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rosecreates · 8 months

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The Devil Within

On a night where Nimue regains another, rather awful memory of her past during her trance, she runs off to vomit into a bush in the forest whilst plagued by a terrible headache, and unknowingly is followed by Astarion, who isn't keen to let her completely get out of explaining what's wrong.

Word Count: 2,524

Pairing(s): Vague Dark Urge/Astarion during their friends-with-benefits phase

Characters: Nimue (My Dark Urge), Astarion, Alfira mentions

Warnings: Spoilers for Act 1 Dark Urge stuff. It's for the most part introspection into my Dark Urge Nimue. Lot's o' angst with...some comfort, sorta, it's Act 1 Astarion so he sort of does his own weird way of trying to help. Dark Urge-typical violent themes. Light emetophobia warning, as whilst it's not descriptive Nimue vomits due to her urge. Not proofread.

A/N: I wrote this on a whim, first time I've written anything BG3-related actually and first time in a long time that I've written anything outside of Tumblr RP, so forgive me if Astarion's character isn't written the best or in general if the writing isn't great. But it's mostly about Nim anyway and I wrote this for fun. Title is from the song by Digital Daggers, "The Devil Within". The song is practically Nim's urge talking to her directly.

Light pink eyes look around, the little elf they belonged to finding her vision bleary as she processes what's going on. Her head is absolutely throbbing. And red. There's so much red. All over her, all over the ground at her feet- blood. It's blood. The ground is white marble, once pristine but now positively drenched in ichor. But from what, the elven girl wonders, as her sight grows clearer, and her gaze finally finds the source.

The sea of corpses that lie many feet in front of her, before a pulpit where a priest is hunched over with a knife sticking out of his back. She recoils, horror consuming her face, screaming as she falls unto the bloodstained ground. She feels ready to vomit, and gods, her head aches so badly. And yet. And yet, there is a certain satisfaction that she feels, despite the bile that feels ready to consume her. Satisfaction?

Soon, realization dawns on her at what had transpired.

It happened again.

She had done this.

The little elf was the sole one to blame for this grisly crime.

Nimue snaps out of her trance with start, breathing heavily as she regained her bearings, her head hurting once more as, just like in the memory, she felt ready to puke.

Another memory of the past, it seemed, and a violent one at that. One that appeared to indicate that these blasted urges she'd been suffering from ever since she awoke on the Nautiloid truly had always been with her, even before she'd been afflicted with amnesia. And the incident with Alfira...wasn't the first time she'd ever blacked out and committed murder in her life, either.

But there were still too many questions she had about the nature of this urge, and why she was saddled with memory loss. But her infuriating butler won't tell her anything. No matter how much she tried to press him when he appeared to her the night after she killed Alfira, he didn't budge. She hated indulging her urge, but she wouldn't be opposed to letting it direct her for once against that ugly creature that called itself Sceleritas Fel.

Alfira...her mind wanders back to that night. The grief she'd suffered immediately after the unintentional murder returns- as if it ever left, because it certainly didn't. Nimue had been ready to welcome Alfira as part of her camp, to become yet another member of the group of wayward strangers united by their need to find a cure for the tadpole in their heads that Nimue found herself de-facto leader of.

Nimue had internally declared herself their protector, despite the fact you could hardly call a woman constantly fighting against her urges to kill all of them in cold blood fit to protect just about anyone. But she thought she had control over those urges. A foolish thought in hindsight, but she thought that redirecting them towards her enemies and using the urges to make her at least a decent protector was working.

In the end, she was only trying to lie to herself, and had underestimated how truly catastrophic her urges were. That underestimation of them led to Alfira's death. Sweet Alfira, who wanted to just go on an adventure with people who were nice enough to help her with her still-ongoing journey to finishing a song for her deceased teacher, who'd perished to gnolls only a short time prior. Nimue finds a slight smile forming on her face as she thinks about the tragedy of it all, of having reunited the apprentice bard with her beloved mentor through a gruesome death perhaps even more awful than the demise Lihala had faced, before shaking her head rapidly.

She hates this. She hates it. None else in this camp are any the wiser to it, thinking her to be their stoic but well-meaning leader, who tries her best to protect them whilst also helping who she can at the same time, but not without asking for compensation. What would they think, if they learned how she usually only helped others because she wanted to spite her urge? How she hasn't the faintest idea of a moral compass, only going by what would make her party happy and to resist against this vile urge hers?

How deep down, she's really just a wretched coward who doesn't even know who she is beyond what fragments of memory slowly resurface, who feels only cold apathy in face of most people beyond her companions, who doesn't even truly understand her own emotions. That is, all except for the fear that drives her, the fear of losing control, and the even worse fear of being alone. That fear is pathetic, she knows, and yet it is also part of why she's managed to continue having enough willpower to remain as she has been.

No one needs to know a thing of what a monster she really is beneath the perfect ethereal facade of a mild-mannered but good-intentioned leader she puts up. But how long can she keep it up? How long until the others start to realize what frigidity lies within the heart of their beloved leader Nim?

She doesn't want to know. If she can keep this up forever, she happily would. She just needs to keep her wits about her, to fight against her urge even harder, now that she knows it can take control of her even when she trances. She has to admit, ever since Alfira's death, she's been trancing even less, and she's been plagued by horrible memories whenever she did trance.

How was she supposed to deal with the prospect that she could trance and then wake up to find herself standing over the corpse of one of her beloved companions? They, who were all that kept her connected to whatever humanity remains within her otherwise monstrous being that hid within the skin of a High Elf?

Dammit, she really is going to be sick. With haste, she gets up from her bedroll as quickly as she can, a hand over her mouth to try to hold it back. She doesn't want anyone to hear her, to see her in this sort of state. And she retches into the nearby bush once she thinks she's far enough away from camp, shaking as her head is still gnawing at her.

"My, you look positively dreadful for once."

She freezes.

Astarion.

Of course the only other fucking elf in camp, who experienced the same sort of trances that had him semi-conscious and bore the same keen senses, would end up breaking from his trance and catching her running from camp with vomit barely held back in her throat and throwing up inexplicably. Of course he would. She has to wonder how he didn't catch her when she murdered Alfira, frankly.

But in fairness to those godsforsaken urges of hers, they weren't stupid. They had gotten Alfira a little farther from her companions before maiming the poor bard. Still, she has to wonder if the vampire knew more than he was letting on.

Or maybe she was just paranoid. Yeah, she's probably just paranoid. Because she's afraid, and god her head is agonizing right now but she can't let him know. He's certainly the one person at camp who'd perhaps make the least fuss about learning her darker nature, but she still doesn't want him to know.

No one needs to know. Nor should they. It's why she never pried into her companions' pasts unless it was truly necessary. She'd say it's because they didn't pry into her past, but she'd been frank with them that she didn't remember anything at all of it. Rather, none were all that nosy, and so she wasn't nosy either, despite her admitted curiosity.

"Had a bad trance, that's all. Sorry if I broke yours."

The icy stoicism was up in full force as she tried to brush it off, even though anyone who was at least mediocre in reading people could tell there was more than she wanted to tell. The way Astarion's crimson eyes narrowed said as much. His beautiful blood-colored eyes, that she'd love to tear out of his skull slowly and carefully to admire from up close- shut up shut up shut up.

"I saw you scurry away from camp as fast as you could and vomit into that bush there, darling."

Of course he saw that.

Her gaze remains cold as it looks at Astarion, pretending to be entirely unfazed. "...And if I did?"

"Normally? I wouldn't care much, but I've noticed you've been...how should I say this, quite disheveled lately, in comparison to that almost irritatingly perfect composure you usually have. You've only ever been anywhere near this much of a mess on that lovely night you and I lost ourselves in one another's bodies. Obviously a good kind of mess, unlike this."

Ah yes, that time where Nimue had taken up the vampire's offer of a night of carnal pleasure, all in hopes of distracting herself for a while from, well, mainly her urges, but also from everything in general. And it had worked. Kind of. The pleasure barely managed to be louder than the urges. It's not that she hadn't enjoyed that night, but it barely achieved what she wanted. And she wasn't sure how 'there' Astarion had been during it. He'd looked so...far away, even though he was right there at the same time.

Still, anything was better than nothing when it came to her damn urges. And right now, she's focused on Astarion not managing to pick at her enough to get insight into her true mental state. He may be being very...casual about this for the most part, but he clearly wanted answers. She's not exactly sure why- it doesn't matter anyway, because she won't give them to him.

"Where are you going with this?" She queries, brow raising slightly.

"What have you been seeing in your trances recently that's caused you to be in this kind of state, darling?"

At least he thinks it's just her seeing bad things in her trances. Her gaze does not move from him as she proceeds to answer with cool-collectedness.

"It's nothing, really, Ast-"

His unimpressed look makes her stop, before she weaves together another sentence to try to get him to stop.

"...It's just been some memories of some difficult battles, that's all."

He narrows his eyes at her. He doesn't buy it. "You may think no one notices, but we've all seen how you delight in spilling the blood of your enemies."

"You can enjoy killing their enemies whilst being haunted by nearly losing your life, or an ally almost losing their life."

He scoffs. "Please, your blatant lack of self-preservation is painfully obvious, as much as I loathe it."

Astarion had certainly made no secret of how he dislikes Nimue going and helping others, especially when it put her or others in danger, that's for sure. Or well, Nimue usually only put herself in danger. She'd rather die than anyone else.

They fall into silence for a few moments, Astarion waiting for her to finally tell what's going on, and Nimue not wanting to say anything. Nimue breaks it first, when she realized Astarion wasn't going to budge.

And perhaps because she wanted to take the chance that she could tell him at least a little of what's going on.

So, she sighs, and in her soft, and right now quite weary voice, she finally explains a little. "...I've been slowly getting back pieces of my memory. But the memories...aren't good ones."

Most of her trances have actually been occupied by the memory of the night she killed Alfira, but he doesn't need to know that.

He tilts his head to the side, and his face shows he just wants her to continue. Begrudgingly, she does. "Tonight, the memory I got was...of a younger me, surrounded by corpses, in...a church, I think. The memory distressed me enough that I felt the overwhelming need to vomit. So I did. And I have a headache. Probably because of not getting great rest."

Astarion evidently listens closely to each word, and nods once Nimue finishes, his arms crossing as he speaks. "Well, it's good that it seems like your memories aren't lost forever." He starts, before he seems to pause to contemplate what to say or do next.

It seems he's not really sure how to proceed, actually. Nimue silently questions why he came if he didn't even know what to do when she fessed up about what's going on. "You're aware you don't need to keep this to yourself, mm? I'm sure the others would let you vent your troubles and help you gladly."

Nimue's gaze finally falls from Astarion to the bush beside her she'd puked in earlier. "...I didn't want to trouble them." It's not a lie. They all have their own problems. Although there's a lot more to this than her simply not wanting to be a burden.

Astarion rolls his eyes. "How about you stop playing the woefully selfless hero already? You've already helped them plenty. They could do to help you a bit in return."

Nimue doesn't respond, her gaze staying on the bush. A minute passes before Astarion dramatically sighs, shaking his head, prompting Nimue to look at him once again. "Tell me, do you plan to try to trance again soon, or not?"

Nimue shakes her head. "I don't think I'll be able to, if I'm going to be honest." Astarion makes a sound of annoyance, before walking closer to her.

"Well, luckily for you, I don't plan to either."

"You don't have to stay up with-"

"Shush, darling. First, let's return to camp, yes?" He motions for her to follow him, and she follows silently, them returning to camp side by side, before he leads her onto the rock formation at the camp's center. At first, she's confused what he's doing, but he soon sits down, and pats the spot beside him, signaling for her to do the same. She obeys, and he proceeds to point up at the sky, where from here they get a lovely view of the starry night sky above.

