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tpwkwriter · 1 year

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helloooo, you are like one of my fave writers!! I am requesting one with lhh where the reader feels very insecure and harry is comforting her and telling her she is absolutely beautiful and how in love he is with her and how he remembers the first time he saw her he knew she was the one and that he had never seen any one so breathtaking. And then they start kissing and it slowly escalates till harry tells he "let me show you how beautiful you are" or smth like that i dont really know and then the after careeee!!! OMG I WOULD DIEEE. Could you please write that?? THANK YOUUU!!!

Baby your perfect.

Omg! Thank you for your lovely words it always means the world 🤭

And yessss! This concept!! 🫢 and lhh 😩

Im a tad sucky on writing smut/smutty-ish stuff so I hope this works for you and you enjoy! 🤎

Also this absolutely no hate to any of these women mentioned!!!! Especially Kendall Jenner/kardashians for story purposes only!! 👑

*Warnings*- struggling with body image, low self esteem, language, hint towards smut and adultish themes! ✌🏻

Y/n’s Life had felt like it’s been on the right track for a while now.

She’s finally enjoying her career, her friendships have never been better, her relationship with H is the her pride and joy, hence them nearing there 5 year anniversary.

The only downside to all of this is her social media.

Ever since a young age y/n struggled with social media and unrealistic beauty standards.

And when your boyfriends exes include the Looks of: Kendall Jenner, Taylor swift, Camille rowe, that feeling of ‘Not good enough’ Never really goes away.

Y/n found herself in there shared bathroom gazing at the mirror before her wondering why she looked the way she did.

She really wondered what H saw in her, all the models and actresses and he chose her.

She examined her body, suddenly getting this feeling that she felt when she was 15 wondering why she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls in school.

Apart from she was and she didn’t even know.

She spotted every insecurity, from the stretch marks around her hips, to the scars and marks she developed on her body.

Tears begun to form in the corner of her eyes, her reflection became unbearable.

She wanted to forget this night had even started like this.

She cosied in her shared bed awaiting Harry’s return from the studio, she pulled out her phone ready to text her love, when her twitter notifications distracted her.

Mistakenly she clicked on the app, and was left feeling lower then she already had.

“Former kardashian and Jenner star admitted to pleading for another chance with singer and songwriter Harry styles!”

She clicked on the thread to be greeted with many images and gifs of her.

Her perfect figure, eyes, face, everything, she had everything.

And that’s what Harry deserved, he deserves it all.

Without even thinking y/n finds herself angrily throwing her brush against the wall out of anger.

“Baby?” A familiar voice called.

‘Fuck’ she though to herself.

He’s home

“Y’alright darling” he said, voice getting louder and closer.

“M’Fine” she sighed, trying her best to hide her tears.

There shared room door gets pushed open.

“Baby” he gently Said.

“H”

“What’s going on?” He said placing his jacket on the back of the vanity chair and toeing his trainers off.

“Nothing” she said forcing a smile to persuade the man.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing” he said raising an eyebrow and joining her next to her on the bed.

She remained quiet, thinking of how to play this out.

“Baby, Jus’ me y’know its okay” he said running a hand through his long curly locks.

“I don’t understand why your with me” she breathes, avoiding eye contact.

“Y/n?” He asked confused as hell.

“Baby, where is this Coming from? What?” He asks placing his ringed hand on her exposed thigh.

“You don’t deserve me H” she said finally breathed making cold eye contact with him.

“You deserve someone prettier, skinner, and overall better, than..whatever i am” she Said tears threatening to leave her eyes.

“Baby Girl” he asks manoeuvring his palms up to girls cheeks and pulling her in closer.

“Where is this coming from?, y’my girl, my gorgeous girl” he said heart almost breaking at the sight and sound of his girl.

“Kendall” she mumbles, tears finally falling.

“Kendall?” He asks eyebrows knitted together.

“She wants You back H, and now the whole world knows it” she quietly cries leaning her forehead on his.

He finally gets it, it adds up all in his head.

“Baby” he speaks, pressing a kiss to her cold lips.

“Fuckin’ hell” he says kissing her cheek replacing the salty tears.

“Y’really think, I want her huh?” He smiles

“My silly girl” he sniffs, trying to make light of this situation.

He removes his hands and opened his arms signalling for her to get in.

She sits on his lap, almost koala style with both legs wrapped around his waist and both arms over his shoulders.

“Now that you’ve got me, y’won’t be getting rid of me” he said dancing his fingertips on her back.

“I just…I don’t get it” she sniffed

“Why me” she mumbled, snuggling her face into his neck.

“Why you huh?” He breathed

“Well, the first time saw you, the thing I saw was not only y’beauty, but m’future, m’life, Ive Never met someone as breathtaking as you m’love Call me a sap, but y’my muse now” he gently said.

“Not Kendall, Not no one else, jus’ you” he said kissing the side of Face.

“Can y’look at me darling?” He whispered.

She happily complied, lifting her face from his neck and revealing her beautiful glossy eyes but now with a small smile to her face.

“I love you” he says kissing her lips hard and straight forward.

“Y’never to forget that”

“Love you too H, I’m sorry for being silly” she smiles

“None of tha’ i get it”

Without being able to finish properly, the girl crashes her lips on his.

“I’m so in love with you” she mumbles against his lips.

“Y’make me crazy baby” he smirks

“Please Baby, let me Show you How much y’mean to me” he says going in again.

“Show How beautiful You Are angel”

“Mmhmm” she nods

— — — — —

The Girl lies hazily in there bathtub of there en-suite bathroom, reminiscing on tonight’s events.

God she was grateful to have H, no matter what rut she finds herself in, he manages to no matter what pull her out.

“Hey beautiful girl” he said coming in pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Fresh sheets and tea on the bedside” he said while placing the girls fresh Pyjamas ( his hoodie and Boxers) on the closed toilet lid.

“Thank you baby”

“I’ll join you in a sec” she added

“Take y’time love”

Once y/n’s bath was done, she slipped into her boyfriends clothes he prepared for her, and reunited with her lover in there shared bed.

“Y’feeling okay m’honey?” He asks putting his phone down and leaning into his girl.

“Mmhmm” she hummed slipping under the soft sheets.

“Y’the best” she sighed.

“Mm certainly am” he smirked.

“Ugh great I just fed your ego more” she joked playfully rolling her eyes.

“There’s my y/n back” he smiled pressing a kiss to her temple.

— — — — —

Again thank your for your request and please, please tell me of this is any good! 😩 again I’m sorry for skimming the smutty Part Bit im so awkward writing it 😭 love love loveeee you all ❤️

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godadorgohome · 7 months

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~*Spicy*~ Alphabet with Father Gabriele Amorth (as played by Russel Crowe)!

this character is consuming my life and I needed to get this out of my system ok

Also I'm so sorry I forgot who came up with the idea for a nuhsufwuh alphabet so if anyone remembers please tell me so I can credit them!!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) There's always a little bit of guilt... everything he does with you has to be in secret, or he risks his livelihood. Despite the guilt, perhaps because of it, he is tender after you're done, especially if he used you roughly during. Which happens whenever he's been without you for a while, or he's had a particularly irritating meeting with the cardinals. He will kiss you all over: lips, jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, lower, lower, even while he's still panting like a bull and his cock hasn't even slipped out of you yet. His hands are big, rough (for a priest) and hot, but they glide over your skin like seabirds skimming the ocean surface, resting lightly on places he's gripped too tightly or bore down too hard, as if to apologize... or heal with a holy touch.

The rest under a cut for length!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Being a Catholic priest, his own body isn't much on his mind. When it is, it's usually about how it has aged, how it isn't as spry as it used to be, and how it was damaged long ago in the war. Or not so long ago, by a particulary energetic wrestling match with a demon. If anyone but you asked him, he'd say his favorite 'body part' is his brain. If you asked him, you who have seen him naked more often than his mother has, he'd say his hands. Oh, the absolutely sinful sounds he can draw from you with those hands. It took him a while to learn, because the last time he laid hands on someone else's body, he was a much younger man, but he learned quickly enough.

His favorite body part of yours depends on what you have showing... and what you don't. He's partial to the little cup-shaped hollow where your collarbone meets the tendons of your neck, and he loves it when you wear shirts with the collar just open enough for him to see it. All the better when you wear the cross he gave you as a gift, because it rests in that hollow. He doesn't know whether to kiss that spot, and the cross that rests there, for hours, or rip your shirt away from it with his teeth, force you against the nearest wall, and mount you right there.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically) It's quite a thing for a Catholic priest to have a breeding kink, but he does. He would never get you or anyone else pregnant for real, of course, but the allure of fucking your hole raw, pumping you full of his cum, filling you up with as much as you can handle and more, until it's leaking out around his pulsing cock and stretching your belly taut, is the one fantasy that can get him off in seconds, it seems. He loves watching himself come, especially if it's on you: on your stomach, your ass, your legs... as close as he can get it to where it matters. Of course he loves watching his cum ooze down your chin after he fucks your face, but a lot of times it doesn't even have a chance because he just shoots his load straight down your throat. Especially when it's a restrained, silent fuck in one corner of the church or another.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) You're the dirty secret he's actually proud of. There are more priests with far more active sex lives than the Church would ever know, let alone admit to (and they assume some priests do anyway). But you... you're not some waylaid nun, poor abused choirboy, or hapless parishioner. You're very much your own person, and he had to work for you. You didn't make it easy, and he enjoyed the getting of you almost as much as he enjoyed the gotcha.

