that's where he thrives: where people have an attachment to Branzy, Branzy has power; people kept coming back to the rollercoaster bc it was fun and a challenge and bc it was Branzy who made it — throw the credit onto Clown, ManePear, FlameFrags, any other pvp-skilled player, and watch as people run the other way. Branzy is the perfect combo of charismatic, charming, boyfailure-coded, somehow still competent, and fun to amass server-wide cred that wouldn't be broken no matter how many lives he claims via his machinery.

Clown is dangerous, sure — he's good at pvp and intimidating, he can do his fair share of manipulation when needed, but he's ultimately relatively easy to avoid: he follows a set of rules and while he doesn't vocalize them, if you observe him enough you'll eventually learn them. You'll eventually understand what the triggers are, which convo topics are best to avoid and how to best gain favor with him.

Branzy, though? He's very much a loose canon — beyond keeping his good relationship with Clown for protection (and bc he cares, let's be honest here) and whatever he deems fun today, I doubt he cares about much else; these two things are THE. MOST important to him, and there's little you can personally do to control either, if anything at all.

Branzy is SO interesting to me bc he's outwardly all smiles, happy-go-lucky in a sense and a coward — everyone knows this, it ain't no secret, and if it ever was meant to be we've left that station SEVERAL seasons ago. Yet inside there's a raging beast that begs to be released — the only reason we don't see it too often is LITERALLY bc Branzy is HORRIBLE at pvp; we STILL see it though: in how he encourages people to keep trying his deadly park rides, how he dangles prizes in front of their faces so sweetly and so casually so they keep coming back. In how he doesn't hesitate to betray his team so he can gain favor with Clown, a character he believes will be a bigger protection than his team was beforehand. In how he didn't even bat an eye as he bold-face lied to Squiddo about Carnival Mode being broken when it was most beneficial for Clown for it to "be broken". In how he casually makes a bragging joke about having easily killed two of the strongest players without lifting a finger to battle, because they wanted to play his carnival games.

Branzy has two loyalties: first to Clown and second to himself. Everyone else be damned

So coming back to the mannerisms thing — in my head he's extra extra: I'm talking "dangled upside down from a tree branch to scare someone as he introduced them all to the Chicken Launchers" type of extra, I'm talking "he did a handstand on the rollercoaster cart (with his elytra on, he isn't stupid I swear) as it jumped over the tiny lava pit to introduce people to the attraction" type of extra, I'm talking "he designed a mechanical crossbow he could wear on his arm so he could shoot the door locking mechanism trigger at the bigtop tent the most dramatic way possible" type of extra. He's a theater kid at heart, I just know it — he's dramatic and extra and so fun, so of course he'd have fun with it all! He's an adrenaline junkie (honestly? Why else is he still a sucker for Clown?? Adrenaline junkie + that's his work bf) and he will do a dramatic full split in front of Fleshy's to introduce people to the food stand and you cannot change my mind

So. Yea! In my head Branzy's mannerisms are a combo of showman enthusiasm, theater kid dramatics, acrobatics fueled by his adrenaline junkie ways, and random rubberhose-like body movements that are uncanny on like. an ACTUAL normal human body bc he reminds me of Bendy and I. Don't know. How else. To cope with it, so deal with it.

#fuck this was SO ungodly long #fun to type up tho!#i will forever love the way branzy as a character is SO. POWERFUL in all the subtle ways and the fact he NEVER acknowledges it #it's giving “i already KNOW I'm good — why would i need to go around talking about it??” and i love every second of it omg #anyway #demon rambles™#i should make a dedicated tag for character analysis #hmmmmm #later #branzycraft #lifesteal smp #lifesteal season 5 #lifesteal s5 #lssmp #character analysis #GOD i love doing that actually #like. fave past time probably #gonna jumpscare clownscasino with this one when they wake up >:]]]

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fic-heaven · 8 months ago

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Ghost x witty! Reader x Price

Jealous much?

You spent too much time with Price.

Of course it was on purpose, if anyone asked you'd agree, after all, you are no liar. But who could blame you? It was so much fun to piss Ghost off this way.

Since the day you first paired up together in your first solo mission you were like finger and nail, deadly separate but even deadlier together. Your partnership bloomed into a friendship so rare even the captain couldn't believe it at first... The big bad Ghost willingly attached to a sassy clown like you? Wasn't Johnny the closest thing to a friend Ghost had? Obviously no, because the way he'd joke, train, protect and tell you everything that reached his ears spoke volumes of his deep attachment to you.

You knew this, of course. And although you felt just as close to him that didn't stop you from forming other friendships of your own and Simon was indifferent of this until he wasn't.

He'd wait wait for you on your room's door, respectful of your space and privacy but you never open, so him being worried decided to let himself in only to see you were already gone, to later be informed by Soap that you are having breakfast with John Price.

That happend THREE times in a week.

Ghost would wait for you on the stairs closest to the gym eager to spar with you and enjoy the funny remarks you did about anyone who crossed you or just pretty much hear whatever the hell you wanted to say without him having to saying much in return. Because that's your routine, so where the fuck are you? He sees you carrying a stack of papers laughing with the captain only giving Ghost an apologetic face before returning to your riddles. That happend TWICE.

See, Ghost is a patient man specially with you being a walking headache, but this? You knew he wouldn't hold it any longer. And you were eager to see how he'd explode.

His last straw was during a mission where you had to rescue a number of hostages. You two behaved with the same professionalism as always with a non so professional comment here and there, all normal, until you met with the captain and Ghost felt you instantly untangle yourself from his presence. Like Price's dry comments and even dryer humour was more interesting than Ghost's.

You were well aware the lieutenant wouldn't say a word about his obvious discomfort because what reason would he have? You were just attentive to your captain instead of your lieutenant, woops. Also considering the way Ghost is, he would never admit he has a crush on you unless he's provoked too far. So you'll use Price to give him a little push on the right direction.

Out of pure entertainment obviously, not because you loved that bastard too much to confess yourself. Yeah...

Simon didn't have a good enough reason to be pissed so that any person would understand without thinking he's jealous until you gave him one: At your captain's command, you two launched an ambush to the enemies corralling them dangerously close to the hostages, once they were eliminated, you three made a quick work of gathering the hostages out of the boat they were previously captured to wait for the rescuing helos to land while keeping them as far as possible from the bomb the enemies had planted. The moment you rushed inside the boat, Price had to tackle Ghost to the ground so he wouldn't run after you, it didn't take long when you trotted back to them with a few files in hand and a couple of minutes later, the boat exploded. Price smiled proudly, praising you with enthusiasm. "I knew you could do it, hon. Well-fucking-done! This calls for a celebratory drink, don't ya think?"

Ghost didn't speak to you for the whole flight to the base, his eyes were glaring daggers at your form while you discussed the content of the files with Price, seemingly careless about Ghost's state. Of course you were worried about him when Price said the tall brit tried to go after you, you asked if he was alright but the brief "m'fine." he gave you seemed to be enough answer for you to turn around and chat with the captain.

During morning drills, Ghost sat on a chunk of grass near the fences. His imposing presence did wonders making the soldiers around focus on their training, chores and other tasks, Price deeply thanked him for it because apparently he was busy with other matters of his own, surely with you. He sniffed trying to focus on finishing painting the mask he was holding and totally not thinking about you and Price alone somewhere far from him.

How dare the captain confide in you to gather important Intel he could had easily ordered Ghost to pick quicker than your short legs could carry you?

How dare Price spend more time with a stupidly annoying Sargeant instead of his loyal lieutenant?

How dare you enjoy Prices' presence more than Simon's? Was it because he was more handsome? Because he spoke much more than him? He surely didn't tease you the same way Simon did... Right?

He saw a flash of light from the corner of his eye, raising his gaze up without moving his head an inch he saw your dog tags dangling on your chest reflecting the light of the torching sun almost blinding his him.

The moment you spot your lieutenant you giggled and it irked something ugly in him. Were you mocking him?

You shot Ghost a challenging look he was soon returning with a tilt of his head as to say "oh really? I'll show you." He dropped the mask he was holding to the grass, abruptly standing so fast some passerby yelped in horror, Simon rapidly approaches you from the other side of the training field aggressively bumping into other operators who didn't see him but turned white at the sight of the angry lieutenant glaring ahead, a few rookies looked at the scene about to unfold in fright, some ran to find the captain thinking this would end up bloody.

-"What's got your face like a teapot funeral, lieutenant?"

-"Who do you think you are hiding crucial information of the mission from your superior!?"

-"We were reading the files on the ride here. You chose not to read them, Sim-"

-"Don't fucking call me that! I'm your lieutenant! Got it!? If someone farts I hear it first, if Price has something on his mind I'll be the first he informs, if Intel must be gathered I'd have to know."

You listened with humour all over the face, he was getting so frustrated he looked like an angry two-meter tall pitbull. "My my, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're jealous."

-"I will rip you apart. Hang your corpse on a pole for everyone to see..."

-"That a promise? I'd make a beautiful flag~"

Ghost was on your face huffing like an angry bull, his shoulders heaving with the force of his huffs. He was frustrated as hell with your enchanting wit that did nothing but enamour him further and the fact that he could literally intimidate anyone but you. It was driving him crazy.

You sighed "Are you really THAT mad, dear? I mean come on. You know you are the Captain's favorite but I deserve some of his time too."

He opened his mouth, his skull mask looming over you so close he did you the favor of shielding your face from the sun until "HEY!"

Price stepped between you, but you rose your hand to stop him with a serene look. "No need to baby us, cap. We were just having a peep talk."

Ghost took your arm dragging you away to a quieter place after you calmed your captain but John wasn't so convinced sprinting to you and stopping Simon by gripping your other arm. In that moment they looked like two kids fighting for a toy. You couldn't help but laugh out loud your head falling back not breaking the increasing tension among them.

-"Lieutenant Riley, you are out of line-"

-"I'm out of line? YOU are out of line! Fraternizing with this sargeant, giving her additional support and exposing sensitive information to her like she's ranks above her current one!"

