#and the wooden puppet comes to life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fountainpenguin · 8 months

Text

“I never worry- I'm fine... Sorry if expressing my feelings was a little out of line.” (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today!

Chapter 9 - “Smoke (Lizzie, Etho, Scar)”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

---

Intimacy comes in many flavors. For Joel and Lizzie, that’s forcing respawns on each other. For Etho, that’s physical touch and/or double checking you installed your buddy’s breathing system right. For Bdubs? Logging out in one another’s company. SnifferMyFeet? Wearing a ring. For Grian, it might be something out of this world… and then there’s Scar, loyal Scar, with the steel chair.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

LDShadowLady

#temporary widow

💚 💛 ❤️

Lizzie might know more about how to take care of an Etho than Etho does. Etho, whose face has been slumped in his hand for the last 20 minutes (fingers pulling at his lashes, face gray and dark beneath his eyes), does not look like he’s slept in precisely four days. Nor does he look like he’s eaten anything other than Beef’s chocolate cake for a week. Both these facts are probably untrue (as Lizzie’s data is, admittedly, quite limited and biased at this time) but he looks it.

Granted, Lizzie wouldn’t dream of calling herself the local Etho expert of New Star Station when there are people like Beef, Pause, Bdubs, Tango, Impulse, and Xisuma around. However, since Joel’s still a firefly locked inside a chest, SnifferMyFeet is curled like a croissant on the end of the leather sofa, TwoMuchGrian left 40 minutes ago, and Beef is still in his bedroom with his headphones on… Yes. Lizzie feels confident in claiming the title of “most knowledgeable person in the room on Etho’s physical health and mental strain.” Possibly (though not necessarily) including Etho. Lizzie leans against the wall.

“Um. Well, don’t hesitate to inform me whether I can assist you in any matter whatsoever.”

“I’m fine.” He shifts his hand after that. Straightens up. The type of guy who’d scoff and grumble if you pointed out that he is mortal too. “It’s just… been a long day of screens.”

She touches the back of his hand in silent solidarity. Etho doesn’t jerk his away. I know, she tries to tell him. Thank you for all your hard work.

His fingers tighten against the desk. “Liz-”

Sniff clears his throat at that exact moment. Lizzie and Etho both glance back at him. He says, “I want to go outside. Tell me the rules.”

“Outside?” Etho repeats. “For what?”

“Hunting.” Sniff bounces on his feet, vex wings flapping out. They’re spindly little things and quite frankly, Lizzie’s glad she doesn’t have any herself. If she had to trust her safety to raggedy little bits like that, she’d probably have a heart attack. “I need food… What are the rules?”

“Rules?” Etho sounds… lost.

“Yeah. Like, is it bad sportsmanship to camp a portal? And am I not allowed to sneak into anybody’s house?”

“Oh. Um… Bdubs could tell you more. Or Scar. Scar might be the more accurate resource. As for rules, I think it’s considered… extremely rude to ‘target’ someone without their consent - as in, go out of your way to look for them - but I don’t really hunt souls. I’m not exactly on the ball at keeping up with politics.”

Sniff frowns. “So, what… You don’t even hunt chicken souls?”

“I’m an omnivore. I can eat souls if I want to, but I’m not like zombies, vex, or phantoms or… what’s the last one?”

“I think drowned and husks both can.”

“-anyway. There are some hybrids who have to eat souls to refill their hunger haunches. ‘Anivore’ is the word for that, and I’m an omnivore.” Then, maybe as a joke, “So don’t get on my bad side, Sniff… because I can log you out just as easily as you can get me.”

“What about her?” Sniff asks, gesturing to Lizzie. “She’s the ‘cutest predator,’ yeah? Lizzie, do you eat souls?”

She lifts her brows. “I’m an axolotl. I like seafood, mostly. Crabs, fish, worms… Lots of insects.”

Sniff thinks about that for half a second. Then he hides behind the couch arm, staring back with squinted eyes. Oh. He may not be an endermite hybrid anymore, but she can’t blame him for the judgment. I feel a little bad about that, actually.

“I don’t eat souls,” Lizzie corrects. “I eat mob drops.”

“Oh… Okay.” Turning back to Etho, “You said the phantoms get to hunt. I’m hungry. I’m going out.” He lifts his hands as though bracing himself for a storm of words, though Etho’s fingers are still cupping his face and neither he nor Lizzie opened their mouths. “Hang on- Just-just hear me out before you say ‘No way, Sniff; it’s way too dangerous if the phantoms make line of sight;’ cry me a river, mate. If no one even knows what I look like, how can they tell I’m not supposed to be here? I’ll keep my comm in my pocket. Or- or say I just flit around out there in my weird little soul form, and I just look at the people? What then? You’re just some fox and Joel is just some firefly. No one will even know it’s me.”

“Do you know how to go into free-cam?”

That shuts Sniff up. He turns his back, tucking himself into a ball on the sofa once again. His wings twitch at his shoulder blades. Lizzie looks back at Etho, but his eyes are firmly off hers and focused on the screen again. She doesn’t push him into voicing whatever thought had danced inside his head.

Etho plays the keyboard on his programmer’s tablet like it’s a hundred tiny noteblocks. They spark little tick-tock noises in the air and shoot flashes of color across the screen wherever his fingers tap. Lizzie’s not sure if that’s part of its default design or simply a setting Etho toggled on for dramatic effect. She supposes he’s allowed to. Perhaps it’s the same reason Joel tags silly names on all his farming tools: Anything to make a dull job more fun.

“Mmmkay,” Etho murmurs, but it’s mostly to himself. Some of what he does it a little copy and paste. He’s pulling from what’s left of Joel’s code. He’s pulling from Sniff. Maybe a little from Two. Maybe a little from his own head. He clicks his tongue and mumbles here and there.

But for the most part, Etho works in silence- only checking with Lizzie on occasion when he runs into something he hasn’t memorized. Mostly, that means his will o’ the wisp traits. Makes sense. Joel didn’t have his antennae, his swamp gas wings, or his poofing ability active on-server during Double Life, where he and Etho were partnered up as soulmates.

After a few struggled attempts though, Etho deletes his drafts, shaking his head. “I… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to write an entire mod for him from scratch. I’ll just bring him back as a firefly, make a few tweaks, check to confirm everything’s working fine… and then he can mod the wisp stuff in if he wants to. Later.”

Those last words hang between them like a crooked painting on the wall. With what record of the code?

Maybe Joel keeps a copy of his mods. He’s supposed to. But then, he’s supposed to do a lot of things.

“I don’t think Joel would mind if-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” says Etho, swiveling his chair. His voice is steady, but he shakes his head. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Well, that’s one way of talking yourself down. I think I have exactly the right amount of faith, thank you very much.”

Etho taps a few more keys. “Maybe another day, then… When I can talk to Joel. He might remember things. It’s his body. I’m just borrowing it.”

Silence.

“Snrk.”

“I heard it when I said it,” he gripes, and shoves her from his shoulder.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

10 notes · View notes

svtcrus · 2 days

Text

THE WORLD OVER YOU || gojo satoru x gen!reader

synopsis: he chooses the world. it will always be for the world. for he is always one step ahead. as it was never about him from the start.

disclaimer: JJK MANGA 261 SPOILERS, lowkey angst, mentions of death

a/n: sorry for being gone! life’s gotten a bit busy..! hope this quick lil blurb will do you guys well :)

“what?” was the first thing said after staring at your lover in silence for the past 2 minutes. your eyes wide threatening with tears, and your brain mangled in confusion.

satoru looks at you with an expression you cannot decipher. his bright blue eyes never seemed to look as empty and emotionless as they do now. his countenance tells you nothing. it leaves you with nothing but shattering confusion.

(SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT)

“my body. i’m giving up my body to yuta if I die. we already talked about it, there will be no changes y/n.” he repeated. as if you didn’t hear it the first time. you understood him loud and clear. you had furrowed brows, a racing heart, and fingers clasping so tight you swear it would leave a scar.

it had just felt like you were born, lived, and died all at once in the spot.

“‘toru you can’t be serious-!” before you knew it you felt slight streams come down your cheeks. and it wasn’t out of the sadness at the idea he had planned this. it was sadness at the fact he may be sacrificing for a society that has only ever used him since the very beginning. that he is allowing them to ruin him, string your lover like a puppet till even after death.

all you had ever wanted was for him to be liberated, freed, unbound from this power. this power and strength; these abilities he was born with since he came to this world. you had all but wanted to see him be just satoru for one moment whether it was in life or when he died.

you were never extremely worried at the thought that satoru would die one day. you had expected— even thought of times— that there may come a day where he’s coming to your arms dangerously harmed or even dead. it was what you signed up for since the day you accepted lifelong commitment with him.

what you did not know that you were also giving up was the very fact given to you today.

“I have to. If we wish to beat sukuna, we have to plan every type of plan we can. we need backup plans, we need more than just a plan a and b.” the sound of his feet clicking against the wooden floors of his office ring. he’s stepping closer, cold hands grasping onto your arms. they glide down to hold your own hands, which are shaking. in which you didn’t even realize were.

“y/n, sweetheart. this is what you and I both knew when we took this job. when you knew of who I am. who I was born to be since the day my six eyes were known…” you could say it was silent, yet at the same time your quiet sniffles was the only thing heard. satoru looked down at you, with only a saddening but acceptive look.

“we both knew I wouldn’t be living till I was 90. with this job? I was fated to fight someone of equal or of stronger power than me. sure this way of life sucks, and if I can I would love to spend another lifetime with you till i’m 90.”

“but it’s simply not possible here… isn’t it? you are willing to do anything yet not everything for me. for us.” you finish off. knowingly understanding that you cannot change this mans mind once he’s made the decision. you should’ve expected this. satoru has always thought ahead since the day you met when you were both still students yourself.

“you’re always one step ahead of me.” satoru lightly chuckles at this. he takes this as a green light to finally embrace you. the setting sun dawning onto his back from behind. and you’ve never felt more warm and cold at the same time.

“my job requires me so... the world requires me so.”

@svtcrus || 05.23.24

do not copy, plagiarize, modify, repost my work

#imissgojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk 261 #jjk headcanons #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo imagine

265 notes · View notes

jame7t · 8 months

Note

Why so _______

- The ______

Fill in the blanks!

“Why songbirds?” She asked, fiddling with the faux-feathers. “Wouldn’t a corvid be a better fit for a… spy?”

Melvik rolled his eyes again, as if spywork and the elaborate creation of false-life was a simple thing that his temporary protégée was failing to grasp. “Sure, yeah, ravens are nosy little fucks- but when you see one, you watch it. They’re smart. You look at birds like that. You can feel them watching you. And watch one too closely…”

“…you’ll notice it’s fake,” she finished. “Okay, but why songbirds? They make so much noise.”

“It gets drowned out in the pack. Flock. Whatever. And that’s the point, too. Nobody expects a spy to make noise.” He leaned back from the desk, a single false bird complete- one more to the pile. He plucked the soon-to-chirp thing from the wooden bench, and placed it on the metal sheet her siblings sat motionless on. “Five-four. I take the lead again.”

Gloria furrowed her brows at him- it’s not her fault she’s the only halfwit in the spire who knows about faux-life the month before deployment. “Where IS your little helper, anyway? How come I’m stuck here helping you?”

Melvik leaned forward awkwardly to start on another songbird. “He decided he’s an aspirant.” He spit the word.

“Little Crug? He’s an aspirant?”

Melvik raised his eyes to meet Gloria, and gave a single small nod.

“Good lord- The other children call him Crug, how is he gonna be an aspirant?”

“He’s not. He’ll wash out.”

“Right.” Gloria looked down at the spy in her hands, realizing she’d inserted a feather backwards. “Fuck.”

Continuing as if they hadn’t reached the natural stopping point, Melvik sighed- “It’s like he’s ignored everything he’s good at in favor of something that’s get him killed even if he doesn’t flunk out. Which, mind you, he will!”

Fumbling with a misplaced leg, his rant continues.

“Even if he does, somehow, become a pilot, which one would he even drive? The Mercello? The damn Mercello? We need things other than Titans to protect the Keep!”

Gloria nods, half listening. She opens her mouth to interject- not yet sure if she agrees- but Melvik isn’t done.

“He’s going to wash out of training, and when he comes back with half his motor functions intact, he’s gonna be sorry when I don’t let him back in. I can’t!” He meets Gloria’s eyes. “It’d be a security risk at that point. You get it, don’t you?”