Other than you, a dirty little secret he hasn't even spoken to the heaven-scented darkness of the confession booth is the flip side of his breeding kink: that he craves to know what it's like to be mounted by someone, to be bent over a pew, have his cassock flung over his back, his trousers ripped down, and to be fucked like a bitch in heat, to be bred until he's so full of someone else's come that he can barely stand, and when he does it runs in rivers down his legs and soaks his trousers. And then whoever fucked him raw makes him stand, pulls his cassock back down to hide the evidence, and shoves him out in front of a full congregation, to deliver a Mass right then and there. Oh, and a couple of Cardinals are in the front row.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Father Amorth is a curious mix of experienced and inexperienced; he didn't enter the priesthood right away, but the last sexual partner he had was more than 30 years ago. He made it almost all the way through his entire career as a priest without slipping, but then you came along. After an initial, ah, training period, he got good at pleasing you. Very good. After all, he's an intelligent man, and he learns quickly.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying) Any position in which he can watch your face as you come. He'd never tell you this, but he thinks you look positively enraptured when you do, and to know he's responsible for bringing you such heights of (earthly) pleasure always sets him off too.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.) He can't seem to stop cracking jokes, even in the middle of sex, until some switch inside him flips the breeding kink on. Then rills of grunted, rumbly Italian run out of his mouth like drool, and even if you know what he's saying, it's half-coherent anyway. But once his balls are empty, he's back to gently teasing you and making you groan-laugh with some absolute category-5 dad jokes. It's like he hides joke books in his Bibles or something.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) His office is in the Vatican, so he has to be well-groomed. Though his beard is almost completely grey by now, he keeps it because he likes it... and because you like it. Under his cassock and clothes, he's a big, hairy man, which has caused him a little shame in the past. But you love the way he looks, and tell him so every chance you get, so you're slowly but surely curing him of any shame he feels when the armor of his office comes off. He's even coming to appreciate the little curls of grey hair that are coming through on his chest and belly.. and below the belt.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) An alternate title for every Catholic priest may as well be Touch-Starved. He's got a job that is his life, and it often takes him away from you. Even when you're both in the same place, it's often a public place, and he can't even hold your hand without risking, at least, a rumor mill that turns so vigorously, within an institution hypervigilant against the sins of its own clergy, that might get him kicked out for nothing more than a whispered word in the right ear.

So when you're in public together, when he can look but mustn't touch, you feel the heavy itch of his gaze on you, those hooded blue eyes seeming to burn your clothes away and the expression on his face too subtle to be readable to anyone but you: oh when I get you alone...

And when he does get you alone, he makes good on his threat. Even if it doesn't immediately lead to sex, he is all over you; he can't decide whether he wants to clutch you close and suck in deep breaths of your smell, or run his hands over every inch of you. His lips and tongue wander as widely as his hands do; often the electricity of his kisses on your skin draws little hurt-animal noises out of you that he must silence with a quick, heavy hand over your mouth. He craves you even after you've gone four times in one night and you both are almost too exhausted to move; he always has energy enough to draw you close, to squeeze you to him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) Every sexual act that's not sex with the intent of procreation is considered, at best, a morally disordered act according to the Church. But that hasn't stopped generations and generations of Catholics, and it doesn't stop Father Amorth. When he's apart from you, he's holding back days of missing you on top of over thirty years of celibacy, so most nights he wakes up either hard or with his pajamas covered in come. And that's after he jacks off once, maybe twice, before he goes to sleep.

If he wants to get off quick and nasty, his go-to fantasy is getting fucked (see Dirty Secret). But if he has an hour or two to himself, he'll want to take it slower (but not much because, well, thirty years of celibacy). His favorite fantasy for that is you with your cute ass in the air, panting and begging him, almost in tears from how badly you want him, to fuck you until you're bursting at the seams with his come.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) See Dirty Secret. Also: body worship! See Motivation.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) He's actually not fond of fucking in church, because there's too many opportunities to get caught and he is actually a devout man. Fucking in front of the Savior on the cross, under the Holy Mother's gaze, rubs him a little too wrong. He'd rather be with you as far away from the Vatican as possible, but occasionally it does turn him on a little to think of sneaking you into his office. Mostly, though, if given his pick of places, it'd be a nice big bed. I guess you could say he's a traditionalist. Or maybe he's just an old man and his back hurts.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) You, first and foremost. He's forgotten how delicious the pleasures of the flesh can be, and he never knew those pleasures could feel so sinless, so sublime, as they do on your skin. Amorth's sexual preferences are a curious mix of things that blur the line between religion and secularity and things that carve that line into stone. Body worship is one of the things that blurs the line. He kneels at your feet like you're both altar and the loving god it's built for; he repeats your name like a verse from the Song of Songs. His hands traverse your curves with soft reverence, but behind their gentleness you sense the trembling need to grip and cling and hold. He could spend-- and has spent-- hours letting his lips and hands learn you, and it never seems to be enough, because he always wants more.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Plenty of people, both possessed and simply ill, have stripped naked in front of him and have taunted him with their flesh. A few nuns have gotten indecent with him, and even a couple of villagers have offered their teenage children to him on the sly, as payment for exorcising a loved one. But taking favors like this is something he will, under no circumstances, do. It not only degrades him and them before God, but it makes a mockery of the simple sanctity of human connection.

You once floated the idea of him choking you with a rosary during sex, and he looked at you like you'd grown a second head (hey, you tried). Basically, he prefers to keep business and pleasure, separate. His career depends on it.

Don't expect him to be into super-heavy BDSM either. Catholics flagellate themselves enough without ballgags and gimpsuits anyway.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He will eat whatever you put in front of him, with deep, rumbling relish. You were his first after a very long time, so he was a little rusty until you could train him up right. I feel like there's a taking-Communion joke in there somewhere.

He loves receiving as well, especially when you grab his balls and hold, not tight enough to cause real pain but juuust to the left of pleasurable. Especially especially if he can watch his cock disappear down your throat.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual, etc.) That depends on how long he's been without you. Although sometimes, even though he's pushing 60, you really do think he's trying to cram years' worth of missed fucks into a single night, and he goes and goes--implacabile--until you're both raw and shaking with spent effort. At other times, especially when he's worshipping your body, the transition from loving touch to sex is as subconscious as taking the next breath. Those gentle, slow hours really are hours; sometimes he stops just to look at you; to wonder that you're there with him at all.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) Sometimes a quickie is all he can get; he's a busy man, so unless he deliberately takes time off (which he does more and more with you around), he can only see you in between trips to and from the Vatican and wherever the next exorcism is. It's almost like he's a marathoner and you're the fuel station at which he stops, breathless and harried, thirsty and needful, along the way. He's grateful for the longer breaks with you though, for the days when you only put on clothes long enough to walk down the street for coffee and lunch. He doesn't have the greatest stamina in the world, but he makes up for it by filling the time between fucks with, well, anything you ask of him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) He's more open to experimentation than you'd guess a Catholic priest would be, but then again over 30 years of celibacy Does Things to a man. He'll maybe work around to asking you to peg him... eventually. Maybe. When he's drunk. Really, really drunk. But there's a lot of ground between here and there, and he enjoys learning about and indulging your kinks, as long as they don't cross his lines (see 'No'). It's going to take you a while to get him to crack on fucking in a confession booth, but he'll probably get there before he gets around to pegging. The only times he's fucked you in a church (few and far between), it's been one where nobody knows either of you, and you've been teasing him for hours. He can't help it. It's quick, mostly clothed, and as silent as he can make it with his hand clamped over your mouth. Which isn't really the issue; he grunts and pants and breathes like a bull.

Though he's very risk-averse in terms of his reputation and his job, he does harbor a secret desire to fuck where you could be found out, to 'forget' to lock the door to his office or pull you into a passionate kiss in the middle of St Peter's Plaza. Maybe he will one day; he doesn't like that he has to keep you a secret. And he's gotta retire someday, right?

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) The first time he sees you after a long trip or a busy stint is, well... let's say he doesn't have time to work up a sweat. But usually he can spring back to life in a half hour or so, and his stamina for the second, third, and potentially fourth rounds has less to do with how long he can keep his dick up and more to do with how physically exhausted he gets. Exorcism, when it's actually an exorcism, can be physically demanding, and frequent travel is hard on anybody. But the sweet spot is the second round, when he's got most of his energy and has gotten the first oh-my-god-i-missed-you-so-much fuck out of his system. Especially if he takes breaks to give you oral, he can stretch it out to more than an hour.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Before you, he never owned any toys. He only owns a few, and they're all for you, all your favorites.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He can't physically tease you out in public, but he makes up for it with as much body language as he dares: long, loaded looks which make it exquisitely clear just how much fun he's having undressing and fucking you with his eyes. He'll lean in just a little too close, his nose inches from your neck, as he reads the coffee menu over your shoulder. He'll leave a hand on the small of your back just a little too long on a walk through town. He'll catch your eye and wink, the smile making crows feet spread to his temples small and only for you. His jokes, as bad as they are, are somehow a turn-on too. He's good at sideswiping you with compliments and casual innuendos that others don't pick up on the way you do. The one he hit you with when you first met was a damn tactical strike. He'd said you'd look cute dressed for the Vatican, but you'd blown him off. Stuffy clothes, too many rules for you. Didn't look like fun, you'd said, furiously trying to hide how badly you'd been blushing. He, missing nothing, had shrugged in a very Italian oh-well gesture, “Well, the people who spend time with me seem to have fun.”

