#instead its just a miserable hot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatarkv · 8 months

Text

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (4)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of violence and death. (wc: 4955 )

Neytiri was up early– too early.

She ran her hands tiredly over her face, her fingernails barely grazing the creases of her skin. Her eyes felt heavy, but it wasn’t tiredness that forced itself to weigh on her lids– it was the dread that continued to settle in; she could hardly make out the sound of the pot blowing out steam, rising in pitch with the soup threatening to boil over. The lid covering the kitchen pan was shaking fiercely, trying desperately to contain itself.

No, who was she kidding? She had lain awake all night, tossing and turning in her hammock. Not a single wink of sleep had been granted to her.

Neytiri swore her heart cried every time she took a deep breath, gravelly gasping along her. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to– not when tuk-tuk quivered in her embrace the whole night; the slightest movement made her flinch and the softest touch made her cry. It was gut-wrenching, the thought that her own child felt no safety in the arms of their mother.

Not my children, eywa. Not them too.

War had started long before her mate had come, Neytiri couldn’t blame him– but sometimes, late at night when the only sounds that grace her ears are the thoughts running through her head, she dreams of a life away from the wildfire and bullets; a life where she had fulfilled her mother's desires and took Tsu'tey’s hand instead. Every once in a while, the idea pierces her heart as she finds herself tucked in between Jake’s embrace. It felt wrong to think so, like being unfaithful, but not quite.

Tsu’tey was never someone who crossed her thoughts as a person that had gotten away from her, nor had she ever been attracted to him in a romantic way. It would’ve been an union of convenience; for the clan and the people itself. They would be unhappy– unhappy and awfully miserable. With Jake, it was something else entirely; like marriage had more meaning to it rather than a simple alliance. Sure, it was miserable, but they were happy– she was happy. Neytiri could never resent her mate, not when they’ve come so far already.

However, in terms of her children’s well-being, she couldn’t help but think if Jake was the bane of it all– the root of every bad thing that has happened to them. There were no softer words to lay it out, but they deserved better. Her children deserved none of this war.

She was crying again– crying for them. She let the beads of tears roll down her cheek as she stared afar with not a single coherent thought behind her eyes.

It was no surprise that Neteyam was already up with the sun rising. He moved quickly, quietly lowering the fire and lifting the lid of the pot with caution— hissing when its hot liquid splashed onto his skin. With a concerned look on his face, he glanced over at his mother who sat an arm’s length away from the very stove; how could she not have heard the loud cackle of her own cooking? He was sure it would’ve caused a wildfire if not for him.

He slowly moved closer to Neytiri, gingerly reaching out and nudging her with his fingertips. He was mindful not to startle her already tired state. “Sa’nok– sa’nok?” Neteyam called out to her, “Sa’nok, are you okay?”

Neytiri stirred just slightly, turning her head to view the worried face of her eldest. Her lips thinned involuntarily, a feeling of relief washing over her; her children were here, safe and sound. Nothing will happen to them– not ever. As long as she lived, they will never be harmed ever again. No demon would take this away from her.

A wave of panic swept over her as she finally realized that she had been cooking before. She quickly turned back to see a billowing cloud of smoke rising from its surface. Neytiri cursed under her breath as her small attempts at fanning away the fog that had settled upon the area were to no avail, finding herself in a fit of coughing. “Why don’t you get y/n?” She requested, voice strained. “She can help with breakfast.”

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam could only nod, quickly leaving.

Right, y/n– you. When was it never about you?

Neteyam grumbled as he dragged his feet towards their thatched hut, kicking at every pebble that came across his path with a grunt. It wasn’t you who had woken up early to assist Neytiri nor was the one who had stopped fire from possibly spreading and yet, your name just had to be the first he’d heard today.

It was you. Always you.

Neteyam would be a big fat liar if he said it didn’t affect him. He saw you as a parasite – a damn leech that was draining the life out of everyone around him. He couldn't understand why you had to be so selfish and callous; why you were unable to look past Jake’s reprimands when all he desired was your well-being or how you had driven his own mother to such anguish that it became her own undoing.

You weren’t a kid anymore. On top of that, you weren’t theirs– so why had you always been on top of their priority? Why had you become a chore?

But never his, oddly enough. You were too good for him and he hated that.

(Heavy steps thudded behind Jake as Neteyam trailed, his disappointment palpable. He had been unsuccessful in his mission to persuade his father to let him come along on today’s expedition, always quick to dismiss him. He had gone through all the training, but what was the point if he still wouldn't be able to put it into practice?

Being olo’eyktan one day will never feel rewarding.

“It’s too dangerous, Neteyam.” Jake grumbled under his breath, eyes never meeting his as he gathered his arrows. “I need you here. Make sure Lo’ak doesn’t follow– do you copy?”

Neteyam couldn't help but wince when he remembered the time they had failed to be spotters, but it was just that one time– why couldn’t he let it go? It weighed down heavily on his conscience; the mistake that even still, months later, sent shame prickling on every fiber of his being.

Jake expected a copy in return– a curt yes-sir but Neteyam was silent. He finally urged himself to look up, only to see both his eldest locked in an intense stare, eyes never wavering nor breaking away from one another.

It clicked almost instantly the moment you walked through the flap of the hunt, clutching on the strap of your woven bag that held your own weapons. The war-paint drawn across your face had been the salt on the already deep cut of his– you were coming. Jake had asked you to come and he wasn’t.

You were looking down at him, Neteyam was sure of it; judging him, and no doubt thinking of how much he had failed himself. His sense of shame deepened as he saw the derision in your expression, feeling more exposed than ever before. He wanted to disappear right then and there, anything to escape this moment that felt like an eternity.

But you were there. You always were– and you could see straight through him.

If only he knew how different your mind worked– how you desperately ached for the same concern Jake had for his son. You wanted him to understand the immense longing to be seen in the same light that he was in, to receive even a fraction of his unwavering affection; wanted Jake to care enough that this could be the last hunt he would have with you, that you could get hurt or worse.

Jake was worried enough to sit his golden-child down; the one with capabilities greater than those warriors years older than him– the one he would make olo’eyktan someday.

Not you. Never you.

Neteyam was the first to turn away, a deep rugged grunt leaving his lips as he nodded once.

“Lima charlie.” )

What really messed with his head was that, despite his obvious resentment, he couldn’t actually bring himself to truly despise you the way he felt he should. Every time Neteyam looks at you, he swears he only sees himself– the same child that only yearns for the recognition of a father. There is a reflection of each other in the two of you that binds you nonetheless.

He wanted to truly look up to you; he wanted what Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk felt when they were with you– to have someone older, to feel as if the weight on his shoulders wasn’t his alone. Neteyam tried, he really did, but as much as you were there, you also weren’t.

It wasn’t always like this. Your relationship with him wasn’t built entirely on rivalry– he knows he had something more familial with you before, but whatever it was had blurred along age. As much as he wanted to come closer, you were always two steps ahead of him. To you, he will always be olo’eyktan– but never a brother.

It was a harsh reality– the same hands that cradled him when he was small couldn’t even look at him the same; like he had grown so ugly that you couldn’t recognize him at all. You didn’t even want to fly your ikran with him, nor did you want to train the same time he did.

He hated you, but not quite– he could never hate his sister. You were more of a stranger now that lived under the same roof as him and it was better than to perceive you as someone rather horrible– but that was what you were. A horrible, horrible stranger. Someone who saved him once from trouble and handed him years of headache in return.

You were a horrible sister. That’s what you are.

(“Tsmuke, what do I do?”

You couldn't believe your eyes as you gazed down at the mess on the floor of the hut. Beads were all over, and what used to be a clay tray laid shattered into several pieces. Neteyam stood still in midst of it all— the culprit of such doing evident. Your brain wracked itself to move, to do something.

“This is sa’nok’s favorite necklace. She told me to come get it for her, but the shelf was too high–” Neteyam spoke in a rush, hands gesturing wildly as he talked. His face crumpled in worry and his brow furrowed with frustration.

"’Teyam, don't move!" you said in a hurry, alarmed at the thought of him taking a step forward. Moving quickly to his side, you gently stopped him from doing so and scooped him up under his armpits. He was heavy in your arms as you stood there with him, but the shards beneath were sharp enough to cut skin. You grunted as you moved him aside.

"Tsmuke, what are we going to do?" He asked again, his voice running high with worry.

You tried to think of another solution, assessing the situation once more. You glanced at him and said, "I'm going to tell ma I broke it so she won't be mad at you." You quickly search for something sturdy enough to scoop the pieces off the floor. Maybe you can redo the necklace, but there was no salvaging the tray.

“But I broke it– she’ll know.” He visibly deflates, not exactly thrilled about not being truthful to Neytiri.

“Only if you tell her.” You said, looking up at him with a slight smile, though your heart was racing. You felt terrible knowing that you were going to disappoint Neytiri, especially since her beloved necklace had snapped– but something about your little brother's worry-stricken expression tugged on your heartstrings. You understood why her scolding was necessary, but it felt wrong to leave him alone to bear the brunt of it. “This will be our little lie, okay?”

“Lie?”

You immediately dismiss him, gesturing impatiently for him to exit the hut as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you about it later, but you have to promise now that whatever mom says, just know that I broke it.”

He only offered a subtle nod in response, his eyes glossed over as he nervously played with his hands.

“Say it, ‘teyam. She’ll be back any minute now!”

"You broke it!" Neteyam had shouted and almost as if in response, Neytiri had walked in through the hut's entrance, all but gasping as she took in the sight before her– shards of what once held her jewelry now on the floor. She stumbled slightly as she carried the basket of fruits, before dropping it to the ground and quickly scurrying over towards you.

The scolding you got was harsh, but Neytiri couldn't do much other than wrap her arms around you and sigh. You were just a kid, after all. Mistakes like these are inevitable and all she could do was understand.

Neteyam was patiently waiting just outside the doorway, swinging his legs back and forth as he listened with a heavy heart. He awfully felt guilty. You sat with him moments later.

“Why did you do that?” He quietly asked.

You looked at him with a confused face, “Do what?”

"Lie." He says, his accent making the word feel awkward in his mouth. It was unfamiliar to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You only say, casually shrugging as you swung your legs along his. Little Neteyam looked at you with the most confused face; eyebrows furrowing and the creases in between deepening as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

But then you glanced at him again– winked and gave a small giggle.

And only there did he understand. He leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Thank you, y/n.” )

Neteyam didn’t even realize he had finally reached home. He stared at the flap of the hut, unable to let himself in, despite living here ever since. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having a moment alone with you– not when the thoughts that ran through his head had been unpretty.

He knows damn well Eywa could strike him down if she heard herself.

He sighed, “Y/n? Sa’nok asks for you.” He softly said, waiting for a reply. You had never been a deep sleeper; any little noise would bring you right back to consciousness. Every creak from the floor, every whisper and murmur from outside, even the lightest rustling of leaves would startle you wide awake in an instant. Neteyam knew of that, knew of the many sleepless nights you had. You had the habit of scratching the walls of the hut, carving who-knows-what on its surface. It kept him from being able to get any rest himself.

When only silence greeted him, he finally urged himself to go inside only to be met with an empty space.

Your absence now felt different to the other times when you had gone for a stroll through the forest or set out to train before dawn. It was not like that this time, and Neteyam felt it deeply. He frantically rummaged through the hut, searching every nook and cranny for anything that you possessed. Nothing. Neteyam stood at the center of the room, taking in the now cluttered room.

His fingers nervously reached up to the intercom on his ears. A voice crackled over the device, "Sir, is y/n with you? Over." He took a deep breath as he glanced around once more.

Almost quickly, Jake answered. “No, she should be back at the hut.”

Neteyam gulped, “She isn’t– nor any of her things are. What do I do?”

“You– you! You let this happen, Jake!”

After spending hours on scouring the forest for any trace of you, they had finally concluded that you had chosen to leave of your own accord. This was not something that anyone wanted to believe and yet it seemed like the only option left; none of your things were to be seen back at home, or at least those that were valuable to you— your worn-out saddlebag, the wooden bowl that you had carved yourself, weapons. All of it. Soon, eclipse neared and everyone was tired.

Neytiri was quick on her feet. As soon as Jake had returned from the south, she lunged at him – pushing him forcefully with a look he didn’t want to come home to. He attempted to grasp onto both her forearms, wanting desperately to soothe– but, try as he might, she continually knocked away his hands with increasingly greater force. It was like his very touch had burnt her skin; the same hands that held her children.

“What did you do? What did you say?” Her panicked voice quivered as she asked in desperation. She felt her breath quicken, body absolutely worn out from everything that had happened. Neytiri’s tear-stained face was like a punch to his already battered heart. He had caused this. Jake had finally pushed you away.

“One thing I asked of you– and this one thing you couldn’t do!” Each word that left her mouth was accompanied by a strike to his chest, not enough to cause any physical pain but enough to emphasize the anger he knew he had been keeping to herself for years. Neytiri was patient with him– understanding. Jake had pushed the limits of what she was capable of doing for him and this was the very consequence.

Shame. Nothing but shame.

People were watching– warriors that had accompanied him on the search and lingering eyes of the clan, but he couldn’t care less. Jake allowed her to hit him, he let her push him around; it was better for him if she inflicted the pain instead of harboring it. He’d let the people talk for all he cared. He failed as an olo’eyktan and as a father.

Let everyone know he failed his eldest.

“I did talk to her, please listen to me.” He begged, his pleadings faint. He desperately tried to reach out and grasp Neytiri's arm, yet his hands seemed unable to find the strength to hold her. His voice quivered as he spoke, fragile and hesitant in its delivery.

“Tell me how exactly!”

And he couldn’t answer that. Not when he made the crucial mistake of not checking the hut beforehand. Maybe if he did, he would’ve known you had run away– maybe he could’ve gotten to you. The fact that you weren’t able to hear his vulnerability was a different heartbreak he refused to acknowledge. You were never there to begin with.

When Neytiri saw that Jake had nothing to say in response, she was rendered speechless. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she tried to muffle the cry that threatened to escape her throat. She frantically paced around, harshly tugging on her braids. Jake could only close his eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat. He stood there, stunned in silence.

“My daughter, Jake! My daughter is out there with those– those demons scattered! She could be lost– dead! Do you not understand?”

Dead. You could be dead. Jake refused to close his eyes, hoping he could keep the thought at bay. But it came back again and again, wriggling its way into his mind like a snake. He let his heavy eyelids shut and instantly, he was presented with a vision of you in the dark - his sweet babygirl, lying there lifeless. It would be his fault. The blood would be on his hands.

"Ma, please," Neteyam had spoken, his voice gentle in a bid to soothe his mother. He tried desperately to soften the blows, carefully pulling her away from Jake. It was Neteyam that calmed Neytiri and all he could do was stand and let it happen– what the hell was he doing? How could he fail so miserably? His eldest had to step in and do his job, his pride and joy.

His gaze drifted across to where his other children were, huddled together on the corner. They looked bewildered at what they were hearing, unsure of what to make of it all. It seized him, squeezing what’s left of its already limp heart. Tuk was nestled in Kiri’s protective embrace, asking her– trying to understand. She asks of you, where have you gone?

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning and Jake Sully has done the opposite– ushering you to danger.

“Have we failed them, Jake? Have I been a horrible mother?” Neytiri asked, her voice now barely above a whisper. She tried to be gentle with pushing Neteyam away, attempting to continue nonetheless. Jake placed a firm hand on his son's tense shoulders, and he gave him a subtle tilt of the head. He could see the battle that was raging inside of his young boy's head, between wanting to do what he felt was right and obeying his father's instructions. “Jake what have we done?”

Your mother needs this, his eyes try to tell him, go. Neteyam reluctantly steps back, deciding it was better to return to the others.

“Look for her again. Send out everyone this instant!” She sobs, pounding her fists against Jake’s chest in a desperate attempt to get her point across. Her neck is strained with veins popping out and bulging eyes filled with desperation, pleading him to understand. Each beat of her fists matched the intensity of her wails, no amount of tears ever seeming to be enough.

Neytiri takes a heavy inhale once more, “I beg of you, Jake Sully. Find our daughter, bring her back home.”

His gaze finally met hers and the feeling it brought was more than he could bear. He had to make a decision, another choice that would have to let her down again. “We can’t go looking for her now, Neytiri. We are already short on warriors, you know this.” He gently says, as if it was enough to soften the blow– but his eyes saw how her face slowly fell. He could clearly hear the telltale sound of her broken heart, shattering once more.

“I have to ensure everyone’s safety. Warriors are out scouring perimeters and we can’t risk one hold-up. Our family, Neytiri, I cannot risk our family,”

“She is our daughter!”

“And I am still olo’eyktan.” He was heartless. He was sure everyone thought so, but he had to be the one to make decisions. His composure was a mask that hid the fact that inside he was breaking apart; that he was failing– that he already had failed. If he let himself break down now, he might as well gamble everyone he loved.

Jake’s responsibilities weighed down heavily on his shoulders. Everyone was at stake– Quaritch was on the loose.

Neytiri told him he had a strong heart the moment they had met, but right now, it was stone-cold– shut off and mean. Not the compassionate man she had once saved. “I’m trying, Neytiri. I’ll get her home.” He tries to assure her, but the breathy shudder that left her lips only made him wince.