-"Watch your accusations, you won't like the repercussions, besides you are no saint either threatening the life of this Sargeant in front of the others. This is unacceptable behavior from a lieutenant!"

-"OH wanna talk about unacceptable behaviour!? I've kept quiet for far too long. You wanna fuck this woman so bad you risk your position as our captain, it's pathetic... I never expected something like this from you Johnathan."

Your half lidded eyes shot to Price waiting for an answer, the wide smile you held slightly turned downwards at your captains silence. He looked stoic but there was a slight hint of nervousness that manifested in the way he pursed his lips and glared at his lieutenant.

"For real?" You asked. Ghost tsked, Price's hand never wavered from his position gripping your left arm, Ghost didn't either.

"Wanna know something funnier?" You asked, and finally they both broke the eye contact to look at you. "You two wanna fuck me so bad it's getting too obvious. So I suggest something: Do whatever you planned for today, come to my room at night TOGETHER and make up by doing whatever you planned to do to me."

Ghost's eyes widened and Price looked down trying to come up with a replay clearly as stunned as Simon.

"Think of it as a... Hmmm... A bonding exercise! Also a way to make peace. We will all benefit from it, and afterwards we won't have to talk about it if you don't want to." The way you spoke, so sure of yourself made the two men rethink whatever the hell they wanted to spit.

Ghost finally spoke lowly "And if we want to talk about it...?"

Your smile widen, your hands softly took the arms that gripped them making them both shiver as if they had been electrocuted for a moment.

"Then I'm sure we can come up with a deal." You looked back at Price who still had his blue eyes firmly planted on the ground. "Captain?"

"I have a meeting with Laswell at nine o'clock." Price finally rose his gaze to your face, his cheeks were dusted pink in embarrassment accentuating the beautiful constellation of freckles on his face "I'll cancel and skip dinner."

Ghost nods at his captain's decision, you look at the masked brit waiting for his own response "I had to be with Johnny and Kyle somewhere t'night. They'll be well off without me."

"Fantastic! My room at nine, then." You chirped until Price stopped you.

"No-" He abruptly interrupted. Ghost and you looked at him in surprise, nervousness lazed on Price's voice after he shook his head and recomposed himself "My office. We'll go there, that way people will think we'll be addressing the matter of Ghost's public outburst."

Ghost growled out "Public outburst?" But you nodded enthusiastic "Perfect plan! Also it wouldn't be far from the truth at all, am I right fellas?"

By that point the two men had let go of your arms but kept a closer distance to you, their previous angry expressions had softened seeking your eyes with desire, the voids of their pupils were so dilated you could see your smirk reflected on them.

"This will be quite the experience."

Who should I write next ;) ? Requests open!

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader x price #price x reader x ghost #witty reader

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television-overload · 5 months ago

Text

The Most Popular Man in D.C.

(X-Files Fanfic)

[read on AO3]

-.-.-

In the months after Scully is returned from her abduction, Mulder starts getting catcalled on the street on an almost daily basis. At first, he doesn't think much of it, but after a few weeks, he finds it odd enough to mention to her.

She walks into the basement to find him putting pins in a map of D.C., hunched over his desk in concentration.

"Mulder?" she asks with an amused look on her face, paused in the doorway with her eyebrow arched.

With a brief glance up at her, he asks, "Scully, do you think I'm attractive?" Her hand almost slips off the door handle.

Her mouth falls open to answer, but she has no clue what words might come out. What is it he's wanting her to say? He doesn't look like he's joking. In fact, he looks deadly serious.

"I–"

"I just mean, if you saw me on the street, would you—you know—whistle at me?"

His question startles a chuckle from her throat, loosening her tongue. "Whistle?" She stares at him incredulously. Where is this coming from?

"Yeah," he says. "Whistle, wave, shower me with unsolicited compliments?"

Normally, she might laugh, assuming this to be one of the goofy bits he does when he's in a good mood, but something genuinely seems to be concerning him.

"Why do you ask?" she says, brows furrowing as she enters the room fully, shutting the door behind her.

He puts another pin on the map, near the grocery store she knows he goes to near his apartment in Alexandria.

"Scully, in the last month or so, I've been catcalled by random women nearly every day, all over D.C." he begins. "On my run, at the gym, even once when I went to pick up more fish food at the pet store. All over."

"Catcalled, Mulder?" she asks.

"Yes!"

"Is that so unusual?"

His brows slant in clear concern. He needs her reassurance.

"Look, you're a... not wholly unattractive guy," she starts cautiously. "And these places—the gym, the park where you run... You'd be covered in sweat, wearing that— that sleeveless Knicks shirt you have..." She trails off, blushing profusely and hoping her hair conceals it.

"But, the PET store, Scully," he insists, thankfully too worked up to notice her pink cheeks. He gestures wildly at the map before him. "All of these pins are places where I remember it happening. All in the last month."

Oh boy. "Putting that eidetic memory to good use, I see," she says. She surveys his slightly manic appearance, gauging how worried she needs to be about his state of mind.

"There's a clear concentration in certain areas," he says, ignoring her comment. "Look: about four blocks from my apartment, see? There's a cluster of them, all near this corner."

She looks where he is pointing, and indeed, there are six pins huddled close to each other while others are more spread out.

"Do you have a theory?" she can't believe she asks.

"I was hoping you would," he says, a little defeated.

Well, if she's not about to be dragged into a wild goose chase investigation based on some theory he's concocted, then she's back to finding this entire situation hilarious again. "Why should I have a theory?" she asks, suppressing a smile as she crosses her arms and looks up at him.

"I don't know," he says, shrugging awkwardly. "You're a... a woman."

She rolls her eyes. "Thank you for noticing."

"No, but maybe you have some insight. A different perspective."

"Some kind of womanly intuition?" she asks doubtfully, challengingly.

"Well, yeah."

She purses her lips. She has no immediate answer for him, so the office falls silent. He slumps back into his chair, looking far more bedraggled than he ought to at just past 8:00 am.

No, Mulder, she doesn't have some insider secret about the female mind to explain this so-called phenomenon away, but... Man, that is a lot of pins on the map. All in the last month, he says?

Why are her toes tapping incessantly on the floor beneath the desk?

"Mulder," she starts, hardly believing the words that are about to come out of her mouth. "If you're that worried about it, maybe we should go check out some of these areas of concentration."

He looks up at her, just as surprised to hear the suggestion come from her lips.

"Really?"

She wants to roll her eyes again, but there's a knot of something she refuses to acknowledge as jealousy in her chest that prevents her from doing so.

"Only if you're that concerned," she says, hoping she sounds firm and not at all interested in why her partner is getting hit on by women left and right.

He fumbles his way to his feet, stabbing himself in the palm with a pin accidentally in the process. He curses under his breath and shakes his hand out while eagerly shoving his arm in his jacket sleeve. "Okay," he says. "I think we should start by my gym, that's where it happens the most."

"Fine," she agrees stiffly, trying not to picture him breathless after a workout and surrounded by his loving admirers.

She drives, because she needs something to do with her hands. He navigates. It's his steps they're retracing, after all. He knows best what direction they need to head in.

They park on the street, exiting the car and getting a feel of their surroundings.

"There's my gym," he points out. She's not exactly sure what they're looking for, but she keeps her eyes peeled all the same.

After a few minutes spent wandering near the entrance, she's about to call it quits, but then a muscular little brunette calls out from across the street, grinning from ear to ear as she shouts, "Woo! I'd pay your dry cleaning bill just to watch you work out in that suit, handsome!"

Before either of them has time to respond, or even come to terms with what just happened, the woman disappears into a storefront. A yoga studio, Scully deduces from the sign out front.

"See?" Mulder says, swinging his hand out toward the other side of the street. The suddenness of his speech startles her out of her tense posture, and she forces her shoulders to relax.

"I give her points for creativity," she says, marching primly back to the car and throwing the driver's side door open.

The next place they drive is the grocery store, just a stone's throw away from his apartment building. Once again, she parks, and they wander about, but this time, their fellow pedestrians are blissfully silent. She looks around. There's the grocery store. Beside it, a pawn shop. On the other side, a place selling herbal supplements... and possibly also other "herbal" remedies. RadioShack across the street. Not much going on at—she checks her watch—8:47 am.

"Notice anything unusual?" she asks, watching as an older couple hobbles into the grocery store arm-in-arm.

His shoulders lift in a shrug. "It's quieter than usual," he says. "I'm not usually here this early on a week day."

She nods. This stop might have been a bust, but at least she didn't have to hear another cheesy one-liner directed at Mulder.

They're not so lucky at the next, and—she decides—final stop.

About a block down from the coffee shop in Georgetown that he frequents when he has to wake her at an ungodly hour, two women loiter outside a shop advertising high-quality tattoos and piercings. One takes a drag from her cigarette, then calls out, "Let's see a smile on those pouty lips!" The other woman chuckles, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

Mulder gives an awkward smile and nod in their direction, and Scully promptly grabs him by the arm, ushering him hurriedly back to the car.

She stews in silence on the drive back to the Hoover building. She knows she has no right to do so, and yet...

"You see what I mean, Scully?" he asks. "You gotta agree that something's unusual."

Does she? He's an attractive man. YES, okay, she's attracted to him. Can she fault other women for noticing? Maybe they could do to keep their mouths shut and leave him alone, sure, but wouldn't most men kill to have that kind of attention given to them?

"I don't know," she answers, her hands gripping the wheel.

"I'm serious. I've lived here for years, and this has never happened before. Then all of a sudden..."

"You're reading too much into it," she snaps. Then, softening her tone, "I mean, if they won't leave you alone, tell them to back off. Tell them you're an FBI agent and can arrest them for harrassment."

"Scully..."

"It's not an X-File, Mulder," she says decisively. "We've missed enough work as it is. Just forget about it."

His jaw shifts like he's about to argue her point, but instead he says the words she's always longed to hear from him.

"You're probably right."

-.-.-

She tries to forget about it.

