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nvuy · 8 months ago

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oh, the eldritch horror! — scar

summary. venturing out in the woods to clear your head was supposed to be relaxing, so why is this twisted abominable nightmare of a beast growling in your face?

notes. i rewatched shrek because i was bored and i snatched the donkey & dragon scene right out of it. but like, instead of a dragon, it’s literally baphomet. does this count as monsterfucking bc idkkk… anyway yeah it’s like scar but his goat form. i thought it would be funny. this is just painfully self indulgent.

idk wtf is going on in wuwa but my brain shut down when this loser came on screen and started ranting about shepherds and sheep. whatever you say beautiful.

warnings. scar, very minimal crack (it’s inspired by shrek. idk what to say bro…)

This has to be the worst day of your life.

The creature snaps its drooling jaw in your face.

It looks like a goat from Hell. Like a black sheep that’s wandered from its herd. You can’t see much of its face, but the ginormous pair of curled horns are sharp at the edges. The cartilage could easily slit your throat in half if you were to make one wrong move and lean in too close.

Four yellow beady eyes glare at you, way too close to your face. You can see your warped reflection along rectangular pupils. Giant ears peeled back towards its skull, pierced with two matching golden earrings in the shape of crosses that are the size of your hands.

You laugh nervously in its face.

Oh, god, it’s going to eat you alive. You know it.

You try to take a step back, but you’re met with the roots of a tree at your feet and the trunk digging harshly into your back.

Bad idea. Oh, this was all a bad idea. The bad luck streak should’ve been an indicator right from this morning: you slept through your alarm and were subsequently late for work, you fell over twice at work, you lost your house keys, and then you decided to clear your head and go for a walk.

You ended up venturing off deeper into the trees to search for herbs to help back at the clinic in Jinzhou. You don’t even know which direction the city is anymore.

And now, there’s a creature—and it can’t be a Tacet Discord—growling and snapping its teeth in your face. It’s huge. It’s way too big to be absorbed, let alone actually taken down with brute force. Whacking it with a stick certainly didn’t help.

All that did was manage to slash a decent gash into one of its hind legs and anger it even further.

It snarls at you.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple.

Uh oh.

“Oh, what large teeth you have!” Your voice comes out shaky, and you’re trembling as you stare up at it.

A low guttural noise escapes from the depths of its throat, and its jaw unhinges.

Your eyes pinch shut. “I-I mean, white, sparkling, teeth!” You let out a nervous huff of laughter, your words almost incoherent. “I know you probably hear this all the time from your food, but, you must take really good care of those pearly whites, ‘cause that is one dazzling smile you’ve got there!”

The creature’s slitted eyes narrow in suspicion. Its jaw snaps closed as it pulls only a few inches away from your burning skin.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your hands.

You clear your throat. “I’m so grateful that your beautiful smile will be the last thing I ever see. Y’know… when you eat me… ‘cause I’m sure you must be hungry!” You prattle on and on, and your knees are weak and wobbly. “Not that you have to eat me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, but– yeah! So grateful!”

You were praying to whatever Gods could hear you that your mindless babbling saved your life. Or some superhero came through and took this thing down in one swing.

The giant creature seems to preen at your words. Its sharp teeth retreat behind a now closed mouth. Its horn suddenly don’t appear as sharp as they were before, and the curl of them against the creature’s skull look softer and more defined. They were different to the ghastly sharp edges you saw before.

Your legs can’t keep still. Your hands interlock in front of you to try and quell the shaking. Your bones feel like they’re vibrating beneath your skin.

You try to control your breathing. “Beautiful hair–fur, by the way.” You raise a finger to point at the greyish locks behind its horns. For such a mangy beast, its hair looked a bit silky. Maybe unwashed, and it was full of twigs, but slightly soft. “And I smell a hint of berry…” Lie. “…Did you… wash it?”

Stupid question.

You try to control your breathing.

Maybe the beast isn’t a beast. Maybe it’s a nice creature cursed with being ugly.

The creature is still eyeing you.

Can it understand you? Or is it trying to survey whether you’re a threat or not? You can’t tell. You heard somewhere that dogs don't like when people look them in the eyes. You didn’t even know if that was true.

The correlation is stupid, regardless. This beast is far from even remotely resembling the canis genus.

Its head is huge, even when its jaw is shut. Its nostrils are the size of your hand, and it breathes puffs of hot air in your face. You reel back further into the tree. Your stomach drops impossibly lower than it already has. Your skin is soaked in sweat.

The creature bumps its nose against your sternum and inhales sharply.

You glance to the left.

Is it… smelling you? Is it trying to figure out if you’re edible? Oh, Gods, then you’re embarrassing stalling would have been for nothing. What a day. As if it couldn’t get any worse than it already had been.

You can't outrun it. It’s huge. By the time you’ve sprinted ten feet away it can simply lean over and pluck you by the back of your collar and pop you into its mouth.

Your insides churn at the thought. You were afraid you’d hunch over and vomit out of fear on the creature’s face.

Bad plan? Maybe then it wouldn’t eat you, at least. Or maybe it would. You were afraid to take the chances, and swallow the bile rising up your throat.

Its oddly bent arms smash into the dirt on either side of you. A low garble echoes in its throat and bubbles with saliva.

It sounds like a croak of sorts.

The lamb creature bumps its sharp snout into your stomach. Those beady eyes blink—you notice it has vertical eyelids. Gross. It’s like a giant lizard, almost.

Its teeth are gone for the moment, though, so it offers you a moment of reprieve. Or maybe it’s trying to calm you down so your blood tastes sweeter, or something. Sweat continues to roll down your neck, and you swallow the giant lump in your throat.

The red sashes of the torn clothes on its back pull with its form, ripping at the seams even more.

Your eyes flit nervously to the wound on its leg. It’s a small smear of crimson against grey fur, barely noticeable, and you’re sure the creature can’t even feel the sudden pain from it anymore. It seems to be walking fine, and it does not exhibit any discomfort when it shifts its weight to each hoof.

You wince when you spot the gnarly gash you left on it.

The lump in your throat doesn’t dislodge.

You try to ignore it.

The creature’s long neck pulls into view again. It’s watching you silently.

You figure if it wanted to eat you, it would have done so already. Hopefully you seemed inedible to it. Maybe it was an omnivore or something—but those sharp teeth were definitely not just for chewing on leaves and berries in the wild.

Morphed fingers dig deeper into the dirt beside your feet.

You stare into its eyes.

Its still eyeing you.

Huh.

It’s… curious. It blinks slowly, one eye at a time, as you slowly, and so slowly, slower than you’ve ever moved in your life, raise your hands.

Then, you navigate around its giant leg beside you and step towards the gash on its hind leg. Your foot tramples onto a twig and it snaps loudly. The creature watches you with lidded eyes, but there’s a flash of teeth in warning. You gulp.

You kneel before its wounded leg and pull your satchel from around your waist.

The creature does nothing. Its teeth disappear behind its mouth again.

“Sorry,” you whisper with a wince. You hope it can understand you’re not a threat. Maybe it’s scared of you. Wouldn’t that be a spectacle? A giant predator, some eldritch abomination in the middle of the woods, scared of a little flesh bag. “Um… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared, y’see?”

You had meant to hurt it, but you’d spit little white lies if they saved your life.

The creature blinks creepily again. That uneven slow blink, like a frog.

You’re more disturbed than anything. You’re amazed that ginormous tongue locked behind its teeth hasn’t come forth to lick its sclera wet yet. Then you’d be more convinced.

You try not to let it show. “But, um…” You dig around in your satchel before you pull out a small glass vial. “I have something that might help.” The vial is made of a crystal glass with a cork in the rim. The liquid inside is a deep blue, like the blueberries growing on the nearby bushes, or like thick ink.

The creature lowers its great head down towards the bottle.

It stares at your hands expectantly before trying to sniff around the glass.

Hesitantly, you remove the cork and hold the rim closer to one of its nostrils. It most certainly doesn't smell good; it’s made up of a mixture of herbs and alcohol, but you know for a fact it does a damn good job at shielding wounds from infection. It was fool-proof medicine; you made it. And you don’t settle for less than perfection.

The creature seems displeased with the scent for it seems to flinch away from the rim. It does not swat the medicine, but it turns its head away.

It looks grumpy.

“It might help the bleeding.” It will help the bleeding. You know it will. It will heal the entire wound. But, you didn’t come here to gloat, so you keep your lips zipped shut. “It’ll sting, though.”