He was finally able to wrap his arms around her mate and when he did, it was tight– as if he was trying desperately to piece her back together. He closed his eyes once more, kissing the top of her head. “I promise. She’ll be back, I promise.”

You were out there. Alive. He had a chance.

Your mama’s crying for you, sweet child, come home.

“Mawey, Mawey!”

You found yourself in an unknown area. How you had gotten there, you could not explain. Your ikran, exhausted from the raging storm, needed some respite and so did you for that matter. After all, it would be cruel to deny her this much needed break even if it were just for a night. You only prayed that it’d be peaceful.

You searched the space for materials needed for fire, but the rain was ruthless and provided no light. You felt a chill as you curled up beneath the shade of the tree. Hugging your knees to your chest you tried to conserve warmth, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew past. Nothing around you but darkness - no stars, no moonlight, and not even the bioluminescence around provided much warmth. This was it, you thought.

Should I go home instead? Have they even noticed that I’ve gone?

Why couldn't you just stay? Why couldn't you have simply kept it all down inside rather than running away? You had been content enough to stay silent before, content enough to ignore everything; what had been different now? It was home still— who were you kidding?

Thoughts ran unmercifully inside your head as you sat motionless.

You are never satisfied.

I miss my mom.

They deserve the heartache.

You should’ve listened instead– now look at where you are.

Why couldn’t they love me?

Maybe I should head back.

Father will be mad.

You wanted this– needed this. You had to prove yourself. There was no use crying over something small, a night had only passed.

The snapping of leaves and rustling of bushes pulled you abruptly back to reality, your head quickly turning in its direction. You had been lost in thought before the sound startled you; the somber pool of thoughts still eddying in your mind. But there was something else nestled in that pool now, taking up the space– fear. Genuine and terrible, terrible fear. You might never come home ever again. You will never see them again.

This was it, you thought, something that had been swirling around in the back of your mind since you’ve left now finally felt certain. You gripped your spear tightly in both hands.

The cry that ripped through the air was deafening, shaking every part of your being. It felt like each syllable ricocheted around your entire body; coursing through your veins and settling in the cavity of your chest. Even the ground seemed to tremble in response, shaking beneath your feet as you tried to keep composure. There was no mistaking it; it was an 'angtsìk— a particularly angry one, at that.

The loreyu that once surrounded you shriveled in response; coiling up and retracting to the ground, and then was gone completely, leaving you exposed to the hammerhead.

You were in a desperate situation. It didn't help either that you were unable to make out your surroundings– you were one on one with an 'angtsìk with nothing but a spear and a lousy handgun (that you don’t even know why you brought in the first place. It was small on the palm of your hand, but it was valuable to Jake– this couldn’t damage any animal even if you tried.)

Lifting your bow and arrow and preparing to shoot would be pointless. The threat could be just a moment away; it could pounce on you in the blink of an eye, leaving you as food for its prey before you even have time to process the danger.

You stood your ground, constantly shifting on your feet as you carefully backed away. You kept your gaze steadily ahead, refusing to break eye contact with the 'angtsìk– but when it roared again in response to your steps, you couldn't help but express your annoyance with a loud kiss of your teeth and an exasperated groan.

You did something that no one in a million years would ever consider or do– you ran straight towards it.

You stepped forward with your spear raised, shaking it threateningly in front of the strange creature that had been creeping closer. Your movements were frenzied, a frenetic attempt to scare it off and make it retreat back to where it had come from. You could feel your heart pounding against your rib cage as you readied yourself for whatever would come next. All around you, an eerie silence had descended upon the dank forest that seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation– watching both of you.

As it was poised to launch a counterattack, the creature suddenly halted; its gaze directed toward something past you with an expression of sheer terror, but your mind was too clouded for you to take any hint of the bigger threat skulking just behind you. You could feel the nervousness bubbling up from your chest, but before you knew it, a confident chuckle had escaped your lips that soon turned into fits of laughter, not believing how that foolish move of yours had made the 'angtsìk retreat.

“Yeah? Yeah! That’s right– you better run!” You yelled, brandishing the spear in your hands and waving it around in triumph. “Get your punk-ass back to mommy, penis-face!”

As the 'angtsìk disappeared into the distance, you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. "You're not getting any of this, keep running!" You called out after it mockingly, putting your hands on your hips. In spite of this bravado, your heart was pounding and your knees were weak with fear– you were this close to give Eywa an early visit.

You slowly turned back, that’s when you finally saw it; the force with which the thicket of bushes violently parted around it, the palulukan emerging from behind. It was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and a chill ran through your body as a wave of fear engulfed you. Every part of you tensed up, and you could feel your soul being wrenched from within.

You looked at it like a poor deer in headlights, grip momentarily loosening around your spear.

If death knocked tonight, let it be instant.

NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ?? ???? finally, after a month! (i am gonna be honest, i am this close to loosing interest in avatar.. jesus. i am holding onto crumbs people) this is so long overdue, but i hope it's good enough!

put so many references here, hope ppl can tell! teehee

not thoroughly edited so please feel free to point of any mistakes! thank you so much for being patient with me, until the next chapter loves! smooch <;3

(i removed tags that didn't work anymore :/ again, i am not taking anymore tags! please leave your notif on instead) tags: @reyalvr @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @lunyyx @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @pinkeroppi @mellowdiy @jimfiqs @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ayra2452008 @vodoo-heart @rose-brulante @starxao @bluevenus19 @entertain-my-lvst @wwwellacom @starjane312 @mona-aiko @audigay

2K notes · View notes

allyricas · 8 months

Text

i wanna read about steve falling for eddie in the fall

steve can't help but stare as eddie starts wearing softer, cozier clothes. still mostly black, but more and more colors slip into eddie's wardrobe as it gets cooler and cooler outside.

maybe it starts with a olive green henley. eddie is wearing boots instead of his white sneakers. blue jeans with no holes. sure, he's still got the leather jacket and the rings but this is new. then its a soft orange sweater with a plaid scarf. makes his eyes pop and his skin glow. steve cannot look away.

eddie also starts to wear his hair up in a messy bun with soft tendrils falling around his face. eddie is just so soft and lovely even with his rough edges.

steve would be in crisis because eddie's become his best guy friend since the whole vecna situation. the feelings bubbling up in him aren't platonic. they're confusing but strong and relentless. steve wants to touch eddie and hold his hand as they walk down main street. keep him warm whenever he complains about being cold. wants to take a strand of his soft hair and put it behind his ear. pull him by his scarf and kiss-

yeah, steve wants to kiss his friend who is a guy. god does he want.

imagine everyone doing fall activities and steve is just miserably pining.

the harvest festival that's usually fun is just torture. eddie laughing next to steve on a hayride. eddie's face light up by twinkling lights while they sip hot cider. eddie laughing while he runs through a maze with the younger teens. the chill of the air makes his cheeks rosy and god, steve wants to press into eddie. nuzzle against him.

maybe by christmas steve realizes that eddie watches steve just as much. that for once, his love is reciprocated fully.

#steddie #i really hope there is a lot of fall/holiday fics this year #straight dopamine to my brain lol

1K notes · View notes

bhaalble · 5 months

Text

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

#long post #again i want to be clear because i think wyll fans are a little understandably defensive of him #this is not about wanting wyll to be a bad person #its about wanting him to have an arc that parallels the rest of the companions #and be more firmly centered on HIS feelings and choices #ive done my best to preserve wylls canon temperament here #just give the circumstances more teeeth #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #mizora #ulder ravengard

1K notes · View notes

toasty-melons · 1 year

Note

Abby or ellie with gf reader who gets hella irritated/mad easily when it’s hot out? its hella hot where i live rn n everyone is so annoyed with my attitude but idec this heat is some bs

i FEEL this. i AM this. i’ve been on an Abby kick lately lately so here we go..

i love love love flirty Abby.

Summer Heat

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

(side note: this picture makes my brain go fuzzy 😵‍💫)

Even with shorts and your girlfriend’s oversized t shirt on, it still feels like a million degrees. It’s so hot that it’s almost sticky. Groaning you walk into your shared kitchen to find your sweet, lovely girlfriend pouring some lemonade into two glasses. All her muscles on full display in a fitted, sleeveless shirt and some short athletic shorts. She smiles at you and holds out a filled glass, you take it and swallow the sweet liquid quickly. She eyes you up and down while taking a much slower sip from her cup.

“That my shirt?” You look down and tug on the fabric that hangs loosely from your body and shrug. Furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips making their way onto your pretty face.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” The sass laced in your tone clearly throws Abby off guard. She recovers with a grin that has you sweating more than you already are.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.” You roll your eyes at her mocking words. You can’t help it, it’s hot and your girlfriend is asking stupid questions. Shrugging you hop up onto the kitchen counter, the tile cool under your thighs. She walks over to you slowly, mocking your pout and you try to hold back a smile, failing miserably.

She places her large hands over your knees and pulls them apart, standing in between your legs and replacing her hands on either side of you, leaning in close. Your heart speeds up and your stomach erupts with butterflies.

“What’s got you so worked up, pretty girl?” Her voice is low, teasing, and whispered against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Nothing. It’s just hot, Abs..” You’re quiet but irritation still heavily laced in your words. A pout sitting on your pretty lips again. She tilts her head at you and slightly squints her eyes.

“You’re giving me an attitude because it’s hot?” You think she’s mad at first until you meet her gaze and see her face you know she’s the furthest thing from mad. “I don’t think that’s very fair, baby. What happened to my sweet girl, huh?” Her soft teasing has your face flushing and you’re squirming under her gaze.

“ ‘m sorry Abs.. just hot is all. I hate being hot, it’s so annoying and irritating.” She listens intently as you whine. Her grin only making you whinier. You place your hands over her biceps and run your fingers up and down them softly, feeling her flex beneath your touch.

She leans in close and nudges her nose against yours. Your attitude slowly slipping away the more she distracted you with a very different kind of heat. She presses slow, soft kisses to your cheek down to your jaw. Mumbling a quiet, “You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you?” You nod and hum a whiney, ‘mhm.’ She chuckles and runs her hands up your hips and sides, her fingers digging into you gently.

“I know you’re all hot and miserable baby, but don’t be mean to me.” You pout for a very different reason this time. Abby’s words making your mind hazy and dizzy.

“Abby.” She only grins wider at you and nudges your nose with hers again. Telling you to ‘use your words baby.’ You tilt your head up and mumble, “Wanna real kiss.” Trying to catch her lips with your own, instead she pulls away ever so slightly and chuckles.

Placing a hand under your jaw, and another further up your waist she whispers into your ear, “Only sweet girls get real kisses.” This makes you pout and pull away completely, groaning and suddenly feeling that agonizing summer heat all over again. Abby laughs and grabs one your hands in hers and places soft kisses against the back of it. “Just kidding baby.. i’ll give you a real kiss if that’s what you want?”

“Obviously that’s what I want.” Right as the words slip past your lips, Abby places a hand under your jaw, pulling you and forcing you to look at her.

“I asked you to not be mean, didn’t I? I fucking meant it.” Her low voice sends another shiver down your spine and you can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face. Her eyebrows furrow and you giggle.

“Gonna kiss me for real and shut me up then?” She matches your grin at your question and a moment later her lips are attacking yours. Mumbling a ‘fucking tease,’ in between the heated kisses. A heat that is much more bearable and enjoyable.

#abby anderson #abbyanderson #abby the last of us #abby the last of us 2 #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby x reader #abby x female reader #abby x y/n #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x fem reader

2K notes · View notes

shiny-jr · 1 year

Text

☀ damnation [ the hyena chieftain ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar.

– Note: Not much to say right now, just a continuation of transferring the results from the quiz onto here so people can read. Like last time, if you haven’t taken the quiz, please try it! I worked a lot on it. As for now, I’m working on the next batch of results (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia). Scarabia is a current work in progress, had to rewrite part of it because I didn’t like it.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The King of Hearts | The Hyena Chieftain | The Diviner

Wrapped. You were partially wrapped in a thin cool cloth. It was hot, and whatever you woke up on was uncomfortable but was much better than the hard cold benches of the jail. Everything came rushing back in an instant, your crimes, those scowling judges, and the portal that led to your punishment— You were here, the place where you’d live the rest of your life in exile.

Looking around, you thought to yourself, it could be a lot worse. It appeared that you were in some type of room, or a small house, or rather— a cave. The low ceilings were uneven, rocky, reflective and shiny with dew. The hard cold floor was uneven, and looking down, you could see that you lay atop a dirty old mattress with no bed frame. The mattress was just on the floor, there were even a couple of springs cutting through the corners. Thankfully there was light thanks to an old broken lamp in the corner, lit by a flame instead of electricity. The few shelves on the wall were stock full of pots and pans and silverware, and just a few feet away there was a small stone stove. Looks like you ended up in someone’s house. But who’s? And why?

As you jumped up on your feet, you realized that the cloth you were swaddled in was not a blanket for this bed, but a gray wrap that stretched from your left shoulder to the right side of your hip, the cloth held in place by a thin belt around your waist. Attached to the belt was a scabbard, and inside was a curved dagger you curiously examined in the palms of your hands, covered in long fingerless brown gloves. This knife might be useful to keep on you. You never know when things might get dangerous. Tucking the weapon back in its place, you returned your attention to the rest of your outfit. Underneath your wrap, you wore an extremely loose fitted sleeveless brown tunic that could just barely be seen, with matching cargo pants and worn boots.

“Hey, boss! Guess who got a great haul?”

Surprised by the sudden voice, you looked up only to see a short guy barreling into the room, past the curtains that served as a barrier, with an armful of goods. You weren’t too focused on whatever he was carrying, you were distracted by something else attached to his head and lower back. Ears, and a tail. The guy had fluffy but messy brown hair that faded into a sandy blonde, his semi-round ears were brown and his short tail matched his hair color. Were those the characteristics of a dog or a cat…? More important, why had he called you boss?

His downturned eyes, gray in color, peered up at you as he dropped all of his goodies on the mattress you were just asleep on moments ago. Flashing a proud grin, he rummaged through the pile as he explained, “Bunch of tourists from afar were on their way to the kingdom. Lucky for us, they took a wrong turn and ended up on our land. I mean, look at all this cheddar! Coins, jewelry, clothes, oh, and check it out–– rations! There’s a bunch more where this came from. And don’t worry, we split up all the stuff like you told us.”

As he sorted through the various objects, you pried your eyes away from his animal features and noticed his gloves were torn, old and rugged from what must’ve been countless times being worn. In the spots that were torn through, his hands looked rough and damaged from work. Curiously you stepped closer, scanning the pile, “There’s no gloves…?”

“Nah, I went through everything before we split it and sent them to the different ends with the guys to hand out.” Tossing aside some cans, he inquired, “Why? You lookin’ for some?” Actually, now that you were looking at him, you realized most if not all of his clothes were most likely stolen. The white cotton tunic was browning with age and was several sizes too big on his thin form, the large gray pants he wore were held up by a belt similar to yours that held a knife, and he had a dark brown shawl long enough to wrap around his shoulders and extend down his sides.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but as you looked down at your hands, it became evident that this guy needed these accessories more than you did. Peeling off the long brown gloves from your palms, you outstretched your hands and watched as he hesitantly, confusedly, placed his palms against your own. Removing his old gloves, you replaced them with your own. They matched his shawl. “If you don’t want to throw away your old ones, then save the material to make something else.”

“Really? For me? Seriously, you’re always giving me your things…” Eyeing the new gloves on his hands, he tugged on the material, seemingly content with the new pair. Raising an eyebrow, he eyed you suspiciously, “Spit it out, what job do you want me to do?”

Job? Right, so it seemed like this guy thought you were his boss and he was the subordinate. But it wasn’t just an ordinary gig being run here. Based on what he said before, these people stole if not for a living, then probably very often. And it was a large number of thieves that included himself, and you were their leader…? This was getting too confusing. “Look, I think you’re getting things wrong.” Clear things up now. “I’m not––”

“Is bringin’ ya the news good enough to pay you back? Because I heard a lot of it from those tourists and from locals in the pride lands. Come on, let’s walk while we talk.” Gesturing you to follow, you hesitantly did, and what you saw outside surprised you.

It was the slums. The little house you had been in, was inside of a huge cave system that housed multiple other rooms and even rooms outside in the sun. The environment was rocky, hot, and barren, but there were still countless people about. People like this guy, with fur-covered ears and tails, in rags and worn clothing. Clothes were being washed in huge bins by groups and hung to dry on lines, there was another group over fires cooking bits of food and collecting cans, and various other jobs being done. However, what caught you off guard, was that each person smiled at you and greeted you merrily, calling you boss, as if they had known you for years. Then, they also greeted the guy beside you. Ruggie, they called him.

“So here’s the deal, it’s not looking good on food for the week. We scavenged and sent some fishermen to the far end of the river, we even got some more people than usual at the markets in the kingdom making the usual food runs. But with King Falena making random rounds with his soldiers, we’re risking the chance of our guys getting caught.” Rolling his eyes at the mention of this king, Ruggie scoffed, muttering in annoyance, “Falena’s a dad now, why can’t he just go waste his time playing dear old daddy for that dumb little spoiled brat of his?! That’d make things so much easier for us, you know?”