On Thursday, he cheekily informs her that he had been called a "handsome devil" that morning while stopping by the bank. Friday, the descriptive term is decidedly less work-friendly, but he saunters in looking quite pleased with himself.

Gee, she sure is glad she told him not to worry about all the attention he's getting. Now, he actually seems to be enjoying it.

The weekend can't come soon enough. At 5:00 on the dot, she bids goodbye to his boyish smile and wishes him a good weekend. At home, she finishes off half a bottle of wine and watches some trashy reality TV until it's bedtime, and she promptly passes out.

-.-.-

Saturday, she wakes up feeling stupid. After popping a few advil, she deep cleans her kitchen, tossing out the now empty bottle of wine and even dusting on top of her cabinets, a task that requires standing precariously on the countertop with a featherduster in hand.

As the clock ticks closer to noon, though, she begrudgingly pulls herself away from her work and readies herself for her afternoon commitment with her sister. On the way to Melissa's dumpy—temporary—apartment, she picks up lunch from her favorite Chinese place. It's been months since Melissa came to town. She's not the kind to stay put in one place for long. If Scully hadn't been abducted, or whatever it was that happened to her, Missy wouldn't have been there in the first place.

The apartment is one she'd found on short notice when she heard what had happened, and came to support their mother throughout the ordeal. It pays by the month, and has a serious ant problem in the kitchen, but otherwise isn't the absolute worst living situation Scully could fathom. She liked having her sister nearby, even if it was only for a while.

Now, the ceaseless call of adventure summons Melissa once more, and it is time to go. Scully had promised to help her pack her things this weekend, and now the day is here.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" she asks, loathing how the sentence makes her sound like her 15 year old self when Missy had first left home for her first (and only) year of college.

"You don't need me, Dana," her sister says. "Besides, you know I can only handle so much of Mom telling me what I should be doing with my life."

"She means well," Scully assures her.

"I know she does," Missy says with a smile. "And I know you're no stranger to doing the complete opposite of what she tells you, too."

Scully breathes out a laugh.

"Come on, help me take these boxes down to the moving truck." Melissa shucks her jacket off, tying it around her waist in preparation for the physical labor it would take to carry multiple loads of boxes down four flights of stairs. One of the worst features of this apartment building is it's permanently broken elevator. Moving in must have been a nightmare.

Bending to pick up her first box, Scully catches a glimpse of something on Missy's right wrist, visible now that her jacket has come off.

"What's that?" she asks, brows furrowing.

"Hmm?" her sister asks. Her eyes follow Dana's to the marking on her skin on the underside of her arm. "Oh, I got that while you were in the hospital. You're like 90% of my impulse control, Dana."

Her teasing tone does not negate the heaviness that comes from mentioning that horrific time for her family. That time when she was all but lost to all those who knew her.

"What is it?" she asks.

Missy sets her box back down, and Scully does the same. "Check it out," she says, drawing closer so Scully can see.

On her wrist is a small cross tattoo, remarkably similar in shape and size to the cross Scully wears around her neck.

Strange. She's fairly certain Melissa hasn't been to mass in years, much to their mother's chagrin.

"Why?" she asks, genuine confusion lacing her voice.

"Don't go all 'Mom' on me, Dane," Missy jokes, smacking her in the shoulder. "It's just a tattoo."

Scully shakes her head. "No, I mean, why that? Why a cross?"

"Oh." Melissa looks down at her wrist in thought, then back up at Dana. "It just... seemed to be the thing to do."

"Something to remember me by?" Scully tries to joke, though she's aware of how morbid that sounds, to live to see the way her sister planned to memorialize her.

"Actually, no," Melissa corrects. "It was your partner."

Huh?

"Mulder?" Scully asks, wondering how on earth her necklace—the symbol of Christianity—relates to her unbelieving partner.

"Yeah, it was— Look, it's not really my place to tell, but I saw the way he relied on that necklace of yours for strength while you were gone. Not once did I see him take it off. It was like, if he didn't let go of it, then he wasn't letting go of you. I admire that."

Scully still doesn't understand. "So, the tattoo..."

"Is a reminder to have hope," Melissa finishes. "To have that same belief in others that Fox had for you, even when things looked hopeless and we almost gave up."

Scully's heart twists painfully.

This marking on her sister's body is tangible proof of what Scully has known all along:

That her partner is something special. That his uncommon belief in the unbelievable leaves an impact, not just on her, but on others whom he interacts with.

She still finds it hard to fathom that there had been weeks and months where Mulder was out there, spending time with her mother and sister while she was missing, or lying comatose on a hospital bed.

"When you came back, and when you got better, I knew it was him that saved you," Missy says softly, as if she can hear her thoughts and doesn't want to disrupt them. "I know it's him."

Her sister's piercing eyes meet hers seriously, and she turns away, lifting the box back into her arms to serve as a distraction.

"We don't want to keep the movers waiting," she says, forcing her thoughts away from Mulder. Away from the dangerous thoughts that had filled her head all week.

Missy's eyes brighten, and she grins.

"Don't keep him waiting," she warns.

-.-.-

Scully hands her sister the last of the boxes, and Missy stands up in the back of the truck, brushing the dust off her hands with a satisfied sigh.

"That's the last of it," she says proudly. "Oh, wait—"

She turns quickly, rummaging through a few boxes before triumphantly extracting a small piece of paper.

"Here, give that back to Fox, will you?" she says, handing it to Scully.

"What's this?" she asks, turning the glossy paper in hand to look at it properly.

In her hand, she holds a photo of Mulder from one of the times he'd been locked up on trespassing charges that ultimately wouldn't hold. He'd gotten a kick out of getting his mugshot taken, and so had requested a copy of it upon his release, and the small sheriff's department in Idaho had granted his wish.

But why did Melissa have it?

"I stole it from his apartment," she says, answering her unspoken question. "Made some copies, spread them around."

"You— you did what with them?"

"Just gave them to some friends," she says, smirking as she plops down on the edge of the truck bed. "You know I make friends wherever I go."

"Yeah, but why?"

The conspiratorial smile on her sister's face comes straight out of their childhood.

"Has Fox been getting an unusual amount of attention when walking around D.C. lately?" she asks nonchalantly, concealing a wider grin.

"Missy, you didn't!" Scully says, her jaw dropping.

"You didn't see him, Dane! He needed a pick-me-up!" Melissa raises her hands in defense, smiling at her sister's reaction.

Scully scoffs, but only to prevent a burst of astonished laughter from escaping. "A pick-me-up, not someone to pick him up," she says in as chastising a voice as she can manage.

Only Melissa would do something like this. She should have known.

"So it did work after all," Missy surmises. "Good. He needed a confidence boost. Has his ego inflated terribly?"

This time, Scully does laugh. "Sure, maybe after he got over the paranoia of suddenly being the most popular man in Washington, D.C."

"I guess it would come as a shock," Missy says, eyes bright with mirth.

Scully smacks her sister in the arm. "He was convinced it was some kind of conspiracy!"

"Oh, well," Missy says. "The real conspiracy is how you won't hit on that man yourself."

She's going to miss her sister, she reminds herself. Just be glad she's been in town this long.

Nope. She still wants to throttle her.

She shakes her head.

"Melissa..."

-.-.-

The compliments—because Scully refuses to call them catcalls—continue for the next few months, though with decreasing frequency.

After thinking it over for the weekend, she decides not to tell him. Maybe some day, years from now, when they can laugh about it.

For now, she lets other women say her thoughts aloud, and delights in the way his cheeks turn rosy when she's with him to hear their cheesy pick-up lines.

She wonders how she didn't notice before, the way these women look just like people Melissa would hang around with. Choker necklaces around their necks, Doc Martin shoes... Mulder was onto something with his map. The gym: across the street from a yoga studio that Missy had gone to a few times. The herbal supplement place, one that Missy had definitely stopped by on occasion. The tattoo parlor. Self-explanatory.

Now that she's in on the secret, whenever it happens, it's like Missy is there for a second. It makes her feel less far away. She thinks of these women being handed a photocopied flyer with Mulder's face on it, and wonders what on earth Missy had specifically told them to do.

Whatever it was, it had been effective.

Funny. She never really pictured introducing her sister to her partner, but now she wonders how she didn't see it before. She's glad Missy stepped in to look after him while she was gone, even if it involved a prank of questionable taste. She wouldn't have expected any less from her sister. And maybe that was just what Mulder needed.

She tells him at the funeral.

It's too early to find the humor in it, like she'd hoped they would someday. But his lips do curl into a small smile. Remembering.

It still happens on occasion after that. And when it does, Mulder takes Scully's hand and whispers, "See? She's never really gone."

Melissa Scully had left her mark on Washington, D.C., even in the short time she'd been there. She left her mark on Mulder in the same way.

Years down the line, when the number of Mulder's admirers has dwindled to one, Scully lies awake, picturing his face as he whispered sweet words to her. His constant. His touchstone.

"You were right, Missy," she breathes into the still air of her lonely apartment. Sometimes it feels haunted by her ghost. Tonight, that brings her comfort. "You were right."

She thinks she hears the echo of a sultry whistle.

-.-.-

Tagging: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @teenie-xf

#what did i just write #this came to me while i was waiting at an annoyingly long stoplight on my drive home from work #xf fanfic #my fanfiction #txf #x files #msr #dana scully #fox mulder #melissa scully #this was going to be a short headcanon post and... turned into this #it's pretty much unedited and was written on my phone while i was half asleep so... sorry if it sucks lol #alright posted to ao3 too #imagine my surprise when i saw the word count #i thought it was at best 1500 words #this got out of hand clearly

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exhausted-archivist · 1 year ago

Text

All Lore from the Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Taste of Thedas

This is going to be a long post with all the lore from the cookbook collected in one post. This is only going to be counting the lore in the "blurbs" so to speak as the actual recipes themselves, which are not meant to be set in-world.

Additionally, it should be noted that I am unable to say one way or the other if the props used in the photos or the etching art shown on some recipes are to be taken as reflecting the canon the cookbook narrator is in. For the sake of completeness, I have included the less conclusive elements.