Weeks later, in the sex-scented dimness of your bedroom, you'd asked him about it, and he admitted that was a huge bluff. “But it worked.” He deserved the flung pillow at his head.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) At his quietest, he's still not silent by any stretch of the imagination (see Risk), especially when it's the first time he's got you naked after a while. The sounds he makes are deep and rough and growly, but even in the privacy of a secret place, you can tell he's holding back some. He doesn't talk much during sex at first, but once you unlock his breeding kink (and some of your preferences and kinks), he'll say anything you want him to say. In the thick of it, his voice is strained and raspy, as if he's fraying at the edges and nearly overwhelmed by it all. If he speaks your language around you, he'll slip into rumbling Italian that sounds like an earthquake in his chest. It's still not loud, though, but one day you'll get him to really cut loose and roar like the bear he is.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) He can sing quite well. While he was in seminary, he volunteered for the men's choir and became lead baritone (and soloist) in a year. He loves Dire Straits, Bob Dylan, Sam Cooke, and, unfortunately, Steppenwolf. Pobody's nerfect.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) He's a grower, not a shower. Nothing out of the ordinary when it's soft, but beneath that belly is a nice thick cock when it's hard. It's not long enough to hurt when he fucks you deep, but it is thick enough to make you feel oh so deliciously full. His balls are heavy and hang low, which is its own kind of delicious feeling when he's fucking you from behind and they slap against you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Thirty years of celibacy has made him good at containing himself, but it has done his libido no favors. You'd think, even with thirty years of pent-up drive, at nearly sixty he'd be wanting to slow down a little. But on some nights that feel dizzily eternal, with the whole world spun down to a cocoon around you both, the only thing that stops him is your whimpered, gasping "please..."

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) That depends on how many times you've gone and how tired he is before you start. But even at the very end of his energy, he'll stay awake long enough to make sure you're properly asleep (cuddled up next to him, no other way to make it Proper) or, ah, satisfied. He always wants to be the last thing you see when you close your eyes.

#father gabriele amorth #gabriele amorth #russell crowe #the pope's exorcist #my writes #headcanons #imagines #OH MY GOD THAT'S OUT OF MY SYSTEM now to finish plotting the 2 longer fics and 2 oneshots i have for this man please kill me

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kloppool · 2 months

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writing a mini essay on why this is a top 3 klopp game as we speak

#my writes

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sukuna-dees-nuts · 3 months

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human earthworm 4

I saw this cute art by @dontronick and I had to write about it. This is my first JJK writes post, I hope you enjoy! <3

Summary: Yuji takes his friends to the movies and it's an experience.

Word count: 1.5k

---

“C’mon, guys! It’ll be fun!” Yuji begs.

Nobara snorts humorlessly, not looking up as she examines her nails. Megumi also says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone. They’re sitting on the couch in Gojo’s living room since the man is out for the day, thankfully. No doubt Gojo would invite himself if he knew their plans.

“Nothing named ‘Human Earthworm’ sounds fun,” Nobara finally responds. She crosses her arms over her chest and props her feet up on the coffee table, copying Megumi’s lax position. “I haven't even seen the first three, why would I want to see the fourth?”

Nobara hears a sniffle and when she looks up, she’s met with Yuji’s signature puppy dog eyes, paired with a protruding bottom lip.

“Please?” Yuji whines, dramatically draping himself across both Nobara and Megumi’s legs to get their full attention. His head lands in Megumi’s lap. Megumi makes the mistake of glancing away from his phone and down at Yuji, taking in his sad eyes and pouty lips. “I never ask you guys to do anything!” he adds.

This is true. Yuji is as selfless as they come. He's always willing to be dragged anywhere with Megumi and Nobara (mostly the latter, Megumi hardly goes anywhere unless he's forced), and he rarely complains about it.

The longer Yuji stares at Megumi, the more his reserve begins to crack. Not that it was very strong in the first place. He’s always had a difficult time saying no to Yuji, *especially* when he gives those stupid puppy eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Megumi groans in forfeit. He covers Yuji's eyes. “Just stop looking at me like that.”

Yuji grins excitedly though he makes no move to get up. With Megumi’s hand still covering his eyes, he misses the unimpressed look Nobara shoots Megumi’s way. The two stare at each other, holding a silent conversation before Nobara huffs and shakes her head.

”Fine, I'll go too,” she relents. Yuji's arms shoot up in victory.

“Yes!”

Nobara shoves him off her lap, and he loses balance, slipping off Megumi’s as well. He lands on the floor with an *”oof”* but it does nothing to crush his excitement.

“But don't expect me to enjoy myself!”

---

Yuji is so excited when they pull up to the theater, practically bouncing in his seat. He's been waiting forever to see this movie. When he sees Junpei standing by the front entrance, Yuji waves enthusiastically.

“Junpei!”

The other boy looks up at the sound of his name and sees Yuji making his way over, followed by two others. Yuji throws his arm around Junpei's shoulders.

“Junpei, I want you to meet my friends Megumi and Nobara.” He gestures to them respectively, then gestures back to Junpei. “Guys, I want you to meet Junpei.”

Junpei smiles nervously at the other two. Megumi's hands are shoved in his pockets, but he gives Junpei a nod in acknowledgment. Nobara, on the other hand, places her fists on her hips as she looks Junpei over. Her gaze makes Junpei want to melt into the ground.

“Are you the one that suggested this movie?” she asks.

“Uh-” Junpei stammers. “Y-yeah.” He reaches up and scratches the back of his head.

Before she can say anything else, Yuji removes himself from Junpei’s shoulders and motions for his friends to follow him. “Let's go get popcorn so we can find a good seat!”

He turns on his heels to head inside the theater. Once their tickets are purchased (Yuji insisted that he pay for them since he dragged them out), the four walk up to the concession counter. Yuji orders a large popcorn and a fountain drink, asking his friends if they want anything either. Nobara gets a box of Skittles, Junpei gets a slushie, and Megumi shakes his head, indicating that he doesn't want anything. Just as Yuji is pulling out his wallet to pay, Megumi is already tapping Gojo’s credit card on the card reader.

“You didn't have to do that, I could've paid.” Yuji nudges his friend.

Megumi shrugs, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “It’s Gojo’s money. He was feeling generous today.”

Yuji laughs and hands Nobara her Skittles. Junpei grabs the drinks while Yuji grabs his popcorn. The four of them head to the directed theater, which is unsurprisingly empty.

They sit in the middle, Junpei on Yuji's left, Megumi on Yuji's right, and Nobara on the other side of Megumi. She's already pulled out her phone, thumbs tapping away. With the popcorn in Yuji's lap, he munches happily, offering some to Megumi and then Junpei.

“Do your friends like horror movies?” Junpei asks quietly, playing with the straw of his drink.

Mouth full of popcorn, Yuji shrugs. “I'unno.” Instantly he turns to Megumi and nudges him with his elbow. “Junpei wanfs to-”

Megumi holds up a hand to interrupt. “Swallow before you start speaking, for the love of God. You're as bad as Gojo sometimes.”

Junpei chuckles and on the other side of Megumi, he hears Nobara snort. “Where do you think he learns it from?”

Yuji smiles sheepishly and finishes the popcorn in his mouth. “Junpei was just wondering if you guys like horror movies?”

“Does this one even qualify as a horror movie?” Nobara asks, looking up from her phone. “Isn't it about a Human Earthworm that finds love?”

“Yeah!” Yuji laughs.

The lights begin to dim and Yuji turns his attention to the screen, wiggling in his seat eagerly. He shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth. Glancing to the side, he catches Nobara still on her phone and he throws a piece of popcorn at her.

“Put your phone away,” he hisses at her. Rolling her eyes, Nobara pockets her phone regardless, crossing her arms over her chest as she sits back in the seat.

As the movie plays, Yuji becomes so enthralled that he doesn’t notice Nobara pulling her phone back out of her pocket, dimming the screen as she texts someone else. He leans forward, placing the popcorn bucket next to his feet, eyes glued to the screen. He misses the bemused expressions on Megumi and Nobara’s faces as they turn to look at each other, wondering what the hell is this movie and why did they agree to come.

Nobara’s lip perpetually stays curled up in disgust as she flicks her eyes to the screen before her thumbs tap away at her phone. Megumi seems outright annoyed that he’s wasted his time coming to this stupid film. He glances over to Junpei over Yuji’s shoulders. Junpei makes the mistake of looking to the side, meeting Megumi’s displeased expression.

He shoots Megumi a nervous smile and turns back to the screen as he wrings his hands nervously in his lap. Yuji is oblivious to the exchange, enjoying the movie to its fullest even though each of his friends would prefer to be anywhere else.