A king and a land of hungry… Why did this seem familiar? You looked back at the guy beside you and his animal ears and tail. Almost everyone else here had similar appendages. What animal were they…?

“Oh, and before I forget, that Prince Leona was skulking around the borderlands again. Says he wants to talk to you, told me to tell you that myself. Gave a time and everything, talk about conceited.” Annoyed at the memory, he folded his arms behind his head and huffed, “You know, I kinda hate that guy. He’s always trying to boss me around, as if I work for him. Lions, am I right?”

A lion…? A lion prince, and an impoverished community… That… That sounded like the story of the Lion King. A story you used to read a lot when you were a kid. It was about a powerful and majestic lion that ruled over the savanna, and eventually his queen had a son who became heir and next in line for the throne. However, the majestic king had a prince brother who desired the throne more than anything. So, in secret the second prince met with the frowned upon hyenas that lived in the outskirts of the kingdom where there was little food and little water. The second prince befriended the hyenas and with the promise of being allowed into the land of plenty, plotted to overthrow his brother with the help of the hyenas. His plan succeeded, partially, as he murdered his elder brother but his prince nephew escaped. Only years later, after a short harsh rein under the cruel second prince, did the young prince return, now grown. The young prince took back the throne after a duel, and the second prince fell to his demise as the very hyenas he allied himself with, turned against him when the second prince attempted to blame them for the entire ordeal.

“Rightttt…” You responded quietly, not really paying that much attention to him because you were currently trying to piece together what you knew and what was going on. “... What time did he give you?”

“Who? The prince?” Ruggie stopped to look up at the sun, analyzing the angle of the light and length of the shadows with the position of the sun. Slowly he shrugged, “I’d say in ‘bout… few minutes actually. You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”

The prince… This was a possible lead to… well, something, wasn’t it? Nodding to yourself, you answered confidently, “Yeah, I am, actually. Lead the way, will you?”

A sigh escaped past his lips as his shoulders sagged and he shoved his hands into his pockets. It seemed he was considering it, like he even wanted to say no, but finally he relented and threw up his hands. “You wanna see that stuck-up guy? Go for it. You’re the boss, you know what you’re doing.”

Yeah, you totally don’t know what you’re doing at all. Going with the gut feeling at the moment, and apparently your gut thought you should meet this prince, whoever he was. So you followed Ruggie as he obediently led the way through the dirt streets.

So wait, did that mean that this Ruggie guy and the rest of those people in the community were supposed to be the hyenas? Glancing at his animal characteristics, you could totally see it now. The fluffy ears and the short tail with brown or black colors, they were definitely the frowned upon hyenas of the story. Which meant that the majestic king was King Falena who Ruggie beside you off-handedly mentioned earlier, and his son was the kid prince that would one day rule the land after the tragedy. And finally, the villain of the story, the cruel and calculating second prince, brother of the majestic king… was this Prince Leona that wanted to meet you.

If you got all that right, then one of those outlandish rumors about where prisoners were banished to, was actually right! What a weird punishment, to be transported to the animal equivalent of Hamlet. At least they weren’t actually animals, just people with animal traits?

Now, considering all that, the rumors and information you had so far, what role did you play? It was obvious that the hyena folk didn’t see you as just some random human stranger that popped out of the sky and fell onto their land. No, they held you in high regard, like a person in power, despite not having their animal traits and you not knowing a single one of them. There was this one rumor your crazy aunt used to rave on and on about whenever a trial was broadcasted. Now it made sense as to the reason she always read you bedtime stories about good guys and bad guys, was precisely because she firmly believed that theory she always talked about. She truly believed that criminals would somehow end up in fantasy tales, and die in those tales. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She actually had it right on the money. Wait—

Did that mean you were going to die here? Nervously you looked over at Ruggie, who seemed completely content with walking in silence, as he led you through dry rugged lands of cliffs and stone.

As you walked beside him, careful of where you stepped, you replayed the whole story in your mind. You were with the hyenas, they called you boss, so were you… the hyena clan leader? The clan leader was respected by the rest of the hyenas, she called the shots, and dealt directly with the second prince when negotiating. It was also her who overheard the second prince betraying them when confronted by the kid prince after he returned. Then, she and the rest of her kin, attacked and killed the royal that betrayed them. Queen shit, but what happened to her after? It never clarified, since the story revolved around the kid prince and how he restored the savanna to its former glory once he reclaimed the throne. If you had to guess, she and the rest of the hyenas were probably forced into the outskirts once again, where there were little resources to live off of. There was no immediate death for her, no violence that ended her life, but she was surrounded by poverty, starvation, and lack of water until the day she died. That was still a horrible way to die…

The ending never sat particularly right with you as a kid. Surely all the hyenas weren’t bad, so why were they all driven away while all the lions got to live in the land of milk and honey? It didn’t make much sense, considering the main villain was a selfish lion too. You for one, did not want to settle with the destined ending already set in place.

If we’re going according to the plot, then this must be when the second prince initiates first contact with the hyenas and begins to gain their trust to use in the plotted coup against his elder brother. As you got near the top of a few cliffs, on one side were the slums you just emerged from, and on the other side was vast greenery as far as the eye could see with a large colorful vibrant city. Two completely different worlds, separated just by cliffs.

From your spot this high up, you could see various animal-like folk. Yet the most common had golden ears and a shiny mane, wearing just as shiny gold and jewels with fabulous garbs, living in huge houses no-doubt furnished entirely with fine objects and appliances. In a way, the huge gap between the rich and the poor reminded you of home, and not in a good way. You scowled at the abundance these lion-folk had, while thinking of the misery the hyena folk lived in. It really was no wonder that the hyena clan leader had willingly helped in a coup, if it meant her people would finally get a piece of the wealth. The scowl grew on your lips as you spat, “Eat the rich.”

“Hear, hear!” Ruggie threw his head back and laughed, but it was a sort of desolate laugh, not one of happiness. And it was obvious as to why it came out like that as he eyed the bountiful city down below. “If it weren’t for them, you’d be the ruler of this land, you know. Doesn’t that seem great? Getting to live life without worrying when your next meal will be or if there’s even enough water to drink?”

Resuming your trek behind Ruggie, you slowly nodded along to his words. “Yeah, that sounds like a dream to be honest…” But the hyenas eventually succeeded in becoming part of the savanna. However, it doesn’t last long before the savanna becomes a desolate wasteland. Perhaps it couldn’t support both the lions and hyenas, but stories liked to claim that the hyenas just consumed far too much due to their greed. If things did go according to the story, then you would have to find a way to prevent the land from becoming barren and lifeless.

Just as you reached the top of the cliff, you and Ruggie roamed the high grounds until you spotted something. Or rather, someone.

They were a towering figure, if you had to describe them, he looked like the most intimidating bouncer to stand at the entrance to the most exclusive club. Perfectly fitting the body-guard type, he must’ve been security for the second prince. He looked to be on the younger side but he had to be over six feet tall, and with a muscular build like that, you feared that he’d easily be able to take on both you and Ruggie if things went south.

His attire was unlike yours, it was dark brown thick fabric with colorful orange and red vibrant patterns over his torso, that were mostly concealed by bronze and gold plates over his shoulders and chest. And in his hands, he held a long sharpened spear. Yup, definitely a guard. It became obvious that he noticed you, because his golden-brown eyes became laser focused on you and your companion. His ears–– among his wild mess of white hair that contrasted against the healthy bronze glow of his skin, were white pointed wolf-like ears, standing upright in attention. That’s when you noticed his long bushy tail too.

Yeah, that’s a white wolf, but there were no white wolves in the story…? Additionally, he looked nothing like Ruggie, who was short with his brown and blonde hair and beige skin, that easily allowed him to blend in with the rocky environment. Were you wrong? Was this not a story?

The wolf guy eyed you and Ruggie with suspicion before stamping the dull end of his spear against the ground and barked, “The prince approaches! His highness wants–– er… is requesting an audience with… you.” He pointed at you with his spear.

Inexperienced. You were right, the guard was young and he doubted himself with that last line. You exchanged glances with Ruggie, who must’ve been thinking the same thing as you, because he covered his mouth and whispered,

“Newbie. Fresh meat.”

You cracked a bit at that last bit, a very short and brief laugh nearly escaping your lips, to which Ruggie only grinned at before lowering his hand. The guard did not seem to appreciate the laughter in response, because his ears flattened back a bit and his frown deepened in embarrassment as he chastised, “I heard that! You disrespectful–– If you have dignity, you would respect the prince!”

“Why should I? He’s a lion, he’s definitely not my prince.” Crossing his arms, Ruggie took amusement in the wolf’s annoyance. So he continued cockily, “Yeah, we know who he is. He’s just like all those other lions, lazy, arrogant, you name it.”

The guard looked like he wanted to retaliate, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to go about it physically or verbally as he clenched his fists and gritted his sharp canines. You sent a look over at Ruggie to which he zipped his lips and offered a half-assed apologetic shrug that was directed more to you than to the wolf.

Just before you could find out if this wolf would act on impulse, a figure you hadn’t even noticed appeared from the shadows of the cliff.

“Don’t let them get to you, Jack. They enjoy seeing you all flustered.”

Immediately you whipped your head towards the approaching figure, wondering how they were so quiet. How long had they been there? When he stepped out of the shadows, you were immediately blinded by the jewels and beads wrapped around his neck and wrists. Even his red agbada was decorated with golden and orange linings, highlighting his wealth even further, as if the rare accessories weren’t enough. A mane, a long brown mane just slightly darker than his cool umber tone, was nearly enough to hide his own animal traits. Almost. You could make out the shape of large cat-like ears and a long thin tail that hung limply. A lion. This could only be Prince Leona, the second prince.

Turning his predatory green-eyed gaze over to you and your companion, he faked mock dejection before an amused type of grin appeared on his tired face. “We lions can’t be that bad. Try not to lump me in with them.”

You stood a distance away with Ruggie, carefully eyeing the prince. Right over his left eye, was a lengthy scar. At the moment he seemed… alright, but if you were right about this world’s events following the plot of the story, then this prince was to be feared. The second prince was cunning, calculating, and cruel. Very nearly did he succeed in everything. He murdered his elder brother, he completed the coup, he won over the hyenas, he became king. The only thing that went astray in his near-perfect plan, was the escape of his nephew that allowed the cub to grow and eventually become strong enough to regain the throne. That was the second prince’s one mistake that led to his demise. Slowly, albeit unsurely, you nodded your head in acknowledgement of his presence.

“Chief.” Leona nodded back regally, his curved charming smile keeping you on your toes. “I’m surprised you accepted the invitation. I didn’t think you would come. I thought maybe you’d send your little lapdog for you.”

Glancing at Ruggie, you noted his irritated frown, but the comment didn’t appear to dig into him too much. You’d have to choose your words carefully. Afterall, this was a prince you were dealing with. These were practically diplomatic issues, one misstep could bring trouble. But, luckily, you knew how things would go, and you had a rough idea of how the second prince would react according to the story’s plot. Even if things did go astray, not everyone would jump to defend the second prince. It’s said he was disliked by nearly everyone in his home kingdom.

Turning your attention back to the said royal, you responded calmly with an even smile, “I thought maybe the prince would have better manners and better brains than to just openly offend one of my own. Do you know what we do to royalty that step out of their kingdom?”

Once those words left your mouth, Jack bared his teeth and pointed his spear at you, bending his knees and shifting into a fighting stance.

However, Leona’s amusement at your retort quickly faded as he appeared unimpressed at his guard’s action. “Easy, boy. Relax.” Once the wolf begrudgingly lowered his spear and resumed his standing position, the prince shrugged, “It’s true, it’s not much of an invitation from me since we are still on your land. Forgive my impertinence, won’t you, chief? Where are my manners? I shall practice my curtsy next time I greet the ruler of the hyenas.”

At his sarcasm and dramatic curtsey, you gave a quick chortle. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

“I realize that, which is why I’ve come with an offering.” Leona snapped his fingers, gesturing to his bodyguard.

You hadn’t even noticed but Jack was carrying a bulky knapsack which he removed off his back at the sound of the prince’s snap. Zipping it open, he dumped all the contents of the bag onto the space between himself and the royal. Shaking it to make sure it was empty, he then tossed the bag aside, leaving a sizable pile of canned rations and packed goods. The metals and reflective packaging shone in the sun, tempting the hyena beside you.

Holding out your arm, you stopped Ruggie from jumping into the pile of food, shaking your head at his hands itching to snatch up every single object he could carry. This was it, you realized. This was how he befriended the hyenas and earned their trust. He bore gifts they desperately needed in the name of good-will, and only later did he reveal his plot that required their assistance. It wasn’t a friendship, it was something akin to a treaty. A treaty that would one day be torn to shreds the moment he betrays the hyena-folk. When you looked up, everyone was watching you, waiting to see what you would do. It felt as if the lion was patiently biding his time until you fell into his trap.

The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? There was that option, or… you could stay and play the role of chieftain of the clan. Then, with your knowledge of the story, you could alter the course of the future, get rid of the kid prince and keep the kingdom from declining once the hyenas arrived, and live the rest of your life in the beautiful land of plenty. To be honest, that last option sounded way better than the first.

Clearing your throat, you began, “I see what you’re doing here, Prince Leona. Offering food with a smile, waiting for us to eat out of your hand like obedient mutts so you can save us in your backpocket for something… devious. I respect that.�� Focusing your gaze on the surprised prince, you once again flashed another smile before nodding to Ruggie, to which the hyena immediately dove forward to claim the offering. “But if you want our trust, or are trying to fool us, it’s going to take a lot more than that.”

In an instant, Ruggie had shoved every single ration and good back into the sack. Once done, he threw it over his shoulder and merrily gave a salute, jogging backwards until he was right back at your side. “Pleasure doing business!”

“Distribute that when we get back.” You murmured to the hyena, then averting your attention back to the important matter at hand. The prince. Giving him a thankful nod, you began to take your leave, following after your energetic companion, but not without bidding your goodbye, “Prince Leona, and Jack, was it? I look forward to next time. And next time, try not to underestimate us.”

At your words, Leona merely scoffed, his smile gone as he warned slowly, “Oh no, perhaps you shouldn’t underestimate me. But for now… Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

By the second visit, a week had passed.

In that week, you had begun to get a feel for what this role you took over required. It may have seemed like an attractive role, to be a clan leader beloved by many, but it was tiring and grueling work. It required hard labor, there wasn’t a moment you weren’t busy either with tasks directly for the clan or by solving disputes within the community. Directing the groups of expert pick-pockets and looters to areas of the prosperous kingdom where King Falena was least likely to appear on his rounds, assisting in separating and handing out the stolen goods when the group returned, collecting foraged foods to cook with a group designated to prepare meals with the little they had, that was only a small list of responsibilities you had somehow managed to successfully deal with since arriving. The meals you had were not full course ones, but it was just enough to get by on, but not enough to keep you full since you’d wake up every morning with an aching hunger.

As you climbed up the cliff to the meeting spot designated by the prince who once again sent word through Ruggie, you were followed by said hyena. The guy was really a huge help around here, it was no wonder that everyone in town loved him, even if he was conniving, he only really ever plotted against the lion-folk.

In your head, you went over the story for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t remember any other specific reason the second prince would visit again unless he was trying to further build the foundation of trust. To be honest, you had been so busy trying to complete your work and blend in the past few days, that you had forgotten about the prince for a while. Until now that is. When you arrived at the meeting spot, Jack and Prince Leona were already there waiting.

As soon as the lion’s green gaze landed on you, a smile appeared on his face. You didn’t like his smile. It was the type of smile that felt like it was hiding something, it felt like more of a grin or a smirk. But perhaps that’s just the way he smiled. “Why, if it isn’t the chieftain descending from on high to meet me? Or shall I say, ascending from down low.” His gaze flickered to the run-down abodes down below.

“Haha, uh-huh, watch it, Prince.” You raised your gaze to meet his, having to look up at him as he casually strolled past you. Getting close enough that you worried he might try something. “Let’s speak privately. You seemed to doubt my sincerity last time, so let me try again. Jack.” Turning to face his personal guard that approached when summoned, Leona gestured to the wolf and continued, “Take him. You have him for one week. Use him as you like. Through intense labor, guarding, whatever. He’ll serve you well, just try not to use him for your little thieving parties. If caught, I’d rather not have to explain to the court why my own guard was working hand-in-hand with you hyenas, stealing from citizens of the kingdom. He’s a good guard, comes from the northern continent, new and naive but he has enough strength to overpower some of my brother’s own guards. But I laid claim to him before Falena could.”

You eyed the muscular guard up and down, looking at Ruggie who appeared just as caught off guard as you were. When your companion met your gaze, he shrugged, looking uncertain. Turning your attention back to the guard, you crossed your arms and inquired, “And what’s your say on this, big guy? You’re really okay being left here for a week in this wasteland?”

Those big pointed ears of his perked up as he peered down at you, looking the tiniest bit astonished that you would even ask his opinion on this matter. Actually, you were a little offended, because you could clearly tell he was surprised.

