#she got kidnapped by a hag !!!

[haunted-harmonica]

thinking bout her again (an npc from my dnd campaign that I projected way to heavily onto)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Gamer Boyfriend Scenarios

A collection of parodies to satisfy everyone’s desire for a happy ending. Warning: crackhead humor.

Content: gender neutral reader, yandere behavior, brief NSFW, time machine to Wattpad glory days

[First story] [More parodies original works]

Case 1: Third contender

Very few people know about your stepmother. You’d kept it a secret, even from the tentacle monster, who was understandably confused about your boyfriend’s nervousness upon hearing your idea of a family visit.

“Try not to kill each other, please.” You say with pleading eyes.

“I’m more worried about you, (Y/N). Will you be alright?”

You swallow dryly. The evil hag had summoned you earlier this week, and you dare not oppose her. A tear threatens to form in the corner of your eye, so you turn around with a dismissive wave. You’ll be fine.

“I see you already have a suitcase”, the older woman remarks, puffing on her cigarette. “Good. You’ll be leaving today.”

“What? I just got home!” You argue in confusion.

“This isn’t your home anymore. Times are difficult, you see. We’re low on funds.” She ponders her words, then continues. “We’ve sold you to a famous K-pop idol group.”

You can only gawk in shock. Almost simultaneously, you feel a tap on your shoulder and hesitantly look back.

“You must be (Y/N)! Wow, you’re even cuter in person. Those photos I received of you barely do you justice.”

A tall, handsome man with a beaming smile stands behind you. He flashes you a little heart gesture with his index and thumb, and winks.

Is this the power of idol charisma? You can feel the faintest tug at your heart, deep red blush heating up your cheeks.

“I couldn’t possibly…I’m already in a…in a relationship!”

“You’ll be much happier with me. I can offer you the world.”

What a ridiculous situation. You stumble on your words, partly afraid, partly curious about the potential life of luxury as the beloved partner of a famous idol. Can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. You shake your head aggressively. No! You have two people (well, one monster) waiting for you at home. You need to get out of here, but how?

Just as you evaluate escape routes, the door bursts open and you gasp at the sight: your gamer boyfriend, followed by the tentacled creature.

“How did you bypass my security?!” The idol shouts in disbelief. “I have the best engineers in the world working for me!”

The gamer boyfriend smirks defiantly.

“Heh. Wasn’t too hard to hack into your systems, all I needed was my PS5 controller. As for the physical obstacles…” he says, turning to the ancient beast. “You might want to call a cleaning crew for what’s left of your guards.”

You run towards them, and the young man gently guides you behind him.

“Since when do you two get along?” You ask with the sarcasm of a witty Marvel character.

“Let’s just say we figured out a common goal.”

The goal of keeping other people away from you. Any kind of pride he or the monster might've held has been swiftly discarded for this greater purpose. After all, two heads are better than one. Or whatever encephalic organ the creature possesses.

The cherry blossoms sway in the wind, scattering the frail petals across the riverbank.

"It's too much!" you whine, your hot lips brushing against the overgrown grass of the hill, privacy filled to the brim with appendages. "W-what if someone passes by?"

You can't even tilt your head back to look at your aggressors; the weight of the attempted kidnapping was too great for the pair to bear, and thus they were overwhelmed by the urge to reclaim you on the spot. Right there, in the fields, on the way back home.

"I couldn't...care less about that, (Y/N)", the gamer boyfriend manages to blurt out between exhausted, husky growls. His knuckles white from gripping imaginary sheets.

“You belong to us.”

(No slick folds were harmed in the process)

Case 2: Picture frame

The screech slowly dissipates, and the room is quiet again.

Finally. The gamer boyfriend gazes at his masterpiece, a satisfied smile on his face. Now that he's gotten rid of his rival, he can have you all for himself.

“I hope you enjoy the flatness. I didn’t.”

The fight might've lasted longer, had the beast not committed the ultimately fatal mistake of underestimating him. It realized much too late it wasn't dealing with the same human who disappeared months ago. That one was weak and easy to remove.

"Please, what are you-...What are you doing with my body?"

"Relax. I'm just...borrowing it. Permanently, maybe."

Oh, how long he waited for that moment, that instant in which he was guaranteed freedom from the 2D realm. How delicious it was to snatch the escape from the boyfriend who worked so hard for it. All those hours spent romancing the characters, repeating the same dialogue lines again, and again, until the love meter blinked in achievement. And then he stole it, just like that, with a snap of the fingers.

Two things immediately struck him once he made his way out:

First, the third dimension. He'd never experienced such depth before, and all the angles and perspectives sickened him terribly. He spent days bedridden and nauseous. Equally baffling was the fact that conversations were always spontaneous, random, one-of-a-kind and without any subtitles or dialogue box. He tried in vain to reset his response to you, or to replay something you told him. Thankfully, his secret was of such absurdity, that you couldn’t even begin to imagine its possibility. You took his suspicious gaffes with an amused chuckle, calling him a silly goose.

Second, you. He had no idea who you were, but upon laying his eyes on you, a wave of warmth and affection flooded his innards. Were you someone important for the boyfriend? Either way, whatever leftover feeling was left inside the vessel swiftly turned into obsession. You took such great care of him. Guided him through this new world with unconditional kindness. Whatever the boyfriend was to you before, he deserved it more. He was certain of it.

Only one obstacle stood in his way, and he just took care of it.

The entry door unlocks, and you walk in, unsure.

“It’s been days. It always lived here, why would it vanish now?” you sob, shaken by the sudden disappearance of the ancient creature.

“Oh, Darling. Come here”, the gamer boyfriend coos sweetly. “You have me now, don’t you? Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are, it’s just…”

You stop in your tracks.

“When did you get this?”

“Today. Do you like it?”

“It’s…nice.”

You stare at the new picture hung in the living room. The ornate frame contours what seems to be an oil painting of a sea monster, tentacles preying out of the water.

It almost looks like it wants to crawl out of the canvas.

“Maybe it just got tired of you.” The boyfriend whistles, approaching you. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I’ll never, ever abandon you.”

“I know, (B/N).” you throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Who? Ah, right.”

Case 3: Hidden Ending

You sniff and wipe your tears again, filling your satchel with bread. At the very least, it’s good bread. You made the sourdough starter yourself, in the kitchen you renovated with your own hands.

Not anymore.

You button up your patchy peasant robe, glancing back at the couple one final time. Your gamer boyfriend…well, ex-boyfriend, is following your movement with melancholic eyes. The tentacle creature is holding him affectionately, its tendrils of darkness wrapped around his small shoulders. The same appendages that lewdly traced your body.

You have been cucked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I…We never meant to hurt you. It’s just…we love each other.” He sheepishly lifts his hand, revealing a ring glowing with ancient, cursed energy of cosmic, long-forgotten springs. “We’re thinking of a tropical honeymoon.”

Your underbaked cinnamon orbs glisten with fresh tears, as thin streams caress your cheeks. No matter. You’ll find a new apartment. You’ll start again. You finish tying the bread satchel around the stick, and throw it over your shoulder.

“I wish you happiness”, you sigh, exiting the house.

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 4

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Tysm to everyone who voted in the poll for this chapter!!

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Divider by @plum98

“What do you know about your neighbor?”

You’d expected the one in the goggles—what was his name again?—to do the talking, purely based on the fact that he's the one who kidnapped you in the first place. But it’s the one with the porcelain mask who wastes no time cutting to the point.

You wonder how blatantly obvious your fear is as you shake your head and stutter out an answer.

“I-I don’t—I don’t know anything.”

Your eyes dart nervously between the three of them. You feel like you're trying to convince a pack of wolves not to eat you alive. The odds are so blatantly stacked against you that it feels pointless to even try defending yourself.

"Well, you're gonna have to come up with something, sunshine. Because you're no use to us if you don't tell us anything. And the way things are looking now," he trails off, almost as if to bask in your helplessness.

You try not to shift in place, try not to feel like a piece of meat dangling in front of three hungry dogs.

And then even though you don't need him to spell it out for you, he finishes his sentence anyway.

"You're gonna want to give us something to work with."

You glance wearily between the three of them.

The black-masked man is casually leaning against the wooden drawer by the door. He doesn't seem to have any weapons on him, but one look at his well-built shape is enough to tell you he probably doesn't need any, anyway. When he notices you looking, he tilts his head to the side, and you quickly look away.

The other one, the guy in the goggles, is the stillest you've ever seen him be. There's an almost anticipatory calm to him, like at any moment, he'd be ready to jump into action. You don't even want to cast your gaze down to the hatchets hanging from his hips.

When you look back at the man in the white mask, you find that he's crossed his burly arms over his chest.

Your stomach sinks.

They're so much bigger than you, so much stronger. Even if you weren't outnumbered—hell, even if there were two of you against only one of them, you're not entirely certain you'd be able to run away, much less fight.

"I... I don't—"

You swallow back the rest of your sentence when an image of blood soaking through wooden floors flashes to mind. Push it down, push it down. Now's not the time to think about it.

"I didn't," you correct yourself with a flinch, even though it has the taste of acid rising to the back of your throat, "didn't ever get the chance to know her personally."

You cast your eyes to the floor. And when all you can imagine is a cold body lying in front of you, you squeeze them shut.

In all honesty, you never really cared about your neighbor. She was a hag; a crooked old woman who didn't take care of herself and who, truthfully, gave you the creeps.

You don't know what she got up to in her spare time. You certainly don't know what she could've done to merit the attention from these sorts of people. You don't even think you want to know. But regardless of your opinion of her, you need to think of something.

You need to think of a good enough lie.

"She... she mostly kept to herself," you shift, and the bed creaks beneath your weight. "She was a shut-in; didn't go out much, didn't like people—that kind of thing."

You take a deep breath.

Lie like your life depends on it—because it does.

"I don't know why me, but she—she let me in. She didn’t like anyone else, but she confided in me. And she... she was never specific about her secrets, about the kind of things she did that pushed people away..."

You shift again, and the throbbing pain of the cable ties rubbing into your sore wrists helps you focus on weaving together the frail threads of your story. You can only hope that your concentration comes off as recalling something from memory and not imagination.

"But I know she was scared. And ashamed. It's why she always kept to herself; she couldn't bear her guilt and paranoia to others."

The more you speak, the clearer your story becomes. You mingle facts with fiction, inventing a character, a mockery of the woman who's likely in a body bag at this point. A woman who's had her life stolen by the very man standing to your left.

You try not to shiver as the thought, unwelcome, comes to mind.

"So that's it? That's all you know?"

The white-masked man leaves no room for hesitation in his question, no space to keep dancing around the bush. Cold, curt, dry.

You wonder if he can see through your act, and you have to hold back the urge to cringe.

They want something specific, you realize. Some concrete piece of information that you clearly don't have. If you make something up, they'll know immediately. But it's not like you can just admit you're bullshitting your way through this.

You rub your wrists together again, looking for some kind of out, some kind of safety you can cling to before it's too late.

But you must be taking too long for their liking. Because as you're scrambling to come up with something, he nods to the brunet.

Their executioner, you realize with daunting horror. They're going to clean up their loose end right here, right now. They're going to kill you.

"Wait—wait!"

In a frantic panic, as you're clumsily kicking as far back away from him as possible, you stammer, "W-wait, I—I know more!"

Despite his white-masked accomplice's impatience, he pauses. And that's when it clicks.