Shoving everything below the cut for length as well as to help people avoid spoilers. Think I got everything... There is a lot in this book honestly.

Cookbook Lore

World State

Cassandra is Divine.

The Hero of Ferelden is a Cousland Warden.

The Warden gave Leliana Schmooples.

Hawke is a non-mage, as Varric knows Bethany.

Hawke is diplomatic in personality.

Bull's Chargers, Krem, and Bull are all alive.

Cullen stayed off lyrium.

Celene is empress; Briala and Gaspard are still alive.

Alistair is king.

Varric is viscount.

Uncertain aspects of the world state:

The suggested lore based on the art, props used in photos, and vague wording in blurbs. These are not for certain this is the canon.

Briala is described as a spymaster and lover, implying she was possibly reunited with Celene.

Celene, Briala, and Gaspard are possibly working together in the truce. But the wording is vague it could simply be Celene ruling alone while Briala and Gaspard live.

Cole was encouraged to be more human and is traveling with Maryden Halewell.

Cullen got his mabari.

Josephine was romanced by the Inquisitor.

Morrigan has Keiran.

The Hero of Ferelden romanced King Alistair.

Food Lore

Lentils and onions are common ingredients to find in pantries across Thedas.

Ferelden has reliable access to tomatoes that allows them to use them regularly in their food.

Fereldans are known for their love of soups, stews, pickled eggs, and turnips that it is regularly joked about and seen as a stereotype. Devon regularly comments on the known expectations.

Turnip and Mutton Pie is a classic Fereldan dish served in taverns across the nation.

Nevarra food culture holds that food is suppose to be a feast for the eyes and mouth. Leading to their plating to be dazzling and seen as works of art.

The Jade Ham, is a smoked Anderfels ham with a particular glaze made from wildflowers and turns the ham as hard as jade.

The Anderfels are hostile and often considered inhospitible in certain areas. But despite the harsh environment, pigs farm well there and as a result are much larger than elsewhere in Thedas.

There are custard connoisseurs across Thedas.

Lichen ale is toxic, though most dwarves are able to handle it. However, non-dwarves can only tolerate a few sips of the drink.

Isabela has a drinking game based on how many enemies you have, it has killed at least one person.

The Rivaini tea blend is said to have healing properties such as helping alleviate headaches.

Dwarves underground raise giant spiders like people on the surface raise cattle and goats.

Orzammar has a contest where one is crowned as Orzammar's Best Sauce, the competition is so fierce people get underhanded in their attempts to acquire recipes. This has led to eateries, and in general people of Orzammar, to guard their recipes from others.

Orzammar also farms various mushrooms for eating.

Rice is commonly found in Antiva and Rivain, however it is not a large export for Antiva so it is a rare grain for folks in Ferelden. Due to it not being exported, rice is a cheap food item in Antiva and is very common in the more mundane foods of commoners.

Wyvern, like phoenix, can become deadly poisonous if eaten when they aren't prepared properly.

A jam maker lives in Orzammar, importing individual ingredients so they can make the jam themselves and hopefully sell it cheaper than imported jam.

Fauna

Mentioned through out the cookbook, not necessarily as ingredients themselves but sources for other food items.

Ayesleigh gulabi goat - Rivain

Cattle

Cave Beetles - Underground

Chicken

Crab

Cuttlefish

Dracolisk

Giant

Giant Spider

Goat

Gurgut

Halla

Lamprey

Lurker

Mackerel

Mussel

Nug

Pig

Prawn

Quillback

Sheep

Shrimp

Snail

Turkey

Wyvern

Additional Lore

The golden nug statues do exist in Thedas, Devon mentions seeing one in Haven and hearing rumors of there being more.

Fereldans who worked for the Inquisition would leave Commander Cullen pickled eggs on his desk while he was going through the worst of his lyrium withdrawal symptoms.

Spring time is gurgut mating season, and travelers are advised to keep their distance.

Starkhaven is oval in shape, shaped by rings of tall, grey stone walls, is filled with lavish estates, fountains, and sits on the Minanter River.

Makes reference to the ambient events of where Cole dumped a bushel of turnips onto a fire.

Food: Dishes, Ingredients, and More

Foods/Dishes

These are mentioned, referenced, and/or introduced in the cookbook description of the food, these aren't including the ingredients or foods mentioned in the recipes.

If the item is marked with **, it means there are multiple cultures with the same dish but the cookbook is offering specifically that as the reference point.

Apple Grenade - Antiva

Bark Bread - suggested alternative to black lichen

Biscuit

Biscuit, sweets

Black Lichen Bread - Orzammar

Blancmange - a white pudding dish from Orlais

Blood Orange Salad - Nevarra

Boiled Turnip

Bun

Bun, sweet - a pastry served as dessert

Cabbage Soup - Ferelden

Cacio e Pepe

Cherry Sauce

Cherry Cupcakes - Tevinter

Chocolate Cake

Chocolate Cream

Cinnamon Rolls

Couscous Salad - Rivain

Crab Cakes - Kirkwall

Croissant - Orlais

Crow Feed - Antiva

Custard

Dark Bread

Eggs à la Val Foret - Orlais

Fish Chowder - Antiva

Fish Wraps/Fish Pockets - Seheron

Flat Bread - Nevarra

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - Ferelden

Forest Fruit Cobbler - Dalish

Found Cake - Ferelden

Fried Crab Legs - a substitute version of fried young giant spiders

Fried Young Giant Spiders - Orzammar

Gnocchi - Antiva

Goat Custard - Rivain **

Grilled Poussin - Chasind

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - Avvar

Hearth Cakes - Dalish

Hearty Scones - Ferelden

Honey Carrots - Orlais **

Jade Ham - More suited for a weapon, stated to not be suited for eating.

Lamprey Cake - not made of real lamprey, just a cake modeled after it.

Lentil Soup - City Elf **

Llomerryn Red - Rivain

Mashed Turnip

Merrill's Blood Soup - Dalish

Mushroom Sauce

Nettle Soup - origins unclear

Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - Ferelden

Paella - Antiva

Pastry Pockets - recipe originates with the Grey Wardens, cookbook provides the Orlesian Grey Warden variation **

Peasant Bread - Orlais

Pickled Eggs - Ferelden

Pickled Lamprey - Free Marches

Poached Egg

Poison Stings - Chocolate-coated orange peels from Tevinter

Potato and Leek Soup - Ferelden

Pumpkin Bread - Tevinter

Red Grape Compote

Rice Pudding - Tevinter

Roasted Fig

Roasted Cave Beetles - Orzammar

Roasted Prawns - a substitute prawns for cave beetles

Roasted Turnip

Roll, pastry

Snail and Watercress Salad - Avvar

Sour Cherries in Cream - Orlais

Spiced Jerky - Dalish

Steamed Turnip

Stir-fried Turnip

Strawberry and Rhubarb Cobbler - Ferelden

Stuffed Cabbage - Ferelden

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - Orzammar

Stuffed Vine Leaves - Tevinter

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - Ferelden

Toasted Almonds

Traviso Energy Balls - Antiva

Tzatziki - Tevinter

Turnip and Mutton Pie - Ferelden

Unidentified Meat - a common tavern food in Tevinter

Yogurt Dip - Nevarra

Drinks

Chasind Sack Mead

Chasind Wildwine

The Emerald Valley

The Golden Nug

The Hissing Drake

Hot Chocolate

Lichen Ale

Pomegranate Juice

Rivaini Tea Blend

West Hill Brandy

White Seleney wine

Ingredients

These are only listed in the lore entries and not the actual recipes themselves as whether or not they are canon is questionable as the recipes recommend store bought items as well as ingredients that have unique Thedosian counterpart names.

Almond

Antivan Pasta

Apple

Apricot

Bacon

Bacon, Nug

Bark

Barley

Beef

Beetroot

Bell Pepper, red

Bitter Greens - this is a class of salad greens known for their bitter flavor.

Black Lichen - Underground

Blood Orange - Nevarra

Butter

Butter, Halla

Cabbage

Cave Beetles

Celery

Cinammon

Cheese

Cherry

Cherry, black

Cherry, sweet

Chicken

Chickpea - Rivain

Chocolate

Cocoa Powder

Corn, yellow

Corn, checkered

Couscous - Rivain

Crab

Cranberry

Currant

Deep Mushroom, various varieties

Dracolisk - The narrator suggests it being a potential meat in a recipe in Tevinter.

Dried Fruit

Eggs

Fig

Flour, semolina - Rivain

Giant - Suggested that Tevinter might serve giant

Giant Spiders - Underground

Goat

Grape, red

Grape Leaves/Vine Leaves

Grease

Guimauves - Orlesian

Gurgut - Avvar

Heavy Cream

Honey

Jasmine

Mackerel

Mango

Mint

Mussel

Mutton

Lamb

Lamprey

Leek

Lemon

Lemon Juice

Lemon Verbena

Lentil

Lichen

Licorice Root

Lurker - Avvar

Oat

Oil

Onion

Oregano

Pastry Dough

Peanut

Peanut Butter

Peppers, Hot

Peppermint

Plum

Pork

Potato

Prawn - said to have the same texture and flavor as cave beetles.

Puff Pastry - Orlais

Pumpkin

Quillback

Raisin

Raspberry

Rhubarb

Rice - Antiva and Rivain

Salt

Semolina Flour - Rivain

Shrimp

Snail - Avvar

Spinach

Strawberry

Sugar

Tomato

Turkey

Turnip

Watercress - Avvar

Wheat

Whipped Cream

White Chocolate

Wildflowers

Wyvern - Avvar, Orlais

Charts and Stats

Because I love a good visual rep of data, I collected some stats of the types of food, how many recipes are from where, and the amount of time a character was mentioned.

Types of Food

I did percentages for the course of food as well as the portion of options that are vegetarian, vegan, dairy-free, meat based, and alcoholic.

Food Types Stats

These charts show the ingredient percentage in the actual recipes and not the lore blurbs themselves. This is out of 72 recipes with the amount they were used in (-) after their percentage.