Ah. He was getting her to stargaze with him. To get her mind off the bad memory.

And, well, she can't say she's upset about it. The stars tonight are gorgeous, she has to admit. She always did love the stars, or well, she'd loved them since she spent her first night camping with everyone. And Astarion- befitting the meaning of his name- was quite fond of them as well.

This was...really nice. Her head still hurts, but it feels like it hurts a bit less right now. And her urges had decided to be quieter now, giving her a welcome slight reprieve for now.

Neither her nor Astarion uttered another word, but simply admired the stars together. Tomorrow would surely have an endless amount of horrors awaiting them as always, but that wasn't right now.

Right now?

She felt the closest thing to peace she had in a long while.

#{writing}#{fanfiction}#{oc fic}#{bg3 fic}#{oc: nimue}#{bg3 - astarion}#bg3 #writing #bg3 writing #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion bg3 #dark urge #bg3 dark urge #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x dark urge #astarion x durge #do not ask me how i vomited up a 2.5k word fanfic between like 10 pm - 2 am i do not fucking know what came over me #anyway hurray for the first bit of writing on this blog i am going to sleep now #as previously stated this is my first bg3 fic so apologies if astarion isnt exactly written the best. again this was focused on nim so yea #i tried y'all but im not gonna go over and proofread this in my current state + this was for fun #hope y'all like this though ive been wanting to write stuff of nim for some time now #maybe when i gain enough confidence i will write what ive really been wanting to write and do something of nim from others' povs #i dunno we will see #anyways goodnight

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nahalism · 28 days

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i just quit my job, that drained me. It feels both bad and good, because I don't have another one lined up, but it takes out all my life energy. The energy of my coworkers is dark and bullying, it's disrespectful. One of them is giving me the chills since day 1 and has dark energy. I don't know if witchcraft is a thing, but I randomly saw a video about it, i think it was wizardliz and how she said you take that energy and get these thought w you, even if you don't want it, i was like, ok this is exactly this person. It's hard to explain. Anyway, in the end it's me allowing myself getting disrespected. It means I'm not in the right place. The darkness that it gives me, is pushing me to see the light. But still I feel bad, cause a lot of people need a job, want a job, and I threw it away after 4 years. I'm sorry for ranting in your inbox. I didn't tell anybody, because I know people talk me out of it, cause it's a good job and you need money right. But i feel like i'd hang myself, being around these people a day longer. I don't wanna say there's bad people, but it felt lke that and i know everybody that puts darkness on me, needs to find their own light and pushes me to find mine. But man, idk, i can't believe there are people like this. Who constantly talk and judge others, never check the mirror. I don't like labels ,but I use to question myself if I'm anti-social, autistic, weird, but I believe I'm sensitive to a point that it doesn't matter what anybody says or does, it's what i feel and if that isn't good, i can not be around you. I know someone who hurt me, but i know in my heart she didn't mean to. I guess she didn't know better. Despite that, I feel pure about her. Safe around her and I know she does with me. And then there're these people who claim to be good, acts of kindness, trynna hang w you, but then it feels off. Not pure. Not safe. Does it make sense? I know I will face more situations like this, but how do I deal with it. Do you have tips? Don't feel obligated to answer. I hope you are doing good x

heyyyy, first of all!!! congratulations on making a decision that makes you happy. you did something brave and took your future into your own hands. dont let outside noise, guilt, or fear move you from acknowledging that. there are always ways to make money, but our time here and what we do with it is finite so the quality of your experience matters.

i think you did a powerful thing trying to find how those negative experiences could teach you something or push you toward an experience of life you would rather have. as im sure you know, negative experiences are half the battle. mastering ourselves and our response to them is often the harder and more necessary task. however, knowing that can make leaving harder, cause not being able to 'rise above' and endure something tough can often feel like a failure to master yourself or those circumstances. that said, i think you did the right thing leaving a space that doesnt make you happy. as much as we can change ourselves, its not our job to change people, and at a certain point we have to believe and trust in what we feel. our feelings toward things are some of our indicators toward whether or not what we experience is aligned with us.

in terms of witchcraft. i know juju is a real thing but i dont give it much weight or credence simply because i believe like frequencies latch on to like frequencies. if its true that the universe is mental and we create our realities then those things that manifest in our lived experience have their root within us. — this is why 1) theres a deep meaning to 'no weapon formed against me shall prosper'. when you have conviction of yourself and your path, wayward energies cannot get to you or conquer you. if someone would wish you evil, but you hold no resonance toward that evil, or you have no fear/insecurity concerning their power over you, that evil cannot latch on to you and returns back to sender. — 2) (this relates to how you conduct yourself in the future), practice stilling yourself, knowing where you are going, and what your experience of where you will to go looks and feels like. then go forward. when you encounter people you disagree with, who trigger you, or who give you a similar vibe to the people you have just left, you can do one of two things. seek the aspect of you that identifies with them. (if you didn't identify or fear their ability to rub off on you, you would be able to tune them out or brush them off. soon they would cease to exist around you whether its them getting moved to another department, or you getting promoted etc) orrrr. choose to see them. understand that beyond the face they show you, they have different faces and aspects to them. who are they to their mother? their brother? their children. by seeing them in the full scope of their humanity you can remember that they are more than the aspect of them you see that aggravates you & in doing so treat them as you would treat someone you love. its a funny thing, cause that person could be an asshole to everyone else, yet the softest most generous person to you, because when we see people for who they are or even more than what they are, they usually respond in like mind.

wishing you so much luck and good fortune in your future endeavours. your effort will not betray you 💋

#ask

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rubsjuice · 2 years

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The Mayor Rant

no need to say it twice my friend

This is my unadultered rant on the character of Wayward Vagabond, The Mayor, and how he was robbed by everyone who ever had creative control over him

Okay, so let me start with a simple "Who is WV". WV, the Mayor. He was a simple farmer in Skaia, he's seen the horrific consequences of monarchy and war and he thinks he and his friends could do a better job at organizing society. He has a very black and white (pun intended) way of thinking and he often punishes himself for silly thoughts. Remember when he calls himself stupid over and over and hits himself over the head for thinking of a silly thing to do?

Over the course of homestuck, he develops a set of traits that we can very easily consider PTSD after he sees Jack Noir slaughter countless brothers-in-arms without regard for shell color, shape or alignment; he has night terrors about it, and very specifically about becoming just the same if he ever puts the ring of whatever four-fold to transform into a powerful beast to hunt down Jack Noir for it. He's afraid of becoming just the same as the people he swore to destroy, and this is so. important. for his characterization. He's a kind, gentle, and stern leader who isn't afraid of gathering troops or guerilla fighting of course, but he shies away from mindless violence and death, and he'd rather not send troops to be slaughtered like they're nothing. This is the Mayor. A man with simple roots, a dream, and overwhelming trauma.

(ngl same)

So what did Hussie do with this incredible backstory and development, a couple thousand pages down the line? When WV was stuck in the meteor with a bunch of teenagers and confused out of his fucking mind?

He turned him into davekat's little pet

Like seriously the flaunderization of WV is something no other character experiences in the entirety of the webomic, how the fuck do you go from "revolutionary democratic leader" to "two teen's bug puppy"? Dave flat out talks to and about WV as if he was a pet, or at the very least a creature with less sapience than he does

Karkat sorta has a conversation with him? But it's mostly framed as a joke, so the narrative wasn't treating him seriously anyway

That's a really big problem, because if the narrative doesn't treat him like a person, the fans don't have any incentive to do so either. I've seen more fanart that treats him like he's an irrational animal than I've seen art treating him as the real complex character that he is. I've seen humanstuck AU fanfics that write him as davekat's old golden retriever. I can tell whether an artist treats WV seriously or not by looking at how they draw him (it's always something in the eyes). Paired with the fact that a lot of his "silly behaviors" are either symptoms of mental illness or externalizations of neurodivergence, it all gives me a very sour taste in my mouth.

After all that and Collide, WV gets his happy ending, building a town and community in Earth C

Or did he?

I present to you: the credits

In which is established the existence of a, and I quote "carapacian kingdom" in Earth C

Based on my exposé you probably figured out that WV would be at the very least be reticent about naming anything in the new world a "kingdom" even if post-canon implies it's not actually a kingdom, what matters here is the presentation; as someone who believes strongly in the representative democratic system, the way things are worded would be incredibly important to WV, so why would they think that's acceptable at all for him?

The credits showing Callie and Roxy as like the leaders also boiled my blood a little bit because of how chess racist roxy is i mean really those guys raised her from infancy and she thinks they're lesser than her, never bothered to learn their language and thinks they're helpless without her bringing them pumpkins like ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS

All that just left me with the unwishful thinking that Earth C was a paradise for trolls and humans but if you weren't one or the other you were treated with indifference because you were just "a silly salamander" or "a little chess guy"

And I know that the epilogues and Homestuck 2 explicitly made the credits not canon, but they follow the same baselines and the same attitude about the aliens that we can call "game constructs", so really how non-canon could it be

I was blissfully thinking about ways to explore that when the bonus updates dropped, and in one of them there's a long block of purple prose basically outlining the authors' perfect democratic system (which kind of really sucks if you know anything about politics besides twitter buzz words but that's besides the point) and attributing that "marvelous feat of democracy" to WV as if he would ever think separating representation by race was a good idea

He's been part of a race war before! he knows how things like that start!!

And in the end they even write some bullshit about WV thinking "ooooh maybe it won't work out i'm scared of it happening oooo" because deep down they know they're full of shit and they know this is a disservice to the character but they don't care about it enough to make something decent. He might be a simple farmer but he's not incompetent

Anyway, this doesn't really matter at all anymore because of intricate twitter drama i don't have time nor energy to type out, i'm just really really passionate about this guy

This was WV, he lived, he served cunt, died twice and was grossly mischaracterized in two completely different directions by anyone who had any creative liberty over him

#mafa talks #mafa talks a lot #homestuck #wv homestuck #the mayor

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lizard-shifter-noms · 1 year

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Wayward Waters Chapter 1

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Hello everyone! finally Posting ARC 3 now!

time to have them explore more of the world!

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

have fun reading!

and as always reblogs are appreciated! (Also ASK’s are open so feel free to bother me!)

AO3 Link for those that prefer the layout there;

AO3 Wayward Waters

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Sleeping was nice, being woken up not so much.

Being woken up by Nea was even worse.

Which was proven by the fact that she barged in and then pelted one of Robin's shoes which were still on the floor right onto my shoulder.

I jolted awake and onto all fours, tensing my muscles and squishing Robin in the process who squirmed in surprise.

Clenching my muscles I immobilized him,

I could absolutely NOT let Nea or anyone else know about this.

Luckily he seemed to get it as I told Nea off for waking me like that.

“Nea! Can't you wake me like a normal person?

Or do ANYthing normally for that matter?”

She just shrugged and I could feel Robin freeze extremely still at the mention of her name.

He was well aware that Nea could and would cut me open if she thought anything amiss.

Luckily the woman didn't seem to care about the ginger's whereabouts and had more fun antagonizing me.

“Eh, i'm not normal, so i dun have ta do anythin normally,

now get yer fuzzy ass up, shoes on and get yer rust headed friend, Rikaad wanted ta talk ta both of ya!”

With those words, and the second shoe thrown in my general direction she went out the door.

Untensing to give the little human in my pouch more room I spoke.

“I need to get a lock installed, the sooner the better, Robin? She’s gone and i think she confused your shoes for mine, so we are in luck this time”

He wiggled a little, which admittedly felt a bit funny, and addressed me.

“A lock sounds good, also what did she throw at you? My shoes? It sounded like it”

I nodded before recalling he couldn't see that.