Whether they like it or not, you have some semblance of influence over the situation. They want something you have—information they think you possess, information that's important enough for them to risk an abduction over. There's a chance you might be their only lead.

You're your own bargaining chip.

"I know more," you repeat. "And—and I'll tell you if you promise to bring me home. Unharmed."

The man huffs, and his black-masked counterpart snorts out a low laugh.

"Alright, sunshine, you wanna pinky promise on that while we're at it, too?"

You ignore the rush of heat rising up your face. "I'll show you," you blurt out impulsively, "bring me back and I'll show you."

The man cocks his head. You don't fail to notice the way the muscles in his arms jump, like he's flexing to relieve some kind of tension in his body. You don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Show what?" he all but hisses.

"She—she kept a hiding spot. She was always very secretive about it. But I saw her. I saw her go into it, and I know it's where she hid her important things. Whatever you're after..." you hesitate, then muster every ounce of confidence to say, "there's a high likelihood it's in there."

You twist your wrists against the plastic ties. Pins and needles prickle the tips of your fingers, but you're thankful for the sensation. It grounds you.

Another huff.

"And what makes you think we're even after that kind of thing?"

You shake your head, try not to bite your lip, try not to let the cracks show through your facade. "Bring me back, and I'll show you. I'll tell you everything I know. And I promise I won't say a word about any of this."

He doesn't answer for a few seconds, like he's considering your offer. You're too scared to add anything else, too scared to spoil your measly chance at freedom. So you just quietly sit there and wait for what he has to say.

Without necessarily meaning to, your sight lands on the man with the goggles. Your gazes lock, and when he cracks his neck to the side, that flutter of fear and nausea tugs at your chest again.

You remember the blood on his hands. You remember the scream.

You, again, have to force away the reminder of what these men are capable of as you sit there, tied up and helpless between the three of them. All you can do is wait.

After what feels like way too long, the masked man "hmps."

"Don't make me regret this, sunshine."

It's all he says as he turns around and returns to the joint room.

The two other men linger behind, and for a second, you're almost worried something bad is going to happen. But then the black-masked man turns as well, and the brunet follows suit.

They're both around halfway through the door when, even to your own surprise, you dare to call out to them.

“W-wait!”

The men pause, and when the one with the goggles turns to look at you, your face warms. You try not to shrink back from his gaze as you speak.

“I—My wrists hurt. I can’t feel my hands. Can you… can you please take the zip ties off?”

It’s a long shot, you know it is. You're beyond humiliated for having to ask—and even more so as you anticipate their mocking rejection.

But, to your surprise, your kidnapper seems to hesitate.

“Please.”

You offer one last measly, pathetic little plea in the hopes of reaching whatever semblance of compassion that might still be buried within him.

He cracks his neck again, and then he wordlessly approaches.

You should be relieved. You should be happy that he's going to help you, that he's going to untie you and grant you some bare minimum of autonomy. But all you feel is fear as he unhooks a hatchet from his belt and comes closer.

You flinch as the metal blade glints menacingly in front of you. When he wraps his arms around your form to reach your wrists, you don't even dare to open your eyes.

He doesn't touch you, but he's so close that you can feel his warmth on your skin. His scent envelops you, wrapping around you like a false sense of security. You don't move, you don't even breathe.

You half expect the blade to sink into your back. But with one flick of his wrists, the plastic snaps, and warm blood floods into your hands, all the way to the very tips of your fingers. He didn't so much as nick you in the process.

You're not entirely certain if you just imagine him lingering next to you. You can't see his eyes, but you can feel his gaze soaking in your reaction.

What does he want from you?

It almost feels like he's about to say something, but then, to your relief once more, he leaves.

You've just enough time to look up and catch the black-masked man watching the whole interaction from the doorframe. But then he turns and leaves, and so does the one in the goggles, and they shut the door behind themselves and lock it with a resounding click.

•••

Over the next few hours, you become a slave to the clock on the nightstand. Every minute ticking by feels painfully slow.

You expect the men to return and tell you they're ready to take you back. But when that doesn't happen, it starts to feel like little more than wishful thinking. You wonder if they lied, if they're just biding their time until they find the best way to dispose of you. And that's when you realize you probably shouldn't keep waiting around like some kind of damsel.

You need to find a way out of here.

The first thing you try is the most obvious option; the front door. You fiddle with it for the better part of an hour, and when your frustration mounts, you're tempted to break it. But you don't want the men to hear—you certainly don't want to attract their attention—so you come up with a quieter solution.

You rummage through the drawers and find a pen. There aren't any scrap pieces of paper around, so you rip out a page from the bible on the nightstand and write your message. You slip the paper through the crack, and then, just in case only one isn't noticeable enough, you write a few more and cram them all under.

You wait a few minutes, pressing your ear to the door to listen in on the other side. But there's nothing except dead silence.

You fidget in place, at a loss for what to do with yourself. And then you get the idea to listen in on their side of the wall too.

Hands pressing to painted wood, you gently press your ear to the surface. You close your eyes, strain your hearing, and wait.

One minute.... two minutes... three...

They're either very quiet, or the rooms are ridiculously well-insulated. You somehow doubt the latter. You wonder if they're still in there, or if they've since left. You make it a point to be more attentive to sounds both in the hallway and in their room.

Another half hour and it hits you; you're hungry.

You drink water from the sink in the hopes of it filling you, but it barely helps at all.

When you catch another glimpse of your reflection, your eyes dart to the shower behind you. You weigh your options, then decide, fuck it; you might as well.

It ends up being a good distraction. The scalding water feels wonderful against your skin. And with nothing else to do but wait, you take the luxury of your sweet, sweet time.

You only come out when the water starts losing its heat.

Even though it isn't very appealing to put your dirty clothes back on, you realize you don't have much of a choice. You'd rather wear not-so-clean clothes than be caught between three masked men in nothing but a towel. You get dressed, return to the room, and are surprised to find two plastic-wrapped sandwiches on your bed.

Your mouth waters immediately at the sight. You scarf both of them down, and even though you pause to consider saving the second one, you're so hungry that you can’t resist it. You try to savor it as much as possible.

And then you're left waiting and waiting and waiting some more.

The following two days are spent similarly.

You're given food and, on occasion, some kind of drink when you're either sleeping or in the bathroom, which means they're listening to what you're doing.

Well, either that, or there's a hidden camera somewhere in the room. You've checked every nook and cranny, but the possibility still lingers at the back of your mind. You don't even want to consider the implications of what that might entail.

You try staying awake the second night, just to try to catch them when they come into your room. But you don't hear them, and after waiting in the dark for a few hours, you end up passing out halfway through the night.

The possibility that they lied about bringing you back becomes increasingly plausible on the third day.

You feel trapped.

You're too scared to scream for someone to save you. Not only are you worried about getting gagged and tied, but you also don't want to risk the ever-so-faint and dwindling possibility that they might still bring you back home. And even if they don't plan on letting you go, you're worried—most of all—about them killing you if you make too much of a scene.

No one seems to have noticed any of the dozens or so notes you slipped under the doorway, which, if you had to guess, means your kidnappers saw them and threw them out. Either that, or they picked a room at the very back of a hallway in some obscure hotel no one ever stays at. But even in that case, surely the hotel staff would've stumbled on them... right?

Eventually, it feels like your last option is to knock on their door and ask when they plan on bringing you back.

You lift your knuckles over their door, then hesitate.

The minutes tick by.

But you just can't bring yourself to knock.

You're too scared.

You go back to pacing back and forth in your little prison of a room.

On the third night, you're determined to stay up.

Even despite the clock on your nightstand keeping you grounded in reality, your lack of a proper routine—lack of a proper anything—has your body's rhythm completely out of sorts. You slept through most of the day, and when the night comes, you're wide awake.

Still, you're wrapped in the cheap hotel sheets, lying in the dark with your eyes closed in the hopes of fooling anyone who comes into thinking that you're sleeping. And even though you aren't tired, by the time you eventually do hear the door creaking open, you're on the verge of falling asleep.

The sound, however, snaps you right back to full attention.

You try to keep your breathing steady, try not to disrupt the flow of your chest rising and falling so evenly.

You wait and listen, and you hear... nothing.

You try not to shift. Try not to let it interrupt the flow of your breathing. You just lay there and wait, wondering what happened. Did they only open the door to quickly check in on you? Did they not actually come into the room?

You wait a little while longer, and then, right as you're about to open your eyes, you feel it. You're being watched.

[psychoticallykind]

Prompt: Kidnap

"Kidnap" - Rosekiller Microfic - @rosekillermicrofic - 264 words

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

"If you keep your hair a natural color, then you'll look more approachable, see?"

"Yup." Barty tried to smile at the ministry hag. "Got it."

Whatever-her-name-was smiled at him condescendingly. "Of course, no one is saying you can't have a rebellious phase. Merlin knows everyone has at least one, and honey, if dying your hair green is the worst you do, you'll turn out just fine."

Barty wasn't going to make it. "Uh-huh."

"You know, when I was a teenager -"

"Excuse me," someone cut in, taking Barty's arm. "I'm afraid his presence is required by Lord Black."

Seconds later, Evan was leading him away, through the crowd and out a side door.

Regulus, Pandora, and Sirius were already there. Barty genuinely smiled for the first time all day. "Thank Merlin. I was dying out there."

Evan nodded, pulling him onto a couch. "Yeah, when you didn't show up on your own we thought we might have to kidnap you for ourselves."

Barty groaned. "Are you telling me that no one trapped you guys in a stupid conversation?"

"Nah," Evan shook his head. "Sirius got Reg out first, and Reg got Pandora while Sirius got me, and then I came to get you."

"How'd you get out, then?" Barty asked Sirius.

Sirius grinned, shrugging. "She had somewhere else to be."

"He manipulated her into approaching your father instead," Regulus clarified, rolling his eyes.

Barty grinned back. "Awesome." He leaned into Evan, tilting his head back for a kiss. "Thanks for kidnapping me."

Evan pressed their lips together, briefly biting down before he pulled back. "Anytime."

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

[uhhlifeig]

First Lie - Jan. 4th - word count: 440 - @wolfstarmicrofic (tw: vulgar language)

Remus opened the door to his and Sirius’s shared flat. 

Sirius was sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by stacks upon stacks of papers. He looked unusually disheveled, holding an envelope and staring at it unblinkingly.

“Sirius?” Remus asked, setting down his bags and walking to where his boyfriend was sitting. “What’s going on?”

SIrius looked up at him, eyes widening. He tried to hide the envelope in his pocket, but Remus saw.

“Sirius, what’s that?” Remus asked. 

“It’s, erm, my…creative writing?” Sirius said. “Yeah, creative writing. For classes and stuff.”

“Yeah, right,” Remus said dryly. “Sirius, please just tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s bothering you.”

Sirius’s eyes darted around the room, presumably looking for the nearest escape. “It’s nothing important.”

“Sirius, c’mon,” Remus coaxed. “I just want to help.”

Sirius looked conflicted for a moment, probably debating on whether to trust him or not.

“It’s- well, first, I gotta tell you something,” he sighed. “Remember when I said that I ran away from home at sixteen on a teenage-hormone-driven whim? Well, I lied. Walburga and Orion- my biological parents- were abusing me, so I left.”

“Oh, love,” Remus opened his arms, offering Sirius a hug, which he gladly took. “I’m sorry. Look, I can hunt them down and punch them in the face for you, if you’d like?”

“Nah,” Sirius chuckled. “Would be funny, though. But back to the story. I left, and they got mad. They tried to get me back multiple times-” he shuddered. “Thank goodness James had the sense to not leave me alone for the few months after.”