The creature makes a noise. It does not sound like a warning, nor an acceptance of your words. It’s simply an acknowledgement, like a toneless hum, but you also don’t speak eldritch lamb, so you could be far from the truth. For all you knew, it was hyping itself up to open its mouth around your head or take off into the trees.

Alas, it does neither of those things.

It sits back on its hind legs despite its wound and then falls into the grass.

Its eyes shut and it stills.

You blink in wonder.

Did it… die?

Nope. It’s still breathing. Its nostrils flare with every breath. There’s a giant pitiful feeling of disappointment, but at the same time, a smaller pang of relief in your stomach.

Your hand reaches out to touch the tender and raw skin around its wound.

The creature remains still. Maybe it’s sleeping. It did chase you around the forest for a good long while.

You hum. It’s like a giant dog, you think. Like a scary, huge, dog.

You take loose cloth from your satchel and dab the medicine generously into the cotton until it soaks it thoroughly. You don’t have anything to properly clean the wound with, but it will have to do. You do have a wrap of bandages, though, and it’s better than nothing.

Gingerly, you press the soaked cloth to the tip of the wound.

The creature blinks its eyes open and snarls.

You try again in the spot next to it, gently pulling any flecks of dirt you see from the gash.

It hisses then, low and horrible, and you flinch away. It watches you cautiously, hind leg pulled towards itself protectively.

“I just need to clean it,” you say desperately. You know there’s a pleaful gleam in your eyes.

The beast tilts its great head towards you before it snorts and rests down on the grass again.

When you press the cloth back to its wound, it makes a noise, but it does flinch.

So, you work gently. Slowly, like you’re treading through thick murky waters. It feels that way. The creature puffs annoyed noises through its nose, but you dutifully ignore it, watching the shimmer of the medicine in the evening sunlight to make sure it was spread evenly over the gash.

When you’re satisfied, you take its giant hoof in your lap and wrap the bandages around its leg. The size of its calf takes up almost all of the roll, but you make it work, tucking the ends into the wrap. The creature does not deter away from the treatment.

You hope it isn’t too tight.

It’ll give the beast another good reason to close its jaw around your head.

The creature blinks its gross eyes open again, those rectangular pupils drawing thinner. It’s surveying the bandaging like it’s foreign; it probably is, given the creature has probably never received treatment in its life. You notice the ghastly scars drawn over its face.

Still, you’re frightened. The noises that pour from its throat are guttural and flagrant. It’s still huge, even as it lays in the grass. When it raises its head, it’s still taller than you.

You feel a drop of sweat slip down your spine.

It probably hasn’t eaten you because you smell unappetising. You’re thankful, internally.

You stay knelt in the grass, dirt staining your pants as you watch the creature warily.

Then, it coos. It’s snout bumps into your stomach and it coos. You flinch away from the noise, hands raised near your head defensively. Why is it cooing? Does it like you? That’s better than hating you, at least. The creature huffs and puffs against your stomach, and washes of hot air waver over your sweaty face.

You shakily rest a palm on the top of its snout, mindful of the deep scars.

The creature only stares blankly.

Huh. “You’re not so bad.” You swallow nervously. “You’re sort of like a giant puppy.”

The creature lets off a low garble. It sounds innocent, like a passing noise of pleasantries. Like it’s enjoying your attention.

Your hand smooths over the strange fur. It’s coarse between your fingers, withered with age and scars, but it still somehow retains a slight softness. It’s nice. It smells suspiciously like livestock, but that’s better than smelling of blood and sinew.

The creature drowns in the feeling of your hand against its head. The gold earrings are cold against your skin.

Then, it reels back.

You almost jump when its mouth moves towards your face before a long and slimy tongue drags up your cheek. You almost gag as saliva drips from your skin, but you try not to let it show. You shiver instead, mostly out of disgust.

The creature seems pleased though.

You’re glad to be of service. And to still be alive.

Nice puppy.

You try to ignore the slime stuck to your skin as you thumb over the creature’s horns. They’re enormous, much larger than the width of your arm, but the cartilage is so delicate, and you notice chips in the black curls.

It bumps its nose into your sternum and makes a noise.

When you say nothing, it makes the same noise, but it’s drawn out and higher, more irritated. Petrified, you stumble back slightly. You have a clear shot of running now. There’s no trees trapping you with this thing. You could try and make a beeline towards where you think Jinzhou is.

The creature stares expectantly. There’s a slow kiss of a blink, and hot puffs of air fan over your face and send jitters down your spine.

“I don’t– um…” You try to settle your trembling. “I’m not understanding–”

The great creature lets out a frustrated huff, and lowers its head towards you. You think not to place your sweaty palm on its snout for pets again. It doesn’t seem to warrant them at that moment, either.

It’s getting dark now, and you’re growing nervous again. Does it grow violent in the night? Is it warning you? Oh, God, maybe it’s going to pounce.

A cloying scent fills your nose. Your eyes refocus from the tears that melt along your bottom lashes.

You watch, mortified, as the creature warps.

Those giant hooves shrink in size, followed by an engorging shadow of smoke and red dust like sand. It burns your eyes and floods your lungs wrong, and you cough, fanning your face desperately. It stinks. It smells like metals and burnt soil. This mustn’t be good for your health, inhaling all this stuff.

The creature horns curl smaller until they disappear. You can’t see much of it, but what you can see is almost disturbing. It looks painful. The silhouette of the great beast continues to shrink, and those beautiful tresses of white and grey hair curl along what can be assumed to be a more normal looking face.

Its silhouette vaguely resembles a human, but there’s much too little to see you’re not quite sure. Black ripples down those long arms and pulls away the fur covering them.

There’s the snapping and straightening of bones. You almost puke at the sound. You force yourself to look away. Sweat pools in your throat like an oasis.

When you find the courage to glance back, the shadows then peel away from the inky red fog and dust.

You gulp.

It’s a man.

It’s the beast, and you know it is because the scars on the creature’s head match the lines and pulls of his skin. He’s devoid of fur now, and his hair is dramatically shorter, small curls imitating those giant black horns twisting around the now fleshy lobes of his ears and his neck.

His clothes are the same. Ruined and tattered, but still that red coat. His shirt is caked in dirt and his pants are torn where the gash is. It’s still covered by the rolls of bandages.

He is on his hands and knees in the grass. He looks exhausted, like he’s trying to recover from the most painful transformation you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

“Um…” It’s the only thing that can seem to form coherently from your mouth.

A grin cracks onto the man’s face. “Hi.”

You nod slowly in a greeting.

Your spine snaps rod straight in fright.

The man stands to his feet slowly. His bones crack and continue snapping as he moves, and he lets off an annoyed sigh before he stretches and pulls knots from his joints.

Then, he suddenly looks alive. “That’s better. God, have you ever been trapped in your own body?” You briskly shake your head, to which he scoffs playfully and continues, “‘course you haven’t! Silly me.”

“Are you–” You feel stupid for asking, but there’s something forcing you to say it. “Are you a Tacet Discord?”

The man’s face morphs to answer your question. “Do I look like a Tacet Discord?”

Well. He did. About five minutes ago. It takes effort not to respond with irked quips, eyes flitting towards your satchel that’s still resting by his feet where you had left it.

He notices you staring at it and kneels down to pick it up. The thin strap you swing around your body is pulled over one of his fingers like the bag is a foreign object entirely.

You figure he might try and rummage inside. He won’t find much if he plans to rob you.

Instead, his eyes narrow playfully at you. “You are so interesting.” He grips the strap of your bag tight and takes one calculative step forward. “Usually, humans bore me. They’re all cut from the same meat platter, after all.

“But, you…” A pleased, airy little giggle escapes his throat. “Oh, I like you.”

Oh, this is very bad.

That smile on his face says it all.

Very, very bad.

You sucked up way too much to the beast.

You’re in for it now.

You laugh awkwardly in return. You’re not flattered in the slightest.

You hoped the world ended at that very moment. That would fix the problem.

You clear your throat quickly. “I appreciate you not eating me, sir. Really, I do! But I need to get going now. It’s getting dark, y’see, and… and it’s not safe for me to be walking around in the dark…” You’re stalling again. It worked the first time. You hope it works here again.

That doesn’t appear to be the case.

The man watches you closely.

“C-could I have my bag back?” You curse yourself for letting the waver in your voice slip. It sounds hopeless.

