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peggyao3 · 6 months ago

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Kaleidoscope

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: In a fight for freedom or death against the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, his woman figures out how she feels about him, her poor devil wrapped in the skin of a beast.

WORD COUNT: 2,750

TAGS: Third person POV, AFAB she/her FMC, explicit sexual content, rough sex, PiV, Switch!Feyd, Switch!FMC, but mostly Dom!Feyd, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, blood and injury, pain kink, blood kink, extremely dubious consent, gory nasty smut, blood for lube, mutilation, very public sex, and they lived happily ever after

A/N: Happy FEYDUARY! 🖤 Pulling this one out of the archive (specifically the ao3) for the occasion.

I've been obsessed with trying to decode the Harkonnen language (even though there's just a snippet of it in the fic) and I've found this reddit post and especially this one extremely interesting. The user @/tharpi9145 on YouTube commented under this video that the Harkonnen arena chanting was translated in Chinese theaters and provided the translation, so here's where that's coming from in the fic.

The theme and some of the descriptions in this oneshot are heavily inspired by the RP I'm writing with my sweetest friend.

Reposted from Ao3 💕| Masterlist

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

"Ek te stroeng ge e deser xhakhing grul klaxhkseda de haun dau ek se en-Barun Feyd-Rautha!" ~ Our glorious, black sun welcomes you to these special festivities of our beloved na-Baron Feyd-Rautha's holy birthday! ~

The booming echo of boos and whistling from the crowd passes through her heart and soul as she stands poised at the center of the arena, a brutalist behemoth chiseled of coal-black concrete. With her hand wrapped around the chalky hilt of her double-ended spear, she lets the vibrations pass through her in waves, taking deep lungfuls of Giedi Prime's putrid air that gathers in the pit of the arena like a thick bog.

When the crowd begins to chant in Harkunnin, guided by the announcer's guttural timbre, she perceives the world as if through a filter.

sacrifice to House Harkonnen her mortal blood (give up her blood!) dedicate to House Harkonnen her faithful flesh (give up her flesh!) leave to herself the deadly fear (leave the fear!) leave to the mortals the endless fear (beckon to death!)

The halves of the oval doorway slide open, like a birth canal giving way to its hellish spawn, and Feyd-Rautha marches confidently into the triangular colossus. From the highest stand he is no bigger than a mote on the lens of the binoculars, yet his presence fills the entire arena, more god than man to the one million spectating fanatics.

What is she thinking, challenging their god of blood and rot? Everyone craves to see her fail, no one wishes for her to earn her freedom. No one understands how she could reject their idol who has chosen her - unworthy, unwilling thing - as his concubine.

A putrid breeze catches the fabric of Feyd's tunic as he saunters in a wide half-circle, like a snake drawing closer and closer, hypnotizing its prey with slow movements made of liquid. This is how the gladiators in the Empire of Roma on Old-Earth must have felt, she thinks, thrown into the ring with a beast to fight for life and death. Freedom or death, in her case. Feyd is the beast and she is the human. The only human, going by the fanatic crescendo of Harkonnen chanting.

"May my spear skewer you dead," she greets Feyd-Rautha when he stands before her, a smooth pillar of black and white, unfazed by the chanting and the radiation. The corner of his mouth twitches.

"And mine you." Feyd grins at the brief flicker of confusion as she glances at the weapons he holds so carefully. Blades, not spears.

The crescendo peaks, a beehive of frenetic anticipation, all eyes on who will launch the first attack.

She was never meant to win, she realizes the moment she lunges, soft sand shifting underfoot. The sand in the training pit is harder, more gravelly. Her balance feels off and Feyd knows it.

He playfully parries her attack, then the next and the next. The humor in his eyes is the worst thing, and the condescending gleam.

Months of hoping and training for her freedom are reduced to nothing and less than nothing within minutes. This is not the fair chance he promised her. All of their training together was a slight. The sweat, blood and tears she shed into the gravelly sand, those times when she scraped him bloody with her spear and made him laugh, made him praise her like he was truly impressed.

"You dishonorable dog!" She screams against the thick smog and the wailing background noise of the crowd. "You promised me a fair fight, you promised!"

Feyd's expression darkens momentarily, pouty lips turned downwards, a storm brewing in his eyes. A telltale muscle in his jaw twitches.

Yes, she's made him angry, good! Perfect!

Feyd's blades smack against her spear, a quick succession of tack, tack, tack. Then a thump as he aims for her fingers with the handle to shatter her bones. She dips backwards, thrusting the spear forwards at the same time. Feyd's shield prickles angrily, repelling her thrust.

Back into defense, quick, tack, thump, sksshhh!

The longer of the kukris scrapes unpleasantly against the spear shaft. She gyrates in a tight circle, piercing Feyd's shield with the lower end of the shaft pressed against his neck. She ushers him with her in a circular orbit until he ducks under the spear and aims for her thighs, slowing his attack just in time to penetrate the shield. Her trousers tear and blood hotly soaks the fabric. It's a shallow cut. He could have sliced her femoral artery.

"Why are you holding back, you motherless bastard? Kill me now!"

Disbelief slackens Feyd-Rautha's features as he takes a step back, blades dangling from his hands. He looks surreal in the glaring light, stripped of color, stripped of the soft hues that only show themselves in the artificial light of the glow orbs in her room. She is mad for provoking him.

The unbeaten gladiator roars - the birthday boy - he lunges and slams down, not with the blades but with the handles. With brutal force and precision, they hit the center of the spear's shaft, accomplishing the impossible.

A hairline fracture springs over the shaft, Sardaukar craftsmanship damaged by the ferocity of one apoplectic Harkonnen who laughs boyishly at her expression. Abusing her surprise (has her weapon been sabotaged?!), he tackles her to the ground.

Dust puffs up, momentarily obscuring her vision. Instinctively, she yanks up the spear, pressing it through Feyd's shield, shaft against his throat.

He sits on her thighs, blades sinking through her shield to kiss her sternum, tickling without killing. The pressure against his throat draws terrible grunting and choking noises from the na-Baron who laughs open-mouthed, spit dribbling off his teeth, an inky rivulet that penetrates her shield and slips wetly over her bare clavicles. She fights to shove him off with the full force of two hands.

The hairline fracture in the spear begins to branch out, crack by tiny crack. She stares awestruck and with horror as Feyd-Rautha's face turns grey, teeth bared grotesquely as he groans and salivates and laughs like a boy.

Aaaaaa-ooooohh!

The crowd bellows as the spear splinters right in the middle and Feyd's throat bursts through, marred by a fat bruise that stretches black and ugly just below his Adam's apple. His voice is hoarse and barely recognizable when his body pushes into her shield, chests coming flush, and his drooling mouth finds her neck, sucking a bruise as his breath rattles in his throat. His blade-wielding fists push harmlessly into the sand.

"Anything you'd like to feed the dishonorable dog?"

"I want you to choke on sand and die! I want you to- Ahhh!"

Feyd wrenches the spear halves out of her hands and throws them away. She screams into his laughing visage as he pins her to the sand, hikes up her tunic and tears off her shield generator, then slashes through the front of her pants.

When he reaches down to unclasp the armor plate that shields his crotch, she lunges and punches him in the guts, punches him again, only waiting for the crotch plate to come off so she can punch him there, but Feyd slices her hand with a flash of white metal. The lacerating pain momentarily knocks the breath out of her lungs and she falls back, clutching the hand to her chest, howling.

Gazing up, she is looking into a kaleidoscope of madness, a writhing mass of Harkonnens all around, an ensemble for a nightmare and she is the involuntary harlequin.

The heat of the black sun brings a second pulse against the inside of her eyeballs and she feebly lifts her lacerated hand, surprised to see that all of her fingers are still attached, though her middle and index finger stand unnaturally far apart, separated by a glistening, weeping gash diagonally through her palm.

