#I’ve seen some art where he has trinkets in his room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

#mgg smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #rpf #criminal minds #mgg oneshot

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rax-writes · 3 years

Text

Eternally Yours

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Characters: General Iroh II x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Based on a request from @henrysmorgan for “Evening tea after a meeting at the fire nation palace. Sleepless nights, mood lighting, conversation-turned-confession, delicious tea, delicious Iroh.” ♥

Growing up as the daughter of a Fire Nation nobleman was usually relatively dull, until one particular event you attended at the age of thirteen, a banquet following the coronation of Fire Lord Izumi. You would never forget the day.

During the banquet, while your parents were deep in conversation with some other nobles, you decided to wander around the massive ballroom. You had been admiring the countless beautiful paintings hanging around the room, when you distractedly bumped into someone. Being mid-step, it knocked you off balance, and you would have fallen flat on your back if they hadn’t grabbed your arm to catch you. When you looked up at your savior, you realized it was a boy about your age. He gazed down at you with intense amber eyes, an adorable dimple on each cheek, and the realization of how cute he was made your mouth go dry and your face flush.

“I’m so sorry for running into you, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you managed to croak out, as the boy steadied you on your feet. He smiled kindly at you, then shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t watching where I was going either,” he said with a soft chuckle and a charming smile. “My name’s Iroh. What’s yours?”

You told him your name, and the two of you exchanged bows.

“So, what was it that had caught your eye?” Iroh inquired, and you gestured toward the paintings on the wall.

“I was looking at all these lovely paintings. They’re the most beautiful works of art I’ve ever seen,” you confessed, and Iroh nodded as he followed your gaze.

“I can show you my favorite one in the palace if you’d like,” he offered, and extended his hand. You grinned and nodded, placing your hand in his and allowing him to guide you out of the ballroom and through the palace.

Although you felt practically dizzy from the sparks you felt from holding hands with this boy you’d just met, you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure it’s okay that we leave the banquet? I’m worried we’re not supposed to be running around the palace like this.”

“It’s fine, trust me,” Iroh assured you, before escorting you to another large, yet empty room. You looked around in awe, at the sheer size and beauty of the room. Golden trinkets, swords, and daggers lined the shelves and walls, along with numerous ancient-looking scrolls and books. Your house wasn’t small by any means, but it was nothing compared to the royal palace.

“Come on, my favorite painting is over here,” Iroh said, smiling brightly at how intrigued you were by the whole room, before leading you to the other side of the room.

A colossal painting covered the entire wall, encased in an ornate, gold frame. The picture depicted a large piece of land, with blackened, burned trees and grass, but small signs of life beginning to bloom from the ashes. Tall rock formations stood in the background, and the sun shone brightly over the landscape. A few trees were growing leaves again, grass peeked through the rubble in some spots, birds were flying through the sky and resting on trees, and small creatures were exploring on the ground.

“It shows the location of Fire Lord Ozai’s attack on Earth Kingdom land on the day of Sozin’s Comet, where Avatar Aang defeated him. It represents how the world began to heal in the aftermath,” Iroh explained, and you smiled as you soaked in the picture’s meaning.

“It’s so pretty,” you whispered, still in awe over the painting.

“Not as pretty as you,” Iroh stated softly, and you immediately turned to look at him, a blush quickly rising to your cheeks. The two of you grinned at one another, before a guard popped into the room, ruining the moment.

“There you are, Prince Iroh. The Fire Lord has been wondering where you are. The feast is about to begin.”

Iroh merely nodded, and wordlessly took your hand again before following the guard, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and you hadn’t just met him fifteen minutes prior (not that you were complaining in the slightest).

“You didn’t mention that you’re the prince!” you whispered, and Iroh grinned slightly as he shrugged.

“It wasn’t relevant at the time.”

As the two of you returned to the ballroom, Prince Iroh released your hand, and shot you a small wink. It was for the best that neither of your families noticed the flirtatious aura between you. The onslaught of curious questions from them didn’t appeal to either of you.

Iroh introduced you to his mother and grandfather, the current and former Fire Lords, before following you over to visit your parents. You introduced them to Iroh, and asked if you could sit with him during the feast. They both declared what an honor it was to meet him, and they were more than willing to allow you to sit with him. In hindsight, you later realized that it was because they were excited by the prospect of you courting the Fire Prince.

Although you got along swimmingly with Iroh during the feast, and the two of you remained close friends for years to come, the courtship your parents had been so eager for never came to fruition. The flirtatious nature of your friendship was a constant, and you harbored unyielding, strong feelings for him, but Iroh never asked you out. You convinced yourself that he didn’t care about you in that way, and conceded that you would have to be content with mere friendship. Between that and the risk of losing him altogether by confessing your feelings, you decided that you were fine staying just friends.

After Iroh joined the United Forces at age eighteen, you saw each other much less often, but he always made sure to spend time with you whenever he returned home to the Fire Nation, and he frequently sent you gifts from all around the world. You cherished each and every one of them; your favorite was the very first gift had sent: a solid gold quill from Ba Sing Se, with your name engraved on it. “Use it to write to me,” Iroh had said in the note that came with it, and from then on, the two of you occasionally exchanged letters, and it helped quell your feelings of missing him.

During one of Iroh’s leaves of absence, your parents brought up the subject of marriage. After all, you were nearly thirty years of age, and had yet to ever be in a relationship – a consequence of being hopelessly in love with your best friend for half your life. They had chosen a husband for you, and encouraged you to meet with him.

“My dear, I know he’s not General Iroh, but it’s time to accept that that’s not going to happen,” your mother had said, in the gentlest tone she could. Although you knew she was right, her words still felt like a punch in the stomach.

So, you agreed to a meeting with this man. He was your age, and he was decent-looking, but… not as handsome as Iroh. Not as tall as Iroh. Not as funny as Iroh. Not as intelligent as Iroh. Nevertheless, he asked you to marry him when the date was over, as he had been bade by your parents, and you told him you’d think about it. Your walk home was solemn and melancholy, and you were grateful that your parents were out when you returned. The home was quite large, so you rarely had to see them anyway, but you knew they would be asking you a thousand questions if they had been present.

With your eyes cast downward, you closed the door to your living quarters behind you, and let out a long, sad sigh.

“You could at least pretend to be excited to see me.”

The voice startled you, and you let out a gasp as you looked up to locate the intruder. Iroh chuckled heartily before standing from the couch, taking a few quick strides over to you, and wrapping you up in a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Iroh murmured into your hair, placing a hand on the back of your head as his other arm remained firmly around your waist. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“I’ve missed you more.”

“Come on, I made us some tea,” Iroh stated, using the arm around your waist to guide you over to the couch. The two of you sat down beside one another, so close that your legs were touching, and although you had never been uncomfortable by such a close proximity to your oldest friend, it felt almost… wrong, now that you were about to be engaged.

As you sipped on the delicious tea that Iroh had brewed for the two of you – a skill he had no doubt inherited from his namesake – he stared at you intently, a warm smile on his lips.

“So, what’s got you down? I heard that sigh when you came in here. Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes fell to the cup of tea in your hands, unable to meet his gaze. Iroh was your friend, and nothing more; that hadn’t changed over the past decade and a half. Why were you so nervous to tell him the truth?

Because telling him means the death of any hope you had to marry him, you realized, which earned another sigh from you.

“My mother and father have arranged a marriage for me. I was actually just on a date with the unlucky gentleman,” you explained, setting the teacup on the table nearby. You looked up to Iroh, and saw that his smile had faded. He appeared to be somewhere between upset and sad.

“Do… do you want to marry him?”

“No,” you answered honestly, holding his gaze. “But I think I have to, at this point. I’ve been in love with someone else for years, but it just never worked out that way.”

Iroh’s back straightened and his brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

“I’m not sure he’s ever felt the same way about me. We care about each other a lot, there’s no doubt about that, and we flirt quite a bit. But he never made a move, and I’ve always been too scared of losing him to make one myself. So, I just left well enough alone,” you explained, and you found yourself no longer capable of looking into his eyes. Despite the fact that you were both speaking indirectly, you knew that Iroh knew you were talking about him. So, here you were, proclaiming your truth, which you’d been absolutely terrified to do for so very long. But this was your last chance to tell him, and you figured you might as well take it.

You felt a gentle finger under your chin tilt your head up to look at him, those captivating golden irises holding your gaze.

“And what would you do if he told you that he does feel the same way? That he’s just always been too scared, and too stupid, to do anything about it?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and Iroh held his as he awaited your response.

“I would tell him that I’ve loved him since the day I met him, and tell this new guy to get lost.”

“Well, you better give him a call then,” Iroh quipped, a grin blossoming on his face as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you into a kiss.

It felt like a dream – and yet all the times you’d dreamed of this very moment paled in comparison to the reality. Iroh’s lips were soft and sweet, and your arms wrapped around his waist, fingers clutching his uniform as if he’d disappear into thin air at any moment. After a few moments of pure heaven, he pulled away gently, resting his forehead against yours. Iroh then leaned back to stare into your eyes, and smiled down at you before he broke the silence between you.

“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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breathings-of-the-heart · 4 years

Note

hiiii, can i please request some levi ackerman headcannons where he has a badass girlfriend? she is shorter than him but she is literally so badass,, i see alot of stories with levi and a s/o who is really sweet and caring but never with someone who is cool, caring, badass, and can take care of herself,, thank you!!

Being Levi’s Badass Girlfriend would Include...

Growing up with Levi in the underground, both of you taking care of each other for as long as you can remember

Being a few years younger than Levi, running into him after desparately looking for somewhere to hide from the men you stole bread from

Finding him nearly starved and deciding to sharing your food, becoming inseperable ever since

Levi squeezing your hand when you’re nervous

You singing to him when he’s stressed but too prideful to admit it

Learning knife skills from Kenny when he took the two of you under his wing, and getting frustrated that you seemed to lack the Ackerman natural talent

You compensating for it with your charming and, when you wanted, manipulative nature

Typically being underestimated for your smaller stature, but taking that as insentive to work twice as hard to prove people wrong

Reminding him that he wasn’t alone after Kenny abandoned you two

"We're going to get through this, Levi. We'll be okay, I promise."

"Stupid, I know that already."

Being one of the only people who could make Levi smile

Getting mugged quite often when you walked anywhere alone, to the point where Levi wouldn’t let you out at night without him

Becoming annoyed at this treatment and deciding to take up martial arts more seriously

Fighting people more than twice your size when needed, and coming out victoriously nearly every time

Living together, and having to follow Levi’s meticulous cleaning rules in whatever living space the two of you occupied

Always being less closed off to others than Levi, despite being calloused by your hardships all the same

Your teen years going by barely scraping enough money to survive,

You always trying to stay positive regardless

Taking over jobs and caring for Levi on the rare occassion he got injured or sick, with him doing the same for you

Occassionally finding yourself blushing when you first realized he had started gaining muscle

An overwhelming urge to scold him if he’s gone for too long, especially after taking on an extra dangerous gig

Realistically, just being worried for Levi’s safety or being afraid that he had left you

Being proven over and over again the latter was never an option

Him buying you small things on special occassions, like hair accessories or trinkets

Chastising him for wasting money when he did

"I told you! There’s no point to having this kind of stuff. You should've used the money for something we need."

"Do you like it?"

"...yes."

"Then shut up. Happy birthday, (Y/N)."

Smiling and treasuring each gift with your whole heart

Building a reputation alongside Levi as a notorious power duo, with people just assuming you two were together

You handling the connections and networking aspects of business deals with your superior social skills

Levi insisting on taking you with him when me moved in with Farlan, making excuses that you’d probably be all dirty and unorganized by yourself

"It's okay to just say you'd miss me, you know."

Being happy to add another person to your small family, and becoming fast friends with the dirty blonde

Laughing that Levi finally had someone else to pick on about their “unsatisfactory” cleaning habits

Being the one to negotiate for ODM gear, and learning how to use them suprisingly quickly

Sometimes flirting with men to get what you wanted, having learned how to use your feminity to your advantage as the years passed

That not always ending well

Having to save each others’ lives on multiple counts, some instances with you two just barely escaping

Holding Levi close on nights you nearly lost each other

Him wanting desperately to give you a better life

Viewing Isabel as the little sister you never had once you met, teaching her everything you’d come to know living in the underground as a fellow, smaller woman

Suprisingly, finding yourself having brief moments of contentment, despite the tough days

You being in on the deal to join the Survey Corps kill Erwin Smith in order to secure citizenship on the surface

Becoming emotional at the opportunity to go above ground, never thinking it was possible

Grabbing Levi’s hand excitedly after breathing fresh air for the first time, missing the way he smiled softly as you pointed at the hundreds of things you’d never seen before

"Look, Levi!! Real clouds! And is that how tall trees are supposed to be?"

The happiness not lasting long

You trying to stay strong for Levi after the death of Isabel and Farlan, knowing he believed it was all his fault

Still crying on days where no one was watching

Getting through the loss together, just like everything else

Staying in the military and silently vowing to always be there for Levi, knowing you’d go wherever he did

Taking a while to adjust without your friends

Trying to be thankful that life had less hungry nights and unsafe circumstances

You and Levi becoming squad leaders fairly quickly, having proven your skill and loyalty tenfold

Having a titan kill count that rivalled his (which you’d nonchallantly remind him of, once or twice)

Quickly gaining the respect of your team

Your fellow comrades realizing that your pretty face and short height yet kickass persona were the epitome of how “looks can be deceiving”

Not being afraid to put recruits with egos in their place

Levi keeping an extra eye on you during missions whenever he could, even though he knew you could hold your own

Sneaking into his room when the nightmares became too much

"Just... wipe your feet before coming in, (Y/N)."

Late nights in his office ensuing where he listens to you reminisce about the past

And it hitting you suddenly, a few years later, that you were in love with Levi Ackerman

The affection being triggered by the simplest of things: him brushing those raven bangs out of his eyes mid-conversation

Realizing you always felt this way, and you might have even realized it sooner if you both weren’t so busy trying to survive

Wondering for weeks if you should say something

Deciding he most likely didn’t feel the same way and pushing your feelings aside, falling back into the regular dynamic

You daydreaming about what a possible future together would look like

Levi kissing you for the first time before an expedition outside the walls,

Him wanting you to know how he felt in case it was your last night together

Confessing that you’ve loved him your whole life, and telling him you think it was always meant to be that way

Fiercely taking on each task the Titans threw at you, empowered by the fact that you had something to live for

Him becoming more protective than ever, which although frustrating at times, you found endearing

Drinking tea together on your breaks and stealing kisses across his desk

Levi Squad teasing their captain about his fondness for you, on days where they feel extra cheeky

Both of you planning to get married after the war

Just allowing yourself to be fully happy for the first time, basking in the fact that you get to spend the rest of your life with the man you adore

"I love you, Levi."

"I've only ever loved you."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #aot #snk #anime #snkedit #captain levi #levi #snk manga #levi ackerman one shot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanon #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine

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eclecticmiasma · 4 years

Text

Loveless (Yandere!Giorno x Reader)

🌠Commissioned Fic!🌠

SFW

“We finally have the life we always dreamed of...yet you scorn me at every turn.”

[Warnings: general yandere scariness, captivity]

Art credit: 荒巻ミカ on Pixiv

Another gilded trinket lays scattered across the floor. Thick silence hangs in the air like an asphyxiant, snuffing out all words before they even leave your throat. Your eyes pierce his own, defiant, enraged to be in this position once again. By now, he should have accepted that this will always be the outcome of his attempts to purchase your love and affection. But the nearly imperceptible signs of hurt that tug at his features tell you that he hasn’t.

All you had wanted was to speak with him. After months of swimming in deep depression, isolated and terrified, you finally worked up the courage to appeal to the kind young boy you know is walled deep inside of your captor. Everything about his appearance has changed, but the love and passion in his liquid blue eyes is the same. You were there when he first set foot in Italy, after all.

Not as Don Giorno Giovanna, but as Haruno.

When he saw you in the doorway of his study, he lit up like you hadn’t seen in years. He had dreamed of the day you would come to him of your own accord. He promptly ushered his guards from the fire-lit room and took your trembling hand in his own. It really was Haruno, you thought, as he smiled that familiar sheepish grin. The realization put you at ease.

“I…wanted to see you,” You lied, swallowing your fear. The warmth that radiated from Giorno was nearly palpable. His lithe arms pulled you into a gentle embrace, and for the first time you felt him relax. He buried his nose in your hair and squeezed you tight- almost like he was afraid to let go. You couldn’t bring yourself to hold him back, “…t-to talk to you.”

When he pulled away, he looked you up and down. He was positively beaming with pride.

“Anything you want, tesora, it’s yours.”

You bit your lip as he led you to a plush sofa next to the fireplace. Its warmth grounded you to reality. Giorno asked if you wanted something to drink, but you knew you couldn’t stomach even an ounce of liquid. Even water made you nauseous as of late.

Minutes passed before you found your voice. Giorno simply watched the shadows of your features dance in the light of the flames. He looked so sweet in that moment, so genuinely happy. Part of you wondered if you’d misunderstood him, that maybe he truly hadn’t meant to hurt you. Without thinking, you squeezed his hand with real affection.

“You…sent me another gift,” You started, pulling a rose gold locket from your dress. It was inlaid with tiny diamonds that spelled your name, and undeniably beautiful- but the sight of it made bile rise in your throat. It was the final straw. Before Giorno could respond, you turned his hand and pressed it against his palm, “I came here to give it back.”

His expression faded like ashes scattered by the wind. His brows knitted together as he slowly put the pieces together. You weren’t there to finally return his affection, you weren’t there to proclaim yourself as his own- you came to change his heart. A feat no one had ever achieved. His head nodded and a small, resigned smile appeared. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

“I know it isn’t much, but think of it as a token of my love,” He replied, looking past your exasperated stare and holding the locket up to your neck. Something inside of you snapped and you yanked the glittering necklace from his fingertips.