“I’m not gonna take you if you don’t want to come. Please, I am not as savage as your royal master here.”

That slight smirk on Leona’s face and lack of denial spoke volumes.

Jack nodded, hesitantly bowing his head in respect as he answered, “I’d be honored to be part of any deal to mend relationships between the hyena-folk and the rest of the kingdom.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. That’s how Leona was painting it out to be to his loyal guard. In reality, what Jack said wasn’t that far from the truth. Hyenas would become part of the kingdom, but probably in not the manner he expected it to happen.

“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it, chieftain?”

“I guess it does.” Shifting your attention from Leona and with one more glance at Jack, you resisted the urge to laugh at the wolf’s slowly wagging tail and determined expression. Poor guy really thought he was going to make a meaningful difference, when he was all just a pawn in the prince’s plot… “Ruggie, take Jack down to the town and show him the ropes. Give him a job that won’t get us in trouble with the king.”

Your subordinate side-eyed the guest who was looking at him expectantly, before frowning and finally waving at him to follow. “C’mon, let’s get outta here and let them talk boring politics. I’ll show you around then tell you where you’ll be working the rest of the day.”

You watched the two take their leave and head back down to the town, ignoring the way Leona purposefully stepped closer. So close that his thick locks nearly brushed against your nose when he turned to walk away. “As he said, let’s talk politics.” You watched as he sat on a large rock conveniently placed under the shade of the higher cliffs, and he gestured for you to do the same. So you sat across from him on another rock, and continued with your inquiry, “Why are you so incessant on gaining our trust?”

“Hm, I wonder…” He hummed, pulling out a bag that was hidden behind the very rock he sat on. Without any explanation as to what was inside, he dropped it at your feet. You had a decent guess as to what it was. Supplies. “Here you are. Now, I’ll be taking my leave––”

Watching him get up, you remained seated and merely murmured, “If you won’t answer me, you won’t receive my trust. Trust is a two way street, you know? So if you tell me what it is you want, we might actually make progress today instead of just ending at another standstill.” When he stood still, you murmured with a confident smile, “You want the throne, don’t you?”

Those tired green eyes carefully studied you before he grinned with equal confidence and muttered, “You aren’t the real chieftain, are you?” You slipped up and froze, your expression dropping, and that’s when he knew he had you. “The real chieftain wouldn’t take the initiative to extend conversation with me, or have the confidence to tease. And yet, the hyenas appear to treat you the same. I wonder if they have realized, hm?”

A standstill once again. You felt your throat dry, uncertain how to respond. He had you, but you had him. If you revealed his secret, then he could be banished from his homeland or worse, and he’d never ever get to sit on the throne. If he revealed your secret, you may be a goner, there was still that slim chance that the hyenas would turn on you. When he didn’t sit down, you gulped and hesitantly tried, “Your brother… what would he say?”

“You would tell him? Oh, how the thought of my big brother knowing makes me quiver with fear.” He mockingly hissed, chuckling at the end. “Falena knows I wish to be king, he just cannot comprehend the things I would do to attain the crown. Even if you could reach him, why would he have any reason to believe the word of a lowly being from the hyena clan? Is it not as you said? Trust is a two-way street.” A smirk curled on his lips, revealing his unnaturally sharp canines. “Let’s establish a bit of trust between us, little chieftain. You must know, I mean no disrespect. I have a certain… respectfor those that try so hard to be on par with me.”

You watched him carefully, feeling your nerves rise until he slowly sat back down. Only then could you breathe a sigh of relief, but you didn’t, because you had to keep your guard up around him. You couldn’t allow another little thing to slip, and give him the upperhand. Meeting his tired green eyes that never once strayed away from your form, you admitted, “I just want to survive.”

For a moment, he was quiet, looking you up and down, analyzing you as he slowly leaned against the larger stone behind him where he rested one arm. “Life's not fair, is it, my deceitful friend? I’d gamble and say wherever you’ve come from, whatever your circumstances, they were not much better than they are now, are they?”

The trial and your banishment immediately came to mind once his words reached your ears. You averted your gaze downward and frowned as you thought of how cruelly you were tossed out of the community, how they did not care what would happen to you now. And then there was everything beforehand, your personal grapples and struggles with the rigid rules of that society. It left a bitter taste on your tongue. Somehow, it's as if Leona sensed your anger and hate boiling inside. It might actually be similar to himself, perhaps that’s why he one day snapped and decided that what he desired most far outweighed the lives of those few who loved him.

At your silence, he continued, “While some are born to feast, others spend their lives in the dark, begging for scraps. The way I see it… you and I, are exactly the same. We both want to find a way out, and that way is through what my brother has.”

Your eyes shifted back up to his neutral expression. You knew what was coming. But, you were curious, “Why confide in us? Why not just challenge the king in the duel? You do have that right, since you're from royal blood just like him. Ritual combat is the easy way out, isn’t it?” You already partially knew of the answer to this, but maybe now, under these changed and special circumstances, he would give up more information.

At that, he scoffed, appearing irritated as he replied, “You think facing Falena is the easy way out? Tsk. I’d call you a fool, but you clearly aren’t that. Just ignorant at times. I wouldn’t dream of challenging him again.” Leaning forward, he folded his hands together, and then his mood began to change. That vexed frown began to steadily shift into an eager grin, an ominous one that showed hunger. Not a gluttonous hunger for food or drink or anything of that sort, it was a hunger for power, and the second prince was starved of it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the mighty strength his royal highness has. But, I do have something he does not best me in: brains.”

There it is. The proposal. This was it.

Leona turned his head to the horizon, noting the direction of the sun that was beginning to fall, day was turning to night. Gazing at the colorful sky with you silently observing as you remained in his company. “I believe I should be going.”

What? You watched incredulously as Leona stood from his seat and stretched his arms over his head, opening his jaw to let out a big old yawn. What lax behavior for a prince. And what was his deal? Cutting things off when things were just getting good! You felt like you just watched the most anticipated episode of a soap opera only for it to end on a cliffhanger at the huge climax, but also… it felt like he finally moved the knife away from your throat, metaphorically speaking. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, so his words would haunt you until the day he returned. “That’s it?”

Noting your frown, the prince gave a lazy grin as his arms swung back against his sides. “Don’t be too depressed. I’ll be back in a few days for my guard, and to continue these talks with you. And I won’t hold your little secret over your head, as long as you don’t hold mine against me. I have a very interesting proposition that you and your kin will love, one I’m sure we can all agree to without the use of our secrets. But until next time, consider to what lengths you’d go for yourself… and your clan, of course.” Nodding his head to you in acknowledgment, he turned away and began his trek back home, but not before leaving you with these thoughts weighing heavy on your head, well over an armful of supplies to carry home, and those familiar parting words, “Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Over the next few days, not only had Leona’s words truly haunted you and prevented you from getting sleep at night, but you also had to keep watch over the wolf on top of your usual duties.

But surprisingly, Jack fit in just fine. You weren’t sure what to expect from the guy in the first place, considering he was pretty out of place in this setting and you still had no idea what role he played in the original tale. Yet somehow, he seemed to fit right in, swiftly handling chores that would usually take multiple people hours long to complete, getting along with the village children running about and mischievously attempting to trip him up, and beginning to look up to the conniving Ruggie. Everyone was incredibly weary that a palace guard was among the community, some even questioned your decision, but when he showed he was useful, he was gladly accepted. Most even thought he was humble and pretty amusing for such a tough guy to be so dedicated to following your right-hand hyena.

Speaking of following… You had caught the wolf stalking you on multiple occasions, but never outright admitting he was tailing after you. Had you been had? Was Jack actually instructed to spy on you by that second prince? No, there was no way. Jack had rigid morals and stooping so low as to spy under the guise of a diplomatic deal to mend relations would definitely go against those morals. Although you did have to admit, it was pretty funny to see him try and sneak around to shadow you when he stuck out like a sore thumb.

One day, in the middle of his stay, you were startled to find him outside of your room, so alarmed that you mistook him for someone else with the lack of brown hyena appendages, that you nearly brought out your dagger to strike. Only for him to greet you good morning rather enthusiastically, confusing you with the change of attitude from him. It was different from what you were used to. Ruggie was fairly quiet in the mornings, he was much kinder, at least to you and those he cared for, so he’d greet you with a dopey smile and sparkle in those downturned eyes. Jack, however, was not like that. His greeting was reminiscent of that of a soldier at morning salute, not smiling but still full of energy. Then he’d only take his leave once you informed him where you would be throughout the day.

Then came the unexpected acts of service. Whenever you required assistance with a chore or had to send word out, the hyenas would listen to your commands obediently. But Jack took that to a whole other level. Whenever he had completed his tasks, he’d come to you, taking up the role of subordinate much to Ruggie’s annoyance. The only way you could get the wolf off your back and to stop him from taking over your own chores, was to give him a list of more tasks that was hopefully enough to keep him busy for the next few hours. Yet somehow despite all that, it never was enough to stop him.

At dinner time when most of the clan sat down to eat at the center of the village, he’d serve you and proudly explain that he helped hunt and gather food for the day! Just when you thought you could get away after eating, you’d be dead wrong. Because somehow, Jack would find you, and escort you home, despite your insistence that you didn’t need a personal guard to walk you home. It had only been one day, but the guy was already starting to get on your nerves. How did Leona even deal with him?

So when you were greeted by him on the final day of his stay, you decided to cut things off here.

“Look, Howl, answer me this. Why are you so insistent and respectful all of a sudden?” You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily as you continued your small interrogation. “Didn’t you nearly attack me and Ruggie the first time we met? You seemed like you hated us, so why the change? Huh?”

At your words, his ears flattened in shame and he averted his gaze down to the uneven ground, looking like a kicked puppy. “I misjudged you and your clan, I’m sorry… I’ve been trying to make it up to you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you, and you’re a respectable leader, more than most give you credit for.” Did he not realize how weird that first line sounded? “I have to apologize. I fell for the rumors without knowing anything about you, and that was wrong. In the kingdom, they don’t exactly say the most… flattering things about you and the others. But they’re dead wrong!” At his sudden exclamation, your eyes widened and you stared at him as he continued his rave angrily, as if he were the one being whispered about. “You aren’t some mangy stupid rude crook! You’re fair, selfless, and diligent! And all the hyena-folk starving and living like this… they don’t deserve it!!”

“Are you done?” You frowned at his outburst, waiting until he pursed his lips together and silently nodded. His fluffy white tail hanging limply behind him. Well, he was sincere, even if everything he said wasn’t true, at least about you. You weren’t all those good things he said, you were just doing this to survive, to save and later improve your own life. However, if accepting his apology meant you would finally get some breathing room, then you had no choice but to accept. “It’s alright. You’re forgiven. Besides, complaining isn’t going to help us in any way. If that weren’t the case, you’d hear me complaining all the time.”

Jack remained quiet, slowly nodding, “You’re right… Which is why I’m going to help for as long as I can!” He what…?Looking even more determined than before, he gazed down at you and confided, “You’ll be striking up a deal with my boss, won’t you, chieftain? Now I know why he’s so incessant on sending rations every once in a while! And the king… he wouldn’t approve so that’s why he’s gotta do it in secret!”

Yeah, no, Leona was most definitely not sending supplies out of the pure goodwill of his heart.

“I want to stay here with you, and help out as much as I can! Until people won’t go hungry anymore!”

“Uh-huh…” You muttered, noticing his slowly wagging tail. He was getting way too worked up over this. “Don’t you know, if the king heard you say all that stuff, then you’d be a traitor? Hyenas and lions are sworn enemies. You’d lose everything. The only reason you’re currently not labeled as a traitor by the state, is because your boss has you here in secret.”

“I know… but Leona wants to help you guys out too, doesn’t he?”

The answer to that was… debatable. “Sure, let’s just say we both might help each other out. Why?”

“Then… I’m swearing my loyalty to you!”

You froze, stunned into silence. Without even needing to ask why, he answered.

“You know I’m from the north. I’m from a small village, a poor one. Not as poor at this one, but I know what it’s like to be in need. This place needs my help, more than the king and his kingdom do, even more than Prince Leona. So I’m going to do all I can until everyone has enough to eat and drink.” Stepping closer, you winced a bit at the rapid wagging of his tail that created a slight wind and you did not miss the instance his pointed ears perked up straight in attention. “Leona doesn’t need my help, he’s honestly stronger than me… but that doesn’t mean I’m weak! I can be useful!”

Yeah, you know. You witnessed a sparring match with him yesterday where he was able to take on five of your own men and women. Actually, with everything he’s saying now, it all made sense as to why as soon as he was victorious in yesterday’s match, he looked in your direction as if expecting praise. Total sense. Even if you did reject his pledge, you had a feeling he wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer.

“I’ll be your guard now, boss!” He was looking down at you expectantly again with those sparkling eyes.

Jack really had no clue what he was getting himself into, did he? You merely sighed, not willing to sit here and listen to his reasoning all morning. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Jack, welcome to the clan. Just don’t expect me to be the one to break the news to your now former boss.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Chief!”

You stirred, groaning as you begrudgingly opened your eyes, stretching out on the rough mattress and shivering from the cold of the windy outskirts. When you glanced to the side, there was Ruggie, crouching at your bedside and looking both wide-awake and alert. Blinking slowly, you muttered, “What is it, Ruggie?”

“There’s a spy! We’ve been had, boss, but they’re still around. We got them surrounded, so they’re not going anywhere.” The hyena watched as you immediately sat up, giving you space to place on your boots and grab some weapons.

You grabbed a few things, whatever seemed useful and small enough to carry on your person. Something like this hasn’t happened since you arrived, but you had a good idea on how to go about the situation from stories told to you by local residents. They said spies were much more common a few years ago, and the former clan leader could be much more… brutal in her resolve. A spy appearing now was throwing a wrench in your plan, especially if they noticed a certain white-tailed soldier here. “Who noticed them?”

“Jack. He’s the one keeping them at bay, but knowing him, he’s probably beaten them an inch within their life.”

“Shit.” Great! Just peachy! Just the opposite of what you needed. If that spy got word back to authorities that a guard of theirs had turned, it could ruin Leona’s plot. Which might mean that the hyenas would never get to live in the pride lands. When you heard running footsteps, you quickly removed the curtain separating your room from the outside. You stepped outside just in time to see a figure sprinting past your door–– that is until a thin rope was thrown at their feet, tripping them up by getting their legs tangled in the material.

Thump!

They fell over with a yelp before being dragged in the direction they had come from. In an instant, the person who had caught them and dragged them back, had tossed the remaining rope over a tall wooden pole that held a small lit candle to dimly illuminate the dark street. Jack heaved on the rope, pulling so the captor hung by their legs several feet off the ground, like some rare catch being displayed in the middle of the town.

“Y-You can’t do this to me! You’re part of the kingdom! This is treason!” The spy cried as Jack tied the rope to the pole so he could let go and they wouldn’t fall.

Slowly approaching, you announced your presence with your voice. “What do you have there, Jack?”

As soon as his ears detected your voice, he stood upright almost as if in salute as he answered, “Boss, I heard them sniffing about the storage. They planned to poison the only water source we have.” He turned to glare at the captured spy, nearly growling, “This would’ve made everyone sick, and people would’ve died.”

“Huh. I get it now.” According to your knowledge, this was not the first time something of this sort had happened before. Although the last time it happened was years ago. Several years ago, when a group of lion-folk attempted to cut off the biggest food source the hyena-folk had. Tilting your head at the spy, you noted their dark lion ears and tail. One of the few outcasted so called weak and sick lion-folk that came to the village as the only place they could go when their own turned them away.

Jack gazed down at you, murmuring, “It’s your call, boss.”

Their arms flung around wildly as they attempted to stop themselves from swinging in their captured state. From the shadows there were eyes, watching so intently, and you were sure that this snoop knew they were being watched by more than just you and the wolf beside you. They struggled to speak properly, but managed to choke out a desperate plea, “If you let me go, I-I’ll never come back here or to the kingdom! I won’t say a word about this wolf-man here. And–– I’ll tell you who sent me! But! You must promise that you won’t kill me.”

You ignored Jack’s gaze, focusing your attention on this back-stabber. You recognized them. They had been in the hunting group. Continuing your staring contest with them, watching their wide eyes and the way their chest went up and down with quick breaths in rapid succession, you finally had your reply. As calm as can be, you responded, “I swear I won’t kill you. Now, who sent you to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

Hesitating, they then groaned and relented, “The queen! The queen has been wanting to put a stop to the constant thieving and tricks by the hyenas. So she sent me to get rid of a few.”

“That’s all I need to know.” The queen was hardly mentioned in the original tale. All that you knew was that she was supposedly a strong and respectable woman, beloved by the whole kingdom, and deeply in love with the king. Oh, but now you are beginning to despise her. She too had no idea of the change that was to come. “I think it’s fair game now. She tried to take the lives of people here, so I’ll take everything from her.”

As you began to walk away and wordlessly gestured for Jack to follow, the captee began to squirming anxiously, not able to reach the rope around their ankles. They hung out like a piece of steak to dry, and for their crimes, that’s exactly how they will be treated. A piece of scrap to be torn apart bit by bit. “Wait, chief! Don’t leave me like this! We had a deal! Any crime seen has to be reported, wolf! You took that oath when you started working for the royals!”