A pale, writhing shape behind her hand catches her attention and Feyd-Rautha's disfigured voice penetrates her brain fog. "You thought you could ever make it off my planet, whore?" His eyes gleam with mania, bleached by the black sun. "Out of my palace, out of my arms, unless I allowed it?!"

His shield is gone, his blades lie next to him in the sand. This is his victor's feast. The crotch plate is gone too and he cuts through more of her trousers and underwear. Groaning, she feels for the spears or knives, hissing when sand grates against her injury.

The wailing crowd convulses like one entity, a parasitic hive mind that undulates back and forth, a sea of black and white.

(give up her flesh!) (give up her flesh!) (give up her flesh!)

She screams when Feyd's hand wraps around her thigh where he cut her earlier, squeezing and prodding until it comes away coated in blood. The hot liquid touches between her thighs, spread over her cunt by calloused fingers that even find the mercy in them to sink into her once, twice, lubricating her walls with her own blood.

Compared to the searing pain in her cut flesh, the ache of his blunt cock sinking into her is dull, almost comforting in its familiarity. How many times has he fucked her by now? It must have been hundreds. Humiliated in front of a million Harkonnens, this still isn't the worst way he's ever fucked her.

The thought makes her giggle and Feyd looks smitten when he crawls over her, fucking her with long, hard strokes. His eyes keep drifting to her lacerated palm, biting his lip at the sight of blood shed on his holy birthday. He supports his weight on his forearms, fingertips tickling her neck.

"Feyd…" she slurs and Feyd feels compelled to lean further down, anticipation on his features and a noticeable swell of his chest.

"I hate you."

Feyd's jaws twitch, serpent eyes becoming pinpricks while his hips roughly slam into her cunt. His hand wraps around her throat, but then he howls, open mouth turned to the sun, cursing, panting, eyes squinted. His own knife in her hand has slashed through his bicep, deep, deep, deep.

Feyd is unbalanced and she knocks him over. He hits his tailbone on the ground, dust billowing all over them. His cock is still buried in her cunt which has begun to warm up to him, offering slick to ease the glide of the thickly veined, velvety flesh.

She will give the Harkonnens something to boo at.

"Stay back!" Feyd laughs at the prowling picadors.

He is paralyzed by arousal, hips bucking on their own accord as she pins his arm down by the crook of the elbow and hacks the blade into the cut. Pieces of blood and gore splatter over his pale flesh and the armor plate covering his shoulder. His free hand clutches her hip, mind split between pleasure and agony, gripping her flesh to rut into her hard and fast, so he doesn't throw up into the sand.

There is a nauseating crack, hack, cchhrrkkk and Feyd bawls until her bloody hands come up to cover his mouth, knife victoriously planted into the sand. How is she covering his mouth with both hands when she's still holding down his arm? Feyd glances to the side and sees his severed arm being snatched away by a picador's hook.

The horned man-creature sprints away quickly, slipping into the bowels of the arena colossus. If the nerves are preserved, the arm can be reattached later.

"Will you be a good boy now and let me go?" She growls, drawing the attention of black and white glassy eyes back to her. Her pelvis rolls greedily against his. Scratchy sand is trapped between their bloody, sweaty bodies.

Feyd laughs through the pain, laughs and laughs and laughs to mask the raging insanity because his woman still hasn't understood that she will die on Giedi Prime one day and nowhere else. His arm stump twitches against the ground.

"I'm, haha, never a good boy, hnnng-hah!"

"Hah! Yes, that I know!" She blurts out, voice high-pitched. The tears in her eyes may be from laughter as well. She gives a half-assed punch to Feyd's chest. "Fine, then I'll have to make do with a filthy mutt."

Feyd nods, yes, yes, he will be her filthy mutt and it doesn't matter if she wants him or not, if she hates him or not, it is not important, no, it is not important.

"Release me or I'll kill you!" She reaches for the blade again, but Feyd's knee jerks up, slamming into her ribs so she is knocked to the side. Feyd scrambles, crawling on top of her. They're only connected by his plump cock head that is still squished by her wet hole. Feyd's vision prickles with black dots and he sways, trying to catch his weight on the phantom arm that he swears is still there.

He falls down on the stump, howling, howling, like a beast in a bear trap, fighting against unconsciousness. He is the unbeaten gladiator - unbeaten! The ghost of a caring touch prickles against his ribs, stabilizing him.

With his intact forearm pressed against her throat, he throttles her like she did to him with her spear earlier, except that his veined forearm will never shatter, unless she cuts it off too.

She regrets not accepting the contacts that would protect her eyes from radiation. She had been scared of getting sand all over them, but now she wants nothing more than for the burn to stop and the throb-throb-throb behind her eyeballs that somehow matches the drag of Feyd's cock against her walls and the pulse in her slashed hand.

"Why don't you close your eyes, my darling, pretend we're in our bedroom?"

She does close her eyes and the cacophony of chanting voices turns into a warped melody, like wind tearing on leaves and whistling through porous rocks.

Humm, hummm, hummmm.

In this waking nightmare, the vision of her home world is swallowed by the black sun, a ravenous maw in the good universe. She lightly gasps when she feels hot lips against her neck and hot blood dripping on her chest.

She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tearing on the shoulder plate over the stump until it comes off. Softly, she caresses his shoulder while the rutting of his hips is anything but soft. Her legs wrap around his waist because at least he is familiar, an island in the sea of faceless, chanting monsters.

This is what happens when one listens to the voice of the devil. It crawls into the soul and rots you from the inside.

And suddenly the beast you've pitted yourself against is no longer a beast but a man and you're friends with the devil. The thought strikes her and she begins to laugh while tears track down her cheeks. Her poor devil has a severe bruise on his neck and she mustn't think about the arm — Oh, her poor devil!

Her laughter drives Feyd over the edge, pain, pleasure and humiliation, and he spills his rot inside her. Thick, lazy pulses of his cock that she finds oddly comforting. Her toes curl inside her boots and her pelvis happily grinds against Feyd's while the warmth of his seed sinks into her core.

Feyd's breath is heavy and strained when he shuffles away from her and stands, gritting his teeth. He is imposing even though a part of him is missing. The glaring light curls around his soft cheeks and full lips and touches his anemic eyes.

She wants to lie here just a little while longer, the sand is so nice and warm, but Feyd's hand cruelly wraps around her biceps and he drags her across the sand. She calls his name but he keeps marching, fueled by the mad cacophony of chanting and stomping. The hive mind salutes. Sand whirls up under his boots and dusts her face. Her shoulder joint screams in agony.

This was never a battle for death or freedom, it was death or rot.

(Flesh!) (Flesh!) (Flesh!)

They probably don't care whose flesh was given.

Feyd-Rautha maintains his posture for show, internally trembling from blood loss, but the people only see the inhuman strength of their idol, virile and unfaltering despite sacrificing an arm. Still unbeaten.

A black trail of seed and blood stains the white sand where the na-Baron walks and pulls his spoils of battle through the oval door, back into the womb of the concrete behemoth.

FEYD TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #dune fanfiction #dune part two #dune part 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader

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3amfanfiction · 3 months ago

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What about Simon as the bog witch?

He sits on his front porch, wooden boards cracked and blackened with age. There's moss growing along the sides of the house, creeping fingers into every crevice. The window panes are caked and dirty with untold years. The stilts it sits on sink deep into the mucky ground in an attempt to keep it raised and dry.

It doesn't work.

He has his rocking chair out front, a great creaking thing that glides back and forth in perpetual motion, idling the day away talking to the toads and the ghosts of the land, skull mask on so as to blend in. His closest neighbors are half rotted away in the wet ground not three miles over, the mottled skin of their bodies giving way to ivory bone. They find comfort in the familiar.

You can't find him if you're looking. The paths that meander through the swamp lands warp and change and lead to no-where dead-ends as you circle and circle and circle, feet sucked into the wet ground, each step a chore, a great prying of foot from earth only to be reintroduced a scant distance later.