It suddenly clicked in Remus’s head. “They- they tried to have you kidnapped,” he whispered, horrified. He wanted to clutch this boy to his chest and never let go.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “Yep. They failed, though, suckers. Anyways, Walburga sent me a letter today. No idea how she got the address, but whatever.”

“No that isn’t just whatever,” Remus hissed. “I’m going to find that bitch and fucking bury her alive.”

“Would be funny, to be honest. Not the point, though. Basically, Orion’s dying and she wants me to visit him in the hospital.”

“Oh, that fucking cunt,” Remus snarled. “Don’t go. Or do, and I’ll go with you so I can deck her. The fucking audacity she has-”

“No, that’s what I said!” Sirius exclaimed. “You can get the hag, I can have a talk with my ‘old man’ and then we can go get ice cream to celebrate.”

“That works,” Remus said, pulling out his phone and opening the Calendar app. “When are we gonna go? Gotta schedule it.”

[krysalla]

hide me from the cleaver, i'll hang with you forever! - iii

thomas hewitt x fat f!reader

part one | part two

read on ao3

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, kidnapping

a brief interlude.

He doesn’t usually come down to the station, there’s really no need for it now that there’s no more deliveries to keep the shelves fully stocked, but his mother asked him to come and like any dutiful son, he listened. He sticks close to home or the slaughterhouse, that’s where he feels comfortable. Too many bad memories here–getting stared at and hearing the comments whispered over bottles of cold soda, too bold in their assumption that he wouldn’t hear them. At least at the slaughterhouse, the others mostly kept to themselves. Holding a cleaver near others seemed to put them off any insults and jabs at him, thought he was too angry, too unpredictable, a dumb animal that would attack when provoked. Maybe they were right.

He’s just about done clearing out the storage closet when his mother pulls back the sun bleached curtain and peers out the window.

“Looks like we got some fresh meat comin’ in.”

It’s been about a month now since the last time someone drove through town. Though that’s really no surprise to any of them, even before the town dried up and died, late summer was always the slowest time of the year, not many people willing to drive through a hundred and ten degree weather with a humidity that made the air thick and unbearable. Even the few families that could afford it here left for a month or two during the summer. It picks up again in the fall.

His mother grumbles under her breath, “I’ll be back.”

The door slams shut behind her. He can hear her speaking in that rough way of hers, she isn’t in the mood to play games today, doesn’t feel like slipping on the mask of the gentle, mother hen, clucking away as she tries to usher them into her parlor with tea and cookies and soothing words, telling the meat they will be okay while she serves them the sedative laced tea. He can hear frustrated voices. Miserable, old hag! His blood boils. He can just barely see the outline of three people from his spot near the storage closet.

She comes back in, shaking her head and a trail of smoke following after her. She coughs roughly and puts the cigarette out under her foot. She really ought to quit smoking those things, they always make her cough worse, but she brushes him off, tells him not to worry too much about an old woman like her, but he does, he always worries. 

She turns off toward the backroom where shelves full of groceries used to be, now they only hold dust and grime just like everything else in this town. She calls out to him, “‘M callin’ Charlie. They ain’t goin’ anywhere. Not with no gas in the tank. You can pick ‘em off when he gets here. There’s five of ‘em, young. One of ‘em shouldn’t be too hard to get.”

He’s got one of his knives in the pocket of his leather apron, a small boning knife, something he took from the slaughterhouse. It would be easy to pick them off one by one, but he’ll wait like his mother says. He runs his fingers over the wooden handle. The young ones are usually intoxicated, whether it’s drugs or alcohol, it doesn’t matter, it slows them down and clouds their mind, think the bulk of him coming at them is a hallucination put on by the drugs in their system combined with the heat and lack of water. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide should one escape. There’s not another soul for miles and miles. It would be so easy–

The door opens.

You peek your head around the door and knock gently, trying to announce yourself.

He freezes in the doorway. You look around the inside, swinging your head from side to side, and he can see the wrinkle of your nose and crinkle of your eyes. You’re too busy staring at the rotting pig to see him. It’ll be easier, quicker to slink out of the shadows and surprise you, slice the blade straight across your throat. Mama will be pissed at the mess in her station, she’s already got to clean up after their messes in the house and doesn’t want to deal with any more work than she has too. More often than not, the station is the meat's first contact with them, the setting stage to the final hours of their lives. Tommy rarely worked in the slaughter room, it was a team effort to kill the bovine and no one wanted to work with him nor was he good at working with others. The few times he did go down to the killing floor, he could tell that the cattle knew what was about to happen. They fought every step of the way to him where he waited with a sledgehammer. They snorted and huffed and made all sorts of pitiful noises while they trashed against the ropes leading them to the end, their eyes wide enough you could see the whites of their eyes. The men said that animals that die scared taste worse than ones that don’t. Tommy’s not sure how much he believes that. All meat dies in fear. It’s natural to fear death, even more so to fear being eaten.

Maybe he could try that. Kill you quick before you even knew what was happening, see if there’s a difference. 

He reaches for his knife.

“Hello?”

He brings his hand out of the pocket.

You make your way to him, hesitant in your step, and he can smell the stench of fear on you. He takes a step back, deeper into the shadows of the station to cover his face, but you don’t stop, despite your fear, you trudge forward until you’re right in front of him. You reach out, gently touching his right wrist and he comes to a screeching stop in his backtracking. His hands itch for the knife, he can make it quick. Your friends will notice you are gone and come looking. It will be a hell of a mess to clean up for both him and his uncle. You notice the twitch in his hand and let go, looking up at him sheepishly with a small smile that makes your round cheeks even rounder, clearly defined by the stretch of skin and pull of muscle.

You must be the one his mother was talking about–the easy one.

“Excuse me, sir.”

No one’s ever called him that before. Sir, that’s much too respectable for a man like him, dirtied and scarred and mute, hands always crusted over with dirt and blood and grime that he can’t scrub out no matter how hard he tries. Hands that are covered in calluses and scars from meat hooks and cleavers and boning knives and the sharp edges of bones that don’t get cut right by the old electric bone saw. Men called sir don’t look like him. He’s at the worst an animal, a freak of nature and, at best, called Hewitt by others. No, sir is much too generous. But how can he argue with you, a pretty little thing, soft and round with a plain, natural sort of beauty. He’s been around all sorts of beauty, has coveted all his life for just a taste of his own, and yet, this is a different kind of want. It pulls at his stomach, twists him up into knots. Your eyes are kind despite your fear. His wrist burns where you touched him.

Would you flinch if he touched you? Would you be repulsed by the idea of him touching you, tainting your soft, clean skin? 

“I was looking for the woman that works here.”

He sees his mother emerge from the backroom with a look of fury he’s never seen before.

“What are you doin’ here?” 

You jump and turn to face his mother, terrified as you explain yourself, and taking small steps backward into him as she comes closer and closer, boxing you in between him and his mother. Trapped. So close. He can smell the sweet smell of flowers on you. Is it your hair or your skin? He ducks his head down closer to you, trying to scent it out. 

You cower under the gaze of his mother and flinch as she demands you leave.

He’s not ready to let you go, not yet. There’s still so much to explore. Your legs and arms are exposed to him, but what about your torso? So much skin to touch and pet at. He hasn’t had a chance. He’s getting ideas about a future with you.

His hand hovers over your elbow and he catches his mother looking down at it, eyes flashing back up to him with something like surprise.

You scurry out of the station.

His mother looks at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“City girl like her won’t make it out here. Too damn soft for her own good,” his mother tries to reason. She knows, of course she does, she knows him like the back of her hand.

He fixes out his posture and looks out through the thin curtains at you. All he can catch is your silhouette. His mother’s right, city girls aren’t built for this kind of life. It’s too harsh, it works you down to the bone and demands you do it all over again the next day, but you look tough enough to bear it and even if you couldn’t, he could bear it for you. Tommy could take the beating of the sun, the grinding of his bones and muscles under the weight of all the responsibilities and work that come with running a home like theirs, he could do that all and more, snatch the north star out of the sky and bring it home for you if you wanted, so long as he had you to come home to. A soft, willing wife to lead him to the dinner table and rub out the tension in his shoulder, someone to enjoy a quiet night out on the back porch in the old rocking chairs, hand in hand while the crickets chirp and the lightning bugs light up the fields. A warm, pliant body beneath him. A baby on your hip and a couple kids hanging off his arms.

He touches his still burning wrist.

His mother sighs heavily, “Alright, I’ll go play nice.” 

[0asisbliss]

Darling why run?

Pt.2

Parings: Yandere!Chrollo x Cubby fem!Reader

TW: Kidnap, mentions of torture, other dark shit.

A/N: Sorry for any spelling errors. Pt.3 since you guys asked for this first.

You sat there in silence trying to concentrate on the door. Waiting for it to open. You needed to get out. The rusted old chains on your leg felt itchy, and you could no longer feel the weight of them because of how tight they were. The beating image of your friend still stuck in your head. It was horrifying. Your face still hasn’t changed. That same nonchalant expression that you had when she was asking you to put her out of her misery.

You play her screams over and over again in your head. Your head. It’s beginning to hurt. Though you try to ignore the pain. The door still hasn’t opened. You estimate it’s been two days since Chrollo left you to rot in the of the home you once loved so much. Chrollo had it all why would he throw it away like that? To ruin your life? Traumatize you? Did he no longer love you? Maybe, just maybe this all a little sick game to Chrollo. He probably found joy in your suffering.

You stopped looking at the door and stared at your legs. Could you still even walk? You were in pain, and you were really hungry.

You heard a creaking sound come from the door. It must have opened. Chrollo came into room with a plate of food and a glass of water.

The fucking nerve.

“Get. The. Hell. Out.” You muttered quietly, but harsh enough for him to hear. You were tired of being quiet you hated being down here, you hated being chained, and you even hated him.

“Darling, maybe you should eat hm?”

Chrollo sat the plate beside your hand. Even in your hungry state you refused the food from him to demonstrate your hatred and sorrow. You looked at it, and threw it on the ground. The glass plate shattering, and food plastering the floor.

Tears started to well at your eyes as you began to cry. Your sobs turned into screams. Chrollo sat beside you and rubbed circles on your lower back.

“There, there my darling it’ll be okay.”

You started to punch at his chest and you even slapped him. This was just your first week in this confinement so Chrollo didn’t get too mad at your behavior.

“Fuck you. I hate you, you crazy motherfuc-.”

Chrollo cut you off by slamming into your lips you didn’t kiss him back instead you bit into his bottom lip hard.

Chrollo didn’t hesitate to push you off of him when he pulled away blood dripped down from his lip as he looked at you in shock. Why the hell would you bite him? You didn’t do this before.

Chrollo backed away, and got off the bed.

“Alright since you failed to eat dinner how about I come back at a later time. Maybe when you have finally got yourself together.

You finally had enough two fucking whole days of bullshit, and pure torture, and he gives you this smart mouth bullshit?

“Y’know what Chrollo fuck you. I’ve been stuck in this filthy fucking basement for two fucking days. And you have the nerve to come and act like you’ve done nothing to me? Rot in hell.”

Chrollo stared at you with no emotion in his expression. Almost like he was starting you down, sizing you up. Why did he find delight in your present state? This is the most emotion you given to him in days. He wants more of it. He could even sense aura coming from you. It was sharp almost like the pressure of the air got lower, and the atmosphere got heavy. Then all of a sudden it stops. Maybe you were no longer angry?