“This is not love!” You shrieked, throwing the jewelry with all of your might. It broke and speckled the marbled floor.

And now you’re here. Sitting in the wake of your combined decisions. Drowning in the air around you. The fire, once comforting, feels like it’s burning you alive. Tears streak your face as despair sets in. When the silence is finally broken, you hear the crack in Giorno’s voice.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” He suddenly stands, stepping over the shards of jewelry to stand before the fireplace. His shadow looms over the entire study, “For years, I’ve done nothing but vie for your affection, but use everything within my power to protect you. We finally have the life we always dreamed of…Yet you scorn me at every turn.”

“The life we dreamed of?” Despite your trepidation, you find yourself moving to your feet, temper rising, “We used to dream of packing our little bags and building a giant tree house to live in, not this! You grew that tree in the alley behind my place that we would always sit in and pretend we were finally adults…that we were finally free-”

“We were children,” He interrupted, still refusing to face you, “We knew nothing.”

“Haruno knew that it’s wrong to take people as your prisoner. Haruno knew he didn’t want to follow in his parents’ footsteps,” Giorno finally whips around to face you, incredulous, but you continue your rant unabated, “Haruno hated people like you, Haruno would have understood that you abuse me and then buy my affection just like your father did to your mother. I refuse to be bought, Haruno-”

Blinding pain radiates up the left side of your face. It takes a second to register that you’ve been struck. Even Giorno stares at his open palm, shocked. You clutch your cheek and clench your teeth through fresh tears. He swallows hard, and his expression turns to stone.

“Haruno was a scared little boy that had no agency, beaten and broken into silence,” He takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Haruno didn’t understand that some people in this world are born evil, that nothing can ever fix them,” Your right leg catches the wooden coffee table and you tumble to the floor.

“Haruno had to grow up and learn that the only way you can protect that which you love is to hold on to it for dear life,” His voice raises to a fever pitch. Your arms rush to cover your face in anticipation of being struck once again.

But it never comes.

When the moment passes, you dare to peek through blurry eyes. The room around you is lush with greenery, an explosion of flowers and vines. A thick oak tree had grown where the sofa was, branches nearly reaching the ceiling. You lower your arms and gaze around the study in a mixture of wonder and fear. Giorno stands above your cowering form, back hunched, sobbing.

“Haruno is dead!” He shouts, collapsing at your feet. The tree breathes and stretches with life, puncturing holes in the roof above. Bits of dust and debris tumble down around you, but Giorno seems to not notice. You watch, entranced, as he cries.

“G-Giorno…” You mutter, afraid to reach out to him but resigned that you must. As much as he has hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to run away.

Giorno remembers the last time he cried. Flashes of his own body impaled on the Colosseum gates, of blood dripping, of Narancia’s limp body as he lay it to rest on a bed of flowers- he remembers it well. It wrenches his heart, twists it so he can’t breathe. Nearly everyone who has ever been important to him has been ripped away by the cruelest of fates.

Except for you.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes, clutching himself tight. For some reason, fate has left you alone. Despite his immense love for you, your body continues to live and breathe just as he does. But you’ve made it abundantly clear that fate doesn’t have to intervene to remove you from his life. If something doesn’t change, he could lose you all the same, “I’m so sorry…”

You tentatively reach out and touch his shoulder. He shakes his head, but makes no move to stop you. Even as your other hand gently strokes his hair, fingertips gliding along his disheveled golden locks, you remain silent. As much as you want to comfort him, you won’t lie to him any longer. His apology remains unaccepted.

“If you’re sorry, if you truly love me like you say you do, you have to let me go…” Giorno’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. He looks terrified. A vision of Haruno weeping as you checked his face for bruises briefly replaces him. Your hands unconsciously slide to cup his reddened cheeks, just like back then, “I love you Giorno, I always have. But this has to be on my own terms. Don’t you see?”

The fear in his eyes dims slightly. His own hands cover yours. They’re larger than they used to be, and more calloused, but comforting all the same. He swallows hard and forces himself to smile softly.

“I understand,” He croaks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. Relief flows through you as you release your breath. Perhaps Haruno truly is gone, and you’ll never reclaim the memories you have with him. But that doesn’t mean Giorno can’t change, that you can’t rebuild your relationship into something just as beautiful as you once had. For the first time in months, you feel a sliver of optimism.

As elation overtakes you, you throw your arms around Giorno, “I knew that I could reach you,” You smile into his neck, tears staining his shoulders. Hesitantly, he holds you back. The last time you touched him voluntarily was a distant memory. As his hand rubs circles into the small of your back, he can’t help but smile himself.

“I understand…” He assures you again, sighing against you. Some of the fauna that covers the room morphs back into furniture as his emotions settle. The burgeoning tree works its way back into a sofa. Giorno holds you tight against him, and for once you don’t mind. You hardly even notice the changes around you, content in your hope that one day Giorno will be himself again. You don’t even notice the thin vine that coils itself up your leg and around your waist.

Up your abdomen.

Over your ribs.

By the time you’re aware of it, it’s reducing your airflow by squeezing tight like a boa constrictor. Puzzled, you open your mouth to speak. Pink flower petals fall out from where your tongue once was. Giorno strokes your hair behind your ears, shushing the panicked noises that escape your throat.

“I understand.”

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

#yandere #yandere!giorno #yandere!giorno x reader #giorno giovanna #yandere!giorno giovanna #sfw #fics #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #part 5 #vento aureo #tw: yandere #tw: captivity #angst #vento aureo spoilers #jjba spoilers #tw: mentions of death #x reader

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baobaojng · 4 years

Text

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first, second, third, fourth, fifth

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - 1800’s jaehyun!au , arranged marriage! au , supernatural-ish?!au , victorian? i think? !au

themes: angst, fluff, (just some implied smut along the way, i’m far too soft)

reminders: i’m half lazy, so i might not be able to drown myself in as much 1800’s facts as i’m supposed to as a responsible author — SO, yes, this will purely rely on fiction

summary: in the present day you are confused; you do not know who you are and you find yourself on an impossible quest to find out— until you wake up in the 1800’s, engaged to a hauntingly beautiful and uptight man who tries to figure out why the girl he’s been betrothed to has drastically changed.

wordcount: 4,024

It has always been so difficult for you to express how disconnected you feel with your own life. Through months and months of therapy you’ve received, none of the diagnoses ever seemed to make perfect sense. Often times when you describe your hurdle, of seeming to be awakened one day into a stage of your life then continuing on as you do not recall anything of your childhood: how you grew up, the people you’ve met, and the tiniest details of your being, they have always tried to pin it down to some psychosis. You even took a few CT-scans to prove that there were no dysfunctional parts in your brain, and some suggested you had amnesia of some sort - but none of them could tell how it came about.

This mystery of a life you have been living has been going on for a year, and in each moment of confusion you never truly understood who you were and how you became this shell of a person. There was a never ending quest of you trying to find out why you felt so out of place.

“Out again?” You hear a voice come from the living room as you go down to pass through and get water from the kitchen.

Moon Taeil notices your attire: the mismatched shades of black thrown in together, but managing to look all the same. He is reading the morning paper as the television plays softly in the background, some tragic news report of a school shooting a few cities away. Background noise for the wicked, a tragedy for those affected. Although, you have to admit that the both of you have never really been so affected by life, or the loss of - sharing the same interest in morbidity and death as if it were a select personality that blended the two of you well.

You see, Moon Taeil was the closest thing you had to family. If you could understand the idea of what ‘family’ was, then it would be him. It seemed that the earliest memory you ever had was in this house you lived in with him, seeing the canvas hung up in the living room - velvet colors hugging the surface, a sad landscape portrayed. When you woke up on the wooden floorboards that afternoon, you had no recollection of anything there. All you knew was that it was warm, and Taeil was staring at you as if he understood what happened. Any first and logical instinct would be to immediately go into hysterics and freak out at the sight of a stranger, but when Taeil first offered a hand for you to get up it only seemed natural to accept his help.

Apparently, your parents both died in a fire years ago, and with nowhere to really go because your family history was close to nonexistent, you were directed to your only known aunt. This aunt was not of any real blood relation, in fact she was the only living close friend of your parents - and she had a son, and he was Taeil. His mother looked after the two of you for only a short while until she died of an illness of the heart, and Taeil was left in charge of you. Before you forgot everything, Taeil had mentioned that you were a practicing engineer that helped through a lot of the improvement of the business the family had, of course you lost some touch to the craft - but you could still easily pick up a thing or two. The family business they ran kept the two of you more than well off; and Taeil, from what you have seen, is really good at managing everything. It was never a hard time trying to get along with him, because it seemed that he did not mind how much you frequented out of the house. To be perfectly fair, it was his fault you were always out of the house anyway.

~ [flasbacks would follow this format]

“Who painted that?” You remember pointing at the painting of the landscape hung up on the living room, asking Taeil this moments after he had to explain to you who you were and who he was.

He was patient enough to nod his head at your question, but his eyes furrowed and his chin extended. “Yuno, an eighteenth century painter.” You hummed in response, still observing the painting hung up. “I’ve collected his works over the years, and he isn’t very popular but he has a very good repertoire.”

“It’s very captivating.”

“Yes, very much so.” You don’t notice, but Taeil could feel how fascinated you were.

A few days later he gave you an old leather bound book, the edges of the pages exposed were already browning.

“What is this for?” You wonder, and he smiles.

“You seemed to really love the painting in the living room, so I thought you might want to see this.” He offers, and you immediately proceed to open at the clasps of the book. You imagined text, or something poetic - but you did not expect to see different sketches and paintings drawn on the pages.

“Is this by...?” You are unsure if you would be able to say the name correctly, afraid of not doing it any justice.

“Yes. I know that there is only this original copy, but rumors say there are a few out there reproduced right after his death, although I wouldn’t know where those are exactly.”

You carefully skip through the pages, “what is this?” It seems, the concept of a book with art from that early on in time is foreign to you.

“In kinder words, it’s a sketchbook.” He shrugs, and you nod off the possibility of it being like that.

But you learn later on in time that you can barely call it a sketchbook, not when you’re absolutely enthralled with the thing. One day, bored out of your mind, you decide to go through the entire thing in one sitting. Something you’ve never done; somehow it has always emotionally exhausted you just looking at one or two pages, and you’d typically close it up and hide it away in the drawer of your bedside table.

Tonight was different as your body was washed through with a wave of nostalgia, and the only thing you could exhaust your emotion on was this damn book.

It was a collection of everything that did not feel real, portraits of people with no names, ponds and lakes with the lilies floating at the surface, and intimidating structures of rooms and buildings. You could and couldn’t understand this painter’s life all at the same time, with each touch of color and coal you felt yourself melt away. When you reached the end of the hundred or so pages, something had caught your eye - the ridged seams of the fiber were sticking out: the last page was ripped and only remnants of black stains were left on whatever else was connected to the book. The only thing you could feel was a surge of hurt, not knowing why you felt it and where it came from. But this missing page ignited some sense of determination to understand your purpose.

This was the beginning to a quest you were determined to finish.

“Yes, I’m going out again. I have to travel two cities over to go to this antique shop, I heard that they sell vintage items.” This was the third time you were going out this week, and it was a Wednesday. You cannot count the many many times you have gone to look for that page, and if you were being realistic about it and the page was meant to be lost - then you did not know how many times you have gone to look for an idea or a clue. Taeil’s collection of Yuno’s works proved to be limited; not answering any of the suspicions you had about the missing page. You did not know exactly what you were looking for, but you were looking for something.

“Be careful.” The only goodbye he bids, and then you’re off again.

Rain greets you the moment you step out of the house, but it is not heavy enough to soak you through the walk to the bus stop. The bus ride you took was rather quiet, only sharing the vehicle with around six other people who were silent as well. The drive would be two hours away, and you knew you would resort to falling asleep to skip the time.

You could not humor yourself with any game on your phone, nor did you enjoy the feeling that social media left you. You could not find it in yourself to listen to music either; always feeling a large disconnection with sound. Taeil once told you that you loved music: the symphonies of strings and the light touches on piano— apparently you were a wonderful dance partner in the ballroom. To which you simply smiled off; you couldn’t argue otherwise.

Sleep captures you, the moving of the vehicle is something you do not mind until you hear the bus dispatcher calling for your stop.

This city looked warm; all the buildings and houses had exposed brick walls, and the streets were lined with shops and orange toned lights. Although the ground was still damp from the light drizzle that was falling down from the sky and the gray clouds inhibited light from passing through, it did not seem sad in these streets. You would have very easily gotten lost, but the dimmest lit shop was the most distracting - and it was exactly the place you were looking for.

Everything about this place was much much larger than you anticipated; the way the place looked from the outside was very deceiving of it’s size. Little passage ways with walls of items and trinkets were countless, like a maze you were trying to skim past through. There were jars, and cans - silverware that was eaten away by the dust. Statues of gods, little porcelain men, and taxidermies of butterflies with little labels on the glass that encased the frame. You could feel the need to sneeze every few seconds each time you turned to face a new corner or direction.

Finding the art section already turned you into a mess; the piles and piles of old frames with mystery paintings were set up in many stacks. You wondered aloud if you were ever going to be able to get through all of this in one go, you had to thank the heavens that they were arranged per ten years.

Now this was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

To you right, Roman paintings of men in red capes. No you did not need that.

Next to that, Greek figurines. Definitely did not need those.

To the father right, Mesopotamian spoons and clay objects. No, now you had to definitely start looking somewhere else.

You scoured through the Mongol works, and those from imperial Japan. Until, bingo. Works from British India next to the works of the Victorian era.

Hands fumbling into the large pockets of your trench coat, you were trying to reach for the book that created a bulky mess inside your clothing. But it alarms you when your hands press against what feels like a stray page, and you immediately fish your hands out to see what it is.

To your surprise, all in black ink - like the remnants of those from the torn page from your book - is a portrait of your own self, with eyes sad, a wavering darkness behind. Body reacting in shock your feet bring you two steps behind, where you knock over a few pieces of silverware.

From around the corner, you hear a panicked voice call for you. He sounds as if he ran for miles with an expression so relieved to see you, “miss, we have been looking all over for you.” This man with white hair, peculiarly dressed in a tailored uniform, he looks familiar.

You realize, he looks exactly like one of the portraits drawn in one of the pages you have pondered upon when you viewed them.

As if your own body cannot take this torment of confusion, you feel your pulse rise to your head.

And then you faint.

“I will see you there soon.” A voice whispers into your ear, unmistakably Moon Taeil’s, and you wake from your slumber.

It would be impossible to ignore the throbbing sensation you could feel buzzing through the back of your neck. So you try to sit up in your wake, moaning terribly at the sensation. This all had to he some terrible dream.

“Miss, you are awake!” Your eyes are wide open, and you definitely would want to believe that this is all still a dream.

“What year is it?” The question rolls out of your lips naturally, because you can definitely note that you do not feel as though you are in a familiar environment.

“It is the time of Queen Victoria, miss.” Goodness, you didn’t expect anybody to answer you back. You had hoped he was a figment of your imagination. The time of Queen Victoria would have meant you were somewhere around two hundred years back, and to anyone who did not see through the situation with less panic and an open mind would think how this was all impossible.

“Where am I?” You say with squinted eyes, but you know you do not know where you are.

“Why you are back in the manor, miss. In your own quarters.” The man that scared you earlier in the antique shop mentioned, and you try to take a look around inside the room. No LED lights and modern dressers, just candles and carpets— lacquered wooden furniture, velvet decorated everything. No. No. No. No. No! This had to be a joke, right?

“My quarters?” No way in hell this was your’s, how could you have something like this in the middle of the fucking times?

“Yes,” he says, worriedly, “my lord has yet to be told of your return, but I do believe you need to recover from your fall.” It was either this was a horrible prank, a kidnapping gone wrong, or he was genuinely speaking his own truth: perhaps he did know you? Surely this was a mix up, maybe he mistook you for somebody else.

“Might I ask,” in your head you realize that you can take advantage of his attentiveness to you - that you might be able to get a little bit more knowledge of the situation, “what is my role in this household?”

“Must you ask such an obvious question?” He gawks, but you pretend that your head aches and you can see how he falters even more.

“It’s just, my head. I believe I might have gotten a concussion from my fall.” Your acting is perfect. Maybe you broke through something here.

“Oh!” He is alarmed. “You are the soon-to-be lady of the house!” Interesting, that would be enough to give you some clue as to why this man is acting overprotective of you. Miss, my lord, the manners. He must be a servant of the time.

“Lady of the house?”

“Soon to be, miss Y/N. You have been living in the manor for a year now, ever since you were determined to take my lord’s hand in marriage.” He used your name. Your name, how did he know your name?

Okay, maybe something was happening and maybe it was true. There was absolutely no way at this point.

“Have you pledged any of your loyalties to me?” You panic, asking him this just so you would be able to take things easier. If you were stuck in a time frame so far away from your own, you had to figure out who you were in this life.

“Yes, but not any more than that to my lord.” He answers honestly.

“Then if I had told you that I’ve lost some of my memories because of my fall, would you tell anyone that I was crazy?” You say, knowing that in this era memory loss could very well be attributed to being a loony.

“I have seen things beyond my own comprehension, miss. I am sure I can keep this much a secret.” He offers a sad smile, but he no longer seems as alarmed as earlier. “Although you would have to tell me the extents of your memory loss; I do not believe the other residents of the manor would take this news with kindness. I would not want to give them any more power to scrutinize your every move. The only thing I wish for is good fortune for your union with my lord, they need not intervene where they are not needed.”

You nod, trying to process everything all at once. “I’m afraid it is everything I have forgotten.” But he only nods his head as if he was expecting that answer from you.