She gives him an uncertain half-smile; the act of becoming an aspirant is seen as noble- a sacrifice, even. But those who ‘wash out’ are not often kept in high regards. Gloria’s cousin was one such unfortunate aspirant.

Melvik sees the uncertainty and relents- his eyes close, and he opens them to view the rotten thing in his hand. He managed to insert both legs backwards in his anger- and maybe, he dreaded, his age.

“I just needed one. One guarantee this craft wouldn’t be lost when… when I lose it.”

Gloria grimaced- she didn’t think her workmanship was that bad. “I’m sure there’s others who’ll keep it up. You know? You’re not the only weaver.”

“Nobody knows how to weave like I do.”

“And why’s that? What’s your special secret?”

“Nobody knows how- they-“

“Come on, then! Spill it! Nobody knows how to what?!”

“Fill in the blanks!”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he groans, continuing far past the natural stopping point. “Real songbirds don’t just ‘start and stop’- real foxes don’t just sit and watch. You have to make them real. You have to make them feel real.”

“So what you’re saying is, the director pays you extra because you play with puppets.” She meant it as an insult- she certainly thought so.

Melvik grins.

He looks to the small, soon to chirp thing in his hands- legs corrected, little beady eyes ready to see. “Yeah…”

He envisions the Titans- the pilots sitting within their puppet-rigs, marching along the ocean front; watching for the minions of the Corpse Moon to meet them along the coastal crags.

“Puppets.”

Maybe he does understand.

#I dodge your challenge deftfully!

483 notes · View notes

luveline · 11 months

Note

jade to say i’m obsessed with eddie and roan is an understatement. can we see r walk in on eddie and roan having a tea party and the fun that follows - tysm ily!!!

thank you for your request my love! dad!eddie x fem!reader

You're so used to coming home to Eddie in the kitchen that his not being there actually makes you nervous. The feeling doesn't last very long —you can hear him laughing in the living room.

You close the door quietly and slip out of your shoes. You hang your coat and bag on the bannister of the stairs and walk the short distance to the living room door, immediately laying eyes on your very favourite people in the whole world.

When Eddie and Roan first moved in with you, you gave away your coffee table to make room for some of her toys. Eddie was horrified at first: you were moving in together, and it was scary, and you knew he was scared of you changing your mind, so he hated how many changes you made. The child proof locks on the cleaning supplies cabinet, the new kitchen table with enough seats for all of you, the improvement of your guest bedroom into a princess paradise of silk sheets and fairy lights for Ro. The thing that scared him most of all was the coffee table, worried you were cutting things out of your life for them, worried you would resent him for that.

You have yet to feel any such emotion. You didn't even really like the coffee table, though that isn't the point.

Roan's picnic table, painted pink you know by Eddie when she was maybe three years old, is flocked by mismatched chairs. There's a drum stool from a set of drums Eddie doesn't own, a pink and green plastic chair, and a regular wooden stool with a flower painted on the seat. Eddie sits on the flower stool, Roan sits on the pink and green chair like a throne, and the drum stool remains empty, though a Teddy has been propped up on the leg with a saucer in hand.

"I need more sugar in mine," Eddie says, holding his cup out to Roan.

She holds court. In her favourite turquoise princess dress that's getting much too small for her, the back button undone, and a plastic tiara you got for her when you barely knew her, Roan takes a little plastic spoon from the table and spoons imaginary sugar into Eddie's teacup.

"Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome."

Eddie doesn't look nearly as royal. He's wearing sweatpants but no shirt on account of the insufferable hot weather, his tattoos always surprising despite having seen them hundreds and hundreds of times.

There's his simple flock of bats, his demon puppeteer and its puppet on strings. There's the clock over his heart, hands pointing to the time his mother passed. That one shocked you the most, when he told you. He doesn't talk about his mom much. When he does, it's with the reverential adoration of a child who thinks the world was made by their parent, exactly how Roan speaks about Eddie when he's not around.

And there's his R, for Roan, behind his ear. You can barely see it. You'd paid for it as a birthday present not that long ago, and ever since he's started wearing his hair back more and more, like he wants to show it off. He usually has his hair tied back at work anyways, and the heat today is stickying.

He’s shirtless but wearing socks, you realise. What a weirdo.

"We could have a real tea party," Eddie suggests. "I'm not busy. I can make some sandwiches and we can have sweet tea?"

"Y/N will be home soon," she says, shaking her head.

"She won't mind."

"No, but she doesn't like sandwiches."

"Who told you that?"

"She says they're not big enough."

"She means when you only eat one and nothing else for your lunch at school, babe. She wants you to eat the crackers and the cut fruit, too, so you're not hungry before you come home."

Roan shrugs. Eddie shrugs back, laughing, and takes a pretend sip of tea. "Well, excuse me," he says against the lip of his teacup.

"I like sandwiches," you say, finally breaking your cover.

Eddie flinches bodily, not having known you were there, his saucer tumbling to the floor. Roan doesn't flinch but she does shout, "Woah!" and stands up from her chair.

"Sorry, Eddie," you say with a laugh. "I didn't mean to scare you. Sandwiches can be such a spooky business."

"Loser," he says, standing too.

Roan climbs onto the couch and up over the back to get her after school hug. You receive her eagerly, her cool lengths of skirt and all her dark curls under your hands as familiar as her smell, baby shampoo, jelly bean body wash, and the pleased laughing sound she makes as she rubs her face against your neck.

"You used to be so little," you say, propping your cheek on her temple.

Eddie meets your eyes over her head and grimaces at you. "She's getting older every day."

"We missed you a lot," Roan says.

"You did? What for? It's only been a couple of hours."

"Because we love you and we need you to have dinner."

You laugh suddenly. It actually hurts, like a cough, "You just wanted me to come home so you could have dinner."

"Not true," she says, sounding guilty.

"You not feeding my girl?" you ask.

"We had a whole bag of honey barbecue chips waiting!" Eddie denies, rounding the couch to kiss your cheek. "And they were awesome and we didn't save any for you. Suck it."

"Mean."

"Will you come and have a cup of tea?" Roan asks you, taking on a posh effect.

"Oh, I'd be delighted," you croon in a bad proper accent.

Roan beams, overjoyed, and bounces back down onto the couch. You sit down at her tea table as Eddie leaves for the kitchen, calling, "Two minutes, I'm making some sandwiches for my poor hungry offspring!"

He returns with a plate of big sandwiches, another bag of chips, and a jug of sweet tea you'd been steeping in the fridge. Your stomach rumbles as soon as you set eyes on the food and Roan is the same: Eddie sets the sandwiches down between you, and you and Roan descend on them like piranhas scenting blood.

He gathers the tea cups and the small teapot and takes them to the kitchen. They're damp when he brings them back and sits down, "Ready for tea," he says. "All clean."

Eddie pours tea from the jug into the teapot and allows Roan the honour of pouring it into your cups. She's ecstatic. He's made her incredibly, overwhelmingly happy with such a small gesture, her little face contorted by the force of her smile.

"For you, good sir," she says, lifting her teapot from Eddie's cup.

"Thank you, madam," he says.

She lifts her pert chin. "Of course, Mister Munson. Tea, lady?" she asks you.

Your mouth is so full of sandwich you can barely speak. "Yes, please."

She chuffs happily and fills your cup. Eddie leans across the table to tuck her wild hair behind her ears, all the gentleness of a devoted father but all the expertise of someone who's had to corral unruly curls for more than twenty years.

"Please get off," she says.

Eddie tucks his hands under his thighs, properly chastised. "Sorry, babe."

"It's okay. Do you want chips?"

"Not in my tea, right?"

"No, dad, with your sandwich, duh."

"Duh," you echo.

He reaches under the table to punch your thigh. You jump and ram your knee into the table, tea sloshing over the sides of your cups. Roan squeals in horror, while Eddie laughs and pinches you again.

512 notes · View notes

xrag-dollx · 18 days

Text

𝑩Ü𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑯 (𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓)

~ Kai Anderson x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Reader gets humiliated by Kai after he failed his night of a thousand tates. Reader's getting punished for it.

WORD COUNT: 1,980

WARNINGS: smut, rough and unprotected sex, public sex, knife play, Kai being a dominant ass :) (not requested if you're under 18!)

A/N: got inspired by Rammstein's song "Bück dich!" sooo I had to write something Kai related (he gives me huge Rammstein vibes ngl) Also this is my first ever Evan character fic 🙃

"Bück dich", befehl ich dir Wende dein Antlitz ab von mir Dein Gesicht ist mir egal Bück dich"

"Bend over! is what I command you

Turn your face away from me

I do not care about your face

bend over!"

The last days were hard for you, at least being together with Kai. He had no success in his upcoming disaster for his „night of a thousand Tates“, so he had to re-think his strategy. It was quite time consuming for him to re-construct a whole new plan and, of course, nerve-wrecking. So he was treating you basically like an object for the past few days. Yet, you got used to it. Was there a desire inside of you to burn him alive? Yes. Do you still love him? Yes. But you just couldn’t let go of him. You just didn’t really know why. Was it because he was so charismatic? So damn attractive? He had you with a flick of his wrist the first time you saw him…

It was last summer as he held one of his public speeches for his election as a councillor. You were immediately hypnotised by his whole presence, the way he spoke, the way he gestured along his speech…he was simply mesmerizing. You believed every single word of his, everything he made up. That’s when you fell down a spiral of delusions. He made you feel better, he promised you a successful life, actually being worthy! But now, you’re just worthless…

He was dragging you by your hair downstairs his basement as you went on all fours, crawling down the cold and creaking stairs. This will surely leave some bruises on your knees, but as if that wasn’t just the beginning of Kai’s fit of rage.

„SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!“

He yelled at you as he violently tucked your hair by every line he spoke. The immense pain on your scalp was running through your every nerve of your body, as far as you still had some and your nerve system didn’t go numb yet by the pain you received on a daily basis. Tears of pain and inner rage were streaming down the sides of your eyes, leaving stains of black mascara on each side of your cheeks. You went silent completely, as you weren’t quite sure if he’d kill you in the next moment. You couldn’t help but let out a few huffs as your teeth clenched to restrain the pain.

Tears blurred your sight as he dragged you to the middle of the room as you got surrounded by his followers wearing their silly clownmasks. Kai chuckles in amusement, his head was tilted to the side as he looks at you with a dirty grin…

„Look at her... Such a dirty, little whore…you get what you deserve. After all, you’re the reason we failed the night of a thousand Tates. You’ll pay for that...“

You kneeled onto the wooden floor as your head was hanging down. You remained silent. You just wanted to avoid to look at Kai nor his filthy followers. Just puppets of Kai‘s and victims of their pitiful selves…

„Now… wanna give me an explanation?“

Kai looked at you… you could feel his impatience was roaming the room. Tension was building up. But you refused to speak. Not even a minute was passing by and Kai pulled your head up by your hair in an instant, as he forcefully made you look at him.

„Our whore isn’t speaking…hmh…“

He threw you onto the floor as you were sobbing and still refusing to talk to him.

„Suit the action to the word, the word to the action!“

Kai spoke out as he raised his hand and snapped with his fingers as madness was coming over him…

„Chair!“

Kai demanded as one of his followers handed him a chair as he was placing it in the middle of the dimmed room as light spots shone from the ceiling, giving it an oppressive atmosphere.

He took a sit. The silence was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. It exchanged the oxigen you needed to breathe. He pulled you up by your hair as you grunted, he pulled you over his lap, your blank ass facing him as it got exposed by your lose skirt. You could feel the dimmed light beaming down as it was just right above you, it made you feel like you were an exhibit in a museum. It made you uncomfortable. So did the followers, standing around Kai and you in a circle like mannequins, as if they were about to stare holes into your flesh.

„You won’t speak…so this will be your misery you’ve put yourself in.

You could feel how Kai’s hand prowled over your exposed skin, as he softly trails over your ass with his cold fingers. He closely leaned into your ear, his breath just stroking the delicate skin…

„You went away with it for too long…you’re disappointing…you’re worthless…you’re nothing, you hear me?“

His voice was so low and calm, still so terrifying. It creeps into your ear as it oscillates with a soft reverb. You were waiting for his next move. Maybe you’re going to die today, you already prepared yourself mentally for it.