The movie eventually comes to an end and the four teenagers file out of the theater. Yuji stretches his arms above his head.

“Well, what did you guys think?” he asks, looking between his three friends.

“Worst movie I’ve ever seen,” says Nobara.

“I would’ve rather watched the Paw Patrol movie with Gojo,” Megumi deadpans.

Yuji grimaces and he looks to Junpei, waiting expectantly for his answer.

Junpei hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck before answering, “I think number three was better…”

Nobara shakes her head and heads toward the exit. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into going. Wasted two and a half hours on that! The directors should be ashamed of this franchise.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad!” Yuji exclaims. “You just don’t appreciate good cinema—ow!” Nobara smacks him in the back of the head, effectively cutting him off. He rubs the back of his head and frowns.

Megumi sighs heavily as the other two settle into an argument. He glances at Junpei next to him, who’s watching Yuji and Nobara squabble like siblings. His eyebrows pull together in concern.

“Um—”

“That’s normal,” Megumi sighs again, answering Junpei’s question before it’s even asked. A beat of silence passes between them. “Thanks for letting Nobara and I tag along. Yuji really wanted us to meet you and I guess he thought this movie was the best place to do that.”

Junpei chuckles nervously. “Ah, yeah. I’m sorry this had to be your first ‘Human Earthworm’ experience.”

“Next time, Nobara or I can pick the movie,” Megumi says, the corner of his mouth lifting for a small smile. He claps Junpei on the shoulder before walking off in the direction of his car, motioning for Nobara and Yuji to follow. Immediately, Nobara makes a break for the passenger seat and Yuji lets her in exchange for turning around and walking backwards, giving Junpei a big wave.

“Bye, Junpei! See you later! I’ll text you more about the movie tonight, okay?”

Of course, Yuji isn’t watching where he’s going and trips. His arms flail outward and he’s lucky for Megumi grabbing onto the front of his sweatshirt and pulling him upright to his feet. A bright smile breaks over Yuji’s face and he laughs, waving at Junpei one more time before turning around again, nudging Megumi as he shakes his head.

#jjk #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #junpei yoshino #itafushi if you squint #my writes #i had so much fun writing this #i love megumi using gojo's credit card lmao #that was my friend's suggestion #echo writes

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meridianbarony · 1 year

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WHEN I TELL YOU THIS COMMENT MADE ME SCREECH IN DELIGHT- and then i looked up and had made this meme. random_fandom_phantom, this made my day, you’re the best 😂

Oh and for the rest of you, I updated What to Expect today. ♥

Happy new year!

#transformers #mechpreg #my writes #baby robots: my one weakness #whirl #Fic #memery #fic comment #heed the tags if you've not seen my incessant posting about it already yeah #this meme is almost unrecognizable and it still cracks me up

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alumikyo · 10 months

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The Fear of the Past

Yandere!Barry Allen x reader

Chapter 2

The next day, [Y/N] couldn't shake off the fear that had taken root in her heart. She entered the café with caution, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Barry's presence. Every customer became a potential threat, and she was on high alert.

When the time neared for Barry's usual entrance, [Y/N] swiftly retreated to the backroom, leaving someone else to handle her job until he left. She couldn't risk encountering him again, not after the darkness that had consumed him.

As [Y/N] took refuge in the safety of the backroom, her pulse gradually slowed, and she dared to hope that perhaps Barry would finally let her be. Little did she know that his calm demeanor concealed a storm of rage and obsession brewing within him. Doubts began to creep into his mind. He realized that his emotional outburst had made him suspicious in [Y/N]'s eyes, potentially damaging his chances of winning her over. Panic surged through him as he frantically contemplated what to do next.

In a moment of desperation, an idea struck Barry. What if he could go back and change the events that had unfolded just moments ago? It had worked before when he tried to save his mother, so why not now? After all, how much could the timeline change when he was only going back a day or two?

With a surge of determination, Barry quickly retreated to the café's washroom. Within the confined space, he shed his suit in a flash of lightning, moving too quickly for anyone to notice. He sprinted with unparalleled speed, initiating the time-travel process.

As Barry reached the desired point in the past, he found himself facing his past self, the version of him who was about to reveal his emotions to [Y/N]. Without wasting a second, Barry explained the situation, emphasizing the need to maintain composure.

"Hey Barry... uh, hey me... or, um... hey, past Barry?... Me from the past?" he stumbled over his words, his explanation oozing with confusion and awkwardness. "You see, it's a total brain-bender. Don’t- DO NOT reveal your feelings just yet. I mean, it's like tampering with the space-time continuum, and trust me, it's bad. I totally messed up, and now I've, like, zoomed back to sort things out. Look- it's super complicated, but you gotta keep a lid on it."

The Barry from the past blinked, trying to decipher the jumble of words his future self had thrown at him. His brow furrowed with a mix of bewilderment and comprehension as he grasped the weight of the situation. Gratitude seeped into his voice as he said, "I... I get it. Thanks…?"

With their awkward conversation behind them, both Barrys shared a brief moment of nerdy camaraderie, united by the complexity of their predicament. They understood the need for careful manipulation of their own actions to ensure the desired outcome with [Y/N].

Returning to the present, Barry found himself standing in front of [Y/N] once again, who continued preparing his sandwich without a hint of fear in her eyes. It was a sign that his intervention had successfully changed the past, erasing the effects of his emotional outburst.

Relief washed over Barry as he observed [Y/N]'s calmness, reassured that he still had a chance to manipulate her emotions and gain her trust. The darkness within him surged, fueled by the satisfaction of his successful alteration.

With a composed smile, Barry approached [Y/N], his voice filled with false gratitude. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he said, masking his true intentions. "I really appreciate your understanding. It means a lot to me."

Deep down, he relished the power he held over her, knowing that he could continue his manipulative pursuit without consequences. Barry was determined to exploit [Y/N]'s forgiving nature, using it to establish a connection that extended far beyond friendship. Little did she know the twisted depths of his obsession concealed beneath his charming facade.

As [Y/N] turned to attend to the next customer, Barry's gaze followed her, his mind already plotting their next encounter. He couldn't wait to be by her side once again, basking in her forgiving nature and slowly tightening his grip around her fragile heart. His voice, when he spoke, held an eerie calmness, belying the storm of emotions swirling within him. "It seems she still needs time," he muttered to himself. "I must be patient, make her trust me again."

As Barry continued with his routine, his mind raced with thoughts of his recent actions. He chastised himself for being too hasty, for scaring [Y/N] with his intense emotions. He should have taken a more measured approach, slowly luring her into his web of obsession. But there was no turning back now. He had to devise a plan that would make her depend on him, erasing the memory of his unsettling behavior.

Days turned into weeks, and Barry meticulously carried out his plan, carefully orchestrating the staged attack on the café. His panic and self-doubt transformed into a cold determination. He knew this was the perfect opportunity to portray himself as [Y/N]'s savior, to establish a sense of reliance and gratitude.

—————

"Are you out of your mind?" A group of male teenagers looked at Barry with disdain. "We're not going to be a part of your sick games." Barry's gaze hardened, and in an instant, his true nature surfaced. Without warning, he seized one of the teens by the collar, his grip vice-like and suffocating. The room fell into a stunned silence as Barry's fist connected with the young man's face, the impact reverberating through the air. Blood trickled from the corner of the teen's mouth as he crumpled to the ground, a living testament to Barry's capacity for violence. "That's just a taste of what I'm capable of," Barry sneered, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Now, are you going to reconsider?"

Barry's grip on the injured teen loosened slightly as he straightened himself, relishing in the atmosphere of fear that enveloped the group. With a cold, calculating gaze, he addressed them in a chillingly calm tone. "I suggest you all think carefully about your next move," he hissed, a hint of menace tainting his words. "You see, I have a little plan, and it involves the very café right down this street."

The teens exchanged worried glances, their initial resistance giving way to a sense of trepidation. Barry's twisted charisma and the brutal demonstration of his power had shaken them to their core. They begrudgingly acknowledged that defying him further might only lead to more pain and suffering.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," Barry continued, his voice dripping with calculated manipulation. "I want you to scare everyone there a little. Please, take the money from the register too, go crazy, I don’t care.”

As the weight of Barry's plan sank in, the teens felt a sickening mix of fear and disbelief. They couldn't fathom the depths of his depravity, the lengths he was willing to go to control and manipulate those around him. Yet, with the injured teen struggling to rise from the ground, his pain serving as a reminder of the consequences of disobedience, they reluctantly began to consider their grim options.

Barry's smile widened, a twisted satisfaction filling his eyes. He reveled in the power he held over these impressionable minds, the sense of control intoxicating his twisted psyche. The stage was set for his grand manipulation, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his dark desires.

The remaining teens, their fear palpable, mustered the courage to speak up amidst the lingering pain and shock. One of them, his voice trembling, asked the question that weighed heavily on their minds. "And what happens to us after we do what you ask?" he inquired, his tone a mix of anxiety and desperation.