“Uh yeah right at my shoulder too, but lucky not at the injured one so im fine, but damn that crazy lady needs to calm down, or a punching bag”

“I think everyone is kind of her punching bag, what did she even want?”

“She said Rikaad wanted to see us, no idea what for though, so brace yourself i'm gonna let you out”

I could feel him turn around at my words and while he did that I snagged one of the many towels that were strewn about.

Then I worked to bring the tiny redhead out of my pouch and into the bright world again.

What time was it anyway?

With how much light came in it looked like it was around midday.

As soon as the ginger was out I tossed the towel over him which he immediately used to dry himself while I shrunk down to human height.

Being nice I slid his shoes over the floor closer to him while picking my own out of some hay.

While doing that my eyes fell on the weird Logos book that Oakley had given me and Fable, as a means to communicate despite him going around traveling the world.

I'd use it after talking to Rikaad, After all, my brother had only left like twenty four hours ago so there couldn't be that many interesting things since then.

I did wonder though what Rikaad could have summoned us for, but if we had to talk to him anyway i might as well ask about getting a lock installed.

Messily brushing my hair for all of twenty seconds i followed Robin outside of my shed only to realize i had no idea where the fuck Rikaad was.

Nea hadn't said anything about that, just that he wanted to see us, and of course the crazy Guard was nowhere in sight now.

“Where did Nea say we had to go?”

I turned to Robin not sure what to answer as I had no clue.

“Uh, i don't know, Nea just said to talk to Rikaad, and then threw the other shoe before leaving, i guess we could try the throne room? If he's not there we can just ask someone”

That seemed reasonable enough, usually larger meetings were held in the throne room or the large rooms behind it.

I still thought the architect was a drunken dumbass for building it like this but with how old the castle was they were long dead by now.

Nearing the front of the castle I could see some other people, mainly guards, walk in and out of the throne room.

Looked like we were in the right place, which was proven as we went inside.

It looked like it always did, with the exception of a big table in the middle that featured what looked to be a map of some islands.

At the head of the table was Rikaad, looking with an earnest expression at the map which I now noticed had little figurines on it.

I hoped that wasn't more trouble, but knowing our luck it probably was.

He looked up at the sound of Robin's footsteps,

how he knew it was him was beyond me though.

“There you are, is Arthur with you?”

We both shook our head in unison, which was kinda funny seeing as it was completely uncoordinated,

Rikaad looked disappointed for a moment.

“Let's wait for him, i'm not going to explain this twice”

Explain what? Did it have to do with the map?

Looking at it it was more than likely, now that I had a closer look I could see the figurines were of either Kamerasca or Maringand ships, as well as some people and houses.

The ships, arranged in a neat formation, strangely enough rang a bell in my head but I could for the life of me not recall why.

Then Arthur ran through the door, dodging what looked to be an armor piece.

I didn't even need to see her come in to know it was Nea who had hunted him like that, I wasn't exactly sure what was going on with the two of them but I for sure wanted no part of it.

“Found all of em! Now what's ta fuss about?”

She limped in, without crutches and I didn't doubt for a second that she had managed to break them and now simply ignored the medics orders about using them.

Arthur stood between me and Robin to negate any chance of having to be right next to Nea.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see he was a bit out of breath.

Nea then limped to the table and stood on my other side, looking intensely at the map like it would go up in flames any second now.

I looked at Rikaad who wasn't leaning over the map anymore.

Looking at it I saw a few letters in a haphazard pile next to it.

They were all upside down for me so I couldn't read it, but I had no doubt they were at least part of the reason we were called here.

I looked back up at Rikaad as he spoke.

“As some of you already know, we received letters from the Trader Islands about some Marigand ships causing havoc there by attacking other ships as well as the smaller settlements.

On my Question to the Queen of Maringand she replied that they had been sent by the old king, Winton, and did not believe any official writings about the change of rulership.

Since we can't just let them continue with this we will go there and set an end to the chaos personally.

You have been called here to either accompany me to the Islands or to watch over Kamerasca while i'm gone, i have made a list which you can read later-”

He pointed to the longest piece of parchment on Norrins end of the Table, the Guard pointed at it as well.

“- please read it as soon as you can as i want to solve this as quickly as possible, which means we will leave tomorrow at midday on a ship”

Chaos on the trader islands? Oh that can be good, and then they didn't even believe official statements about Amicia being in power now.

Though the fact that it was maringand ships rang a bell somehow.

After thinking about it for a moment while everyone else was busy reading the list, I remembered the fleet of ships I had seen shortly after Fable arrived.

Had winton attempted to split the army by having some of his men wreak havoc on the islands?

If so his timing skills were worse than my writing ones as this was a good two weeks too late.

Winton was an idiot with no spatial awareness so it really didn't surprise me.

Most of the people were done with the list and left to either pack whatever they needed for the Boat trip or to prepare for their new duties in the absence of the King.

So there was now enough space to read the list without bumping into anybody.

Looking it over it appeared to be sorted alphabetically but even so I couldn't find my name, nor could I find Robins who really tried to make sense of the letters despite his weird inability to read comprehensively.

So we weren't on the list, did that mean we would just stay here and do what we did the past few weeks?

If that was the case why were we even called?

Was it because Rikaad simply wanted to inform us he was leaving for a bit?

But then I realized that I hadn't seen Arthur's name either, as well as Nea’s and Norrin’s names were absent from the list.

I looked confusedly at the taller man.

He was also still standing there, since he wrote the list he didn't need to read it anyway.

After a majority of the other people left to go do their new tasks he addressed us.

“I didn't write your names on the list as most of your tasks will be a bit more elaborate.

For example only half the people still at this table will go with me on the Boat while the others stay behind to keep an eye on Kamerasca”

Ohh so he was probably leaving Norrin here, The man had been the head Guard for some time and knew what to do.

Before Rikaad could continue he was interrupted by Arthur.

“I am not setting a single foot on a ship! I get sick from a normal fucking chariot there is no way i’ll step on that hellish water vessel!”

Oh, right, Arthur's motion sickness would have him keeling over the side of the Boat for likely the entirety of the trip.

And I had seen how badly he took to a simple carriage, I didn't want to imagine how horrible a ship would be for him.

Rikaad shook his head at that.

“I'm well aware of that, which is why you'll stay here and have an eye on everything together with Norrin and Nea.

He looked relieved at being able to avoid the ship but when he was told he had to work with Nea his face soured.

He didn't say anything though and I suspected the reason why Norrin was also involved in keeping an eye out was so the other two wouldn't start fighting, all that much at least.

So that left me and Robin, I had to admit that going on a ship sounded intriguing, that was something I had never done before as I would have been killed.

I hoped I would get to go on the ship.

I had always wanted to know what the trader islands looked like, and as far as I was aware that was where most of the cinnamon came from.

Me and Robin were addressed next while Arthur and Nea left, glaring at each other all the while until Norrin stepped between them.

“As for you two, you can join me on the ship if you want, you don't have to but I would very much like some familiar and trusted faces near me”

That did sound logical, with Nea and Norrin here there wouldn't be all too many of the more familiar faces, and having someone on Board he knew he could trust would probably set him at ease a bit more.

“Also quite frankly now that nobody else is listening I really need to get away from all the paper stuff if just for a little bit, which is why I'm going personally and didn't send someone else”

Ah, so even Rikaad could have enough of trying to catch up with all that, understandable, i would have given up long ago.

“Yeah i was wondering how you were managing not to go mad with all of that”

Robin piped up from where he had stared at the map.

“Oh wait, what should I pack? Aside from clothing i mean”

Rikaad answered quickly enough.

“Whatever you want as long as you can carry it yourself, but maybe leave behind what you don't want to get wet”

Oh right, there would be water, lots of it, What if I dropped the Logos book?

“Well, i'll leave you two to sorting your own stuff till next midday, please don't oversleep, we will meet at the gate and don't forget your stuff”

So we would leave tomorrow then, which meant packing my sparse stuff into a bag and walking to the harbor with the rest of the people coming along.

I wondered how big the ship would be.

I nodded at Rikaad who was now rolling up the Map and sorting the other paper back into a more organized pile.

I was already thinking of what to take with me, aside from the normal necessities.

I debated if I should bring the Logos Book with me while Robin dragged me outside again before running off to put his stuff together while I continued to my shed.

On one hand the Logos book was my only way of communicating with Fable, on the other I didn't know if it was waterproof.

Also if I dropped it and it fell into the ocean I would never find it again.

It would probably be better to leave it here than risk somehow losing it or getting it destroyed by saltwater.

Maybe I could practice some of my writing while on the boat?

My writing currently was awful, not only spelling wise but also just plain ugly to look at.

Still, I'd better inform Fable about that so he wouldn't have to worry.

Opening the door to the shed I went right for the Logos book and retreated up to the loft as that was the only place with a proper desk.

Which meant it was the only place that had ink in my entire room that I could use.

Putting the book on the worn wood I opened the first page only to see a beautiful sketch of a Bird sitting in a tree.

The Bird itself was a Robin.

Underneath the drawing where a few words

Look, it's your friend! I saw him at Dawn after leaving.

Man, Fables handwriting was already way better than mine, and i couldn't detect any spelling mistakes.

But I had to admit the drawing was pretty, and the joke he made was a tiny bit funny.

So much for not having a sense of humor.

Well, time to answer, and inform him about not being able to reply for some time to whatever he wrote to me.

Hello Fable | im sory for my bad hanwritting

Nice to see you are doing good | love the drawing very funni.

I will not be able to repli to any of your textts ̶s̶ for som time as i will go on a ship with the others to the trade islands

Not sure how long i wil be gone but i wil write you again as soon as i get back

Im not takin the book wit me as i don't want it getting destroied

There wil be lots of water and the book is paper that dosnt mix well

Write you soon after i get bak from the boat

That should be a good enough explanation, I wasn't any good at writing though so i hoped it was at least understandable.

I set the book back on the desk and went to fetch a duffel bag so I could stuff my things into it.

Looking at the mostly empty shelves I debated if there was anything I wanted to take with me, but the only things in the shelves were just trinkets and the dirt filled cup Robin had forgotten one time.

The wood sorrels inside of it were growing like crazy though, Maybe I should get an actual flower pot.

So only clothes and other necessities then.

Maybe I could put the tiny and currently empty wooden box on one of the shelves in the bag as well?

The box could be locked with a simple slide mechanism and had been in the shed before me, digging that out of the hay had been a surprise.

If I found a nice shell or something I could put it in there so it wouldn't break.

Also a box was generally practical so I stuffed it in the bag as well.

Looking at it I realized I was already done, that was fast.

Then again I really didn't have much to my name so that should have been obvious.

Dragging the bag to the door I set it right next to the exit, tomorrow I would just have to grab it from there then I could readily leave.

Sooo, what to do now?

I still had half the day left now but nothing to do.

And I was sure that Robin would take a lot longer to pack than I did, so hanging out with him wasn't much of an option.

Out of boredom I decided to check the Logos book again.

Going back up to the loft I went to the desk and opened the book.

Surprisingly Fable had already answered, and I could see once again that he had prettier handwriting than I did,

with basically no spelling mistakes either.

Man, I wished I could spell like that.

Whatever, Fables text read;

Hello Donovan, believe it or not I have seen worse handwriting,

but I'm sure with some practice you will get better at it.

I am doing very well in fact, the forest is not as dangerous as I have been told, at least thus far.

Thank you for the compliment on my picture.

I wish you the best of luck on the trader islands,

If you can, bring me a shell?

Also not taking the book with you does make sense as I doubt it can be replaced.

Do not worry about me, I am a patient person so I promise I will not assume the worst should i not hear from you for one or two weeks now that you have notified me of this.