Slowly nodding at his words, after a few more paces you noticed Jack froze. Sighing, you turned around, watching the enemy struggle like a miserable little fly caught in a web. Bending down, you picked up a sizable stone which you judged the weight of in your hands, inspecting it in your palm. “You’re right. I promised that I wouldn’t kill you. And as per his oath, Jack has to report what he saw. He can’t report what he doesn’t see.” Tossing the stone, you struck the candle atop the post, extinguishing the flame and the only light source for this block. It was night, and there was no way to see.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?”

The glowing eyes of the watching hyenas seemed to brighten in the sudden darkness. Multiple pairs of eyes steadily creeping closer to the defenseless traitor.

“Oh, wow, too bad. The light went out. Guess we can’t see.”

You ignored the traitorous lion’s cries and begs for mercy, a rapturous laughter breaking out from the multiple spectators. Their giggles rung in your ears, the pure multitude of them overpowering the fearful shrieks of the one criminal. You managed to get the former royal guard to look ahead instead of back behind him, escorting the wolf further down the road because from your room you were certain you would still be able to hear the carnage about to take place. As Jack went a few steps ahead before taking a turn at a block, you lingered behind, looking back to see the enemy screaming and wriggling wildly but to no avail. They continued to hang from their feet as the glowing eyes from the darkness crept closer and closer, no doubt ready to strip them for all they had and give them a punishment for their betrayal that could only make them yearn for the sweet release of death.

You followed with Jack, getting far away, enough so you could no longer hear the pained screeches and wails of misery. Once far enough, you questioned, “Did you know? About the queen?”

Jack whipped his head towards you, his white hair rising a bit. He looked as if you asked him if he poisoned the water. Betrayed. “No!! I’d never do something as low as that!”

“It’s just a question.”

He frowned deeply, ears flattening as per usual when he was somber. “Why did you do that…?”

Stopping in your tracks beside him, you looked up at him, able to see his features well on these dimly lit streets. “What, that back there? If we let them go, they would’ve reported you anyway. I know their type. Besides, I have to help out my own, don’t I? That’s my job.”

His expression went blank, but you could practically see the words being processed in his head. The more it registered, the more his ears perked up and the faster his bushy tail wagged. It was difficult for him to hide that slight curve tugging at the corner of his lips, no matter how hard he tried to remain stone-faced. “Your own…” That meant acceptance, didn’t it? “Right, I understand now… Thanks, chief.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Maybe saying that to Jack was a mistake. His insistence on being your closest subordinate had only worsened, if that were even possible. He burned through chores and tasks even faster, sticking by your side like glue. As you tried to escape his presence at least for a minute, you found yourself on the outskirts of the village by the abandoned bones of giant creatures and in the dark rocky valley where most lion-folk wouldn’t dare venture.

In between two small cliffs, you were abruptly yanked up in a tiny cranny where a familiar hyena quickly motioned to keep quiet. It was a small little nook he found off the ground, a cool shaded perch nestled between the larger rocks. Holding a single finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, he grinned when he heard the wolf calling your name was getting further and further away. After a moment, he finally relaxed, sighing loudly, “Man, I thought that beefcake would never leave! Seriously, who’s he think he is? He’s practically trying to rob me of my top spot! I’ve worked my tail off for this place beside you, you know? Jack won’t ever understand, he could only dream of getting on my level with you! I kept my promise, you know.”

“Hm?” When you turned your head to look over at him, he was gazing at you with those gray eyes, watching you intently. Before a content looking smile steadily overcame his features.

“My promise, you remember, don’t ya? When you used to take care of us and the other kids, just because you were the oldest and the strongest. So you’d go out and make those dangerous rounds into the kingdom all on your own, and you’d always come back with just enough food for us to share. But you were always injured somehow.” In this small space, he had to sit curled up, bending his knees but using them as a spot to lean the side of his head against. He continued to smile at you, giggling at those mysterious memories in his head. “It worried us sick when you left, and when you came back scratched up we couldn’t stop cryin’. So one day, I promised you that I’d get stronger to help you out and… Well, I’ve kept that part of the promise. Now the only part left is the part where I swore we’d live in a huge fancy palace one day where you didn’t have to go out and do the hunting!”

So Ruggie was close to the real chief, even before they became leader of the clan… It made you feel slightly guilty for taking up this moniker. But you had no choice when you were tossed into this world with no warning. However, even if Ruggie couldn’t fulfill this childish promise, you would. It was the least you could do, not just for yourself, but for the rest of the hyena-folk. He helped you so much in that first week. Leaning your head against the wall, you responded quietly, “I’ll make sure you get to live in a palace someday soon, Ruggie. I promise.”

“Don’t say that, or I’m gonna hold you up to it! Besides, I promised first. Make up your own.” He laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours as a cheeky grin spread on his lips. After a moment, he waited, gazing at you impatiently as he tilted his head and rested it back against his knees. “Well? C’mon, tell me, what’re you gonna promise to me?”

“What should I promise you…?” Tapping your finger against your chin, you pondered on the thought. What would Ruggie want? Scratch palace off the list, because he already claimed that. An abundance of food seemed like an option, but you rather not risk promising him that and watching the land run out of resources. Promising him a place in the pride lands was a bit too much on the nose. It would just make you seem suspicious when you would eventually get all the hyena-folk access to the pride lands. Finally, after a few moments of thinking with no ideas, you shrugged and inquired, “Well, what do you want, Ruggie? What can I give you?”

That cheeky grin grew wider, stretching across his face as he averted his gaze, beating around the bush and drawing out his words for further suspense. “Welllll… Actually, there is something I can think of, call me greedy.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, feeling your own smile begin to form. “Okay, greedy, what is it?”

If you took a peek, you could see his short brown tail moving side-to-side rapidly as he lifted his head, “Swear you won’t laugh? Even if it is mushy and stuff?”

Amused, you gave a soft chuckle, “I swear, I won’t laugh. Even if it’s mushy.”

Shifting so he was facing you with his legs crossed, he began somewhat hesitantly, almost nervously, before gaining a bit of confidence the more he went on. “I want you to promise me that I’ll always be your number two, and you’ll always let me stay beside you.”

Raising an eyebrow, it suddenly hit you. Ruggie was jealous of Jack! At that realization, a small laugh escaped your lips as you poked him, pestering him for a response as you teased, “Aww, were you jealous of that big bad wolf~? Is that it? I should’ve known! You’ve always been sticking by me, then Jack comes and ruins your flow. Who would've guessed?”

“Shut––! I’m not jealous!” He hissed, growing embarrassed. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you lyin’ little––!”

Laughing and giggling reached your ears, causing you and Ruggie to both freeze. His semi-round ears perked up, both of you listening intently to the voices. It sounded like two children, but it wasn’t familiar. Leaning your ear closer to the stone wall, you listened to the voices that were getting closer and closer, almost directly below the hiding spot you were in.

“This is it. Just like my uncle said!” One of the voices whisper-yelled, as if they were worried about whatever may lurk just around the corner, or just above them. It sounded like a young boy. But none of the children you had encountered in the village sounded like him, and you met practically all of them.

The second voice piped up. It was the voice of a young girl. “It’s so creepy… People really live out here?” That implied they were children not from the outskirts.

Then you were reminded of a scene from the original story. The young prince, son of the majestic king, heard a secret from his uncle, the second prince. The second prince told him of a graveyard full of bones among the outskirts, just past the kingdom’s reach, where only the bravest of souls ventured and returned from. The young kid prince, being such an ambitious child, foolishly snuck out to the outskirts with his friend. There, they were attacked by the hyenas, for the outskirts were their territory. The only reason the two children and royal attendant who arrived late to save them, were not killed, was because the majestic king arrived just in time to fend off attacks and warn the hyenas to never attack his son again. That scene was about to happen, right now.

As the two children, the kid prince and his friend, went back and forth, you and Ruggie exchanged glances. Steadily a grin spread on the hyena’s face as he mouthed: fresh meat.

Before he could even think about moving, you held up your hand, motioning him to keep still and quiet as you detected an additional pair of steps. Steps coming quickly, heavier, meaning it was someone in a rush. Someone heavier than a child. “Wrong! The only thing we’ll be doing is going home! We’re way beyond the boundaries of the kingdom!”

The royal attendant that served the king himself, there was no mistaking it. It was happening. Silently, you and your right-hand hyena listened to the slight bickering and scolding occurring between the young royal and the attendant. As much as you wished to end the king’s royal lineage here, which would allow Leona to take the throne once Falena passed, that would take far too long. The kid prince couldn’t die here. He needed to remain alive, that way you could be sure to kill two lions with one stone later. Besides, killing the two later by staging the accident was much more preferable to killing the young prince in cold blood while the king remained alive and could wreak havoc in revenge.

Ignoring the continuous conversation down below, you looked over at Ruggie who appeared antsy. “Now?” He whispered impatiently.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to face the majestic king alone if he really was strong enough to make people fear him. So, turning your attention to Ruggie, you replied in a hushed tone, “Backup first. No wolf in this royal business. And I want them alive.” You grinned, giving him the sign to go. “Scare them good.”

The royal attendant quickly attempted to usher them away, but the two children stubbornly refused to budge. “Right now, we’re all in very real danger––!”

Interrupting him was a whistle. A slow quiet whistle in an ominous tune, carried on by the wind which seemed to make it echo throughout the entire area, bouncing off the bones and walls of the rocky terrain and carrying it beyond. Any hyena-folk or a wolfman within close distance would be able to pick up on the whistle with their ears, and those of the clan might be able to decipher its message. Backup needed. Only hyenas, no wolf or lions. Capture guests alive.

The whistling had caused the three unexpected guests to become paralyzed in fear, you could see the hairs on the back of their neck were raised in alarm. First they heard Ruggie, who’s whistling had turned to cackling at their expressions of freight.

You too couldn’t contain your laughter at their pure fear. “Heh, Ruggie, when I said give them a good scare, I didn’t mean to the point of making their souls leave their bodies.”

The hyena shrugged, giggling as he followed you when you stalked closer to the unexpected guests. “Gee, boss, what can I say? It’s not my fault it’s as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

You ignored the other two, and honed in on the kid prince, the protagonist, the hero of the story. Too young to fight back, yet one day he’d be powerful enough to defeat even Leona. “How unexpected to be greeting the son of a king.”

The three had nowhere to run, not when the reinforcements arrived. Soon, they were surrounded by a good number of hyena-folk. One thing you learned about hyena-folk is that they were small and gaunt due to lack of nutrition, but they worked frighteningly well together in groups to defeat much bigger and stronger opponents. As you focused solely on the little prince, you examined his features as he bravely stood in front of his friend. There was a healthy glow in his bronze cheeks, and his hair was unlike his Uncle Leona’s. His short messy locks were thick strands of a bright orange that faded into yellow, and he had big brown eyes that never broke eye contact with you. “Two children and a servant of the king’s. I know exactly who you are.”

The royal attendant interjected, stepping between you and the two lion-kids. “Let them go, chief! We did not mean to step on your land. We will leave immediately!” No matter how he spoke, you could tell he was scared but his tone and the way he stepped back each second when you didn’t stop moving forward, forcing the two younglings behind him to step back as well. Had he been a hornbill bird like in the original tale, his feathers would surely be all ruffled by now. “If you do this, you will start a war with Falena!”

“Hyenas and lions have been at war since anyone can remember.” Removing your knife from its sheath, you gripped its handle in your hand. In its reflection, you could see Ruggie and the other hyena folk appearing fidgety and ready to sink their claws at any given moment, while dread and terror crept onto the faces of the three in front of you. “But with this… I can cause the kingdom a tiny shred of grief, just as they have caused the village a world of pain.” All you wanted to do was knick them, a cut small enough to draw blood, but when you lunged forward, the royal attendant threw the long blue sleeves of his cloak at you, effectively blinding you but only for a moment.

As soon as you lunged, so did the others. Those hyenas closest to you, instantly removed the royal attendant and pinned the squirming man to the ground. When you could finally see again, it revealed you were correct on your guess. The two lions had run, with some of your own chasing behind them until they were led to the underground tunnels. Placing your knife back at your hip, you scowled at the royal attendant now restrained and unable to help those he was tasked to protect. “Keep him there, don’t let him go. The rest of you, after them!��

From where you remained, you could hear and see the hyena-folk running about, in and out of the maze of tunnels. They were small, yes, but the children were smaller, so they’d no doubt get away until they were cornered, just as they did in the original plot. But this was exactly what needed to happen for the plot progress. There was no point in changing the plot now. It was best to change the plot when you could reap the most, and that was not now. It was a loss required to win in the grand scheme of things.

It didn’t take long for the two lion-children to reemerge from a hole in the ground, leading the two to become surrounded. The two huddled together, fearfully scanning the faces of the dozens of hyena-folk that surrounded them.

Three.

The young prince bared his baby fangs, letting out a squeak of a roaring war cry. A pathetic example, probably puny compared to his father. Speaking of which, he should be here soon, judging by how the royal attendant was gone meaning he had somehow escaped the grasp of his hyena captors. That attendant would probably be sending out an alert by now.

Two.

You watched, unimpressed as the hyena-folk present broke out into laughter at the cub’s tiny yeowl, their heightened anxiety only doing more to add to the hyena’s howling cackles. Even Ruggie was doubled over in laughter, but you knew better than to lower your guard right now, especially as a few of the underlings poked and prodded for the little prince to do his war cry once again.

One.

You grabbed Ruggie’s collar and pulled him back just the young prince opened his mouth, and a much powerful louder war cry like a terrifying roar could be heard that echoed in the space all around them. Just in time, you watched as the hyena-folk stepped back in alarm at the sudden noise. Towards the back of the crowd, you could make out the scene of some of your own men and women being flung to the side like rag dolls by a mightier figure. It was clear by just that glimpse, that this was King Falena, and he was stronger than even Prince Leona and former royal guard Jack. You couldn’t watch these people get hurt anymore, so you whistled, instantly signaling your kin to back away as the lionman’s ears perked up at the noise from your direction.

When he rushed forward to stand closer to the two children, you nodded at your kin to step further away, giving him plenty of space and no one within radius to attack. Their brown and black semi-round ears were flattened as they kept their distance, none daring to attack, not that you would make them right now. You felt Ruggie’s hand on your back, he too kept low and didn’t engage.

When the king’s brown-eyed gaze turned to you, it held nothing but pure fury. Now that you were looking at the majestic king of the tales, he really did look like his son, the similarities were uncanny. But King Falena didn’t look anything like his brother, Prince Leona. Falena had bright brown eyes that must’ve been usually filled with kindness whenever his son wasn’t in danger, Leona had watchful green eyes that felt they were judging you with every move you made. Falena had a long warm-colored mane with sand-colored fur on his lion traits, while Leona had a dark mane with dark brown fur on his lion traits. Falena had a stature and was built with an incredible strength that must’ve even greatly surpassed your wolf guard, and while yes Leona had a sure strength himself he was only a few inches shorter than Jack. It really was no wonder Leona had never won the crown through ritual combat. No matter how you saw it, Leona couldn’t beat Falena through a battle of brawn. However, a battle of brains may have a different outcome…

“If you ever come near my son again––”

You stood your ground as he stood close, his face merely inches in front of yours. Behind your back you gripped the dagger in your palm, resisting the urge to plunge the weapon through his eye. Imagine that, if you could give the king a scar matching his disgraced brother. It took everything not to snap back, attack him for all he and his kingdom had done by leaving the hyena-folk to rot. But somehow, you didn’t lunge forward. You only nodded slowly, answering firmly, “No, Falena, never again.” Patient. You needed to be patient this time.

“You’ve been warned, chieftain.” Falena growled before turning around, giving his son one last firm look before silently escorting them through the crowd of hyenas that parted ways for them to take their leave.

Once they were gone, you gazed around, seeing the hyena-folk help the injured and wounded by Falena’s short rampage. Behind you, Ruggie emerged, moving in front of you to do a once over, despite knowing you had barely even touched anyone throughout that entire ordeal. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Perfectly fine…” Just then, your gaze traveled up to the cliffs. High on the top of the rocky terrain, was that familiar lionman, the second prince, gazing down at the scene with a slight frown. When his green eyes flitted over to you, you frowned in turn as a small smile appeared on his face before he promptly disappeared away from sight. “Ruggie, you stay and help the others. I have to have a little talk with our prince friend.”

It didn’t take very long to reach the top of the cliff where you found the second prince lounging in the shade. Leona didn’t spare you a glance, and he didn’t even open his eyes, but you knew he was awake. When his ear slowly flickered, he sighed, “Why didn’t you kill them?” When you blinked, his eyes were open, those green orbs gazing at you intently. “You had the perfect opportunity. Yet you hesitated.”

Begrudgingly, you sat down across from him, frowning at his lazy form. “Because I know you have a better plan. A plan that will get rid of both Falena and his son.”