Left Hand Chart

Alcohol: 14.6% (27)

Dairy-free: 15.7% (29)

Egg-free: 25.4% (47)

Meat based: 16.2% (30)

Nuts: 3.1% (6)

Shellfish: 2.6% (5)

Vegan: 4.2% (8)

Vegetarian: 20.4% (39)

Top Right Chart

Alcohol: 37.5% (27)

Alcohol-free: 62.5% (45)

Bottom Right Chart

Beef: 11.4% (4)

Chicken: 17.1% (6)

Fish: 17.1% (6)

Lamb: 5.7% (2)

Pork: 28.6% (10)

Shellfish: 14.3% (5)

Turkey: 5.7% (2)

Percentage of Recipe Origins

Anderfels: 1.4%

Antiva: 11%

Avvar: 6.8%

Chasind: 2.7%

City Elves: 2.7%

Dalish: 6.8%

Ferelden: 15.1%

Free Marches: 5.5% Kirkwall: 2.7% Starkhaven: 2.7%

Grey Wardens: 1.4%

Nevarra: 2.7%

Orlais: 13.7%

Orzammar: 9.6%

Rivain: 4.1%

Seheron: 1.4%

Tevinter: 9.6%

Character Mentions

I organized the chart by game and the characters in alphabetical order.

DAO Alistair: 2 Dog: 2 Hero of Ferelden (Cousland): 6 Leliana: 1 Loghain: 1 Morrigan: 1 Sten: 1 Zevran Arainai: 2

DA2 Anders: 2 Bethany: 1 Fenris: 3 Hawke: 1 Isabela: 1 Merrill: 2 Sebastian Vael: 1 Varric: 3

DAI Briala: 1 Bull's Chargers: 2 Cassandra: 2 Celene Valmont: 1 Cole: 2 Cullen: 3 Dorian: 2 Friends of Red Jenny: 1 Gaspard: 1 Josephine: 3 Krem: 2 Sera: 1 Solas: 4 The Iron Bull: 4 Vivienne: 2

Food Courses

I thought it would be interesting to see how the recipe groups totaled out in how much of the book they made.

Drinks: 12.5%

Baked Goods: 13.9%

Sweets: 11.1%

Sides: 5.6%

Starters and Refreshments: 12.5%

Travel Food: 13.9%

Soup and Stew: 11.1%

Main Course: 19.4%

Wanna support this blog? You can check out my ko-fi.

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gingiesworld · 1 year ago

Text

Family Ties (2/?)

Natasha Romanoff x Werewolf Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @natashasilverfox @the-ox-fan20 @purpleturtletragedy

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N looked up at the night sky, her father stood beside her with his hand resting on her shoulder. Explaining her whole existence and the clan.

"Once you turn, it will hurt at first but the more you do it, the easier it gets." He told her as he knelt down before her. "Now close your eyes and breathe." He told her, smiling as she followed his every word. "Deep breaths and feel the change." He stepped back as soon as he heard bones starting to crack and crunch. He smiled as he watched her turn for the first time.

Soon he stood before a white wolf before he turned himself. Gesturing for her to follow him into the woods. Y/N had felt free for the first time, the wind running through her fur as she ran at a high speed. The feeling of the earth beneath the pads of her paws. The way her claws would dig in the soft dirt with every step. Soon the two stood on a ledge, looking out at the horizon as the moon shone brightly.

Nat had remained in her seat, reading more information on what they had retrieved from Hydra. Seeing that the girl who lay unconscious was indeed a part of an experiment. Just as she started to read over Y/N's blood work from Hydra, Y/N had started to wake. Jumping up as she never recognised the room.

"Hey." Nat spoke softly as Y/N looked at her. "It's ok. You're safe now." She told her as she approached with her hands in front of her. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."

"Y/N Selene." She muttered as she was backed into a corner. "Please don't hurt me." She whimpered as Nat knelt before her with a tender smile on her face.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Nat told her tenderly. "I just want to help you."

"I don't want to go back there." Y/N whispered as Nat shook her head.

"You won't ever go back there. Never again." She told her firmly. "Let me help you back on the bed." Nat held out a hand which Y/N hesitantly took, sitting on the bed before Wanda came bursting inside.

"Hi, I'm Wanda." She greeted as she placed the folded clothes down. "Nat gave me these when I first arrived here before she took me shopping. Her taste isn't really for me but maybe you can use them until then."

"Thank you." Y/N smiled at her gratefully before she turned to Nat.

"Wanda is another member of the team here, whenever you're ready you can meet the rest." Nat told her softly as Wanda observed the two.

"I think maybe leave it for now." Y/N told her. "I just, I don't know how much you guys know about me."

"We know that you are a werewolf." Nat told her as she took a seat. Wanda made sure to lock the door to stop any unexpected guests from entering the room. "And your family has been looking for you, going back over a decade."

"I was 12 when they took me." Y/N informed her. "I have been with them for years and they wanted to learn about us, my clan and what we can do."

"It's ok, no one is going to expect anything of you here." Wanda told her. "We understand how awful Hydra can be, I was an experiment at the Sokovia base." Wanda leaned on the wall. "Well, I volunteered thinking that they would help our country, stop the war that was going on at the time."

"Bottom line is that Hydra is the enemy." Nat stated as she cut off Wanda, seeing how Y/N looked at her curiously. "But here, the Avengers will help you, we can help you train and get adjusted to the real world and maybe find your family."

"You can't be serious?!" Tony yelled. "She needs to be locked up!"

"She doesn't." Steve started.

"She is a werewolf. What do we even know about them? Are they unpredictable? Dangerous? Deadly?" Tony cut him off.

"Hey! Just cut her some slack." Bucky told him. "I was Hydra's weapon for decades. Wanda too. Nat was with the Red Room and a double agent. We all proved trustworthy and weren't thrown in a cell. Let's just give her a chance."

"Maybe the girls can start with her?" Clint suggested. "She might be more comfortable opening up to Nat and Wanda."

"Where are the girls?" Steve questioned.

"They are both with the patient." Vision informed them.

"That's good." Steve nodded.

"Nat stayed with her all night." Bruce stated as Tony scoffed as he walked away.

"Then it is settled, we will leave her in the hands of Nat and Wanda. Besides, they're scary enough that none of us will even question it." Steve stated as everyone agreed. Only Tony went straight to Bruce's lab to steal the blood work to do some research of his own, even using the intel he had retrieved from the base.

Wanda was showing Y/N her powers, lifting some objects up and making them float around the room.

"That's so cool." Y/N smiled as she watched the red magic dance around Wanda's fingertips.

"I've not long learned how to control it." Wanda told her. "Nat and Steve helped me a lot."

"I don't want to change." Y/N confessed as the two girls gazed at her. "They made me change every day, multiple times a day." She started to play with her fingers. "They drugged me, aconitine."

"Wolfsbane." Nat stated as Y/N nodded.

"I used to love changing before they captured me. It was freeing back then but then they wanted me to do it all the time." Y/N told them. "But now, I hate it. You would think it would be easier, less painful but it just, the aconitine was making everything hurt worse than it should."

"What happens when you change?" Nat questioned softly as Y/N wiped her eyes.

"My bones break and morph into a canine skeleton." Y/N told her. "It can be painful but with aconitine, it makes it so much worse."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Nat spoke tenderly. "But we wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to." Nat noticed that Steve was standing outside, gesturing for her to talk. "I'll be back in a moment." Both Wanda and Y/N watched as she left the room, closing the door behind her. "What is it Steve?"

"Tony is stating that she needs to be put in a cell." Steve told her.

"Y/N is not going in a cell." She snarled as Steve raised his hands before him.

"We all went against him, but he won't give her a room." Steve told her.

"She can bunk with me." She shrugged as Steve smiled at her.

"You really have taken to her haven't you?" He questioned.

"She is just like the rest of us." Nat told him. "She has been through a lot and we need to help her like we helped each other."

"We will help her." Steve told her. "Tony is the only one we need to worry about."

"She won't turn." Nat told him. "Something they forced her to do everyday in Hydra."

"Well, she is safe here." He told her.

"What if we help her find her family?" Nat asked him as he folded his arms.

"I don't think Tony would allow us." He told her.

"We can maybe ask Fury or Maria for help." She suggested. "We don't always have to go through Stark."

"You're right." He nodded. "I'll arrange a meeting with Fury." He started to walk away. "What's her name?"

"Y/N Selene." She told him before turning back and re-entering the room.

"That was about me wasn't it?" Y/N asked as both she and Wanda watched her approach.

"It was." Nat nodded. "You're going to be bunking with me for the time being, and we are going to try and help find your family."

"Thank you." Y/N whispered as Nat gave her a small smile before she picked up the files.

"Well, I think we should have a movie night." Wanda clapped excitedly before she went on to talk about possible options.

"Don't worry, it's just that you are the closest to her in age and I think it's something that she needs." Nat whispered as the two watched Wanda with amused smiles.

"Well, I could do with a friend here too." Y/N replied as Nat smiled wider as she nodded.

The night went as expected, the three girls had moved into Nat's room as Wanda brought all of the snacks. Y/N just looked at the bed and the floor.

"You can sleep in the bed with me." Nat told her softly. "I don't mind sharing, hell I had Wanda come in here in the middle of the night when she first moved here."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Y/N whispered in a small voice.

"You won't make me uncomfortable." Nat told her. "Now get comfy." She watched as Y/N hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed. Reluctant to move further up the bed as though it would hurt her.

"I haven't slept in a bed in over a decade." Y/N told her. "Well, that's how long I think it is." Y/N turned to her. "I guess when you're strung up like a rabid animal, your perception of time becomes non-existent."

"You won't ever have to go through that again Y/N." Nat told her as she sat beside her. "I promise you." Nat opened her arms slightly. "Can I hug you?" Y/N only nodded as she melted into Nat's embrace. Little did they know that in that moment, they had become tethored. Destined to be one.