Tell me how it was as soon as you get back, the trader islands are a place i have not been to and i am curious as to what they are like.

I wish you calm waters and a peaceful journey.

Well, that was nice, at least I didn't have the worst handwriting in the world but I'd make sure to practice while on the boat.

And the forest not being as dangerous was a relief, maybe stuff had just been exaggerated for effect?

It was also nice that he understood my concern about taking the book on the boat and of course I'd bring him a shell!

I'd have to make sure to get a really pretty one for him!

Maybe I should write back? Or was that weird?

I ended up writing back, even if badly readable for Fable, He responded very quickly.

Talking about nothing much, basically just telling stories to each other, and before I knew it it was dark outside.

Huh, having had the back and forth with Fable had taken more time than I thought.

I wrote a quick goodnight for him and he responded curtly by telling me he was going to set up camp now and wished me a goodnight as well as a safe journey.

I went back over to the bag I had packed and looked at the items one last time to make sure I didn't forget any of my sparse belongings needed for the trip.

It looked like I had everything though so I left the bag next to the door and went into the middle of the room.

I changed into my Ardua form to sleep like that after taking the sleeping aid Oakley gave me, luckily i had tossed the rest of it in my bag already.

I doubted I could do that on the ship as there probably wouldn't be enough space so I decided to sleep like this for probably the last time this week.

Settling down I curled up like a cat, which I had actually learned from one, and yawned before using my arm as a pillow.

It wasn't that long after I fell asleep that someone knocked on the door.

I had one very good guess as to who it was.

“Its open, come in”

Just as predicted a familiar redhead appeared in the doorframe, clutching a bag to himself that looked messily packed together, no doubt his own stuff.

“I- uh, i'm kinda nervous to go on the boat, last time we went with the guard school and i fell overboard and got pinched by a crab, can i sleep here? I don't want to get nightmares about falling into the ocean”

He fell in and got pinched the last time he was on a boat? No wonder he was nervous.

“Come here, and leave your bag by the door next to mine, we can take them with us tomorrow”

He nodded and put his bag on the floor next to my own before coming over to me and climbing over my arm, settling in the groove of my elbow.

He always looked so small when he did that, especially as he sunk into the fluffy green fur there.

“Thank you, and sorry for bothering you, i'm just really nervous about going away on a boat”

He mumbled into the fur of my arm, burying his head in there.

“No problem, and you're not bothering me, i'm a tiny bit nervous myself actually, i've never been on a boat, but at least i can swim somewhat”

Swimming had been something I had to learn as people kept tossing me into rivers when I still lived on the streets.

Drowning didn't sound good to me so I had to teach myself how to swim at least a little.

Yeah that wasn't something I was about to tell people though.

“You can swim? Are you good at that? Im kinda okay at it, at least when i don't have armor on”

I did doubt swimming with armor on would be an easy task anyway.

“That good, swimming is a useful skill i think, as for myself i know how NOT to drown so that has to be good enough”

He made a soft hum before burying deeper into the warm fur.

“That's nice, how long do you think we need to spend on the boat until we get to the islands?”

How long? Huh, i didn't know that but considering it had taken a week or so for the letter to arrive id say two to three days or so.

“Uhh, I dunno, two or three days? Maybe? I'm not an expert and there are many islands on the map as well*

“three or four days? Well I guess that depends if we have good sailing weather?” “I hope we do, maybe we can take a little vacation there as well for a day and go on a beach to collect shells, i need a pretty one for Fable”

A day just to go to the beach sounded nice, sure Kamerasca did have its own beach but usually there were so many fishing boats or crabs that going into the water was a bad idea, and rivers weren't exactly all that clean sometimes.

Robin just mumbled something about sand and looking down I saw he had fallen asleep.

“Heh, goodnight then”

I lay my head down as well, basically hiding Robin from the world as my jaw covered his little form in the crook of my elbow as I fell asleep as well.

Tomorrow we'd get woken up by either Nea or Arthur, and for myself I hoped it was Arthur.

Sadly I was wrong, as the door slammed open with a bang and Nea barged in, announcing loudly that we had to get our stuff and leave in an hour.

“YO! Getup yer sleepyheads! Time ta brave tha Sea! Ye have an hour ta get yer stuff and go ta tha gate!”

Both me and Robin sprang up at her sudden and brash appearance.

Before we could retort anything she was gone again.

“I wish she wasn't so loud and sudden when she does this”

Robin could only nod to that as he climbed over my arm again and walked over to his bag, making sure the door didn't slam into it.

I stood up and shook myself like a wet dog before shifting back into a more human form.

An hour now huh? Plenty of time to walk to the gate, Luckily, I had already packed my stuff yesterday.

And Robin had packed them as well, judging by the lumpy duffel bag next to my small one.

Though knowing Robin it was probably chaos, I just hoped he hadn't forgotten anything.

Maybe asking to make sure of that would be a good idea.

“Robin? You got everything packed?”

He nodded for a second before he looked confused and opened the bag up to look inside.

Yep, as predicted, he had already forgotten what he put inside of it.

“We have an hour, how about I help you organize?”

He looked at me miserably.

“I don't know why my memory is so garbage, i can remember other things perfectly, like plant names but then i can't remember what i put in my bag the day before”

Yeah, that was kinda weird, but whatever.

“Happens I guess? Now come on put your stuff on the ground and i'll help you”

He nodded and then just sat on the ground before pouring the contents of the bag over the floor.

I could see some unfolded clothes and a pencil that had stained a shirt while it was in the bag, as well as some other things I was pretty sure weren't needed on a ship.

What a mess, and he forgot to pack pants in exchange for double the amount of shirts.

We spent the majority of the hour reorganizing his stuff and packing properly so he would have what he needed.

While I sent him to get some pants from his room I folded everything else and put the pencil stained shirt to the side.

When he came back I showed him how to most efficiently put everything in the bag.

“Thank you so much! I really don't know where my brain is sometimes!”

“Well i didn't see it in the bag so don't know where it is either”

He laughed at my very bad joke and tossed the pencil at me, I managed to catch it before it hit me though.

“What did you pack this one for anyway? Im sure you could just ask someone for a pencil"

He shrugged.

“Dunno anymore, I think I wanted to draw the fish I saw? But i'm not a good artist so i guess i can just leave it here”

I nodded and then looked outside again.

I wasn't exactly sure what time it was but we probably should head to the gate before they sent someone to get us.

“I think we should head out now, you ready?”

I stood up and grabbed my own bag as Robin followed me with his own outside the shed.

Not too far from the door was sitting a familiar feline form.

Robin immediately went up to her.

“Gloxinia! Good kitty!

Are you gonna keep an eye on the garden while we're all gone?”

The cat purred and brushed up against his legs as if telling him she would do just that.

Right, Oakley had mentioned that she had the potential to become a magical familiar, so her being smarter than the average cat wasn't a surprise.

I bent down as well to scritch her between the ears.

“If Nea starts to cause chaos and tries to murder some poor Guard try to distract her okay?”

“Mrrp!”

She bonked her head against my fingers and then slinked off in the direction of Oakley’s tower.

After that we headed to the gate as fast as we could, and as i thought half of the people were already there so we were just in time.

Looking around at the twenty something people I could see that Arthur and Amicia were here as well, probably to say goodbye or something.

Amicia was shaking Rikaads hand in what I assumed was thanks and Apologizing for the chaos her citizens made while Rowley was right behind her, half hiding from everyone else.

Should I talk to the smaller Ardua?

Probably not, I had headbutted him into a boulder on our first meeting and he made it clear he didn't want the shifter bracelet at all.

I'd respect that and leave him be.

The group split off and Amicia went to a fancy chariot a few paces away that i had failed to notice, Rowley in tow.

She looked back for a second and then ran up to Arthur to hug him.

Well hug was nicely put, from the face he made i was sure he just heard his spine crack.

While walking back to the chariot where Rowley was already inside she waved at us.

“Hey guys! Have a nice journey! Don't get sand in your teeth!”

What an odd thing to say, I just politely waved back as she clambered into the chariot and rode back to Maringand.

Looked like her stay with us was over and she was going back to rule her own Kingdom.

I really hoped that would go well.

I turned to Robin briefly.

“Hey I'm gonna go ask Arthur if he can get a lock installed on my door while we're on the boat, why don't you tell Rikaad we're here? Maybe we can go to the boat early?”

He nodded with a big smile and weaved past some Guards towards Rikaad, chanting the words ‘Boat trip, Boat trip’ over and over.

Looked like he already forgot to be nervous.

I then went up to Arthur who tried to get his back into its proper position again.

“And people wonder why i don't like women”

He muttered and then looked at me.

“Hey Arthur! How are you?

“Glad i don't have to go on that hellish vessel with you, but honestly staying behind isn't that much better when i have to work with Nea all the time, i swear she's gonna break my leg or something!”

Yeah that did sound like her.

“Well i'll make sure to not be surprised should you be in a cast when we come back”

He just rolled his eyes.

“Great, thanks, i'm just glad Norrin is also here, hes at least reasonable, whatever, i wish you guys good luck while on that thing from hell”

Yep, Arthur's motion sickness would get really bad on a boat no doubt, so it wasn't a wonder he called it a hellish thing.

“Thank you, can I ask for a favor while we're out at sea?”

“What kind favor?”

“Can you install a lock on my door? Nea already bent the hinges a little from waking me up, if you want to call banging the door open and throwing stuff at me while yelling that”

He nodded in sympathy.

“Of course, though i don't doubt she could kick a hole into the door instead, it's only wood after all, but i'll see to it don't worry”

Yeah kicking a hole into the door was something she WOULD do, so maybe telling her there was a lock now was a good idea.

“Thank you! I'm really not keen on having her throw shoes at me again, i'm just lucky she didn't realize they were Robins and not mine”

I sighed at the memory, albeit not very fondly.

Arthur made a face that made it clear he had a good idea WHY Nea didn't notice the boots were Robins, and he was right.

“Well whatever, good luck with the paper stuff, take breaks when you need them though!”

He nodded.

“I will, don't worry, I don't know how Rikaad manages to spend hours in there, I barely do one! Anyway, if you can bring me a souvenir? I doubt i'll ever manage to go there myself”

“Of course, i'll bring a nice seashell or something else i find on the beach if you want”

“Sounds good, and make sure Robin does not fall in! While he can swim he might panic and forget!”

Oh, that wasn't something I had thought about, panicking while in water was a bad thing.

“I will keep an eye on him, I promise! I'll make sure personally that he doesn't fall in!”

Just then someone called for all of us to Leave towards the Harbor of Kamerasca, and to not forget our things.

“Oh, time to go then, stay out of trouble while we're not here, yeah?”

“I'll try, but idiots appear on every corner i'll tell you!”

“Yeah you saw me as one of them at first!”

“You still are!”

I moved to hug him to shut him up, which he did even if he didn't hug back, but that was because I trapped his arms to his sides.

“Erch alright, just make sure to not swim with sharks or whatever, now scram or they'll leave you on the dock!”

I let go of him, and after saying goodbye and that I would get him the biggest shell I could find sprinted after the others toward Rikaad and Robin.

I caught up pretty quickly to them and walked next to Robin who awkwardly held his bag.

Looking closer I realized one of the straps broke.

Of course, he had stuffed heavy things inside of it and not even tried to balance the weight equally.

I offered to trade carrying the bags so he had my way lighter one with the intact straps and I would take the heavier one with the broken strap.

He asked a good three times if I was sure and after assuring him of that we traded the bags.

Rikaad had in that time absconded to the front of the fifteen something people convoy and was leading us down the slope to the main city.

The city, oh dammit, it was the middle of the day! People would see me! And the Fae ban papers were still missing! What if someone decided to be petty today and attack me?