A sly grin made itself visible on the curve of his lips, and you felt that you made a mistake before the words even left his lips. “I never once told you that, or anybody about that.” Shit. Sitting up before pushing himself up to his feet, he slowly began to circle you as he mused, “You know, you always seem to know what’s going to happen, before it happens. Somehow, you were able to get this far without any of your clan noticing you aren’t the true chief. You’re always looking at me with this wise-ass look, like you’re so proud that you can predict what comes next. When we first met, for a brief second there was a look of… disbelief on your face when you kept staring at me. After pondering on the possibilities after our last meeting, I think I figured you out. It sounds insane, but then again, I’m not completely sane if you haven’t noticed by now. But you aren’t even from this world, are you? You had this foreign scent on you when we met, it was something I couldn’t name even if I tried, but now all you smell like is hyena. Then I looked into it. I went down to the kingdom’s marketplace, I even contracted merchants to bring me sweet-smelling products from all around the world. But nothing matched that scent you had on the first day, nothing at all. At least… nothing in this world.”

You went still as he stopped pacing, and opted to plop close down beside you. Incredibly close, so much that his arm that propped up half his upper weight was against your arm. You could feel his warmth, but his close proximity made you squirm in place. You didn’t move an inch though, because even scooting over an inch would be giving him a sign that you would bend to his will.

As he leaned against you, you glared at his amused expression. That cocky smirk was on his lips, because he knew he had you in his claws. When he spoke, he was so close that he only had to speak in a low and husky whisper. “This time, I brought a proposal instead of an offering. But I want to hear you tell me what it is I’m planning.”

You were silent.

“Well?”

Under the pressure, you finally relented. “Fine. But only if you answer one question I have.”

It only took a second of consideration until he hummed, “Of course. That’s only fair, chieftain.”

Taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes away from intense green-eyed gaze, attempting to forget the fact that his face was literally inches beside yours. There was no point in hiding it from him anymore, was there? He already knew everything. “My guess is that you’ll want to do it in the gorge. You’ll have myself and some of the other hyenas start a panic with wild wildebeest grazing on the grass. There’ll be a stampede, and you’ll have the little prince down there waiting. When his old man goes to save him, you’re hoping he and the prince get crushed by the stampede. If not, at least it’ll weaken them enough to finish off quietly and stage it as an accident.” When you glanced at him, you could see his grin had grown. “Did I get all that right?”

“Everything down to the smallest minute detail.” He chuckled, somehow finding this tense exchange amusing. His tail swished slowly side to side, and you couldn’t help but notice how pleased he looked with himself. “Now, your question.”

You paused, carefully considering how to go about wording this specific inquiry. All the while he continued to watch you, never once taking his eyes off you. Until finally, you had it. “Why’ve you kept me alive? If you knew I wasn’t who I said I was, you could’ve told the hyena-folk by now. You would’ve been a trustworthy figure then, at least in their eyes. They’d follow you, just like you want. You never needed my help. Besides, if you knew I knew stuff about the future, wouldn’t that mean I was a threat to your plan?”

“You see me for the wonder I am.” Noticing your confusion, he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to be the second born, when your entire kingdom scorns you just because you were born a few years late. But now…” He chuckled, holding your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye. “With meticulous planning and suffering through years of denial, I’ll become King. I’ll get everything I ever deserved and more. And should you help me achieve my vision, I promise you, you will do more than just survive. You shall thrive. But without me, you won’t get a thing… If it's agreed, shall we go then? Let’s inform your beloved little village of the coup of the century that will take place tomorrow.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

To say the clan rejoiced at the news felt like an understatement. They were elated, it led to partying and laughing all night, all of them eager to follow your command and the second prince’s plan if it meant that they could finally improve their way of living. Even Jack, who you thought you might have to deal with his refusal due to his strong morals and all, only silently listened to the declaration by Leona before approaching you and announcing he’d follow what you decided.

It wasn’t much of a choice anyways. You’d get to survive and live in splendor, and you’d improve the lives of so many hyena-folk that may have later died of sickness or starvation, all in exchange for the life of a king and his son. When the day arrived, you sent out the able-bodied hyena-folk to prepare. Burn the wild wall of thorns between the cliffs and the desert, have a few posted at every potential escape route, place watchouts on top of high cliffs so they could see everything, and above all was the warning from you to the clan. Do not let the young prince escape, because if he does, then hope for the lion-folk will live on and he may one day grow to be as powerful as his father.

When everything was prepared, you waited. You had assembled a small team to rile up the wildebeest, which consisted of yourself, Ruggie, Jack, and two other small groups of three hyena-folk currently positioned on other sides. You would frighten the creatures simultaneously, flanking from the back, the right, and the left, forcing the gigantic horde to go down into the gorge where they’d create a deadly stampede, trampling anything in their path.

Jack gazed at you silently, before he murmured quietly, as if to himself, “Is it alright to really be doing this…? To kill the king and the prince? I know you said it was, and I trust you, but…”

“Jack, you’re way too soft. It’s an eat or be eaten world! If you’re so worried about it, think about it this way. Those two lives will allow countless hyenas and outcasts like me and you to survive.” Ruggie scolded, watching as the white wolf slowly nodded. While waiting for the signal, he glanced at the wildebeest grazing on the grass before looking at you. “You know, I knew you were ruthless, boss, but going along with Leona’s despicable plan? I mean, not that I’m opposed to it, but it was surprising at first, is all.”

“I do whatever I have to for…” Me. “You and the others.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure on an opposing cliff. It was Leona, who was staring you down with a devious sort of smile. He must’ve already left his kid nephew down in the gorge. Quick to change the subject, you announced, “There. Let’s go. Jack, signal to the others.”

Obediently he fulfilled his command, standing upright from his spot leaning against the boulders and rocks they hid among. When he whistled, it rang in the air, immediately alerting not only your allies on the other side of the herd but also the wildebeest that shot up in alert.

It took one stone from you, a stone tossed at full speed, smacking the hind leg of one of the closer wildebeest, causing it to let out a deep pained noise and instinctively react by kicking about wildly, causing a chain reaction of confusion and alarm to those around it, which only spread further and further. Jack’s whistle was the sign to attack, and having already made the first move, you stood back as you watched Ruggie, Jack, and the two other hyena groups jump out of their hiding places and cause even more of a panic throughout the entire herd as they scared the beasts with their spears and knives.

You watched as the wildebeest began to scatter in the opposite direction of yourself and the clan members, leading them right into the gorge. They moved as a group. One thing about wildebeest, is that they traveled in herds with numbers ranging anywhere from a few hundred to a couple of thousands. They were so numerous and sizable creatures that caused the ground to shake when startled and running. It would be very very difficult to survive a stampede of such magnitude, maybe that’s why Leona chose such a demise in the first place.

When all of the wildebeest had been chased off the flat and into the gorge, you stood beside your subordinates and paced at the edge. Ruggie and the others looked excited, almost as if they were having fun, especially because they managed to catch and kill one of the straggling creatures. Jack looked down at the gorge, frowning but doing nothing else until he inquired, “What next, boss?”

You couldn’t be at ease until you knew that both King Falena and his prince son were dead. You didn’t want to imagine the prince getting away, which would lead you to years of sleepless nights as you would have to plot a way on how to track him down through the desert and send people to kill him. “Good job, everyone. Now, go out to individual posts along the desert. Make sure the entire perimeter is covered. The king and the prince cannot leave that gorge alive, got it?”

A chorus of hums and giggles responded, “Yes, chief.”

Once they all departed and you were alone, you slid down about halfway into the gorge. You weren’t on the ground floor, so you weren’t concerned, but for now to avoid being seen, you would keep behind boulders and rocks to blend into the environment. At this point in the story, the second prince would feign horror as he goes to inform the majestic king of the stampede occurring with the young prince trapped within the gorge. The two brothers would rush to the gorge to save the young prince. For now all you could do was follow the cloud of dust and stragglers the stampede left behind, keeping low and against the wall so you would not be spotted.

The gorge was massive, so you continued for a few minutes, all the while reciting the rest of the story from your childhood in a low mutter. “When Falena and Leona get there, they see the kid prince hanging onto a branch during the stampede. Falena jumps in to save his son, dodging almost every hit by the wildebeest. As he’s right next to the branch, he’s hit, knocked down and the branch breaks. Before the kid prince can fall to his death, his dear old dad jumps and catches him. When he lands, Falena is hit again, dropping his son. Falena manages to get up and pick up his kid, putting him on a ledge right before he’s swept away in the stampede. The prince watches in horror, looking for his dad, until he sees Falena jump out and cling to the steep wall of the gorge. He struggles to climb up, obviously weak from being hit before, but he reaches the top and there at the top… is Leona.”

Leona. There was Leona across the gorge standing upright and looking down at the figure beneath him as if they were nothing but a speck of dirt on his feet. Just below him, nails dug into the rocky walls and slipping, was King Falena. You couldn’t hear what they were saying over the thousands of hooves stomping against the ground, but you didn’t have to hear a word in order to know what was going on. This was the moment where the majestic king died. In an instant, Leona lunged forward slightly, digging his nails into the flesh on the back of the king’s palm, which caused him to emit a roar of pain. You knew what came next. You averted your gaze to the side as you heard his plummeting scream, and then it was silenced, drowned out by the continuous running wildebeest. Long live the king.

One down, one more to go. The cloud of dust left behind in the stampede’s destructive wake, concealed the bottom of the gorge from your sight. You need to get down there now. You needed to see Falena dead with your own two eyes, and you needed to make sure that the kid prince he left behind would not live to see tomorrow. Upon finding your way in the dust, you squint to see past the sandy clouds, and one of the first things you could make out upon searching the ground was the king’s motionless body on its side right under the broken branch. Yet neither of the princes were anywhere in sight.

Continuing forward, you felt your nerves spike. That kid prince must have ran–– and you could only hope the story would truly divert from its original course here and now. You could only pray to whatever cruel god there was that allowed you to be thrown into this world, that all your preparations worked to stop the runaway prince.

When you heard a footstep, you froze, hand hovering over the dagger at your hip as the approaching shadow in the cloud of dust got closer and closer. However, when it was revealed to be Leona from the ashes, your shoulders slumped, relieved of the tension. No breath of relief, because you could not be relieved when knowing that the job was not done yet. However, that tension immediately went straight back into your system when you noticed the red on his hands. By now he had already noticed you, he probably was aware of your presence far before you were aware of his. Hesitantly you gestured to the blood on his hands. “What’s that from…?”

“A finished job. It’s not mine.” He answered with an ominous smirk. Steadily he stepped closer, before announcing in a melodramatic tone, “My brother’s death is a terrible tragedy, but to lose my nephew who was swept away in the stampede and whose body was never found… For me, it’s a deep and personal loss.” No longer could he hold in his laughter as he stood right in front of you and concluded, “So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise!”

You frowned, prying your eyes away from his hands and to his face full of wicked mirth. “And the body?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes but answered in a slight chuckle, “I knew you’d worry about that. So I had your clan dispose of the body, in the desert where no one will find him and his remains will be plucked by the vultures.”

At that moment you froze, eyes going wide. That… That might have been the fate that would have awaited you…

When he stepped closer, so close that you were practically up against his chest. You winced when he tapped the bottom of your chin until you looked up at him, painting the bottom half of your face red with the blood smeared on his fingers. Blood that was not his, whether it belonged to the king or his son, you weren’t entirely sure, and you’d rather not know. “That won’t happen to you, I wouldn’t let it happen.” He spoke, as if he sensed your current fears. Just then, another delighted smirk grew on his face and that familiar spark of desire reignited in his eyes. He had the throne, the kingdom, what else did he want? What else could he possibly gain? “I promised you that you’d thrive, didn’t I? Well, now that the throne belongs to me, I’ll make good on that promise. Your reward is the opportunity to be my royal consort.”

Your stomach dropped, feeling dread settle in the pits of your gut as his thumb moved to rub small circles on your cheek, covering you in more red. Only a small choked whisper could escape your throat. “What?”

“Be my consort.” He repeated casually, looking down at your stunned expression with amusement that made him chortle. “What better way to unite two, lion-folk and hyena-folk, then by matrimony between two leaders? You get a life of splendor and continue to hold power, while I reign as king with you by my side. It’s like… killing two lions with one stone, isn’t that right, my Little Chieftain?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #jack howl #twst jack #yandere jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #yandere ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #twst leona #yandere leona kingscholar #Savanaclaw #damnation twst au

2K notes · View notes

adnauseum11 · 2 months

Text

Listening Post (John Price x Reader)

John goes M.I.A, and all is not as it seems at first.

900 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

You’re starting to get worried. It’s out of character for John to ignore you. Even when he was still on active duty, he would tell you if he was going to be in the field. He’d never compromise himself with any details but he’d at least let you know he was away. And he always let you know when he was back on grid, his simple ‘back here’ text enough to reassure you that he had made it home once again. You stand in your kitchen, gnawing a thumbnail and obsessively looking at your phone.

He wasn’t in the field any more, and he shouldn't be away, you had plans to do Trivia Thursday night this week at the pub. He would have told you if he had left town. If you weren’t dating the wretched man, you would send him a text about being a miserable bastard and try him again the next day to see if his mood had improved.

You scroll back in your texts, checking the timestamps. He’s never let a text go unanswered all day before. What kind of trouble could an ex-SAS Captain possibly get in to? He can take care of himself. Surely, he’s fine. He’s been in his share of fights. If the cops had picked him up for something, you would have got wind of it, you’re certain. You’re trying to convince yourself to remain calm, annoyingly something that’s normally John’s job between the two of you.

You realize you’re going to spend the evening standing in the kitchen, agonizing in silence, so you resolve to sort the situation out one way or another. You pull on your jacket, thumbing through your phone to a ride share app. You find yourself in front of John’s flat less than 20 minutes later. His car is there, and instead of making you feel better you get a sinking sensation in your stomach. At least if he was away, you could tell yourself he was busy. Now it looks like he’s just dodging you.

You let yourself in using the key he gave you years ago, knocking gently and calling for him. Nothing. No signs of life in the kitchen or living room. His neat flat looks immaculate. You’re heading down the hall when you hear low groaning. A flame of anger licks at your belly and you have to keep yourself from stomping the rest of the way down the hall.

If he’s cheating on you before you’ve even had sex, you’re going to string him up by his balls. If you have to pay to find someone who knows how to do that, you will. It will be worth it –

By the time you clear the doorway, you’ve convinced yourself of what you’re going to find. Even brace for it, your face screwed up into a wince. So, when it’s just John, sweating buckets and groaning in pain in the middle of his bed it takes you a full ten seconds to reboot your brain.

“What’s wrong?” You’re leaning over him, not bothering with pleasantries or admonishments now, running your hands over his face and chest with anxious movements. You’re instinctively looking for a wound of some sort before you can process your own actions. He squints at you, grabbing your hands and covering his eyes with your palms, curling towards you.

“My fucking head. Holy shit.” His voice is like gravel, and you wonder how long he’s been like this if he’s openly admitting to what ails him. You’re crawling into the bed, moving on autopilot despite never having seen him like this. John’s misery does not like company, thanks very much. But it seems those old rules of engagement for you both are shifting. You’re pillowing his head on your thighs, curling over him protectively and making sympathetic noises softly. As relieved as you are he’s not up to anything nefarious, guilt at it being a thought at all is hot on its heels.

“A migraine?”

He confirms with the tiniest tilt of his head, pressing his cheek into your thigh while you gently cup his forehead. He’s burning hot, sweaty to the touch. You’re stroking a palm over his hair slowly, easing him off your lap so you can run around his flat, gathering anything you can think of that might help - ice water in a bowl with a facecloth, a bottle of water, fruit from the bowl in his kitchen. He’s groaning again by the time you get back and arrange everything on his bedside table.

You spend the rest of the night playing nurse, finally able to get more information out of the miserable man on what might make him feel better. The cool cloth helps, as does the darkness and gently stroking his scalp. You’re able to get him to lightly doze after a few hours of concentrated efforts. Grateful for the small stash of clothes and essentials John insisted you bring over a few days prior, you keep one eye on your sleeping patient while you change into pajamas. The thought of leaving him alone like this makes your stomach drop and your skin crawl, as does the slow realization he’s likely been dealing with these episodes alone for some time.

You manage to crawl back into bed without disturbing him, resuming your slow stroking passes over his scalp. Your insides are wobbling dangerously, like you might fall into a heaving cry at any moment. You’re supremely grateful when exhaustion takes over, silencing any and all thoughts.

Next Chapter

#fanfic #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #call of duty #captain john price #john price cod #john price #friends to lovers

205 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for not wanting to play DnD with a teenager?

So I (22F) am in college and after classes I like to play DnD with four of my friends, Ricky (21M), Tara (21F) Lola (22F) and Julie (20F)

Well recently Tara's little sister Ashley (15F) has been hanging out at Tara's apartment, where we usually have our game sessions, after school. Like for about two weeks now. Tara says its because her mother got a new job and doesnt get off work until 7pm so Ashley stays at the apartment from 4pm till about 7:30pm when her mother comes to pick her up.

4 pm is when our game sessions start most of the time (depending on if any of us have night classes that day or not) which means we now have a literal child watching us play. And because of that Tara has asked that we tone down the game sessions to be more "appropriate" and we also cant get drunk until Ashley leaves (which is stupid because Julie is under 21 and we can drink around her just fine but whatever) frankly I didnt mind the constant audience since Ashley was far more interested in watching us play than watching TV or playing on Tara's switch.