No, his house isn't one to be found. It does, however, show itself to those who have the right shade of despair about them. A fine fragrance of anguish only the truly despondent can carry. Something he can sniff out with his bloodhound of a nose as soon as they enter his territory.

Those.

Those make their way to his doorstep, raised paths giving no choice but to follow as they twist and wind through the murk, will-o-wisps luring them ever forward. They stumble across him right as it's dinner time, candles flickering in the window as the shadows begin to loom, smoke creeping up from the chimney in a playfully taunting curl, enticing you into the warmth.

And his door opens with him backlit in its frame. This behemoth of a man, shoulders turned sideways to fit through the doorway as he steps forward, deep thump settling his weight firmly on the weathered boards of the porch.

You think it's death come to greet you, the way he's decked out in all black, bone white skull leering at you, dark, dark eyes pinning you in place. A knife half the size of his forearm hangs from his belt.

He waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

Always.

You're the one who decides how this plays out. What side of him you get. Tooth or tongue. It's all up to you. Your actions.

If you play your cards right he invites you inside. Into the maw of his control, a slavering thing that has its teeth covered at the moment, a tight reign on emotion but one that stirs as you step inside. The wakening of a beast that draws its first breath, searching, searching.

The inside of his house is eclectic. A fascinating display of handcrafted trinkets and trifles, made by him or traded for over the years, an organic blend that could have only come from time. Years and years. Decades even. How old is he?

You won't ever know. Would never get a straight answer if you asked. Those kinds of details no longer matter. Not here. Not in this place.

So you sit. And you talk. And you never notice. Never notice his long steady inhales, drawing something (drawing you) in. You don't notice the way true night falls over the house, a steady blanket of shadow that engulfs everything, leaving you buoyed together, surrounded by these four walls. Never notice yourself slowly becoming more tired, sinking into the warmth and the ambiance of the house, its own breaths settling in the evening coolness.

Things wind down, conversation slowing and then stopping as he ushers you away to a bed tucked into the corner covered in hides and rough pillows. Ready to kip for the long hours of the night, when the true chill set in and things in the dark would bite first.

But you don't have to worry. Because you fed him that night, didn't you realize?

Even as he scented your anguish and despair, he drew it in—pulling it deep into the crags of himself, letting it fill all the dark spaces. All the putrid dark corners that oozed in the decay of him filled with your hurt. Shed and consumed in one swoop, gone to never bother you again. Unburdened of the weight you had carried to his doorstep. Carried for far too long. Each word you spoke, another piece.

It was such a shame that the memory went with it.

So you were safe from his teeth.

But he had other hungers that swelled in the long hours of the night.

The next morning saw you lighter, no longer dredging the bottom with every step you took as you leave the house in the bog. Your path back straightforward and unwavering, leading you forward with assured steps.

Simon would watch from his porch as you made your way, dark eyes sated in the morning light as he sat on his rocker once more. The steady creak creak creak of the wood filling the morning air, accompanying the buzz of insects already starting to pick up in the mid morning warmth.

#i just think he'd make a really cool bog witch #who eats up all your pain and some of your memories #and does unspeakable things to you in the early morning hours #i'd sign up #fic: bog witch!simon #blurb #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #bog witch!simon

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twilight-sanctuary · 7 months ago

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The Putrid Bog

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 screenshots #bg3 scenery #my screenshots #my bg3 scrns

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albrakia · 11 months ago

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The Sunlit Wetlands

The Putrid Bog

#baldur's gate 3 #video game #gif

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 2 years ago

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How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner.

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly.

What are the chances…

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either.

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone.

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #yup! we're moving away from the labyrinth but fret not! the shenanigans shall continue and relationships will be built!#i forgot how fucking terrifying the fireys are and i now remember way labyrinth gave me nightmares as a kid #twst labyrinth au #also i shit you not i went to go eat at a burger joint last week and 'magic dance' was playing and i lost my fricking mind #like HELLO?! WHAT THE HELL?!#apparently the radio was telling me to fricking work on this fic...#i should really start posting this on ao3 as well... but idk where this is going to go #also posting a standalone fic (oneshot?) tomorrow; you guys will be eating good for a bit. here some crumbs for you and for you and for you

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baldurs-gape · 7 days ago

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Forgotten Realm

If one thing could be said about Withers, it was that he knew how to throw a party. Wine flowed freely, the whole adventuring group was together again, there was music, laughter and hugs. So many hugs. Karlach couldn't get enough. Avernus had been rough, even with Wyll there. Don't get her wrong, she loved the guy and was eternally grateful to him for being there. But it was so nice to see more of their friends. To touch more of them. Maybe there was such a thing as too much wine at a party because all of them were, to put it simply, plastered. Shadowheart was snickering into the crook of Lae'zel's neck while Astarion was telling them some outrageous lie, hands gesticulating wide as he spoke. Next to him, Gale was listing to the side a little, eyes definitely not quite pointing in the same direction. He was chortling along though, captivated by Astarion in a way only a drunk, lovestruck fool could be. It was sweet. An archmage once again yet every bit a school boy with a crush. Karlach watched as he reached for a bottle by their feet and poured a wavering cupful. It was going so well until Astarion's hand swept up through the air in an arc and knocked the goblet out of Gale's hand. Wine spilled in slow motion from the cup, a graceful arch of red that splattered all down Astarion's front. Naturally, Astarion let out a wail of indignance.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Gale was already setting his now mostly empty goblet to the side and pulling his sleeves up. "I've got this my dear. Let me archmage it away."

Karlach felt the shiver from her magic in the tip of her horn as the spell for prestidigitation poured out of Gale. His power was undeniable. His inebriation too. The world flashed and where Astarion had been, his silhouette crumbled into a thousand sparkles that dissipated into the night.

"Hah!" Gale barked out a laugh. "The wine's gone. So's Astarion. Wait. Where did he go? Star?"

Meanwhile, Astarion was squinting in the odd light that wasn't the sun but definitely wasn't a fire either. He was in some endless world where there was no light in the sky, the ground was covered in a few inches of putrid fluids and there was nobody else around. In the distance, he could spy a small mound of something. With nothing better to do, he set out for it. What could have been minutes or hours later, he arrived at the pile. It was a bit more than a mere heap, it was a veritable mountain of anything and everything, constantly moving. Items flashed into existence, only to disappear again a couple of minutes later. However, some things stayed. Like the crown about half way up the junk mountain that Astarion was absolutely determined to retrieve. Clambering up, he was glad nobody else was around, to see him. With how things shifted, appeared and disappeared continually, he tumbled more than once. Finally, the crown was in his hand and he hefted it up high with a happy croon of triumph.

"I hereby crown myself king of...where the fuck am I?" There was nobody around ask, nobody had seemingly laid claim to the lands. Which meant it was Astarion's gods given right to establish ownership!

"I am King Astarion of Astarionia!"