Barry's eyes narrowed, scanning the group with a predatory gaze. He let out a sinister chuckle, relishing in their vulnerability. "Oh, don't you worry," he replied with false reassurance. "Once the chaos unfolds, once you've completed your part, I will ensure your safety. You see, I have connections, ways to make sure the blame falls elsewhere. You'll walk away unscathed, with your part in this little game neatly concealed."

The teens exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions a reflection of their internal turmoil. The promise of safety offered a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of the situation. Barry's ability to manipulate their fears and doubts was both unnerving and persuasive, amplifying their hesitance to resist.

"Trust me," Barry continued, his voice dripping with a deceptive charm. "I have everything under control. I will take care of any loose ends and protect you. You'll be free to continue with your lives, untarnished by the events that unfold. But remember, betraying me would have dire consequences."

His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the power he wielded over their lives. The teens, though unsettled by the path they were being coerced into, felt trapped and cornered, believing that compliance might be their only chance at survival.

As the weight of their decisions settled upon them, the teens reluctantly nodded, their resolve wavering in the face of Barry's twisted authority. Deep down, they knew they were stepping into a world of darkness, a realm where the consequences of their actions might haunt them forever.

Barry, satisfied with their submission, wore a satisfied grin. His plans were falling into place, and the web of manipulation he had woven was tightening around them. The stage was set, and he would soon revel in the chaos and control he so desperately craved.

On that fateful day, when tranquility hung in the air, the cafe was abruptly thrust into chaos. The entrance swung open with a violent force as the group of teens stormed inside, their faces concealed by masks. Panic erupted among the unsuspecting customers, who cowered in fear, seeking shelter wherever they could.

Frozen with terror, [Y/N], the reader, stood behind the cash register, her hands trembling uncontrollably. The sight of the masked intruders and the escalating commotion left her paralyzed, unable to find the courage to take action. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run or fight back, but fear held her firmly in its grip.

Suddenly, one of the teens, a malicious glint in his eyes, spotted [Y/N]. He brandished a weapon, pointing it menacingly in her direction, demanding the money from the register. The adrenaline coursing through [Y/N]'s veins intensified, her heart pounding in her chest. She desperately searched for a way out, a way to escape the impending danger, but fear consumed her every thought.

"Give us the money!" the teen barked, his voice laden with aggression. The seconds stretched into eternity as [Y/N], her voice trapped within her throat, failed to respond. The teen's impatience grew, and he raised his weapon, poised to strike her.

Just as the blow was about to descend upon [Y/N], a figure lunged forward, knocking the weapon aside. It was Barry, the very person who had orchestrated this horrifying event. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and possessiveness as he shielded [Y/N] from harm, his fist connecting with the side of her face, delivering a punishing blow.

Pain seared through [Y/N]'s cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but the impact was a mere fraction of what it could have been. The sinister irony of Barry's actions was not lost on her—the very person who had terrorized her, the one she had hoped to escape from, had now become her savior in this moment of peril.

The chaos in the café reached a crescendo, as the other masked intruders struggled to regain control of the situation. Barry's calculated plan was unfolding perfectly, with him positioning himself as the hero amidst the mayhem he had orchestrated. The customers, caught in the crossfire, trembled with fear, unsure of who to trust or where safety could be found.

As [Y/N] clutched her stinging cheek, her gaze locked with Barry's, a mix of confusion, betrayal, and relief flickering in her eyes. The path ahead grew even more treacherous, as she grappled with the conflicting emotions of gratitude for being saved and the chilling reality of the person responsible for her torment now being her protector.

The conflicting emotions swirled within [Y/N] as she stared into Barry's eyes, his reassuring gaze tinged with concern yet possessiveness. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the cafe, he seemed like her only anchor, the one person who could shield her from the storm he himself had unleashed.

Barry approached [Y/N] with measured steps, his voice a soothing whisper amidst the cacophony. "Are you alright?" he asked, his concern laced with a possessive undertone. "I'm here now, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Torn between the gratitude of being saved and the realization of the darkness lurking within Barry's soul, [Y/N] hesitated. Her instincts urged her to reject his comfort, to run as far away from him as possible. But the fear that gripped her heart, the fear of what he might do if she defied him, held her captive.

As the plan unfolded, Barry couldn't help but recall the first time he had encountered [Y/N], his obsession taking root. Flashbacks flooded his mind, transporting him back to that rainy day when he had hit rock bottom. He remembered sitting alone on a bench, soaked to the bone, feeling the weight of his failures as The Flash. The lives he couldn't save haunted him, consuming his thoughts.

Lost in his despair, Barry had been oblivious to his surroundings until he felt the rain cease. He glanced up, his eyes meeting an umbrella shielding him from the downpour. And there, standing before him, was [Y/N], a stranger who approached with concern and kindness. She had comforted him, leading him to the café just across the street, not even knowing why he was so broken.

"I saw you sitting there for hours," [Y/N] had said softly, her voice carrying warmth. "When the rain started, I couldn't just leave you like that. Please, let me offer you a warm drink on the house."

It was in that moment that Barry felt a glimmer of hope, a sense of connection that he had longed for. [Y/N]'s genuine care and compassion had touched him in a way no one else had. For the first time in his life, he felt a genuine warmth radiating from someone, a feeling he desperately craved.

And now, as he executed his plan, Barry was driven by the memory of that encounter. He wanted to recreate that vulnerability, that moment where [Y/N] had offered him solace. In his twisted mind, he believed that by orchestrating events where she had no choice but to rely on him, she would forget the darkness he had revealed.

As the pieces of his plan fell into place, Barry muttered to himself, a mixture of panic and determination in his voice. "I went in too fast, too impulsive. But this plan, this brilliant plan, will make her see how much she needs me. She will forget, and I will ensure that our fates become inextricably entwined."

A sinister smile played on Barry's lips as he reveled in his dark intentions. To the world, he would be [Y/N]'s hero, her knight in shining armor. But deep down, he knew the truth of his obsession, and he reveled in the power he held over her unknowing heart.

Before [Y/N] could fully comprehend the situation, Barry turned his attention to the teen who had attempted to strike her. With a swift and brutal motion, he twisted the teen's arm, causing a sickening snap that echoed through the chaos-filled room. The teen howled in pain, his agony a testament to Barry's strength and cruelty.

But the horror didn't end there. As the teen struggled to form words, to reveal their agreement or betray Barry's plan, he silenced him with a violent act. Barry slammed the teen's head down onto the counter, the force of the impact silencing any further words. Blood stained the surface as the other intruders, witnessing the brutal scene, charged at Barry, driven by a mix of rage and desperation.

In that perilous moment, Barry cast a quick glance back at [Y/N], his eyes filled with a combination of urgency and determination. He whispered urgently, his words barely audible amidst the chaos, "Call the police. I'll handle them. Trust me."

As [Y/N] trembled with fear, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself torn once again. The man who had orchestrated this terrifying ordeal, the man who had harmed her, was now urging her to take action for her own safety. In that moment, the weight of her decisions pressed heavily upon her, as she realized that Barry's desire for her had entangled her in a web of manipulation and danger.

With a surge of adrenaline and a lingering sense of self-preservation, [Y/N] found the strength to move. She cautiously made her way towards the nearest phone, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her thoughts raced, torn between the desire to escape and the knowledge that the very person she sought to flee from was now playing the role of her protector.

As she dialed the emergency number, her mind clouded with uncertainty. The path ahead had grown treacherous, marked by a disturbing blend of gratitude and terror.

As chaos raged around them, one of the teens managed to utter, "Hey, this wasn't part of the deal..." His words hung in the air for a fleeting moment before Barry swiftly silenced him, striking him with a forceful blow that rendered him unconscious. Barry's eyes darted towards [Y/N], his expression a mixture of concern and panic, fearing that she may have overheard anything that could jeopardize his plan.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] had just finished her call with the police, her ears ringing from the commotion and her mind clouded with a mix of fear and confusion. She noticed the teen's mouth moving just before Barry's decisive action, planting a seed of suspicion in her mind. Yet, amidst the overwhelming chaos, she had little time to dwell on it.

Barry hurriedly made his way to [Y/N] as she struggled to maintain her balance, leaning heavily on the nearby table for support. His touch replaced the cold, unyielding surface as he gently held her hand, providing a sense of stability and solace. In that moment, she allowed herself to release the tension gripping her body, her legs giving way as she collapsed to the ground.

With a sense of urgency, Barry supported [Y/N], guiding her to sit on the floor. His touch lingered, and though he felt a surge of desire, he reined in his impulses, knowing he needed to maintain the false pretense of comforting her. His voice, filled with feigned concern, broke the tense silence.

"Take deep breaths, [Y/N]. You're safe now," he reassured her, his voice a tender whisper amidst the turmoil. "Just focus on calming down. I won't let anyone harm you."

Her heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The touch of his hand, the soothing tone of his voice—it all played into her vulnerability, creating a semblance of safety in this terrifying ordeal. Part of her yearned to believe his words, to find solace in his presence, while another part remained wary of the dark intentions that lurked beneath his facade.

Barry's eyes, filled with a mixture of satisfaction and desire, locked onto [Y/N]'s. He reveled in the power he held over her, the control he exerted through his calculated actions. Yet, he had to maintain his charade, to keep her under his spell for just a while longer.