“I will make sure you know enough before the young lord arrives from his travel.” He sends a bow and makes his way out the large double doors.

“What is your name?” You ask him before he is able to exit.

“Yuta Nakamoto, it could also work the other way around, miss.”

“Thank you, Yuta.” You offer him a smile, and he returns the same gesture.

Looking down at the clothing you are wearing, you notice they are still the same things you wore to the antique shop. Remembering the book, you reach out into your pockets and realize that it is no longer there.

Despite your efforts to constantly pinch yourself and slap yourself at the most random times to prove that none of this is real, you find yourself stuck in this manor - in the burrows of time, where there is nothing and no one who can explain to you why you were here - nothing ever really works. Unfortunately, even through the hundreds of times you find yourself pacing inside the room and repeatedly putting your hands in and out of the large pocket of your trench coat, no real answers are offered to you. The moment you breathe in as loudly as you do, you begin to accept your fate.

Then again, you’d like to believe that there is some divine purpose as to why you are set out to be here, but you wonder why it has to be as cruel as this? Was this perhaps a punishment?

To you and Yuta’s advantage, the manor was mostly empty for the two days it took for him to explain everything to you. Only the housemaids who tended to the kitchen and the other chores were there with you.

“I need for you to tell me what their impressions are of me, otherwise I wouldn’t know how to act around them.” You tell Yuta with caution before you enter the kitchen through the stairs of nook near where your quarters were, he woke you up very early to begin with what he called a ‘grand tour.’ You had change out of your questionable modern garments - discovering the scarily large closets filled with corset bodices and petticoats, large layered skirts that you heavily questioned. The thing that relieved you the most was that they were all dyed in your preferred black, although you could not shake off the image of your own portrait off your mind and how that all came to be.

“No worries miss, they adore you.” He says as if it were nothing. And once they meet you, they let out screams of relief. All of them claiming to have missed you, wondering about your whereabouts.

“How long was I gone, Yuta?” Walking through the west wing where apparently his lord kept all the rooms strictly for scholarly uses, you ask this very question. If time and space were any similar from where you came from, you would have been gone for a year.

“About four months, miss.” Not the answer you were expecting. “Although your disappearance has not been noted elsewhere as a disappearance. The lord of the manor has been very upset ever since you had gone, but he made sure to let the news come out as if you had studied far away for the time being.” And there it is again, the mention of this man you are meant to be engaged to.

“Why would he say that if my whereabout were uncertain?” You arch a brow.

Yuta lets a sigh leave his lips as you walk through the rotunda, with the goal to ultimately reach the foyer so he can show you what the gardens look like. “Image is important to my lord, if you have not noticed how grand his home is - I’m sure you will soon come to terms with the idea that you are marrying a very rich man, this means that he has to be sure that all words about him are only kind and unsuspecting. You are from a rather good background yourself, miss; never has anyone seen such a capable lady. His father struck a fair deal with regard to your hand in marriage, and the reason why my lord is able to call all of this his is because he did not refuse you among the other hundreds of choices he had lined up. He had to stray away from the truth because he did not want any panic to ensue on the basis of your sudden loss, but part of me wants to believe that he also hoped that you were going to come back on your own and that you disappeared for good reason.”

Realistically speaking, you find the idea of entering this life with no idea who you were meant to be already disturbing. But the added bonus of being somebody else’s fiancée, granting that you do not know him either, is absolutely nettling.

What did he look like? You think that you must not allow your imagination to go wild, and your mind would settle on a plump man who’s absolutely subordinate to the wishes of his parents. Maybe, just a little pathetic.

How did he treat you? Yuta’s constant adoration for his boss makes you want to believe that he was all kind and benevolent. But you were in the 1800’s! He must have been a perverted misogynist for all you cared!

Did he love you? Apparently you have been engaged for the better part of two years, and yet you haven’t married. But it would mean that you have been living here for quite some time now. Did it mean that the two of you were any familiar with each other?

Just when you expected for the surprises to be over, you notice the large painting hanging by the foyer. A freakishly detailed piece of work that spoke through the many different weavings of people, a crowd painted in front of you - and their limbs seemed to be moving based on how beautiful this piece was painted. You could not mistake this piece for anything else but that of Yuno’s work, and this you could tell by how you memorized those brush strokes and each emotion that flooded through your own body.

Maybe there was purpose to your arrival here in this period of time.

But then the large deep brown wooden doors decorated with accents of gold open, and your eyes skip to find out who just arrived.

The view of a man is the first thing that comes into view, and through his shellshocked expression your own body heats up at the sight of this man. He had the most beautiful hair, impossibly colored down to the richest regal shade of blue. His jaw, the way it clenched, accenting the proportion of his nose and the thickness of the eyebrows that framed everything together. His eyes, the gaze they held. God, this man was art if it were possible.

“My lord.” Yuta greets, panicked. While your eyes skip back and forth to the butler and to the man he had just greeted.

Oh, this was him.

end of first part.

next: second part

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

I just wanted to make you smile again; 10th Doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay to the anon who requested this fic THANK YOU FOR BEING SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PATIENT WITH ME!!!! To those anons and users who have sent me requests literally since last year I thank you all for your patience, I AM GETTING THEM DONE SLOWLY BUT SURELY. I’m already in process of doing another DW fic w/13th doctor (one of the first requests I got when I opened them last year) so I hope you all enjoy this fic.

This takes place after the episode Journey’s end so to those that haven’t seen the episode yet SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Angst and fluff is what this fic is. Enjoy my lovelies and until next time ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

_________________________________________________________

Things have been—tough. The Daleks, one of my daddy’s biggest enemies nearly had us and almost succeeded in destroying all of life and matter as we know it. But thanks to some fast thinking and with the help of a clone of my dad, we managed to stop Davros as well as the rest of the Daleks.

But honestly that was the easy part. The hardest was saying goodbye to all of our friends. Rose and her mum went back to the parallel world with the meta-human clone of my daddy, Captain Jack took Martha and Mickey off on another adventure, Sarah Jane (an old friend of my dad’s long before I was born) went back home, and Donna—oh poor, poor Donna.

Daddy said that in order to help stop the Daleks, Donna, who had touched the severed hand of my dad when he first became this new version of himself, gained so much knowledge of the Timelords and of our home that it could overwhelm her brain and eventually kill her. So my dad had to absorb all memory of Timelord knowledge, including all the times she spent with us.

After taking her back home, daddy told her father that it was too dangerous for her to remember anything. If there was a glimpse of her recovering her memories, she would die. So my dad and I left her and her family and he never went back.

Since that day, almost seven months later, he still carries that guilt. And what’s worse is that he hasn’t been the same. He doesn’t smile as much as he used to before. I think out of everything that I love about my daddy, it’s his smile that always made me feel happy and safe.

I stepped out of my room to see him where he usually was, standing at the controls with that dazed but intense look on his face. I looked down at paper butterfly and cautiously walked towards my dad. It’s always a touch and go of how he’ll react whenever he’s in that deep haze. One time he actually shouted at me and I was scared to even go near him for an entire week till he apologized to me with some Turkish delights.

“Daddy.” I said softly. “Umm…uhh daddy?” he snapped out of his daze and looked down at me.

“Oh (Y/n). Sorry I was just—I was just trying to find….nothing. What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Well I—finished my paper butterfly and I-wanted to give it to you.” I held it out to him and he looked down at me. He knelt down and took the butterfly from my hands and I saw his eyes grow soft.

“It’s beautiful love. Thank you.” he gently ruffled my hair and placed my butterfly right along the controls. It didn’t work.

I had hoped that my paper butterfly would get him to smile. He always smiled whenever I made him little trinkets of my own design, or beautiful art projects that I’ve seen on Earth. I thought that by doing an art project, he’d smile again but it didn’t work.

I was currently in my room reading some books written back in the 20th century. I’ve always found that time period to be rather splendid. It was a simpler time (if you don’t count the 2 World wars, the Great depression, and every war after that. You know why must humans always start wars?)

Anyways, the start of the 20th century is always my favorite place. It’s quiet, tranquil, and peaceful. A nice place, especially out in the countryside. People can have picnics, host carnivals, and yeah the grown men partake in Foxhunt but I think it’s a barbaric sport and yet they call it tradition.

Maybe if—maybe if we stayed there for a while, daddy could get better and smile once again. I think the more time we stay in the TARDIS and just keep going through space and time, the more unhappy daddy’s gonna get, like I said he always gets lost in his head and the more bad things that happen around him, the more he keeps it bottled up inside and the more sadder he gets.

The only question now was this—how was I gonna get there? I don’t know how to drive the TARDIS cause daddy always told me to keep my grabby little paws off of it. Oh wait that’s it! I raced over to my drawer and pulled out the middle one and dug through it till I found what I was looking for.

A special teleportation watch gifted to me by Uncle Jack when my dad was in his previous form (just shortly after we first met him). I placed the watch on my wrist and I set the time and date that I wanted to go to. Once the coordinates were typed in, I pressed the center of the watch and I disappeared from my room and went to go set up my surprise for daddy.

*10th Doctor’s POV*

I was fiddling around with the controls when I turned and looked up at my daughter’s butterfly. For months now she’s been making these little trinkets and art projects for me, and I really haven’t been fair to her. A lot has happened to us, especially with what happened to Donna, and I hate to admit this to myself but I’ve been neglecting my little butterfly.

Maybe she would like it if I took her to see her favorite constellation, or maybe Barcelona (she always did like Barcelona). Oh! No wait! The Music of the Spheres! Yes brilliant! She and I could use some music in our life, the sound of the universe singing to us.

“Hey (Y/n)! Can you come out here for a second?” I called out to her. No response. Okay I know it usually takes her a bit of time to come down from her room but usually she’d be right here by now. “(Y/n)? (Y/n) I said can you come here please?” bah she must be listening to that loud music again, that lass I tell you what.

I left the console room and headed on over to her room and saw that her door was shut which was surprising cause she usually keeps her door open. I knocked on it and said.

“Poppet, are you okay? You’re not—upset or anything are you?” I still didn’t hear anything from her. “Look I—I know we’ve been through a lot the past several months, and I have no excuse for not speaking to you. I’m sorry. So—can you please open the door so we can talk?” still nothing.

Alright I know she has a right to be upset but she can’t give me the silent treatment forever. I opened up the door and snapped.

“Alright little madam you listen here I—” it was then I saw that she wasn’t in her room. “(Y/n)?” I looked around her room to see if she was hiding in her closet again (she always takes every advantage to jump out and scare me) but when I saw that she wasn’t there, that’s when I began to get worried.

As I left her room and began to look all around the TARDIS from the backroom pool, to the library I still couldn’t find her.

“C’mon poppet don’t do this to me.” I searched high and low, near and far and every crack in between but she still wasn’t around. “No, no, no, no, no love don’t do this to me! (Y/n)!”

I raced back towards the console and went over to the computer monitor and I quickly typed in her lifeform energy. Since she was the only Timelord in existence (well next to me), I knew that she could be pinpoint at any time in any era she might be in. I only hope that I can get to her before—no! NO DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!! You WON’T lose her like you lost Donna!

“C’mon you blasted thing LOAD!!!” I screamed at the computer before finally I got a hit. London, England 1908. Of course, she always said the start of the 20th century was her favorite time period. I punched in the coordinates and flipped the switch and soon the TARDIS started back up and I was sailing back in time over 100 years into the past.

Once I arrived, I peeked out of the TARDIS and found myself adjacent to a large park. It was pretty peaceful, families were out and about doing their normal human interactions. I shut the doors to the TARDIS and I quickly raced over to the park and searched for (Y/n).

This was where her last known readings were at. At this exact spot so where could that little troublemaker be at? I walked up to a couple and said.

“Hi sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have found a little girl around 5 years old with (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes? She’s my daughter and she’s wondered off again.”

“No sorry. We haven’t seen any little girls fitting that description.” Said the man as he and his wife continued on their walk. I then found another couple who seemed a more upper-class couple due to the diamond necklace around the woman’s neck.

“Excuse me could you both please help me I’m looking for my daughter have either of you……”

“We don’t have time to look for lost children, that’s what the servants are for.” Said the man.

“And who loses their child anyway? Such irresponsibility.” The woman snide. I looked at them offendedly and said.

“At least I don’t dump my child on anyone else! I’m surprised that people like you could even have children.” They looked at me appalled before huffing and walking away from me.

I grunted and adjusted my jacket trying to compose myself when a small Cockney accent said.

“You said you were looking for (Y/n)?” I turned around and there was a young ginger haired boy with freckles speckled all over his face. His bright blue eyes staring up at me and he wore a paper boy’s uniform.

“Yeah that’s my daughter’s name. Do you know where she is?”

“Course I do Gov. Just got done talking with her before I started my work sir. She’s right by the lake.”

“The Lake! Oh thank you lad. Thank you so much.”

“No problem, good luck governor.” I raced off towards the lake and when I got there, I soon saw my daughter sitting right by the lake surrounded by flowers and in her lap it looked like she was in the process of making a flower crown.

The important thing was that she was safe, but that little missy is sooo going to get it now.

I trudged my way towards her and exclaimed.

“(Y/n)!” she stopped her work and turned around. Her big (e/c) eyes staring up at me and a smile spread across her face. She stood up and ran towards me and hugged around my legs.

“Daddy you came!”

“Yes I did.” I knelt down and began to check to see if she was hurt or worst case scenario been replaced by a Graske. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m perfectly fine.”

“Answer me this then. Who was the first companion that we had together?”

“Rose Tyler.” Okay this was my baby girl. I immediately hugged her and whispered to her as I rest my head on top of hers.

“I thought I had lost you.” I then separated from her before scolding her vert sternly, “Do you have any idea how worried I was!? You leave your room with no note! How on earth did you leave the TARDIS without my knowledge?!”

“Uncle Jack’s time jump watch.” She said nervously as she held out her wrist. I looked down and right there was the time teleport watch that Jack had given her shortly after we met him for the first time in my previous state.

“That figures. Remind me to never let him give you anymore teleportation gifts without my permission.” I muttered to myself. “Bottom line is that you left the TARDIS without my permission and had me scared to death! What if something happened to you hmm? Did it ever cross your mind about how that would make me feel!?”

Yes I know my voice was steadily getting angrier and angrier but she should’ve realized that my one rule for her is to never, ever, ever leave the TARDIS without my permission or knowledge and she broke that rule.

“I—I’m sorry daddy. I just……thought that if I brought you here, you would be happy.” My anger quickly vanished and confusion now took its place.

“What?” I asked her.

“Ever since—” she deeply sighed. “After what happened with Donna you never smile anymore. No matter what I’ve done, I could never get you to smile. Your real smile, the smile that always made me feel loved and protected. I thought that maybe we could—stay here for a while till you were happy again.” She looked down with regret.

I rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair before looking back down at her. I cupped my hands over her face and I said to her.

“What would I ever do without you my little butterfly?” she smiled softly.

“So we can stay?” she asked.

“For now.” I answered her. She squealed happily and immediately hugged me around my neck repeatedly telling me thank you. I smiled and embraced my baby girl back and kissed the top of her head as I rocked her back and forth.

This little madam truly does have me wrapped around her little finger, and she seems to know it as well. But she was right. Staying in one area made you stop and admire what’s around you, and not stay trapped inside your head letting your demons torment you.

We stayed in 1908 for about five months just enjoying each other’s company. Going to the park every day, having picnics and tea parties out in the garden of our rented little cottage, and stargazing every night teaching her more about the galaxy and the stars.

For the first time ever, I felt—peaceful, no regrets, no painful reminders of what I had to do to Donna, it was just me and my daughter.

#doctor who #doctor who fandom #doctor who fanfic #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who fanfiction #10th doctor #10th doctor fanfic #10th doctor fanfiction #10th doctor imagine #10th doctor imagines #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x child reader #david tennant

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tloujm · 4 years

Text

Part III: Birthday Surprise

Author’s Notes: The plot and setting may look familiar to you guys in this. I mixed Abby’s trip with Owen with Joel’s trip with Ellie. While I could have made the museum romantic, I figured the Aquarium was more so. Also, this takes place several months after the 2nd chapter. To help imagery, it is late Autumn/fall. It’s cold and flurries of snow fall but not a full fledged winter yet.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s your birthday and Joel has a surprise for you. Despite being distant with him, you decide to go along and feed into your feelings for him. If you were waiting for cute, romantic Joel, this is it. This is the beginning.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel has loved you since he made the choice to leave the hospital with you in his arms. That was when he admitted it to himself at least. He constantly tried doing little things to make you feel better, especially after having a fight. Sometimes, that just meant giving you space. He held on tight to the moments he got to have with you that did not involve you bringing up the incident. In those moments, he caught a glimpse of what life could be like with you and he had a strong desire for that. All he wanted to do was protect you and forget about the Fireflies.

The day before your birthday, you responded to a knock on your door only to find a wood carved version of your horse with a note attached sitting on the ground. You could tell it was from Joel by his handwriting. It explained that he had a surprise for you and it involved an early start. It was your birthday, so your positive disposition allowed you to accept his surprise.

He wasn’t kidding when he said early start. Joel was at your door knocking before sunrise. You groaned before lazily throwing your legs over the bed. He knocked again with more force before you made it to the door. He wished you a happy birthday before walking into your makeshift living room. Your eyes were tired, but you gave him a smile nonetheless when you thanked him. He sat on the couch, rubbing his hands together in front of your space heater while he waited for you to get dressed. Apparently, the surprise involved a hike to get there so you dressed in layers.

By the time the two of you made it past the gate with your horses, the sun had begun to rise. It was not often that you got up while it was still dark. Sunsets were more of your thing. Watching the sun rise, however, was a different kind of beautiful. The sky turned brighter shades of blue as the two of you rode through unbeaten paths. At one point, the woods became too thick for the horses and you two had to start hiking. Joel secured both of the animals before guiding you in the direction of the surprise.