The sun was out so it would be perfectly easy to spot my way too pointy ears! What if people started throwing rocks at me? Again.

What if they formed an angry mob? And attacked all of us?

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder and I flinched for a second before looking at who it was.

It was Oakley, and at this point I wasn't even gonna ask how he was here.

“You good Donovan? Your face looks like someone put poison ivy in your shoes”

Again with the weird comparisons.

“I- no it's fine, it's just we're gonna go through the city and the papers for the Fae ban still haven't been found, what if someone flips out?”

“So what? You're only a few paces behind the king and a personal friend no less, everyone with a brain can see you're part of the group”

He was right, if someone did decide to attack they would be really stupid, still i moved to be more in the middle of the convoy while Robin chattered Rikaads ear off.

“What are you doing here anyway? I didn't see you at the gate?”

He just tilted his head in that weirdly birdlike manner.

“Well i just wanted to see what boat you went on, assuming it's the one you'll come back with i can see it from high above and swoop down to be the first to greet you when you come back!”

“You want to jumpscare someone don't you?”

“Yes”

He was a bit extra sometimes, but it was nice he wanted to wish us a good journey.

He walked next to me on the way to the docks and asked me if the Logos book was all good and if I had already written to Fable as well as a lot of other meaningless stuff until we reached the dock.

I knew what he was doing, he was distracting me from paying attention to the city and its residents, which worked and I was thankful for it.

Thanks to this I was managing to avoid any major nervousness while walking through the streets.

We soon arrived at the harbor, where tons of big ships were anchored.

I did have to admire the handwork on them, building something so big that not only floated on water but also managed to transport goods and even people was something to be proud of in my opinion.

I wondered what the captain was like.

After arriving Oakley said he had to go back, which he did after circling all of the boats like an overgrown seagull.

I quickly found my way to Rikaad and Robin, who oversaw the last stuff for the journey being put on the Boat.

Lookin at it I saw that it was a tree mast giant sailboat with the name Victory Rose painted in stylized letters on the front.

“That's probably the biggest ship I've ever seen!

Are we really gonna go on that?”

Rikaad nodded, pointing at a few crates that were being loaded onto it with the help of a crane.

“After they are done loading up we can go on as well, you can wander the Harbor a bit but please stay close, i don't want any of you to stay behind on accident”

We both nodded at him and Robin jumped down from the big barrel he sat on.

“Okay! I wanna see the outside of the ship! It's really pretty!”

I had to agree on that, the wood used was dark and dense with the red accents and the painted railings that resemble rose stalks.

“Yeah, really good CraftsmanSHIP on that”

It took a good second for them to get the, in my opinion, really bad, joke but when they did Robin laughed heartily and Rikaad had a rare smile on his face.

Really?

The joke was bad but I wasn't complaining if it gave them a tiny bit of joy.

While Rikaad oversaw the crates and stuff with some experts, Robin and I walked the length of the ship to look at the thing we would spend at least a few days on.

I had to admit that it really was one of the biggest structures that wasn't a house or something that i had ever seen, heck i could probably fit on the deck in my Ardua form multiple times!

I wondered if the captain would mind that? Then again I was heavier as an Ardua, by a lot and I didn't wanna sink it.

It wasn't long after that when we were all called to come stand next to Rikaad so we could go on the Boat.

We rushed over to him and picked up our bags again, then we were ready to walk up the wooden plank that served as a bridge to the deck.

The thing looked stupidly steep though in my opinion so I held onto Robin who had a tendency to trip over his own feet while we walked onboard.

NEXT / PREVIOUS / OVERSIGHT

#still subject to change #sstc #lizards writing #vore story #soft vore #g/t vore #v0re #g/t story #giant/tiny #extreme cuddling #sfw vore #Ardua #Ship #Kamerasca #original story #original art #original characters #nsx vore

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indiejones · 1 year

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OF 1940'S BOLLYWOOD'S CHILDHOOD FRIENDS -TURNED- (DIRECTIONLESS & LITERALLY NAMELESS) NEW PESHAWARI KIDS ON THE BLOCK! - OF VASUDEV & RANBIR ! ... OOPS ... YUSUF KHAN & SHRISHTI NATH ! ... OOPS ... DILIP KUMAR & RAJ KAPOOR!

Did you know that the Dilip Kumar- Raj Kapoor friendship goes back not just to their childhoods growing up close by in Peshawar, but to literally several generations back, with Dilip's Dad being best friends with Raj's Grand-Dad ie Prithviraj Kapoor's father, their ancestors in fact having grown up in the same locality all life.

Infact 'tis via this friendship with Raj's grandfather, Lala Basheshwarnath, that Yusuf's father came to crystallize his dislike for the acting profession as a whole, letting no opportunity pass by in unabashedly criticizing his friend's son Prithviraj's wayward ways, in front all & sundry incl Yusuf, in a profession that he regarded of loose moral values & low prestige, this outlook also borne of his staunchly orthodox Muslim views on life, also simultaneously being heavily politically involved in Muslim politics, alongside the Ali brothers, & a big supporter of the Caliphate Raj idea itself.

So anyway, once in Bombay to try his luck (for as he narrates, "any job available whatsoever in Bombay Talkies" (the story leading to which we've already narrated in our Dilip Kumar-Ashok Kumar blog), he landed up bagging not just any, but the main lead's role, for which was also offered a certain pretty handsome salary price. But what really set his interest going, was that this sum, was much much higher than the salary being received by his good friend & only person he really knew even remotely from the movies then, Prithviraj Kapoor's son, Raj Kapoor, who he was in regular touch with, & who'd been working as an Asst Director in the same studios for some time too! Which is why, as he humorously recalls, unaware of the (perennial) hierarchy btwn Assts & Heroes, he had to get it re-confirmed from studio bosses, whether this offered sum was a monthly or yearly figure!

Next problem though, remained in informing his father of this new job placement, which he knew, would be totally & utterly against his express & strongly held beliefs! And so, afraid of his father's wrath, decided to not tell his family of his new job placement, as long as he could avoid, a very important turn of events in the story, to what was to follow next - the naming of the new hero, a routine affair in Bollywood back then!

Studio bosses came up with 2 alternative names, Dilip Kumar and Vasudev!

Dilip recalls his immediate reaction being, "Anything but Yusuf Khan pls!"

He amusingly recalls, how he too, just like the whole world, would learn of his new, & forever re-christened name, from the morning papers of a month later. And Dilip Kumar was born!

Also re-birthing his old childhood bond with Ranbir (birth name Shrishti) now re-christened Raj from their kiddy Peshawar days, a time he would fondly recall in interviews many decades later, of those nascent times of 1945-46, when both these to-be pillars were yet wannabes-

Dilip says: "Both us friends lived in constant fear of what'd happen at the studio each next day. And he (that's Raj, being an Asst Director, & incharge of more petty matters) would keep harping on small things & what all could go wrong, & I'd keep scolding him for always bringing it up & spoiling my mood."

Dilip continues- "I also had a fondness for watching good films, many many times...upto 3 theater shows a day, & that repeated for many days, if a film fascinated me enough. While Raj was not of the same view. He found the repetition confusing, moreover and thought it a waste of time. I always defended myself, by pointing to the quality of films (intl & natl) being watched by us here, & the value of our purpose. Anyway, what I imbibed from my observation, as one starting out, was the minimal amount of acting being done. I recall him saying once, "Listen,what we'll do is change it. Do it differently, this & that..", & I immediately reacted, "NO. I WILL NOT DO IT. I JUST WON'T!" "

How was History to know, while one became the grand "Showman"of Indian Cinema, the other would go on to be called the loveliest & among the Greatest Method Actors the world's ever seen!

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foxgloveprincess · 1 year

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Okay hear me out hear me out-

Pagan god au. The brothers Thor and Loki...obvious right but like hear me out because their characters are v different from the myths. Like? Being brothers and sons of Odin (ish.)

Loki, trickster god of magic, change, and winter. Thor, warrior god of thunder, storms, fertility, summer.

Reader, priestess of Thor, devoting her life to quietly serving him. Waking early in the morning to light the candles, to clear offerings after the appropriate time for the sacrificial flames. Lighting incense, preparing for festivals, offering soft guidance for wayward souls.

And of course, as a priestess, her life devoted to Thor, she is unwed and untouched.

And Loki...uh...er...fuck I'm sorry I ran out of thought but like! Imagine!!! God Loki taking his brother's priestess!!

Or!!! One of those traditions where a girl is selected as a sacrifice to a god. But they're selected years ahead of time so they get excellent treatment but know they're going to be killed.

And the reader, secretly, knowing she's been placed at Thor's feet to die, prays to Loki, who in so many ways represents disruption, change-true, chaotic freedom.

And then, when bound to the stone dias, blindfolded, she is taken-only it's Loki's hands, Loki's cock. Thor is furious, but Loki has claimed his prize, so the ,city will have to suffer.

I've been binging your god stories, can you tell? They're excellent and I have more ideas I swear. Some for Clint, one for Natasha, but I don't want to send you a book of rambling. Anyway thank you so much for writing what you did, I just wanted to share some thoughts I had!!

My full response is under a cut cause it’s kinda a long one. 😅

I have to say, my Avengers Pantheon is probably my favorite AU I’ve written. It combines so much of my love of Greek Mythology and soft darkness. It just makes me so happy inside to write it. And I’m thrilled when I see people love it just as much as I do. 😊

And I love this idea of the sacrifice to Thor stolen by Loki. It’s such a good dynamic for their characters and their relationship. It fits so well.

Right now, I’m working on something with a priestess reader, but she is not a priestess of Thor. It takes some inspiration from one of my favorite myths (Eros and Psyche). I can’t say exactly how far along it is in terms of percentages, but it’s around 3,000 words right now (I think?). And it has a lot of similar themes to what your idea has, if your squint. I’m really excited to finish it and share it.

In my AU, I do have an idea for Thor and the object of his affection. Not sure I’ll say exactly their storyline. But LOKI!!! How could I overlook Loki?!? He fits the whole pagan god archetype so well—mischievous, hedonistic, flawed. My brains gonna have to rumble around that thought………though I just had a little spark of idea, perhaps inspired by another favorite Greek myth….I shall have a think on it. 😄

As for Natasha, I kinda have a headcanon (is it a headcanon if it’s your own story?) that, especially for the first two stories, she kinda helps pluck the strings and plays matchmaker for Tony, Steve, and Bucky on their quests to claim their loves. I don’t know what kind of reader she would have, or Clint for that matter. I don’t usually write for him alone. I can write for Natasha alone, but if Clint’s involved, they’re a package deal. But I’d love to hear your thoughts on them!

Never hesitate to send me all the rambling you want. I love talking about things with people. It makes me so happy to interact with followers/readers and I’d love to know where your mind takes you with this AU. Thank you so much for making my day with this lovely message. 💜

#✨rachel replies✨#i love nonnies #the avengers pantheon

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currentshift · 2 years

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This is technically a repost but its been a while and I found no one last time, soooo.

Quicknotes

Don’t interact with me if you’re a minor. I’m an adult. I have zero interest in chatting up kids, especially in private.

I’m spiritual kin. I’m only looking for other spiritual kin. I don't care what you are, if you share a source and find me tolerable, come at me, brah. Well--okay, one exception: no kin-for-funners.

This is not a fandom post. I'm trying my best not to be indexed into fandom tags.

Since this seems to matter a lot to those on the opposite end of the spectrum (and because I have zero interest making connections of any sort with people I have to walk on eggshells around): I am proship.