As expected, he only snorts. “Nope.” He swings it over his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

You really need your stuff.

Your feet remain planted into the floor.

He’s scary. His smile isn’t normal. The scars pulling around his eyes make it so much worse, too.

His head tilts curiously to the side. He’s walking right towards you now. His eyes rapidly move from your face down to your legs, surveying every inch of you he could.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear.

“What’s your name, little lamb?”

Your heart spikes in your chest. He’ll follow you right back to the city, you know it. You can see it in his eyes, and his expression—where’s that stick to swat him off? Your eyes frantically search the ground as you move for some sort of branch to stave him off.

Your hands raise in front of you to keep him away, but of course your little frail body isn’t going to deter him in the slightest.

If anything, he only coos again.

You tell him your name reluctantly when your foot stumbles over a stray root. You don’t topple over. You can’t imagine what would happen to you if you had to start crawling away from him.

He repeats it once.

Then, his grin softens. “I like it.” It looks relatively normal now, like he’s not about to dig his teeth into your flesh. They’ve straightened up from how sharp they were prior, but you’re sure those canines could do enough damage. “I like you. You’re so nice. So small. So silly.”

You swallow hard.

He says nothing else.

Your brows knit together in worry. “What’s your name?”

His eyes flit down to himself as if he’s wracking his brain to remember. Then, he says, “Scar.”

Underwhelming. It’s like calling a kitten ‘Cat.’ You don’t voice your disappointment. At least his name is simple, and easy to remember.

Your eyes swarm to his bandaged leg.

He’s not even limping. The gash seems like nothing but a fleeting thought.

The man, Scar, hums thoughtfully, a nail pointed onto his cheek. “It’s not everyday you find a little white lamb away from its flock. It would be unwise to give you up to the other creatures in the forest.”

You swallow whatever courage you have left in your bones. “I don’t need protection, but thank you.”

He can keep your satchel. You are out of here.

You turn away from him this time and continue walking forward.

“Oh, but didn’t you just say it’s not safe for you to be out here in the dark?” His words taper off into a chuckle. His smile twists into something grotesque again. His arms are pulled open into some sort of mocking await of an embrace. “Come, little one. I promise I am gentle.”

You don’t believe him.

You’re sweating again. Hot ash clings into your lungs. You stifle the urge to choke on your spit in fear.

Your head turns back to watch him, suddenly alarmed. Gooseflesh raises on your arms.

Stupid.

Your foot catches onto a thick protruding root in the dirt again, but this time you do stumble to the floor. Your head smashes against the ground but you can’t pay it too much mind. You’re panicked, and ice rushes through your veins like blood.

You push yourself up instantly, but he’s quicker, and a foot stamps down onto your calf. It doesn’t hurt, no, but it’s firm enough to keep you there.

His knees hit the dirt on either side of your legs and you’re cornered. You try to sit up to the best of your ability, but he tuts as if he’s reprimanding a child. “Now, now. You’ve hit your head. You could be seriously hurt, y’know?”

“‘M fine!” You push on his chest when he leans down far too close to inspect you. “Get off!”

There’s no physical damage except for a small welt. You feel dizzy, but that’s to be expected.

There’s something alight in his eyes.

Excitement.

This is a game to him.

Scar lets you sit up, though he’s still very much straddling your lap.

That same wobbly grin pulls onto his lips.

Oh, gross. You should never have treated his wounds. Now he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him. You’ve caused some great beast to grow delusional because you wanted to be nice.

You’re never stopping to help lonely animals in the forest ever again.

You swear you see hearts bubble and pop from his head when he blinks at you. He hums a small giggle before his arms wrap around your neck and draw his chest into yours.

He squeezes you tight and you buzz with the excitement that radiates off his skin in heat waves. More and more hearts float from his head, and you’re sure his pupils are a shape to match.

“I want to keep you.”

He squishes his cheek against yours.

“Uh…” What the hell else do you say? Especially to this thing that’s swamped over you like a giant teddy bear. You can’t even breathe.

“So small. Are humans usually this tiny? And you’re so warm–”

You claw at his arms. His grip loosens over your neck.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. Instead, he looks intrigued and experimentally squeezes around your throat again. “Oh. I always forget just how fragile humans are.”

You sigh in defeat.

Oh, boy.

This is going to be a long night.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa scar #wuthering waves scar #wuwa scar x reader #scar x reader #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )

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targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

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— THUNDERSTRUCK!

pairings: luke castellan x daughterofzeus!reader, percy jackson x fem!reader (platonic & half-siblings)

summary: the one where percy’s babysitter ends up at camp with him, and may or may not be the child of a certain stormy man as well as falling in love with a thief (of her heart & other things).

warnings: fluff, percy takes on the brotherly role, protective perce, flirting, violence, protective reader over percy, possessive luke thoughts, kisses, makeoutish, timegap

wordcount: 4.2k (i went crazy)

a/n: i think i’ve seen this film before— (thalia wya) since a lot of people love protective percy/persassy! hope you like it!! i listened to it whilst making it sooooo i recommend!

taglist: @apollos-calliope @purplerose291 @loveyava @ohh-to-be-rich-and-pretty @iluvthemoonandthestars @chr1sgirl4life @liv1104 @fairycheol @coryoskywalker@perseus-jackass @hottiewifeyyyy @lizheartsyou @repostingmyfavs @lovelyforesst

you and percy had experienced so much in the last days, now at a random camp, that had been scarcely explained to you by sally and grover as the four of you made your way to camp.

beforehand, you’d been finishing up on your last school assignment when a knock on your door drew you from your laptop, then percy barged his way into your apartment soaking wet. “oh! okay what the hell? percy aren’t you freezing? what’re you doing here?” you’d since placed your laptop on the coffee table, jogging over to the door as percy smiled up at you, “montauk baby!”

you laughed, “montauk?” he nodded as you grinned, “i’ll be down in five, you are so lucky my flatmates aren’t here they’d make you scrub the wet floors.” once you were out of view, percy made it a point to shake his body and hair, droplets of water dispersing around the apartment. he hated your flatmates, two annoying boys who loved to stare at you. luckily you were too busy hauling ass with your backpack and gym bag, stuffed full of clothes and snacks.

sally greeted you with a smile, a hug and a kiss on the forehead, “how are you sweetheart?” your smile was practically blinding, “very excited, let’s hit the road!”

you’d already begun to tune out whilst sally explained, godly parentage and all. but not out of spite or confusion, only sadness. one of your parents weren’t actually your parent. whilst it seemed that your father was the obvious candidate, goddesses did exist as well. percy had never really been with his father let alone grown up with him for 18 years, so it was different for him than it was for you.

as if that wasn’t enough, grover being split in half as a goat had you rubbing your eyes, hoping for a different outcome when you opened them again, sorely disappointed when greeted with hooves and fur.

but nothing could have prepared you for watching sally’s demise. having had a hand in raising you, loving and shaping you into the amazing woman you were now, and now she was dust. snapping back into the moment a tad late, the sight of percy fighting the beast caused your heart to beat a thousand miles quicker.

“perce!” you’d tried to aid him, pulled back by grover, whom you’d recently learned was actually 24. in another, less serious moment, maybe you would’ve listened to your elder and his pleas for you not to interfere. your feet carried you to percy and the minotaur, grabbing a nearby rock you threw it as a distraction, momentarily drawing its attention. percy then stabbed it with its own horn, reducing it to dust as he fell down and you held him.

“please, please stay awake. stay with me perce.” you clutched onto him, but your pleas went unheard as grover’s did with you. his eyes fluttered to a close, but not before you heard him whisper, “mom?” your heart clenched at the misunderstanding.

you stuck by him the whole time, when chiron and the others found you, whilst he was in the infirmary, you stayed by his side. when grover promised you that he’d be there for percy, and urged you to eat and take a walk, you relented.

the dark haired boy had his head down whilst walking, in his head he’d been contemplating whether or not he wanted to visit the newcomers. which he did either way. he ran right into you, as you met the ground and he profusely apologised, “i’m so sorry, i wasn’t watching where i was— going.” it was rare for luke castellan to be at a loss for words, but as he met your eye he didn’t care. you were undeniably gorgeous, messy y/h/c hair, sweet yet drained eyes, and a small smile drawn on your lips.