“Alright, c’mon.” Joel said.

“I’m going to start guessing now.” You stated.

“You want to spoil your surprise?” He asked.

“I’ve held out long enough.” You responded. “Is it an alien crash site?”

“Stop trying to guess. I ain’t tellin’ you.” He said with his back to you.

“Okay.” You let silence fall between you before guessing again. “So is it a nice, new car? With heated seats and one of those tvs that hang from the ceiling to watch movies on?”

He sighed playfully. “You’re not gonna guess.” You fell quiet, trying to think of something even more outrageous. The two of you approached a ledge as the path grew narrower. Joel pushed back a bare branch to give you just enough room to scoot by without falling over the edge. “Mind your step.” He warned as he gestured for you to go first.

The walkway was so narrow that there was no other choice but for your backside to brush up against Joel’s body as you walked past him. You took it slow as to mind your step. He was so close, you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Back in the day, you would have used this opportunity to flirt with him just to watch his face go red. After safely making it passed, you did the same for him and held the branch down while he walked across.

“Fuck it, I’m done guessing.” You spoke up, filling the air with sound.

“Oh, good.” He replied.

“But really though, is it a movie or something?” You got really excited before he could answer. “Don’t tell me you found some old abandoned theater and dusted off the projector and somehow figured out how to power it back up.”

“Um, no.” He said, slight disappointment in his voice. “Would you have liked that?”

“I would like anything you give me, Joel.” You replied genuinely. After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you come upon a clearing riddled with frozen over puddles. In the middle of it all was a huge temple front building. You approached the steps ahead of Joel. “Is this it?” You asked with a smile on your face. You didn’t quite know what it was, but having earned an art history degree, you had a penchant for big, old buildings.

He nodded. “Yes.”

You run up the steps like Rocky during his famous training scene in Philly. The grand doors had a faded logo painted on. It appeared to be of a dolphin and a whale swimming together like the Pisces sign. You waited for Joel to catch up with you before opening the doors. He watched as you made your way inside the large lobby. There was an enormous whale hanging from the ceiling with two grand staircases on either side leading to separate wings. The dead remnants of overgrown plants decorated the dark blue walls. As you walked closer to the information desk in the middle of the room, snow began to fall from the ceiling. You looked up and noticed that part of the roof was missing. It looked dilapidated rather than the result of an attack. It allowed in the only source of light, bouncing off the walls to cast a grayish-blue atmosphere. As you made your way further in, you found a mural on the wall of different aquatic animals.

“I think this is one of those zoos but for fish.” Joel quipped.

“Shut up.” You said playfully. He chuckled.

You walked up the stairs and immediately became attracted to a room with a shark head adorning the doorway. You headed in that direction first, but Joel warned you not to. You asked why, barely giving him the time to answer before you ignored his plea and continued to the door. It looked like a lounge room for adults. The walls were really just floor-to-ceiling windows. It gave an amazing view of the small lake behind the building. There was a bar, a large tv and multiple couches. You made your way around one couch and realized why he didn’t want you to go in the room. A skeleton, mostly decomposed, was lying on it, resting, waiting.

“I didn’t want to move the body.” Joel spoke up. “He looked too comfortable.” He referred to the pillow behind the skeleton’s back and the blanket draped over the legs. You notice a piece of paper lying on his lap; his boney fingers keeping it in place. “(Y/N), no.” Joel protested as he watched you reach for it.

“If it wasn’t meant to be read, then it wouldn’t have been written.” You responded. The paper had all kinds of stains on it, most likely from the decomposition of the body. The writing was faded and barely legible. “ ‘I’m taking Max away from here. He can’t spend his life inside this rotting building. All he’ll do is take on your weaknesses. I want Max to see what it looks like when people are willing to stand up for what they want. The world is harsh. It’s up to us to change it. Maybe we’ll come back someday. If we do, I hope you’re not still sitting in your stupid, fucking chair’. Wow. His kids ran off and left him.”

“Jesus.” Joel mustered.

The two of you go back downstairs and eventually find a doorway shrouded by dead vines. You pushed passed them, holding open a space for Joel to follow. Painted in large white letters are the words “Max’s place”. On the other side of the doors was the gift shop. You guessed that Max used this as his room while his family stayed there. Joel let you look around the pamphlets and trinkets. He watched on with a wide grin before he beckoned you over to the open elevator.

“C’mon over here.” He said.

You approached the opening and looked down. “If I knew you’d brought me out here to kill me by pushing me down this shaft, I would have stayed home”.

“I’m not gonna kill you, darlin’, but we are going down.”

“You’re joking.” You said flatly.

“Nope.” He popped the “P” sound playfully as he climbed onto the ladder against the elevator shaft. He held out his hand for you to take. “It’ll be ok.”

“It better be.” You whined. He took your hand and guided it onto a rung. He began to climb down and you followed.

He jumped off the ladder first, causing the elevator wires to shake. It made you nervous but you persevered. You gently hopped off the ladder onto the elevator roof and followed Joel through the opening of the new floor. It was very dark save from the light coming through the glass windows. You were in the basement level because there was nothing but water on the other side of them. You walked up to the plaques in front of them and read about the animals that were no longer there. You wondered if they’d been hunted or simply died when there was no one left to take care of them. Joel stayed until you were done reading. He followed you around the corner and stopped in front of a large fort made of cardboard boxes. It had a child’s touch as it was painted over with cartoonish figures.

“Solid fort, Max.” You said.

Joel approached the entrance. “Ladies first.” He held the flaps open. You got on your hands and knees to crawl through.

“Oh my God, Joel!” You exclaimed in a breathy tone. “You gotta see this! Have you seen this?”

He nodded. You turned to him in disappointment. “I had to secure the place before I showed it to you. ‘Sides, it’s your surprise, not mine.”

“How did you find this place?”

“I found it a few months back when it was warmer. I was on patrol with Nick. We came in from back where the lake is.” Joel explained.

“This place is beautiful, Joel.” You said, almost in a whisper. The room that you had entered was semi-circular and it was all glass. Even below your feet was glass. You couldn’t lie, it scared you for a moment. You were taken off guard when a small school of fish swam by underneath you. “Joel! Did you see that?”

“I sure did.” He replied with a smile. Through the algae and seaweed covering the windows, light peeked through and projected a dark blue glow. As the water on the other side moved, so did it's reflection on your skin. Joel gazed at the sight before him. You looked ethereal and it damn near took his breath away. He watched as your eyes filled with wonder. It was the purest thing he’d seen since the world fell apart. He allowed himself to gaze at you a few moments longer before he slid his backpack off his shoulders. “Now, this took a mighty great effort to find.” He said to get your attention. You turned around as he reached into his backpack. He pretended to dig around to prolong the suspense.

You rolled your eyes. “Joel!”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. Here.” He pulled out a light brown ukulele. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” He watched as your face broke into a smile. It was a wholesome experience and it made him warm inside.

She whispered a thank you and took the ukulele. “I can’t believe you remembered. You said that you’d teach me how to play the guitar and I said--”

“You said you didn’t want to play the guitar. You wanted to learn how to play the ukulele and I said I didn’t know if I could help you with that.”

You looked up at him and met his eyes. “But you said you’d try.”

He took a step closer and watched as you fiddled with the strings. You experimented with the sound of each one before making up a little, silly tune. It was not perfect, in fact it was far from it. Still, you enjoyed playing. You even did a little dance as you plucked the strings. You twirled around and caught a glimpse of a shadow. You knew it wasn’t Joel; it moved too fast. The high pitched sound of the ukulele faded out as you stepped up to the glass. There it was again! Was it a large fish? It was too small to be a dolphin. What could survive in this cold water? You watched and waited. Joel came up behind you and did the same. A seal swam out from its hiding place and swam up to you. It's big black eyes gazed at yours. You were probably the first person that it's come across in a very long time. You let out a breathy chuckle as you watched it swim away.

“I do okay?” Joel’s voice filled the room. It was the softest you ever heard him speak.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You turned to him with a smile. His grin spread wide to match yours. “Thank you, Joel.”

He continued to gaze at you with loving eyes. It made your heart flutter and stomach do back flips. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next but all you knew was that the atmosphere was perfect. You wanted to kiss him, but was too scared. He took another step forward and you let him. Now, the two of you were close enough to touch. He leaned down and closed his eyes as he did. You saw what he was doing and you wanted it so bad but…

“Joel.” You said his name while pulling your head back.

“I’m...I’m sorry.” He looked down at his feet.

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not you. I just...I’m scared.”

He playfully scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“No, it's not that.” You paused for a moment. It sounded logical in your head, but you were afraid it’d sound stupid out loud. “But what if I infect you?”

Joel looked taken aback. “What?”

“I’m a carrier of the disease. What if I'm contagious? I can spread it to you from a kiss like it was a cold.” You spoke with genuine worry.

He let out a small laugh. “You know how many times you’ve sneezed in the house without covering your mouth? If spores would have come out. I would have breathed them in and I’d be long gone by now.”

You look down in shame before laughing yourself. “I’ll remember to cover my mouth next time.”

Joel caressed your cheek, prompting you to look back up at him. You smiled, inviting him to try again and so he did. Joel leaned down and this time, you reached up and met him in the middle. You took his bottom lip between yours. His beard brushed against your skin but it was a welcome feeling. The two of you stopped for a split second before going in again for another kiss. Joel was the first to pull away. He knew it was the first time that the two of you had kissed and didn’t want to ruin the moment by going too far. He looked down at you and realized he was ready to go as far as you’d take him, however far that was. Kissing you was a heady sensation and it was something he’d been wanting to feel for a while now.

******

You start to let Joel in more. Your romantic feelings for him overcame your apprehension. It still lingered in the background, but you convinced yourself to focus on the present. What happened at the hospital had already been done, right? You thought to yourself. What if Joel was telling the truth? You rarely allowed yourself to play that angle. Joel and his brother respectively left the Fireflies for a reason. Maybe they did something that rubbed him the wrong way and he didn’t want to stay there and wait for me to wake up. You couldn’t help but trust Joel after he fought to keep you alive during the journey out west. He must have had a good reason, whatever it was.

Preparing for the Jackson winter was harsh but focusing on the present was easy and your present was with Joel. He walked you up to your door the night you two came back from the aquarium. He stood there awkwardly as if he wasn’t the one who initiated a kiss from you first. The long ride back showed you that you hadn’t infected him after all, which gave you the confidence to pull him into a goodnight kiss. You caught his eyes widening in shock as you pulled away. It was so different from the Joel that you were used to. Moments like these excited you in discovering more about him.

It’d been a very long time since you were in a relationship and quite honestly you weren’t in many of them especially after the zombie apocalypse. You could only imagine it was the same for Joel given his guarded demeanor and the fact that he never talked about any past relationships. The morning after your birthday, he made you breakfast. He did a damn good job with what little he had in the fridge. It was easy to tell how much effort he put in it between setting the table and plating the food. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of attention. You were never good at hiding your feelings, but with Joel, you didn’t want to. People in the settlement noticed the change in your demeanor. The glow on your face. The pep in your step. Lynn definitely noticed and she wouldn’t let it go. You spilled everything to her. She soaked it up like a sponge but couldn’t believe it. “Joel?” She kept asking. Unlike you, Joel was much better at concealing his feelings. He always came off as a tough nut to crack. After a year and some change in Jackson, the townsfolk found him easier to get along with, but he was still a closed book. It made you wonder if even his own brother would be surprised by how gentle he could be.

You didn’t see Joel again until later that night after his shift had ended. You left a note on the fridge door letting him know that you’d be down at The Watering Hole, the only bar in Jackson, if he wasn’t too tired to meet you there. You sat around waiting for him, nursing your gin and tonic. You missed cell phones for this very reason. If he was running late out on patrol or was too tired to come out, he could just call or shoot you a text. This blind waiting was almost too much to bear. You figured that you would just meet him at home and come back out later if he was up for it. Just as you got up, however, you spotted him walking through the door. You watched as he said hi to the barman before scanning the crowd. He smiled when his eyes found yours. You beckoned him over with your finger.

“Perfect timing,” You began as he sat across from you. “I ordered you a dinner a while ago, so it should be out here any minute.”

“Thank you.” The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled. You noticed that he looked tired.

“We could go home as soon as the food comes if you’re tired.” You suggested.

He waved his hand at the idea. “No, no. I want to be here with you.” He laid that same hand down on the table, palm up, encouraging you to lay yours on top. You did so and his fingers enclosed your smaller hand, giving it a squeeze. It was his first public display of affection. On the outside, it didn’t look like much, but it meant a lot to the both of you.

“Joel,” You paused, not knowing how to start the conversation burning in your mind. “I, um....” You were nervous and you didn’t know why. What happened to that confidence you had on your birthday. Just as you decided to begin again, the barman came over with Joel’s food and drink.

He thanked him before turning back to you. “I know there’s somethin’ here, (Y/N). I’m not alone in thinking this am I?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, Joel. I want this, whatever this is, to be something.”

“Whatever this is, huh?” He repeated. “Well how about this,” With his hand still grasping yours, his voice turned serious. “Go steady with me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Go steady? I don’t think the kids say that anymore.” You lightly made fun of his wording. Still it was everything you wanted to hear.

His face broke into a half smile. “Well, we ain’t kids are we?” The smile turned sly as he watched for your response.

You shook your head. “Not at all.” You said coyly.

#TLOU #tlou 2 #tlou joel #tlou part 2 #Joel Miller #Joel #fanfic #fanfiction #Joelxreader #Joel x reader #OC #The Last of Us #Joel fanfic

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writing-wrxngs · 3 years

Text

A bit of world building: The Minecraft family home

All of my one shots take place in the same universe. I’ve written about it before: the world that SBI hail from before coming to the Dream SMP is just called the Homeland for ease. I can’t really think of a name and it’s not mentioned by name enough for it to matter. The gist is, it’s a modern fantasy world, amalgamating our real world and Minecraft. It’s mostly American based bc I am unfortunately an American, but I put my own twist on things if I can and if I have the proper knowledge about other countries ways. Anyways, I just wanted to give some bits on the home Techno, Wilbur and Tommy grew up in.

It’s a two story home, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. In general it’s very generic looking. You’ve seen one suburban home, you’ve seen them all. It’s got a fireplace in the living room and your usual modern conveniences and is in general a nice place. Very cozy, I’d like to imagine.

Downstairs

The first floor is a living room, a kitchen/dining room area, a playroom and a bathroom. I won’t be explaining the normal rooms, we all know what those look like.

The Playroom

As the boys get older, the playroom becomes more and more multipurpose. When Wilbur and Techno get to be old enough to start learning how to fight, one of the corners becomes dedicated to fighting equipment for spars. Another corner becomes dedicated to musical instruments as the boys pick that hobby up too.

Once Tommy outgrows toys, it just ends up becoming a “practice room”, with the corners just growing to their respective halves of the room. The room is the boys complete responsibility. Phil made a deal with them where as long they take care of the room themselves, he won’t bother any of them about what they do in there. (With logical exceptions)

When the boys move out, it’s mostly converted into a study and a place for Phil to keep his collection of knowledge, research and other things he’s gained during his adventuring career. It also houses things like family memories, too.

Upstairs

The second floor is where all the bedrooms and the second bathroom is. Tommy’s room is at the end of the hall by the top of the stairs. Phil’s is also at the top of the stairs to the right, with the room Wilbur and Techno share being across the hall from Phil, but not as near to the top of the stairs. Down the hall from Wil and Techno’s room is the bathroom.

Tommy’s room.

Before Tommy was born, Wilbur had this room. It’s something he never lets Tommy or Techno forget. Once Tommy is born, Wilbur begins sharing a room with Techno and the room becomes a nursery. The door has his name on it in big, red letters up until Tommy is about 10 years old, and he begs Phil to let him paint over them. It’s the smallest bedroom in the house. It’s decorated very baby-ish as a nursery, and is nature themed.

Once Tommy is older it’s painted over and has a red and blue theme. Tommy’s bed is in the corner opposite the door. It has all the typical furnishings like some bookshelves, dressers and the like. Tommy’s desk is on the wall facing the window so he has natural light on any work he may be doing. His shelves mostly have trinkets he’s been given and other knickknacks he’s collected. Some of it is stuff that would normally garbage but he’s assigned sentimental value to it and can’t throw it away. His walls are very decorated with posters and art based on his interests, whatever they may be at that time of his life.

Wilbur and Techno’s room

After Tommy is born, Wilbur is moved into what was originally Techno’s room. The room is much plainer, as when they were younger, one twin would have some sort of objection to whatever the other put up for decoration. What little bit there is had to be something they both liked, or something they shared. For example, since they both received swords for their sixteenth birthday, they hang their swords on the wall in their respective sides. Well, Wilbur does, at least. Techno uses his too much for it to stay hung for long, until he gets a better sword. The room is a dark blue-green color, which wasn’t either of their choice, but rather just what was already there.

The room is set up almost perfectly symmetrical. From the perspective of someone standing in the door, Wilbur is on the left and Techno on the right. Their beds are in their corners, and the desks face the wall by the feet. They both also have bedside tables, so they have a place to put their glasses. They both have wall mounted shelves for their books above the desk and by their beds. The only changes in the symmetry is Techno does not have a dresser on his side of the room. They’re both on Wilbur’s side, since where the dressers are on Wilbur’s side is where the door is.

In the middle is the window, which is completely unobstructed. They keep it clear because the window offers access to the roof above the front porch, which they often go out to, whether it be just to get out of the house a little, completely sneak out at night, or later on in Wilbur’s case, sneak a cigarette or two. It’s basically an extension of the room.

After Wilbur and Techno move out, the room remains mostly unchanged, only with some things, removed and taken to their respective places. Since the room is pretty much the same, it’s not uncommon for either of them to stay over sometimes, meaning it still looks lived in. Odds are, until they have established real homes of their own, this is how the room will look.