I'm secure enough in my personal beliefs to question and scrutinize them. While I believe I was once these blorbos in a different, past life, (alongside general feykin (the kind that will steal your name but keep a promise to the very letter to their own detriment) and therian feline,) I also acknowledge how batshit cray-cray that sounds. I have my mental gymnastics that I'll hold up to the light when the eggheads discover more concrete evidence about the nature of our universe :P

I think about those philosophical and spiritual things for fun when I get bored (which is a lot of the time).

Lastly, I am a roleplayer. It's separate from my kin stuff, duh, collaborative writing is a hobby--but I mix the two (in that I use kin mems as the basis for my portrayals), so if you see someone out there in the wild using any of these as "headcanons," that's prolly me. It's fun to play pretend as some wayward extension of yourself as if you were still them, you know?

What to Expect

If you do decide to say hi? Nothing. Don’t come at me with expectations. While I like to fancy "me" as being a mishmash blend of who I was and who I am, I still am very much who I currently am, for better or for worse.

Kindating or whatever is an automatic no. I'm an ace and a goblin anyway.

I should also make it very clear that I am bad at keeping in touch. Unless you make it a point to throw me memes or funnies or whatever every now and then until I warm up enough to feel like I can do the same without it annoying you, we probably won't be in contact for very long, if at all.

My Kinlist Obscured By / /s To Avoid Being Indexed

Although I've not obscured the tags so it's pointless. Oh well! Ma/ /jora (as of 2023 this one may well simply be a soulbond as I first thought) The Moon incident was a display of blasphemy against the Fie/ /rce De/ /ity. His was the Moon; mine was the Sun. But, you know, bringing down the Sun would have made things a bit too quick, and that’s no fun. I viewed the Oni as a frienemy. The manga’s pre-story just feels right. I had experience with the Twili at some point. They used me/my mask to curse Ikana after some treaty or arrangement fell through, lol. This led to them getting banned banished from Termina.

Maj/ /Ora? We were troublesome forest spirits, then minor Twin Deities, that went batshit bonkers when some Goddess started encroaching and inadvertently, probably, stealing our followers(, we were often bad for their health, I guess). We were forced to become "one" when we were sealed away in that Mask by the Fierce Deity who shared a similar fate. :). We're still one in this life, I'm pretty sure. This could stand as a flimsy-whimsy explanation for why I've always felt like I should've have a twin.

Xu/ /e Ya/ /ng I had a set of blue-black glass vials that were probably not vials but that’s the only word I can think of to call them, do you think I know my glassware? They had etched-white designs near the top and were used to hold powdered herbs and poisons. Probably originated from a different country by trade. Then again, potatoes. I discovered the Mo Xua/ /nyu of my timeline stuffed his pants to make himself look bigger in certain areas, or to make himself look like he had one, at all. I don’t know which. The only clear memory I have of Xi/ /ao Xin/ /gchen is from our time in Y/ /i Ci/ /ty. Sunny day, the ruins of an old dock in the middle of a somewhat swampy forested area that had been a lake a long-ass time prior given the, you know, dock. He was laughing at something.

Ga/ /ster I distinctly remember rigging the microwave, coffee maker, and so on to explode or malfunction in order to observe how Al/ /phys and Sa/ /ns reacted to that kind of thing. If the song I listened to during one of my rare post-fix hallucinations is to be believed (and I have little else to go off of, so sure, why not) then my goal near the end and prior to erasure from my timeline was to Break Everything, Universally Speaking. I can only assume I went off the rails in my old age. Which in turn makes me think the Followers may have been a mystery science cult akin to Pythagoreanism that turned Jonestown. Or perhaps maybe not so Jonestown. Who knows. Ga/ /ster 2 I made a shitty for-fun AU of which I've been fleshing out on its roleplay-oriented blog for the sole purpose of fucknasty porn and all signs point to it from mental images that bear the same impression as any other kin mems to tarot cards to external inquiries.

Sn/ /ake Fr/ /uit I was a Chocobra that attained Cookie form via transformation magic and logic dictates that if that is possible, then so was becoming a Dragon. Lon/ /gan may or may not have annihilated my village and that may or may not have been a big reason for trying to get rid of them, and that incident may or may not have sparked the wanting to become a Dragon ordeal to begin with.

What / Who I’m Looking For

Canonmates, sourcemates, whatever. Kin twins are more than cool, too! Sometimes preferable! Let’s gush over our best boys and beloatheds like the hopeless fucks we are!

The Fi/ /erce De/ /ity, just in general, especially if you’re down for online boardgames.

If you remember those vials? If you remember confiscating those vials? Hi.

If you remember a microwave just fucking exploding in your face? Hi.

Lon/ /gan - I challenge you to a duel to the death in an online boardgame or something.

MD/ /ZS and CR/ /OB kins in particular, if you're uncomfortable with certain ships (Xu/ /eXi/ /ao and whatever the shipname for Lon/ /gan and Sn/ /ake is) it's best you stay away or say as much so I don't expose you to my fluffy as fuck fanatrocities 🤷‍♀️

Methods of Contact

We are already on tumblr. Slide into my DMs. If we’re gucci I can slide you my Discord or something - is what I would say if I were ever on Discord anymore. I'm back on Discord, but I also have instagram. And Deviantart. E-mail's a classic. Or uhh... I can slide you my texting app number, I guess? I can't take or make calls though. I mean technically I can but last time I tried it wouldn't pick up my voice, and also I have sixty free minutes and have to watch advertisements to get more and I don't wanna.

#kincall #loz kin #majora's mask kin #undertale kin #crob kin #mdzs kin #cookie run kin

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zablife · 2 years

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Safe Haven

Alfie Solomons x female reader

Summary: After Alfie sides with the Italians to take down the Shelbys, he starts a new life as a baker in a small village to hide out. When his wife puts her trust in the wrong person, their idyllic life is shattered.

Author’s Note: I combined two requests for this fic. The first request was for a fic with a gentle, soft reader who brings out another side of Alfie and he falls for her despite himself. The second request was for an angsty fic where Alfie’s partner dies and he blames himself.

Warnings: age difference, pregnancy, mentions of blood, death

“Were you disappointed no one was here for you today?” you asked Alfie as you stroked a hand over his beard. He caught your hand in his, squeezing lightly before placing a kiss along your knuckles. You wondered if it bothered him that none of his family or friends came to your wedding. You were relentlessly curious about his life before he met you although he never talked about it, seeming not to miss it.

“Not a bit, you’re my life now, treacle,” Alfie said, pulling you closer to him so he could nestle his nose in your sweet smelling hair. It didn’t matter what his life had held before he met you. The pleasure of being in this small village, married to a kind and loving farmer’s daughter was all he needed in this world. It was actually more than he ever hoped for considering his past sins in Camden Town.

He ran a hand over your naked back, making you giggle, and he thought about how much his life had changed since he met you. Alfie had tried very hard to distance himself from the wayward man of his youth. He had gotten out clean and wanted to begin again somewhere he would be known as a simple baker and not a gangster. He loved you because you had given him that chance at a fresh start.

You rolled on top of your new husband and teased him with a few kisses before pulling away to ask, “Will you get me pregnant?”

Alfie laughed at your words, but secretly hoped that you would bear his children soon. Although he was older than you, he knew there was still time to have the family he had always wanted.

“If that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give ya my best,” Alfie said raising his hips up to meet you. You giggled as you sunk down onto him. Afterward, you laid beside him beyond happy and contented, knowing your life together was just beginning.

——————————————————————————-

Alfie had come to your village one year ago to the day and you could still remember your first meeting. You were coming home from the market with a heavy basket of dry goods when the handle snapped suddenly. You rarely cursed because your mother had told you it was a filthy habit, but you couldn’t help yourself that day as you were hot and tired. “Bollocks!” You shouted as everything in your basket came crashing down to the ground.

As you stooped to pick up your shopping, a handsome, bearded man approached. “Can I help you with that, miss?” The gentleman had asked.

You hadn’t noticed how close he came to you and when you stood, you were face to face.“I think I have it now, thank you,” you replied.

“Well, let me escort you in case you need any more help,” he offered.

“No, I couldn’t ask you to go out of your way,” you responded with a blush creeping into your cheeks.

“I was going in that direction anyway, weren’t I?,” he offered kindly. You took him up on his offer and you chatted all the way back to your family’s farm. You learned that his name was Alfie Solomons and he was new in town. You instantly took a liking to him because he seemed worldly and charming. He made you laugh as well.

When he arrived at your family’s farm, your mother offered for Alfie to stay for dinner as a thank you for seeing you safely home. He agreed without hesitation, wanting to learn more about you. He watched you carefully over dinner. He was enamored by your soft laughter and easy way with those around you. You seemed wholesome and kind, nothing like the women he had known in Camden Town.

When you placed a gorgeous lemon drizzle cake in front of him for dessert he couldn’t wait to taste it. Your mother sang your praises as she explained you had made it yourself. You had always had a talent for baking, but didn’t like to receive praise as you were shy.

When Alfie tasted the cake, it was heavenly. He knew he needed someone like you working for him in his new bakery so he broached the topic carefully. “Y/n, would you be interested in a job?”he ventured. You looked to your parents for approval and they nodded. “Yes, I’d love one,” you said enthusiastically. You never imagined someone would pay you to do what you loved.

That’s how you began working for Alfie. You baked from early in the morning with him, learning all kinds of new recipes. Then you helped him at the front of the shop, taking customers orders. The days passed quickly with the hard work, but with every new day you became more enamored with your boss. You couldn’t help staring at him as he stood with his broad back to you, arm muscles flexing beneath his white shirt. You loved to watch him sit at the desk after closing and place his glasses on his nose as he scratched his scruffy beard in thought. He was too adorable for words. Alfie had never tried to touch you, let alone kiss you and it was driving you mad because you knew there was something between you that had to be explored. Alfie felt it too, but he didn’t think you would be interested in someone older.

One day after closing, you asked Alfie to help you double check the amount of money in the cash register. Ambling along slowly due to his bad leg, he stopped beside you and stared into your eyes. In that moment, you both recognized the attraction that had been forming. Without another thought in your head, you leaned forward and kissed him, holding his arms for support. To your delight, he returned your kiss with a passion you’d only read about in novels. He held your head gently as his tongue explored your mouth. You thought you would die right there.

After that day, Alfie began asking you out on dates on the day the shop was closed. He said he wanted to spend time with you outside of the bakery so he could spoil you properly. And spoil you he did. He liked to take you on picnics and outings to the book store. However, you were always worried. A thought kept creeping into you mind and it would not be dismissed. You knew from your time together that Alfie was Jewish and you weren’t. You knew he was fond of you, but you also realized he would not want someone who didn’t share his religious beliefs. For that reason, you started to pull away from him, knowing he would never marry you.

After a few weeks of thwarted dates, Alfie asked if something was wrong. He worried you were distancing yourself because you had learned about his past somehow. There were many things he had done he wasn’t proud of and he relived them every night before bed. He knew if you found out the truth about him, you would never be his.

The time Alfie spent with you in the bakery was so peaceful and happy. He realized he wanted to live that way forever. However, you were so distant, he assumed if he proposed you would say no. Until one day, you asked him outright, “Alfie, do you wish I were Jewish? I mean, I’m not and I wondered how you felt about that…” You couldn’t stand to have the question linger any longer in your mind. You needed him to tell you truthfully.

Alfie just laughed and said, “I wouldn’t care if you worshipped the devil himself, pet. You’re perfect in my eyes.” And after that the conversation about religion was done. You knew Alfie was fond of you and you began setting your sights on marrying him. In two months time, Alfie had proposed and you said yes. The wedding would take place six months later and Alfie made no secret of the fact that he wanted a family with you, when you were ready, of course.