Well apparently just watching wasnt good enough for the brat because when i got to Tara's apartment for a game, Ashley was sitting at our table, excitedly filling out a character sheet while chattering nonstop with Ricky and Lola (Julie wasn't coming this time she had the stomach flu)

I naturally asked what she was doing because she normally just watched. Ashley gave me a confused look and said that she was joining our game like we had apparently talked about in our groupchat the night prior. Ricky and Lola both backed her up and showed the groupchat.

I had seen the messages but I thought Tara was joking about adding a literal child that doesnt even have a learners permit to our game that we had been continuing for three months now. I naturally went to go confront Tara.

She said that I agreed to let Ashley join in and if I didn't want to play with her I could've just not come.

Is she fucking serious?

What kind of sane person would want to play with a literal child and its edgy as fuck character (like the character was a wolf necromancer dressed in all black with two random scars across its chest. You could smell the hot topic radiating from this cringefest)

Tara refused to listen to reason and instead insisted that Ashley can play just for tonight and if i didnt like it I could leave.

I had no choice to stay and play

It was so fucking miserable.

The brat was constantly making stupid mistakes and dragging the whole party down with her. We constantly had to stop so Ricky (our DM) could explain things that should've been obvious because Ashley was too stupid to actually figure it out. My character was having to bail her's out near constantly. It was getting to the point where I just wanted to legitimately slap Ashley. I didnt because Tara would absolutely murder me but oh the temptation was strong.

And the worst part? I was the only one who seemed to be upset that our game was being completely thrown off course. Ricky, Lola and Tara took all of Ashley's many many fuck ups in stride and actually seemed to be enjoying it.

I have no idea why, that game was a train wreck

After an hour of hell Ricky called it quits for the day.

Which was weird because we usually go well into the night most of the time. Once the game was over Tara grabbed me by the arm and led me to the kitchen.

She asked me what the hell my problem was because it was apparently MY fault the game went so poorly and not the literal child's.

So I let her have it.

I told her it was a stupid idea to let her dumbass sister play with us, that Ashley shouldnt be playing with adults and its stupid to expect us to bow to the whims of a fifteen year old. I told her I never wanted to play with stupid bitch ass of a sister ever again.

I left the apartment after that.

This morning I was removed from the groupchat and all my friends have blocked me

Except for Lola, who has been going off on me in dms all day, calling me a horrible person, transphobic, a bully and a bitch. Every name in the book. None of them are talking to me and Julie, who wasn't even there keeps calling me an asshole and says i should apologize

AITA? I dont think i did anything wrong but everyone else thinks I did

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

384 notes · View notes

sethsclearwater · 4 months

Note

hey i have a request!

so in sm fics the reader is always cuddled in between the boys and i love it its so cute but i cant help but imagine how unbearably hot it would be being in between both of them so could i request a silly fluffy blurb of the reader cuddling with paul and seth and she’s sweating because its so hot so she tries to get away from them and they are so offended and she’s giggling and they like playfully attack her and force her to lay with them

so cutie lol!

...

"fuck me," you whined, quickly sitting up when you realized just how hot you were getting from laying inbetween not one, but two boys who ran temperatures of a steady 108 degrees on a good day. today though, it felt like they were literally furnaces and you absolutely despised feeling hot and sticky.

you reached over seth to grab your hydroflask, taking multiple rather large gulps of water before deciding you had cooled off enough, "you're so dramatic, you know that?" paul asked, still sprawled out on the bed with your other imprinter on the other side of you, both looking rather disgruntled by the fact that you'd sat up while they were trying to cuddle with you.

you took one final sip before turning to glare at paul, "i literally feel like i'm in a sauna. it's way too hot down there," you admitted, shuddering at the thought of having to be that hot again the second you laid back down in between the two boys.

seth cracked a smile at your dramatic shudder, taking your hydroflask from you so he could set it back down on the table next to the bed while you and paul continued your theatrical bickering.

"you weren't whining about that last night when i was-" paul began but you were quick to cut him off with a loud gasp, playfully smacking his sweatpant clad thigh to show your disapproval of the lewd comment you guessed was about to come out of his mouth.

"paul lahote!" you laughed, "that was different and you know it!" you exclaimed, all three of you laughing at your miserable attempt to defend yourself against paul's (very sexual but albeit true) allegations.

paul rolled his eyes, a casual smirk on his face and one arm bent to rest a hand behind his head as he watched the way your cheeks turned a bright pink over your embarrassment, "seth tell him-" you attempted to get your other boyfriend to jump in to aid in your defense before paul could make another comment about you ogling his shirtless body.

seth just let out a breathy laugh, "pretty girl," the pet name rolled off his tongue so easily and you couldn't seem to contain the way your stomach erupted into butterflies over it, both seth and paul knowing all too well just how flustered they could easily make you, "why don't you lay back down and i'll turn the fan on, yea?" he suggested and paul didn't seem to take too kindly to seth's gentle tone, instead just grabbing you by your hips and manhandling you back down into the bed.

you were laughing, playfully pushing paul's hands off your hips which had him just wrapping his beefy arms around you to hold you tight against his chest. before the two of you could get too into it, you felt some much needed reprieve as the cool air from the fan hit your skin, "better?" seth asked as he got back into bed with you and paul, rolling over so he could spoon you and press a gentle kiss to your neck.

you hummed and nodded, peeking over your shoulder to smile at him, "much better," you reassured, pecking his lips before turning back to paul to do the same for him.

332 notes · View notes

satcrvz · 3 months

Text

no think.. just video games w megumi :p

also im so guilty. brothers bsf trope RUNS my mind.. i haven’t like actually written in a hot minute so not too much guys… would you believe me that i had this idea for hanma about a year ago?

cw: gn!reader but you dance as the girl in promiscuous, you're yuujis sibling, teenie make out but not really? it doesn't happen lol

"wait megs we should play just dance" you say all while you try to plug the hdmi cord in, but continuously fail miserably.

he speaks up, half excuse, half truth, "i'm not uh, a big dancer"

"it'll be fun!" suddenly you feel megumi come in beside you, practically nudging you out the way to hook up the console himself. you stand there with crossed arms with an eyebrow cocked waiting for him to turn back towards you. "you know i could've done that myself?" there's a hint of sass in your voice.

"clearly not", it comes out as a breathy laugh, an obvious smirk of amusement planted on his face

"okay fushiguro whatever. . don't say anything if the controller coincidentally flies straight out my hand into your head"

"hey are you gonna kill me if i put on promiscuous..?" your legs are pointed towards the tv but your torso is turned to face megumi, on your right.

he sets the controller down and rolls up his sleeves, "i wont. but if you ever suggest a horrible song, i might"

"fair enough!"

the song begins, and megumi has an obviously late start, considering hes never played this song on the game before.

"baby you're gonna fucking hit me slide behind me instead of front next time" there's another smirk on his face, part of him is focused on the dance and the other half is fawning over how serious you're almost taking this. obviously you two aren't the best dancers, but hey its fun right?

eventually the song gets near the end and both of you just kinda zone out at the end giving each other an there's no way we're doing that look.

"so!" you clap your hands together holding them in one spot "what'd you think?" you take the pause before his answer to really admire his features, his hair was slightly disheveled with little hairs sticking to his forehead.

"it was.. fun. i actually enjoyed it, unlike the other times yuuji and nobara put on rasputin. and i like spending time with you." his words really made you realize how close you were to him. how close had i really gotten to him since the song ended?

suddenly you both find your hands around each other, his resting on your waist and yours around his neck. its like you guys were — no somethings not right… my yuuji senses are tingling..

"you played without me???!" yuuji practically bursts into the living room screaming. "wait. don't tell me you guys were about to make out." he brings his left hand up to run down the side of his face. during his outburst you and megumi had pretty much moved half an arms length away from each other, both of you clearly embarrassed by your brothers entrance.

"seriously do not tell me. im going to leave for like, 5 minutes and pretend this didnt happen." he continues, "fushiguro, sleep with one eye open dude"

after yuuji leaves the two of you can't help but burst out laughing. next time, you'll be sure not to let yuuji catch you playing just dance without him, or let him catch you about to make out with his best friend, technically, your boyfriend.

#✧; satcrvz writes!#jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #✧; satcrvz

290 notes · View notes

possumteeths · 4 months

Text

Like a Rotten Dog

Baldurs Gate 3, Rolan x Reader, Rolan x Human!Tav (Second person nondescript femme insert) 5,800 words, Porn with feelings, Rated E. Rolan POV. My works will never use the Y/N device.

Summary:

Rolan miserably fucks a pillow while thinking big thoughts. He thinks about how obnoxious you are and how it's completely unfair that you've forced him into such a state. Unfortunately for him, his train of thought betrays his determination to hate you. "What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon." "Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location."

Fic & tags under the cut or on ao3!

Tags:

He should’ve known that you would arrive at Sorcerous Sundries sooner rather than later.

Regarding Rolan’s well-being, you were like a bloodhound to his discomfort. You were always exactly where you needed to be, which was often exactly where he wished you’d keep far, far away from. With the sense of incoming doom in Baldur's Gate, he should’ve assumed you’d be hot on its trail and he was soon to run into you eventually.

Still, he wished you could’ve reunited under more pleasant circumstances. Your face lit up in recognition once you saw him behind the counter, only for your expression to morph through the motions of shock and anger before settling on disgusting concern. It was the concern that burned him, the bruise under his eye flared up like a fleshly bleeding wound and Rolan did everything in his power to keep his head held high. He didn’t need your help and he certainly did not need your pity. The very concept of pity coated his throat with the acidic taste of bile.

You had no right to swoop into his life and save him from his failures time and time again. For once, he wanted to fix his own problems. Lorroakan was a… difficult man, but a learned one. Rolan thought that if he could just toughen up and learn all that he could, perhaps he’d finally be free of your meddling. Perhaps he’d finally be able to sleep at night, unafraid of being an utter failure. Didn’t he owe that to his family? To himself? If he could just be better— a better man, a better wizard, then he could defend himself for once. He wouldn’t need you and your concern. He wouldn’t feel inadequate or unsure of himself ever again. If he could be a better version of himself, then he would be able to look you in the eye without all the shame that came with it.

How was it possible that you managed to look so good while he knew that you spent your days out there fighting and surviving by the skin of your teeth? All he’d done since reaching the city was bow his head and allow his master to use him as an outlet for his temper. He felt like a whipped dog who’d done nothing wrong besides give his utmost obedience and you looked like hope incarnate. Your pity felt like freedom although it burned like shame. By the time you left the shop, Rolan firsthand witnessed the steady growth of determination swell beneath your skin and he knew that you were soon to do something that left him no choice but to thank you for his life again.

At this point, there weren’t enough words in any language to voice the gratitude you were owed. The crumbs of respect that Rolan begrudgingly handed to you were too much and not enough. So far, the only recent decision he’d made for himself left his ego and body badly bruised. Sure, he’d taken charge of Zevlor’s incompetence and got as many people as he could to safety— but if saving the refugees were up to you, no one would’ve been left behind. Perhaps his siblings might not have been taken in the first place.

The creaky door to Rolan’s meager living quarters feels heavier than normal as he defeatedly pushes it open. All his confidence and what he used to think was talent awarded him the finery of a single room and splintery floorboards. He heads for a mostly empty red bottle atop a shelf and downs the last few dregs of it, hoping the potion might soothe some general aches and pains if it wasn’t enough to heal any of them. Earlier, you’d purchased as many health potions as the shop had in store, traded three magical amulets for an extremely powerful scroll, and tipped him for the trouble of bringing you everything you purchased. Throwing gold at him, you had the audacity to ask if he was alright with a tinge of fury in your tone. Gods he hated you at that moment. He was doing what he had to for survival. Because of him, his family had a roof over their heads. What was the cost of a few arbitrary wounds for the price of safety? What would you know about something like that?

Immediately, the thought is shut down by guilt and fresh anger has him slamming the empty potion bottle down. The rickety shelf rattles, but there’s no one around to witness his frustration. Right now, he can’t bear the idea of his siblings seeing the state of himself. Heavy feet drag him to a mirror and Rolan concludes that he doesn’t look awful, the wounds he wore were trophies that displayed his dedication to magic. Ugly to only the ignorant. No one but him could understand that. His siblings didn’t care to listen to reason, and Rolan didn’t need to ask his sister to know she was conspiring to do something about his problem— only she didn’t hold a candle to your ridiculous tenacity.

What are you to do now? Storm Ramazith’s tower atop a glittering pegasus? Perhaps you’ll declare him a poor maiden in need of a hero and expect him to swoon and fall at your feet? Should he kiss you for luck as well? Give you a handkerchief? For all the painful obedience he’s given to Lorroakan, it would be a simple thing to give it to you instead, wouldn’t it? What would you ask of him in exchange for your help? So far you’ve asked for nothing, (not that he would’ve given you anything besides a pinched declaration of thanks) but surely his bill is due soon. Surely you’ll come to collect since you’re so adept at finding him no matter his location.

A fresh wave of outrage guides him away from self-depreciation, but it comes with a delicate aftertaste of something new. You asked him why he was so rude to you back in the grove, —the conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago— and Rolan haughtily remembers your displeasure in his lack of reverence. At least that’s how he chose to interpret your question. Unbeknownst to you, he had the makings of greatness in him too. You were just a stranger to him, a mere moment in his soon-to-be great story. One day he’d be a powerful and renowned spellcaster and you’d likely be a statue or a painting, felled in battle and remembered by few. Your meddling was only delaying the inevitable. You were keeping him from his destiny and you were upset with him for refusing to inflate your ego? Did you expect him to look at you like a wide-eyed pup, stars in his eyes in the shadow of your glory?

If he was less of a man, Rolan would’ve picked up a pillow and screamed into it. You’ve tainted the distaste he has for you and because of this, guilt-laced shame makes his stomach twist. A healing blister on his side reminds him that he’s a coward, he’s too stubborn for his own good and a tiny part of his pride rolled over on its back, belly up, tail wagging when he set eyes on you this morning. Even now, his tail flicks behind him in the way it does when he thinks of you. Rolan couldn’t find it in him to ask how you were faring, but now he regrets his clipped words and the demand for you to leave him and his problems alone. You weren’t going to listen to his plea anyhow, so why waste the words? He should’ve swallowed his attitude and spoken to you as a friend.

But— there lies the problem.

Rolan doesn’t have friends. He never felt the need for anyone's company besides his siblings. He’s bookish, too busy with his studies and his magic to go out of his way to socialize with anyone. Why would he? No one ever wants to talk with him, and when he finds himself forced into a conversation he’s overly aware of the humor that people find in him. No one respects him. Cal and Lia keep him company because they have to, and they’re all the support he needs. He doesn’t know the first thing about friendliness or pleasantry and he doesn’t care to learn.

After you wiped out the goblin camp and set his people toward hopeful safety, his sister told him to seek you out at your party— but you ended up coming to him instead. Caught off guard, all he could do was lamely conjure a few dancing lights for your entertainment and he wasn’t able to hold the spell for very long. His tongue felt as if it had become furred, he couldn’t remember what exactly he’d said to you but he did remember his sister’s horrified expression in response. She thinks he’s harboring feelings toward you, and he supposes her assumption is half correct. He has a lot of feelings pertaining to you but none of them were sweet and soft.

It didn’t matter anyhow. By all accounts, he should despise you (and perhaps he does), but the way he feels is overly complicated and tightly wound. Why do you dress the way you do? Why do you smell so pleasant? Caked in mud and splattered with gore, you manage to wear it all stylishly. Why do you care about everything as much as you do? Where do you find the motivation to put one foot in front of the other and carry on? Aren’t you tired? Every time you’ve sought him out, you ask if he’s alright before immediately offering your aid. You try to speak with him, you’ll ask him about his siblings out of politeness, but he always shuts you down like an idiot addicted to the taste of his boot wedged between his teeth. Everything you are rubs abrasively against everything he tries to be. His confidence is always received poorly while yours shines obtrusively enough that people are forced to love the way it blinds them.

You’ve done your best to put Rolan into a daze as well, but his determination to dislike you has become a core tenant of his personality. You deserve his thanks, you deserve his respect. You have every right to force him to kneel and then command for him to kiss your boots. The only thing you’d have to do for such worship would be to demand it. You could take it from him just as Master Lorroakan does. But you won't. The confusing, awful way he feels toward you would be so much easier to compartmentalize if you were cruel. He wishes disgust would replace your pity, that way it would be easier to justifiably hate you. If he could imagine you laughing at him, calling him pathetic, and exposing him for the coward he is, then he wouldn’t be rushing for his bed, hands already working at his robes to find the ties that hold his breeches at his hips.

This world is cruel and the animal law of predator against prey is just as prominent as it is amongst beasts. He’s survived thus far because of you and now he bows for false promises, willfully misleading himself into thinking that he’s anything besides a whipping boy. The punishment bruised and burned into him is deserved. For all that he’s given in exchange, he thinks that he’s gotten off easily if anything. Certain laws of nature shouldn’t be broken and he should not have gotten to this point by cheating his way along instead of taking the hits that came with his repeated failures. What pact has he declared in exchange for your patronage? What are the stipulations he’s agreed to? You’re not winged but you’re radiant just the same. Perhaps the obnoxiously attractive body you wear is an illusion, perhaps you’re a devil who followed him from Elturel with the sheer intent of ruining his life.