Phil’s room

Phil’s room is obviously the master bedroom, and therefore the largest. Until the playroom is turned into a study, it’s where he keeps all those study things. Everything Phil has collected during his travels and all the knowledge he’s gathered is there on bookshelves and in storage. Old maps line the wall, some of them ones he aquired from others, some he drew himself.

Attached to this room like a walk in closet is a small armory-esque room where he keeps the things from his past that he doesn’t want his sons getting into, like weapons and all of his old gear. It’s locked up and only Phil knows where the key is.

The room itself is furnished with very dark wood, and has green accents that match his clothing. The looks of the place are very indicative of someone who’s seen a lot of things and has gained a lot of knowledge.

#mcyt #mcytblr #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc family dynamic #mcyt fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza #philza minecraft

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twilightknight17 · 3 years

Text

So I fell asleep last night before I could make the post, but I got P5 Scramble yesterday and I’m having a blast so far. ^_^

I’m probably going to go through it the same way I did my Royal playthrough, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t click through on these posts!

Before we start, I just want to mention that I don’t really know anything about the story. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid spoilers for an entire year except for a few small things.

I do know the identity of (who I assume is) Kyoto’s Jail Monarch. (Monarch is kind of a weird, formal word. I think I liked Jail King better. Or... Warden? Warden might have been the best choice.) ANYWAY, I think I know their identity, and by extension, I have a vague idea of why Shadow Joker exists. Other than that... You’re getting speculation and bullshit untainted by later plot revelations. XDDD

I did find it funny that when I booted the game up, I got a “No save data found, unable to start game” message. Like... no shit, PS4, it’s a brand new game. But the little starting tutorial fight was cool, and I liked the opening movie!

The police briefing was...interesting. It’s good to see them actually being somewhat logical? Like... considering everything that happened the year before, it makes sense that they’d assume this is the Thieves again. They have no way of knowing that there’s no way to access Palaces anymore. This isn’t really the Thieves MO, though. Except for the guy who confessed to document tampering. The author shredding his work for no reason and the guy streaking through the criminal justice headquarters don’t seem like they did anything wrong. Those seem more like psychotic breakdowns.

But... I guess we don’t know if the police ever knew anything about Black Mask, or if Shido was convicted on only real-world crimes and not the metaverse hits he ordered. I wonder if that’ll get elaborated on.

Zenkichi’s introduction was him laughing at the streaking guy in the middle of this Serious Police Meeting, so I think I’m gonna like him a lot. ^_^

Anyway, the “higher-ups” really want this case closed, according to “Commissioner Kaburagi”, who I already don’t like. If you’re the police commissioner, Makoto really would be a better choice, holy shit. She’s already prepared to go after Akira, who is the only Thief they know the identity of, so I guess that’s fair. But still. Has he not been falsely accused of enough for a lifetime?

Although... if you’re gonna look up all his life details, can you maybe... share some? Just a few things? Hometown? How are his parents? Anything?

Coming back to Leblanc was cute. Got some Trickster’s Maze vibes from the initial text conversation where they were talking about how people kept not responding to texts, but I think it’s all good. Love that the Sayuri is still on the wall, and that Morgana’s been home with Akira.

Naming the app “Emma” is never going to stop being hilarious to me, because reasons.

Y’know, Atlus, this would work a lot better if he could like...respond to their curiosity. At least these dialogue options seem to suggest that talking things out with his parents went well. Even “I missed you” isn’t inherently negative. He’d miss them either way.

.......so when my boyfriend gets back from his soul-searching vacation, he’ll be welcomed back with open arms, right, Ryuji? Right?

Meanwhile, for summer break plans, Yusuke wants to go to Kyoto for a month-long art tour. Unless...

Never change, dear. Never change.

Nice of Sojiro to water my plant and keep my room from drowning in dust, but he really couldn’t have replaced the bedframe with literally anything other than the plastic storage crates? XD The attic looks so empty and lonely without the shelves of trinkets and plushies, and the TV.

So my reaction to this next part was literally, “LAVENZA, IT’S BEEN LESS THAN 24 HOURS”. X’‘‘D Akira really can’t catch a break. But Lavenza’s dialogue sounded actually sad that he was being dragged into this again. And she’s promised repeatedly that she’s going to be there for him. It’s sweet, even though my room is still a prison and she’s still using torture equipment. Iron maidens, Lavenza, really??

I’m a little concerned that Igor’s not around, though. Lavenza did the dream/reality/mind/matter speech instead. Where is he? I know he’s never around for spinoffs but considering my headcanons I’m very curious now. And why didn’t he like... tell Morgana that Lavenza said ruin is coming again? Even if we don’t count thirdsem events, Morgana still knows that he’s Hope, and he still has a bond with the Velvet Room. Talk to your cat damn it.

Oh no, she’s cute and Alice-in-Wonderland themed. I’m doomed.

She called it her “EMMA keyword” and I immediately blurted “what? keyword??” and then everything went directly to Hell immediately. Keyword was the key word, I guess. X’‘‘‘DDD

And you can tell it’s been six months, considering that these nerds got caught almost immediately. And got their hands bound. And got dragged to the throne room and forced to kneel!

...I’m doomed.

Someone at Atlus looked directly at this fandom and all the fanart of the interrogation and said, “Yeah, they’d be into that.” XD Steppy steppy. At least she’s not a rapist like Kamoshida, but jeeze, we keep getting beaten up and thrown in the dungeon by royalty. All we need is a princess and we’ve got a whole royal family!

Although, I suppose the prince didn’t bother with a dungeon. XD

I think it’s interesting that apparently the guards tried to take our Desires and failed. I guess being a persona-user means your mental state is stable enough that something like that can’t manifest.

Oh no, she’s cute. I love her. Another for the collection of Joker’s baby siblings. This is number... 5? She kind of reminds me of Jose, a little. I’ll be interested to see what she is, since she’s got amnesia right now. She can’t be just a straight AI.

But if she’s Yald’s mom, I’m also going to be majorly weirded out.

I really like the gameplay? It’s so interesting to see how the characters move and fight when they’re not limited to turn-based attacks. And I like being able to jump to different points and use them to ambush enemies. I don’t fully understand all of it yet, and it’s hard for me to keep an eye on things like status ailments and my teammates because everything is so chaotic, but I’m sure I’ll get it.

I did die to a miniboss, and when I hit “return to checkpoint”, it gave me the prompt to select a language for the voice acting again. I dunno what was up with that. X’D And I’m baffled by the concept that you can just leave the metaverse and come back and it restores all your health and stuff. No penalty. Time doesn’t pass. You didn’t waste a day. Have the kids finally learned that we are capable of entering and exiting more than once on the same day? Hallelujah.

...this boy is angry that we have to deal with the Jails instead of having a BBQ feast. Never change, Yusuke.

If you go by the crepe shop in Shibuya, Morgana still doesn’t think you’re a crepe person. I’m so tired, Morgana. It’s also a bit weird and forced that Iwai and Takemi are both out of town. We couldn’t have seen at least one of them? I know we’re not gonna be able to use those shops when we’re on the road, but we could worry about that then.

(Disturbingly easy to return a gold bar that you apparently bought off the dark web. Omg. That was hilarious.)

AND THEN YOU GET UP THE NEXT DAY AND ZENKICHI IS JUST IN YOUR HOUSE? SITTING IN THAT CHAIR? That is not the “detective chair”, sir, that is my boyfriend’s chair, and you need to move. At least he likes the curry, but jesus fuck. Sir, I have unresolved trauma of adults coming into my house to snoop into my business. Get out of my house. X’D

You give me a detective sitting in my boyfriend’s chair and then immediately send me to a taping of the same show in the same studio where I first met him. God, P5S, you’re trying to kill me.

Alice clearly knows that giving out the keyword is doing something. She’s being very deliberate about this. But I don’t think she’s actually aware of the Jail. Love that she’s so arrogant that she can’t imagine that Akira just... didn’t use the keyword, and that’s why she can’t control him.

So I guess the Jail Monarchs are called such because they’re imprisoning other people’s shadows in their distortions. So these are people that want control over something to the point that it distorted their worldview. Part of me wants to go off on a ramble about how this relates to Mementos or Apathy Syndrome, but I’ll wait and do that when I have more information. I’ve got some more of the dungeon to do, and I cannot wait to see Alice’s boss fight.

I’m having so much fun. I really missed these kids; they’re grea--

.......I hate these children. X’‘‘‘‘DDDD

#Li plays P5Scramble #still refusing to call it ''Strikers''

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aye-write · 3 years

Text

Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex!

This was another chonker chapter at 4.5k that I didn’t anticipate being this long at all! The joys of plantsing, eh? I had hoped to reveal the starters this chapter, but that’s being bumped to next update. In the meantime, please enjoy the reveal of Brootser, and the partial reveals of Weldeon, Ampster and Coastrot!

*****

Chapter Three

Despite everything, night rolled over the Whispering Pine Croft.

After hours battling insomnia, Isla stole downstairs not long after the clock in the hallway chimed midnight. Goosepimples erupted on her skin, the air chilling her to the core. Clicking on the floor lamp, she cast her gaze around the living room. A rickety bookshelf took up most of one wall, covered in dust and trinkets. It didn’t take her long to strike gold.

The Etymological Dictionary of Old Kildonian, 1981 Edition.

Sitting at the old coffee table, she spread out her books and copies of the Old Kildonian script until there wasn’t an inch of space left. Then she opened the dictionary and started to read. She read, moving between dictionary and text, until her eyes strained in the dim light of the lamp, and the words on the page turned into incomprehensible squiggles. Just keep going, she told herself, as she marked off another decoded word. Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep—

“Isla?”

Isla slammed the book shut. The noise seemed to echo forever in the quiet of the living room. The intruder snapped on the main light and Isla blinked foolishly as everything illuminated around her. It was Blair at the door, swaddled in an enormous red dressing gown and a pinched look on his face.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, pulling his dressing gown tighter. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” Isla said, trying to collect the papers together, position her body over them, anything to hide them from sight.

“Really? You look like a student trying to panic revise a whole subject the night before an exam,” he chuckled, plopping himself in the seat opposite. “Come on. What’s up?”

Isla sighed. What was the point in lying? “I’m just trying to make some sense of these texts.”

Blair glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “At half two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep. This presentation is doing my head in.” When Blair frowned, she added, “My supervisor asked me to update them with all the “progress” I’ve mad so far. Of course, I haven’t made any yet.”

“So, you’re trying to decode all these old books with…. an out-of-date Kildonian dictionary?”

“I found it in the bookcase. I thought it might help.”

“I’m pretty sure that book is older than me. Please don’t tell me you’re taking it word-by-word.”

“More or less.”

“You’ll be there months trying to sort all that lot.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Isla’s voice cracked. “Everyone is hounding me. I can’t let this come undone. They’ll pull approval of my project and fail me if I don’t keep jumping through all their hoops.”

“Why is the legend of the Chessmen so important to you?”

Isla hesitated. It was an innocent enough question, but the thought of answering it felt like ripping her chest open and exposing the beating heart underneath. “Well...” she started, cringing at how stupid it all sounded in her head. “When I was little, I was kinda lonely. I didn’t have siblings. Or friends, really,”

Blair made a sympathetic noise.

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t that bothered by it,” Isla lied. “But because I didn’t have many friends, I naturally leant towards books instead. And I loved fiction, like adventure stories and that, but I felt so much more connected to things that were actually real.”

Blair nodded. “Understandable.”

“Anyway, one Christmas, I got this book. I think it was called Myths and Legends of the Pokemon World and it had all the origin stories of all the legendary Pokemon from like… every region in the world. God, I ate up every single story - how Arceus created the world, the theory that all Pokemon came from Mew in some way, how Groudon and Kyogre created the land and sea. I was absolutely hooked. Then, right at the end, there were a couple of small articles devoted to a place called Kildo.”

“Typical,” Blair muttered. “Always playing second fiddle to the big guns.”

“The book explained a little bit about the legend of the Chessmen. I was just… amazed at how these Pokemon brought humans these gifts of technology and arts and whatnot and how advanced the region was for its time. And then when I read what happened next, well… I just wanted to know why. Why did the Chessmen take away what they gave the humans? What happened to them after they became dormant? I was obsessed. When I was younger, I had this stupid dream that I would like… Oh, it sounds so cheesy now, but… like solve the mystery of what happened all those years ago.”

“It’s not cheesy, Isla. Dreams are never cheesy.”

Isla bit the inside of her cheek. “I know that. It’s just… well, this legend has been everything to me for years. I’m not bigheaded enough now to think someone like me could ever solve it. But I’d love to find something. Even if it’s just standing in the same place these Pokemon stood once, all those years ago. But now it feels like it’s slipping away from me. I won’t be able to do anything unless I get these texts translated.”

“They’re well-known texts, right? Haven’t they already been translated?”

“The only translations that exist are locked behind online paywalls,” Isla sighed. “Not exactly within my budget. The originals were family owned. I suppose you can’t blame them for wanting them kept safe.”

“Could the university not pay for you to access them?”

“Not my department. They already think the project isn’t worth the time. They’re usually into social changes, modern day life, that sort of thing. Mythology doesn’t get a look in. Even though I changed my project a bit – focusing more on how the mythology influences modern life, with the Chessmen more of like a case study – the department still don’t want much to do with it.”

“Well, that’s their loss. Your project sounds fascinating just from what I’ve seen of it.”

“This little bit you’ve seen might end up being all it ever amounts to. With Nana Morag in the hospital, my options for translations are limited, and these old texts are all I have to help me piece together where the Chessmen might be.”

Silence unfurled around them. Isla stared down at her lap, her legs shaking and her mouth dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever talked so much about herself and she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Blair in the eye.

“I think I might know someone.”

Isla pricked her head up. “Really?” she said, hope throbbing in her chest.

“I have a friend who lives in Inverbrook. It’s not a huge city, but they do have a subsect of Tideburgh University there. He’s doing a Masters in Language and mentioned being involved with an elective on Old Kildonian. I can contact him for you. He might be able to help.”

Something surged through Isla like she’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. “Oh, Blair, thank you! That’s amazing!”

“No guarantees, of course!” he said, spreading his hands hastily. “He might not know enough of it to be a proper help. But he may be able to put you in touch with some other folks who can help, if that makes sense.”

“It does. A lot of sense. Thank you again.” Isla paused. “Where is Inverbrook?”

“Pretty much directly south of here. About forty odd miles or so. Following routes 29 through 26 pretty much leads you right there. Public transport is crap, though, so you’re better walking most of it. Shouldn’t take much more than a couple of days if you’re…”

He paused. Isla knew what he wanted to say. If you’re fit. Women like her weren’t supposed to be fit. And even though the thought of days of walking filled her with equal parts apprehension and dread, she forced a look of determination onto her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle it.”

Isla shared the news that she would be leaving in the morning as they sat down at the kitchen table. Kenneth and Skye stayed quiet, barely reacting to the news, but Rhona’s face crumpled.

“Oh, chick, are you sure?”

“I think it’s probably for the best,” Isla said. “I don’t want to be a burden, especially with you guys having your hands full with the croft and Nana Morag being ill. Having a guest is too much on top of everything. I really do appreciate everything you’ve all done, but I think it’s best that I head towards Inverbrook and start my research properly.”

A strange expression passed over Rhona’s face, one that Isla couldn’t make sense of. For several terrifying moments, she thought she’d offended her.

“You wouldn’t be a burden on us, Isla,” Rhona eventually said, her eyes brimming. “We’d happily have you here for as long as you want. It’s been lovely having you.”

Isla felt something in her heart buckle.

“We do understand that your studies have to come first. But… you said you wanted to go to Inverbrook?”

“Yes. Blair is going to put me in touch with a friend of his there that might be able to help me with some translations.”

“It might not be as easy as you think, chick. I’ve just been watching the local news. There was flooding down south. The river that goes through Route 27, which connects Port Glen to Inverbrook, burst its banks. The whole route is submerged. No-one can go through. It’s completely impassable.”

You wouldn’t have said the entire of Port Glen had only just recently been battered by a storm, Isla thought, as she set off down towards the harbour after a filling breakfast. The morning sky pinkened gently, like a mother’s embrace, and golden threads of sun drifted through soft, watercolour clouds. A cool wind kept the worst of the heat at bay as she walked. All in all, it was a fairly pleasant experience. Well, as pleasant an experience as walking would ever be.

It was Rhona that had suggested trying the ferry. She couldn’t be sure what passenger routes they ran from Port Glen, or if they only did international and goods shipments, but it was a better option than waiting the potential weeks for the Inverbrook route to be cleared or taking the (extremely) long way around the whole region.

Breathing heavily and sweating despite the brisk ocean breeze, Isla stopped to catch her breath as she arrived at the harbour. She cast her gaze around hopefully. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not a good sign in the least. Aside from the occasional sailor pacing the docks, and the sharp, cutting cry of seabirds, the place was still and silent.

The thought of asking someone to help sent panic crashing through her like waves in a storm, but there was no other choice. The best option rested with a nearby sailor, busily looping ropes and picking apart complicated knots. A Pokemon stood at his side. Squat, muscular, with short brown fur, flecked with white, and cut into a stout triangle pattern, it was another one that Isla didn’t recognise. Every now and again, the sailor tossed it a particularly difficult-looking knot of rope, which the Pokemon expertly shredded with sharp, curved claws.

“Brootser, the Pelting Pokemon. The evolved form of Brogue. With incredibly sharp claws and powerful jaws, Brootser are highly aggressive and territorial. Even against much stronger foes, it won’t back down easily,” her Pokedex chirruped.