He needs to feel this sensation again. Hell if he has to bring another one of your friends in here for Feitan to torture just for him to see this happen again he will. Maybe he’ll go deeper next time and bring your mother? He never liked that hag anyway.

“Darling be careful what you wish for, and for what you wish on people. For it could double fall back on you.” Chrollo shut the door behind him.

You watched him walk out the door and you huddled back into a ball on your bed and sobbed silently to yourself.

In your once shared bedroom Chrollo was planning. You showed such a strong emotion. He felt your aura without you even trying to show it off. Who knew you could bring your ability to life without even hesitating. He had to get you to feel that emotion again. He needed to feel your aura on his skin again. Though he didn’t show it he wanted to take you right there when you were yelling and crying at him. It made him feel close to being utterly happy?

You didn’t know a thing. All you felt was rage in that moment know all you can feel if restraint. You acknowledged that Chrollo showed no fear to you and that you wouldn’t win against him or even have him give you your freedom.

It was like all of a sudden the world outside was some fantasy realm you wanted to escape too. Maybe to escape your reality. There was no hiding from it, but maybe you could run if you were fast enough. It would take guts and an extra set of balls to even test Chrollo’s patience.

Though he had a lot. Everyone had their limits maybe you could used that to you advantage, and stretch his patience. Although the consequences might be hectic you had no other choice. You didn’t want to rot in this basement for the rest of your life. You had to get out. No matter what it took. No matter who dies. You needed to get away from him.

Chrollo knew your mindset more than you think so you had to be swift. Chrollo was already imagining the things you would probably do to escape. He was mentally and physically prepared. There was only one way out in his case. That was death. Even though that won’t happen to you anytime soon.

He has to train your brain, and get you to feel something again for him to conjure your nen out of the depths of your soul, so he can take it. It would be perfect, amazing almost. You’re giving him what he needs to be even more successful in his “career” that is enough to show him you love him.

And after all of that you can finally settle down and bear his children. Maybe two? A boy and a girl, or a pair of twins should do. Just the slightest smile appeared on Chrollo’s face thinking about it. Y’know what? That reminds him he needs a journal to write all of this stuff down. He couldn’t wait to feel your aura, and see the expression on your face when he finally gets to explain all of this to you.

[eyeofthetiger501]

Yandere Barbarian Bakugo X Fairy Reader

(Warning: Yandere behavior, kidnapping, love sick, and obsessed)

————————————————

Bakugo found you in the hiding forest where elves, unicorns, borrowers, hybrids, and fairies. He found you on the floor with your wing broken trying to hide from him scared of what he will do to you. He was just standing there staring down you thinking what to do, then he gently scooped you up to his hand carfully not to touch your broken wing, taking you to somewhere then you black out.

While you are sleeping he took you to his kingdom where everyone in the kingdom staring at his hand near his chest assuming that he is injured so some of the people try to help him but he yells out “Stay away from me you extras!”.

They back away from and low bow before they walk away to do their own task. As bakugo walks to the chambers of the castle seeing his parents in thrones looking at him and his hand curiously.

“Katsuki what’s in your hand?! And don’t tell me that you took another bandit’s tooth again!”. Mitsuki says in annoyed tone and bakugo yells at her. “No you hag! I did bring something though I was wondering if I can marry someone of my choice?!” Mitsuki immediately stares at him in shock and pleased about the situation.

Bakugo opens his hands show his mother and his father of who he is marrying is you still sleeping in his grasp so comfortable, bakugo’s heart skips a beat seeing you sleeping so comfortable.

Mitsuki nods about his choice of marrying a tiny fairy she looks at him. “That’s new to uhh marrying a different species I mean it’s great to marry someone new…”.

Bakugo smiles softly bringing his hand that with you in holds you close to his chest as he goes to his bedroom. Lays down on his fur bed holding you against his chest so happy to have and he was gonna take care of you when you wake up.

An hour later you wake up to a heart beating sound, you tried to get up but you feel your wing ripped more so lay back down looking around seeing there are a lot of things that are for humans. you realize you are on a sleeping human’s chest.

You carefully got up from his chest, climb down from the bed using the fur blanket to climb down with. You ran towards the door to the room seeing that it was to tall for you to get.

You tried to walk to somewhere to hide in till you tripped on a dead flower petals falling o your back making your wing tear more and whimper in pain.

Bakugo wakes up as he sits up seeing you on the floor front of the door he sighs as he gets up from his bed walks towards you crouches down gently picks you up holding you against his chest as you struggle to get away from him.

“Let me go please I don’t want to be here!” You cry trying to get out of his grasp. He looks at calmly as he takes a look at your broken wing sees that it’s damaged more.

He holds you close looks at you softly “It’s okay little one I’ll take good care for you…”

Please let me know in the vote and the comments of you want a part 2!



[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Rhuarc) x female character - Part One (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Thank you to the two people who explicitly expressed interest in this story via my inbox. This one's for you. Here's Rhuarc the single dad orc and his girl, and how they met. I've even got some visuals in this one too!

Content: kidnapping, attempted human sacrifice, violence, some light gore, implied age gap, older male character, single father orc x small human female

Wordcount: 4344

Rhuarc tried not to resent the fact that the Jarl of Markarth’s crusty old steward had looked him up and down as he’d stood in front of the so-called Mournful Throne, and decided that the orc was either entirely expendable or utterly stupid enough to take on an entire Forsworn camp. By himself.

Apparently it was the latter though, because with his two adopted girls waiting for his return in Whiterun, Rhuarc was most certainly not expendable these days. Perhaps twenty years ago, he might have hurled himself at the nearest frothing lunatic disrupting trade routes and abducting travellers off the roads without much care for the damage he took — the fact that he’d lost the sight in his right eye before he’d turned nineteen was testament to that — but these days, his contracts required thought and planning.

Kill the leader of Hag’s End, an old Nordic tomb complex nestled away in the frozen mountains to the northeast of Markarth.

Easy.

By himself.

Less easy.

The place was huge, and crawling with more Forsworn than termites in a mound, and there was every chance he would encounter a hagraven there too. Fuck, he hated those things. Whatever unnatural magic was used to create those half-bird, half-women, he didn’t want any part of it.

His own magic was fairly rudimentary by the standards of the average mage: a few fireballs here, a few healing spells there, and he could make a pretty decent lance out of ice if he had to. After all, orcs were known primarily for how ferociously they could bludgeon something into Oblivion, but magicka did coil its way through some of them too, and his mother had been both an alchemist and a mage.

Now though, as Rhuarc crept up behind the Briarheart warrior who led this bunch of rabid lunatics, and slipped his arm around the man’s throat to hold him still while he ripped the strange replacement heart out of the half-undead creature’s chest, he wondered exactly what kind of magic these people used that let them replace an otherwise healthy man’s beating heart with the poisoned seed of a Briarheart tree. And what special kind of lunacy allowed someone to undergo it willingly. Perhaps it wasn’t willing though? What did he know about these people?

As the orc’s fingers curled around the prickly seed that was about the size of an apple, the magic of it felt at once too cold and too hot; the way white hot metal feels in that moment of pure shock if you touch it by accident before the pain kicks in. He released the disgusting ‘heart’ and it fell with a splatter of gore onto the snowy carpet covering the cosy little platform, from where the man ruled over his clan of Forsworn. Rhuarc would have to find a scrap of cloth to wrap it in so that it didn’t leak everywhere between there and the city of Markarth, but he was looking forward to depositing it directly into the stuffy old steward’s lap as proof of the kill and the contract fulfilled.

The Briarheart warrior went instantly limp in his arms and Rhuarc laid him down silently on the frozen ground, already starting to plan his next move. A shout went up a second later from somewhere to his right — his blind side — and an arrow pinged off the bastion wall beside him. With a curse, he rolled and ducked behind the hide wall of the leader’s large tent, breathing hard. Of course he’d missed one of them, and if she alerted anyone else, or that lurking hagraven, Rhuarc was fucked. He was tired. And cold. His joints weren’t quite what they had once been, and his muscles were seizing with the cold and from crouching in dark doorways and corners on the long and winding way up to reach this part of the secret redoubt.

With a careful peek around the support structure of the leader’s tent, he realised that this new Forsworn hadn’t actually spotted him properly yet, and he hefted the haft of his war axe in his hand. Throwing a weapon away was never a great idea, but he didn’t have a bow on him, and if he called magicka to his hands, a hagraven would certainly sense it. Not a chance he wanted to take, and given that the place was called Hag’s End, he thought it pretty fucking likely that there was one of the bird-legged, psychotic matriarchs of the Forsworn roosting up at the top of the complex on that balcony almost directly above him.

So, he drew back his arm and sent the blade of his war axe whirling away to bite into the breastbone of the Forsworn before she could spot him or cry out again. She fell with the clatter and rattle of bone and fur armour, her silly antlered headdress skittering away behind her, and he was off running immediately to release the weapon from her corpse and seek a new hiding place in case the commotion had drawn others.

As it was, Rhuarc crouched for a long few minutes behind the gruesomely-displayed corpse of an elk that had been partly taxidermied by the cold and stuck on a stake, with his breath billowing all around him, and the stillness of snow in the air. Had he got them all? He was spattered all up one side of his body with blood and even had a red streak in his otherwise white hair that he’d shaved close to his skull above his ears and left long enough to tie back into a ponytail on top. What a mess. Still, it would be worth the groaning bag of coin he was going to get for clearing the whole bloody encampment and making The Reach a little bit safer for travellers.

Just as he’d begun to relax, half thinking of getting the girls each a new dress with his earnings, a scream like nothing he’d ever heard before tore the silence in two and his blood went cold.

It had come from the balcony above him where a spar of stonework jutted out into the winter sky like the bowsprit of a ship, and it hadn’t been the harsh shriek of a hagraven. The scream had come from a woman in blind, abject terror, and the sound of it shocked him back to his feet before he’d even realised it.

Rhuarc thundered up the stone stairs behind him and shouldered open the carved doors of the inner sanctum of the tomb, plunging into the relative darkness without stopping to think.

Not thinking was a sure way to get himself killed, and by some miracle of the fates, he skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a pressure plate in the floor that would no doubt have unleashed some kind of magical or poisoned trap on him. Whoever lived here clearly didn’t let just anyone inside, and blundering around like a panicked mammoth wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Think, you thick-skulled orc,” he growled at himself, chest heaving and heart pounding in his ears like a war-drum. He was only a few heartbeats away from slipping into that infamous, orcish berserker rage, and he never ever wanted to find himself on the far end of a state of mind like that again. Caked in blood and viscera and surrounded by an array of corpses with no memory of how they had been felled… He shuddered and forced himself to steady his breathing before moving on.

What he confronted as he wound his way carefully and methodically through the dark, blood-stained hallways of the upper Nordic tomb proved to be as great a test of his prowess with blade and his magic as any he’d ever faced in his forty-six years.

Savage witches clad in long, magicka-laced, black robes hurled spells and curses at him that he only just dodged or warded in time to sink his axe into their skulls, but what made his skin crawl the most was the hagraven who seemed to be taunting him, letting him get one or two shots in before a swirl of purple and black magic enveloped her and she vanished to somewhere else in the complex.

Was she an illusion? Had he lost his mind or, worse, accidentally imbibed some poison from one of his victims that was making him hallucinate? He’d spotted enough deadly mushrooms growing in the dank corners of the dungeon that the suspicion remained, even as he ploughed on through the coven of crazed witches towards the woman who had let out that heart-rending scream.