"You're going to be okay, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous tenderness. "I'll make sure of it. Trust me, trust in us."

In that moment, as [Y/N] gazed into his eyes, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope mingled with a sense of dread. The lines between reality and illusion blurred, leaving her trapped in a web of manipulation, desire, and the desperate longing for escape.

Barry mustered a nervous smile, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with his phone. He pulled up his contact information and hesitantly extended it towards [Y/N]. His usually confident and quick hands were now unsteady, betraying the nervousness that coursed through his veins.

"Here," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "My... my number. In case... in case you ever need someone to talk to or if anything happens."

His eyes locked with hers, searching for a sign of acceptance or reassurance. The weight of his desire to be there for her in any way he could made his heart pound in his chest, causing his words to come out in a rush.

"I mean, not that I expect anything to happen or that you'll need to call me. But just... just in case, you know?" he added, stumbling over his own words. "I... I genuinely care about your well-being, [Y/N]."

She accepted the phone number with a gentle nod, her own hands trembling slightly as she took in the significance of the moment. The contradictory feelings of gratitude and apprehension swirled within her, leaving her uncertain of how to proceed.

"Thank you, Barry," she replied softly, her voice laced with a mix of gratitude and caution. "I'll... I'll keep it in mind. I appreciate your concern."

As the door closed between them, Barry retreated from [Y/N]'s doorstep, his heart heavy with a potent mix of anticipation and unease. He knew that the true depth of his intentions, driven by obsession and manipulation, could never be revealed. Yet, he clung to the false pretense of caring for her, cherishing the moments they shared, even if they were shrouded in deceit.

As [Y/N] stared at the phone number displayed on her screen, she couldn't help but wonder about the man who had become entangled in her life. The lines between hero and villain blurred in her mind, leaving her torn between the gratitude for his actions and the lingering doubts about his true intentions.

In the silence of her room, she contemplated the enigmatic figure who had saved her, unsure of the treacherous path that lay ahead. Little did she know that the web of deception woven by Barry was growing stronger, threatening to ensnare her further in its intricate threads.

#dc #the flash #barry allen #flash x reader #x reader #yandere barry x reader #yandere! flash #yandere barry allen #fan fiction #my writes

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runecatwrites · 12 days

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To Lean On (3+1)

A Linked Universe Fanfic

Read it here on AO3!

Word count range: 4-5k

Characters: Wind-centric, feat. Four, Legend, Sky, and Time

Summary: Wind is a bit self-conscious about his status as the youngest member of the group. But as time goes on, he learns just how much his new brothers love him and would do anything for him, and he wholeheartedly reciprocates as he settles into his role.

Or, 3 times a member of the Chain were there for Wind and 1 time he stepped up for one of them.

#linked universe #lu wind #lu four #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #fic prompt #h/c #sickfic #brotherly bonding #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #my writes

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pictureswithboxes · 7 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey/Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma Characters: Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey Additional Tags: Sickfic, Fluff, this is just very soft, Gift Fic, Comfort No Hurt Summary:

"Franziska von Karma, the woman who never got sick and who killed germs and viruses upon contact, caught a cold, Maya’s first thought went immediately to those adorable kitten sneezes escaping from her girlfriend."

Written for Alternate Prompt: "I Could Really Use A Hug Right About Now"

For: @musashi

#ace attorney #franmaya #franziska von karma #maya fey #my writes #I like you so much

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lionlena · 1 year

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Hate run, love speed (Pedro Pascal x racing driver f!reader) part 1/?

Pedro Pascal x racing driver f!reader

Summary: You accidentally pick up a hitchhiker who turns out to be Pedro. You hear from him that he's not a fan of racing and thinks drivers don't do much... Then he finds out you're a rally driver.

Warnings: swearing, small angst, mention of risk of accident and death...

A/N: I'm not an expert on car racing and rally drivers, but I've always dreamed of becoming one. So please don't take anything I write about racing and cars seriously. English is not my native language so I apologize for any mistakes. This is my first xreader so... I'm dying here.

Hate run, love speed

You knew you were already late and you shouldn't have stopped but... You had a soft heart. It was raining heavily and the man looked really resigned. He was standing on the side of the road near a black Audi Q 7 trying to hitchhike. You didn't even recognize him at first but the purple Los Angels Lakers t-shirt felt oddly familiar. You parked your car and waited for the passenger door to open. "Thanks a lot! My car broke down and my phone died." As soon as you heard that voice and saw those brown eyes, it took your breath away. Okay, you weren't some crazy fan, but... You loved this guy. His acting and character. His laugh and that feeling that he's just a good guy. "Play it cool, play it cool," you kept repeating to yourself in mind. Sure, you might have had nerves of steel on the track but not with Pedro Pascal. "Umm... No problem... Cars break down." It really sounded pathetic but Pedro just smiled and buckled his seatbelt. Then he extended his hand towards you and said: "I'm Pedro." You had to bite your tongue not to say: "I knooowww!" All he had to do was see the keychain on your car keys. Baby Yoda, Grogu swayed happily. "Y/N. Where did you want to go?" You say after little pause. "To the race track." "That's cool. It's close to where I'm going." It was a little lie but you didn't want to sound like a stalker and say, "I'm going there too." "Cool." He said with that cute smile. You continued on your way and couldn't help but ask the question that was nagging you. "Are you a racing fan?" "Ummm... Not really. I must go there on business." "Oh." "I don't understand racing very much. Sure you have to drive well and have a strong character but other than that it's not like other sports. You don't exercise and... You know." Okay, that hurt you. Though he had some truth, but only a little. It's not like you didn't have to exercise or sacrifice other things. Even family. You had to put aside thoughts about the baby. It wasn't a problem for you but still. You had to be careful, pregnancy would end your career. Besides, one bad day, a slippery road, a flat tire... And you could have been hospitalized or even killed. You were wondering how to answer him when your phone rang and the familiar name BEN flashed up. "I'm sorry, but I have to pick this up." "Okay, I'll be quiet," he replied. As soon as you pressed the green receiver in the car your coach's angry voice rang out. "Y/N where the fuck are you?!" "On my way, I'll be there in 5 minutes." You swallowed and prayed that this would end the conversation. But it wasn't your lucky day. "You should be at the racetrack by now! Why do I need a driver who drives around the city and not on the racetrack?!" You could feel Pedro's eyes focus on you. "Four minutes Ben." You hit the accelerator harder and the car sped up. "Three" you growled. "Save this tone for the race." Ben hung up and Pedro immediately snapped out. "Holy shit, I'm sorry... I'm really, really sorry. If only I had known you were a rally driver I would never have said all this." You looked at him for a moment. He looked really embarrassed. "Actually, do you know why I became a driver? I hate sports, especially running but I love speed." You smiled at him and winked. "That makes sense," he replied.

The parking lot around the car racing track was full but luckily the competitors had their spots reserved. You quickly jumped out of the car. "Okay Pedro, I hope you'll be fine, I have to run now." "Thanks again and sorry." You waved your hand. "You're welcome." Then you started running towards the players' entrance. You heard Pedro shouting: "Good luck in the race!"

oh god....you really hated running

Part 2: https://lionlena.tumblr.com/post/717038721131855872/hate-run-love-speed-pedro-pascal-x-racing-driver

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal headcanon #my writes

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metamercury · 1 month

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I haven't written in four years hahah, here have part one of maybe four or five in a series. The only thing on my brain is doomed found family.

Pairing Focus: Leshy & Narinder

Summary: Centuries have passed following the schism of the Old Faith. Leshy finds an unexpected reminder in his thriving Darkwood.

It is not a welcome one.

Warnings: None

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl leshy #my writes #wow i forgot how to upload on ao3 AND how to format my fic posts #It sure has been four years hasn't it #i have more things planned but like... aiieeee the phd workload yannow?#right at this moment i should be prepping for tutorial and also sleeping

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rallis-fatalis · 2 months

Text

The Choices That Define

Rallis’ dive into the lizardmen’s dilemma continues as she investigates the other side of the story. Unfortunately her investigation is cut short and ends up begging more questions than answers. Once again the dragon finds herself digging into yet another tumultuous predicament that Kourend could be sure she would get to the bottom of some day.

After the incident in Shayzien with the lizardman, Rallis was booted from their encampment and told to stay away ‘for her own safety.’ She snorted and went on her way, more than ready to never return to that wretched place. What they did to that captive lizardman… It would be seared into her mind. Now she definitely had to find a way for the two sides to find peace. She snorted a short laugh to herself. Not one day since she set foot on this new continent and here she was already leaping into messy conflicts. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rallis recalled Reldo mentioning a gigantic library somewhere in Kourend, and that meant a gigantic amount of knowledge. Perhaps she could find a book or few on lizardmen and the history of their war with Shayzien and try to find a peaceful solution. And perhaps she could meet this K’uhul ajaw and have a word with them about the foolishness of trying to massacre every human in Kourend. How did they not see that idealism was also killing their own kind too?! They were obviously not fit to be a ruler.

But before finding the library, the dragon needed some numbing tea. Her throat was on fire after talking with the lizardman and she wanted to claw through her scar just to scratch that awful itch in her neck. She tried to take her mind off the pain and onto the search for hot water.