Isla’s hand tightened around Soba’s Pokeball as she read more details. A Fighting type. A second evolution. Being a Furret, Soba wouldn’t stand much chance in a fair fight, much less an unfair one. While she did generally feel more comfortable approaching a fellow Pokemon owner, she probably could have stood to pick one with a less terrifying partner.

All the same, she approached the sailor, keeping herself primed like a coiled spring. “Excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

The sailor had a strong, lined face, but he didn’t seem anywhere near as intimidating when he relaxed into a smile. “Sure,” he boomed. “What can I do for you?”

“Are there going to be any sailings from this port in the next few days? Anywhere that lands near Inverbrook?”

The Brootser, distracted from its work with the knots, pressed its wet nose against Isla’s hand. Isla let out an involuntary squeak.

“Brootser, stop that!” the sailor said firmly. “Sorry, miss. He’s obsessed with leather. Have you got leather in your handbag or anything? Your shoes? I swear, he can sniff it out within a mile. I have to keep him distracted at work otherwise he’d never leave people alone. Here, Brootser, go and do this for me.”

The sailor tossed a section of rope a few feet down the docks. The Brootser growled, a deep throaty rumble, before dropping to all fours and pursuing. Within moments, the rope was ripped to little more than fibres.

Isla searched for something to say. She eventually settled on, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a menace is what he is,” the sailor said, wiping his brow. “Anyway, you were asking about the ferries? Unfortunately, the passenger ferry was badly damaged in that storm two nights ago and won’t be running any routes for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Isla asked nervously.

“We’re waiting for some metal workers to come down from Hydrogate. They’re delayed because their Weldeon team were exhausted after a big job in the ironworks. Currently we’re looking at about a week.”

“A week?”

“I’m afraid so. If you go to reception and leave your details, they’ll be able to contact you as soon as we know when the sailings will be going ahead.”

“Aren’t there any other options?”

The sailor considered. “Not here. But if you’re set on sailing and you could get to Dewbrae Town, I think they’re still running sailings.”

“Where’s Dewbrae Town? Is it close?”

“It’s up past Aberdrip City, which is an hour’s drive north of here. Then you have to pass through Aberdrip Forest and that brings you out just at Dewbrae. Maybe a couple of days walking if you keep a steady pace,” he paused, and Isla felt his eyes rake her body. “Maybe a couple more. But, if you’re in a hurry, it’s better than waiting around here. Everything’s very up in the air at the moment.”

Isla thanked the sailor, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that came over her. Why was this so difficult? She’d encountered disaster at every turn so far and, in her darkest moments, she couldn’t deny wondering if it was even worth it to keep going. Nana Morag ill, no passage to Inverbrook through Route 27, no ferry from the Port Glen docks, now she had to go all the way to Dewbrae – wherever that was – on nothing more than a possibility?

But what could she do? What other options did she have?

Rhona would know what to do, Isla decided. She had a way of sorting things out, an uncanny level-headedness her own mother didn’t have. That’s what she’d do. She’d head back to the croft and take stock of the situation. She started walking, thoughts whirling through her head like the flapping of birds’ wings. Maybe there was another way to Inverbrook. They knew the region better than she ever would. Maybe they could—

“WIIIIING!”

Isla gasped and swore as her foot trod on something soft. With a gust of cold air, the offending thing burst upwards and pain erupted at the top of her head. Sharp, pointed talons dug into her scalp and she yelped in pain.

“Gull! Gull!” her assailant screeched; each squawk accompanied by a swift peck to the head.

Isla’s hands closed around her attacker’s soft wriggling body. With all her might, she tore it from her head and tossed it as far as she could manage. But the Pokemon swooped back into the air, seemingly unharmed, fixing Isla with a glare that sent a tremble down her spine.

“Gull! Wingull!” it shrieked.

Recognition dropped into Isla’s belly like a stone. It was a Kildonian Wingull. The same Kildonian Wingull that had attacked Rhona the day Isla got off the ferry. At least, it certainly looked like the same one – she could hardly call herself an expert on them – but it was roughly the same size and had the same high-pitched squawk. And didn’t the Pokedex say that Kildonian Wingull only attacked people who had food? Isla didn’t have a single crumb on her. So what other motive could it possibly have for attacking her?

Isla reached for the Pokeball at her waist, panicked fingers scrabbling for the catch. But the Wingull screeched again, diving into a tackle. The impact came low in her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her doubled over. The second blow sent her off-balance and stumbling, eventually crashing to the ground where the pain came in sharp spikes. With a fury of feathers, the Pokemon ripped Isla’s bag away from her.

“Hey!” She wheezed. “There’s nothing in there for you!”

Her protests were rewarded with a face full of frigid water.

By the time Isla had sluiced the water from her face, the Wingull had unhooked the bag’s clasp and was digging around in her things. Hairbrush and deodorant were both ignored, the coin purse in the shape of a Quagsire got an inquisitive gnaw but ultimately left in favour of a pen, which lasted a whole thirty seconds until it splintered and was promptly spat back out.

Every inhale felt like she was being stabbed underneath the ribs, but she still forced herself to move. “Leave my things alone! There’s no food in there!”

Wingull had wriggled itself right into the bottom of the bag and had pulled out an old emergency kit that Isla had nearly forgotten about. Most of the items had already been used or dumped over the years she’d had it, leaving only a couple of travel sized Potions, a Repel Kit, and a Poke Doll, wrapped up in a worn-out bag. The Wingull squawked indignantly and decapitated the doll in one fell swoop. Then it turned back on the travel bag, scraping around and tearing at it with its beak.

Something dropped out. Isla’s heart plummeted to somewhere near her feet.

It was a Pokeball. An old Pokeball scratched and grimy with age. A Pokeball that Isla had all but forgotten about ever since she made the decision to train just Soba all those years ago. A Pokeball that was now right in the Kildonian Wingull’s line of sight.

She saw it happening before it actually did. The hungry Wingull viewed the Pokeball as nothing more than a shiny, tasty snack. It darted forward, opened its beak wide, and engulfed the old capsule. Isla prayed that the ten year old ball would turn out to be too old to work anymore, and the worst thing to happen would be the Wingull hacking it back up again. But the Pokeball made a shrill shiiing noise as it made contact with Wingull’s beak, and the Pokemon disappeared in a flash of blue light.

The Pokeball shook. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it was still.

And Isla had caught a Kildonian Wingull.

Isla told the story of her accidental Wingull capture to an appreciative audience when she got back from the docks. And then again over sandwiches at lunchtime. While Soba curled up in the corner next to the radiator, oblivious to this new teammate, Isla released Wingull for the nerve-wracking job of introductions and feeding time. Rhona’s eyebrows rose so high that they practically disappeared into her hairline, but she didn’t protest.

“I can’t believe it’s the same one,” Rhona said, eyeing her half-eaten sandwich she was planning on saving for later. “Most try their luck once and then move on.”

“I think it’s young,” Blair said, lifting its wing to get a better look. “Perhaps separated from its mum too early. Maybe it doesn’t know any better.”

“I didn’t mean to catch it,” Isla sighed. “I’d forgotten all about that old Pokeball. We were always told to carry an extra one or two, even if we never intended to catch Pokemon, like for emergencies and that.”

“It must have been starving if it thought a Pokeball was food. Or maybe just exceptionally stupid.”

“Jury’s out on that one,” Isla said, as the Wingull pecked at a Tauros shaped pepper shaker.

“Kildonian Wingull are incredibly food oriented,” Blair lifted his plate to avoid the Pokemon’s frantically flapping wings. “Most of the bird Pokemon around here are.”

“Why is that?”

“Competition. Because there’s so many, they all compete for the same natural resources. That’s part of why people think Wingull adapted for Kildo the way they did. They couldn’t compete for most of the natural food, so they evolved to take food from humans instead. Problem is, they end up thinking all food is fair game. Hey, watch it! No! That’s mine!”

Isla suppressed a chuckle as Wingull lunged for the crusts on Blair’s sandwiches. In the kerfuffle of squawking and feathers, Isla looked over at Skye, who hadn’t said a word through the entire of lunch. Her face was screwed up.

“Skye? Are you alright?” Isla asked.

Skye made an odd strangling noise, pushed herself back from the chair, and ran for the stairs, each one thudding under her feet. A moment later, a door slammed.

“Did I say something wrong?” Isla said, horrified.

“No, not at all,” Rhona said, rescuing a glass of juice that had been upended when Skye left the table. “She’s just a bit upset. We were supposed to be going up to meet Professor Spruce tomorrow to get her trainer’s license and first Pokemon. But because Nana Morag is in hospital, I have to be here in case something comes up on short notice, and I just can’t spare the time to take Skye up to Aberdrip City. She’ll only be delayed for a few days, but the poor lass was so looking forward to it. Especially when she’s had to wait so much longer than everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

It was only after she asked the question that she considered it might have been rude. Or none of her business. Too late to save herself now, though. Rhona’s face tightened, her mouth puckering like she was sucking on a sour lemon.

“Sorry,” Isla looked down at the table. “I shouldn’t be nosy.”

The kitchen fell quiet. Rhona let out a deep, juddering exhale and sat back down, folding her hands into her lap, the kitchen suddenly feeling about ten degrees colder. Isla took a sip of water, her mouth and throat turning to chalk.

“Skye had childhood cancer.” The words didn’t even get a chance to settle before they were tumbling out again, like Rhona was trying to get them all out at once. Like they couldn’t hurt her as much that way. “She spent most of her childhood in hospital with leukaemia.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Once again Isla found herself cursing both her mother and herself for not bothering to find any of this information out beforehand.

Rhona shook her head. “It’s alright, chick. We don’t talk about it much. Besides, she’s been in remission for a year now. But she’s missed out on so much school and she gets tired so easily.”

There was nothing Isla could say that would be enough. She had to settle for, “I’m sorry to hear that…” and hope Rhona could somehow understand just how much she meant it.

“There was a time when she was being treated that she became very low and very depressed. It was frightening. I’ve never been so worried in all my life. We were scared she was just… giving up. Then, one day, they had some Pokemon trainers visit the hospital. A lot of children there would never be able to go out training. Some wouldn’t even… you know, live to see their next birthday.”

Rhona’s voice wavered. Blair put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Easy, Mum. Don’t go upsetting yourself now.”

“One of the trainers was assigned to Skye,” Rhona continued. “But she was so quiet and so withdrawn that we didn’t think the trainer could get through to her. The trainer had this Pokemon with her – Ampster, I think it was – and it was like a light turned on behind Skye’s eyes when she saw it. I saw glimpses of my daughter again. This trainer stayed with her for hours. Just talking. She’s wanted to be a Pokemon trainer ever since. And I hate that so many things keep getting in her way.”

Rhona sunk her head into her hands. Her shoulders quivered.

Isla felt terrible. No wonder Skye had been quiet during the whole of lunch. How stupid had she been? Skye was being kept from her dream of being a Pokemon trainer and she’d waltzed into their kitchen showing off a Pokemon she hadn’t even meant to catch? It made Isla’s toes curl just thinking about it.

“Could Skye not make the journey on her own?” she asked.

“No,” Rhona lifted her head again, looking pale even at the thought. “She’s not fit enough. We were going to rent a car and drive her, but…”

“Could I take her?”

The offer slipped past Isla’s lips before she knew what she was doing. Rhona looked at her in mild shock, her mouth slowly gaping open.

“I mean, I’ll be passing through Aberdrip anyway!” Isla continued. “One of the sailors said I could get the ferry from Dewbrae Town which is just past Aberdrip, right?. I could take her along with me.”

“Gosh, that’s very kind of you, chick. And I’m sure Skye would love it,” Rhona said, nervously glancing at the stairs. “But I’m not comfortable with her making the trip back on her own. Or even just the amount of walking she’d have to do.”

“I could go with them,” Blair said.

Rhona looked at her son like she’d only just remembered he existed. “What’s that, honey?”

“I could go with them,” he repeated. “We could put Skye on Coastrot. That’s my partner Pokemon,” he added for Isla’s benefit. “He’s strong enough to carry her and we can keep her nicely bundled up. Then once Isla heads off to Dewbrae, I can take Skye back.”

“I don’t know,” Rhona said. “We need you here too.”

“Mum, it’s a day. Maybe two, tops, if we let Skye rest overnight. You and Dad can manage that long, right? You could ask a couple of the lads from the market to pitch in if you really need to. I’m sure they’d work for a hot pie and some cash in hand. And you don’t need to worry about us. We won’t do anything silly. We’ll just get Skye her Pokemon, check in for the night, see Isla off to Dewbrae the next morning and head back ourselves. Easy-peasy!”

Rhona still didn’t look convinced. “It’s such a long way, though. She’s not been away overnight in such a long time.”

“It’s a few hours of travelling, Mum. You said it yourself, Skye’s already missed out on so much. It might not feel like much for us, but for Skye, it’s her whole life. One delay after the other. And with everything the way it is right now, what if there’s just more delays? More reasons not to take her? You have to let her.”

Rhona went very quiet, her face pale.

“I’ll look after her, Mum,” Blair said. “She needs this.”

“I know you will. And I know she does,” Rhona heaved a sigh. “She’s not my little baby anymore. She’s growing up.”

“I’d like to go.”

Everyone jumped at the voice that came in from the doorway. Rhona wiped her eyes. “Oh, Skye, honey, sorry. I didn’t hear you come down. Are you okay?”

“I think I can do it,” Skye ignored her mother’s question. Her voice was louder this time, but still hesitant, like she was testing out its limits. “I want to go get my Pokemon and I’d like Blair and Coastrot to take me. And Isla,” she added, and Isla felt a smile curve onto her face. “If that’s okay with you?”

Silence widened like a chasm between mother and daughter and for one horrible moment, Isla half-expected Rhona to turn away, to start shouting, to deny her flat out. But then tears spilled out of Rhona’s eyes and her whole face softened.

“Yes, honey,” Rhona said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Yes, that’ll be okay with me.”

As they hugged, Isla felt a stray tear prick at the corner of her eye. The emotion surprised her. Yes, it was touching to see a mother and daughter hug and reconcile, but something told her it went deeper. As she looked out at the dying sky, strewn with deepening orange and slicks of black, something unsettled itself in her heart.

Tomorrow she would be leaving Port Glen. Tomorrow she would leave behind a family unit where she felt accepted. Tomorrow she would start her journey to Inverbrook.

She didn’t know which one felt scarier.

#checkmate #pokemon oc fiction #pokemon fanfiction #fakemon #fakemon fanfiction #long post #fanfiction

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initiala · 4 years

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The Dark and Light Along the Sea

Hello, wow, I actually wrote something. This is a @csrolereversal fic with art provided by the lovely @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713.

So, uh, this fic goes some places. It’s got graphic depictions of violence, gratuitous goriness, death, destruction, body parts in places body parts shouldn’t be... It’s a Dark One Killian fic with Emma as... not quite the good little witch we’re used to her being. So if that’s not your jam, then go ahead and keep scrolling! Otherwise, please enjoy.

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Once upon a time, a little girl was stolen from a castle in the dead of night. She’d been born with magic, you see, and that magic was coveted by dark forces across the land. She knew she’d been stolen, because the woman she’d been forced to call Mother told her often while complaining about how much food she ate and the cost of clothing to keep her warm. Mother taught the little girl how to use her magic, though the kinds of spells she learned felt wrong -- slimy under her skin and a cold draft down her back with each success.

Mother didn’t like hearing that it felt wrong. The more the little girl spoke about the wrong feeling, the more she was forced to train, drowning in the feeling of wrongness until one day, finally, she snapped.

Mother looked like a doll that had been thrown across the room, her limbs at odd angles, her head bent uncomfortably.

The little girl, not so little these days, left without looking back.

She traveled far, searching for something to ease the knot of terrible feelings in her belly. Voices whispered in her mind after night fell, echoes of Mother twisting anxiety into her heart and others she couldn’t name leading her to fear she was going mad.

Seasons passed and her search remained fruitless. She grew tall and fair, slim from traveling the realm on foot, and earned her way through performing the only bits of magic she dared: illusion. She could turn a bushel of apples into a basket of snakes and back again, pull a dove from a child’s pocket, make coins vanish and reappear in her shoes. She stayed until the whispers in her mind became real in her ears, suspicious villagers or townsmen who looked a little too long at the traveling magic maid, then took off down the road, still searching for something that felt like peace.

One night, years later, the magic maid found herself in quiet port town; quite the oxymoron, she inquired at the inn as to why this wasn’t the bustling pirate haven or trading port she was used to.

“The Dark One, miss,” the old barkeep told her, setting before her a trencher of bread filled with a thick stew made from potatoes and ham and a mug of watered down ale. “Claimed the castle up the way. Doesn’t much bother us townsfolk, but his presence bothers outsiders. Anyone as wants to trade here comes and does his business quickly, then sails out again on the next tide. As fer pirates, rumor is the Dark One used to be one hisself and knows their treachery. Forbids it, see, less someone else comes to try and claim his power.”

She thought about his story as she ate slowly. She’d heard of the Dark One before, mostly as a bedtime story from Mother to warn her about how people would want to use her power for their own. The last Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, had apparently vanished a few hundred years ago and no one had seen concrete proof of his successor. Yet, allegedly, he was here, in this out of the way town, living amicably beside a town that didn’t seem to care he was there. Then again, she mused, if they’d all grown up knowing he was there and hadn’t done anything before, they probably didn’t see a need to feel afraid of him. And if it kept trouble away, all the better for them.

People around these parts, she discovered, turned in early; she considered herself lucky for having made so much coin in the last town since there would be scant opportunities for her to sing for her supper. She paid up front for two nights at the inn, giving herself a chance to rest and maybe find a cobbler to fix her boots before going somewhere without the Dark One’s shadow looming overhead. Trying not to count and recount the coins left in her purse, she retired early as well, looking forward to a night indoors with a soft bed. Maybe, she thought with a wry smile, mice and bugs would be terrified of the Dark One too, and she’d have a peaceful rest.