Three steps from the mountain a challenger blinked into existence and Astarion hissed. This was his country, he was going to protect it! By the time he scuttled over, the person was gone. Good. Astarion wasn't in the mood for a fight. Except, another person appeared, frozen mid-motion. Circling the gnome with suspicion, Astarion gave it a shove and grinned as it toppled over. Another minute later it disappeared in the same silent manner it had materialised. Now that Astarion was paying attention, he could see that the plains beyond his mountain-come-throne was an ever changing landscape of statues. He'd approached from the bog of vile where various kinds of filth dripped into existence with loud splats. The lands on the other side of his castle of junk was field of fascination. Stalking through the statues, Astarion spotted a rather familiar figure right at the base of the mountain. Frozen into stone with a rather indignant frown was Lae'zel.

~~~

The party was in pandemonium. Gale was searching for Astarion under the nearest table, calling his name like when he was summoning Tara. Shadowheart was squinting into the abandoned goblet of wine that had been the culprit of it all, but there was no sign of Astarion in there either. Frantically, Wyll was hunting for a scroll of See Invisibility even though Karlach's eye, courtesy of Volo, should have picked up on it.

"He's gone," Lae'zel observed most astutely. "His memory nothing but a stain on our conscience."

"No! Don't say that! He's here somewhere!" Gale stomped his foot in frustration, tears in his eyes as he drunkenly tried to keep searching. "I will find him. He's not that small, he can't hide."

"You're searching for a ghost."

"Be gone with you and your negativity!" Gale threw a hand out and, before he could think better of it, banished Lae'zel. A collective cry of "GALE!" went up and he pouted. "She'll be back. I'm an archmage, I know what I'm doing."

At least this time he was right, Lae'zel was back not two minutes later. Curiously, she had a garland of flowers around her neck and a bent fork clutched in his previously empty but clenched fist.

"What in the whole of Toril?!" Wyll approached. "Where did you get there?"

"Tsk'va!" Throwing the fork and the garland to the ground, Lae'zel jumped up and glared around the clearing, trying to find the assailant who had made such a fool of her. "Who dared bestow such indignity unto me?"

Nobody at the party, that was for sure. Which led to more questions and bad ideas.

"If it's Astarion, trying to communicate, we need to get back to him." Wyll rubbed at his chin. "Gale, you'll need to banish me. I'll take a message."

Finding a scrap of parchment, they wrote a painstakingly difficult message.

Astarion, is that you?

Holding the paper in two hands and on full display, Wyll nodded at Gale. In a blink he was vanished. It was a matter of waiting.

Much like Lae'zel, Wyll returned a couple of minutes later. His horns were wrapped in tired looking tinsel and there was a teddy tucked into the crook of his arm. The parchment was conspicuously missing but there was a scrap in its place.

Who dares address the King of Astarionia with such lack of reverence and respect?

"That's Fangs," Karlach muttered. "Right?"

Unimpressed, Wyll tried to untangle his horns without much success. He eyed the parchment with distrust.

"It could be a trick. How can we prove it's him?"

Meanwhile, Gale and Shadowheart were leaning over a fresh piece of parchment and squabbling. Splatters of ink dripped from a raised quill as they tugged at it, both wanting to write their own message.

"Guys!" Karlach slapped another quill and parchment down between them. "I have two hands."

Which was how she ended up holding a parchment in each hand. One asking whether Astarion knew where he was so they could open a portal for him. The other was demanding the reveal of the hidden stash of good wine that he'd apparently managed to squirrel away from the table when nobody was watching.

Upon her return, Karlach hand a bangle and a necklace decorating her horn. And a message that said 'you'll never find me'. The wail of despair from Gale was one that only the truly inebriated could make.

"I made him disappear. I'm too powerful for my own good. Mystra, save me from myself!"

As per usual, Mystra ignored him. So did the others.

There were murmurs of "we need to get him back" and "where even is he?" that nobody had a good answer to. None of the go were willing to listen to prayers, Astarion couldn't get in touch with them unless one of them was banished first. Tracing a banishment spell was nigh on impossible, it didn't last long enough to follow before it snapped its target back into existence.

"Withers!" For once, Karlach was the one taking charge. "Could you help?"

"Yes."

Shadowheart followed on.

"Will you help?"

"No."

In the background, Gale and Wyll were discussing the finer points of blindly opening portals to unknown realms in the hopes of finding Astarion. Something about rapid fire portal hopping, negating travel sickness with more wine and a warding spell to keep accidental intrusions into hostile lands a survivable incident. Shadowheart and Karlach turned as one to Withers with raised eyebrows.

"You sure?" Karlach clarified.

"No." A noise that sounded suspiciously like a resigned sigh escaped Withers and he raised a hand. The soft glow of a portal lit up up the clearing. "Go, fetch your friend."

~~~~

Astarion was keeping a sharp eye out for any more of his friends appearing. Realising they were looking for him, he had quickly discovered the joys of mischief. He'd found a basket in the mountain and rapidly filled it with trinkets that he could use to decorate the frozen forms of the others. Of particular pride was what looked suspiciously like a clown's nose that Astarion was really hoping to attach to Shadowheart. A pout was forming on his lips as more and more time passed without someone appearing. In a fit of boredom, he shoved random junk onto other statues, hoping that, on their return from their stint in his realm, they would be confused if not entertained.

The glow of a portal drew his attention. He watched as Gale stumbled through the light, blinking and staring around. Abandoning his basket of treatures, Astarion flung his arms open wide as he shouted.

"Welcome to Astarionia!"

"My king!" Gale staggered towards him in a drunk waddle before dropping to his knees and wrapping arms around Astarion's legs. "My liege! My heart!"

"Where the fuck are we?" Of course Karlach was the next one through the portal and she was more reserved in her exuberance at being reunited with Astarion.

"Astarionia, where else?" Astarion replied at the same time as Withers appeared.

"The Realm of the Forgotten and Unwanted. This is where all the banished, the prestidigitated, and the vanished come."

Astarion's ears drooped in sadness.

"Forgotten and unwanted? Is that what I am?"

"No!" Gale struggled to his feet, just to pull him in for a tight hug. "Only the wine. I want you. I need you." Big, wet eyes stared at Astarion. "Please come home?"

Home. That sounded nice. Especially when Gale said it like that. Hot arms engulfed them as Karlach joined the hug, squeezing them together. She was rapidly followed by Shadowheart, Wyll and Lae'zel while Withers stood back and watched. To think that it was these six that defeated the netherbrain, derailed the chosen of the Dead Three. Somehow, he still marvelled at the fact the world was standing. He could just about overhear the conversation happening in the middle of the hug.

"So this is where everything comes after someone casts prestidigitation? Didn't you say you learned that as a teenager?" Karlach's voice boomed.

A yowl of disgust from Astarion was rather ear piercing.

"I need new boots. These need to be burned. Now!"

The huddle sprang apart as Astarion sprinted for the portal, shaking his feet like a cat in shoes as he went.

How they saved the world, Withers couldn't figure out. But he was glad that they did.

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #astarion/gale #astarion #bg3 astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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greycloakofevereska · 2 years ago

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Auntie Ethel Victims

BG3 Scenery 5/?

"Please. It's you lot who come to me. All you do is want - to be prettier, to be richer, to be loved. People are their own worst enemies, petal. I just let them see it."

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #video games #bg #autie ethel #riverside teahouse #bg3 riverside teahouse #putrid bog #auntie ethel #mine #scenery #Laifingifs

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lagncx · 6 months ago

Text

Protecting a fire with bare hands

Chapter: 9 "Blue and gold."

Water rushes, I am the water and you are the purple flowers that flow down my stream...slow down so the currents in my body of water can feel every petal...every thorn.

Yikes been a while..

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

Freyr…if you were to ask Heimdall about sizzles he would’ve said Freyr was an idiot who led his own straight to their doom with his stupidity.

You weren’t as knowledgeable about Asgard's history or which god was which, and you never imagined you’d meet any god other than the Aesir gods. It was overwhelming to understand what they all represented, and you wouldn’t ask Heimdall because he starts talking and never stops.

It turned out you’d find more than just yourself during your time in Midgard.

——

You were in Midgard and you had already found Modi and Magni's remains you were there only now to learn about yourself. You had turned towards the large world serpent, he seemed not to mind you, and you must’ve not been a threat.

There was no goal, just searching for a goal. You realized that in Midgard other than your occasional encounter with Brok and Sindri it was quite lonesome.

In the corner of your eye, you saw the washed shore of a ruin, squinting to see it was people roaming there, they looked in distress, you had something to do now so you made your way down the temple stairs and towards the water, you took a deep breath and let it out as you stepped on the water’s surface. Continuing on you approached the shore but those people seemed long gone, walking across definitely took some time. But to completely avoid your path?