“you’re… so fine. like, as in— you’re okay. it’s okay, we both didn’t watch ourselves. not that i’m blaming you! just—,” you breathed out as he grinned, “i’m luke… castellan, head counsellor of hermes cabin.” you giggled as he scratched the back of his head, “i could’ve left off the last part huh?” he didn’t want to come off as bragging, but it did seem like he was. you scrunched your nose and eyes, “yeah, probably.”

he lent his arm to you, hauling you up. “i know my name, you know my name, you know your name. seems like i’m the odd one out.” luke grinned as you laughed, the two of you found it easy to talk to one another, “i’ll tell you, when you’ve earned it.” shrugging your shoulders, you turned on your heel heading for the infirmary.

luke stood behind and watched, his voice was distant but still loud enough for you, “what do i have to do to earn it?” you shook your head, quickly turning back to him to shout out, “if i tell you, then you won’t chase after me will you?” your smile was imprinted in luke’s head, he only wanted to see it more often, you more often. and he sure as hell wasn’t above a chase.

the rest of the day was spent settling you and percy in. once he’d awoken, he immediately asked after his mother, but of course that wasn’t possible.

your presence was the only thing that percy knew, helping him calm down. the two of you were completely new in a place where the people around you seemed to have been at forever. and whilst you’d barely talked the people around you, they all spoke about the pair of you.

your journey had seemed to reach the ears of all the campers, including a certain ares girl.

clarisse whole heartedly believed percy to have lied about his encounter with the minotaur, for whatever reason. you’d found that out when luke was taking percy on a tour, whilst you’d been talking to chiron about settling percy in.

on your way back you’d noticed her talking to him.

“you want attention around here dummy? better be ready for it when it comes.” she snickered as percy stumbled backwards, but not before you steadied him from behind. “you okay perce?” he nodded whilst you surveyed him for any injuries, once you’d deemed him to be okay, you pushed him behind you.

percy’s troubled past was not foreign to you, teasing and bullies and expulsions galore. you’d never held it against him, percy was your brother, and you knew who he was. he was kind, and funny, a joke up his sleeve at all times, wide eyed and curious of his surroundings, fiercely loyal and friendly to those he loved. at times his mouth got him in trouble, but at the end of the day, he was always your perce. the one who’d always ditch school to take care of you when you were sick, the one who glared and protected you against your roommates, the same perce who puked for hours when sally and you had indulged him in blue foods for his birthday. he was your brother, you couldn’t protect him at times, but you’d be damned if you let it happen right infront of you.

“he’s twelve, twelve years old. how old are you? you might think it’s hilarious to bully new kids around, but i sure as hell don’t. stay away from him.” clarisse scoffed, crossing her arms, “i don’t like liars, he is a liar. and so are you. admit you faked the minotaur killing.” it was your turn to scoff, “it happened, why the hell would we lie about it? get over yourself honestly, are we continuing the tour or what?” luke clicked his tongue, “see you around clarisse.”

he could tell you weren’t in the best mood so he took it upon himself to make you smile, “how much do you want to bet he ends up poking someone’s eye out?” you and luke stood side by side as percy adjusted his protective glasses, attempting to weld. “how much do you want to bet he starts a fire?”

as the three of you ran out your laughs mixed in with luke, “pay up!” percy scrunched his eyebrows, “you bet on me? that’s rude.” you ruffled his hair as he swatted your hand away, “as if you could do any better Y/N.” luke smiled at the slip of your name whilst you groaned, “guess i didn’t have to earn it.” luke whispered into your ear. percy didnt like the close proximity, so he injected himself in between you two.

the rest of the day was spent trying to find what percy was good at, and then laughing at his failed attempts. then percy being annoyed at you and luke.

you’d stuck by percy’s side the whole day to which he protested, “i can be alone for a minute yknow?” the two of you were currently walking back from dinner, “okay, one, two—,” he threw his head back and groaned, “you know what i mean.” your hand rested on percy’s shoulder, “i’ll give you some time okay? just make sure you get back to the cabin before curfew, i think it’s going to rain.” percy nodded, walking off to wherever.

but you weren’t alone for long.

“so, how’d i do?” luke took up the space percy had occupied moments ago, “what do you mean?” he walked infront of you before turning around, “did i earn it? your name?” the smile on your face was hard to fight as you averted your gaze to ground, face beginning to heat up at his smile, “i’d say yes, but percy told you my name anyways. but you did also earn something else.”

“and what’s that?”

“my company.”

luke liked the idea of that, “well then, i’ll do my best to deserve it. do you want to take a walk with me?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “isn’t curfew soon?” his hand was outstretched towards you, reminiscent of your first meeting, “lucky for you, i’m somewhat above the average camper.”

and so you took his hand, time and along the way his breath. just looking at you was enough to make him happy, the bitterness buried deep as he listened in for your laugh. admiring you in the moonlight, committing your face to memory.

your stomach hurt, bad.

the only times you laughed this hard were with percy. “there’s no way! you caught them trying to make out, twice?” luke nodded, “in the same night, basically infront of everyone. they’re both only eleven, so i’m guessing their understanding of relationships and privacy doesn’t span far.” you buried your face in your hands as luke shook his head, “uh-uh, if i’m talking to you, i need to see all of you.” you both sat at the dining pavilion, facing each other.

it only made you resort to hiding in between your knees next, “i can’t! i look crazy.” luke’s hands came to your wrists in an attempt to pry them away, which was successful, but then you hid by your knees. he did think about prying theme apart, but then blood shot to his face when he realised how sexual it was. so he rested his hands on your knees, which made you peek up at him. his eyes bore into yours, unrelenting and unashamed.

“you look gorgeous, all the time. and i seriously can’t hold a conversation with you if i can’t see your pretty face.” his words caused you to rise, legs coming down to rest on either side of the bench, “pretty huh? and what do you know about pretty girls?” luke crossed his arms as he smirked, “not much, just that i’m looking at the best one.” you smacked his chest, “god you’re such a flirt.” the two of you rose up from the table as luke smiled, “how can i not when you’re right here?”

you took in a deep breath, not expecting it to trap itself in your throat. you were alone, for once. you were alone. with an exceptionally strong, sweet, lovely guy, who seemed to have an affinity for you.

luke was revelling in your shyness, the more he got to know you the more he wanted to be with you. not only were you kind, but you stood your ground. even with clarisse, the second she targeted percy you stood in between the two. it was one of the many things he liked about you. he also liked the idea of stepping a little closer, maybe touching your face, kissing you?

as much as you wanted to get closer to him, you weren’t sure of yourself. and if it was past curfew then you couldn’t help but wonder if percy was safe and sound. “we should head back!” you spun around and began walking whilst luke sighed, “yeah, we should.”

you expected for him to either;

a) not be there

b) be asleep

c) be making his way back

not for him to be in the bathroom, held by clarisse and her friends shouting for you, “y/n!”

“let him go! now!” you screamed as you ran towards him, but clarisse held onto your arm, “he needs to learn his lesson.” you laughed, this girl and her stubbornness needed to be studied, “what the hell is wrong with you? my god he didn’t fake anything! he’s a poor kid who saw his own mother disappear infront of him! he’s terrified!” clarisse was strong, you’d give her a point for that.

but she ignited an ungodly amount of anger in your body. you pulled against her to get to percy as the storm outside made its presence known as you screamed, “let go!” thunder rattled through the air, striking outside the door, as clarisse and the girls were hurtled back by water. you immediately ran to percy, “are you okay? did they hurt you? i swear i’m going to—,” percy cut your rambling off with a tight hug, “you came.” the tears in your eyes fell free as you held onto him, “you called.”

annabeth stood at the door with luke whilst percy interrogated her, “are you stalking me annabeth?” their conversation was drowned out as luke made his way over to you, “are you okay?” he surveyed you for any outstanding differences, a cut or two. “i’m okay, i’m fine. thank you luke, i just need to get percy in bed. i’ve had enough of this camp for a day.”

you were on auto drive, the only thing on your mind was getting percy to your cabin, the ghost of a kiss you’d left on luke’s lips as you hurried out of the place didn’t register until you were in bed. luke seemed to enter years later, quiet steps to his bed alerting you. “luke?” your voice was hushed whilst calling out for him, aware of the other campers, “y/n?” he was in bed now, sat up.

“d’you mind if i—?” you gestured towards him and his mattress as his eyes lit up in recognition, “oh. oh! yeah.” you awkwardly shuffled into his bed, knees touching his as you sat facing one another, “do you wanna—?” “i’m sorry for…” the two of you overlapped, after a beat of silence just meeting his eye caused you two to break out in hushed giggles and laughter.