The candle was unlit when she got to her room, and she scowled, fumbling in the dark for the flint and steel she kept in her pouch. Sparks flew as she tried to light it, cursing under her breath the whole while; she wasn’t good at using this stupid thing for small fires, she could barely do it for a campfire out on the road-- “Why do you use that thing?” a male voice asked, the candle wick flaming to life.

She whirled, conjuring a fireball in one hand and ready to burn whoever dared come for her in the night. “Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?”

“Interesting questions,” the man replied, waving his hand carelessly. Her fireball vanished and she felt like the air was being squeezed from her lungs. “Some might call me hell incarnate. Others simply call me by my more colorful moniker.”

Several other candles lit around the room, giving her a better view of the man before her. He dressed simply, in either dark colors or simply black, with a long leather greatcoat and heavy boots. A hook where his left hand should have been glinted wickedly in the light. His hair fell rakishly over his forehead and one eye, slightly disheveled and looking like it had been some time since its last wash. But it was his piercing blue eyes that caught hold of her, red-rimmed and exhausted as they were, watching her with cautious interest. “The Dark One,” she said faintly.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me. No need to answer that, I know all about your little chat with the barman downstairs. I’ve got ears and eyes all over this town, looking for people such as yourself to cross into my territory.”

“People like me?”

“Magic, love,” the Dark One said, his heavy footfalls echoing around the room as he came closer. “I could practically smell your magic the moment you crossed the border of this little place,” he continued, leaning in and breathing her in to prove his point. “Never before have I met anyone with as much raw power as you.”

She shivered, her magic reacting to him in a way that made her hair stand on end. It liked him and that frightened her -- her magic barely liked her, leaving her with those terrible feelings when Mother had trained her, fighting from her control every time she tried to use it to light a fire or performing for her own survival. She felt it wrenching from her control even now, reaching for him and twining about him like a cat. “Interesting indeed,” the Dark One murmured. “What’s your name, love?”

Mother had drilled in many things to her over the years: don’t eat so much, stop growing so fast, stop being ungrateful for the roof over your head, listen only to Mother, never do any sort of magic without exacting a price, never give anyone your name lest they have power over you. She hesitated now, and his eyes hardened. “Your name,” he said again, and she felt his power squeezing her, forcing her to obey his will.

She closed her eyes and forced her magic out, against his and whatever hold he was trying to put on her. He flew back, stopping just before he hit the wall, and when she opened her eyes again she took some satisfaction from the infuriated look on his face. “You have no power here, Dark One,” she said firmly.

But, just as quick, she felt her magic slip from her grasp as if he’d pulled the rug from under her feet. It hurt, having her magic pulled from her, and she pulled back with all her will to keep it from escaping into whatever magical trinket he was keeping in his pocket. He stared at her like he’d never seen anyone quite like her before, and the magical tug-of-war ended. She felt her magic slip back under her skin, under her control, and glared at him defiantly. “Killian,” he said finally. “If it makes you feel any better, we can trade names. Mine’s Killian.”

She kept glaring, unsure if this was some kind of Dark One trick; she didn’t know a lot about this particular Dark One, but she knew his predecessors weren’t afraid of using any sort of trickery to get what they wanted. “What do you want, Dark One?”

“Your name. And to know why someone so powerful as yourself has crossed into my domain.”

“That’s easy enough. I’m traveling.”

His eyes glinted, clearly aware she continued to dodge the question of her name. “Traveling where? And for what?”

She shrugged. “Nowhere. Everywhere.”

She felt a tendril of his magic reach out to probe hers again and she pushed it back, fixing him with a steely gaze again. The Dark One -- Killian -- regarded her again. “Your magic walks a fine line between darkness and light, a line I find interesting. The depths of the darkness you’re capable of -- and the strength of the light -- should have most of the realm after you. Is this why you travel to places like ‘nowhere’ and ‘everywhere’?” he asked, his tone mocking as he threw her answers back in her face.

“Maybe.”

“Not very forthcoming, are you?”

“With strange evil wizards who let themselves into my room? Why should I be?”

In a flash of red smoke, he was in her face again, nose brushing up against hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek when he spoke, “Because I may be the only one capable of helping you.”

She put her hands on his chest and shoved, but he didn’t budge. “Why do I need help?”

A slow grin stretched his lips, making crow’s feet around his eyes, but it did little to soften him or reassure her. “There’s darkness in you, little witch, and I sense trepidation where it’s concerned. You want the light, but don’t know how to reach it. You fear the dark, yet you’ve dabbled in it. Who taught you darkness?”

She found she couldn’t look away from his eyes, intense and oh so blue. She wondered if he could simply hold someone with his stare like this, or if there was something else at play, the same something that forced the words from her mouth, “Mother. Not my real mother, the… woman who took me.”

He blinked and she could look away, though she did so only briefly. “What happened to her? If she’d already taken you as a prize, I’d be sure she wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.”

Her throat worked but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Her gaze dropped to the floor, staring at the way her feet fit neatly between his wide stance. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“No controller, but no protector either. You’ve been running ever since.”

Another nod.

“Did you want to?”

She hesitated. She’s thought for years about this very question. Had she wanted to kill Mother, or had it just been some kind of unfortunate accident? Her powers slipping out of her control, spiraling from her own frustrations and fears, directed at the one person who’d sparked those feelings for her entire life?

Did she want to? Maybe, in some small, dark part of her heart.

Maybe not such a small, dark part anymore.

She met his gaze again, unsure, and an unreadable flicker of emotions crossed his face as he considered her nonanswer to his question. “Emma,” she whispered. “My name is Emma.”

=====

Once upon a time, a man fell in love with a woman. This happens often enough, you see, but this particular woman was already married. But she was desperately unhappy in her marriage and begged the man to take her away; the man happened to be a pirate, renowned and feared across the seven seas, but the man also believed in good form, and carried on with ideas of dashing rescues and the like -- what could be more dashing a rescue than a woman trapped with a man she described as a monster?

What the man didn’t know, however, was that the monster was more than what he appeared.

The monster killed her, this woman they both claimed to love, and the man swore revenge as he buried her at the bottom of the sea. He left that very day to find the tools to enact his revenge, stopping time itself while he laid out his plans. And it took years more before he finally succeeded, swiping the blade that was the key to the monster’s power and taking it for his own.

The blade and the power.

To kill the monster was to make a monster of yourself, for the power of the Dark One could only pass on to whoever slayed their predecessor. It was a terrible price to pay, but the man was too far gone into his hate and drive for revenge to care much for what happened to him next.

The power of the Dark One buzzed in his ears for decades. He locked himself away in a castle -- he may have killed the previous owners, he couldn’t remember now -- drinking himself into a stupor to quiet the voices in his head telling him how to use the darkness to his advantage. Darkness had taken the woman he loved from him, and for all he cared it could drown with her at the bottom of the sea.

Time moved differently when one was functionally immortal, he discovered, and spending most of that time drunk made it nearly impossible to tell what century it was. Occasionally he woke out of his stupor to find blood on his hands or entrails in the entryway, with no memory of how any of it got there. But the voices of the darkness whispered in his ears still and he found himself wondering if the darkness just took hold, using his body as some sort of vessel to carry out its desires.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

By the time Emma found her way into his castle, he mostly had himself under control. He’d spent years actually reading the tomes that had found their way into his collection, learning to set defenses like invisible glass walls between himself and the darkness, meditating to quiet the voices in his mind. He drank less, though it became increasingly clear that awareness of the passage of time was incredibly boring. Immortality and having no clear purpose of what to do with that time was terribly dull, and when the boredom became insufferable he would drink again, only to find himself with the same problem as before. The fragile glass that made up his protective walls was shattered every time, the darkness flowing through his defenses and dragging him down further each and every time. There were fewer mysterious body parts strewn about after these blackout periods, less blood on his hands, but sometimes treasure would find its way into his possession and he had no idea where it came from.

Once a pirate, always a pirate, the darkness would taunt, until he slammed up his defenses and shut the darkness out again.

Keeping the darkness at bay proved to be more difficult as he introduced Emma to his books on light magic. The taunts grew louder and more frequent and he found comforts at the bottom of a bottle four nights in seven. Even Emma noticed something was off with his manner, seeing as how they were the only two living creatures in the castle. After a month of him disappearing in these blackout rages, she confronted him after their lessons. “Is it me?” she asked pointedly. “Do I drive you to drink and run off somewhere? Do I need to leave?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Yes. I don’t know.”

“Are those answers to my questions, or is it a general statement of incompetence?”

He glared at her, the darkness whispering in his ear to silence her smart mouth permanently. “You walk a fine line, little witch.”

“Silence me then,” she said, shoving herself up in his face. “Do it. I know you can, you just haven’t yet -- I’ve seen the mess you leave when you come back. Is this your normal thing or is it just too much to be in the same fucking castle as me?”

She was right, he realized. He could kill her, but something kept him from doing so, even when he was in one of his rages. That was curious -- clearly he had no problem doing away with whatever was bothering him, but even though she was what brought the darkness out she was never the target of his ire.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“No,” he said finally. “This is something that requires… meditation, I think. And perhaps a change in your lessons.”

He would keep her from the books containing only light magic, that was all. The darkness whispered in his mind that she could be a power to rival his own, a terrible and beautiful queen at his side, if he would show her the books with the blackest of magics, but he didn’t want that. The darkness in him hated and feared her potential for light, but it was something else that drew him to her, like a moth to a candle. She wasn’t wholly tarnished, not like him, but she knew the taste of villainy and what it could do.

What do you plan to do with her? the darkness hissed, the evil imp always lurking over his shoulder. He paced in what amounted to his study, the sky full of stars and Emma slumbering somewhere below in the castle. It wanted to take her and twist her, but he refused to allow it.

For the first time in years, Killian spoke aloud to his demons. “I don’t plan to do anything. She gets what I never had in all of this: a choice.”

====

Once upon a time, a young woman lived in a castle. This wasn’t the castle of her birth, but it was a castle all the same -- drafty and enormous, far too many rooms for the only two people living in it, and full of secrets. She found many of these secrets on accident: hidden passageways, libraries full of cobweb-covered books, a treasure room full of magical artifacts that made her magic itch under her skin. Some secrets were laid in the open but never talked about: the blood on the doorstep most mornings, the hand she found in the kitchen, a collection of ears in a chest.

This should have, and would have, frightened any number of normal young women, but Emma was far from a normal young woman anymore.

She knew he was the Dark One, so finding collections of strange, arcane objects and evidence of dark doings wasn’t as outrageous as it may have been. Killian treated her well and never made threats against her -- outside of arguments, where she gave as good as she got and was rewarded with an amused smirk -- so she never felt unsafe in his presence, but the way he seemed to drink heavily and return with more strange talismans and more blood left around the castle after their lessons did bother her. If she was the cause of all this rage and theft and dark magic, why wasn’t he taking it out on her?

She shouldn’t be asking why she was still alive, but the thought nagged at her all the same.

Mother had always drilled into her to expect the worst in people, after all.

But even confronting him didn’t give her any answers, only a change in what she was given to study. Light magic left her feeling odd, like her head was stuffed with cotton and her limbs tingled like she’d touched something metal after walking on carpets in winter. It wasn’t worse than the feelings she’d had when Mother made her cast dark spells, but it still didn’t quite sit well with her. “Not a light witch or a dark wizard, just… something dull and gray in between,” Emma muttered one night, flipping a page and squinting to read the writing by the light of her candle.

“Hardly dull, sadly.”

It was Killian’s voice, but there was something different about it. She turned in her chair and he leaned against the window. He looked terrible, sallow and hollow-eyed in the candlelight, his hair matted down as if he’d been sweating through a fever. He grinned and it was unnerving, lips stretched a bit too wide and showing a few too many teeth. His skin even glistened in the light, making her wonder if he really was feverish -- could Dark Ones get sick? “He likes you,” he said, and again she tried to pinpoint what was different about his voice. “That’s the only thing keeping us from slitting your throat when you sleep -- no, that’s far too easy, we like to watch people squirm. You’d shriek, wouldn’t you? Beg for mercy, offer us whatever we like if only we’d let you live?”

There were multiple tones in his voice -- a deep baritone cracking over words, a high-pitched giggle trilling at the end of a question, a cold feminine rasp. This isn’t him, she realized. “Is this what you do?” she asked. “Take him over like he’s some kind of puppet and whisper scary bedtime stories?”

The Dark One moved so fast it was like a blur, hovering over her and pressing her back in her chair, and this close she could see the manic look in his eyes, the pinpricks his pupils had shrunk to, the redness and the deep purple splotches under his skin. “He’s weak,” they rasped -- and it had to be the voices of Dark Ones past, that’s what Mother had said, right? No one could truly kill the Dark One, only take on the mantle of all who came before? “He refuses to act as he should, dabbling in training a witch like you in light magic. He could be powerful and feared but he locks himself away like--”

“Like a terrible thing that needs to be locked away?” Emma snapped, pushing him -- them -- away. “I haven’t heard of anything as bad as the last Dark One, so apparently he’s doing a good job of that. You’re just mad you don’t get to run as free as you want, you’re like a dog tied up at the market--”

Pinned to the wall by the hand to her throat, the rest of her taunt died as she struggled to breathe. Her feet couldn’t touch the floor and she wrapped her hands around his wrist in futility. “K--Kil--”

The wicked snarl on his face only widened and for the first time she felt true fear around him. “Killian--”

His face twitched and his features relaxed into something less feral, his eyes returning to normal, then widened in shock and fear before he pulled away, letting her drop to the floor. Emma gasped, pulling in air until her chest hurt, and coughed to clear the tightness lingering around her neck. She saw his boots shuffle backwards, and then a swirl of red smoke signaled his departure, leaving her to process what had happened.

Alone.

====

Once upon a time, a man slew a monster, only to become a monster himself.

The darkness loved to play with his mind, replaying the deaths of those he loved most over and over in his memories, twisting them and making them worse than even the horrible truth had been. He saw Liam’s skin crack open and bleed black blood, darkness seeping out of his nostrils and the gurgling sounds of a man drowning in his own blood so real that Killian was no longer sure if he’d only died of dreamshade poisoning and a stopped heart. He saw himself ripping Milah’s heart from her chest and crushing it, watching her collapse lifeless onto the deck of his old ship -- worse was knowing that the previous Dark Ones shared his mind and this was entirely likely to be a true memory with his own face plastered over Rumplestiltskin’s. But there were other nights when he was treated to visions of abusing the power one had over possessing another’s heart, taking possession of her mind and her body. He didn’t know if someone could be killed while their heart remained whole and outside of their body, but the darkness showed him all the ways it could have made Milah walk willingly into her own death, by her own hand or others.

Once, Emma commented that he looked feverish all the time, like he was overheated and needed a cool bath. Dark Ones were hardly bothered by something as simple as the temperature, but the worst fates that could be laid upon those he’d once loved were enough to give even the most mortal of men the sweats.

Waking from his latest plunge into the darkness, seeing Emma fearful of him and being crushed by his own hand? He was willing to walk into a thousand fiery deaths if only to make up for the terrified look on her face.

He stayed away from her for a time; she didn’t leave, which was curious, but he saw her in his scrying bowl in the library, her head bent over her books and purpling marks around her neck.

He hated the sight of that. She had such a lovely neck, she --

You like her, the darkness had whispered, weeks before, and he’d vehemently denied it. He was interested in what she could become, that was all, and it was to his advantage at the time to indebt her to him. But she had a choice now, he’d promised himself. He’d freed her of the debt she never knew she’d had, removed the price of learning.

The darkness liked exacting payment from people. Was that why it had acted out, taking over in his moments of weakness, hurting her?

She was still in the library later when he slipped in, his hand in his pocket. She looked up when his footsteps grew near and it was a small comfort that she didn’t cower away from his approach. “You look better,” she commented.

“You don’t,” he said, and went behind her, draping his gift around her neck.

The diamond necklace had arrived in his treasury as most things did: with no knowledge or history of how it got there, only his bloody hand and hook and the scent of expensive perfume lingering on his clothes. But diamonds, like all gemstones, held magic well and the sheer number of them would do wonders to speed up the healing spell he’d placed on it. Emma’s hands went to it, automatically holding the chains in place as he looped them around her neck and used a bit of magic to help close the clasp. Stepping back, he noted with pleasure that the bruises were already starting to fade.

She conjured a mirror to see the full effect and he noted how easily the magic was done; when she’d arrived, she couldn’t even conjure sugar for her tea, but this was more solid, more real, and easily broken if done incorrectly. “You’ve improved immensely,” he murmured, watching her admire the jewelry and the healing effects.

“I had a good teacher,” she said, her voice just as low.

“Emma, about the other night…”

“Don’t. I know it wasn’t you,” she said, catching his reflection’s eye.

“It doesn’t make it right,” he said. “I apologize, for harming you as well as frightening you. I…”

She shook her head. “It’s… well, we can move past it. It was something beyond your control.”

Fury built in his chest, not at her but at the circumstances of her life that made her shrug away a brush with death. He could have killed her, the power at his fingertips -- the power controlling his fingertips -- should have killed her, but something in her had broken through and found him drowning in the depths. “No, Emma,” he snapped, making her look back at him. “The darkness is afraid of you.”

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“You. You’re… different. It’s… it doesn’t like to be challenged, only obeyed. I have been a consistent thorn in its side, refusing to do as it wants or follow orders.” He felt like he bled these words out, the darkness ripping at his defenses to keep him silent, keep him from spilling its secrets to this woman it feared so much. “It’s particularly damaging when my defenses are down, or when it can break through them. I don’t remember where I go or what I do, though I have an idea. I’m weak, especially susceptible to its control, and your challenge only made it… worse.”

“So it is my fault,” Emma said softly.