"So you want to use SHIELD resources to look for these people?" Fury questioned. "Why not just use what you have at the tower?"

"I can't trust that Tony jeopardizes our search." Steve told him before explaining the whole situation.

"I can understand how he feels." Fury told him.

"We didn't lock Wanda up when she joined, or Bucky." Steve reminded him. "And the two of them actually tried to kill a majority of us when they worked with Hydra."

"That isn't the point, Y/N is a werewolf." Fury stated.

"Wanda is a witch and Bucky is a super soldier." Steve countered.

"Ok." Fury sighed as he rubbed his brow. "Make sure she isn't a danger to herself or any of you."

"Nat and Wanda are with her, helping her settle in." Steve informed him. "I figured it would be easier on Y/N."

"Good, I'll have Maria do the search and she will contact either you or Romanoff directly." Fury told him. "Until then, try and get her on a training schedule too, just in case we don't find her family, she could be an asset to the team." He waved Steve out the door which Steve thanked him before leaving the base.

#natasha romanoff au #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff sad #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x werewolf fem reader #wanda maximoff #marvel

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ffauthor · 2 years ago

Text

Theo Raeken x Reader

In which you and Theo get captured together without the knowledge of each other.

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

Theo was grunting against the metal fence, his wrist tied with only the strength of tie-wraps, burning into his skin.

His gaze was blurry, but that didnt stop him from noticing a small figure in the corner, the blood smell hazing but smellable.

There you sat, blood drippling down your forehead and your skin basically ripping apart.

Your entire body hurts, to the point that even swallowing hurts. You have no idea what happened to you to get in this bad of a state or how there's suddenly a very attractive guy hanging against a fence, with his eyes glued to your damaged body.

Theo didn't say anything tho, and maybe he didn't even get a chance to because a guy with a taser strongly gripped in his hand came crashing through the thick metal doors, the door slamming shut behind him with a hard sound.

The worried expression Theo had towards you was turned into a cold deadly stare, this time being thrown at the guy in front of him, who had this goddamn smirk on his face.

you knew he just liked to torture people and based on the look on the boy's face he knew it too, maybe even about to feel it.

Theo growled to the man as the man patiently took his time to throw water over the now impatient boy, sewed to a metal fence he can't get out of.

You could take this as the opportunity to get up, sneak away and never return. But deep down you couldn't, not just because some part told you to stay, but because you were too weak to even say anything, let alone break through your tied wrists.

''You surely do enjoy this. Don't you?'' his hair was messy and was hanging partly over his eyes, and you could've sworn he was biting his lip while still showing his teeth. Showing absolutely no fear, no... mercy.

The man was tasering Theo with force, basically slamming the hard metal into his skin, making sure he hits every vein. In the hope, it would make him weaker.

You closed your eyes to not get any sight of it, although you could barely see anything because of your burning headache and the blurry images in front of your sight.

You don't know how long you have been sitting here, in the dark corner with the presence of a boy you surely didn't mind. All you felt was the blood dripping out of your wounds and your breathing slowing down with the minute. You were convinced you were losing a lot of blood.

''They fired you, didn't they? What- Did you get caught sticking needles into helpless patients again?'' you could hear the beeping sound of the taser getting to a higher level as though it was music, but still the boy showed no fear. ''Or did they catch you trying to stick them with something else?'' His body was stiffened against the fence and he was groaning between his uneven breaths and breathless chuckles.

''Looks like-'' You could see a glimpse of the tie-wraps getting orange with the amount of pressure being put on them, a sensing smoke forming past his wrists.

''We got-''

''A winner.'' The tie-wraps broke by the amount of strength and rubbing it got and sprang to the other side of the room.

The boy got off the fence while his eyes lit up, a bright yellow color replacing his cloud-grey ones. Claws came out through his nails with force.

Chimera. Right in front of you.

Theo started to attack the male who was taken aback by the sudden action the boy pulled, and his screams for help caused you to bang your head against the wall, in the hope you would somehow manage to block the noise.

You closed your eyes, now being at your weakest as you felt the presence of someone, now closer to you than before. In fear your adrenaline gave you a boost, which caused you to startle and back away even more, but with no success.

Theo was kneeling down in front of you, holding your small hand into his massive one, black veins coming out through the skin of his arm. You felt the pain releasing as you get lifted off the cold floor.

''I got you, I got you.''

''Lay your head against my chest, okay? but keep your pretty eyes open for me.''

#theo raeken x reader #theo raeken #theo raeken x you #theo raeken x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #reader angst

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eksvaized · 10 months ago

Text

[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 7, MDNI

You awaken early in the morning with warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft, dappled glow across the room. As you sit up and stretch, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, your feet bump into something soft. You draw your knees back to your chest. Simon has also fallen asleep in your bedroom. He is curled at the foot of the bed. His fingers are wrapped around your shin and your sock is rolled down to your ankle. In his other hand, he is clutching a knife. You can't help but wonder how he managed not to cut himself while sleeping.

You try to pry the blade away from his clenched fist. But your touch stirs him up from his unconscious state. His fingers tighten around the handle of the knife. Simon yanks your arm towards him. His movements are rapid and forceful. The confusion swirling in his eyes is tangible. Yet, upon seeing your face, his frantic gaze softens, and he relaxes. He releases his hold on the blade, allowing you to slide it out of his hand. His body sinks back onto the mattress. As he blinks groggily, trying to adjust to the bright light, he wipes the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

For a few hours, an uneasy silence hangs between you both, heavy and palpable, like a thick fog. It's clear that you and Simon are teetering on the edge of voicing your thoughts. The only question is who will dare to shatter the fragile stillness first. After breakfast, consisting of nothing more than stale bread, a slice of aged cheese, and a shared large cup of tepid tea, you summon the courage to speak. Your words cut through the mounting tension.

"Are we going to talk about what happened last night?"

"Do we have to?" Simon replies without looking at you. He smokes while leaning against the window that's barely ajar. The half-finished cigarette that dangles in his fingers, somehow, has survived the night. After falling to the floor, it had miraculously avoided being crushed under your feet.

"Yes," you say, moving towards him. You press your shoulder against the cool wall. The chill seeps through your clothing and sends an icy shudder skittering down your side.

You refuse to forget about yesterday's event. You need answers to the questions that have been plaguing you since you saw the light flashing at the end of the street. The harsh realisation that those people who you thought were your family coming home were, in fact, just strangers, is a bitter pill to swallow. But you are certain that Simon knows who they were and where they came from.

"Fine," he says through the gritted teeth. His fingers race through his hair, messing it up. You notice it has grown out and make a mental note to ask him later if he wants you to trim it. "Before the disease spread and everything went to hell, I was a soldier in the Special Forces."

His confession fills in the gaps that have been puzzling your mind since the day you met him: his muscular physique, his proficiency with firearms, and his combat skills that could only come from years of experience in the battlefield. It also explains his fearlessness and recklessness, which now appear not as erratic traits, but as the hardened exterior of a soldier.

Simon recounted how the dead attacked him and his team during what was supposed to be a routine mission. Upon returning to the base, they discovered they had been bitten. Likely during the chaos of the attack. His teammates' skins were littered with scratches and bruises. During the incident, Simon was separated from the group. As a result, when a small horde of biters cornered his squad, he managed to evade any injuries.

Rumours of a deadly disease began to circulate, amplified by the constant news cycle. The media showed footage of people in a rabid state. They behaved like wild animals and attacked everyone with a pulse and a beating heart. As the situation deteriorated and communication systems collapsed, the severity of their predicament became starkly evident to Simon and his team. The world as they knew it seemed to crumble around them. His team, once confident and composed, had to face the grim reality of their fate.

The final blow came when a group of outlaws attacked their base. Simon was faced with a decision that still haunts him to this day. His captain, bitten and doomed, like the rest of his teammates, ordered him to leave, as he was still unharmed. Torn between guilt and duty to his team, Simon was reluctant to abandon his friends and leave them to face the outlaws alone. But his captain didn't give him a choice. He packed Simon's duffel back with a few spare guns, some food, and then basically pushed him through the gates.

"I'm tired of fighting, of constantly putting my life on the line because I believe it's the right thing to do," he sighs. His shoulders slump, bearing the invisible weight of his internal struggle. His body folds inwards. "I didn't understand it before, couldn't comprehend it, but after meeting you... now I do. Even though part of me yearns for revenge, I can't risk dying because of you."

A sudden fluttering sensation fills your chest, like the delicate wings of a butterfly trapped within your rib cage. You swallow, but your throat feels parched, as if no amount of water could ever quench the dryness.

"I-I don't know... what — Do you think those strangers will return?" You find it hard to form a coherent sentence. There's so much you want to say right now. But you struggle to find the right words.

"If we are lucky, we won't see them again."

Throughout the rest of the week, you are on a constant edge. You are afraid that at any moment someone will march down the street, knock on the front door and when you open it, after aiming a gun at your head, will put a bullet through your skull before going to track Simon. A part of you wants to confess your dreadful thoughts to Simon. But you hold your tongue back. You don't want to add to his worries. Because even if he says nothing to you either, you see the pain in his eyes each time you look at him. Talking with you brought back a lot of awful memories to him. But the main reason you say nothing is because you don't want to appear weak in front of him.

Supplies are dwindling at an alarming rate. When Simon addresses the need to venture outside in search of more before you have a chance to ask if you can tag along, he makes the decision for you.

"You are coming with me. I don't want you to be alone in the house while I'm gone."

* * *

You are curled up in a bed, buried under a pile of heavy blankets. The harsh, biting cold from outside has seeped into the room. It turns your breath into small clouds of vapour that dissipate into the frigid air with each exhale. The chill is so pervasive that sleep becomes an elusive entity. Despite being swathed in layers of clothing and having your feet tucked into not one, but two pairs of socks, your teeth still chatter. The end of summer is near, and you can feel it as each night grows colder and colder.

Simon is downstairs. The distinct sound of his pacing reverberates through the silence of the house. Driven by the need for warmth and company, you extricate yourself from the mountain of blankets, leaving the relative warmth of your bed behind, and descend the stairs.