Stepping on the black sand you looked around, you were always curious…sometimes too much. Continuing down the path of fallen stones and large broken doorways it smelled of salty water and dust. You saw a cave at the end of the ruins, you looked back at the Lake of Nine then back at the cave.

You shook your head “If they don’t want to meet then I won’t force them.” Just as soon as you turned a large blob of brown smoke came at you, exploding in front of you, the smell was putrid and it burned like fire down your throat, your eyes brimmed with tears. You let out a strangled wheeze. Going to draw your sword you felt your hand get sliced but you could see no one in the dense poisonous bog

“Grab her!”

“Tie her!”

“So—so hungry!”

You were thrust to the ground, the rough earth digging into your skin as hands roamed over you like sinister, crawling scorpions. When the fog finally dissipated, you blinked in disbelief and found yourself surrounded by humans. They were closing in, overpowering you with their sheer number. Desperation surged within you as you turned your gaze to the water nearby, silently pleading for its assistance. To your astonishment, the water began to swell and rise, the surface shimmering with a silvery light. You sensed the humans' awareness shift, their eyes widening in alarm, as they registered the growing menace of the water. “Take it! Take it!”

“Her garments, their Asgardian.”

“Put her out shes using magick!”

You looked at one of them who stood up and with a heavy kick to the head, you were out.

——-

You awaken with a jolt, your heart racing as you realize your arms are bound tightly behind you. A thick cloth gag muffles your voice, and an unsettling piece of metal presses down on your tongue, rendering you utterly speechless. Panic rises in your chest, but you force yourself to breathe, searching your surroundings. Shadows flicker on the stone walls, cast by the dim glow of torches lining the room. The air is thick with tension, and distant voices murmur, their words indistinct yet charged with an ominous energy.

“Hey! Yeah you! fuck you! Let me go!”

A reaver opened up a hatch above you, you looked up with your eyes wide as you saw someone being thrown down and you rolled away dodging the fallen man. You wiggled using your core to sit up grunting and your head was banging with pain. Looking to your left you saw a toned-skinned man groaning, his cheek pressed against the floor as he lay at an uncomfortable angle “Ugh-..”

You watched him turn on his back; he had features not that of any Midgardians, or Aesir and he wasn’t from Alfheim. But it was dim lighting and you didn’t care.

Turning your head away, you shuffled your feet nervously against the cold, gritty floor, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. He suddenly snapped his head in your direction, a startled expression crossing his face. “Oh—you scared me,” he exclaimed with a nervous chuckle, the sound echoing in the dimly lit space around you. “They got you too? Man, at least I have some company in this nightmare.”

He sat up turning to you “How long have you been stuck in this place? Not much of a talker, huh?” He shrugged, his eyes shifting to the shadows beyond. “That’s fine; I’m just rambling to cope with the chilling thought that I might end up as someone’s dinner.” The humor in his voice felt strained, a thin veneer over the unease that hung heavy between you.

You turned back to him, curiosity mingling with confusion as he formed an "O" shape with his mouth. “Oh, they gagged you,” he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of disbelief. His gaze trailed downward, taking in the fabric of your clothes as if assessing the absurdity of the situation. “An Asgardian, in Midgard?” he mused, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

An uneasy silence enveloped the air between you. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the tension palpable. As you sat there, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the fatigue that pulled at you, desperately trying to quell the throbbing headache that clouded your thoughts. Just as you began to drift into a haze of half-sleep, a sudden tug at the cloth binding your mouth startled you, yanking you back to awareness. You snapped your eyes open, alert and uncertain.

The man grunted, “Come on.” He whispered as he used his teeth to undo the knot pulling the cloth from his mouth. You spit out the metal piece your tongue was dry “There…now let’s skip introductions. Do you have a plan?” You looked at him keeping silent.

“Alright…guess not.”

The hatch from above opened up again “Eat!” The reaver yelled, dropping down a bag. The toned prisoner yelled “Okay! Sure! If you untie us!” You got yourself on your knees and stood up walking to the bag the man followed “If I chew your ropes off, will you chew mine? Im starving, but ladies first of course.” You shook your head and looked up at the hatch

You cleared your throat, willing moisture to coat your parched tongue. “Where are we?”

The man, his mouth buried deep in a bag of what appeared to be coarse grain, looked up. “Ah, so she does speak?” His voice came out slightly muffled. “Well, when they captured me, they dragged me here, and I’m guessing this is their base. It’s a cave—obviously— and we seem to be at the very bottom of it.”

Turning to face him, you couldn’t shake the memory of the first time you encountered a deer, eyes wide and startled as it barreled away from you. This man reminded you of that moment; his large, expressive eyes glistened with an almost innocent, and his thick eyebrows arched dramatically above them, giving him an unexpected air of vulnerability.

You turned to him “I have a plan…but not gonna work at this moment.” The man nodded “Well why don't you come to eat-” He was cut off by you already going to sit in the corner, As you settled down, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. You weren't sure what time it was, but your thoughts drifted back to the sacred temple, where your sword whispered ancient tales into your ear, its voice a melodic echo of your past. Your heart raced, longing for Asgard—the children playing in the sun, the lush green meadows, and the vibrant hues that painted the skies. You missed it all, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

A flicker of concern crossed your mind—did they miss you, too? Did Heimdall gaze down from his watchful perch, thinking of you, yearning for your presence? Looking down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he might somehow hear your silent plea, carried across the vast distance that separated you, but that was silly.

—----

Weeks had passed, filled with the man's incessant chatter. Strangely, you didn't even know his name—yet you had no desire to ask. Tonight, a shift hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension. You glanced over at the man, who had developed an odd routine of dozing off beside you. Even when you shifted away in your sleep, he instinctively inched closer, as if he were drawn by an invisible thread, trying to keep the warmth between you alive. You looked at his tied arms his body turned from you, looking around the walls smelt like a river and the stones, rain. It was time to move.

‘Bless the Vanir god Freyr hm?’ you thought

You leaned down your teeth gnawing and tugging at the man's binds, this was embarrassing but being so close to his arms you saw burn marks, healed but still the scars created deep paths on their arms, The man shuffled slightly in his sleep, his voice a low, teasing whisper, “Mmm, c’mon girl, don’t be scared to make them tighter~.” You pulled away, a wave of disgust washing over you as you met his gaze. Though still in a daze, he chuckled softly, his eyes slowly flickering open. For a moment, he lay frozen, a mixture of amusement and surprise on his face. Eventually, he relaxed, an easy smile spreading across his lips. “You know, some women actually ask before they touch.”

You looked up at the small, circular hatch above, anxiety mixing with determination. “It's time. Sit up,” you instructed firmly. His smile widened as he responded, “Hels yes, finally! You know, I had my doubts about you being an Asgardian and all, but being in Midgard—well, you must’ve really stuck it to that asshole, huh? No surprise Odin has always seen his people as something to be disposed of.”

Gritting your teeth, you chewed relentlessly through the ropes binding him. Squinting at him, you snapped back, “Excuse me? You dare speak of The All-Father that way?” The man’s smirk faltered, his expression shifting from playful arrogance to a perplexed frown. “The All-Father? Do you still call him that? Oh no…” His voice trailed off as recognition dawned, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you.

Sill not understanding his disrespect “Yes he has saved me from death and made me Protector of realms. Now im going to pretend you didn't say that and you're going to chew my binds like I did yours.” You waited but he just rubbed his arms standing up “Yeah, no. It's just my luck, getting captured is normal but being locked in a cannibal hideout with a devotee to Odin fucking takes it to a new level.” You stood up glaring at him “And what are you? Some Vanir obsessed with Freyr’s cause?!” Water was filling even faster and you had a feeling it was due to your rising anger.

in.”