————————————————————————-

One day as you stood in front of the ovens, you suddenly fainted. This was odd because you’d never had that reaction before. You came to with Alfie holding your head in his hands gently saying, “Fuck, pet, you frightened me.” You let out a weak laugh at his theatrics, trying to stand on your still shaky legs. “Let me help ya, dove,” Alfie said holding you up.

“I’m fine, Alfie, please don’t make a fuss. It’s a warm day, that’s all,” you said shaking free from his grasp. He still went to fetch you water despite your attempts to tell him you were fine.

When you stopped to think, however, you realized it had been six weeks since your wedding and your period was late. You didn’t want to tell Alfie though. You knew he would only worry. It hadn’t been long enough for you to see a doctor so you kept working, wondering if you were carrying his child.

Three weeks later the nausea and vomiting confirmed it. You were going to have a baby. Alfie had walked in on you one morning being sick and he had asked what was wrong. You sat back against the cool tiles and cried. That instantly sent him into a frenzy, worried that something was seriously wrong. “What is it, pet?”

He quickly realized they were happy tears when you looked up at him smiling, “I’m going to have a baby, Alf.” He picked you up from the ground and carried you bridal style into your bedroom. Placing you down on the soft bedding, he came to lie next to you. Wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb he felt a surge of protectiveness over you. He gently rubbed a hand along your stomach thinking how quickly his life had changed and how lucky he was. He never knew one person could make him feel so complete.

He was worried, however, about your duties at the bakery which could be quite taxing. You protested when he said he wanted you to remain at home during your pregnancy. Assuring him you would be fine, he had no choice but to trust you. He made sure to stay by your side, however, worried you would faint again. Although you never did and you progressed without incident, Alfie sweetly tried to make your job as easy as possible. You loved him for it, watching him work doubly hard to ensure you had time to rest. As your belly grew, you were less capable than before and you often huffed out of annoyance when you couldn’t do something.

As luck would have it, a woman called Marie appeared at the bakery one day soon after looking for work. Alfie had gone to buy supplies and you were the only one at the shop that day. You were heavily pregnant by then and knew Alfie would soon need someone else to help with the day to day operations. Although you’d only discussed it a few times, you knew Alfie wouldn’t mind the extra pair of hands.

You immediately took a liking to her as she was sweet and kind. You also felt horribly about the situation she said she was fleeing from in Birmingham. You had heard it was a rough area run by gangs and wanted to help another young woman better herself. You hired her on the spot.

When Alfie returned he was clearly upset with you for making a decision without consulting him. You would have none of that, however, reminding him that the business belonged to both of you. Not wanting to cause a fight, Alfie let you have your way. Although he was going to keep an eye on the woman. Alfie never trusted strangers.

——————————————————————————

Three weeks later, Marie sat at the office desk writing a letter. She was nearly finished when Alfie walked in to make an inquiry about the days sales. Quickly hiding her personal correspondence under a few papers, she replied she would get the ledger. The moment she was out of sight, Alfie dug around for the paper she was clearly hiding from him. He still felt paranoid around Marie for some reason. He knew it was probably just his protective instinct over you, but he had to know everything about the woman he still considered a mystery.

As his eyes flew across the page he noticed she mentioned the bakery and the fact that you were pregnant. He bellowed for Marie to return to the office. When she appeared she saw he was holding her letter. “You want to tell me why you’re writin’ about me and my wife? Who are you workin’ for?” He asked harshly, narrowing his eyes at her.

Marie stood still for a moment looking shocked. She gulped at his accusatory tone and shaking fist unsure what to say. “Right, you have three seconds to answer my questions before I lose my patience,” Alfie told her.

“Mr. Solomons, I was writing a letter home to my parents about my life here. Nothing more,” she said tearfully.

Alfie carefully studied her face for signs of a lie. He tore the letter up quickly, letting the pieces fall slowly at her feet. He shifted his weight as she cried in front of him, suddenly feeling foolish and very uncomfortable with the scene he had created. “You want to write home fine, but don’t mention my wife….and do it on your own time. Is that understood?” He said looking serious. Marie nodded slowly.

He foisted a handkerchief into her hands and walked out without another word. He knew you would be furious with him if you knew he had been so brutish. He also knew he couldn’t fire Marie now, knowing your time would soon be taken up with the baby. And there was no time to hire someone new. You had already spent enough time training her and he was happy to note that Marie’s baking was improving. He decided to keep the incident to himself.

————————————————————————

Now that you were in the last month of your pregnancy, Alfie wouldn’t let you come with him for the early morning baking. He insisted you get your rest even though you protested at the thought of languishing in the house all morning.

Today you were still snuggled in bed, one hand resting on your belly as you felt your child kick. You smiled to yourself saying, “We’ll meet you soon, little love.” When you heard a bang in the kitchen, your head jerked up and you called out, “Alfie?” You wondered if your husband had forgotten something. When you didn’t receive a reply, you hoisted yourself from the bed, one hand on your back for support. The clatter in the other room continued as you heard furniture crashing. You were terrified.

As you exited your bedroom you were met by the sight of Marie and another man you didn’t recognize ransacking your house. “Marie, what’s going on?” You asked in surprise and fear.

“I’m sorry we have to do this, y/n, but your husband has to answer for his betrayal. The Peaky Blinders ordered it,” Marie explained as she approached you slowly. You gasped at the mention of the infamous gang and tried to shake her off, but you were too slow these days. She overpowered you easily and began tying your hands behind your back. “Hurry up,” her companion said lowly.

“Marie, please you know we’re good people. You don’t have to do this,” you argued.

“Shut up!” The man yelled at you and you shook with fear. “Marie, get her to the car,” he ordered.

Before they could move you anywhere, you felt a gush of fluid run down your legs. You knew instantly your waters had broken and you looked up at Marie with a panicked look. “I….I need a midwife…please,” you begged.

Marie’s face softened and she looked to her companion. “Fuck, no, we can’t risk it. Put her in the car, now!” He said coldly.

“No, I won’t Finn! She needs help,” Marie said feeling guilty about the stress to you and the baby. Despite her role in spying on you and Alfie, she didn’t want anything to happen to you.

At Finn’s insistence, Marie stayed with you and watched you suffer through a quick, but painful labor, helping you birth a healthy baby girl. She saw a weak smile cross your face at the sight of your baby on your chest, but she knew something wasn’t right. Marie began to panic when she noticed how heavily you were bleeding. Excusing herself from the room, she warned Finn, “She’s going to die if we don’t do something.”

“I don’t care, Marie. Solomons needs to pay. Would serve him right if his wife died,” he spat.

Then a knock came at the front door, quiet at first and then more insistent. “This isn’t fucking worth it, let’s go, Marie,” he said pulling her toward a window at the back of the house. They left almost as quickly as the door opened and your neighbor Sarah arrived with her teenage son. She looked around your disheveled home, wondering what could be wrong. She found you lying in your bed, cradling a naked, crying infant and ran to you to offer her help.

“Sarah…you have to warn Alfie,” you said words almost too quiet for her to hear. Sarah bent down toward the bed and took the baby in her arms. Your eyelids felt so heavy, you needed rest, but not before you knew your husband was safe.

“Y/n, what happened?” She asked scared to know the truth.

“Marie…it was Marie…the Peaky Blinders. They tried…” your head dropped back on the pillow as you felt a dark wave crash over you. You tried to shake your head to clear your jumbled thoughts, but couldn’t move. “…tried to take me, but my waters broke….” You struggled for a breath as Sarah hushed you.

“George, you fetch Mr. Solomons quickly!” Sarah called to her son. Turning back to you she said gently, “You’ll be alright, y/n. I’m going to patch you up, love. And I’m going to take care of this little one until you feel better. I promise.” Sarah patted your hand trying to sound convincing, but knowing there wasn’t anything she could do now except comfort you. You nodded in relief before the darkness overtook you completely.

——————————————————————

“Where’s my wife?” Alfie asked in a somber tone, taking in the ransacked house and eery quiet. The scene before him unsettling him in a way he’d never experienced before. The boy pointed to the bedroom and Alfie made his way inside in a few quick strides, heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. Your frequent, playful scolding replayed in his mind, “You can’t go stomping about after the baby’s born, Alf. You’ll have to learn to be quieter, love.” With your lovely, soft voice echoing in his mind, he came to the bedroom door and cast his gaze on your lifeless body. All the color had drained from your lips and cheeks. You were far too pale, he thought. As he approached the bed, he realized you weren’t breathing.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he tried to ask what had happened, but no words came out. He pulled his long, black coat from his shoulders and wordlessly covered you, gently draping the heavy fabric up to your chin to cover the blood soaked sheets beneath your small form.

Sarah watched Alfie from the hall feeling the weight of his heartbreak. “Alfie, love, she’s gone. She don’t need that,” the woman said gently, but realized reasoning wouldn’t work as Alfie was in shock. He still wanted to protect you even though it was clear he had failed.

A shrill cry broke the silence as the baby woke in hunger. Alfie followed the sound to the bundle Sarah cradled and his eyes grew blurry with tears as he recognized the blanket swaddling the tiny infant. You had knitted it during the cold, winter months as you sat together by the fire chatting happily about names. You teased him that he didn’t like any of your suggestions. “Your stubbornness will be the death of me, Alfie Solomons,” you had joked with a giggle.

“It’s a girl. Would you like to hold her?” Sarah asked hesitantly. Despite his imposing figure, Alfie suddenly looked terribly fragile. He took a shaky breath and reached his hands out for his child. Alfie stood for several moments holding his daughter, feeling unrelenting pain and grief. “What do I do now?” He asked the child, but Sarah knew he was addressing her.

“We’ll help you, Alfie,” she offered quietly and he nodded in agreement.

“Oh, darlin’ what am I going to tell your gran?” Alfie asked the baby. “She trusted me…”—————————————————————————————-

Alfie had buried you in the family cemetery on your parents’ farm. He had no explanation to give them for his part in your death so he told them it was childbirth alone. As he tried to break the news, he seemed to lose the power of speech. The guilt he felt for bringing harm to you too overwhelming to bear. To make his situation worse, your parents had believed him which only ate at his soul more. He felt like nothing at all without you, an empty shell of a man.

The only thing that kept him alive was your daughter who he named after you. You’d slipped from his reach so quickly, he needed to feel your presence in some tangible way. As the baby grew, he tried to be a good father, but the despair had brought about an unwelcome melancholy that made it impossible for him so he left her with your parents.

Alfie returned to Camden Town, intent on forgetting the happy life he had lived with you. He began gambling and drinking to pass the time when he wasn’t working. On more than one occasion he had gotten into a fight that bloodied him to a pulp. The life was fading from him.

As Ollie patched him up once more, he advised his boss, “Mr. Solomons, my apologies, but your wife would be ashamed of you. You’re here while your daughter grows up without parents.” Alfie’s jaw clenched and his fists curled menacingly, but he held back from throwing a punch as he allowed Ollie’s words to resonate. He was right, Alfie had run away from his responsibilities and he knew he had to make things right.

When Alfie sobered up he made the journey back to your village, finding your parents’ cottage the same as the first day he walked you home. He entered as though no time had passed, his daughter toddling toward him proving she still recognized her father. He scooped her up in an embrace and wept openly at the contact. He had missed her desperately. When he pulled back, he said, “Dove, your dad is home and I’m never leavin’ you again. That’s a promise.” Then he laughed as the baby pulled on his beard with a giggle. Somehow they would navigate a life together with you watching over them.