„I’ll say it one time, and one time only. Don’t you dare to look at me. If you do, this’ll be your last day. Am I clear?“

Your blood froze as he spoke out these sentences. You knew he could be serious. But maybe he was fooling you. Something he enjoys to do to torture somebody’s nerves to death.

You shook your head in agreement. You could hear a soft chuckle escaping his throat. He reached into his pocket of his jeans as he pulled out a jackknife. You could hear the prominent ‘click‘ sound as he flipped the knife.

„I’m gonna call you ‚whore‘ from now on…fits better after all, doesn’t it?“

His stupid small talk only made your stomach turn. You could actually feel how a dirty smile formed on his lips. You’d rather play a reverse card on him only to stab him with his knife. Then you’d be a free woman. You thought. But instead, you kept as silent as possible, not to upset the blue haired psycho any further. You could feel the cold blade was grazing tantalizing over your ass, and with a swift move, he cut your panties on one side, and one cut through the middle part. He removed the garment from your body as your shivered, dropping it onto the carpeted floor.

„Oh? What do we have here? A needy whore?“

He spoke as he spotted your aroused entrance, as it was begging to get fucked by Kai. But you couldn’t help but to pull yourself together not to make any noise. All you could do was to stare onto the floor…what was his next move? You thought. It could get worse, definitely. You were waiting for it. You reflexively wanted to turn your head up to Kai but there was that one damn demand of his…and you didn’t want to die yet, so you kept silent instead. You felt how Kai was spreading your ass cheeks, as he spits directly onto your asshole. You were slightly trembling, as you felt how the warm liquid was touching your exposed skin. You knew what he was about to do…you knew it would contain pain…

„On your knees and bend over, now!“

He spoke in a loud and demanding manner, but you didn’t move, not a bit…and it made Kai lose his mind…

„I SAID NOW, YOU FUCKING WHORE!“

He shouted as his usual bariton voice became scarily angry. He grabbed a fistful of your hair as he pulled you off his lap to throw you onto the floor and made you go onto your knees as he basically forced you to do it.

With trembling arms and knees, which held you up with the last strength you had, you forced yourself not to faint as a mixture of sweat and tears was running down your cheeks.

„AND DON’T YOU FUCKIN‘ LOOK AT ME!“

He shouted as he undid the buckle of his belt, removing it from his jeans, as you heard the belt sliding through the belt loops.

Your mind wandered though hundreds of possibilities of what he was about to do…is he going to-

But ‘til you could finish your spoiled thought he already did it; he placed one firm and painful whiplash onto your bare ass as the pain electrified your nerve system. You cried out in pain as you collapsed….you could feel the sheer bliss of Kai’s oh so beloved clown puppets (as they were not more than that), you could actually feel how they were laughing internally, as they weren’t even moving one bit.

„GET UP! C’MON!“

He hissed as he harshly grabbed your tousled hair, using it to put you back to your previous humiliating position, as you did so as you positioned yourself back on all fours.

„Tss…you’re so pathetic…“

He murmured as he was slowly walking back and forth in front of you in such a teasing way as he looked down at you in a rather pitying manner, a smile almost invisible yet visible graced his lips as his gaze did not leave you for even a nick of a second.

„…You dissapointed me…“

Kai spoke while he unzipped his trousers, as he stopped in front of you, his eyes, pitch black were looking at you with such anger, he was able to kill you just with his gaze if he wanted to. You knew you couldn’t look at him so you carefully listened to his degrading words instead.

„You cannot destroy me…“

You heard him speak while rustling noises filled the room; Kai took off his pants along with his boxers as he now placed himself behind you.

„But I’ll destroy you…“

With these words he rammed his rock hard dick right inside of your asshole, your mouth was agape as you let out a drawn out moan.

„Yeah, moan for me you stupid whore, take it all… you want it so badly, right?“

He huffed as he mercilessly pounded into you like an animal, as he grabbed your hair for friction.

„Hmmh…you’re so worthless…so…ugh…fuck…“

Kai groaned as he fucked you ruthless from behind, as he grabbed your ass with his veiny hand, while his other hand was pulling your hair towards him.

„Repeat after me… I’m such a failure“

He spoke as he wanted you to blame you for everything. You’re the reason he failed his masterplan. But everything you wanted to do was to stop Kai from the worst before things went out of hand …He was just going crazy. But you just obeyed, or you’d get killed.

„I-I’m such a…uggh…failure..hmmh..“

You breathed between each thrust, as the pain made your body numb. Sweaty straints of hair decorated your face.

„Yes, you are…argh…shit…I’m gonna -„

He couldn’t even finish his sentence as he reached his orgasm as you felt how his warm seed filled you up, Kai loosened his grip from your hair as he pulled his dick out of your asshole, leaving you unsatisfied with physical and psychial pain. You collapsed onto the floor as your breath was trembling. The circle of Kai’s followers split apart as they marched upstairs and left the basement without a word. Kai put his jeans back on, as he was using his foot to flip you onto your back as you were totally wasted, lying on the floor sobbing and crying out of pain you received by Kai. Kai couldn’t care less about your condition, as you were one of his many mannequins. He took you for granted for his own pleasure.

„This is what you get for not obeying…whore.“

He spoke, his voice…dark and frightening. He spit right into your face before he left, leaving you on your own. You wiped the tears mixed with Kai’s saliva out of your face, thoughts were passing your mind like bullets of regret...

Why do you still love him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Wanna say thank you to @fear-is-truth and @doll3tt33 for being my biggest inspirations ❤🙏🏻 you gave me the courage to write 😽)

Gonna tag my favourite blogs @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re , @silverzoomies , @taintandviolent

#kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #american horror story #americanhorrorstorycult #tate langdon #jimmy darling #james patrick march #kyle spencer #kit walker #rory monahan #mr gallant #austin sommers #kai anderson smut

107 notes · View notes

pansyfemme · 7 months

Text

*sighs and pulls my cigarette out of my mouth, rubbing my eyes and looking weary.* yknow. everyones always asking me how i transitioned. how long ive been on t, who did my surgery. whatever. fucking small talk. i didnt want this to get out, i really didnt. but i wished on a star, ok. I wished on a fucking star. dandelions too, i never claimed to be perfect. birthday candles? oh you dont even want to know the things i wished on. but a long time ago i used to be a little wooden puppet. also a girl. i was a girl puppet. i’m still transgender, i wouldnt lie about that. but i said “i wish i was a real boy. and yeah i said boy.” i came out to that fucking star. i had wished so many times.. but the next morning i woke up in a hospital, my tits fucking gone and a testosterone prescription written. dont be ridiculous. i had to stil go through the whole medical process, it was just a bit sped up. yeah thats how it works. but anyways. yknow. i never wanted to say it. wanted to go the rest of my life pretending i was just like everyone else. but i can only keep so much from you. come on. tonight’s supposed to be a beautiful night for stargazing. if it worked for me, it can work for you.

211 notes · View notes

little-diable · 1 year

Text

Superficial Love - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

There's just something about writing fics that start in a church, and I ain't sorry about it. I'm not religious nor do I believe in God, but somehow it always works out in these fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is trapped in a marriage with a cheating husband, while she is crushing on the handsome doctor that has promised her once that he'd always be there for her. God's timing is always right.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), cheating, religious connotations, very much fluffy

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes fluttered open, hands still interlaced. She was kneeling, knees pressed into the red pillow of the wooden bench, praying to the God she had been calling out to for years. Golden eyes were staring down on her, making a smile tug on her lips. “Can I?”

“Please, sit.” Carlisle sat down next to her, eyes wandering to the wooden cross dangling over the altar. For a few seconds they were engulfed by silence, caught up in their thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“I rarely come here, but every now and then I feel myself pulled closer. My father was a pastor, I think I never quite got rid of my belief.” His words were nothing more than whispers, spoken into the empty church as if God himself was listening in on their conversation. She could tell that he was plagued by something, just like she was, hoping that the answers they were looking for would come their way.

“I get it, this place certainly holds a special place in my heart, maybe it’s the quietness it offers.” A sad smile was shot his way, breath caught in her lungs as (y/n) found Carlisle already looking at her. His hand found her knee, squeezing just enough to wordlessly express that he’d listen to whatever she may feel like sharing. “You know,” she swallowed, shaking her head to fight through the sadness tightening up her throat. “It’s not easy, it feels like I keep and keep on trying, but he doesn’t care. I think he’s cheating, at least that’s what the sickly-sweet smell of perfume sticking to his clothes tells me.”

(Y/n) had been trapped in her marriage for years, married to a man that had lost his interest in her and the life they were once sharing months ago. But even though he clearly kept her around to make his life easier, she didn’t find the strength to pull away, unable to snap apart the last strings he was holding in his fingers, guiding her like a puppet.

“I told you once, if you ever need my help, I’ll be right there for you. My family would welcome you with open arms.” Carlisle squeezed her legs one more time before he tried to pull his hand away, though stopped by (y/n)’s own hand finding his, slowly interlacing their fingers.

There always had been something keeping the two connected, ever since she had crossed paths with Carlisle at the hospital, grateful for the doctor that had stitched up her wound from tripping on a hike. From that very moment on, he had been on her mind, her own safe haven she’d disappear to when things got too rough, imagining her life by his side. Nothing more than harmless dreams she kept clinging to, desperate for something good.

“I,” a shaky breath was exhaled by (y/n), eyes set on their hands. “I wouldn’t be able to go back, and I don’t think that’s a risk I’m willing to take just yet.”

Carlisle pondered over (y/n)‘s words for a few moments before he slowly let go of her hand, rising from his position to turn towards her. He stared down on her for a second before his cold hand found her warm cheek, lips meeting her forehead to murmur a small, “I’ll be there, whenever you want me to.” And with a sad smile tugging on her lips, (y/n) watched the tall man leave the church.

“God, I’m begging you, give me a sign.”

…

It took five days for the sign to appear - at least for something (y/n) interpreted as a sign. It was a rainy evening, she had been sitting on her sofa, eyes set on her watch. The seconds kept fading by, minutes slowly turning into an hour. Just this morning her husband had promised her a night out, murmuring something about “wanting to work on our marriage”, words that have left (y/n)‘s heart jumping in excitement. Excitement that has now turned into sadness, a tiring sadness that was slowly pulling her under.

She could only guess that he was with the woman he had been seeing behind her back for the past months. A sign she had been waiting for, deep down praying that God, or whoever was listening to her prayers, would finally give her the push she needed.

With a sigh rolling off her tongue, (y/n) rose from her position, making her way into her bedroom to start packing her clothes into a bag, at least enough clothes that would help her survive for the next few days. She had been scared of the pain that would cling to her once she found herself facing this very situation, and yet the pain didn’t come, instead a soaring wave of anger was clashing through her system, forcing her to make her way out of the dark house, starting her car to make it towards her destination.

The rain made it harder for her to see, accompanied by the thick darkness that engulfed her. From afar (y/n) could take in the expensive mansion, the light flooding through it and the windows giving off a beautiful view into the forest. She could only hope that he was home, and that he’d actually stick to his promise and welcome her.

(Y/n) parked her car in front of the mansion, eyes barely able to take in her surroundings, deeply inhaling before she ripped open the door, racing up the stairs to the entrance. Trembling hands knocked on the wood, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hoping that he’d open the door soon.

“(Y/n)?” Carlisle stared at her with a smile tugging on his lips, welcoming her with his hand finding the small of her back. She was dripping, clothes soaked through and sticking to her limbs, and yet she couldn’t help but chuckle, eyes not daring to part from his.

“I’m sorry it took me this long, but I finally had enough.” He studied her for a few moments, not able to bite down his smile as he squeezed her side. Carlisle guided her upstairs with a soft “Let’s get you warmed up” rolling off his tongue, not daring to part from her. Wordlessly (y/n) followed him through the house she had been in numerous times before, spending her afternoons with the doctor she had fallen for months ago, wanting to be close to him at any given chance.

“You can take a shower if you want, I’ll make you some tea.” They were standing in his bedroom, eyes not able to break contact just yet. A small nod was the only reply she could give him, unable to speak up due to her racing heart and her dry mouth. Carlisle turned from her, laying out some dry clothes of his before he tried to leave the room, held back by the whisper of his name.

(Y/n) took a step closer, and another, till she came to rest right in front of him. For a few seconds they were engulfed by silence, trapped in the crackling atmosphere that left her skin tingling. Perhaps it was God giving her the push she needed, perhaps it was the rush of the moment she couldn’t escape from, but perhaps it was simply the comfortableness Carlisle emanated. She shifted her weight onto her toes, eyes flickering down to his lips before she softly kissed him, testing the waters.