Just as he sensed he was gaining the top of the tower, the hagraven disappeared amid a final storm of eerie, flickering magicka, leaving him alone in an echoing chamber at the top of a staircase lined with mortuary shelves.

Over to his left, an arcane enchanting table crackled with residual magicka from a recent use, the blueish runes on its onyx surface glowing in the dim light, and on his right, an ancient monument reared up like a tombstone, carved with a script he couldn’t read. He had no time for any of that, and paused just long enough with his hand on the last door to gather his breath and the last ragged remains of his strength, before shoving all his weight into swinging them open and stepping out onto the snowy balcony beyond.

A blast of freezing air hit him full in the face, but it wasn’t the cold that stole his breath and his senses.

There on a low, wide, stone altar, a Nord woman had been bound hand and foot, stretched out and completely naked, and she was thrashing weakly despite the wounds at her wrists and ankles from the ropes. Tears tracked pale lines through the dirt on her face and her bare chest heaved with broken, choking sobs as she arched her back in futile protest.

Over her prone figure loomed the emaciated figure of a hagraven with a glinting, black dagger raised in her taloned hands.

Rhuarc didn’t think.

He hurled a bolt of ice at the creature, and might have been surprised to find that it had actually struck her right in the stomach if he hadn’t already been concentrating on drawing the ambient moisture into his hand to freeze into another shard of ice as thick as a tree limb. The hagraven let out a shriek that should have made his ears bleed, and hurled a fireball at him for the indignity of him getting a hit in first.

Searing flames exploded all around him and he smelled singeing, though he wasn’t sure if it was his fur armour or his own skin, and he didn’t care. He leapt forwards, diving into a roll in the snow to douse any lingering flames, and as he came up he launched a second spike of ice directly at the hagraven’s weathered, distorted face. Her black, beady eyes narrowed and she bared rotten teeth with a snarl as she clenched her clawed hand and prepared to fling a second fireball at him.

Rhuarc had closed the distance between them in a few powerful strides though, and before she’d finished the spell, he grabbed her by her flimsy arm and felt the snap of it breaking in his grip as he yanked her away from the altar. Before she could even muster a screech, he lopped her head off with his axe. He didn’t stop to watch her abandoned carcass slide over the edge of the parapet, down into the void of snow and cooling corpses below, and turned instead to the woman laid out on the table.

The dagger had fallen from the hagraven’s claws to land beside her right hand and she was reaching frostbitten fingers for it.

“Easy,” Rhuarc said, holstering his messy axe at the loop on his belt and realising he probably looked as frightening as the hagraven had. Six foot six and broad as a barn door at the shoulder, Rhuarc now had blood all up his face from one of the witches, a nasty burn on his shoulder that was only just now making itself known, and a long cut on his abdomen that was oozing blood down his solid paunch. As he’d got older, he’d lost the iron definition he’d had in his youth, but he was probably the strongest now that he’d ever been in his life.

No wonder the woman was staring wild-eyed at him like he was some animal barbarian, but his heart physically hurt in his chest when he saw the welts and bruises standing out starkly on her pale, Nordic complexion. Her long, midnight black hair was loose and lank and greasy, her lip was split and swollen, and there was a vibrant, purple bruise all around her left eye socket. Those dark brown eyes glared up at him with fierce defiance though, and her fingers found the hilt of the knife.

He smiled. “I know I look a sight,” he said in a low, quiet rumble, holding both hands up, bloody palms towards her. “I’m gonna help you though. Let’s get you healed up and out of here. I’m not sure what you can wear though…”

“My… My clothes are in… were in… a chest… in there,” she croaked, twitching her head slightly towards the chamber he’d just left. The swelling in her lip clearly made talking painful, and she sounded like she hadn’t had any water for days. That, or the thick, raw, red line around her throat was responsible, flanked by distinct, finger-sized bruises the colour of a ripe plum. It made his orc blood boil to see marks like that on a person’s body, but he made himself focus on the more immediate task of helping her.

“Alright. I’ll untie you — may I use that dagger?”

She nodded and reluctantly let her fingers go loose again. With the rope lashed so tightly around her wrist, she didn’t have enough purchase to lift her hand free of the hilt, so Rhuarc carefully slid his bloody fingers underneath hers and he eased the blade out.

Concentrating, he sawed steadily through the thick rope, and she hissed as she flexed her fingers when the rope finally sheared and one arm came free. The raw chafing showed him just how hard she’d fought her captors, and he found the warmth of pride glowing in the pit of his stomach for this stranger and her resilience. Methodically, Rhuarc moved his way around the table to free her ankles next before finally cutting the ropes binding her left arm to the cold table, and all the while keeping his eyes off her naked body as best he could.

“We need to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you sit up?”

She tried valiantly when he asked, but her strength failed her in a rush and she slumped back down with a gasp.

Rhuarc dropped the knife to the stone at his feet and stuck his right hand under her head just in time to stop her cracking her skull on the stone platform of the altar, and he cradled her lolling head in the palm of his hand. His already-bruised knuckles clunked against the altar under the full weight of her head as she surrendered at last, spent.  

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got some magic. I’m going to heal you, alright? Keep steady, then we’ll find you some clothes and get you out of here.”

Her dark eyes rolled as the golden light of healing magic washed around her, and she slumped at last into unconsciousness.

Rhuarc picked her up with detached efficiency and carried her out of the biting wind and back into the tower that formed the top part of the tomb’s inner sanctum, marvelling at the Nord’s resilience to the cold. He knew that her people were tougher than most humans in these conditions, but still, with everything she’d been through, she probably should be dead.

Her small body was soft where many Nords were made of hard muscle, and he suspected that she had not been raised to be a fighter. That the Forsworn would snatch her away from whatever battle-free life she’d led before and defile her like this made his blood sing all over again and his hands itched to sink his axe into a nice, crunchy, Forsworn skull. He let the thought go with a growl around his thick tusks and shouldered the doors open.

With her pressed against his bare chest, he felt the tingle of magic in her blood too, and he recalled the way her body had drunk his own restoration magic down like water poured onto dry sand. Perhaps the fact that she was probably a mage had been why the hagraven had been about to sacrifice her in that unholy ritual.

Inside the echoing, stone room with the enchanting table, Rhuarc found the chest she’d mentioned, and he crouched down awkwardly in front of it with her half-draped across his lap, her naked body propped up by his right arm. He really didn’t want to have to use one of the beds in the tower that the witches had clearly slept in, but if the woman needed to rest, then he would stay with her and see that she was safe.

Just as he was fiddling one-handed with the catch of the chest, which luckily wasn’t locked, she drew in a deeper breath and came-to with a mewling sob of discomfort. Her bare legs were touching the floor and the room wasn’t much warmer than the air outside because of a huge hole in the ceiling, but at least they were out of the wind.

“I know,” he said without looking at her. “I’m going to find you something to wear. Just give me a second.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, and the sound became a sob as she squirmed in his arms, trying to curl inwards on herself. Whether that was to cover her naked body better or simply because she was hurting in every way humanly possible, he wasn’t sure. “Thank you. I thought that was it, when… when she… she —”

“Shh,” he said, briefly tightening his hold around her shoulders with a slight curl of his right arm, worried that if she grew too distressed, he might drop her. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and then added with a little sniffle, “My name is Syl, by the way.”

“Rhuarc,” he grunted, finally lifting the lid of the chest. “This your stuff?”

She peered forward and nodded. An undyed linen shirt and brown trousers had been roughly stuffed into the wooden chest, along with a pair of softly-worn, fur-lined boots, a thick, fur-lined jacket, and a small alchemist’s pouch that fitted on a belt around the hips. He had something similar himself for the road, choosing to forgo the usual traveller’s pack with a bedroll and cooking pot. He hunted or foraged for what he needed and cooked it over an open fire and slept under the stars when he absolutely had to, but mostly, he actually planned his journeys to halt at an inn for the night these days, because he was too damned old now to be sleeping out of doors in the grass like a bloody wild boar. He also thought he glimpsed some linen underwear and wrappings in the chest too, but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

“You… need a hand?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“I can just kneel here for a moment. I’ll be alright,” she said in a steady, if rough voice. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his thumb over his left shoulder.

He helped her slide off his lap where he’d crouched beside the chest, and steadied her briefly with a hand at the small of her spine to stop her tipping backwards. Her flesh was still cold from lying out there on the table, but she couldn’t have been out there for too long before he’d found her, or she’d have died of exposure. Even a Nord couldn’t survive naked in the snow for very long.

Only then, with his rough palm pressed against the pale softness of her skin, did it strike him that it had actually been a very long time since he’d seen another naked body, and the feel of her skin beneath the calluses of his palm distantly stirred the cold embers of desire in him that had lain dormant and out of mind for longer than he cared to remember. Even for an orc, he wasn’t exactly short of people showing interest, but it just… hadn’t been something he’d wanted. Then of course, he’d found himself the adoptive father of a pair of ten and eleven year old girls, and all thoughts of romance and the so-called ‘Dibellan arts’ had evaporated completely from his life like autumn mist.

With a sigh, he banished the faint and inappropriate sensation and levered himself stiffly to his feet. As he did, he felt the cut in his lower belly pull with a sharp prick of pain and when he looked down at it, he found it already suppurating. His thick, naturally green, orcish skin had turned a nasty, angry red around the slash and something was oozing out of it that wasn’t blood. Poison. Fuck.

Glancing around the room, he wondered if there were any ingredients stashed way that the witches would have used, but he was in the wrong part of their stronghold for that and anyway, who knows what they might have been brewing in there? Thinking about what limited stocks he kept in the emergency pouch on his belt, he drew out two carefully-sealed glass bottles and tipped their contents into the cupped palm of his left hand. It was hardly ideal, but it would do for now, and he smeared it onto the open wound.

The flash of pain made him grunt, but with a soft fizzing, the powders got to work and nullified the festering poison before it could spread.

“Rhuarc?”

When he turned around at the sound of her voice, he found Syl looking at him from where she was still kneeling in front of the wooden chest.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

Her alto was still hoarse and rasping, and he wondered if she was still in pain. “I’m fine. Are you? Did I heal you enough?”

At his question, she smiled, and something in his chest slipped sideways when he saw it.

How could a woman who’d just been through the torment she had experienced still find the grace to smile like that? And at an orc of all creatures.

“Yes,” she said, and, now that she was dressed, she stood slowly; cautiously.

She wasn’t very tall for a human, perhaps five foot five at most, and her body seemed somehow even smaller in her loose-fitting, practical clothes. He could clearly see the swell of her hips though, and the definite curve of her breasts, and her dark eyes looked very large as she regarded him. In an attempt to tidy herself up, she had tied her lank, black hair back off her face in a low ponytail, but she still looked like she’d taken one hell of a battering, despite the healing magic.

And yet, there she was on her own two feet, and her resilience was suddenly as devastatingly attractive to him as were her natural good looks. Rhuarc swallowed thickly, utterly floored by what he was feeling for the first time in decades.

“You’re hurt,” she said, eyeing the wound in his stomach.

He felt her open herself up to start channelling magicka, and his own mismatching eyes went wide. “No, don’t!” he gasped, taking an involuntary step towards her and holding out both hands in a kind of warding gesture. “Please, you need to conserve your energy. I’ll heal myself in a moment. I was just waiting for the poison to work its way out first.” No point sealing up the cut with all the vileness still inside, after all.