Upon entering the kitchen, you find Simon perched on the wooden table. His attention is engrossed in his blade. The faint moonlight filtering through the closed blinds illuminates His silhouette.

"I'm cold," you say, causing his focus to shift to you.

He looks at you. His gaze is so intense that you feel as if he's trying to read your mind. For a moment, the silence settles in. You half expect him to order you to go back to bed. Instead, he slides off the table and intertwines his fingers with yours. After leading you to the living room, he sits down on the couch and pulls you into his embrace. Your body tumbles on top of him. You bite the inside of your cheek when you feel your face turn bright red.

Once you stop your fidgeting and get comfortable, he swathes both of you in a soft blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. You snuggle up to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. When the icy tip of your nose presses against his skin, he squirms a little, causing a low giggle to slip past your lips. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His body is like a furnace, so it isn't long before you feel the warmth seeping into your bones, driving away the chill.

"Thank you," you mumble, the words barely escaping your mouth as you feel the sleep tugging at your consciousness. Your eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

Just before you close your eyes — Simon thinks you are already asleep — he presses his lips to your forehead. You try to suppress a smile, but the corners of your lips betray you, curving upward involuntarily.

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset, @lurkinwbreexy, @breadpitt69, @browtfyoudoing If you want to be added, let me know!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod #writing #ghost x reader #call of duty #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost cod #ghost #ghost call of duty #cod x reader #cod ghost #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse #AP2 #fem!reader

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yanderes-galore · 1 year ago

Note

May I request a yandere scarecrow concept?

Please and thank you!

You requested no specific version of Scarecrow so I kept it general. So this takes from no specific comic, series, movie, or game. Defaulted to romantic to make things easier. This feels a bit lame but I struggled to figure out where to take this without repeating myself.

This one certainly dips into more sadistic horror territory... perfect for Halloween, lol.

However, I did use this lore video.

General Yandere! Scarecrow Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Manipulation, Violence/Canon-typical violence, Drugging, Forced affection under the influence mention, Kidnapping, Psychological torture, Forced relationship (?)

The most basic understanding of Jonathan Crane is he's a man that takes sadistic pleasure in the fear of others.

He uses his fear toxin to manipulate those who inhale it, making them see nightmares.

All hallucinations for the most part, but in mass quantities it can be deadly.

Since this is no specific version, I can't find a specific plot for this concept to take place.

However, maybe you were a patient of his at some point or some poor hero he decided to target.

Crane seems like he'd be very manipulative of you due to his toxin.

How he feels towards you, no matter how you meet, is he sees you as another victim.

Another person to manipulate and leech off of with his fear toxin.

Yet over time, as his obsession takes place, he starts to see the beauty of your fear.

What Crane usually does is drug others up on his toxin before torturing them for his own pleasure.

With you, it's different.

When it comes to you Crane just wants to observe you scramble about in complete hysteria.

The sight fills him with a new craving.

He likes that you seem so helpless and at his mercy.

It satiates yet another sadistic desire in him.

He may even interpret as you needing him to rely on.

After all, he's the only one who can make the drugs stop!

I feel the core behavior of a Yandere! Scarecrow would be him making you compliant with his fear toxin.

You have no idea where you are or what's real and the fear that's radiating off you is delicious to him.

Crane shows up as you own personal devil.

That or some sort of comfort in your nightmares, depending on how he feels.

The end goal is certainly to manipulate you into needing him for one reason or another.

Messing with your mind enough may just achieve that goal.

Really the only one that can save you from this situation is Batman himself.

Crane would get distracted by Batman due to him being the only one that scares him.

Which means Batman can scoop your disoriented body up and flush the toxin out of you once you're safe and out of Crane's reach.

Your first meeting would be through this way no doubt.

Crane decides to pick you to play around with, only to be interrupted by Batman ruining the fun.

Crane ends up developing a need to find you.

He finds your fear appealing, you look so cute in your fearful state.

To watch you scampering for help is joyful to him.

When he pretends to play your savior through your nightmares is funny to him as you stare at him with dazed eyes.

It's a shame Batman ruined such a new feeling.

Oh well... he'll find you again at some point.

Well... he does!

Many times, actually.

This is what develops his obsession.

This urge... this need to manipulate you into needing him drives him.

He wants to drag you into a never-ending pit of fear.

Yet he also wants to cage you in his arms and never let go, like a monster digging its claws into its prey.

Crane's obsession appears like it would be primarily sadistic in nature.

At least... that's how I see him based on what I've seen.

In a way he begins to care for you but overall finds you more appealing under his toxin.

The more he gets his hands on you, the more he finds sadistic pleasure in you pleading for him to help you.

He falls in love with the way you turn to him.

He can't help but reach out and hold you as you shiver, cry, and scream due to the toxin.

It's all a melody he loves, he almost wants to lean in and kiss you while you struggle.

He may just do it.

Crane is one who grows more attracted to you when you're afraid.

Call it a... kink of sorts I suppose.

The idea of restraining you comes to mind.

He alters doses of the toxin to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

If he wanted to hurt people, he can choose others.

When it comes to you he just likes to watch you scared.

In his eyes he plans to become close to you... close enough to be a lover in his eyes.

I say in his eyes as to you... he's your captor and torturer.

He hunts you down specifically.

To the point he's just chosen to lock you away to inhale toxins all day.

You're terrified in general... but even more of him.

While you suffer hallucinations and your mind betraying you, Crane sees you as a partner.

The man has a sick interest in you, occasionally kissing and holding you while you hallucinate.

Maybe there's times he relents and lowers your dosage... but for the most part, he's in it for the fear.

Maybe he'll even grow to love you without the toxin in your system.

For the most part, Crane's obsession involved indulging in his fear filled fantasies with you.

It's unknown if he's fallen for you... or your fear.

It's hard to see him as caring yet he cares about you to some degree.

For one reason or another... the Scarecrow has fallen for you...

Once he finds you... he doesn't plan on letting you breathe another breath of fresh air if it means he'll see your beautiful fear all of the time... for as long as he wishes.

#yandere dc #yandere dc comics #yandere dc villains #yandere jonathan crane #yandere scarecrow

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finnydraws · 6 months ago

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don't eat that (r.a/reader)

Pairing; Rhett Abbott/Reader

Word count:905

Description: While hiking with Rhett you get to show off your knowledge about the native plants your boyfriend tries to eat

genre(s) slice of life, fluff

warnings: while not explicitly stated, I did write this reader as autistic. While not ALL autistic people are like I've written her, I’ve loosely based her off my own flavor of autism so…. Mention of poisonous plants and their side effects.

Hiking with Rhett was always a trip. Half of the time he packed enough snacks to feed a small village, and the other half you would only get about a quarter way through the hike before he began to complain about being hungry. If it were anyone else asking to go on such a trip Rhett would say no with very little hesitation, but with you looking at him with those eyes he can't help but hide that he's more of a horse rides and working kind of outdoorsy than the willingly walking 5 miles to relook at the cool plants growing around the Abbott ranch kind. Today was an “I'm hungry” day.

Normally at this point you and Rhett would turn around, make lunch and try again another day, but today had been particularly hard for you and he would hate to see your disappointed look at the thought of turning around. So he came up with a different solution. “Hey baby, you wanna go look for some berries with me?” Wyoming forests were good for berries, many growing rampant and wild and just perfect for the taking. The thought of the tangy taste of the native red currants growing all through the forest already making Rhett's mouth water.

And so began the hunt for Rhett's favorite fruit, which mostly consisted of Rhett bringing you fruits that looked VERY different from the hard red berry he should probably recognize. At this point it was comical just how far off he was at identifying a fruit that his mom had cooked with for the majority of his life. For about forty minutes this back and forth of Rhett asking “are these them?” and you responding with a soft “no baby, it's not” only for him to lose a little hope of ever finding something to eat (which he would have 20 minutes ago if he had just listened to you when he held up some very much edible red chokeberries. But when he heard you say they weren't HIS fruit he stopped listening) went on. Until just when Rhett had fully given up hope, and was about to ask you to head back and get a snack, he spotted them. Hiding in the trees, small, round, some orange, and others red, currants.

He grabs the fruit without thinking. Picking as many ripe red berries as he can carry without crushing them in his calloused hands, and excitedly bringing his haul to you. “Baby look! I found ‘em!” He's so excited he barely even waits to confirm the fruit with you before holding one up to his mouth to take a bite.

“DON’T EAT THAT!” You yell before he can. “Don't forget, bittersweet grows out here too, and they look very similar. But bittersweet berries will kill you so quick, and also painfully” you continue. Rhett drops his horde of berries like they were burning him (which now that you pointed them out he did notice the subtle itching, burning feeling in his hands) “bring me to the plant you got this from please.” and so he did, leading you to a large oak tree, with a thick wood vine creeping its way up the tree. Attached are yellowish green,smooth leaves, and orange capsules split into three sections, opening up into the red berry. “These are bittersweet berries baby… they’re part of the nightshade, or Solanaceae, family. If you eat them it can cause headaches, dizziness, abdominal pain, internal bleeding, slowed blood circulation, paralysis and even death” you try to continue your speech about the deadly plant but the sad look on Rhett's face stops you in your tracks.

He looks so defeated, and hungry. “Can we go back baby, ‘m hungry and i don’ wanna get us killed jus’ cause i wan’ food.” you know you can’t argue with his logic, there are more poisonous plants out here than edible ones, and he’s been so sweet continuing the hike despite him wanting to go home that you give in almost immediately. You follow him home, trailing just behind him and still eying the plants you pass, just in case. And then YOU spot them. A low to the ground shrub, with green palmate leaves, with three bluntly toothed lobes.

And red fruits.

“Baby” you call. Yet nothing in response. You try again, a little louder. “Baby. come here.” he does turn around at that, approaching you and eying the small shrub you’re wildly gesturing to. “RED CURRANTS!” Rhett lights up.