Carlisle immediately drew her in, hands finding her waist to keep her in place. His cold lips perfectly moved in sync with hers, not daring to part as they got lost in the new sensation. No longer did (y/n) care about the cold sticking to her limbs, no longer did she worry about the soaked through clothes of hers.

His cold hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her skin before he slowly parted from her, smiling at the heavily breathing woman in front of him, “Get in the shower, I’ll wait downstairs for you.” And with one last kiss pressed against her lips, he left (y/n) with her racing thoughts alone.

…

“You know, I begged Him for a sign, anything that would finally wake me up from the nightmare I was trapped in.” Her soft voice echoed through the living room, eyes set on the dark forest, body pressed against Carlisle’s chest. His fingers danced up and down her arm, smiling at the woman he had finally managed to lure closer, not wanting to part from her and the life they’ll live ever again.

“Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’ve begged for a long time that you’d find your way to me. Deep down I knew I’d eventually get lucky, if one can call this luck.” She turned her head towards the doctor, shooting him a smile before she kissed him. Her hands found his chest, gasping against his cold lips as he pulled her into his lap. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding in her chest, wanting to reach out to his, too oblivious for her own good, not understanding that his heart hadn’t been pumping any blood for the past centuries.

“We have all the time this world can offer, we don’t have to rush anything.” Carlisle’s caring words left her smiling, chuckling against his lips. Fuck, it felt like a dream, finally able to love the man she had been secretly longing for for longer than she’d like to admit.

“I’ve waited too long for this, I don’t want to waste another second without being touched by you.” A squeal left (y/n) as Carlisle rose to his feet, with her legs slung around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. He carried her up to his bedroom, grateful for the empty mansion, knowing that he wouldn’t let her leave the room for the upcoming hours.

“If you ever want me to stop, tell me, please.” His calming words coaxed a whimper out of (y/n), not used to be treated like this. She found herself pressed against his mattress, grateful that she had decided against wearing his sweatpants, only wearing her panties and the dark shirt of his. Carlisle’s hands danced up her legs, spreading her thighs for his curious eyes, lips finding her soft skin, sucking marks into her inner thighs. The gasps of hers urged him on, smirking against (y/n)’s lips as he kissed his way higher and higher, coming to face with her soaked through panties.

“Look at you. So ready for me, my pretty girl.” Carlisle’s murmurs coaxed a deep moan out of her, hands fisting the fabric of his blanket, gasping as he pulled her panties down her legs, allowing the cold air to wrap itself around her trembling body. He was marvelling at her, soaking in this very moment, praying that he won’t ever forget about this.

“Please, don’t tease.” (Y/n)’s desperate words left him chuckling, giving in with his mouth finding her core, tongue pressed flat against her arousal covered folds. Her taste left him moaning, already high on her, savouring every drop he was offered. Carlisle’s nimble fingers found her clit, circling the bundle of nerves as if they had done this numerous times before. She was dripping for him, making it easy for the tall doctor to brush through her folds over and over again, teasing her with the rough surface of his tongue.

She was clenching around nothing, needing to feel more, wanting to be stuffed by him. It seemed like Carlisle managed to pick up on her body’s needs without (y/n) speaking up, fingers pushing into her to stretch her walls. The whimper that left (y/n) at the sudden intrusion coaxed a groan out of Carlisle, sound vibrating on her warm skin.

He curled his fingers, making her arch her back off the mattress, not used to being pushed towards the edge this quickly. Carlisle picked up the rhythm of his movements, eyes watching her pleasure-drunken features, how she pierced her teeth into her lower lip, how she had her eyes squeezed shut.

“God, I’m so close.” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, tightening her grip on his blanket to try and stop herself from giving in right there and then. She clearly struggled to hold back, choking on her gasps as if she was drowning and he was the salty water filling her lungs, forcing her to let go of the strength lingering in her muscles.

“Cum for me, let go, darling.” Carlisle sucked on her bundle of nerves, giving her the final push with his fingertips pressed against her swollen spot. His name spluttered from her lips like a waterfall cascading down her chin, filling the room like a song echoing through the night. She was trembling, limbs quivering against the mattress, not able to hold still as the powerful sensation filled her body.

“Christ, I’ve never felt like this before.” Her confession left him smiling, slowly letting go of (y/n) to move up her body, lips meeting hers. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss with her tired eyes falling shut and her weak hands tugging on his golden roots. Carlisle wrapped her in his arms, pulling (y/n) against his chest to allow her to rest, wordlessly communicating that he’d be right there to protect her.

#Carlisle Cullen smut #Carlisle Cullen imagine #Carlisle Cullen x reader #twilight

1K notes · View notes

radiocrypt-id · 1 year

Text

I think there's something poetic about Pinnochio that's crushing some of us more than others. Like, this little kid, this sweet baby was given life and from day one, minute ONE, was given a short list of rules to follow to earn his fathers affection. Because his father wanted a son, but a son cannot be made of wood, he must be a "real boy" to be a son. He's had to fight tooth and nail, splinter and varnish, to be what his father wants and the tiniest mistake? the ittiest bittiest littlest mistake? BOOM! wood.

By the end of his Story, Pinnochio figures it out. He's found the limitations, the hard lines of the laws of his life. If he is good, and kind, and doesn't ever lie, he gets to be loved, he gets to be a son. It's a solid box, small and ill fitting for a child, with no sign of what it will do to him as a grown up but that's not in his Story, so it doesn't matter. Maybe in his world, in Amanti, with his father, if The Times of Shadow never came, he would have been fine staying in that box. Being a good boy, and later man, and never once telling a lie lest he become unlovable wood.

But the Times of Shadow did come. And Pinnochio looked into the eyes of the Wicked Fairy, after hearing the screams of his friends fathers dying in the night, drowned and eaten and bled by rats and birds and all manner of critters of shadows. He saw the very thing he'd always been questioning stare him in the face with a sweet smile and screams at his back.

He saw the rules c h a n g e.

Before anyone else, Pinnochio saw a damned if he did situation and chose to be wood. He Chose to be an Unlovable, Bad, Little Wooden Boy, because he loves his father more than he fears being unloved. He'd rather be a puppet and with his father than be Real and be alone.

He loved his father so much, he made a deal with the Wicked Stepmother because she promised to take care of his father for him. After he lied to keep his father alive, safe from the Wicked Fairy and knowing he's just a little wooden boy, how could he possible keep his father safe, especially when he won't listen to pinnochio? Of course he'd agree to help the stepmother it it meant his father would be safe. Of course he'd take that sacrifice. Of course he'd die.

Pinnochio loves his father. Enough to be wooden forever. To be unloveable, bad, mischievous, foolish, left behind. Because Pinnochios life has always been harder than other children. He's used to it now. But now it has purpose. Now that repetitive hard line he'll never escape has given him the strength to survive. He's smart, fast, powerful in his own right and growing everyday. He's his own patron now. He wasn't built for the world he was forced into, but he's built for this one.

And isn't it terrible? To be in a world not made for you? Or rather, specifically designed to hurt you and only you? so that the actual end of the world isn't that big a deal at all?

"Sometimes, you have to lie... You have to lie to protect the one you love..."

#dimension 20 #pinnochio #lou wilson #d20 neverafter #neverafter #brennan lee mulligan #d20 spoilers #pinocchio neverafter #ylfa snorgelsson

948 notes · View notes

ursa-tan · 10 months

Note

Can I have a request for a wally darling x reader where the reader "captures" wally as the villain of the show and has a bit of a dom kink? This is for playfellowxxx and I am 18 years old. Is this ok to request?

You’re mine

Wally Darling x Fem!Villain!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Word count: 3,312 Reading time: ~12 mins

Part 1, Part 2

TW: None

A/N: Honestly this was the first proper request I've gotten and I got really excited to write it! I hope you like it anon! Also, the reader is approximately 6ft tall, just so everyone knows :) Also, I'm really sorry this took so long to put out, have had a lot of stuff going on in my personal life.

Wally awakens, dizzy and almost completely disorientated – just because he can’t sleep doesn’t mean he can’t be knocked out. The world around him seems to spin for a moment as he attempts to orient himself in the darkness. He tries to move his limbs yet finds himself almost unable to move, bar lightly wiggling his body. Soon, Wally comes to realise that his hands are bound behind his back, to the back of a chair. His legs are also bound, rope wrapped around his ankles to hold them together and to hold them to the chair as well.

The room is dark, murky, almost pitch black if it weren’t for the small beam of light piercing through the side of a blind and streaming into the room. It’s just enough to let Wally see what’s happening around him. The room is still around him, not much happening apart from the wind whistling gently through what he can only assume is an open window tucked behind the blind. There are boxes stacked up around the room, pushed to the edges to make way for a desk. The room itself is small, seemingly more of a storage room than anything else.

His concentration on the room is broken when a door opens from somewhere behind him. The sound of the door closing is joined by the clicking of hard bottomed shoes against the wooden floor. He feels fear course through him for a second, jolting him forwards slightly when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Wally, Darling,” a soft, feminine voice rings out from behind him. Wally already knows exactly who it belongs to. Its full of a sickening joy that causes a pit to open itself up in Wally’s stomach.

“(Y/n),” Wally growls, immediately becoming defensive. The presence of this puppet causes his skin to prickle, making him feel as if his hair is standing on end. “What do you want?” His voice is uncharacteristically sharp and cold, holding a malice that he reserves for when it’s just him and (Y/n).

“Oh, nothing much…” She walks round to his front, crouching down to find herself eye level with the significantly smaller puppet. Wally stares into her eyes, its one of the few times he’s able to do so. “Just thought you looked especially adorable the other day, couldn’t help but want to snatch you up.” Her voice is playful and flirtatious, it doesn’t match the situation in the slightest.

“You just like causing problems, (Y/n).” Wally can’t help but say her name again, something about it feels good in his mouth, feels like its supposed to sit on his lips.

“Ah, maybe I do, but you love me for it,” She chuckles lightly, standing back up and patting his thigh as she does so. The sudden contact makes him shudder, causing his body to jump – practically pressing himself into her palm. It causes her to freeze, only for a moment, leaning down to stare into Wally’s eyes again.

“Do you like that, Darling?” His last name drips from her lips just like it did before, yet this time it sounds so different. Its sticky and sweet and causes his head to spin slightly.

Wally goes to speak, to say something, but the hand on his thigh halts his voice entirely. He’s not entirely sure why, but he can’t think clearly. The hand on his thigh squeezes lightly, a pressure that causes him to shudder. He wants to lean into it, his mind fogging with something he isn’t quite sue of.

“I need to hear a yes Wally, or I’m going to take my hand away.” Her voice pulls him out of his seeming trance, his head snapping upwards. He stares at her, eyes meeting with a desperation that he didn’t know he could feel.

“Yes,” Wally whispers, pupils blowing wide as he stares.

“Good boy,” She chuckles, voice dripping with that same sticky sweetness from before. Her hand squeezes again, trailing up his thigh and towards his hip. It rests there for a moment before trailing back down to his thigh. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself there”

Wally can’t find it in himself to answer, only staring into (Y/n)’s eyes, vision slightly unfocused. He doesn’t understand why his head is so foggy, but he does know that he wants more of her touch. As a result, he does his best to push his thigh up into her hand.

“Oh, you really do seem to be enjoying yourself,” The smile in her voice is obvious, “I’m going to untie you now, ok? But you have to promise not to try and run.” She seems to have an idea that he can’t think of at all.

Wally just nods, the prospect of being untied doesn’t properly occur in his mind, the idea of escape a million miles away at this very second. He feels her fingers trail down his leg, the other hand joining to untie the rope binding his ankles together. It takes her a few moments of tugging before the rope comes undone, becoming slack and falling to the floor in loose rings. Wally takes a moment to part his legs, stretching them out before returning them to their previous position.

“Good boy, you’re so good for me,” she hums, both hands returning to his thighs, giving them both a squeeze. Her hands are so big, Wally’s sure that she could wrap her hand entirely around his thigh if she wanted to. He wants her to, at least. The words make Wally feel like he’s melting, becoming absolute putty in (Y/n)’s hands.