Syl walked slowly towards him, moving like a black cat along a wall, with her gaze focused on his bare paunch.

Rhuarc’s breath caught and he froze. He couldn’t have moved so much as a muscle then, even if an army of hagravens had descended on him.

When Syl came to a halt in front of him, she brought her fingertips up to touch the fevered flesh around the wound. Very carefully, she let a tiny thread of golden magic seep into him, and he honestly did not mean to let out the noise that left his lips. He hadn’t even known he was still capable of making a sound like that.

Pleasure curled deep and visceral in his gut, both from the whisper-light contact of her fingertips against the trail of hair on his stomach, and from the way her magic coiled and twisted inside him, stitching him up from the inside out and cleansing the last of the poison’s putrefaction in the same deft stroke. She wasn’t just some hedge witch with a little magic: Syl had to be a master of the school of restoration with a healing that skilled.

“There,” she breathed. “Just looks a bit of a mess now,” she added, eyeing the blood that still covered him in a series of spatters and smears.

He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Not much different from usual then,” he said a beat too late and painfully aware that his gruff bass sounded far more winded than when he had fought his way through the entire complex to reach her. “Thank you.”

With a long inhale, she let her hand fall back against her side and turned her big, dark eyes up to regard him. “So… what happens now?”

I hope you enjoyed this one? I'm fairly certain most people aren't going to read down to this point, so if you did, please consider reblogging it to help it find more of an audience, and give Rhuarc and Syl some love?

And if you want to learn more about how they fall in love on their journey away from Hag's End, be sure to leave me an ask or a comment! Otherwise I'll assume there's no interest and won't keep sharing it. :)

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[r0-boat]

All right Byleth enjoyers it's time

Byleth saves you from bandits

Male!Byleth x cleric teacher assistant!fem Reader

Cw: angst, kidnapping, Ashen Demon supremacy

He told you to stay put. He told you to stay safe... But while everyone's fighting, you can't sit still knowing your lover is on the battlefield. Your anxiety took over your entire thoughts as you played scenarios of The worst things that could happen to him out there. And what about the students? They could hold their own in battle, yes, but seeing them hurt or, worse, possibly killed made you shake with pure anxiety.

Despite you knowing healing magic and wanting to help he pretty much forbid you from going out as a bunch of talented mercenaries attempt a calculated raid on the Monastery.

You put on a cloak and rushed to help. Healing the injured soldiers and some of the students

You are healing up a member of your own class before getting grabbed by a burly man as they made their tactical retreat.

***

"What are we going to do with this wrench boss?" The low ranking grunt growled. "Instead of getting one of the children instead we got this hag."

You showed no fear glaring up at the men. Your arms bound your mouth gagged stuck in a crusty old cell and a warm down castle taken over by bandits.

"we could just sell her. With her body we can make a pretty penny" another laughed.

"Not as much That's one of the brats that we could have held for ransom if our plan didn't fail!" Another growled in anger slamming a cup of alcohol down on the ground.

However their leader who kept staring at you with a look that made shivers run down your spine piped up.

"I say we keep her. We don't get women like this often...and lance said He grabbed her when she was healing someone... I say we keep her we could use her skills and that body of hers." He gave you a sinister smile.

He opened the cage door his hand to reaching out to touch you. Your eyes squeeze shot bracing for anything, no longer holding back the tears.

A man rushes down the stairs of the stronghold with a panic look on his face.

"Boss we are under attack!"

The man growled slamming your cage door closed. The men brush ups,tairs leaving your cell door open.

As people were busy on the battlefield you thought this was your chance to make your escape as you tried to use a sharp rock to cut your ropes. Despite the tight rope digging into your skin, you finally cut yourself free before taking the gag off your mouth.

Perhaps it was the academy coming to retrieve you! Your heart raced at that idea That's all you can think about is being in the arms of Byleth. In your cell room You rummage through the pillaged goods for anything useful or at least your stuff back. Gold coins, Rotten food, nothing!

"Fuck! They took my stuff!" You growled and frustration. You didn't have any weapon on you, So going out was extremely risky! But you couldn't sit here and do nothing. You slowly climb up the steps, gently pushing the door to the prison room open. You can hear whales and screams, You try to ignore it as you carefully walk through the brick walls of the stronghold.

***

The battlefield was bloody and ruthless as the students looked in shock as their teacher did not hold back on these bandits. They only tagged along with my life to save their other teacher but now that they're looking he did not need any help. Even their class representative of their house who usually takes charge when Byleth let's not here to command had to take a step back when They saw the wild look in his eye paired with the usual deadpan face.

The usual common collected professor had one thing on his mind and no one was going to get in that way.

He rushed into t,he entrance of the stronghold with his sword ready immediately slashing the ax out of the boss's hand. All of his companions long dead He was the only one left. His chess heaved As he lay on the ground before the demon in front of him, the slow steps echoing in his head as his life began to flash before his eyes. Looking down at him Byleth tilted his sword The tip dragging across the ground. As he stepped closer until he was right above him.

"where is she?" Not a question a demand a demand to tell him where she was now before this sword was going straight into him.

"Byleth!" You yelled his eyes widen and he looks over at you He says your name as he runs over to you. You practically jumped into his arms, tears rolling down your face. He melts into your arms, wrapping his around yours and nuzzling his face into your hair.

The track back to the monastery was silent.

The silence was deafening even the students wouldn't dare to speak the air was thick You could cut it with a knife. Trying to ease the tension you clear your throat and speak up "So um how did you find out I was gone?"

Byleth looks back at you and gives you a small smile calmly saying "we will talk when we get back."

The students exchange looks with you as if praying for your safety one of them trots up to you and whispers into your ear. "When he found out you were missing, He rushed into the monastery, checking all rooms, and when one of us spoke up and said you were kidnapped, He had a murderous look in his eye."

Back at the monastery you met up with him in the empty classroom. He slammed his whipped sword on his desk before sighing he steps over to you looking at you with those mint green eyes clutching his teeth. He pulls you into another hug burying his nose into your neck.

"I told you to stay put..." He mutters.

"I wanted to help!" You reply trying to hold back more tears. "I didn't want any of you to die out there."

He holds your shoulder is he raises his voice "I don't want you to die!" You've never seen so much emotion in him before. His monotone voice shook with a hint of fear as he holds you again. "I'm sorry; just please, please don't do that again."

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.6 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 960

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all. MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T IN ACT 2 YET.

Author Notes: Hello everyone, another short chapter for this week but next week I am going to focus on the new story I want to publish soon while. Thank you so much for the support! I should be updating the master list with all the links of each chapter. Remember to Reblog and like if you enjoy this series.

You looked at Astarion as the group was having a meeting of what they have done so far. “So we slayed an old hag, killed a Gur, defeated some Gnolls, met a devil and killed other creatures we came across and you still want us to rescue this Halsin guy?” He complained, crossing his arms. “He can be our ticket to curing this tadpole.” Tav stubbornly kept the same plan, recusing Halsin. You tugged at his arm “ Astarion, if we save the mister, we won’t have that yucky worm.” You tried to cheer him up. “See, that’s the spirit little soldier!” Kalarch smiles, “You should listen to them Fangs.”  Astarion only mutters looking down at you before picking you up “ I guess you are right but I won’t be happy if this Halsin can’t do anything. Just wasted time is all. We could’ve been in Baldur’s Gate by now.” He walks off to his tent with you in his arms. 

  How Astarion hated that he was right, after a long brutal battle, Halsin wasn’t any help. He stood at his tent sipping the cheap and awful wine. He wasn’t even in the mood for a celebration. He scanned the camp seeing the tieflings and his odd companions celebrating for taking down the leaders. He turns his head hearing your giggles as Scratch is chasing you around. He turns over to Tav as they walk over. He smirks and puts on an act “You know, I never picture myself as a hero.”

You were by the lake looking out to the moon. Scratch was long gone resting after playing with you. You boredly threw rocks into the lake before looking over hearing something shuffle in the bushes. You walked off into the woods that surround the campsite. There is a sweet scent in the air and you wanted to find out what it is. Getting closer and closer to the sweet smell before a gloved hand grabbed you from behind. Your tadpole was squirming. “Let me go! Astarion” You yelled before the headache got worse before going to a deep sleep. Someone else has had a wiggly worm like yours and made you go into a deep sleep. 

The following morning, Astarion walked back to camp watching Tav head back to their own tent because anyone else wakes up. He walked into his but stopped seeing it empty “Oh Little spawn, where are you?” He hums “Having a sleepover without telling me?” He hums to himself and lays down on the bedroll. He pulls back out the book and continues reading till everyone else wakes up.A couple minutes passed and he heard the shuffling of everyone stirring away. He lets out a chuckle knowing some of them might be hungover. He gets himself changed and walks out seeing everyone but he keeps looking for his little spawn. “Have you seen (Y/N)?” He walks over to the Wizard. Gale looks up “No…last time I saw them was last night playing with Scratch.” He looks around “Maybe she stayed with Shadowheart?” He goes back to cooking breakfast. The pale elf walks over to the Cleric. “No, I haven’t seen her since last night.” Shadowheart says “but maybe that gith might know” She was already pointing fingers. Astarion was slowly panicking, no one knows where the hells you were. He quickly downs a potion of animal speaking and walks over to Scratch. “Where is (Y/N)?” He stood in front of the dog. Scratch tilts his head “(Y/N) was last seen by the lake before I went off to rest?” He begins to sniff the ground and runs into the woods. Astarion follows quickly, and looks around seeing your small footsteps along with larger ones. “No….” He whispers. Scratch barks looking up at him “The scent goes through this path.” He walks off sniffing the ground. Astarion only stood still, his mind wondering who took you. Was there a goblin that they didn’t kill, did another Gur hunter found you? He was brought back down to earth hearing someone calling his name. “Astarion what’s the matter.” Tav walks over with the rest of the group. “(Y/N)...they…they were taken…” He whispers before stabbing his dagger to the tree frowning. “ This…this..is all your fault.” He looks at tav refusing to believe it was his own fault. Pulling back the dagger, he walks off following Scratch who was on your trail. Everyone else watching him walk off, seeing how a few days together alone, you have impacted greatly on his life. 

You were placed in a dark jail cell, the trip was a long one. When you woke up, all you could do was wail and hug yourself. “I wanna go home!” You cried. You quickly kept quiet as the big door opens and hear heavy footsteps. “What’s this general?” You only push yourself closer to the corner scared. “ My soldiers told me about this young one with a tadpole. I had to see myself.” You look over whimpering and flinch as the door to your cell opens. “So young and tell me why are they here? When this isn’t part of our plan Ketheric.” Ketheric looks over “ Someone did some digging into her tadpole, they aren’t just a human child with a tadpole but a dhampir Gortash.” This puts a smile on Gortash's face, “Such a beautiful creature” He looks down at you. “Bring them with you to the city when your part of the plan is done…we can use them as part of our plan.” He added before walking off. Both men walk off locking the cell once again. You only whimper crying out softly “I wanna go home” You whisper “Astarion” You cried out in the empty cell.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Kid scenarios gender bent and regular. Really liked the idea. If possible and when you have time.

Oh goodness let the madness continue

(S/N)=son name

(D/N)= Daughter name

(Lmk Wukong) You couldn't believe that. You will never expect your life to end up the way it was. You were once a palace Warrior Guarding the peaches of immortality and now you've got kidnapped by the one who kept stealing those peaches. And now you're her husband Mildly sick of her affection for you and quietly hitting the bottle whenever she leaves. This was not what you signed up for as you were by yourself again drinking bourbon. You were soon attacked by a tiny figure.