The man stepped to your face his teeth clenched in anger, “No, I am The Vanir God, Freyr.” You felt your heart sink He grinned “Yeah…so I won't be untying you, you'll stab me in the back or light the rest of me on fire. And I will not relive that pain again, and what is that noise?!” You and he both looked up at the hatch sound of yells and running

“Run, we’ll be flooded in!”

Freyr shook his head pacing back and forth “This water, everything is frozen, how is it raining.”

You looked down “It’s not rain…it’s ice—melted ice.” Freyr approached you “How do you know that?” You looked down seeing the water rising faster “The water it…Obeys me? I’m not sure but I can manipulate it as long as it is water, it replenishes me, not only hydrates me but cleanses me, heals me.

Freyr nodded “water is the root of all life.” You looked up at him, he looked into your eyes thinking, before walking behind you and untying your binds “I won’t let you drown without a fighting chance, but this doesn’t make us allies.” You could finally stretch your arms making you sigh in relief, you looked up and back at Freyr

“The water will rise to the top and we swim out and make our way to the entrance of the cave.” Freyr put up a finger almost like to ask a question “That means the rest of the cave will be flooded, it’ll be dark too dark to see the way out.”

You nodded “I know…that’s why you’re leading us, you saw the way in, take us out.” Freyr looked down the water already mid way up his torso “Outstanding.” He looked at you “Who’s your father?”

You kept your eyes up “Dead.”

“What?” Freyr asked not sure if he heard right, you looked at him “My parents, mom and father, their dead. Gone, all I have is my adoptive parents in Asgard.” You realize you kept opening up your own information to this stranger

You peered at him with a sideways glance “Why?”

Freyr pressed his lips in a thin line “I’m the son of a god, Njörðr.”

He continued but you echoed at the same time

“God of the sea.”

“God of the sea.” You nodded “Yea. I did my research but I doubt I am related to your father, the water powers I learned from my father but I found that these days, I don’t even remember his face or his name.” You said sadly, you both were now swimming, the water rising, and everything went dark.

Pitch black. The sound of rushing water leading you to the Hatch, you had a hand on Freyrs back “Together on this okay? Don’t try to kill me.” He said and you nodded though he couldn’t see you.

He took a few breaths “Be ready this is your last breath opening this the rest of the water will seep through.” You took a deep breath “I need to hear you say Okay.” He said

You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing, and your heart. You could very much still drown.

You remember when younger and back in Asgard Heimdall held your hand to Gulltoppr your body had pushed back against his but he proceeded towards the cat and her fierce gaze struck fear into your heart and mind. You whimpered and begged him not to..

“Please Heimdall she’ll bite me!”

“She won’t.”

“Please don’t make me”

You pushed back hiding your face in his chest, it was his own fault he cruelly made Gulltoppr jump at you nipping at you to scare you and it did, now he wanted you to touch her?!

Heimdall put his lips to your ear and softly whispered.

“Be brave.”

You opened your eyes but there was no change the cave was still dark “…okay” suddenly water invaded any sense of air and your eyes burned as you opened them, your ears popped you felt Freyr pulling you by your clothes out of the Hole and you squinted trying to see his figure as much as you could, reaching out to the dark you felt clothes and tugged on them, earning a hand taking yours pulling you along as you swam.

At this point, your lungs begged for air and you felt your legs cramping from the exercise after having so little nutrition.

Looking around you saw a light your heart beat faster in excitement requiring more air making you panic, but a hand held you close your legs brushed against the cave walls using them as a way to propel yourself up closer you finally reached the surface gasping for air as soon as your hair emerged from the water, coughing harshly.

“Oh! Land! Sweet sweet land!” You heard Freyr say watching him kiss the ground. You crawled onto the sand laughing resting on the damp ground. Freyr groaned in frustration “Hey, we’re not out of the woods yet.” You lifted your head seeing the Reavers aiming a bow at you, you scrambled up and ran but you stopped turning back to look at the Reavers, its hip.

Your sword.

You ducked from an arrow and ran towards the Reaver who was quick to draw a dagger and slice at you hitting you in the arm, you let out a scream and kicked him in the stomach in retaliation he sliced at you again slashing your stomach, you gasped. Groaning you glared up at the Reaver who was distracted with killing you.

You grabbed your Katana and in a swift motion, you opened it while slicing with the sharp curved side up slicing the Reaver's face in half. You stood up straight hand cradling your stomach.

‘I’m glad you’re alive.’ The sword rang in your mind. You took the katana’s cover, wiping the blood on your sleeve and putting it away, tying it to your hip.

You started to walk, your stomach gushing blood. Freyr who had just got done beating the Other Reavers rushed to you “Hey, you Okay?” You looked up at him, you shook your head gritting your teeth. “No…he got me good.” Freyr looked at the Reaver on the ground. “Yeah, I think you got him better.”

You chuckled and he looked at Tyr's temple. “Come on.” He picked you up, making you yell out in pain from the sudden change.

——

Vanaheim. It wasn’t like anything you had seen before, even more so since you were losing blood and everything looked hazy since you were in and out of consciousness.

“Pretty man you’ve returned!” You heard a voice with a heavy accent say happily

“Lord Freyr you’ve returned, and with an Asgardian, who is this?” You turned, seeing a dark elf laying her hand on your head, Freyr shook his head. “No time for that, she saved me, just help her.” He grunted falling down on his knees “Damn, I’m so tired.” He sighed, “We haven’t eaten anything.”

The elf took you out of his arms sliding your head on her lap. She looked at your wound “Yarrow, lamb crest, and rosemary, lots of it as many as you can find, quickly.” Freyr nodded and got up but a dwarf who you learned was named Lünda pushed Freyr back down “Relax, pretty man, take a break I’ll go fetch it.”

You smiled up at the elf, her hand comfortingly rubbing your head. You whispered, “You're so pretty, I’ve never seen an elf up close..”

Freyr chuckled at your delirious comments “For a protector of Realms you haven’t been around much. Odin didn’t let you out much huh?”

The elf looked at him narrowing her gaze “Odin? She serves him?”

Freyr looked up at her his smile fading “Yeah.“ he whispered

Lünda came back with a basket of herbs in her hand “Beyla, here!” Beyla didn’t move looking back down at you. There was silence. If you moved you’d feel like you were combined into a box. The tension was thick.

Beyla looked down at you and you were focused on the colors behind her: the trees, the leaves, the greens and blues and reds.

She sighed and waved Lünda closer “Come come. Freyr, hold her down.” You felt your arms being pushed down on each side making you look around your delirium turned into panic.

Beyla crushed the herbs murmuring incantations as the herbs turned to paste it glowed a soft blue she took two fingers and pressed onto your wound making you scream in pain, it burned worse than when Thor punched you. You felt tears falling shaking your head “Stop! Please!” Freyr shushed you “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Beyla made quick work using all of the paste and giving the basket back to Lunda. “Space, give her space.” She backed away letting your head fall on the ground, the others backed up. “It’s up to her body to accept the healing process.”

….

Your body started to heal and the others sighed in relief.

Freyr smiled at Beyla “You have such a soft spot.” She scoffed while walking away.

—-

You had lingered far longer than you ever intended, yet it wasn’t by choice; disbelief mingled with frustration as you found yourself ensnared once more in Vanaheim, having just narrowly escaped the clutches of the Reavers. You had grown distant, offering nothing but a cold shoulder to those around you. Sensing your turmoil, Freyr approached with an earnest expression, gently grasping your shoulder.

“Listen, you need to eat,” he urged, his voice rich with concern.

You recoiled from his touch, your defenses bristling as you met his gaze. “You need to let me go,” you replied sharply, the weight of your captivity heavy in the air between you.

He shook his head firmly, a hint of resolve in his eyes. “No, not until you understand us, my people.”

“You need to let go of what Odin told you.”

You shook your head firmly, determination etched across your features. “You can't convince me to turn my back on Asgard.”

With a gentle yet insistent grip, he took your hand, leading you deeper into the untamed wilderness. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and pine, and the dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy above.