He melts more when (Y/n) moves behind him, hands coming to his bound wrists and starting to undo them. She’s much softer this time, fingers brushing the bare skin of his wrists as she undoes the ropes. After a few seconds, Wally feels the rope unravel and drop to the floor, yet he doesn’t move. Not even as (Y/n)’s hands begin to trail up his arms, eventually coming to rest on his shoulders, lightly brushing his neck. She stays there for a moment, gently kneading his shoulders, holding him like he’s made of glass. Then, suddenly, her hands are on his face, forcing it backwards so she can stare into his eyes.

“Hi, sweet thing,” she hums, her hands gripping his face rather harshly, forcing him to stay still. She could’ve let go as soon as she tilted his head back, however, Wally wasn’t going to attempt moving. “You look so pretty like this, pupils blown all wide.” She eases up her grip, now stroking his face.

Wally lets out a short sound, something next to a whimper. He can’t tear his eyes away form (Y/n)’s. Her eyes seem to sparkle with something that only serves to draw him in. Like the lore of an anglerfish, he was walking straight into the jaws of danger, yet he couldn’t look away.

(Y/n) tilts his head forwards again, so that she can lean forwards and place her hands on his thighs. They begin to move, one trailing up and under his jumper, under his shirt, splaying across his stomach. Her finger are so warm as they press against Wally’s bare skin. The warmth from her hands bubbled up through his body until it forces a short, soft moan from his lips.

Wally, unable to look into (Y/n)’s eyes from this angle, decides he doesn’t need to keep his eyes open and so let himself relax into the sensations. Eyes fluttering shut, Wally presses himself against her hands, one of his own reaching up to hold onto her bicep. He continues to let out soft moans as (Y/n)’s hands reach up and towards his chest, dancing her fingers delicately across his skin. He finds himself completely unable to focus on anything but the hand on his chest. Until, that is, (Y/n)’s other hand moves to his inner thigh.

It rests rather high up, nearly brushing against his clothed crotch, snapping him out of his earlier fog. The sensation causes Wally to gasp, attempting to buck his hips into her hand without even thinking – its nothing but an involuntary action. He’s desperate for her touch.

(Y/n) chuckles, it’s a sick, sardonic sound that Wally still loves none the less. In fact, he wants to hear it more. More of her voice, more of her. She pulls her hands from his body at the same time, an action that makes him whimper and squirm; but he doesn’t move, he wouldn’t dare.

Footsteps ring out once again as (Y/n) walks round and stops in front of the smaller puppet, crouching down at an attempt to be eye level with him. It doesn’t work, however, as she ends up about chest height, looking up into his blown-out pupils.

“Hey, pretty thing,” She hums, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You enjoying yourself?” Everything about her feels like a trap, yet Wally can’t help but lean in. If he gets snatched up and captured, its worth it, as long as it’s her.

“Yes,” Wally murmurs, eyes half lidded as he leans into her palm. He reaches up, one hand coming to rest on top of hers while the other holds her wrist. “Yes… So much…”

“My good boy.” She smirks as she speaks, her voice flirty and now dripping with lust. (Y/n) pulls her hand away as she stands up, and Wally can’t help but reach out for her as she moves away. He’s desperate to have her back against his skin.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not leaving,” She bends over, now actually being eye level with him, “get up for me, will you doll?”

Wally nods, scrambling to get himself out of the chair. (Y/n) has to take a step back as he hurries to stand so he doesn’t knock his head against hers. As soon as he’s on his feet, Wally is standing as tall as he can in front of her – something drives him to try and impress her.

“Oh baby, relax,” Her voice is sugar coated as she leans in, beginning to unbutton his cardigan. “There’s no need to be so tense.” She pulls his cardigan off, throwing it somewhere behind him. Part of him hopes it landed on the chair he had been sat on, he didn’t want it to get dirty, yet he also didn’t care.

His shirt came off next, being given the same treatment as his cardigan. Wally ignores the sound of it hitting the floor in favour of reaching up to start undoing his ascot. However, he doesn’t get far before (Y/n)’s hands are on his, pulling them away from his neck.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hums, holding his hands to her chest, cupping them near her collar bones, “that looks so cute on you, I want you to keep it on.”

“Ok…” Wally’s voice comes out as delicate whisper. His hands feel so small in hers, so warm and completely encapsulated.

“Good boy,” She mumbles, dropping his hands and gripping his hips instead and tugging him forwards. Her hands quickly begin work on the button on his trousers, popping it with one hand and using the other to undo the zip. (Y/n) has his trousers on the floor in seconds.

“Actually…” (Y/n) pauses for a second before reaching up, leaving Wally’s painfully hard and still in his boxers. Her hands come back to his ascot and tug at it, pulling it off. The red silk glistens lightly in the soft glow from the sun, laying in her hands.

“Eyes or hands?” She asks, suddenly making eye contact with Wally. He finds himself unable to answer, only able to stare into the perfection that is (Y/n)’s eyes.

“Wally, I’m only going to ask once more. Eyes or hands?” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, brining him back to reality far to fast for his liking.

“Eyes?” Wally mumbles, hesitating a moment before speaking. He’s unsure of what she means, and despite everything that she’d done in the past, he trusts her.

(Y/n) doesn’t answer, only reaching with the ascot in her hands. He isn’t given a chance to react before the red silk is being wrapped round his eyes, obscuring his vision entirely. Wally finds himself deprived of his favourite sense, the one he treasures more than anything else in the world – it should scare him… and yet it doesn’t.

(Y/n)’s hands are back on his hips within seconds of his eyes being covered, this time tugging at the waist band of his boxers. They’re pulled down to around his mid-thigh, freeing his erection and causing him to gasp in both shock and relief. Wally can feel her hands on his thighs, still holding the fabric of his underwear. Although that doesn’t last long, as she tugs them the rest of the way down, leaving them pooled around his ankles much like his trousers.

“Step forwards baby,” She says, holding his hips and guiding him as he takes a step. He’s now completely nude, exposed to her and unable to see anything. His heart is racing yet he wouldn’t change a single thing about what’s going on.

The smaller puppet lets out a yelp as he feels his feet leave the floor. Although he doesn’t flail or worry, as (Y/n)’s hands on his hips hold him steady. He can feel her shifting, but doesn’t know what’s going on until the underneath of his thighs meet her shoulders. He can feel her hair tickling his inner thighs, the wispy strands painting feather soft patterns into the soft, sensitive flesh.

Suddenly, the flat of her tongue is pressing against the underside of his cock. Its warm and wet and has him bucking his hips upwards blindly. He feels (Y/n)’s hands slide up his back, supporting him and holding him against her. Wally leans back into her warm palms for a moment, relaxing just for a second. It is only a second thought, her tongue is back on him, sliding from the base of the shaft to half way up before pulling away and repeating the pattern.

“(Y/n)…” Wally mumbles. This time, its his turn for his voice to drip with lust thick as honey. He reaches down, fingers fumbling to intertwine themself with her hair. Struggling for a moment, Wally finally gets his hands comfortably in her hair, holding the back of her head for support. He defiantly needs it as (Y/n) pulls away, adjusting her head to slip the tip of his cock into her mouth.

Wally bucks his hips forwards, desperate to feel the warmth of her lips around the base of his cock. He partially expects (Y/n) to pull her head away, to scold him for the action – but she doesn’t. Instead, she pushes her head forwards, taking his entire length in one go. It happens so fast that Wally feels himself hit the back of her throat. (Y/n) doesn’t gag.

The warm wetness of her tongue begins to lap at the underside of his cock once more. It’s a sensation that has Wally letting out moans, sounds that bubble up from his chest and spill past his lip. They’re completely uncontrolled sounds, slipping past his lips in the same way foam bubbles out of a soda bottle.

Wally can already feel himself reaching an end. Something about the way she moved, the way she treated him, was driving him towards an edge much faster than he would like to admit. It doesn’t help that he can’t see, that he’s been deprived of his most vital sense.

“(Y/n)-“ he rasps, gripping her hair and tensing his thighs to squish her head slightly. He feels his stomach muscles tense up, causing him to curl forward, around her head.

The taller puppet only hums in response, starting to bob her head. Deliciously slick sounds fill the room. (Y/n)’s hands pressing into Wally’s back to pull him closer, keeping him in place as her tong laves at his shaft. She doesn’t stop her movements or change her pace, continuing to bob her head slightly and swirl her tongue at the pace she had already set.

“I’m- I’m- (Y/n)- I’m-“ Wally can’t splutter out much more than the first word of the sentence that he’s desperately trying to string together. (Y/n)’s pace is driving his towards an edge that he doesn’t want to fall off of – if he does, this ends. Wally is desperate for it not to end.

His hands don’t move from their spot, finding a perfect purchase scrunched up in her hair, holding the back of his head. His hips, however, begin to falter and buck forwards as if they have a mind of their own. Both his body and mind are senselessly chasing pleasure, but only his body wants to reach the finale. And it does.

Wally tenses up fully as he finally reaches his peak, thighs clenching around (Y/n)’s head. His arms pull in tight, hips pushing forwards as he desperately tries to push himself as far down (Y/n)’s throat as possible. He manages to push until he’s hitting the back of her throat, his tip touching the soft warmth in a way that has his whimpering and pleading for more.

The smaller puppet finally spills himself into her mouth, painting her throat white and filling her mouth with a slightly bitter taste. (Y/n) doesn’t recoil though, instead swirling her tongue around his length and continuing to bob her head to the best of her abilities. Wally feels like she’s trying to pull out everything he’s got.

“A-Ah!” he yelps, the sensation suddenly becoming entirely too much. Wally is whimpering, trying to pull away, wordlessly pleading for her to stop.

Eventually, (Y/n) does, pulling away from him and letting him fall from her saliva coated lips. She keeps Wally sat on her shoulders, looking up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes sparkling with mischief in what little light there is in the room.

“Too much baby?~” She purrs, voice still filled with lust.

Wally can only nod, letting out another pathetic sound as he does.

“Oh, you poor thing… Come here,” She mumbles, shifting his position until he’s got his legs wrapped around her waist. Her tone is so much softer now, as is her touch, as she comes to gently cradle his shaking body against hers. She holds him so easily, her much larger hands supporting under his ass and against his back.

“Would you like a bath darling?” (Y/n)’s voice is right next to his ear as she speaks. It’s accompanied by feather light kisses full of love. Her hands are so warm, radiating outwards and into him in a way that almost has him falling asleep where he is. Wally shakes his head. All he wants now is to curl up and sleep.

“Ok then,” she pauses again to kiss the top of his head, something she can do now thanks to his pompadour falling apart, “What about something to eat? Or drink?” Her questions are so gentle, they don’t really need answers.

Wally shakes his head once again, burying his face in (Y/n)’s neck. Her skin is so soft, he can’t help but relax against her. Although that relaxing is interrupted for a moment when (Y/n) pulls the ascot free from his eyes, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Its most likely piles up with the rest of his discarded clothes.

She continues to hold him tight against her body as she walks. Wally is far too drowsy to pay attention to where they’re going. But he takes not of it - a few short steps and a turn to the left.

Suddenly, (Y/n) is shifting the blue haired puppet. He’s sitting in her lap, partially straddling her thighs with his head resting against her chest. (Y/n) in mostly laying down, hands resting on Wally’s back, providing a pleasing weight.

(Y/n) doesn’t say anything as she begins to stroke Wally’s hair, placing many short kisses on top of his head. He can slowly feel his grip on consciousness loosening. He knows he isn’t going to fall asleep, but he’s not going to be awake anymore.

“I’ve got you, baby,” (Y/n) mumbles. It’s the last thing Wally hears before the world slips away from him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #playfellowxxx #request #requested #smut #I was so excited to write this #antagonist x protagonist

271 notes · View notes

ugotnojamzzz · 19 days

Text

Rulers of Ruin Pt.I

Chapter 1

Alright so I’ve been toying with this complex mafia!au fic idea for a very long while and I guess it’s time to give it a whirl. I already have about ten chapters written out (I’m expecting it to be at least 20 chapters), but I want to test out the waters first. I’ll start posting more if some of you are interested in knowing what the hell is going on.

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: um, tf is going on??? Stay tuned for more chapters to come, because you are clearly about to be confused.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Her pulse echoed in her ears, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to sync with the slow return of her consciousness. A sharp pain throbbed at her temple, and a dull ache spread across her cheek when a voice sliced through the lingering fog in her mind.

“Rise and shine,” it sang.