______________________________________________________________________________

After taking a tea rest in the kitchen of the castle in the center of Kourend, which was surprisingly very open to public visitors (save the throne room), Rallis asked around for directions to the library. Those that were brave enough to talk with the “scary blue lizardman” motioned to house Arceuus in the north and shooed her on her way.

Rallis perked up with a smile as she walked through Arceuus. Where plants would grow, crystals did instead, vibrant and in a myriad of colors. The earth turned dark shades of purple, rich magic flowing through the ground she walked upon. It made her scales itch but not in an unpleasant way; it made the dragon want to roll on the ground and soak in all the magic around her. Even the air tingled with the promise of spells.

The residents of Arceuus looked far different from any other person Rallis had ever seen. They were robed like wizards but absolutely no skin showed, making them look like animated clothing with bright glowing eyes. Instead of walking, they floated slightly above the ground. Where the people of Hosidius and especially Shayzien looked upon Rallis with fear and anger, these people looked at her with curiosity. Were Rallis not on a mission she would be more than willing to hang back and chat.

Passing by a grove of magic trees, turning the corner of some rune and magic stores, and following the twisting path through rows of crystals finally led Rallis to the entrance of the Arceuus library, a three storey tall elegantly structured building. The windows and doors were stained glass. Inside, the railings leading to the upper floors were intricately woven metal with simple designs. The bookshelves were pristine, not a scuff mark or speck of dust to be found, and every book was promptly shelved in their rightful place when returned.

A mage acting as a librarian hovered between a series of desks and carts, sorting returned books for filing away. Rallis snuck over with a wave hello and showed them a note in her notebook asking for books on lizardmen. They rattled off a series of tomes, which Rallis quickly tried to scrawl down, and went back to their book sorting, which Rallis took as her cue to get searching.

Some minutes later, the dragon was seated on the floor, back against the wall and piles of books around her. Many of the books she found were on Shayzien’s side of history, talking facts and dates of notable battles and invasions. There was information on lizardman biology, the use of their bones in the making of venom resistant armor, battle tactics for facing the different types of lizardmen, locations that housed many of their population, but none of this was what Rallis needed. The human side of things was cut and dry: the lizardmen attack humans, so the humans defend. There was nothing here on their side of the story, and there was no hope of finding a solution by viewing only half the tale.

One of the books mentioned the primary known lizardman settlement lying to the west of Kourend, in the untraversable swamplands southwest of Shayzien. Perhaps she could sneak into their city and find a lizardman willing to speak with her and share their history, or steal a few of their books for reading.

But that was a plan for the morrow. Night had fallen and the day’s adventure had been long. With Rallis’ second day on Kourend coming to a close, she returned her books to a return cart and found the coziest spot of dirt outside to catch a night’s sleep in.

By the time the average morning person would be awake enough to wander about for a breakfast outing or early chores, Rallis had left the city limits of Kourend. She snaked through twisting winding mines and paths through low mineral rich hills west of houses Arceuus and Lovakengj. Not a soul seemed to call the landscape home, not even a hint of civilization in any direction, save a tall ominous tower against the seaside to the north. The wind whistled hollowly through the mines, like the wailing of ghosts. It made Rallis shiver as she continued her trek westward.

Eventually the rocky path split, one path leading towards a volcano to the north, the other to grasslands to the south. According to her knowledge, the lizardman settlement was to the southwest. Rallis followed the path, passing farmland and a glass encased garden the size of a small town. Shayzien guards patrolled the area; she surely had to be close to the lizardmen city.

Rallis snuck past the guards, eventually reaching the beginning of a swamp. River water turned to a mucky green sludge. Solid earth turned to squishy bogs, and any trace of human life vanished. Coiling green plantlife snaked out of the murky water to trip any unsuspecting passerby. Rallis had to watch her footing with every step she took. The sky grew darker in the swamp, a permanent layer of thick clouds hanging above the area that never seemed to move. Flickers of ghostly light floated atop the swamp like will-o-wisps, bringing light to the otherwise shadowy misty swamp and lighting the way to a rising series of structures in the distance. From what Rallis could see, they looked like the pyramids she’d seen pictures of in Reldo’s books, though they were far less sand colored and broken down. Perhaps that was the lizardmen’s city!

Structures popped up amidst the fog as Rallis neared the giant pyramid, which grew larger with every step closer she took. Huts and corrals made of rotting bark and animal bones housed armor, weapons, supplies, and oddly some very bright and colorful frogs. Spears lined the path to the city, adorned with skulls, some of which were human. Stylized carvings of a dragon-like creature’s head was a common motif, adorning pillars, statues, carvings, and even outfits. Hopefully that meant they would take a shine to her.

Two burly brutish lizardmen stood guard at an arch marking the entrance to their city. At the sight of Rallis, they readied their swords and shields and hissed at the dragon. She held up her hands to show she meant no harm and bowed low. The guards gave each other a wary glance and remained on guard but did not make a move to attack.

“Hello,” Rallis rasped in Wyvernic. “Seek your knowledge. Want to learn and help you.”

The lizardmen guards growled in startled confusion and whispered in their native hissy language to each other. Eventually one ran off while the other continued his watch. Rallis assumed they were getting someone higher up than a guard to see her, and in just a few moments her hunch was proven right. The lizardman brought before her was even larger than the guards; she had to crane her neck just to make eye contact. They wore a much more detailed outfit, adorned with feathers and animal bones, with an especially large carved skull atop their head like a ceremonial mask, notably in the shape of their dragon motif. They walked with a large wooden staff and a slight limp.

“Greetings, foreigner. Why do you come to our home?”

Rallis’ ears shot up in surprise. That was Common! She didn’t expect them to speak it. Did that mean they could also read it too? She wrote in her notepad that she was seeking information on the history of the lizardmen and to better understand them. When she showed the large lizardman her notes, he was indeed able to read her writing. He turned and motioned with his tail for her to follow.

He led her to a stone hole in the ground that dropped into a series of underground ruins, like a second city hidden beneath the first. It was quiet down here, with only the sound of dripping water and occasional distant shuffling of feet breaking the stony silence. There were many alcoves amidst the walls of the ruins, leading to sleeping areas, nesting grounds, storage areas, and more. The lizardman led Rallis to one such alcove and slumped down with a heavy sigh. He leaned half against his wooden staff, half against the wall.

“I am Khat B’alam, shaman of thissss tribe. Any who sssseek knowledge receive it from ussss, and no other shaman would dare ssssee an outsider. What is it you sssseek, lizard from human’s lands.”

Through the power of her notes, Rallis told the story of the lizardman who was captured and killed by the Shayzien soldiers, how it made her want to find a way to stop their war, and how it led her here since no stories from the other side would be found in the lands of humans.

Khat looked at the dragon oddly. “You are sssstrange. Why do you bother with the lives of those you do not know?”

Because helping people in need was the right thing to do, she wrote. Khat blinked a few times, in a bit of awe at the honesty of her answer.

“Well then… I shall tell you what I know.”

“In the beginning of our history, there was only our creator, K’uhul ajaw. Humans use a different name, but it has been lost to ussss. K’uhul ajaw wove our being together from nothing, and sssso we owe Him everything. He granted ussss His high speech, ssssomething that has now been losssst to all but the shamans. He gave ussss life, culture, will, and in return we follow His ways, passed down to ussss through our elders.”

This K’uhul ajaw sounded like a god. Rallis hoped not. From her experiences, those who followed a god like this never changed their course once their mind was set on it. She’d been attacked by plenty of Saradominist zealots to know that firsthand.

‘Does he tell you to attack humans?’ Rallis wrote.

Khat nodded.

‘Why?’ she asked.

“The reason is losssst to time, but the reason does not matter. We must do as K’uhul ajaw ssssays.”

Rallis frowned. That would not do! With logic like that, there would be no way to stop the fighting. Was there really no way to stop the killing, she asked.

“If one could sssspeak with Him and learn of His reasons, perhapssss. But His location eludes ussss. Only the ancientssss before ussss would possess thissss knowledge.”

Rallis huffed in defeat. So she was stuck, unless she could somehow find a way to speak with the dead. She’d met someone in Lumbridge who could, and Grimro told her stories of chatty ghosts that called Morytania home, but even then such specters were rare. Was there a way to raise the dead like Morytania was able to so she could speak with an ancient lizardman?

“Your trouble is apparent,” Khat commented. “If you truly sssseek such knowledge, there is one other that may hold answers. Or three others, rather.”

Rallis perked up immediately.

“In the volcano north of here, there existssss three ancient beings that have seen this land grow from its very beginnings. We do not pay them with our time any longer, their words laced with tricks, and humans bar ussss entry, but you may yet glean that which you sssseek.”

Rallis jumped up with an excited nod. She passed what she assumed was that volcano on the way here. She could be there in no time at all! With that Khat escorted her from the city and the two said their goodbyes.

______________________________________________________________________________

The volcano was quite different from the ones Rallis had traversed before. The lava glowed a bright blue and positively reeked rot, old eggs, and something chemical that burned her throat. An encampment of golems infused with lava sat at the top of the volcano, none of whom paid Rallis any mind. In the center of the encampment, the earth dipped and a lift descended into the hole of the volcano. A strange decorative figure, like some weird draconic bird, perched atop the roof of the lift. The sight made her scales crawl and her heart race. She turned her gaze away swiftly, the feeling of unease going with it.