“I understand the pain of loving your people,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “All I'm asking for is for you to see us as more than just enemies.”

He settled onto the forest floor, crossing his legs with a serene demeanor, a warm smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You hesitated for a moment, grappling with your instincts, but ultimately joined him, sinking into the soft, leaf-strewn carpet of earth beside him. The vibrant world around you seemed to recede, leaving only the two of you and the gentle whisper of the trees swaying in the breeze. Freyr took a long, deep breath, the air filled with the scent of pine and damp earth. “Feel it…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glanced around, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Feel what?” you asked, mimicking his posture and closing your eyes, hoping to tap into whatever he sensed.

He chuckled softly, a sound like rustling leaves. “Everything—the trees breathing, the wind dancing through the branches, the leaves brushing against the grass, the hooves of the animals softly disturbing the rich, dark soil, and the water cascading into the mysterious crevices of the caves. But honestly, I’d rather not see a cave again,” he added, laughter lacing his tone, causing you to giggle in response.

Turning your gaze to Freyr, you said, “I think I feel it.” He opened his eyes, regarding you with an earnest, sincere grin. “I know you do. I can feel your heart; you are now a part of the land, my land. Our hearts beat as one,” he declared, his voice rich with meaning.

You laughed, thinking he was jesting. “You say that to every girl?”

Freyr playfully nudged you with his shoulder. “Not to one as beautiful as you, but I’m serious. Just try it.”

You looked up, curiosity blooming within you. “Try what?”

Suddenly, from deep within, you could sense everything; the vibrant life surrounding you reached out, overwhelming your senses. You gasped, your vision blurring as you instinctively fell back against Freyr, seeking his steady presence. “Easy,” he murmured, “let the land embrace you.” Your chest heaved breathing uneven and heavy, but soon you felt in tune and everything was normal but you felt cleansed. Freyr smiled down at you “Better?” You nodded silently, sitting back up. He let go of you. “That was your first Vanir meditation; congrats.” You grimaced. If that was meditation, you’d need to get out of here soon; that was violating.

Freyr rose with an air of purpose, guiding you deeper into the untamed wilderness. As you ventured farther, unease settled in when you spotted the treacherous plants—those ominous blooms that you knew all too well. You’d witnessed the havoc their spores could wreak, but Freyr showed no sign of hesitation, pushing onward and only heightening your anxiety. Yet, curiously, the toxic flora seemed to bow as he passed, almost deferring to the god as he skillfully navigated the rugged terrain.

With a glance back, Freyr caught your eye, a confident smile playing on his lips. “See? The land will protect you if you learn to respect it,” he called out, his voice infused with a wisdom that felt almost tangible in the air around you.

——

Vanaheim was so fresh, it felt humid but it beat the blistering cold in Midgard. You had started to sit with the others, Beyla was chatting about how she thinks animals are spiritual beings.

You spoke up “I—I once had something like that happen but, it probably was just a hallucination.” You said sipping at the beans and rice in your bowl, you put down the bowl watching everyone eyeing you. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand. “Well, you gotta tell us, once you start a story you finish it.”

You laughed, “I haven’t told anyone a story since…a while ago.” You rubbed your hands on your chest “Let’s see, I was looking for something, it was the reason I left uh—Asgard.” Freyr sipped his drink, eyeing you, Lünda hummed “Odin fetch quest?”

You shook your head “No- it was…at my request. I had just been given the role of Protector of Realms.” You shrugged “He gave me ownership of Tyrs temple, it's where I usually rest now.” You told them and they seemed to look at each other “I know, I’m no protector of realms…I never even been out of Midgard.” Beyla nodded “At least you know your place.” Freyr shushed her, slapping her knee. Looking back at you he urged you to continue.

You smiled and continued “An ogre grabbed me. I was at Thamurs corpse and I had willed the ice to melt but I guess I attracted it and it crushed my arm to nothing but brittle. It dropped me, but I had no energy to get up, but then I saw a—leopard.”

Everyone looked at you “In Midgard…a leopard but it could’ve been my imagination, its eyes though…purple…bright. Just like Heimdalls.”

Freyr chuckled “Oh Ho ho! Heimdall, that little prick. Say, where’d you get that scar?” Freyr nodded to you, you glided your finger along your top lip to your chin, “This?” He nodded “Heimdall. He gave it to me, we were being stupid and I pissed him off.” Freyr scoffed, “That prick gets away with anything. He’s an asshole.”

You nodded “Yea he’s an asshole.” Lünda laughed “Cheers to that—-“

“But he didn’t get away with it.” You said leaning back, they looked back at you “All father, when he heard that I had fallen off the wall, he assumed Heimdall pushed me, no…he knew Heimdall didn’t push me. He sees all of Asgard at all times.” You looked at your bowl uninterested and threw it aside.

With a shaky breath and clenching your fist, “He beat him, beat Heimdall but Heimdall walked like he suffered no bruises.” You closed your eyes and rubbed your head tiredly “I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You sighed standing up with a grunt and leaving.

—-

Your last night there in Vanaheim was a night to remember. You and Freyr had grown close, too close.

The night was quiet minus you and freyrs voices. You sighed letting Freyr tattoo a set of runes into the side of your thumb “Freyr, why are you doing this?” He only chuckled, “It’s to protect you when you leave.”

You laid back your hand on his thigh as he poked away then he stopped and you looked at him questionably. He returned your gaze, those deer eyes wide and full of hope “You don’t have to go…” you smiled “You could stay” he said and you laughed “What a terrible idea, a wonderful terrible idea.”

You sat up and looked down at your hands that found their way into holding each other. You looked at him “I’d love to stay, it’s beautiful here but…my heart belongs to Asgard, and not just Asgard but the people in it.”

Freyr frowned, continuing on your tattoo in silence. You felt your heart torn two ways, Vanaheim and Asgard. Gods, you didn’t know that loving another culture could be so painful, so powerful. But it was also the people, even though Freyr was overwhelmingly talkative he was kind, charming, and sweet. Asgard was home…The people, the children, it was your duty to return to them to keep them under your wing shielding them.

—-

Walking out of Vanaheim was as exciting as it was heartbreaking. You had smiled lovingly at the group of friends you made. Beyla came to you “Listen, this place cannot get to Odin.” You furrowed your eyebrows she continued “We wish for peace…please.”

You looked down, sighing before nodding slowly “I will not rat you out to anyone.”

Are you betraying Asgard? No. You were doing your duty, protecting realms.

Suddenly Freyr approached, and you went to speak but he shushed you.

“Listen ‘protector’ you are, stubborn, naive, too trusting, and…you are strong. You care so much for others and I see it, Asgard needs you. It needs you to guide it into a new light into a new life…don’t let go of Asgard. Hold that hope.” He said, pushing a fist into your heart.

Your lip wobbled and you nodded. He smiled “You're a warrior.” You sighed some tears falling pulling the Vanir god into a hug “Thank you for showing me your ways, for offering your resources.”

You looked down seeing Freyr slip a green crystal bracelet on you

You looked at him “what is this?”

“A pretty gift for a pretty girl.”

And after you were pulled back into Midgard. Then it was quiet and you were alone…again.

——-

You snapped back to the present and in front of you was a group of Asgardian and Midgardian kids, too young to be any of your trainees.

You smiled “Hi kids, sorry I was zoned out.”

Torrence stepped up pointing at Heimdall as he prepared the horse. “Are you and Heimdall leaving?” You looked at her smiling “Yes, only for a few days.”

Everyone looked down and you looked at them concerned “What? What’s the matter?” You looked over to little noën. He was just four and such a bright boy. You picked him up, he sniffled “Who’s gonna be here to protect us when you and Heimdall are gone?” He sobbed and you shushed him, kissing his cheek softly.

“Nothing is going to happen, because Heimdall has super hearing and we’ll come running if you holler for us.” You said tickling him, he squealed and the other kids started laughing.