Bound and blindfolded, she sensed the cold, hard back of a wooden chair against her spine. Panic clawed at her chest, and she made an instinctive, futile attempt to move her arms, only to find them securely tied. The room’s air was charged, heavy with an unspoken menace that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

As the blindfold was abruptly removed, a harsh light assaulted her eyes, forcing her to squint and struggle to orient herself in the unknown space.

Her gaze landed on a pair of unfamiliar eyes, their owner concealed in the shadows. "You're not gonna cause any more trouble, are you?" the stranger asked, his words heavy with an unspoken threat.

Her throat felt like sandpaper. “W-where am I?” The words scraped out of her, barely above a whisper.

Rather than answering, the stranger stepped closer, his features gradually unmasking from the shadows. He was young, platinum blonde hair framing a face that presented the kind of sharp angles that both captivated and cut. His eyes were fixed on her with a depth that tightened her stomach.

He leaned in, his hand lifting to trace a cold line down her jaw, prompting a reflexive flinch from the girl. “You're in a place where questions get answered if you cooperate,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming momentarily. "You’ve caused quite a stir around here. »

The girl’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could have led her to this place. "Please," she whispered, her voice quivering, "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else."

The corner of the man’s mouth quirked up in a knowing half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. He tightened his grip, fingers pressing uncomfortably into her jaw. "You may not remember my face," he said, the familiarity of his tone unsettling, "but I certainly haven't forgotten yours, little bird."

The nickname seemed to send a jolt of nervousness through the poor girl.

She continued to plead, her eyes welling up with tears, the very picture of fragility. “I-I don’t know who you are, there’s been a mistak-” she insisted, though her voice faltered.

The man’s expression hardened. "You should save your tears, » he said curtly, using his thumb to wipe the single bead rolling down her cheek, « I’m not the one you’ll need to convince.”

As her gaze dropped, she caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from under the man’s collar—an unmistakable symbol. The realization hit her like a wave.

She was not merely in danger - she was deep in enemy territory.

She’d been taken by the Kim clan.

A sudden banging on the door cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both to turn their heads sharply toward the sound. The door swung open, and four men entered the room. The air thickened with the palpable sense of impending action, and the girl braced herself silently.

“Guess it’s time to meet the boss,” the man said, looking back at her, “Go ahead, guys.”

Without a word, two of the men grabbed her firmly by the arms, hoisting her to her feet with practiced ease. They escorted her out of the room, their grips unyielding as they navigated her up a narrow, creaking staircase.

Every step heightened the girl’s alertness. As they reached the top of the stairs, she found herself in the expansive hall of what could only be described as a mansion. The opulence was almost disorienting, but her eyes, quickly adjusted to the surroundings. Golden light pierced through the curtains; it must’ve been the early evening. She noted the strategic placement of security cameras in every corner, barely concealed by the luxurious decor. The presence of armed men stationed discreetly at every doorway did not escape her eye either.

She was led into an elegantly furnished living room, where her eyes instantly landed on a tall man standing by the fireplace, his back facing her. Broad-shouldered and dressed in a finely tailored suit, he casually dangled a glass filled with amber liquid in one hand.

His voice, resonant and commanding, broke the silence without him needing to turn around. "Has she calmed down yet?"

One of the men still gripping her arm replied, "She hasn’t said a thing, but—" His words were abruptly cut off as the man by the fireplace raised his hand in a dismissive gesture without so much as a glance.

Then, with a smooth motion, he finally turned around.With a tight jaw, the girl scrutinized his features as he drew nearer. His eyes, deep and penetrating held a feline intensity.

Stopping in front of her shaking figure, he reached out and cradled her face with surprising gentleness. His fingers delicately grazed her bruised cheekbone, his touch careful yet firm, as if he were appraising something precious that had been marred.

The girl remained silent, her jaw clenched tightly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Observing her reaction, or lack thereof, he turned his attention back to his men, his voice taking on a sharp edge, "Who did that?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his subordinates, searching for the culprit. The room held its breath. “I said no touching her face."

The tall, broad-shouldered man sighed in frustration as the room remained quiet. Without another word, he walked slowly towards the blonde man who had been part of her escort. “Go get Seokjin,” he muttered. The shorter man nodded sharply and quickly exited the room.

Within a minute, the door opened again. This time, the tall man who entered wore a white coat that brushed against his calves. He approached the captive directly, his expression focused and professional, ignoring the others as if they were merely part of the room's elaborate decor.

As he neared, the guard holding her arm tightened his grip reflexively, a habitual show of dominance. She winced slightly—a brief, almost imperceptible reaction—but it did not escape the doctor's notice. His eyes shot towards the guard, piercing and stern. The intensity of his gaze was enough. Without a word needing to be spoken, the guard hastily released his grip on her.

The doctor then turned his attention back to his patient. He examined her face gently yet thoroughly, his fingers skilled and efficient as they traced the contours of her injury.

“We’ll make sure it heals nicely,” he finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of firm command, “there shouldn’t be a hint of a scar.”

Meanwhile, the man who appeared to be the leader paced before his men, his frustration evident in each measured step. He paused, turning to face them with an expression of controlled ire. "When will you understand the meaning of orders?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, his gaze piercing each of his subordinates in turn.

The men shuffled uneasily, their heads bowing slightly in a mixture of respect and fear. No one dared to meet his eyes.

The leader's hands clasped behind his back as he continued his slow, deliberate pacing. "We operate on precision and discipline," he lectured, his tone growing colder with each word. "Lapses like these—" he gestured dismissively towards the girl "—not only undermine our efforts but jeopardize our entire operation. » She shut her eyes as she took in his every word.

He stopped abruptly, standing straight "What do you think her brother is going to do when he sees that?” His voice rose slightly, as his eyes locked onto the platinum blonde, who seemed particularly uneasy, “huh, Jimin?"

The room had fallen into stunned silence when suddenly, a light giggle pierced the quiet. The leader spun around to locate the source of the sound. Everyone stood frozen in shock, realizing the unexpected laughter had come from the girl.

Realizing all eyes were now on her, the girl sighed nonchalantly. Perhaps it was time to drop the act. "He won't," she stated with a shake of her head. Her sudden firmness caught everyone off guard.

The leader paused, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "So, she does speak," he remarked with a biting tone, his steps deliberate as he closed the distance between them. His tall figure loomed over her. "Care to repeat?" he pressed, his voice low and commanding.

Her demeanor shifted; the façade of vulnerability dropped away, replaced by an air of cool indifference. Now that she knew where she was and who she was dealing with, there seemed to be no point in maintaining her mask of ignorance.

“I said he won’t see this,” she replied, her posture relaxed, an almost dismissive roll of her eyes accompanying her words. The room's atmosphere shifted palpably, her casual dismissal of the threat to her person surprising everyone present.

The leader gave a slight gesture of his hand, and with that, his men quietly exited the room, leaving only him, the girl, and the doctor.

"You know… you may want to look at your enemies' track record before you go on holding their family hostage," the girl continued, her tone breezy but edged with a sharpness that belied her relaxed posture. "But you do know of my brother already, so tell me-” she paused, her doe eyes locking with his, “what’s the plan, Namjoon-ah?"

The casual address was a clear breach of decorum, nothing short of a middle finger, really. It made the doctor pause in his ministrations, his hands freezing momentarily in shock at her audacity.

Namjoon’s reaction, however, was one of amusement rather than offense. His smirk deepened, a spark of respect—or perhaps appreciation—for her daring flitting across his features.

“I’m surprised you remember my face,” he remarked.

“A raven remembers both friends and foes,” she retorted.

"You’re quite bold, aren't you?" he mused aloud, his gaze appraising her anew. "For someone in your position, I mean."

The girl met his gaze, her own eyes unflinching. "I’m afraid boldness might be all I have left," she replied steadily.

"Alright,” the tension was momentarily pierced by the doctor's exasperated interjection, “are you finally going to tell me what the hell this all is about?"

Namjoon turned slightly, as smile playing on his lips, before addressing the doctor with a controlled calm. "Seokjin," he began, his voice smooth, "let me introduce you to our guest, Park Y/N."

Seokjin lifted his eyes to rest on the leader, his face etched with disbelief as he muttered a soft curse under his breath. Jesus fucking Christ.

Namjoon's eyes, however, never wavered from Y/N's, his gaze intense as he continued, “our very own Raven Gongju.”

___

*cue suspenseful music*

___

Hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters!

Chapter 2

Masterlist

69 notes · View notes

maehemthemisfit · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄

ask — Can I ask you that the reader 💋 them while they are 😥 and 💙 in order to 😇 them, (I really hope this makes sense) Characters: Scaramouche & Xiao (This is my first time requesting something, hopefully I did it right ☠️) - requested by @oddshroom

a/n — this took me so unbelievably long to write but I'm working on my emoji asks now! okay so apparently I have no self control when it comes to writing scara so this ended up being 3k instead of 500≤1k so I'm making this separate from the xiao's. also dw love, you did it absolutely right so it was clear and concise <3

pairing — [ scaramouche x gn!reader + 💋 kissing them while they're 😥 having a nightmare and 💙 playing with their hair in order to 😇 comfort them]

edited by: my homegirl @xiao6ao

masterlist / xiao post / emoji prompt list

Since when was the melody of screams this unpleasant? Or perhaps, maybe it was never a sweet tune to begin with.

The crackling of fire howled and filled his ears, yet he watched silently as the flames ate away at the wooden structure, devouring the joyous memories he created there. Ashes sprinkled the blazing air, scurrying around like fire flies and filling his lungs.

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

reblogs appreciated (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

691 notes · View notes

sarucane · 6 months

Text

Did Ed really want to die?

In a juicy spiral of nuanced psychological storytelling, I think the answer to this question is both yes and no, and so actually a it's a third answer:Ed wanted dying and living at the same time.

When Ed tells Lucius a song that goes "fingers bleeding, down to the bone now...hold on, hold on, hold on," Lucius recognizes it as a hell of a bad mental state. Lucius suggests Ed let go, and Ed says that'd be death.

Lucius then offers a third possibility: that dying won't be a death.

So Ed tries to throw himself into that. And when he actually sings, his song is the opposite of the one from before.

The stories we choose to tell reveal things about us. At the beginning of S1, Stede told a story about a wooden puppet becoming a real boy, pointing to his desire to "really live." At the end of the season, Ed's inner contradictory desires move from subtext to text through his amateur songwriting. He wants to hang on, he wants to let go and can't make himself, and "life's a hard sad death."

And then this all gets further mucked up when Izzy comes in and threatens "Edward," (who could get reborn) and says only "Blackbeard" gets to live. Ed releases his silk and throws Lucius over the side: the third options Stede and Lucius have made him drram of are out of reach.

Except then, when Ed embraces Blackbeard, he's embracing death: he paints himself up to look like a fucking ghoul.

Wanting to live and wanting to die are basically the same thing for Ed now. He's got no lighthouse to steer away from or toward (and a lighthouse is after all another double symbol, something to guide and something to avoid).

And finally we get Ed's story in S2E1, about a bird that "can't actually exist." Ed wants to live, and he wants to die, and he wants to be a bird that spends its life in the air, that exists outside of the struggles of life and death, that just keeps flying without any differentiation between where it came from and where it's going. But the bird is also a version of that third option, to live and die at the same time: It's alive and it's dead, its whole existence is in the sky and therefore it never really lives, never stops, never feels or hurts. It's everything and nothing at the same time, suspended.

And even when Ed makes a decision that should end the conflict between wanting both life and death--decides at the start of E2 that he's going to die today--he doesn't go at it directly. He tries to get Izzy to do it; he provokes the crew to mutiny, leaving repeated openings to be stopped while also plowing forward. Until, finally, the decision is taken out of his hands.

The result of all this is internal conflict manifests externally and drives the plot at the start of S2. The conflict is seeded from the beginning, as Ed reigns over violence while barely participating, moons over Stede and threatens Izzy.

And from the moment Izzy confronts Ed, knocks him out of his state of "flying," Ed does things that contradict each other. He asks the crew if "the vibe is poisonous" while pointing a gun at them. He points a gun at his own head and asks if the vibe is poisonous, then tells the truth, to general confusion. He says he doesn't feel crazy while doing something clearly crazy. He shoots Izzy, then tells Frenchie to kill him. If Ed wanted Izzy dead, he'd have chosen someone else. Frenchie isn't the type to slit a throat in cold blood, and Ed's not a moron. There was no way that was going to happen.