“i kissed you, very randomly. i’m sorry luke.” he shook his head and smiled, “it’s fine, i liked it.” your eyebrows travelled up as you straightened your back, “you.. you didn’t mind?” his hands held onto yours, “not at all, i haven’t known you long, and you haven’t known me. but i want to continue getting to know you sweetheart.”

your smile could’ve stretched miles across america, your eyes shone brightly, if you’d asked he would give you the world. he was going to, wouldn’t it be nice? having someone by his side through it all?

that night you both slept side by side, his arms seemed to envelope you entirely. his nose dug into your neck, uncomfortable but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. luke slept soundly that night, his hands trailing over you, in the night and morning. being awoken by a kiss, morning breath be damned.

“not that i don’t love it, but what’s got you in such a good mood?” luke continued kissing down your neck as you giggled, “it tickles!” he murmured whilst continuing, “i don’t care.” your hands ran through his curls, your morning bliss was ruined by a yelp of surprise.

“what the— y/n?!” percy’s face was pure disgust as you shoved luke to the side, not realising that you’d been on the edge of the bed until luke collided with the hard wood floors with an ‘oof’. “oh god, are you okay?” a thumbs up had you smiling, before you realised the mess that you were in with percy.

“how? when? why?”

“all those questions will be answered eventually, percy, it’s nothing crazy okay? just calm down.” percy scoffed, “nothing crazy? it’s basically only been a few weeks and he has his tongue down my sisters throat.” that sobered you up, sleep washed away, “sister? did you just—?”

“i don’t know, but please, just try not to around me.” percy felt slightly embarrassed at letting you know how he thought of you. how could he not expect you to be a sister? you’d been in his life forever. “okay, not to interrupt but—,”

“then don’t.” percy snapped as you groaned, “ignore his royal sassiness, continue luke.” luke brushed himself off as he continued to speak, “todays capture the flag.”

percy wanted to throw himself over a cliff.

everyone else was amped up, practicing with friends and strategising whilst he sat on the grass as you triple checked his armour, “i think i’m fine y/n, do you want some bubble wrap? extra security.” he joked as you sighed, “i just want to make sure you’re okay, is that so wrong?” percy sighed, “no, i guess not.” you held onto his shoulders as you looked into his eyes, “i’m sorry.”

before percy could even ask for the reason for your apology a sloppy peck on his cheek was left behind as you ran off. “y/n!” you laughed at his screechy voice, but chirons voice explaining the rules shut you up.

the game seemed to be going well, you hoped so.

you were currently viewing percy floss on a rock, which made you want to push him over it, which you couldn’t for obvious reasons you settled for pelting his armour with rocks and pebbles. “ow!” you laughed at his exclamation, knowing it hadn’t hurt him, “please, it only hit your armour.” percy shrugged, “still.”

maybe you’d been to engrossed in staring at pebbles and thinking about luke but the girls managed to surround you. sword in hand you rose from the floor, tossing percy’s things his way. your own sword clutched tightly, “flags that way, it’s not here.” clarisse smirked as she held onto her own spear, “we know. yeah, glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.” you shook your head, disbelief filling you, “god you just don’t stop do you?” she laughed, “no maiming. it’s like the one rule.”

“yeah, i guess i’ll lose dessert privileges for a while. i’ll live.” your sword clashed with the girls, grunts ringing out through the air as you held your own. you weren’t concerned for yourself, only percy. you yelled out for him when he tripped over the log, “perce!”

clarisse stood infront of him, “i’m actually not interested in maiming or killing you, believe it or not. i just want you to admit you're a fraud, and that you’re having Y/N lie for you. it’d make me feel better. are you feeling up to that yet?” percy stumbled as he ran, you shoved the girl to the side and followed along, “keep running, don’t look back!” clarisse sighed, “guess that's a no.”

you ended up on the shore, percy rolling over as he stumbled to his feet, they all surged forwards as you continued to fight. clarisse mainly focused on percy whilst you held off the other two. one of the girls was overconfident, believing herself to be able to take you down with a few hits. your hand managed to slide into her armour on her shoulder, wrapping your hand around it you slung her into the water with all your strength. cringing when you heard her slam on the floor.

the other girl huffed, “wonder what we’ll do when you lose. maybe i’ll go over to your precious little percy, beat him around. a few stabs and slices might teach him the meaning of honesty.” her words were fuel to the fire inside you, your hands and body felt alive the second you began fighting, as if you were meant for it. you were going to beat this girl to the ground.

the victory of your team wasn’t enough to stop you, a moment of hesitance formed when luke planted the red flag into the floor as he celebrated with chris. spoiling his happiness was chris, “isn’t that your girl?” luke’s head whipped to look over at you on the shore, sword in hand as you faced off with the girl, percy held up by clarisse.

“it’s one thing to threaten me, but percy? you’re going to beg me to stop.” the campers were quiet, the entire area was abuzz with anticipation. your yell and hers broke the silence as you charged at eachother.

hit after hit, you continued pushing her back. swords colliding as you put all your force into the fight, the swords neared her throat. her terrified expression made you grin, “told you.” her legs were swept out from underneath her as she slammed into the floor, sword taken from her grasp by you.

luke cheered when she fell, igniting a string of applause and support from your team. but right now? all you could focus on was her. “you think this means anything? i’ve been fighting my whole life, you’re nothing. he’s nothing but a lying loser who lost his mommy.” the girl spit out blood, her teeth painted crimson. the power you felt looking down on her was unmatched by anything in your life. glancing backwards you viewed annabeth speaking with percy, who, thankfully, wasn’t fatally injured.

your grip on the hilt of your sword tightened as you lowered yourself, knee resting on either side of her waist. up above, dark clouds began to form, threatening a storm again. rage surged through you as you picked her up by her armour, “say it again! say it again and i’ll break you in half bitch!” your screams echoed as the campers watched on, you shoved her to the floor before raising your arms, your sword held high as you struck it down. right next to her head, simultaneous lighting struck all around you.

the thunder was deafening, but with the girl out of your way your focus came back with only one thought, percy. you turned around only to view percy standing in the water, a trident above his head. “percy!” you pointed towards it as he looked up in shock, what you didn’t expect was for him to point at you.

a lightning bolt, right above you.

luke’s jaw was close to the floor, you and percy had been claimed, both forbidden children. now this was awkward. but he swallowed his anger and made his way to you when he could. by then you’d already spoken with chiron, and had the situation explained to you. currently you were settling into your new cabin.

a knock on your door drew your attention as you called out, “who is it?”

“hint, it’s not clarisse. so don’t strike me down with lightning, i quite like being unburnt.” the voice you’d hoped to hear flowed through the room, “come in, please.” luke closed the door behind him as he made his way to you, “please? you really wanted to see me didn’t you?” he teased as you rolled your eyes.

“you’re not wrong.” your hands pulled on the drawstrings of his hoodie, tying them together and undoing. luke took in your change of demeanour, brushing stray hairs behind your ear, “you want to talk about it?” your lips pressed into a tight line, “not really. can we just sit? maybe read?” luke picked up a book from your bag whilst you laid down.

he laid down next to you as you settled your head onto his chest, “percy’s okay, i spent about an hour with him, talking. isn’t that funny? i always treated him like he was my brother, and he is.” he hummed, leaning his head onto yours, “makes sense, seeing you beat the crap out of the ares girl, knew you had to be something special. it was also very hot to watch.” you shifted to look up at luke, his smirk was evident as you buried your face.

“don’t get shy on me now, i’m just love struck. i have a lovely girl on my side, how am i supposed to hold myself back?” your hand traced a lightning bolt over his chest, “lovestruck huh?” he nodded along proudly, “maybe not lovestruck.” you sat up a bit, “what do you mean?” the concern laced in your voice was hard to miss.

“i’m thunderstruck.”

“and i’m going to murder you.” your hands attacked his side as he laughed.

“i take it back i swear!”

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

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lkblackham · 19 days ago

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Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

#digital artist #digital art #digital illustration #artist #character art #dragon age veilguard #dragon age #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age veilgaurd spoilers #da the veilguard #dragon age fanfiction

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sea-lanterns · 1 year ago

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Holding on to Ganyu's horns while she breeds you again and again and again, to ground yourself, not realizing they're so sensitive that its driving her on...