Heimdall came up to the group, the kids turning to him and looking into his eyes, he chuckled seeing the way they shrunk “you all aren’t supposed to be here.” They looked down clasping their hands “Please don’t tell our mamas Heimy!” One of them pleaded.

you chuckled “Heimy?” You asked and he groaned glaring down at the kids “Run along now, and Maybe I won’t tell.” The kids looked back to you “Before you go can you tell us another story, we haven’t asked you for two days.” You were about to tell them but Heimdall shook his head “No time for that and it’s getting dark, run along.” He said sternly.

You whispered, “We have time for a small story.” Heimdall rolled his eyes sitting down on a stone next to you crossing his leg over the other. The kids all huddled in front of you. You tapped your chin “Let’s see, oh! How about this huh?” You said and pointed at the golden charm that hung from your ear. The kids cringed, “It’s just an earring.” You chuckled and grabbed onto the air around your ear your earring started to glow flakes of gold flying around your hand and you started to pull away a long bronze with golden adornments on the end staff the kids shook with excitement and Heimdalls eyes went wide watching

In the children's eyes, you saw your own glowing a bright golden color making them gasp you smiled the staff hitting the ground with a soft vibration. “What is it?” You smiled

“Lean in close, 'cause this story is a long one.” Heimdall smiled as the kids sat down in front of you.

—-----------

You had approached a cave, the water trailing into it called you to it, and you were searching for something, that last blank weapon space on the wall. You had been looking at that weapon wall for so long that it started to itch your brain. Then you heard it, drops…dripping of water hitting something that rang in your mind like a gong. and the sound was close, here, in Midgard.

The cave loomed before you, its entrance a gaping maw that swallowed the faint light of day. Darkness clung to the damp stone walls, and an uneasy thrill raced through your veins, making your heart pound like a drum. Water trickled inside, echoing softly, a reminder of nature's presence, but you understood the peril that lay within this shadowy refuge.

Taking a long, steadying breath, you peeled off your top, the biting cold of the falling snow making your skin prickle and shudder. With a mindful sense of trepidation, you laid yourself flat on your stomach, the rough ground pressing against you. Slowly, you began to crawl forward, inching into the cave’s depths. Each deep breath brought a slight expansion of your ribs, reminding you of your fragility. Your back brushed against the rocky ceiling, reminding you just how confined this space was, each movement accompanied by the distant sound of water dripping into a hidden abyss.

It got tight, so tight you started to have water covering half of your face you, felt panic rise, you could move back but, the water continued. You clenched your eyes and pushed through more, your mind pounding with a headache dripping louder.

ring…ring…ring.

As you pressed onward, the narrow confines of the cave opened up into a breathtaking expanse. Lifting your gaze, you were greeted by a grand opening above, revealing a hidden oasis, seemingly untouched by fumblwintr. Sunlight filtered through the vibrant green vines that cascaded from the rock face, illuminating the scene with a warm glow. At the center of this natural sanctuary stood a magnificent tree, its branches stretching out like welcoming arms. Anchored firmly in the rich, dark soil was a staff, resolutely upright, as if guarding the secrets of this enchanting realm.

—------

“Ring…ring…ring.”

You smiled watching how the kids looked at you as you tapped the end of the staff against the stone. A boy lifted his arms “What happened when you grabbed it?!” he exclaimed and Heimdall shook his head “You have to let someone tell the story.” the boy pouted. You chuckled and continued “When i approached it the water had washed away leaving me with the staff.”

—---

You cautiously walked around the staff, assessing whether it was too delicate to be pulled from the earth. After a minute of deliberation, you decided to take the plunge, gripping it with both hands. With a grunt, you cursed under your breath as you pulled with all your might. Finally, with a satisfying sigh, you managed to wrench it free from the stubborn grip of the ground.

As you examined the staff, tracing your fingers over its intricately carved surface, an unexpected reaction occurred. Without warning, it began to extend, sending you hurtling upward into the crisp, cold air. A scream escaped your lips as you watched the snowy ground rush toward you with alarming speed. Instinctively, you aimed the staff downward, plunging it into the snow. The impact slowed your descent, causing you to tip over and land softly in the powdery snow, creating a small cloud around you as you fell.

Sitting up, you stared at the staff lying beside you, its carved forms glinting in the pale light. Heart pounding, you instinctively dropped it and took a few fearful steps back, giving yourself space as uncertainty settled in. Although a part of you wanted to walk away, another part tugged at your curiosity. Reluctantly, you turned back, grasping the staff again, holding it sideways as if expecting it to spring to life once more. Gripping it tightly, you felt a surge of adrenaline mixed with fear, acutely aware of its unpredictable nature.

Drawing a shaky breath, you steadied yourself and declared, “I’m not your enemy, nor am I your owner. I’m here to return you home.” The words lingered in the air, a challenge to the staff and a promise to yourself. You grunted as the handle seemed to burn almost feeling like icy hot fir was seeping into your bones your mouth opened and you let out a shocked breath of pain as you scrunched your nose shutting your eyes, then it stopped opening your eyes you saw the way the staff had disappeared but it didn't and instead it was a small charm in your hand.

—-

You were cut off by little Torrence, “No way that stick extends that strongly!” She yelled and you smiled at her smashing the Staff on the ground, and it was suddenly thrust from your hand high into the sky making the kids scream looking up for it when it hit the ground next to them with a loud resonating ring. Torrence sat back down silently shutting up. Heimdall chuckled and put a hand up towards you, you looked over confused before smiling widely, hitting his hand with a clap. You sighed opening your hand to the staff flying towards you all and before the kids had time to react the staff turned into the earring charm and you clasped it on your ear.

—-

You approached tyr's weapon wall and held the staff up to it but then it wouldn’t move, almost like it was begging not to sit any longer, to stay with you. It longed to be used…

—-

You smiled at the kids “And that’s really the end of it.” The kids nodded “So, how do you fight with it?” You smiled “Well I hit things with it obviously.” They sighed, Heimdall clicked his tongue grabbing their attention and with a stern gaze they all got up sadly ��Bye…”

The group ran off home but in front of you sat a little black haired boy, you knew this kid he didn’t speak. Heimdall looked at him and you both looked at each other shrugging. You picked him up and he leaned in playing with the earring, his eyes full of wonder.

You were an amazing storyteller

Heimdall sat beside you, his gaze softening as he looked down at the boy. “It’s time to return home, little one,” he said gently, cradling the boy in his arms. With a tender touch, he slipped a small golden piece of his armor onto the boy's wrist. “This carries powerful magic,” he whispered, a playful smile creeping onto his face. “Better than hers.” The boy gasped in delight, bursting into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around Heimdall, who remained stoic, caught off guard by the boy’s affection, before the child dashed off, laughter trailing behind him.

You chuckled, shaking your head in admiration. “You have a way with them, you know?”

Heimdall sighed, shaking his head in response. “I have to be,” he replied, his voice low. “I see every memory, every fear—the arguments their parents have, the moments they stumble and fall, the burning pain on their knees from the wounds.” A weight lingered in his words, a deep understanding of the fragile burdens each child carries. Heimdall cracked his neck “They're horrible to be around though.” You giggled and got up walking to the now prepared horse, and since it was Heimdalls, it would be extra dramatic.

The horse breathed excitedly the light armour on it jingled softly with golden accents of silver-blue armor. It almost matched you both.

You smiled and hopped on the horse moving forward you held onto the saddlehorn and breathed it in, it felt like when your father got you your first horse. You looked at Heimdall as he climbed up behind you. You felt his arms around your stomach, leaning in he whispered

“Lead the way sunshine.”

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

Im back

@slaying69696969 @library-viking

#writing #fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #heimdall x reader #heimdall #heimdall god of war #heimdall/reader #heimdall gow #god of war ragnarok #god of war x reader #god of war ragnorak

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