Caged and afraid, desperate to be anything besides what he is, you’ve rendered him into a broken thing. A broken thing whose throat is dry, whose hand shakes as he miserably gropes the swollen length of his cock. A stubborn part of his psyche still thinks he’s a man, you’re a pretty face and the closest thing to a friend that he’s aware of. Of course, you make him hard. There’s no shame to be found in a natural reaction to someone whose attention wanders back to him like a pet with a penchant for running away. In the quiet moments of whatever respite he’s able to steal for himself, Rolan’s wandering mind often breaches a handful of thoughts that he’s determined to keep under lock and key. If he lets his mind dash away from reason, sometimes he thinks about touching you, he wonders what you’d feel like if you were wet and wanting.

Weeks ago, while flipping through a book on anatomy from the tower’s library, he paused on a few figure drawings of a naked human woman. He dared to look at her breasts and the shape of her hips in a rather unstudious manner and his composure unraveled from there. He’s never wanted to dwell on things he finds unnecessary; women and all the struggle that came before sex felt like too much of a headache to pursue. Rolan’s seen what fools it makes of people, he’s seen more people than he cares to think about who are horns deep in grief after losing someone they loved. Keeping himself safe from such matters felt like the smartest thing he could do, he didn’t wish to expend time or effort to pursue anything with anyone. So… he didn’t feel like a pervert for utilizing the anatomical drawing of a woman’s body for masturbatory purposes. If he wouldn’t pursue anything real, this seemed more efficient than wasting his time daydreaming about physical touch and a certain someone’s attention. With one hand on the book and the other wrapped around his cock, he quickly worked himself to completion and that was that.

Unfortunately, the release didn’t bring him any pleasure. His orgasm only felt like a momentary distraction from the angry thing he’d awoken. Now he blindly seeks a sense of relief that he can’t seem to get his hands on because he doesn’t know what he’s searching for. For days, he thought about the damned book and the terms for various parts of a woman’s anatomy. He thought about their function and how it was more than likely that a woman could find herself in the exact predicament he was trapped in. Task after nonsensical task was performed for Lorroakan and all he could think about was the book hidden beneath its proper shelf and the way he wished he could somehow enchant it so the diagrams would be in color.

After a particularly brutal “lesson” that involved his naked back and a shock of lightning, he stole away to find his recent obsession. While lost in his thoughts, eyes tightly shut and a desperate fist working himself over, he proceeded to ruin the book with an errant splatter of his release. Once the first rope stained the pages, he didn’t care to lessen the blow. He was bitter with his master, bitter with his newfound curiosity that only grew in size. The hunger crept into him only because of weakness— He was a failure in too many ways and so Rolan felt justified in coating the diagrams with everything he had. Shame was far from him when he closed the soaked book to shelve it back into place.

That should’ve been the end of things, he wished more than anything to smother the awful birth of late blooming desire but the damned thing refused to simmer down and die. You kept that from happening. You left him with no choice but to use the promise of self-release as a coping mechanism. He’s always been an impetuous ass and he’s never felt the need to find any distaste in accepting the fact. He’s impulsive but Rolan felt he was too smart to asphyxiate on any lasting consequences. Rubbing himself raw was a byproduct of everything else wrong in his life. Why should he worry about consequences when you’ll be there to save him from whatever circumstance? He wanted to drink himself to death in Last Light Inn, but you wouldn’t let him. So he ran headfirst into the shadows, figuring that he’d either save his siblings or die trying and you apparated from the darkness to rob him of the martyrdom he aimed for. You took everything from him, smothered his pride, and strangled his ego as if his wants and needs meant nothing to you. You’re in his head, you’ve stolen all of his impulsivity and alchemically perverted it so that it all revolves around you.

And he can't hate you for it because you’ve destroyed his previous definition of hate.

He can’t drink in self-pity because he thinks of you and the disappointment on your features when you found him completely pissed and slurring his words. You told those little devils to stop serving him and shooed them away as if you were his mother. If he goes past his limits, all he can think of is your annoying face all screwed up in pity. Eyes soft, voice gentle. You’d probably let him rest his head on your lap only for him to vomit on your thighs. He can’t imagine you shouting at him even if he was to soak your clothes in wine and stomach acid and he hates you for it. You’d pet him with the gentleness you might administer to someone on their deathbed and ask in that awful pitying tone of yours if he felt any better.

He can't drink without thinking of you. He can't touch himself without obsessing over you. You’re the horrible reason he started this habit in the first place. He can’t even bare his flesh for his master to abuse without thinking of your gods' awful pity either.

“Are you alright?” Must be the majority of all the words you’ve ever said to him and he imagines you finding him like this, shoulders sagging as if too heavy for his spine with his hand shoved into his breeches. Sharp teeth sink into his lip and he tries to envision himself through your perspective. To you, he must look like a miserable excuse for a tiefling, and an even worse example of a man. He feels soggy, bogged down by the weight of his failures. The only aspect of his species that he displays is his pride and right now, such a concept is far away from where he usually keeps it. The mask of confidence is replaced with a whimpery fat-lipped need to feel anything besides the desire for self-flagellation, and he shudders in disgust while imagining you looking at him, pretty mouth held open for a moment while searching for the words to say.

“Does it hurt?” You’d ask carefully because you’re aware of how easily he finds the audacity to snip at you.

He doesn’t know if you’re asking about the bruises or the awkward way he strokes his cock. You wouldn’t ask him if he needed help, nor would you be shy about closing the distance between your body and his to take charge of the situation. You’d use your thumb and forefinger to pick up his chin and he’d look up at you, unburdened by the undead desperation that plagues his body. In his fantasy, he doesn't think about the complicated feelings he harbors for you, instead, he submits to the determination in your gaze.

In real life, he’d fumble his way through such an occurrence and ultimately be left racking his brain for an apology which he doesn’t know how to say. He doesn’t know how or when to shut up, he’d never let you take charge of him even while painfully aware that you’d figure out a miraculous way to make him feel better. He’d disappoint you and embarrass himself into the binds of a torture chamber of his own design. Even now, just squeezing himself over his clothes, he struggles to quell the gut punch of an orgasm that wants to swallow him whole. He wouldn’t last through your touch, he can’t imagine kissing you because on principle, he can’t entertain such a ridiculous thought. Not only is the concept too embarrassing to hope for, but he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d accidentally cut your soft human lips with his teeth. He’d say something idiotic and you’d slap him right in the face. Perhaps you’d find his body heat too estranged from yours, maybe you’d find his features too odd. Perhaps his shaking breath would betray the way he wants you to see him. Perhaps he’d pass out from all the blood rushing to engorge his cock and then he’d crack his head open on the ground.

Too aware of himself, he thinks that he’d try to kiss you like the muscled heroes in trashy books and he’d somehow manage to poke your eye out with a horn. Analyzing every possible outcome has led Rolan to believe that anything he could try would end up in complete failure. He’s… resilient, but his recent track record displays failure after hard-headed failure. To allow himself a proper delusion where he's able to touch and fuck you without envisioning tail curling embarrassment, he feels as if he needs to give you a reason to see him as anything other than a pathetic dog. He limps as he walks, his tail’s tucked between his legs and he’d bite you if your hand got too close. Why would you ever look down at that with anything besides disgust or pity? If you were to force his door open right now, he’d drench the inside of his pants with cum and before he was able to catch his breath, he’d find a way to make an ass of himself because when it comes to you, he’s mastered the art of behaving like a pompous prick.

You’d never want this… and he’d never be able to charm his way into being passably desirable. It would only add another foot of dirt atop his grave if he finally found the nerve to do something about the complicated basket of feelings he keeps on hand, only for you to reject him outright. He’d never find the right things to say so that this could have a squalid chance of poking its head into reality.

Still, he thinks about your hands sliding down his chest, slowly mapping out the shape of his body as if you intended to remember it. Humans are so soft, his skin is thicker than yours, his chest is ridged and he wonders if such a difference would be pleasurable or painful. Imagining your naked breasts, nipples pressed against his textured skin as he explores your soft curves with his hands makes a gritty moan fall from his lips. He would never be yours, nor would he ever know the pleasure of knowing your body— but he could pretend. He could convince himself that if the stars aligned once he sacrificed his soul, maybe he could have one night with you. A few hours would be sufficient enough for a lifetime of longing. A single kiss, a moment of your time would be enough fuel to help him mentally leap over everything that kept him up at night.

He wishes you really were a devil. The temptation, the need for you would finally respect the concept of reason. If he were to give you his soul, then at least you’d be bound contractually to give him anything he asked for. In all the stories, the seduction of such a being is inevitable. Even the strongest people succumb eventually. The prelude to his demise would drain his soul out of his balls and he’d finish without the disgust that usually rose after he figured out how to think again. In the sticky aftermath, he could say whatever drivel that would fall out of his mouth and you’d take it with an entertained eye-roll. Nothing he could do or say would matter if you had his name neatly signed at the bottom of a horrendously unfair contract. It would be a good deal on your end, you already have him weak and dependent on you so you could do wonders with the usage of his soul. Wanting you would be so much easier if you owned him. He couldn’t hate you or himself if he had no choice but to obsess over you. He wouldn’t chase away your constant presence in his thoughts if he’d given his mind away, completely at peace to let it rot in your greedy hands.

The bed creaks under Rolan’s weight as he finally lays down with a bratty huff. He buries his face into the mattress with his eyes tightly shut as if that would keep him from hating the desperate way he claws for his pillow. He already knows that his hand won’t suffice, he’s already bunny fucking the mattress, hopelessly grinding himself against the solid mass, wishing he could bore a hole into it without anyone discovering his shame. His breeches barely escape his ire when struggling with the ties takes a moment too long. They’re shoved down with a growl and his pillow is folded in half to then be shoved beneath his hips. With his thoughts soaked self-admonition, he finds enough of an in to slot his cock into the plush crease of his folded pillow. Nothing about it feels right, it’s loose and dry but he whimpers with the idea of what it represents.

Thankfully his rushing thoughts are a potent enough concoction to mask the way his mind struggles to imagine thrusting into you. He can’t think anymore, he’s so hard that it hurts and all he wants to do is thrust into the cushy relief of his pillow, panting into his mattress while obsessing over vague ideas of what your body would feel like.

You’re always so attuned to his well-being. Always so eager to offer your help. If he told you that the only thing he wants from you is to fuck you until he can’t think anymore, would you graciously bend over the nearest surface and offer your pretty cunt? The diagram painted such a vivid idea of what you’d look like. Apparently, your cunt swells similarly to his cock when aroused and he imagines the offering of a swollen flower, petals engorged with need and the dripping center of it drooling steadily in anticipation. You’d be so inexplicably soft. Humans are a ridiculous species, and he wasn’t immune to the inherent curiosity he holds for your kind. With zero real-life experience to go on, he believes that humans have heavier breasts. He thinks that fat settles differently on your species’ bodies and there just seems to be more to grab and hold onto. You’re tailless and he wonders if that might make it easier to drive deeper into your body if you were positioned on all fours. Lust soaked daydreams of hips and thighs torment him daily. He’s much larger than the four inches of your body’s comfortable limits (a fact provided to him by the anatomy book), and Rolan wonders if you’d be able to handle the intrusion of his cock.

According to the tiny font of raunchy, cheaply printed novelettes, it would be a tight fit but you’d eventually be shouting his name in place of any god you pray to. He imagines you reaching for his ass, your legs locked around his hips and you do your best to hold him deeply inside of you, wet heat begging him to remain buried in your depths. Women can orgasm contrary to popular belief, and aided by the combination of educational journals, books on body function, and a few trashy epics, he’s decided that at least once in his life, he’ll make a woman come for the sheer sake of curiosity. With you, he’d make you come as often as physically possible, but if he can’t have you he thinks that just once with someone else will be enough to quench the intrigue.

Gritting his teeth, he jerkily thrusts and grinds into his pillow. The bulbous base of his cock is painfully swollen and he closes his fist tightly around it, squeezing hard and wishing for the tight clasp of your body. He’d seal you up and pump you so full of come that you’d forget every sorry state you’ve ever found him in. The looming understanding that satisfaction will remain at an atrocious distance forces his hips into a frenzy, too stubborn to admit defeat. Rolan hisses in frustration due to the sorry pillow that doesn’t offer nearly as much friction as he needs. The needy mouth of your cunt would be so much tighter, so much wetter than this awful thing. You’d take him with a gasp of shock, surprised by the heat of his turgid cock as he encases himself inch by inch into all of that softness he imagines. The underside of his cock is ridged similarly to the rest of him, and according to the anatomy book, he differs in other ways as well. Would the shape of him shock you? Would your tight little cunt spasm around him as if in awe of the pleasure he brings? In the few dirty stories he’s discovered over the years, human women adore his kind. Blunt-headed human cocks pale in comparison to a tiefling’s. Filled to the brim, your eyes would roll back and you’d ask him to please fuck you. Would you tell him that he’s ruined you for all other men and you’ll need him from now on to satiate yourself? Rolan's delirious thoughts decide yes, those are definitely things you’d say.

More likely, you’d give yourself over with that teasing, snooty look of yours, all too aware that he needs you because you’ve learned how to read him like a book. He’d take you although the acquisition would feel more like blind surrender. You once asked if he intended to thank you for your efforts and he imagines you asking him to thank you for the privilege of just the sight of you. You’d spread your cheeks, exposing the vexing pink blush of your folds and he’d have no choice but to fall to his knees before you. He’d fucking crawl if you’d let him just breathe in the scent of your cunt. Even now, he feels light-headed and caught between too many contradictory points. His heart is wedged in his throat, his lungs feel strained and he swallows dryly while imagining what it would be like to drag his tongue between your folds.

Rolan curls in on himself and uses the heel of his palm to press against the pillow, desperate for more friction. Caught on a new train of thought, he pants open-mouthed, tongue painfully dry while imagining your legs spread over his face. He’s thirsty, he’s half alive and the short distance between your body and his mouth feels like torture. You bossily direct him to speak his adoration into your cunt and before he can promise that he will, you proceed to cover his ears with your soft thighs. You’ll call him a golden boy like you did when telling him that he shouldn’t leave the grove alone. Instead of telling him that his apprenticeship doesn’t make him some sort of golden boy, the term is given to him as a pet name. You like his eyes, you like his tongue and the way he’ll die before disappointing you again. You’ll reach for his horns, forcing his head up so you can grind against his mouth, and his tongue moves in untrained flat strokes because he doesn’t know what you like. He envisions fucking you on his tongue, thrusting it into your heat with the intent of worshipping the hidden sanctuary of your cunt. Your reward for his resignation, for finally giving you the thanks you deserve tastes like the safety he longs for and he feels at home with you above him.

In the present, his tail thumps against the mattress, and the pointed tip flicks in agitation as something final settles in his bones. This realization has been building in ferocity long before he began violating his pillow and he rubs his cheek against the mattress, breathing hard with the back of his throat feeling inflamed. The moan forced out of him crackles, his ragged breath sets it alight and the fiery resignation is executed through a blubbering whimper. Rolan’s hips punch forward as if trying to punish the pillow for its current form, he thinks that it should be you. He should be in your arms, he should be driving his pitifully sensitive cock against your skin, and he’d beg for the privilege of fucking your thighs because he can't bear the idea of disappointing your cunt with his ultimately early release. This should be an act of supplication. You’ve won. He’s at your mercy. He needs you, he needs you. You’ll save him from his pride once again and he’ll finally find the words necessary to declare to you what an ass he’s been.

As if his body was politely waiting for the mental submission, his spine straightens, and cum shoots from the head of his prick before he’s fully realized the impending threat of his orgasm. Reduced to sensation alone, Rolan rumbles out a long groan as he fucks a deluge of cum into his pillow. All he can do is thrash against the violence of his every sense expelling from his body in the form of viscous white sludge. His mouth hangs open stupidly as his frenzied thrusts soon dispel into non-movement. When it’s all over, he takes a long, slow breath and he’s surprised to discover that doesn't feel the pressing need to clean up his shame before hatred can find its way back into place. Right now, his wounds don’t exist, neither does his anxiety. His pride’s already fucked off to another plane and Rolan hopes it’ll take an extended holiday. He wants to confront you without it for the first time since you forced your way into his life.

Determined, his ego picks the pieces of itself from the ground as Rolan grinds his softening cock into the now cool mess of his release. He thinks that such a tribute has to be well received. With no experience with women, people, or conversations and social normality— Rolan has high hopes that the next inevitable run-in with you will end on a pleasant note. Of course, nothing of his fantasies will be realized, —he’ll hold those thoughts in the dreary prison he keeps them in—, but he’s resolute to to let you in on the secret respect he’s reserved for you.

You mean a great deal to him, and he hopes to let you know as such.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm sorry I made you read the word turgid, I thought it was funny and refused to edit it out lol.

#baldurs gate fanfic #Bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan x you #poki writing #Poki fics #bg3 rolan

333 notes · View notes