Breeding kink with Ganyu? And Ganyu is doing the breeding 😍

Hold on. This is activating so many neurons in my brain rn. Ganyu just holding you against the bed as she rams her cock inside you, eager to fill you up and have a “kid” with you (get it because she’s a goat?) only to keep getting turned on because you keep accidentally stroking her horns…

It’s not your fault that Ganyu is surprisingly thick when it comes to her girth, so much so that you had to instinctively grab her horns to stabilize yourself. Not realizing that grabbing her horns was like the equivalent of stroking a private area for Qilins, and poor Ganyu kept getting turned on to the point she gets continuous erections inside you 😭

She’s already bred you full like…four times now, but it seems like the Half-Qilin is just too insatiable every time you stroke her horns. So just lay there and let her try to calm herself down. Maybe this time you’ll figure out not to touch her horns during mating season again 😅

#🫧feeding the fishes #ganyu smut #I’m not over my ganyu baby fever #pls give me baby goat

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meli-writes · 2 months ago

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Long Time, No Shear - Ch. 01

A sheepish Fae-girl is desperate for someone to shear her for the summer, and to not be weird about it.

There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep — and she’s naked.

Okay. No, not literally. Per human customs this is all completely appropriate, if a little avant-butch, for the current weather. Black boots and denim short-shorts; enough chains to lose count; loose, side-slit tank that makes her toned, tanned arms part of the outfit; no attempt to hide the lace bra underneath — citrine yellow, to match the sun beating down on her.

And Dolly, snout pressed on the window, feels like she can see all of her.

But— she’s here because Dolly invited her and Dolly can sympathise, because it has been three weeks since she was supposed to have been sheared and she is melting.

(It is though 100% the humans’ fault this is the 8th ‘hottest summer’ — on record, in a row.)

And so there she is, pressing forward through the curtains, trying not to be noticed while she works up the courage, when all of a sudden the human looks at her.

And waves.

---

sheep-goat Fae needs EMERGENCY help w/ summer shear. Can be reg if not weird

Last posted 18 hours ago on Fluffr, the dating-slash-bulletin app for Fae and panel-vetted humans. Yes, humans named it.

It still takes a weird person to apply to the panel, unless they got Fae-referred but that’s got pitfalls too; it also went public after the grants dried up, and has gotten worse because of that particular human-neoliberal urge to overdevelop everything into ruins; and it’s where she met her Wolf-Fae ex — the one who dumped her four weeks ago. But:

It’s still better than the human apps.

Because Dolly doesn’t need this to become a weird sex thing because it’s already super intimate and freaky — and it’s what every human she meets on their apps tries anyway.

Y’know, before she shuts them down and they false-report her till she’s banned.

None of this is the Dolly-in-distress’ preference. Not by the length of a thousand leylines.

---

“Hey. Sorry about that,” Dolly says, sheepishly.

“You’re all good,” the human replies, a smile perched beneath her silver-rimmed aviators. “I’m looking for someone in need of a bit of help, roommate maybe?”

“Dolly! Yeah. That’s me,” Dolly cuts in.

She points to the thin, white line traced on the interior doorframe, “You see the chalk? It’s a shadowskin enchantment, here and on the windows. Makes me look human from the outside, your side, so no one stares.”

“Ace! Makes total sense. Fiona, by the way,” Fiona says, as she steps past the threshold.

Behind the aviators her eyes glimmer, and Dolly has to remind herself it’s just the dispelled illusion and not— “You are a beaut, but I see yer problem.”

She’s glad Fiona can see the smooth, mottled-white velvet on her face now, because even from across the street anyone looking in would be seeing her cheeks swell up with a redcap-crimson blush.

“Girlfriend broke up on ya, didn’t she?” Fiona asks, a little idly.

“Mutual! It… was… mutual,” Dolly bleats, biting down on a full-blown shriek. “Okay. No. But she did it at the worst time and—” She breathes in the infodump, stops herself, curls in an outstretched finger and restarts, “Remember what I said on Fluffr about privacy?”

Fiona winces, hard, and Dolly has to smother her mirror of it, cursing at herself in her own head for not sucking it up. It’s nothing I didn’t tell her, justifying the post and shit. She was just—

“Yeah nah, totally,” Fiona says to her relief. “Just out to help a fellow gal in need.”

(Fellow. Yeah. Dolly also had to tell her in those DMs that Dolly was trans — up the freak-show sentiment even further — because there was no way around Fiona seeing it.

Humans could never tell otherwise, even though her horns were still buck-sized.

She was half-goat anyway, which explains away most irritating questions she gets from them — even if they still didn’t stop staring at the black thigh-high wool pattern on her legs.)

Dolly tries to move on, before Fiona stepping back over boundaries also means out the door, “Thanks. You’ve got uhh— experience. Right?”

Fiona’s nerves are swallowed in a moment. “Reckon!” she says, bouncing on her feet. “I was a kid when there was still livestock on the big, industrial farms. Went to the sheep-stations each year to help out; docking lambs in the spring and the like.”

(When Fiona had mentioned her ‘experience’ in DMs Dolly convinced herself it was practical. Human ethics have been catching up since Fae unveiled themselves a few decades back, after the Vampires, but it was still… weird.)

Did she have to specify docking? Dolly thinks as her tail twitches, and thinks Fiona can see her trying to hide it, and that Dolly can see that Fiona can see that, and that—

“That’s… okay? You’re okay?”

“Ahh! Yep. It’s helpful, not weird,” Dolly answers desperately. “Well, it’s a little weird, but it always is. Just remember that I’m very much sapient and talkative.”

She steps into the next room without looking, hoping Fiona is still with her.

---

“Alright girl, are ya ready?” Fiona asks, observing Dolly scurrying over the plastic mat that covers the floor, making sure it’s tightly held at each corner by a chair or spare textbooks.

“Uhh, one minute. Could you— look away?” asks Dolly, bringing a long-clawed paw to the neck of her shirt. “I know you’re gonna look back but—”

Fiona turns. She’s not giving you a striptease, she thinks to herself, pottering over to the sideboard to distract herself, “This is the stuff here?”

Dolly watches as Fiona inspects her life-long assembled kit — explains, “Yeah. I had to figure out what was best for me. Was not cheap.” Fiona whistles in agreement, as she slides a slim pair of double-bow metal shears out of the sunlight.

“I know this girl who can roo, so lucky,” Dolly adds, jerking about as her pencil-skirt stretches over her fluff-plumpened ass and— “Okay, ready.”

She sees Fiona tee-up herself, nabbing the electric handpiece. “No wide combs, I like it. Grandpa used to say we lost the union to those things,” she says, before turning back around and instinctively sizing Dolly up.

“Huh… like a whether,” she mutters under her breath.

Dolly has tried desperately to never learn the terminology; doesn’t think when she idly asks Fiona, “Excuse me?”

“Comb on the handpiece: anything bigger than 2.5 inches is a ‘wide’ comb,” Fiona answers obliviously. “So you can go faster, and get paid less. I suppose it makes sense to go smaller, and you’re not looking to sell the fleece are ya?”

(She had — once. When she still had rent to pay, and was needily short, so went and sold it on a Fae-fetish site for a shameful and incredible amount. And still thinks about it sometimes.)

Right now, her hooves grind anxiously into the floor. “No, Fiona. The other thing?”

The human’s round eyes tumble back into the abyss of their sockets, as Fiona’s brow rises in concert with realising what she’s said; something Dolly hasn’t the expertise to know, only the foolishness to ask. She doesn’t answer. Dolly feels the plastic fibres beginning to snag under her circling hoof.

“Say it, or go and don’t help me,” she demands at last.

“It’s a… castrated male,” Fiona says, biting her cheeks. “Sorry. Maybe I should go anyway? It was a bit of a heinous thing to say—”

“Nope. No, you’re doing it now,” Dolly tells her, making it obvious she’s guilting her. “Or, maybe I pull out Fluffr and report you?”

Tormenting her too — all while utterly in the fluff, Fae-adapted phone stylus in hand.

Fiona twists at her shirt, briefly exposing a rippling mid-riff, “You wouldn’t… really?”

Dolly makes a show of walking up, tucking the stylus into a stationary-drowned mug, and looks at her. “Fiona, I’m fucking with you. You apologised, and I’m desperate here.”

“It really is that bad?” Fiona mutters, as much about the overcoat as realising her pitiful remorse is far better than Dolly must usually get.

“You know what crutching is?” Dolly asks.