He turned her chair and knelt before her, looking at her properly for the first time in days. “No,” he said earnestly. “You… you frighten it, which is enough of a miracle on its own. It’s not your fault I was weak, that I couldn’t control it. I’d wondered why it hadn’t led me to kill you if it was so frightened of you. And I wonder still, but I believe the other night was because I refuse to let it indebt you to me when you’ve completed your training.”

He watched a thousand emotions cross her face; she’d told him how she’d grown up, enslaved to the woman she’d called Mother with fear tactics and the threat of being controlled by others for her magic. He refused to be one of the monsters in her childhood nightmares, chaining her and claiming her, using her as the darkness saw fit -- just as he’d hidden the dagger that bore his name, refusing to let others chain and claim him to be used as his jailer saw fit.

He knew what it was like to have the threat of freedom stolen from under you and refused to allow her the same fears.

“It’s afraid of me?” she asked, and he wondered when she’d taken his hand in her own; she squeezed as a flicker of wonder and fear crossed her face.

“Terrified. I don’t… I don’t know how well I can control it, but it’s why I changed your learning around. It was worse with the light magic.”

She looked away. “I see… and it would probably like it if I did more dark magic, but I can’t stand the feeling of dark magic.”

She’d like it more if she practiced more, the darkness whispered in his mind, and he wondered how often that her mother had the same thought. He gripped her hand tighter as he slammed his defenses back up, imagining a wall of glass three feet thick between himself and the demons taunting him. “You don’t have to do more dark magic. You don’t have to do anything to appease the darkness, Emma, that’s my burden to bear. In fact --” The idea struck him so suddenly that he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It wasn’t as if he’d formed a particular attachment to the place, and there were enough enchantments to keep it running that she would hardly notice if he’d left. “Perhaps I should be the one to leave. There are enough learning tools here to keep you busy until you feel ready to move on. You’ve been doing well on your own with the magics I can’t do, and you’re surer of yourself than you were when you came here. I can spell a few rooms to make them safe to practice in without causing havoc across the countryside.”

The more he spoke, the better an idea it became. He would leave the castle to her, let her practice and perhaps visit the port enough to reassure them the Dark One was truly gone. He knew the town suffered a bit from trade from his presence, but the threat of him had also kept the peace so no one seemed to mind all that much. Perhaps she’d simply stay, take over as the lady of the land. She’d do good here, not some insufferable white witch like those blasted fairies, but not a terrible dark queen like his demons wanted her to become -- a real person who understood there needed to be balance.

“Killian.” Emma’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he noticed the confusion in her eyes. “What are you saying, that you’d give up your home for me?”

“Well, more that I’d give it to you, let you--”

Whatever he’d been planning to say next died in his throat as she leaned forward and kissed him, and for the first time in a very long time all of the voices that haunted him fell silent. He felt normal, with no looming darkness in the back of his mind making him feel like he needed to keep looking over his shoulder, keep running, keep doing something to keep the darkness from swallowing him whole.

Like there was a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel of his life.

She started to pull away and he realized he’d done nothing but let her kiss him with no reciprocation. Well, that simply won’t do, he thought, and for once there was no response from anyone else except himself: I need to kiss her again.

And so he reached for that light, meeting her lips again, and feeling like her shine could ward even the darkest of his nightmares away.

====

Once upon a time, darkness descended from a castle tucked away, and brought light to a town by the sea. The traveling magic maid, it seemed, had staked her claim, though to what exactly the townsfolk were never quite sure. No longer did she dabble in tricks of her trade: instead, they found her hands pressed against the earth, against feverish skin and splinted limbs. She disappeared each night, back to the castle where darkness lurked, but returned each morning with a smile and a will to continue her work. What to make of her, they hardly knew, but it was the pirates, in the end, that brought shadows on the heels of her light.

Rarely had the Dark One been seen in all the years he’d festered in the castle up the way, but down he came, in answer to the maid’s call, a raging force stronger than any sea. The townsfolk stuck to the shadows while he made quick work of the pirates, trading murmured words when the maid removed her cloak and made to follow. Light turned to dark, turned water red at port, and only when the screams were silenced and their hands met did the magic in the air fizzle into something altogether gray.

The blood didn’t seem to bother her, the maid, and it went hardly noticed by the Dark One as a heavy mist crept into town, his teeth gritted all the while muttering about bad form. The maid only leaned in close, her hand on his cheek and an almost peaceful calm on his face at her touch; she whispered something that may have sounded something like home, and the red followed them up in a cloud of smoke.

And when the next dawn broke, the maid returned, with the same beatific smile on her face as always, and went back to her work keeping all but the worst darkness at bay.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs role reversal #cs angst #ouat #it's angsty yeah and also just.... it's fucked up in parts

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libraryofvenus · 3 years

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Middle Passage - Robert Hayden

I Jesús, Estrella, Esperanza, Mercy: Sails flashing to the wind like weapons, sharks following the moans the fever and the dying; horror the corposant and compass rose. Middle Passage: voyage through death to life upon these shores. “10 April 1800— Blacks rebellious. Crew uneasy. Our linguist says their moaning is a prayer for death, ours and their own. Some try to starve themselves. Lost three this morning leaped with crazy laughter to the waiting sharks, sang as they went under.” Desire, Adventure, Tartar, Ann: Standing to America, bringing home black gold, black ivory, black seed. Deep in the festering hold thy father lies, of his bones New England pews are made, those are altar lights that were his eyes. Jesus Saviour Pilot Me Over Life’s Tempestuous Sea We pray that Thou wilt grant, O Lord, safe passage to our vessels bringing heathen souls unto Thy chastening. Jesus Saviour “8 bells. I cannot sleep, for I am sick with fear, but writing eases fear a little since still my eyes can see these words take shape upon the page & so I write, as one would turn to exorcism. 4 days scudding, but now the sea is calm again. Misfortune follows in our wake like sharks (our grinning tutelary gods). Which one of us has killed an albatross? A plague among our blacks—Ophthalmia: blindness—& we have jettisoned the blind to no avail. It spreads, the terrifying sickness spreads. Its claws have scratched sight from the Capt.'s eyes & there is blindness in the fo’c’sle & we must sail 3 weeks before we come to port.” What port awaits us, Davy Jones’ or home? I’ve heard of slavers drifting, drifting, playthings of wind and storm and chance, their crews gone blind, the jungle hatred crawling up on deck. Thou Who Walked On Galilee “Deponent further sayeth The Bella J left the Guinea Coast with cargo of five hundred blacks and odd for the barracoons of Florida: “That there was hardly room ’tween-decks for half the sweltering cattle stowed spoon-fashion there; that some went mad of thirst and tore their flesh and sucked the blood: “That Crew and Captain lusted with the comeliest of the savage girls kept naked in the cabins; that there was one they called The Guinea Rose and they cast lots and fought to lie with her: “That when the Bo’s’n piped all hands, the flames spreading from starboard already were beyond control, the negroes howling and their chains entangled with the flames: “That the burning blacks could not be reached, that the Crew abandoned ship, leaving their shrieking negresses behind, that the Captain perished drunken with the wenches: “Further Deponent sayeth not.” Pilot Oh Pilot Me II Aye, lad, and I have seen those factories, Gambia, Rio Pongo, Calabar; have watched the artful mongos baiting traps of war wherein the victor and the vanquished Were caught as prizes for our barracoons. Have seen the nigger kings whose vanity and greed turned wild black hides of Fellatah, Mandingo, Ibo, Kru to gold for us. And there was one—King Anthracite we named him— fetish face beneath French parasols of brass and orange velvet, impudent mouth whose cups were carven skulls of enemies: He’d honor us with drum and feast and conjo and palm-oil-glistening wenches deft in love, and for tin crowns that shone with paste, red calico and German-silver trinkets Would have the drums talk war and send his warriors to burn the sleeping villages and kill the sick and old and lead the young in coffles to our factories. Twenty years a trader, twenty years, for there was wealth aplenty to be harvested from those black fields, and I’d be trading still but for the fevers melting down my bones. III Shuttles in the rocking loom of history, the dark ships move, the dark ships move, their bright ironical names like jests of kindness on a murderer’s mouth; plough through thrashing glister toward fata morgana’s lucent melting shore, weave toward New World littorals that are mirage and myth and actual shore. Voyage through death, voyage whose chartings are unlove. A charnel stench, effluvium of living death spreads outward from the hold, where the living and the dead, the horribly dying, lie interlocked, lie foul with blood and excrement. Deep in the festering hold thy father lies, the corpse of mercy rots with him, rats eat love’s rotten gelid eyes. But, oh, the living look at you with human eyes whose suffering accuses you, whose hatred reaches through the swill of dark to strike you like a leper’s claw. You cannot stare that hatred down or chain the fear that stalks the watches and breathes on you its fetid scorching breath; cannot kill the deep immortal human wish, the timeless will. “But for the storm that flung up barriers of wind and wave, The Amistad, señores, would have reached the port of Príncipe in two, three days at most; but for the storm we should have been prepared for what befell. Swift as the puma’s leap it came. There was that interval of moonless calm filled only with the water’s and the rigging’s usual sounds, then sudden movement, blows and snarling cries and they had fallen on us with machete and marlinspike. It was as though the very air, the night itself were striking us. Exhausted by the rigors of the storm, we were no match for them. Our men went down before the murderous Africans. Our loyal Celestino ran from below with gun and lantern and I saw, before the cane- knife’s wounding flash, Cinquez, that surly brute who calls himself a prince, directing, urging on the ghastly work. He hacked the poor mulatto down, and then he turned on me. The decks were slippery when daylight finally came. It sickens me to think of what I saw, of how these apes threw overboard the butchered bodies of our men, true Christians all, like so much jetsam. Enough, enough. The rest is quickly told: Cinquez was forced to spare the two of us you see to steer the ship to Africa, and we like phantoms doomed to rove the sea voyaged east by day and west by night, deceiving them, hoping for rescue, prisoners on our own vessel, till at length we drifted to the shores of this your land, America, where we were freed from our unspeakable misery. Now we demand, good sirs, the extradition of Cinquez and his accomplices to La Havana. And it distresses us to know there are so many here who seem inclined to justify the mutiny of these blacks. We find it paradoxical indeed that you whose wealth, whose tree of liberty are rooted in the labor of your slaves should suffer the august John Quincy Adams to speak with so much passion of the right of chattel slaves to kill their lawful masters and with his Roman rhetoric weave a hero’s garland for Cinquez. I tell you that we are determined to return to Cuba with our slaves and there see justice done. Cinquez— or let us say ‘the Prince’—Cinquez shall die.” The deep immortal human wish, the timeless will: Cinquez its deathless primaveral image, life that transfigures many lives. Voyage through death to life upon these shores.

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ay I have an ikesen matchup, please? I’m an asexual cis girl who leans to boys. Yet, shy around them. Lacking some experience with general things. So I tend to be obvious. Sometimes sarcastic and bold, but with an innocent mindset. Since most dirty jokes fly over my head and I think some people mean well. Though being a little sensitive and may cry.

I’ve been told I can get lost in my own world. I’m a tan brown girl with dark brown curly hair. A petite figure, 5'6. I have a girly, pastel free attire. I love vintage things, post-rock, jazz songs. I love to draw and express myself through art. My dream is to become an illustrator or cartoonist. Including my love for stuff animals, Grimm brother tales.

Hi hi Love! 🌻❤Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy it and i hope you have the best day! Also sorry for taking soooooo long! ❤❤🌻

So I match you with…………. Hideyoshi

The first time you arrived at the castle, Hideyoshi did not trust you one bit. He watched you like a hawk from day one. He didn’t like it when strangers got so close to his lord.

You kept your head down and worked hard, and all the maids and castle staff really adored you. You were so sweet and kind, like a little rabbit. Even Nobunaga had taken a liking to you, and as classic standard procedure for him, he invited you up to his room that night. When Mamabear heard that Nobunaga has called you to his room, Hidemama, was on high alert. He and Mitsuhide had followed you as you made your way to Nobunaga’s room. They hid in the shadows, and when you finally entered their lord’s room, they placed their ears against the door ready to burst into the room at a seconds notice.

You shyly made your way up the stairs into Nobu’s room, you hadn’t seen him since he named you as, princess. It wasn't even 3 second into the conversations when he, made a pass at you, about wanting you to warm his bed for the night. A comment which mind you, flew right over your head. Your mind was so innocent and pure, and this boy legit had to explain his intentions to you, which left you blushing. You very kindly told him that you were not that kind of girl, “Fine then fireball, but I still expect you to entertain me somehow.” You were curious as to why someone so busy was still awake so late, and that’s when he told you that he struggles to fall asleep. You gave him a gentle smile and said that you knew a few tips and tricks that could help.

You told him to lay down in his futon, he did as you asked with the most amused glint in his crimson eyes. You then tucked him in and started playing with his hair. “You are treating me like a child, fireball.” You gave him another one of your gentle smiles, you couldn’t help but make a sarcastic comeback to his comment. Nobunaga simply smirked up at you, especially after you mentioned that you were going to tell him a bedtime story. You knew so many stories thanks to your love of the brothers Grimm tales. By the end of your story, Nobunaga’s breath had evened out, and he was now fast asleep.

Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide knew that if you were to do something, now would be the ideal opportunity. They strained their ears to hear what you were saying. You looked down at the sleeping man’s face and smiled, “Here is one more thing to make sure you sleep soundly.” When Hideyoshi heard you say those words, he opened the door to peek inside the room, it sounded like you were going to kill him. He was shook when you kissed the man’s forehead and stood up, extinguishing the candles. Hideyoshi is that moment realized he had majorly misjudged you, you weren’t an assassin, you were just an extremely kind sweet girl.

The next morning you woke up to your room that was filled to the brim with clothes, flowers and little trinkets. You were super confused, even more so when Hideyoshi had entered into your room carrying a tray of breakfast and a sunshine smile. You had to do a bit of a double-take cause you have never seen anything other than a scowl coming from Hideyoshi. “Oooh good you're awake, I brought you some breakfast, and I came to apologize for the horrible way I’ve been treating you.” He then bowed down super low to you. Honestly, it all felt like one big dream.

Hideyoshi then invited you out to the markets where he absolutely insisted on buying you even more gifts, to make up for his mistakes. You had come to really enjoy this new side of Yoshi, he was super sweet and kind, like a protective older brother

Since then every spare moment he got, he would spend with you. The two of you loved going out for tea together or just browsing the markets. When Hideyoshi had discovered that you enjoyed jazz music he would take you to any and every jazz performance he could find. He would usually make up a picnic basket, filled with delicious snacks and then surprise you with an outdoor picnic concert. The two of you would then sit and enjoy some good food, and music together.

Hideyoshi loved spending time with you, and the more time the two of you spent together, the more and more he found himself falling hopelessly in love with you. He loved your sweet, pure, innocent mind. You were honestly like the female version of his sweet angelic vassal. Who like you was blissfully unaware of Mitsuhide and Masamune’s dirty jokes and minds.

He also enjoyed watching your bold, sarcastic side come out. It would usually happen when he would confront Mitsuhide. In the midst of his arguments with the snek, you would be right there by Hideyoshi’s side, backing him up. Firing sarcastic comebacks at Mitsuhide whenever he gets on Hideyoshi’s nerves, or evades Hidemama’s questions with sarcastic remarks.

Hideyoshi also loves that you love animals. This boys heart melts into a puddle of goo whenever he sees you playing with Uri, his pet monkey. He will stand in the doorway, beaming with pure happiness at the sight of his two beloved girls spending time together. It was then when Hideyoshi started to make plans to confess his love for you. This doting mother is a hopeless romantic so its, go big or go home when it comes to love.

That morning you woke up to a little not resting next to your pillow, the note contained instructions to a game. You smiled as you solved the small riddle at the bottom of the page leading you to the next clue. After running around the castle solving all sorts of little puzzles, the final note led you to Hideyoshi’s manor. You open the main door to see a path of rose petals leading you outside. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, Hideyoshi standing in front of a candlelit dinner in the middle of his garden. Honestly, the best part was that he had dressed little Uri up like a waiter, who gave you a single red rose and the final note with the words sprawled across the page, “I love you.”

The two of you made the sweetest couple. Hideyoshi loved everything about you from your loving, kind heart to your sarcastic, bold side. He loved it when you would doodle small cartoon pictures on the napkins during your tea dates. He loved the beautiful art pieces that you would create, they expressed so much emotion and always left him breathless. He would proudly display all your art around the manor.

When you had told him your dream of becoming a cartoonist and illustrator, he was ecstatic and was determined to help you make that dream come true, even though you were now stuck in the past. Yoshi introduced some of your drawings to Nobunaga, who loved your illustrations so much that he commissioned you to start writing children’s books, to inspire the young minds to follow their dreams. And although Nobunaga would never admit it, he loves reading your children’s books at night, as they to help calm his cluttered mind enough for him to fall asleep.

Hideyoshi knows what a soft sensitive soul you are, and is always by your side to protect you against anyone or anything. If you are feeling low or sad, he would gather you in his strong arms and whispers words of love in your ears. Honestly, this man will shower you with love and affection from dusk to dawn. He absolutely loves to dote on you so, expect to be pampered like the sweet princess you are, cause this man WILL spoil you.

Yoshi loves to sit behind you with his arms circled around your waist and his chin propped up resting on your shoulder, as you draw your latest illustrations. He could spend hours just watching you bring the most beautiful and creative drawings and cartoons to life.

Don’t be surprised if he occasionally drops a few sweet kisses on your shoulder or cheek as you work. He will 100% brag about your work to everyone in the castle after you are done. He is your biggest cheerleader, and he loves everything you do.

Often the two of you cuties can be found simply holding hands in the teahouse, chatting away about everything and anything.

Other potential matches………….. Kennyo

I hope you enjoyed it and i hope you have a super good day! 🌻😳🐇@daydreamerneko123

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