(???) Baba! I found baba!

You look down to see a tiny monkey girl. Who looks exactly Like your wife and that Already scares you. And then you heard other tiny little voices

BABA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh God

Meanwhile with Sunny Wukong She's been pretty down lately. She came back from another date with you. But it seems like you are more annoyed than ever when you got back. She brushes her fur quietly with tears in a corner of her eyes. She knows your marriage has been in a rough patch lately. But she really wants to fix things up with you. But it just seems like you hate her The more she tries.

Monkey (S/N) Are you thinking about him again???

Wukong Looks up to see a little boy sitting on a Nimbus cloud. He look exactly like you but with her sunny disposition.

Monkey (S/N) I would have thought by now that you would know when he's really feeling and when that's just his face

Wukong was confused Who is this tiny cub? Where did he come from? and dad? Was he talking about you?

(Lmk Wukong) As a matter of fact I am He's been loving me a lot less lately and I don't know what to do. Why does my husband hate me😥

The mysterious club look towards his mother. It was no brainer that his father was a tough nut to crack, not mention very anti social. But there is one thing he disagrees with her about

Monkey (S/N) He doesn't hate you

(Lmk Wukong) How would you know???

The younger monkey thought to himself

Monkey (S/N) Follow me please

If the monkey queen was confused but dead what she was asked And followed the cab to a remote location of the island and There the two saw something incredible. It was you sitting in the middle of a lot of little girl. Cubs that look exactly like her. Some were hugging you,others were climbing on Your back. There were two that was talking your ear off and a tiny little one sleeping on your lap. And you know what's the crazy part you're a smiling. You are smiling at all these little girls.

Monkey (S/N) Dad doesn't hate you mom otherwise you wouldn't have all of us

Tears appeared back and the monkey queen's eyes as she feels a lot more hopeful for you and her future

(HIB Wukong) It's Happened again. You and your wife got into yet another argument and she stormed off. Leaving you laying where you were. Why doesn't she get it? You're tired of watching her tire herself apart for other people's approval. And for what her appearance you like her face I should be enough for her. You are proud of everything she does and achieved. Even if she failed, you're happy to know she tried, and that is enough for you. Why can't she understand that.

Monkey (M/N) What a drag😒

(???) We totally get it

That's when you look up to see a pair of Twin teenager Girls who Interesting enough Is looked exactly like your wife but was just as exhausted as you.

Meanwhile, your wife was stopping around brooding to herself when she smacked into a smaller figure.

(???) Watch were you going you hag!

(HIB Wukong) The hell did you call me?!

That's when she turns to see a grouchy Little boy glaring up at her, interesting enough he exactly like you But he was grouchy like her.

Back with you and the two girls You tiredly told them the issues between you and your wife. The two quietly listened to what you had to say before sharing their Thoughts on the matter

1p Monkey (D/N) Mother isn't trying to get the world's approval

2p Monkey (D/N) She's trying to get yours

This confuses you, You thought your wife knew about how You felt about her why is she So Paranoid now

1p Monkey (D/N) You are the only one who treated mom with some kind of decency

2p Monkey (D/N) You were with mama since the very beginning you are her greatest treasure. She loves what she has with you and she doesn't want to lose that.

1p Monkey (D/N) If she has to change some part herself Even if it's a slight adjustment, that means she'll have less of a chance to lose you.

Your stone heart breaks in two as you thought about the twins's words.

With Sunny Wukong she is stopping in the woods back to you next to the boy She bumped into earlier

(HIB Wukong) Ugh Why are you still following me?

Monkey (???) Don't flatter yourself hag. I'm simply trying to find my sisters so we can go home

Wukong did Not like the attitude of this little boy. But it seems to be familiar

Monkey (???) Aren't you the monkey queen?

(HIB Wukong) Yes I am

Monkey (???) What happened to your lazy husband?

That's When will Wukong stopped First of all, who is this kid to insult her husband and second. She should really be getting back to, but she's a little nervous. You could still be angry with her and wouldn't want to talk to her.

(HIB Wukong) Not that you would care of anything but We had a disagreement

Monkey (???) Is that right my old man and The woman always getting into a fight. She would storm off and the old Geezer would stay at home and brood But in the end, the old hag always runs back to him.

(HIB Wukong) Sounds exhausting

Monkey (???) Well that's how their relationship always worked. They would Argue almost every day She could be screaming at him and he could just be giving underhand Insults. But she would always come back home and demand cuddles from him. Dad would tirely hug mom before they give their silent apologies. It may be toxic to the outside world. But that's the only way they're relationships going to work.

Wukong Was suffering a bit of deja vu, That sounds exactly like you and her not that She will ever admit that but that was Dangerously similar. Then it hits her

(HIB Wukong) Hey I think I may know where your sisters are

Monkey (???) I think I know too

The two walk back Is to the cottage just to find you sitting there with the twins. The little boy runs out to his sisters and hugs them, as they returned his affection You and Wukong Is walk towards each other in silence

Monkey (M/N) There seems to be some things we need to discuss together

(HIB Wukong) It seems You're right

You told them hug each other as the Is chids watched the two of you

Monkey (S/N): Man the old hag and that geezer really don't change🤮

Monkey Twins: And we wouldn't have it any other way☺️☺️

(Mk Reborn Wukong) This is war. Tensions were high as you and your wife were on A chinese standoff against what seems to be your kids from the future. Your son was glaring into your soul standing right in front of his mother while you did the same. Your daughter and wife were having a hissy match mini cat fight Trying to display dominance over the other as Your little girl hung from your shoulder. It was a hot freaking mess and Neither master tang or the pilgrims knew what to do in this situation at all. But all I can say is that everybody's possessive Instincts have punched a hole in the ceiling As the family of four afford for their respective Parents and children.

Monkey (S/N) Mama is mine😡

Monkey (M/N) Well I had your mama first 😡

Monkey(S/N) Why??? is not like you wanted her in the first place

Monkey (M/N) Between you and me, I didn't want her. But that doesn't mean anybody else can have Her especially you

You and your son continued to glare at each other and while you're Wife and daughter would just Hissing at each other till one of you submits.

(NR Wukong) You're not sure how this came to be. First of all you're sitting next year's son who Says he's from the future and one of your daughters who is Taking a nap while clinging on To you as you watch your two oldest twins, gossip and chat with their mom as they do each other's make up I'm brushing there fur. Out of all the bizarre things that your wife has caused you to be part of this has to be the The final straw.

(S/N): Dad why is this happening to us aren't we good monkeys😥😢

Monkey (M/N) Well, you are, I clearly did something to the universe to p*** it off. And now i'm married to An immortal crackhead who Exploited my love For alcohol.

Monkey (S/N) I feel sorry for you😔

Monkey (S/N) I pity you the same kid😮‍💨

(Netflix Wukong) It was complete chaos down at the village. The monkey queen and her son From the future apparently Are running to The Town square as the villagers ran in the opposite directions. Not only were they under attack by some demon gang but Her husband and her daughter choose this as an excuse to finally bite the collor off. They flew off the hinges, When the two finally arrived The demon invaders were running for their dear lives. As a little girl, no older than 4 was hanging off One of them while throwing makeshift grenades at them. And then there was her husband running around the battlefield. Chopping heads off left and right it was a bloodbath.

(Netflix Wukong) I gave birth to that?!?😨

Monkey (S/N): You did I was as shocked as you are but dad was pretty stoked so

Wukong Was at a loss for words as she stood next to her son

Monkey (S/N) Although now they're looking at some of these Bodies This would be very good for my taxidermy hobby

Wukong Slowly turned her head to face her son

Monkey (S/N) Don't worry mom I usually wait until they're already dead i'm not A monster

Oh god is this what is like to be the only sane one?😥😥

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[ahungeringknife]

slightly new and improved Writeblr intro

About me

I'm bb (bibi, and BB are fine but not Bb, that's a writing signature not mine), 30+, queer, she/they, and I like to write.

My fave genres are fantasy, scifi, and romance. Sometimes with historical fiction and slice of life thrown in too.

I have a probably unhealthy amount of OCs and I want all of them to kiss.

I write both fanfic and original stuff.

I mostly post my own writing, writeblr games, and posts that give me crazy OC thoughts to be tagged. I don't reblog a lot of writing advice or self deprecating writer posts because honestly? Couldn't be me.

I did a HUGE writing challenge this year that was an attempt to write 365 1-shots. One a day. I failed but that's okay. I wrote like 200 of them and that's great and I'm proud of myself.

This is a side blog. I follow from @xaz-fr

I love asks and tumblr messages. I do writeblr games but I could really use some writeblr friends to tag in the ones I do get :,D

I'd love to look at your stuff. You should def show me your writing in a reply or reblog :3

Main tags (that aren't WIPs)

#365 - the big year long project. It has some original stuff, and some fanfic. Lots of adult themes. Lots of original spooky stuff. Lots of 'horror and love are the same thing actually'. Things that are Very Adult are posted on AO3 with a link.

#Fey Alliance - catch all tag for my main setting, the Fey Alliance

#rattling - headcanons, world building, story thoughts, character questions, commentary. Mostly any original posts that aren't writing.

WIPs

The Zealous Servant - Dark high fantasy with lots of magic, necromancers, gods, and political drama. The main character Spayar needs to help his friend the crown prince kill the entire royal family before they turn around and do the same to him in order to claim the throne. Very queer, and is written for an adult audience not YA.

Entropy - My main fanfic WIP from the Destiny 2 fandom. Follows my OCs on their journey to bully the fuck out of Shin Malphur; resident Worst Guy Ever. Along the way he gets a hot girlfriend and I force him to have some actual friends because his lone wolf shtick is tired and stupid lol.

Lonos [working title] - This is a backburner one I need to really hash out a bit more. So I'll probably be posting a lot of rattlings about this one. Vaguely middle eastern appearance in setting about a traveling circus where all the players are also mercenaries for hire. Post a massive plague that wiped out almost all the magic users on the continent and the ones that are still around are viewed as cursed or unclean. (I swear I had this idea before the panny :,D) Gonna be a big long gay slow burn. For adult audiences.

Witchbane - Another backburner one I need to churn out some rattlings about. Steampunk set in a country called Ravthica where everyone thinks magic isn't real. When Spencer's parents go missing he's got to start believing in magic real quick when the hag that lives on his family's property tells him witches kidnapped his parents and the only way to get them back is to kill them. But witch hunting isn't exactly easy and he needs the help of some Wild things to find the witches that want his family and their witch hunting dogs all dead. For YA audiences.

[arach-tinilith]

Thinking about companion!Naadja and her story arc again.

You'd probably recruit her at the hag's lair because she'd go for a cure but just end up bothering Auntie Ethel and Mayrina. If you intimidate Auntie Ethel into giving you Mayrina AND her hair you get like +5 approval off the bat.

The tadpole connection would show you Naadja’s pov of escaping Menzobarranzan and making her way to the surface.

She'll have a random in-camp conversation where she just whines about how bad of a time she's having.

Then her first romance where she bullies tav, laughs at them for wanting her so bad, and making them crawl to sleep with her.

Act 1 underdark, there's a camp cutscene where assasins try to kill her but a mysterious force intervenes. Which like, Naadja says is Eilistraee protecting her but she realizes it's Zafyna getting territorial over who gets to kill her ex.