Or so he thinks, because then he's in the gravy basket. Hornigold represents his unconscious, his desire to both live and die: First, Hornigold saves him. Drags him off the beach and forces him to eat, to keep living. But then Hornigold drives him to despair, brings up the core crises of guilt, loss, fear, and insecurity (his dad's murder, Stede leaving) that pushed Ed down the path that led him here. And in the end, Hornigold speaks Ed's insecurities back to him. That he's unlovable, and that he's scared to do the only thing to do about it: kill himself. So he brought Hornigold to do it for him.

And then Ed's living and dying at the same time, again. He's struggling against the rope, and he is the rope hauling himself down.

Everyone needs help, sometimes.

Ed sees Stede as a merman, "Something that can't actually exist." But something Ed hadn't expected. Down here, in his darkness and unconscious, a light. And then the pros outweigh the cons by quite a lot, and he doesn't even notice when the desire for death fades away.

He isn't a bird that never touches ground: he's on the ground, he's under the water. But he is something that he thought maybe couldn't exist. A version of himself that can change.

Ed gets what he really wanted. He dies, and he lives.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #ed teach #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #gentlebeard

142 notes · View notes

cherrythepuppet · 9 months

Text

Puppets before Christmas [Part 3]

AU belongs to @cloudy-dreams [This is only going to have 5 chapters! Each is pretty long word wise ha ha]

"This has never happened before!" The clown Dog, Barnaby, said "It's suspicious!" A witch exclaimed "It's peculiar!" Another witch exclaimed "It's scary!" A vampire

"Stand aside!" Howdy yelled "Coming through! We've got find (Y/n)! There's only 365 days left till next Halloween!" Howdy announced "364!" someone in the crowd yelled

"Is there anywhere we've forgotten to check?" Howdy asked "I looked in every mausoleum!" Barnaby said"We opened the sarcophagi!" "I tromped through the pumpkin patch!"

"I peeked behind the Cyclops's eye! I did! But They weren't there!" "It's time to sound the alarms!" Howdy yelled...."Frog's breath will overpower any odor" Wally mumbled as he poured the frog's breath into the pot but it smelled horrible and he began coughing

"Bitter!" He yelled while coughing "Worm's wart! Where's that worm's wart?!" He said as he searched the cabinets until he found the worms wort

"Wally, that soup ready yet?" Poppy asked "Coming!" Wally yelled as he poured the worms wort into the pot before getting a wooden spoon and bowl

After a moment Wally walked upstairs to where Poppy was working "lunch" he said as he set the bowl in front of poppy "Ah, what's that? Worm's wart! mmm, and...frog's breath" Poppy muttered

"What's wrong? I-I thought you liked frog's breath!" Wally replied "Nothing's more suspicious than frog's breath! Until you taste it I won't swallow a spoonful!" Poppy told him while she held the spoon out towards him

"I'm not hungry!" Wally lied as he knocked spoon onto the ground "Oops!" He mumbled before bending down to grab it "You want me to starve!? An old Woman like me who hardly has strength as it is. Me, to whom you owe your very life!" Poppy groaned

Wally moved the wooden spoon to hide it under the table before he pulled out a trick spoon from his sock then he stood up "Oh don't be silly" Wally chuckled He ate the soup with trick spoon "Mmmm, see. Scrumptious!" He said, Poppy was still skeptical but she at Ate soup...

"Did anyone think to dredge the lake?" Howdy asked "this morning!" Barnaby yelled then everyone went quiet As they could hear the sounds of faint meowing Everyone then looked in the direction of the meowing "(Y/n)'s back!" someone exclaimed

"Where have you been?" Howdy asked"Call a town meeting and I'll tell everyone all about it!" (Y/n) told him "When?" Howdy asked "Immediately!" (Y/n) yelled"Town meeting, town meeting, town meeting tonight, town meeting tonight!" Howdy announced as he drove around in his truck...

"Listen everyone. I want to tell you about Christmastown!" (Y/n) told the town as Music began playing

"There are objects so peculiar They were not to be believed All around, things to tantalize my brain It's a world unlike anything I've ever seen And as hard as I try I can't seem to describe Like a most improbable dream But you must believe when I tell you this It's as real as my skull and it does exist Here, let me show you This is a thing called a present The whole thing starts with a box!" "A box? is it steel?" "Are there locks?" "Is it filled with a pox?"

"A pox How delightful, a pox!" "If you please Just a box with bright-colored paper And the whole thing's topped with a bow!" "bow? But why? How ugly What's in it? What's in it?" "That's the point of the thing, not to know!""It's a bat Will it bend?" "It's a rat! Will it break?" "Perhaps it s the head that I found in the lake!" "

Listen now, you don't understand That's not the point of Christmas land Now, pay attention We pick up an oversized sock And hang it like this on the wall!" "Oh, yes! Does it still have a foot?" "Let me see, let me look!" "Is it rotted and covered with gook?" "Um, let me explain There's no foot inside, but there's candy Or sometimes it's filled with small toys!"

"Small toys?" "Do they bite?" "Do they snap?" "Or explode in a sack?" "Or perhaps they just spring out And scare girls and boys!" "What a splendid idea This Christmas sounds fun I fully endorse it Let's try it at once!"

"Everyone, please now, not so fast There's something here that you don't quite grasp Well, I may as well give them what they want And the best, I must confess, I have saved for the last For the ruler of this Christmas land!"

"Is a fearsome Queen with a deep mighty voice Least that's what I've come to understand And I've also heard it told That She's something to behold Like a lobster, huge and red When She sets out to slay with her rain gear on Carting bulging sacks with her big great arms!"

"That is, so I've heard it said And on a dark, cold night Under full moonlight She flies into a fog Like a vulture in the sky And they call her! Sally Claws!" Everyone was cheering as (Y/n) walked off "Well, at least they're excited But they don't understand That special kind of feeling in Christmas land Oh, well..." They mumbled

"You've poisoned me for the last time you wretched Doll!" Poppy yelled before she locks Wally away and a loud dingdong"Oh my head...the door is open!" She said

"Hel-lo?" (Y/n) yelled "(Y/n) Skellington, up here my Friend!" Poppy exclaimed "Dr. I need to borrow some equipment!" (Y/n) told poppy "Is that so, whatever for?" Poppy asked

"I'm conducting a series of experiments" (Y/n) explained "How perfectly marvelous! Curiosity killed the cat, you know!" Poppy said with a small laugh But that made (Y/n) frown "I know" They grumbled

"Come on into the lab and we'll get you all fixed up!" Poppy added, Wally heard everything as he was leaning aginast the door "Hmm. Experiments?" He asked quietly"Otoo, I'm home!" (Y/n) yelled as they began to set up all their science equipment then began working

"Interesting reaction....but what does it mean?" (Y/n) groaned before they heard a knock? At the window?(Y/n) walked over to the window and saw a basket hitting it, they opened the window and looked down to see the blue haired Ragdoll

Wally smiled at (Y/n) making their skull turn a small shade of grey, (Y/n) waved at Wally before taking the basketThey looked down but Wally was gone...After Wally gives (Y/n) them the basket and sneaks off He picks a flower which turned into a Christmas tree then catches on fire

"Something's up with (Y/n) Something's up with (Y/n)! Don't know if we're ever going to get Them back! They're all alone up there Locked away inside Never says a word Hope They haven't died Something's up with (Y/n)! Something's up with (Y/n)!"

"Christmas time is buzzing in my skull Will it let me be? I cannot tell There's so many things I cannot grasp When I think I've got it, and then at last Through my bony fingers it does slip Like a snowflake in a fiery grip Something here I'm not quite getting Though I try, I keep forgetting Like a memory long since past Here in an instant, gone in a flash What does it mean? What does it mean?"

"In these little bric-a-brac A secret's waiting to be cracked These dolls and toys confuse me so Confound it all, I love it though Simple objects, nothing more But something's hidden through a door Though I do not have the key Something's there I cannot see What does it mean? What does it mean? What does it mean?"

"Hmm... I've read these Christmas books so many times I know the stories and I know the rhymes I know the Christmas carols all by heart My skull's so full, it's tearing me apart As often as I've read them, something's wrong So hard to put my bony finger on Or perhaps it's really not as deep As I've been led to think Am I trying much too hard? Of course!"

"I've been too close to see The answer's right in front of me Right in front of me It's simple really, very clear Like music drifting in the air Invisible, but everywhere Just because I cannot see it Doesn't mean I can't believe it You know, I think this Christmas thing It's not as tricky as it seems And why should they have all the fun?"

"It should belong to anyone Not anyone, in fact, but me Why, I could make a Christmas tree And there's no reason I can find I couldn't handle Christmas time I bet I could improve it too And that's exactly what I'll do Hee,hee,hee!" (Y/n) pushed open the windows "Eureka!! This year, Christmas will be ours!" they exclaimed as the town began to cheer but Wally looked worried...

"Patience, everyone! (Y/n) has a special Job for each of us! Dr. Poppy, your Xmas assignment is ready. Dr. Poppy to the front of the line!" Howdy announced "I knew it! Dr. thank you for coming! We need some of these!" (Y/n) said as they showed a picture of Santa and sleigh

"Hmm.. their construction should be exceedingly simple. I think" Poppy mumbled "How horrible our Xmas will be!" Howdy exclaimed"No--how jolly!" (Y/n) corrected making Howdy switch faces "Oh, how jolly our Xmas will be..." He said befire he gets pelted by rocks then sees the three trick or treaters

"What are you doing here?!" He asked"(Y/n) sent for us!" Julie grinned "Specifically!" Frank said "By name!" Eddie added "(Y/n)! (Y/n) it's Home's Henchpeople!" Howdy yelled

"Ah, Halloween's finest trick or treaters. The job I have for you is top secret. It requires craft, cunning, mischief!" (Y/n) told the three"And we thought you didn't like us, (Y/n)!" Eddie said with a laugh "Absolutely no one is to know about it. Not a soul. Now!" (Y/n) replied

(Y/n) whispered the plan to them before speaking louder nkw "And one more thing -- leave that no account Home out of this!" They demanded "Whatever you say, (Y/n)!" "Of course (Y/n)!" "Wouldn't dream of it (Y/n)!"all said with their fingers crossed before they ran out of the town and to a small little tree house

"Kidnap Mrs Sally Claws!" "I wanna do it!" "Let's draw straws!" "(Y/n) said we should work together!" "Three of a kind!" "Birds of a feather!" "Now and forever Wheeee La, la, la, la, la Kidnap the Sally Claws, lock her up real tight Throw away the key and then Turn off all the lights!"

"First, we're going to set some bait Inside a nasty trap and wait When She comes a-sniffing we will Snap the trap and close the gate!" "Wait! I've got a better plan To catch this big red lobster Star! Let's pop her in a boiling pot And when She's done we'll butter her up!"

"Kidnap the Sally Claws Throw her in a box Bury her for ninety years Then see if She talks!" "Then Mr. Home Can take the whole thing over then He'll be so pleased, I do declare That he will cook her rare!" "I say that we take a cannon Aim it at her door And then knock three times And when She answers Sally Claws will be no more!"

"You're so stupid, think now lf we blow her up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then (Y/n) will beat us black and green!" "Kidnap the Sally Claws! Tie her in a bag Throw her in the ocean Then, see if She is sad!" "Because Mr. Home is the meanest guy around If I were on his list, I'd get out of town!"

"He'll be so pleased by our success That he'll reward us too, I'll bet!" "Perhaps he'll make his special brew Of snake and spider stew Ummm! We're his little henchmen and We take our job with pride We do our best to please him And stay on his good side!"

"I wish my cohorts weren't so dumb!" "I'm not the dumb one!" "You're no fun!" "Shut up!" "Make me!""I've got something, listen now This one is real good, you'll see We'll send a present to her door Upon there'll be a note to read Now, in the box we'll wait and hide Until her curiosity entices her to look inside!" "And then we'll have her One, two, three!"

"Kidnap the Sally Claws, beat her with a stick Lock her up for ninety years, see what makes her tick Kidnap the Sally Claws, chop him into bits Mr. Home is sure to get his kicks! Kidnap the Sally Claws, see what we will see Lock her in a cage and then, throw away the key!"

"Sally Claws..hahaha!" Home exclaimed.....