“Really? They ain’ those nightshade plants?” he questions, looking at you hopefully.

“Nope!” you say, popping the p. You stick one of the juicy red berries into your mouth for good effect, before making your shirt into a makeshift basket and picking as many ripe ones as you can. “Let's bring them back and make some jam” but Rhett is more preoccupied with stuffing his face with the berries than gathering any for later. He looks cute like this, hunched over the shrub he looks like when a child is given candy on halloween, worried someone will take the sweet treat from him before he can thoroughly enjoy it. You give him a moment to pick the shrub clean, happy to see him feeling better. “Come on now love, let's get you some real food.” Rhett stands up, brushes the dirt from his pants and gives you a small smile.

“Let's go home baby.”

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #lewis pullman #fanfic #self insert

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thelovelyspirit-collab-fics · 1 month ago

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@officialfeysandweek Day 4: Bargains

Read on Ao3

Summary: A fever has been sweeping the village for over a month now, devistating family after family. Already grieving their mother's death days before, Feyre is unwilling to lose her sister from the same fever. Without the help of the village doctors, she's now forced to take a less favorable route.

For her sister, she'll bargain with the fae.

AN: Happy Feysand Week, y'all. It’s @starfall-spirit and you’re watching Disney Channel I’m so happy to share the first chapter of my current collab with @thelovelymadone based off of this text post by @deluxeloy. Enjoy!

Passion is the truest state of the fae spirit. Follow your instincts and act on your impulses. Live life to the fullest without regard to the consequences—they will come about regardless of what you do.

~The Unseelie Code

Chapter I

The evening woods were eerily quiet as Feyre tracked the sound of a nearby stream. The almost-silence was enough to push her closer to the edge of fear, her nerves surrounding that night’s plan doing nothing to help. Because what waited for her when the stream met the lake…

Feyre couldn’t believe she was doing this. And yet, what other choice did she have? The fever had already claimed her mother, now Elain was bedridden too, eyes glazed more often than not, trembling with fever beneath the meager covers she and Nesta had managed to gather.

It had started about a month prior. Though winter had fully yielded to spring, a fever common to colder weather had started spreading among the children playing in the village streets, just as easily carried home to their doting mothers and fathers. Then four children from different homes died, one after the next. Their families had no one to support them in their grieving period.

All because that tragedy had been accompanied by a frightening word of the trusted village doctor: mutation. A virus one could brush off in a few days had turned deadly.

Less than a week ago her mother had shown symptoms, passed them to Elain two days later. If her sister was only meant to last the same span of time, she’d be dead by the next dawn. Even if they had money for a doctor, there were few in their village with true medical training, most of them too frightened of catching the illness to treat it.

Feyre was left with only one option. The Faerie Wood.

The enchanted forest seemed more sinister than enchanting with moonlight as her only guide. It fed that fear born of the tales her childhood nanny had told her some fifteen years ago to keep her in bed.

There is a portal just past our village border, invisible to the human eye, you know. Leads right to the Unseelie Court. It’s High Lord has servants and spies who stand at the veil, searching for naughty children to drag through. You girls best behave, or tomorrow morning it’ll be a few of their changelings waking in your beds.

Feyre and her sisters had stopped associating the kidnappings with household shenanigans a few years later, but that maturity hadn’t completely erased the fact some from their village had gone missing overnight. Whether human or fae, the abductors didn’t seem to favor an age group either. She was never quite sure how to react when she saw the people she’d known since birth wailing at the loss of a spouse who had been lured from their bed or an infant snatched from its cradle.

Would her wish be granted, she wondered, or would she be stolen away before she could voice it, simply for daring to ask?

A cold draft rattled the trees, chilling her down to her bones, far too cold to be considered natural for a spring evening in their region. Consulting her rudimentary map for what felt like the millionth time, she had to assume the biting air had something to do with approaching the Unseelie Gateway—if this was its true location.

The forest lightened then, startling Feyre enough that she paused on the trail, lifting her gaze from the parchment. Dawn was hours out still. The pale light wasn’t from the sun, but… starlight. If she wasn’t in The Faerie Wood, she would have thought she was suffering hallucinations without the fever that accompanied them. But sure enough, stars were lighting the trail like a dusting of breadcrumbs down to the water at the forest’s edge. Confident now she was on the right path, she quickened her pace until she broke the tree line, slightly unsteady when the shed foliage transitioned to pebbles and stones beneath her flimsy boots.

A dozen yards and she’d be at the edge of the lake. If the stories were true, the crystal clear water before her was the gateway itself. Even now, before she reached the edge of the water a faerie would sense her as a trespasser and weigh the question inside of her to deem her worthy of its help or declare her the next victim of some ruthless immortal’s game. If she was being honest with herself, she had no idea whether she wanted all of that to be the truth or utter nonsense. If it was true, at least she’d have a clue what she was getting herself into.

“Of course it’s true, darling. Outlandish as your childhood tales may seem, they need a bit of the truth to become anything significant.” Shaking from head to toe, Feyre frantically scanned the forest and waters to locate the voice seeming to pour in from every direction. “Here, darling.”

Finally pinpointing the voice, she watched a man—if a faerie could be called something so simple—materialize from a pocket of shadows, the slightest smirk she sensed he often wore illuminated by the waxing moon.

She couldn’t help but stare, taking in the high cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders his clean cut jacket was unable to hide. He was tall, too. Enough so that she’d be forced to tilt her head back of he closed the few yards between them to get a better look at her. Not that he’d need to, with faerie senses being significantly better than those of a human.

Terrified—and worse than that, flustered beneath his undivided attention—Feyre couldn’t begin to think of a proper way to show deference. She fell back on instinct, dropping into a clumsy curtsy even the snap of a rod had never been able to perfect.

“I come in need of a favor,” she said simply, not wanting to risk offending the man by addressing him with the wrong title. Surely the curtsy had been safe. Dressed like that, carrying himself tall, he had to be some sort of gentleman or noble among his kind. Then again, most gentlemen she’d met weren’t built like a soldier in service. “My sister needs help.”

He cocked his head. “Come closer, darling. I can hardly hear you.” She stayed rooted to the spot. How easy would it be for a man like that to pull her beneath the surface of the glassy lake? Drown her or drag her down into his world of wicked things? No, she’d be staying right where she stood. “Have it your way.”

Just like that he folded into a flurry of shadow, reappearing mere feet in front of her, hand tucked casually into his pockets. It took everything in her not to scramble away. “Now, tell me more, pet.”

“My sister is ill. She’ll be dead by morning. I want to bargain for her life. If you’d be so gracious,” she tacked on.

He considered her request for a moment, seeming to study her more than anything. “Most young woman are warned against these woods.” He leaned forward slightly. “Yet you’re here intentionally, asking to bargain. My, things must be dire.” She swallowed hard. “Just what are you willing to offer, darling?”

“I don’t…” It had to be a fool’s choice to tell a faerie to craft the bargain to his own liking, but Feyre had a fair idea of what men usually wanted and she highly doubted the man she now faced had any desire for mortal coin or the intimate company of a human woman. She wasn’t sure she could puzzle out something that interested him, being so unsure of faerie customs.

“Could I simply owe you a favor?” she offered, hoping and praying that would provide a solution for the time being and wouldn’t bite her in the ass further down the road. “To call in when you require assistance.”

He chuckled and the little flame of hope winked out. “Darling, you’re asking me to help you defy the nature of life. It’s going to cost you more than a favor. No, I fear this bargain will require something a bit more… substantial.” Feyre crossed her arms, but held her stance. “Your firstborn,” he purred.

She blinked, lost for words. “Excuse me?”

“Your firstborn child is the price I demand.”

“That—” She bit her lip, finally retreating a step. She couldn’t think with him so close, the combination of his salt and citrus scent and unyielding stare unnerving. “I never intended to marry, let alone have children,” she admitted.

“You wouldn’t change your mind on that to save your sister’s life? And you humans call my kind cruel.”

“I didn’t say—” Feyre huffed. “If that is the price, I will pay it.”

“Very well, darling.” There was a sharp tingling up her right arm. From her fingertips to her elbow a black swirling pattern crawled up her arm, the color much like tattoo ink. Before she could express her anger at being marked against her will the design vanished, leaving her arm bare once again. “The ink of the Unseelie Court can only be seen in the land of Faerie.”

Raw dread chilled her down to the bone. “You intend to take me there?” Feyre asked. He raised a brow. “For the, um, conception?”

~~~~~

Rhys had no reason to bring the girl into his domain. He’d had no intention of claiming her beyond the bargain mark, if he was being honest. He assumed when making his proposal that she would find a nice man in the village to father the child and that would be that. Despite what rumors claim, most of the stolen children lived fulfilling lives among the court. Occasionally things got out of hand with the crueler crowd, but the same could be said of humans who kept servants and entertainers.

But dear Feyre had interpreted the bargain incorrectly, assuming he meant to drag her to his bed. Studying the human once again, it was far too easy to imagine her carrying his heir. And then a few more to follow. He could pretend he had a decision to make, but deep down, he already knew the path was decided.

“Your sister’s health has been restored. Your family and neighbors will forget the illness ever burdened her, though there’s nothing I can do to bring back your mother.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

“You will let me escort you to the Court tonight. After the child is born you can decide whether you wish to return to the human world or live among the Unseelie to raise the child.”

A strange sort of tension settled between them. He imagined leaving the child behind would be difficult, even if she didn’t desire a family.

Even if she thought the babe to be more monster than human.

“How are…” Feyre crossed her arms, curling in on herself a bit. “How are humans treated there? Poorly, I imagine. I just want to prepare myself for the worst.”

Rhys closed the distance between them in two strides, lifting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again. “My guests, Feyre darling, are treated with respect.” He let his grip tighten ever so slightly before bending to brush his lips along the shell of her ear. “No one touches what belongs to the High Lord.”

#feysand #feysandweek2024 #feysand week #thelovelyspirit #collaborative fanfiction #feysand fic #day 4: bargains #acotar #Magic Madness Heaven Sin

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