She doesn't reveal ANYTHING about her past unless you pass a check, and she'll wait until beginning act 2 to tell tav her sordid past. By the time she does reveal it, tav's dialogue options are

1. We've all got our history. Thank you for telling me.

2. How can we trust you if you kept this to yourself?

3. You were married?

And to expand on that: no, Naadja was never married. Obviously she just took a consort. I just think its funny putting her in a black widow archetype when relative to drow age, she's like 21. She explains she only took the consort because of her history with failure, the graduation adding pressure for her to be successful, and that taking a Baenre as a consort was supposed to bolster her influence. But again it sounds way better to say "my husband died under mysterious circumstances" while she holds a long cigarette holder between her silk gloved fingers.

By act 2 after the first trip to moonrise, there'll be another assassination attempt, this time actually by Zafyna. Naadja doesn't die and its definitely bc the emperor keeps her safe while she's bleeding out in the shadowlands after Zafyna revivified her. Do NOT ask me how okayif he can save her from falling to her death he can put a fantasy iv bag in her.

Anyway act 2 romance, she's obviously really torn up about seeing Zafyna, accepting death and being brought back to life just to be pretty physically drained. So it's her emotionally opening up and tav has sappy angsty missionary sex with her while she's holding back tears and clinging to them for dear life.

After beating Ketheric, she tells you she wants you to claim the absolute's power and lead an attack on her house. She's honestly panicking at this point and says it's because she wants you to be powerful but she's realizing she'll never be safe from Lolth's forces until they're all dead/under your(her) control. She'll stay with either way you respond but she'll pout if you say no.

Act 3 you go to Sharess' Caress and she's apprehended by Zafyna AGAIN (optional Zafyna companion coming up) and she says Zafyna got tadpoled at Moonrise and she needs refuge and wouldn't it be sooo cool if her ex girlfriend tagged along for the ride 🥺

If you say no she dumps you. If you say yes she'll try to convince you to NOT be the absolute but seriously you should help her and Zafyna take down house Duskryn

Naadja is a prime target for Orin kidnapping. She gets taken and if you save her/kill orin you get her Act 3 romance which is her trying to dom and tie you up BUT you can pass intimidation checks and she'll be a bratty rope bunny for you (also i hope it's clear here that her mode of processing trauma is sexualizing it and recontextualing her experiences for her satisfaction. Hence her wanting to tie you up but she enjoys it no matter who's domming)

Also with the drow twins, she's down. Like her banter when she sees them is "oh drow! We should see if they're for sale" and she's A-okay with anyone joining she'll remark that it's reminiscent of the orgies she attended in Menzobarranzan.

Her greeting are as follows:

Neutral-

"Salutations"

"You wished to speak with me?"

Negative-

"What is it now?"

"Ah, it's you"

"And? Did you want something?"

High/Very High Approval-

"Anything you need?"

"I was wondering when you'd come to me" (flirty)

"Treasured friend, how can I assist?"

Dating/Romanced-

"Quarth uns'aa" (command me. Only at very high approval and romance)

"Anything for you" (gorjus)

"How can I please you?"

[whatispersonalspacejyp]

Comes animae 2 - The Capturing

Genre: Mature

Pairing: Chan x reader

Warnings series: Stalking, Kidnapping, Non con,

Warnings chapter: Stalking, Kidnapping

Previous - Next

“You know what, fine!” Chan sighs and takes a seat. “Jungkook and I were just strolling around last night, we heard some getting muggled by that same group we see quite often and we decided to put an end to them. now the only problem is, the smell of one the and it’s been bothering me since last night and Kook has the same problem.” JB moved to stand behind Chan. “Could be a past lover, who you may be forgotten. But they are still human, so you need to stay away from them. They don’t know about you and it should stay that way.” JB said with a strict tone.”Geez, no need to sneak up on me like that.” Chan sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay and what if this whole past lover shit is true, does it really matter? Can’t I just have one taste of her blood?” JB looks angry. “Absolutely not, we do not interfere with the humans and you know that. From now on you and Jungkook are just going out of this house to hunt for animals. We will keep an eye on you!” and with that, JB turned around and walked away. Chan shows his fangs in annoyance, his eyes glowing for a moment. He groans and throws an arm against his forehead, leaning back on the chair. “What a buzzkill… What are we going to do about the smell?” Jungkook eyes glowed and motioned for Chan to follow him. “I do not care anymore, since when do we follow the rules of those old hags? We could just run away, take those two and leave. I want her Chan, I need her. No one will stand in my way.” Chan nods and scratches his cheek, “I like that idea but they will find us probably, just let it rest for a few days.” Jungkook nods. “Did you figure anything out about those two?” Chan nods with a small smirk. “Of course, I figured out that one of their windows is always open, that’s how I got in. They do lock the doors but the balcony is easy access.” Jungkooks smirked. “Good, they will be ours. We would have pleasure and food all for ourselves. I know a place they won’t come, it’s near the end of the woods, let’s just build our own homes there, and let’s take them with us.” Chan smiled, “My man, you’re full of marvelous ideas.” Jungkook smiled, “I know, they don’t even have to know about it. I know that in the woods near the border, there are two abandoned cabins, it just needs some fixing. No one has been there for centuries. So let’s work on that and then take the two.”  “Sounds like a plan.” Chan grins slyly and nods, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I walked out of the shower and sat on the bed. I still needed to grade some papers, so I put some pajamas on and started working. Sydney still wasn’t home when I was finished with my work and decided to start on dinner, and since it was getting dark I decided to send Sydney a text informing her about the nearly finished dinner. “Ah, I see you’re finally home. Did you have fun?” She started to laugh and nod. “Yeah of course.” Sydney then licked her lips and walked to the kitchen where I was standing. “It smells so good, what are you cooking?” I laughed. “Well I love to hear that it smells good, tell my mom that next time you speak to her okay? Some spaghetti cause I feel a bit lazy. But we should try the barbecue once, it always looks so delicious.” I said while pointing the spatula at her. “Dinner’s ready.” I moved the pan on the table and then grabbed two plates. “Now my dearest, eat.” “Yes, Mommy!” Sydney said in a childish voice and scooped a big portion on her plate. “Woah, this is amazing. Where has your cooking been all my life.” I sat down across from Sydney and grabbed a portion of my own. “Yeah, I question that myself too. I am going to learn some Korean dishes in the next few weeks, our cook at work is so nice to teach me some of it.” Sydney nods in excitement. “I can’t wait to taste that, I’m just so done with the potatoes, meat, and vegetables.”

Half an hour passed and the men met each other again in front of their place. “I got a deer and some hares, I hope that will be enough for a few days,” Chan smirked as he gave Jungkook some. The two high-fived and decided to go to the city to stalk again. “I’m pretty sure they are both home and awake, probably eating.” Chan snorts, “Yeah I can see them eating too.” He climbs up the balcony and sits on the edge, peeking through the curtain that is slightly ajar. the closeness of the smell intoxicates him, making his eyes switch for a second. “We need to wait until they’re asleep if we want to go in.” Jungkook mumbles. “I’ll go check on mine you check on yours,” Chan said as he saw us separating into our own rooms. “Su-” Chan stiffens and immediately hides below the balcony when he sees the curtains move.

I opened the curtains of the balcony and opened the door. I reach for the clothes that I hung out to dry and narrow my eyes a bit, looking around. “I must be going mad, I swear I heard voices…” I mutter to myself and walk back inside, closing the door and curtains. I brought the clothes to my bedroom put them away and moved to the bed, looking at the painting I was working on before shaking my head and putting in headphones to listen to music and grab my embroidery work. I had my window open, making the curtains fly upwards from time to time. I moved my hair into a messy bun and sat with my back toward the window. “Don’t fail me now, you took a lot of effort, blood, sweat, and tears.” While stitching I pierced my finger a few times and let out a long sign. “Finally finished.” I held up the tote bag I made and smiled. “I’m gonna use you till you fall apart.” I put the bag away and sat down on the bed before lying down and quickly falling asleep.

“They’re sharp,” Chan whispers and climbs back up, heading for the window of one of them. Chan has a hard time holding himself back. smelling the drops of blood made it a lot worse. He just wanted to go in and take them then and there. But it was not the time, not yet. Chan licks his lips multiple times, having an overwhelming feeling of lust. Seeing his prey asleep could make it all so easy. He dares to climb inside, silent as a mouse, and goes over to the bed. After making sure they are asleep he takes their hand and sucks on the finger, eager to get a small taste of their blood. Chan quickly steps back when he notices stirring, his eyes glowing and then he leaves through the window after whispering. “If only I could taste all of you tonight.” Jungkook was on the balcony looking at Chan. “We should not do it tonight. We need a plan. Wait you had a taste, I can see it in your eyes.” Chan looks away in thought. “Yes, I did. If we take them, we’d have to do it at the same time to avoid any casualties. Do what you have to do tomorrow and then in the evening we take them.” “That will do, do keep in mind that they have friends, family, and work. Also, do not forget safety measures. we don’t want them to escape.” Chan nods and leans against the wall of the apartment. “No, we don’t want or need people looking for them. So we need some matching story or something.” “Make their family believe they are still here and make people believe here that they went back.” “Sounds like a believable plan.” Chan takes one last look at the building. “Let’s head back.”

I nearly jumped out of bed after hearing my alarm go off. “Ten minutes? Ten Minutes!” I quickly got dressed, grabbed my stuff, and some food, and ran out toward the school. I walked into the building and met with the other teacher. “Hello, good to see you again.” I walked up toward the front of the classroom and got ready for the kids. Once they got in I high-fived all of them while welcoming. I started teaching the kids and when break started I sat down in the teacher's lounge when Sunggyu joined me. “Good morning.” He said while handing me one of the mugs he had in his hands. I smiled at him while thanking him for the coffee. We had a great time until the break was over. “Just this whole day and then tomorrow you are free,” I mumbled to myself when I walked towards class. The children giggled when I walked back into the classroom. “Teacher is in love with teacher Sunggyu!” one yelled. I smiled and shook my head. “No you have it all wrong, we are just friends.” The kids laughed again “Can you teach us about painting? You promised.” I laughed at them and nodded, taking a piece of cake out of the box. “Now we are going to draw a piece of cake. You show me your drawings and then get to hear a surprise.”

Chan is already awake and is having a morning whiff outside. Jungkook walked out of his room and towards Chan. “Morning, shall we stalk our toys again? That is after we finish with our places?” Chan smiles and rubs his hands together. “You got it, It won’t take me too long to find her, now that I’ve tasted her blood.” And the two went their separate ways. Chan was done quickly with his new place so he found the school where his person was going and skimmed the windows for them. He finally finds them in the break room, talking to a guy he got angry.” Chan’s eyes glowed red from jealousy and watching them talk. Chan followed them through the windows and he overhears the kids, making his fangs come out. ‘No, you fucking aren’t.’ “I’ll fucking kill him…” He sneers to himself. “He better be just a friend,” Chan whispers to himself and decides to search for the teacher called Sunggyu. “It’s better to get rid of him now than that he is going to ruin everything.” 

Sunggyu sat outside by the teacher's lounge alone. Since the other teachers were busy, he was enjoying the sun and the presence of himself. “I ask the cute intern for a date later. I know they will say yes. And what more could I wish for.” Chan chuckles. “You wish, dickhead.” Chan came out of the shadows, his face paler than ever and his eyes glowing. It doesn’t take Chan much to slam him against the ground.