Fiona nods.

“Eugh. And, it’s a fifth of my body weight. Roughly. And fuck it’s so hot these days.”

“Yeah nah, lost my hometown to a wildfire,” Fiona says, a little dissonantly chipper about it. “Why I moved here to be honest with ya.”

“Shit. Sorry I’m—”

“Our fault,” Fiona reassures. Meaning humans. “Not yours. Just tryna help.”

“You really are, y’know.”

She sinks to her knees, leaning forward and pressing her thighs together to hide herself a little, and coaxes Fiona to join her. “My girlfriend— my ex— she promised to help me after the breakup ‘cos I was due but well… ghosted me, then blocked me after I called.”

(Six voicemails. The first few reminders; the last few begging.)

“The other options are like pay three hundred pounds to get nude at a hairdressers, and/or livestream the thing on a fetish site to break-even,” Dolly continues, knowing exactly what that site is called. “Yeah… nah.”

Fiona listens, but doesn’t look, focused on setting a few implements down before taking an offered arm to follow her down. “Wow, you’re soft.”

“Uhh, yeah? Unlike the sheep you’re used to, I don’t like live in a field,” Dolly says sardonically. “I get a bath in this place.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got an entrance hall, lounge, staircase. It’s heaps better than ninety-percent of the places in this city. Certainly better than the box I’m allowed to rent,” Fiona retorts, flipping the handpiece on.

Dolly lets out a small, nervous titter. The way humans tangled up their housing with markets seemed remarkably silly. “Adjustment funds, the Greater London—”

Fiona swipes, a whole ream of Dolly-fluff falling off of her.

“Hey-hey-hey! Wait!” Dolly squeals, Fiona blinking as she rushes to pause and Dolly collects herself. “You uh— need to go slower than that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Was just thinking you’d want me to be… efficient.”

She smiles plaintively, “I mean, I do. It’s just I wanna make sure it’s not scruffy, or messy, or obvious. ‘Cos that would take weeks to grow out. It’s best to sort of—” She holds her breath, and looks at Fiona who’ll never be more ready for this.

“Go slow and hold me down.”

Fiona swallows, wishing it was light beer and not the sheep-girl’s dignity going down.

“And that’s… where people get really weird, right?” she asks.

“Yep.”

If they somehow got this far.

“Like, seriously — how do I explain on an ad: hiya, I need a girl to pin my nude body down and spend four-to-five hours groping me and not somehow make it a weird sex thing.

And, y’know, not make it too much of a regular weird thing either.”

She sighs; rearranges herself to lean back into Fiona, bumping horn into chest.

“Throat’s best to start,” she says, after a moment.

Fiona’s hand reaches slowly, constantly darting her eyes back-and-forth for consent and, not seeing any complaint, takes Dolly at the horn and pulls her low till she’s able to line the handpiece up against the notch at the base of her neck. She closes her eyes, a little unemboldened. The lambs never talked back to her or looked this cute.

“Come on,” Dolly interrupts. “I’d like to wear clothes again today.”

Fiona fumbles, and blinks open, and the lamb in her arms just laughs. It’s difficult not to, there isn’t a way this isn’t absurd and Fiona thinks she gets that now.

Her gaze focuses, a little less nervous this time. A smile creeps to the corner of her mouth, “No worries. I’ll get ‘er right, sweetheart.”

---

Three hours in, and Fiona’s just now reached Dolly’s hips. The arms were simple, if a bit too close to being nipped once or twice; the back came off clean, and Dolly doesn’t admit she thinks about that site again; the tits weren’t bad — mostly covered in the same velvet that’s on her face, all the way down to her— y’know.

(Dolly also absolutely does not mention the three times she came this morning. Not for any sort of pleasure, spirits no. But to make sure there’s as little chance as possible that she gets hard from the super-hot, basically-nude butch handling her like— well, like a sheep.)

The ass was mild torture; Fiona tearing her facial muscles to shreds in the sternest wince of her life, as she held up Dolly’s fat, soft cheeks to clean up the folds where her ass met her thighs. Dolly, at least, holding herself in a grim but merciful silence of solidarity, till at last both rushed to kick back into listing off more of their shared, fascinating, and agonising spars with each of the respective departments of the Home Office that exists to make their lives a bureaucratic nightmare.

It made it all too easy for Fiona to forget Dolly was even supposed to wear clothes, until she was looking at her bend down to a cupboard to fetch mugs for a strongly needed tea-break, even in the present heat.

But, it’s smooth now, and so she runs a hand serenely down the small of Dolly’s back, not thinking of anything more than just making sure the girl’s cut is clean and consistent — till her hand reaches that newly-shorn ass and—

Bleat!

It’s the tiniest sound Fiona has ever heard, and it sounds hot.

What comes after is worse than the ass-silence. Fiona tries not to panic, hopes that Dolly didn’t feel the still in Fiona’s slide, but before she can click on the handpiece to continue—

“Oh— God. I am so sorry,” Dolly squeals.

“No, no. It’s okay,” Fiona protests but Dolly is wrestling out of her lap and she doesn’t dare stop her, as the self-excoriated sheep covers her mouth in shock.

Fiona tries to raise her hands in surrender, “I-I wasn’t thinking. Or rather thinking of you like a— I just wanted to check it was all the right length.”

“Fiona, you heard that right. I sounded like I was—” Dolly buries her face into the unshaven fluff of her thighs, butting the tip of her snout through to sniffle at the air. “You know what I said earlier…. weird sex thing. Like I’d never mean to, it’s just you’re hot and I can feel all of you. And I know how dumb that sounds coming out of me and with what the weather’s like but I’m used to people wearing like— more than that when they’re shearing me.”

She parts herself like Moses, and looks at Fiona clenching herself in awkward horror.

It really doesn’t help how it makes all her muscles flex.

“I-I’ve made it weird, not you,” Dolly whines; crucifies herself on the plastic sheet, “You can stop there, and I can wear shorts or a skirt so you don’t need to shave my legs.”

No one’ll notice the bulge. Shadowskin can take care of it. Right?

“Are you sure?” Fiona asks, tentatively placing her on Dolly’s knee and sinking it down a bit into her coat. Forcefully enough to both reach her wayward lamb, and to demonstrate the problem still there. “It’s really okay, that was totally me. I just sort of—

forgot the artwork for the canvas it was on.”

Dolly looks up, jerks a horrifically undecided croak out of her throat, and asks, “Did you prepare that one? You don’t… you don’t think this is a date, do you?”

There’s no velvet to hide the crimson shame that courses across Fiona’s cheeks, nor the same cushioned thighs to tuck them behind. “No, no, definitely not. Sorry,” she cries. “I know what you said too, and I don’t wanna be another weird human that you’re suffering for… basic care! It was just that you seemed… cute? And I don’t know, it feels nice to rescue a gal in need. I-I didn’t expect anything, I just… didn’t want to say no if you liked me too.”

The sheep stares at her, tilted head and pursed lips. Dolly can’t tell what reaction she’s having, which bloody well means Fiona won’t be able to.

Instead she slides back across the plastic and lies on her back, pulling her legs up till each forms a triangle. It does the trick.

“Should do the legs, shouldn’t I,” Fiona says — and Dolly is glad she didn’t have to ask.

---

The door is open, and Fiona hovers at not-quite the threshold unsure if she should be on the inside or the outside of it. Of the chalk line, Dolly’s rather literal boundary.

Dolly at least is— Fiona can’t admit it, not now, but she’s beautiful. To see the whole of her not in shittily-taken photo-form — her stylus is there for a reason it seems — but all in motion, as she stretched and shook and wiggled her tail and shorn-at-last self.

It’s hard not to feel proud too, of a job done well, of a girl saved.

The magic — the metaphorical, right now — worn off though leaves Dolly hovering too. She looks about as stressed as when Fiona showed up, but she hopes it’s only in a way that’s her fault — and that it’ll be quickly settled when she’s been booted out the door never to see her again.

“Uhh. Hey,” Dolly says, sheepishly, like Fiona was just coming in again. “You really helped me out a lot today.”

“No drama, sweetheart,” Fiona replies, the points of boots tip-tapping as she looks down at herself. “But, I should’ve dressed up better, didn’t think at all it’d be such a bother for you. Or— not a bother but— not your fault.”

“No I— It’s cool. You look good.”

“Oh… Thanks.”