#welcome home #welcome home au #wally darling #wally darling x reader #nightmare before christmas #Nightmare before Christmas au

151 notes · View notes

thewolvesof1998 · 4 months

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @jesuisici33 @smilingbuckley

HOLY SHIT I haven't posted anything since last year (yes I had to make the joke, sorry not sorry) but really it has been a while, I took an unplanned writing break, I was struggling so much with chapter four of They don’t know (your name is already mine) that I just had to step away for a moment but that turned into uh a month...Anyways I'm back here's some of my pirate AU and some from Chpt. 4 just for shits and giggles:

Pirate AU:

The salt spray coats his face, the wooden deck beneath his boot rolls with the waves and with the taste of salt on his lips he’s never felt more at home. He can feel the presence of his crewmates at his back, unhurriedly going about their tasks but he can’t turn to face them. His eyes are stuck staring at the horizon, watching as the yellow sun dips beyond the edge, painting the sky with oranges and pinks. As the stars show he can smell gunpowder and the metallic taste of blood lingers in the air. The shouts of fighting are muted as the sounds of crashing waves rise until it’s all he can hear. He knows what comes next, he tries to move but his feet are rooted in place as if the wood has grown vines and trapped him there. Agonising pain flares in his right thigh, then his left shoulder, as a blade is run through him from behind. He feels the blood run from his body, soaking his uniform and the deck below him. He just stands there as the life drains out of him, helpless to do anything but watch as the moon rises and makes its arch across the sky until he’s as cold as death, until whatever is holding him there releases and he drops to the deck like he’s puppet with cut strings. But instead of wood, there’s a straw mattress and instead of the constant sway of a ship he’s on solid ground. The pain’s still there but rather than the sharp burning pain of new wounds they ache and seize like they have for the past six months since they fullied healed and will probably ache for the rest of his life. Eddie takes in a gasping breath, tastes the bitter salt of sweat on his lips and rubs the sleep and lasting images of the sea from his eyes.

They don’t know (your name is already mine) Chapter Four:

“I’ve ruined Christmas,” He knows he’s pouting but he can’t help it, their first Christmas together as a married couple, as an official family and he’s ruined it. “Buck no-” Eddie tries to protest but Buck knows he has, not only are all his presents probably ruined but he’s going to have to spend Christmas in the Hospital without his boys because he will be damned if he ruins their Christmas even more than he already has. “-I’m tired, and in pain, please can you call the nurse,” He knows he’s shutting down and leaving Eddie out in the cold but he feels a tightness in his chest and tears burning in his eyes and all he wants to do is fall back into oblivion for a bit and he knows he’s running away from his feelings but he thinks it would be okay to do that until after Christmas. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Eddie kisses the back of Buck’s hand before getting up, when he’s at the door he looks back briefly, shooting a look of concern at him before stepping out of the room.

tagging: @wildlife4life @try-set-me-on-fire �� @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @sammysouffle @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @singlethread @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #thewolvesof1998 writes #buddie fic #fic: they don't know (your name is already mine)#pirates au

65 notes · View notes

the-lonelybarricade · 8 months

Text

Down the Water Well - Feysand Oneshot

Never go near the water well. For eleven years, Feyre obeyed her mother’s command. Except now, she was standing on the edge of that barren circle, staring at the stone well at the top of the hill. The wooden signs were worn and weathered and still illegible to her. She always wondered, did the signs warn about what waited at the top? She’d never been brave enough to ask. Come, a dark voice beaconed to her. Come, Feyre. See what’s inside. See what waits for you.

A contribution to @officialrhysandweek Day 1: Lord of Nightmares

Read on AO3

The first time Feyre saw the water well, she was eight years old.

It wasn’t the well that she’d noticed to begin with. It was the large wooden posts staked into the ground, each boasting signs that she could not decipher. There were many of them, an equal distance apart, charting the perimeter of a large dirt hill so that those who approached on any side would be certain to see whatever was written on the signs.

She didn’t care much about what they said at the time. What caught Feyre’s attention was that the grass stopped growing beyond the posts. On one side, a green, flush carpet. On the other, dried, shriveled grass. Her eyes followed the dead zone up to the top of the hill, where a large circle of stone erected from the earth.

Feyre didn’t know what it was, but the moment she rested her eyes on those stones, she felt the air drop in temperature. It was midday, not a cloud in the sky, yet smoky darkness clung to the air around the hill. She knew, without quite knowing how, that the well was responsible for the decay around it. Like it leeched life from the surrounding earth. Fed on it.

It was eerie. Strange. Though Feyre had never been a skittish child, the sight chilled her. And yet. Yet she stepped toward it. Curious, drawn like a puppet being pulled by the strings. She wanted to know what lay on top of the hill, why it was there.

Yes, it seemed to call. Come to me. Come see.

“Feyre!”

She paused, her toe just past the perimeter of dead earth. Glancing over her shoulder, Feyre spied her mother striding toward her on furious footsteps. Feyre thought that was strange, too. Her mother rarely paid any attention to what she was up to. They were on the outskirts of the village because a seamstress lived here, in the cottage that her mother had swiftly exited. Feyre had snuck out as soon as her measurements were taken, and she’d assumed her mother would be too preoccupied with choosing designs for Nesta and Elain’s dresses to notice that her youngest daughter had snuck away.

Ordinarily, Feyre might have been delighted at the attention, if her mother’s face wasn’t twisted in rage. When she caught up to Feyre, she wasted no time with scolding. Instead, she grabbed Feyre’s arm so fiercely that her entire body jostled, and in Feyre’s shock, she bit down on her lower lip. Copper burst into her mouth a moment before tears swelled behind her eyes, and her sobbing began.

It was impossible to forget through her wailing and the unsightly blood dribbling down her chin, splattering to the dirt, the way her mother scooped her up and hissed, unsympathetic, “Never go near the water well ever again, Feyre.”

Never go near the water well.

For eleven years, Feyre obeyed her mother’s command.

Except now, she was standing on the edge of that barren circle, staring at the stone well at the top of the hill. The wooden signs were worn and weathered and still illegible to her. She always wondered, did the signs warn about what waited at the top of the hill? She’d never been brave enough to ask.

Come, a dark voice beaconed to her. Come, Feyre. See what’s inside. See what waits for you.

Darkness. Death. Something worse, perhaps.

Come, it repeated, more insistent. Less patient.

“No,” she said. What was she doing here?

Wind twisted her unbound hair, pulling at her nightdress like it was trying to tug her past the perimeter, away from where it was safe.

You’re hungry, it purred. Come to me, and I’ll see that you’re fed.

“No,” she repeated.

You would let your family starve?

“I know how to hunt,” she protested, tearing her eyes away from the well, towards the forest she ventured into every morning. “I don’t need you.”

Oh, but aren’t you tired, my little huntress? Tired of fighting and scraping to survive? You’ve been working so hard for so long. Let me take care of you so you can rest.

Rest. That sounded so nice. There was scarcely enough food to supplement the energy she expended on every hunt. And though she often came home worn to her bones, body so, so heavy, it was always difficult to sleep. Knowing what waited for her.

Lies. Lies, lies, lies, she chanted to herself. It wanted something from her and knew what to say to draw her in. She never liked to examine too closely how the creature knew so much about her.

She whispered, “What are you?”

Your loyal servant.

Feyre snorted.

It’s true, the midnight voice crooned. Free me, Feyre, and I am yours. Your every desire is mine to fulfill.

“Like… a wishing well?” she asked, feeling so childish to even entertain the idea. But she remembered the stories, as a child, of the water wells that would grant any wish for a coin dropped inside them. The cold stone at the top of the hill didn’t evoke the same whimsy, but she could certainly feel the power emanating from it. Pulsing, like a heartbeat. In time with her own.

There was humor in that voice as it answered, in a sense.

“What has you trapped?” That was a less intimidating question than what she truly wanted to ask—Why are you trapped?

Humans are fearful creatures. They push away things they cannot understand. But you are not like them, Feyre. You could free me. My huntress, my salvation. I’ll grant you any wish for that debt.

Don’t ask how, don’t ask how, don’t ask—” How?”

The darkness rumbled as if pleased by her question. Come to me. I will show you.

It wasn’t a far distance up the hill. Ten strides at most. How deep was the well, she wondered? If she fell in, would she ever come out? For years, she had nightmares about tumbling inside, falling down, down, down into an abyss of darkness.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and stumbling back from the perimeter. “No, no, no, no—”

The ground beneath her began to shake, and dirt and stone started to ripple. Feyre screamed so loud that she could again taste the copper in her mouth from years ago, when she’d bitten her lip and bled onto the earth, and her body began shaking, shaking—

“Feyre!”

She blinked, opening her eyes to find Nesta’s snarling face leaning over her in their shared bed. Elain was hovering, too, her pretty face pinched with concern as Feyre shook off their touch and pressed a hand to her head. It felt as if something had coiled around her mind and squeezed, leaving a blistering migraine in its wake. A usual remnant of her nightmares.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You were screaming—”

“I’m fine.”

The words were as cool and icy as the stone atop the hill. Nesta and Elain didn’t say anything, only shared a glance with each other. Feyre couldn’t stand the words they were exchanging, passing their judgment without saying anything at all. With a huff, she pushed out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Nesta asked as Feyre began shoving on her hunting clothes.

“Where do you think?”

Feyre hadn’t caught anything in the woods yesterday. Somehow, the creature in the well had known that, known that she was more desperate than usual. Maybe her mind was weak from the hunger.

“I’ll be back by sundown,” she said, grabbing her bow and slinging her quiver of arrows over her shoulder. She didn’t wait to hear if Nesta or Elain responded before she darted out of the rickety door of their decrepit cottage.

Feyre glanced down the path to the woods, the same trek she made every morning, now laid with a fresh layer of snow that had settled in the night. If she was wise, she would venture down the familiar path and check if her snares had managed to catch anything. But there was another path. One she never allowed herself to glance towards.

But some residual talon of the nightmare must have still been hooked in her mind, because she found her neck turning. And then she was staring down that path, the one which led to the outskirts of the village, where the water well would be waiting for her atop a lifeless hill.

Come to me, Feyre, she heard it call. The voice of her nightmares. So disarmingly sweet, gentle. Lulling. That’s it, the voice purred as she took a step, then another. Such a good girl for me.

She continued walking until she passed the seamstress’s cottage, her footsteps swallowed by the silent, killing snow. It was winter. The animals in the forest had treaded past where she was willing to follow. She was desperate. Desperate enough to look, though she promised herself she would not do anything more.

Her mother had made her promise to never come back here. But her mother was dead, and their family was starving, and that voice was calling to her. Chanting, Feyre, Feyre, Feyre. How bad would it be if she looked? What could possibly be waiting for her that was worse than the winter woods?

Feyre paused outside of the circle, squinting at the signs like she might finally be able to make sense of them. B… Be… war…

Come closer, Feyre darling.

There was no use trying to read them. If her mother was truly determined not to forbid her from walking past the signs, she would have taught her how to decipher them.

Feyre took a deep breath that condensed in the winter air, blending with the clouds hanging low around the hill. Drawing her bow, she notched an arrow and drew the string taut. Then, she took her first step past the circle. Even the wind died.

Despite the snowfall in the night, not a single flake had fallen to the dirt at her feet. It was dry, utterly devoid of life, apart from the energy humming through the earth, crackling in the air. Feyre was reminded of standing outside in a thunderstorm, the way every single hair on her body stood at attention.

Feyre, the voice sang, louder now.

The hill was steep enough that she felt breathless by the time she ascended its peak, and her heart was thundering, though she suspected that had less to do with exertion. The well looked ordinary enough—a large circle layered in stones and flattened at the top. It was boarded up beneath slates of iron held down by four large rocks. Maybe she could kill whatever was down there, and the nightmares would finally stop.

Each of the stones was heavy. She pushed them, unable to lift, and gasped as they tumbled to the ground with large thuds, kicking up small clouds of dirt. Whatever lived in the well, it would certainly know she was here, though the voice had gone mysteriously silent. Like it was holding its breath. Waiting.

When she’d managed to push the last of the stones to the floor, Feyre pushed the iron slates just enough to create a small opening. She winced at the scrape of rusted metal and more so at the pitch-black darkness she uncovered. Heart leaping in her throat, Feyre pushed the metal a little bit further, hoping to let more light in.

She gasped as a pair of violet eyes met hers, and a white-toothed smile flashed through the thick shadows.

“There you are, Feyre darling,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

#rhysandweek2023 #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre

95 notes · View notes