As Rallis entered the lift, she felt a blast of hot air hit her, the rancid smell making her gag. Thankfully she was used to the heat otherwise she might not have been able to stomach going down there. The volcano opened into a series of caverns and tunnels and lava flows, reminiscent of Taverley’s dungeon. Rallis felt a pang of homesickness at the thought; she’d have to pay her mother a visit soon.

Rallis hopped off the lift and walked into the cavern. Three huge golems sat before her, as tall as a building. They were seated in equally huge chairs, like kings in their thrones. They had to be the ones Khat spoke of. Before Rallis could even open her mouth to speak to them, they addressed her.

“Dragon from across the sea.”

“You were expected.”

“And your purpose here is known to us.”

Rallis shut her mouth in surprise. Were these beings omniscient or something? With the way they finished each other’s thoughts they had to be.

“You seek communion with the deceased.”

“We have this knowledge.”

“But we will not provide it.”

“It goes against the natural order.”

Rallis gave them a confused grumble.

“The dead need remain dead.”

“You seek to return one to the land of life.”

“You seek to disrupt a delicate balance.”

Rallis snorted. No she didn’t. If anything, she was trying to restore a broken balance with her intentions. Besides, she didn’t intend to permanently raise whoever she spoke with. The three molten golems seemed to understand her without her having to say a word.

“The plight of the lizardmen is not something to be solved.”

“Not yet, and not by you alone.”

“Cease your folly and leave us now.”

Rallis growled and stepped closer, ready to leap onto these pretentious rock monsters and claw her thoughts into their rocky skin. Suddenly, something warm settled between Rallis’ wings, like a comforting hand resting on her back. For just a moment, a subtle green glow surrounded her, something that gave quite a shock to the three golems.

“A balance keeper,” they all muttered at once. The glow faded away and Rallis watched as the three of them exchanged serious whispers. After a few moments, they seemed to settle on their thoughts.

“Servant of a keeper of balance.”

“We will aid you.”

“But know it shall come with a price.”

Rallis crossed her arms and tilted her head as if to ask what they wanted.

“The answers you seek lie in the realm of Arceuus.”

“A realm of heretics who abandon the natural order.”

“There you will find the way to resurrect the dead and commune with them.”

“You need only the remains of whom you wish to speak.”

Rallis uncrossed her arms. That sounded easy enough. Khat would likely know where to find ancient lizardman bones to reanimate. The concept sounded a smidge disturbing though.

“Our price for this knowledge is thus.”

“Those of Arceuus have evaded death for far too long.”

“They bastardize the order of the world.”

“There will come a day when they meet their reckoning.”

“You will be present at its beginning.”

“Do not aid them.”

“Unless you wish to suffer with them.”

“Now go. We have much to think on.”

Rallis gave a curt nod and promptly excused herself. She did not like those three. If she ever had to deal with them again it would be too soon. With a new plan in hand, Rallis dashed back off to the lizardman settlement in the swamp.

_________________________________________________________________________

The next day, Rallis was back in house Arceuus, the massive fragile skull of an ancient lizardman shaman under her arm. The three golems hadn’t told her where exactly to go, but after a bit of asking around, she was led to the most northeast corner of Arceuus. The crystals that grew around the city were far larger here and exuded a level of magic that made the runes in Rallis’ pouch start to act up. Eventually she came upon an altar, a square plinth with a large purple-black crystal resting in its center, one far more powerful than the wild grown ones around her. A ghostly robed resident hovered nearby, some kind of caretaker for the area. Rallis waved him down and asked him how she could go about reviving the skull she brought with her.

“Interested in our art of necromancy are you, outsider? Permit me to examine the relic you’ve brought.”

Rallis carefully handed the delicate skull over. The caretaker gave it an equally gentle look over. “Yes, this will work,” he mumbled. He handed the skull back. “You may certainly reanimate the creature you hold for a short period of time, but only once. The soul left in its bones is very faint. Place it upon the altar.”

The dragon nodded and gently set it on the purple-gray plinth. Getting close to the crystal in its center made her shudder, like a series of cold fingers were dragging across her scales.

“Given the nature of the creature you wish to reanimate, it would be wiser to have you perform the spell rather than me.”

Rallis blinked in surprise. Her? But she didn’t know the first thing about necromancy! The caretaker could see the worry on the dragon’s face.

“You have no need to fret,” he assured. “I can sense you’re already quite the accomplished mage yourself. Learning this shall be child’s play. You need only the appropriate runes.”

Rallis dumped out some of the runes from her pouch into her hand for him to pick out which to use. Surprisingly he picked out one of the runes with pale blue wings. If she remembered correctly, Dionysius called that one a soul rune. Rallis had never used one before; how exciting it would be to try new magic!

“The closer you are in proximity to the altar, the stronger the spell will be, so I suggest you remain as close as possible for your first attempt. Casting the spell itself holds no challenge, but then you must channel power from the surrounding crystals to create a tether to the soul trapped in the bones. These crystals are tied to the river of souls that flow through this land, and pulling a soul from the river can be draining, especially with a creature as old as this. You will feel as if someone is pulling on your very being, trying to drag it down; do not let it. Pull back. If you are successful, you will have your lizardman. If not, you won’t get another chance and the remnants of its soul will fade.”

Rallis nodded. It sounded a bit tricky but she could do it! She stood before the skull, broke the runes for the spell, and suddenly everything around her started to glow purple. The altar crackled, the crystals shimmered, and for just a moment, Rallis blacked out. In the cold darkness, invisible ghostly hands sank their nails into her chest, trying to tear her apart. It was like a piece of herself Rallis couldn’t see was being yanked away violently. She pulled back, and an invisible silent battle of tug-o-war ensued. With one final exhausting tug, Rallis fell backwards, out of the darkness and onto the familiar dark earth of Arceuus.

Rallis caught her breath. That was rough! What an exhausting form of magic this country had developed.

The skull on the altar floated away in a cloud of purple, hovering at head height for a shaman. Rallis scrambled from the ground, dusting her clothes off, and stood at attention. The purple glow flowed from the skull, giving it the form of a ghostly lizardman shaman, an ancient creature that exuded a demand for respect.

As its body fully formed, it looked around in angry shock, gaze settling on Rallis. He hissed at the dragon savagely.

“Where am I?! Who are you?!” he roared.

Rallis bowed. “Name Rallis,” she strangled out. “Seek help for your kind.” She was thankful the creature spoke not in Common; if the caretaker had heard her say such a thing she was sure she would be in immense trouble.

“Take me from afterlife for this?!” he hissed. “Ask the living!”

“Living not know,” she stressed. “Only dead know. Please tell, why your kind kill human? Why K’uhul ajaw say so?”

“Not matter. We do as K’uhul ajaw say.”

“Please,” Rallis begged. “I must know reason. Reason is getting your kind killed. Why does K’uhul ajaw make you fight?”

The shaman paused, calculating the dragon before him as if debating whether his knowledge should be passed on or remain with him in death. Perhaps it no longer mattered. He was dead, after all.

“Our maker hate humans,” the shaman said. “They hurt Him, exile Him, hunt Him all life. He try to hide all life, but humans chase Him. Not happy until He dies. He make us with His anger.” The lizardman stood proud and tall. “WE ARE HIS VENGEANCE! We will right the wrongs done to Him!”

Rallis took a step back in fear at the unbridled display of self righteousness. This wasn’t right! How could something create an entire species just to kill mindlessly, to cause terror to every generation that came after those at fault? Thousands of years of murder, all because of needless suffering and a grudge.

A volley of arrows shot above Rallis’ head, landing in the specter of the lizardman shaman. As they pierced and shattered the skull holding it together, the beast howled and shattered into an explosion of magic and bone shards. Rallis spun around to see a battalion of Shayzien soldiers armed to the teeth, weapons drawn. They swiftly surrounded Rallis. One dressed more fiercely than the other stepped forward, hand on the hilt of their sword.

“And here I thought the sergeant was joking,” they barked. “Are you the lizardman known as Rallis?”

Rallis growled. “Dragon,” she muttered.

“You were told by Lord Shayzien himself to refrain from trespassing on Shayzien land,” the soldier continued. “Multiple sightings place you crossing Shayzien land to pay repeated visits to lizardman territory, and now we find you reviving our enemy in our own borders. I don’t know how things work in your lands, but here sharing information with the enemy and helping them sneak past our borders is treason. You now have two choices: be escorted back to your authority with our delegation or be dealt with here. Choose.”

Rallis paled. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. But there was an obvious answer. Varrock royal authority meant Reldo, and Reldo typically meant getting off scot free. With her decision made, the soldiers removed her from the premises of their grand city and corralled the dragon onto yet another small cramped boat for a long journey home. At least she would have an interesting tale to tell her bookman friend in lieu of bringing home the new books he hoped for. And one day she could have even more wild tales to regale him with, because Kourend could be sure of one thing.

Rallis the dragon wasn’t done here yet.

#osrs #runescape #oc tag #my writes

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