She takes a step back, pulls out her aviators and tries to flip them on but Dolly just reaches out and takes her at the wrist. They stare at each other for a moment, but Dolly doesn’t let go, and Fiona doesn’t shake her off.

“Would you wanna help me next time?” Dolly asks, in more of a squeak than a sensible, unheated whisper. “It’s in a few months time… a lighter cut, for autumn.”

She drops Fiona, watches nervously as Fiona’s own nerves creep across her face, “Oh, I mean, sure! Would you wanna meet up before then, maybe? I don’t know, just to help things be more… normal.”

Dolly laughs, sweet on the afternoon breeze that’s sweeping in. “Now it’s a date?”

Fiona’s tongue wants instinctively to slither down her throat, but she thinks she can spot one of the girl’s teases by now — and she probably does have all the right to be a little mean.

“If you’d like it to be,” Fiona teases back. “But — for real — I’m still happy to help.”

Dolly huffs, and smiles in eminent satisfaction, “Then yeah, we can call it a date.”

It’s when Dolly’s peering through the curtains a few minutes later that she sees Fiona, thinking she can’t be seen, stop at short distance down the street and dance with glee for just a precious, delightful moment, before she looks back with a dumb, fond smile on her face and it just cracks when she realises Dolly can still see her.

And Dolly waves.

And Fiona can see her blush.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

#melinoë writes #f/f #butch4femme #lesbian writers #sheep furry #please don't hate me furries i love you #for all the freaks who correctly bully me for being a sheep girl #i think i'm legally obligated to get my sheep fursona now #this sat in my drafts for 10 months dear god

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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Maybe a drabble in which our Lamb meets Chimaera Reader, the maker of all crowns? Like, he stumbles upon their lair, and sees all types of the crowns, big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed, etc.? Maybe even a little inter actions between the Reader and the Red Crown in which it recognises them as their maker?

Sorry for my English, it is not my native language-

Also sorry if this request repeats, tumblr May have doubled it-

I swear I'm gonna turn this into an OC one day because I LOVE the concept of a crown maker in the COTL universe

........

'Where am I now..?' Lamb pondered as they stepped into a cavern--one most unfamiliar to them.

It was strange, considering they've scoured nearly every corner of the Old Faith for resources, potential rival cult activity, and even martyrs for the Bishops.

But this area was entirely new to them.

With their weapon drawn, they cautiously ventured further inward, eventually arriving into a larger room that was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. They could barely see a thing even with the few torches scattered around lighting the way.

Then suddenly, they saw a bunch of eyes opening up on all sides of them, varying in shape, size, color, and number. And they just stared down at the little sheep.

While they were accustomed to having so many eyes on them, this was completely different.

These eyes certainly didn't belong to any follower of theirs.

What if this was a trap?

What if-?

"Welcome, little Lamb! Promised liberator of the Old Faith!"

Looking upwards, they could see you descending from the darkness. You looked like a tradition chimera: a lion, goat, dragon, and snake all mixed into one. Both of your heads smiled as you took a seat upon your throne, although you frowned a bit upon realizing how poor the lighting must have been.

"Oh forgive me, it is awful dim in here, isn't it? Hold on one moment." Your lion head breathed out a small blast of fire, aimed towards a nearby candle that lit up.

That set off a chain reaction which lit up dozens of other candles around your lair, and burned the torches bright enough for Lamb to see what all those eyes belonged to:

Crowns.

So many crowns.

Big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed..and even multi-eyed; some sported horns and some did not. Others had bare surfaces while others were decorated with jewels or marred with scars from time.

It was an astonishing sight, and when Lamb looked back up at you, they could see a crown on each of your heads--snake tail included.

Not to mention your seat was adorned with four familiar ones...

"So you..take crowns from fallen gods?"

"Do I take them?" You repeated, before laughing uproariously. "No, but I can see why you'd assume that. I'm [y/n], Maker of the Crowns."

They blinked. "You created the crowns?"

"I have since the first gods ruled over these lands." You chuckled, taking the Green Crown into your paw. "I mold them into a design of my liking, give them life, and then send them off into the world to find a worthy host. They're like my children, so I do get sentimental at times...but I know they'll do great things."

'Huh...Leshy did say the crown found him..' Lamb mused.

"Of all the ones I've created, though, I never thought to see the Bishops' crowns again. But they were in such terrible condition...falling apart, barely able to keep their eyes open....I couldn't believe it." Your gaze shifted down to the sheep. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

They tensed. "...well...um-"

"Haha! I only jest, Lamb. I know everything." You smiled reassuringly. "I've sensed strong spikes in their energy, and I'm well aware they've been used as aids for the bishops after Narinder's betrayal. Speaking of whom...."

Pausing, you outstretched your paws towards them. "I see the Red Crown has found a new master."

"It's a long story, but--hey!!" All of the sudden, the Red Crown slipped out of their hands, morphing back into its normal form as it began floating up to you. They were shocked and angered, feeling extremely vulnerable without it. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing, little one. It came to me all on its own. Welcome home, my darling." With the crown nestled into your paw, your smile grew as its eye stared back up at you with happiness. You sighed and brought it closer to your cheek, allowing it to nuzzle up to you. "Oh how I've missed you, mighty crown of Death. I'm glad you have not forgotten me."

"Give it back!!" Lamb snarled, baring their sharp teeth as they tried storming up to your throne. But their little hooves kept slipping on the skull pile that served as its foundation, and they eventually tumbled downwards, landing on their rear. "I need it back right now!"

"...are they always like this?" You muttered to the Red Crown, who just rolled its pupil in response. "Huh, I thought so. Arrogant, entitled, paranoid....just like your first master-"

"Don't compare us." They scowled. "Narinder was worse than arrogant...he would have destroyed this entire world, along with you and all these crowns if I returned it to him! We are NOTHING alike."

"Hm, I see I've touched a nerve. My apologies. I just wanted to take care of this little chip in its horn." Smiling, you manifested some black ichor to seal the crack you discovered on the crown, before sharpening up its horns a little bit. "There. Much better."

"....thank you. Now may I have it back?" Lamb put their hand out, growing more anxious with each passing second they were separated from it. 'Why isn't it returning to me?"

"It doesn't see why it has to right at this very moment...and quite frankly, I don't either. It's not connected to your lifeforce. You're still standing without it-"

"Because I'm its new master! I gave it new purpose. I gave it freedom...and it should be obeying me unconditionally and I don't understand why it's being so stubborn. That crown wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as powerful if it weren't for-!!"

"Choose your next words carefully," you tutted, shaking your head as you gestured to the walls. "My children do not look it, but they too have ears."

Falling silent, they looked all around, noticing that the crowns were now glaring at them. They tensed up, a feeling of heavy discomfort and embarrassment washing over them as they slowly realized how childish they were acting.

And in front of the crown creator, of all people?

"Tell me..do you see the crown as nothing without you? Or perhaps you feel like you are nothing without the crown?"

"........"

"Your mistake, little lamb, is that you see crowns as simple tools to do your bidding. A conduit for your godhood. But do not forget, they are also living breathing creatures like you and I." You chastised. "As such, they deserve respect. I figured you would've been more grateful to meet their maker...such few have the privilege to enter my lair and receive such a warm welcome."

The Red Crown bobbed up and down in agreement, before it scowled down at Lamb, as though to say "you better listen to them and treat me better".

They just looked at the ground, unable to form words as shame creeped up their spine.

You sighed softly. "I understand your worries as a new god. The mere thought of separation from it drives you to rage, especially after what happened between you and Narinder. But I have no desire to take it from you. Not when you've fought so hard for it. All I wish is that you continue caring for it."

"....I'm sorry, Great Crown Maker.." Lamb muttered, finally letting themselves be humbled. "I don't mean to act like I did. It's just...he's been annoying me all day today, shouting about "divine right" and making my life a living hell. He still can't accept that it chose me over him.."

They felt the familiar and comforting weight of the Red Crown returning to the wool atop their head, but they only looked up at you with respect. "Thank you."

"Of course, young one." You nodded, smiling once more. "Narinder has possessed that crown since he was a wee little kit, so it's going to be quite a long time before he lets that grudge go. Perhaps in a hundred years, give or take."

"I understand...so.." Lamb looked around. "Do you have any wares?"

"Oh, plenty!" You clapped your paws together. "Feel free to take a gander! Since this is your first visit, you may have one of the tarot cards over there on the house. But just know that the crowns aren't for sale."

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #cotl lambert x reader #platonic

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