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Tag list: @rikki-b-lake, @solomons-finest-rum, @lovemissyhoneybee, @peakyswritings, @julyzaa, @tommydoesntpayforsuits, @shelbydelrey, @alanadetigy, @wandawiccan60, @theshelbyslimited, @kittycatcait219

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons x female reader

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

The Days and Nights are Long

Pairing: clueless!Colin Shea x clueless!fem Reader

Words: ~4K

Summary: You and Colin are being idiots and it’s driving his band crazy.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, squirting), idiots in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: It took way longer than I had planned but here’s some more of our drunk, musical idiots in love for you hoes!!! I love them so, even though they’re morons. Tagging my Colin babes @starlightcrystalline and @wayward-blonde because I know they’ve been waiting for this.

I no longer do taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Colin shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably as he stared at his phone, wracking his brain to think of what exactly he should say to you.

“For fuck’s sake, Shea, just ask her to come up.” Matt looked exasperated, twirling his stick through his fingers as he rolled his eyes when Colin scowled at him.

He’d been moping for the past two weeks, ever since the two of you had slept together. All of his bandmates were getting sick of it, the man was the biggest pouty baby on the face of the planet. If they had to listen to him sing Everybody Hurts one more time they were going to kill him.

So they’d come up with a little plan to get him out of his funk, lining up a gig that would really lend itself better to a female vocalist and feigning innocence when Colin pointed that out. They had really enjoyed hanging out with you on that exceptionally hot evening, and if having you join them again was the only way to get their boy out of his funk, even better. He had actually smiled before pulling his phone out, but then he realized he had no idea what he should say.

The two of you had still been cordial whenever you ran into each other, but there was definitely a strain to your interactions now. No matter how much you both told each other it wasn’t awkward, it was definitely awkward. It was also weird that he was pretty sure you hadn’t come home after 1 AM at all in the last two weeks, and you usually at least spent your weekend nights at some other asshole’s apartment. Not that he’d had any visitors either, but he didn’t want to explore that too much.

He was still staring at his phone screen and trying to come up when some nonchalant greeting that would entice you to come sing with them when the phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand by an exasperated looking Keith, who ignored his spluttering as he typed a quick message before tossing the phone back to him.

“You’re thinking about this too hard.” The bassist said, setting to tuning his instrument and chuckling at the indignant look on Colin’s face.

Colin was about to give a snarky reply when he felt his phone buzz and looked down to see a text from you, grinning when he saw you saying you’d be right up. With an exclamation point! He didn’t even notice the pleased grins his bandmates were giving each other as they watched him start to tune his guitar, plucking a happy little tune and humming to himself.

They were all expecting you to come through the main door from the stairs, so when you shouted hello from behind them after climbing up your fire escape, you were greeted with the sight of five grown men almost jumping out of their skins before turning to greet you.

That grin on your face was enough to make Colin melt, all the awkwardness that had been lingering between you disappearing in an instant when you met each other’s eyes.

“Alright boys!” You took the mic Brad handed you with a warm smile, rolling it in one hand as you trailed the cord through your fingers. “You said you needed my help with something Col, what’s up?”

“Right, these idiots lined up a gig for us without consulting me first.” They all avoided his halfhearted glare with doe eyed innocence, focusing on their instruments. “And, well, the set list isn’t really in my range.”

“Lemme see.” You took the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. “That’s a whole lot of girl rock.”

“Yeah, like I said, Ann Wilson and I aren’t really in the same register.” Fuck, it was nice to be able to talk to you again.

“Why don’t you just modulate it, then?” You mumbled absentmindedly.

He gaped like a fish at that question. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and even if he had, he wasn’t expecting you to know about modulation.

“If we modulate for him, none of us can hit the harmonies.” Craig piped up from behind the keyboards, and he could have kissed him.

“That right?” You teased, shooting a wicked smirk around at them. “You boys sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Colin tried not to sound too hysterical when he let out a laugh, missing the indulgent eye rolls his band mates were giving behind your backs.

“What do you think, we booked a gig where I can’t sing any of the songs on purpose just so we could hang out again?” Good thing he was pretty, the man was clueless.

“No, you’re not that clever, Col.” He made a mock wounded gesture and you grinned at him, looking over the set list some more. “What kind of gig is this anyway?”

“Yeah, Craig, you never told us what the actual gig was.” Colin and the rest of the band gave the keyboardist a variety of inquisitive stares.

“Uh, it’s a bachelorette party.” He mumbled, avoiding making eye contact with his bandmates when they started groaning.

“Fuck, Craig! I do not want to get felt up by a bunch of drunk, horny women!” Colin threw a balled up sheet of music at you when you started laughing.

“That seems right up your alley, Shea.” You teased, dodging when he threw a pillow from the couch at you. “You don’t want to pick up some rowdy bridesmaid?”

“No, they’re scary aggressive.” He shuddered when he thought about the last bachelorette party they had done, they’d practically ripped the band’s clothes off before they could get out of there.

“Aww, well I’ll be there to shield you this time, sweetie.” You winked at him and moved a little closer to everyone. “Let’s practice, boys. Don’t want to give those girls cause to complain.”

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It was the day of the gig, and you and Colin had decided to drive together to streamline things. He was waiting in your living room and tapping his foot nervously as he waited for you to finish getting ready, anxious about what actually performing with you would be like.

“Y/N, we need to go!” He never thought you would be the type to take forever getting ready.

“Yeah, I know!” You strolled out to the living room with a grin on your face and he had to swallow a groan. “How do I look?”

“Good, really good.” The way he was looking at you made your grin grow even wider.

The outfit wasn’t even that special, just a denim mini skirt and a tight v-neck tee with a leather jacket. Oh, and thigh high leather boots. It was definitely the boots he was staring at, his eyes trained on the few inches of bare skin between the top of the boots and the hem of your skirt. You gave him a couple minutes to just stare at you before rolling your eyes and strolling towards your front door, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him after you.

“C’mon Shea, we don’t wanna be late.” You scolded, shoving his amp into his hand and slinging his guitar case over your shoulder before heading down the stairs.

He had trouble focusing on the road as he drove you to the bar the party was going to be at, all he wanted to do was memorize the way you looked in that outfit. It was like someone told you exactly what to wear to drive him crazy. Maybe bringing you into this gig hadn’t been the best idea, because all he wanted to do right now was pull over and let you ride him while you weren’t wearing anything except for those boots and that jacket, and maybe whatever lingerie you had on under that outfit.

“Colin, you’re going to miss the turn.” Your voice snapped him out of his little daydream, and he cursed as he took the turn towards the bar a little faster than he would have liked.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted.” He mumbled, slowing down as he turned into the alley behind the bar and put the car in park behind Matt’s van.

The rest of the band was already unloading, waving at you two as Colin shut off his vehicle and you stepped out. You actually gave Craig and Keith little side hugs before you started helping with the unloading, he hadn’t realized you guys had gotten that close over the past week, and for some reason it made him smile.

“How’s it going man?” He didn’t know how he felt about the look Matt was giving him as he helped carry the bass drum inside, it felt suggestive of something. “Y/N seems excited to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought she might be nervous about performing but she’s handling everything like a pro.” He watched you laugh at something Brad said as you worked on connecting your mic. “Maybe we should make her an official member.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Matt just shrugged, laughing when Colin rounded on him and started spluttering.

“I was joking! We can’t just ask Y/N to be in the band!” Could they? Having you around had been a lot of fun, and the band dynamic had helped alleviate some of the tension that had been growing between you two. But seeing you tonight looking like you did and knowing that you were gonna have to have some on stage chemistry to make this work was making him think twice about things. You got a little intense during rehearsals, and the added pressure of being on stage might make him combust if you kicked it up at all.

Matt shook his head at him and set to assembling his kit while the rest of the band started tuning and connecting their instruments. You just sat on a stool and sipped some water, running through a couple vocal exercises absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. It only took a couple of minutes for everyone to finish setting up and then it was mic checks all around.

Everything sounded good and balanced after a couple adjustments and the sound guys gave you the thumbs up to start warming up. Colin couldn’t stop watching you. You were so unbelievably relaxed on stage and it was just endearing you to him even more. He thought for sure you would have been a bundle of nerves but you seemed to be right in your element, tossing him a couple of lazy grins over your shoulder as you ran through a couple of songs before the partygoers started filtering in.

The band switched to doing some instrumental ambience shit while they waited for the party to really get going, and Colin wandered over to talk to you when you took a step back from your mic.

“Still feeling ok about this?” He asked, beaming back at the soft smile you gave him.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” You bounced on your toes a little, adrenaline flooding your veins as the crowd grew. “Think I’ll get any bras thrown at me?”

“You never know with bachelorettes.” He laughed, strolling back over to his own mic so he could introduce the band.

If he thought jamming with you was special, it was nothing compared to watching you perform. You were a goddamn natural, coming alive and feeding off the crowd’s energy until you were completely lost in the music. Every time his eyes met yours you were grinning at him, and your chemistry with the rest of the band was palpable.

Not to mention, you kept drifting close to him on the stage, brushing your hand over his shoulders or leaning against him when you harmonized and it was making his knees weak. , God, he could do this with you every night, even though he was pretty sure he was going to need to sneak into the bathroom to jerk off afterwards.

The show was over too soon, the extremely drunken crowd of rowdy bachelorettes finally getting crazy enough that the band was ready to make a hasty escape. You were bouncing on your toes with residual energy as you started helping the guys pack up their instruments, grabbing Colin’s amp after he shoved his guitar in the case and you both made a run for it to his car when a wobbly woman started to try to climb on the stage.

“Colin, holy fuck that was so much fun!” You managed to make it to the alley unscathed and were giving him the most heartbreaking grin. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Yeah? Well you did a great fucking job.” Goddamn it, he’d missed you. “We can do whatever you want, honey.”

“Really?” You slammed the trunk closed and started to prowl closer to him. “Whatever I want?”

“That is what I said.” He could feel his voice dropping into that low register that meant he was in desperate need of some sort of release, so he really hoped he wasn’t misreading this situation. “Why? Did you want something now?”

“I think I do.” Your chest was right against his and you could feel it heaving, gazing at him through your lashes while you ran your fingers over his abs. “I stole the keys to the van.”

“And, you wanna go on a joy ride?” He breathed deep when you brushed your lips over his, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Or, we could just fuck in the back while the rest of the guys search for these.” You pulled back a little and jingled the keys in his face, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he ran his hands over your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smashed his lips to yours and let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your ass while the two of you stumbled towards the side door of the van.

You fumbled with the keys for a minute because you didn’t want to take your mouth off Colin for any reason, but then you were sliding the door open and the two of you were falling inside in a tangle of limbs before somehow managing to kick the door closed behind you. Trying to undress each other was a little difficult with how wrapped up you were in each other but you managed, tossing your garments away haphazardly as your tongues curled tangled together. Colin grabbed your hands when you went to remove your boots, pulling them up to his face and kissing your palms before winding your arms around his neck.

“Keep those on.” His voice was a low growl and fuck, you forgot how sexy he was.

“Well, cannot say I’m surprised you're a little kinky, Col.” You wound your fingers through his hair and yanked, purring at the groan he gave you. “I’m gonna suck that pretty dick of yours, but then I’ll give it to you nice and rough.”

“God, baby.” He wished he didn’t sound so whiny when you started kissing your way down his chest, but he hadn’t gotten any release except from his hand for the past two weeks and he really needed you to keep doing what you were doing. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“Yeah? Knew you were a good boy.” You winked at him when you started kissing the skin above the band of his boxer briefs before you were yanking them down his thighs and immediately licking a heavy stripe up the underside of his cock when it sprung up against his abs.

Colin had to brace a hand against the side of the van when you worked him over, spitting on his tip and watching it drip down his length before spreading it over him with your lips. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave him a nice, smooth stroke as you ducked down between his length to press gentle kisses over his balls while you jerked him off. He almost choked on his tongue when you wrapped your lips around his sack and tugged softly, the hum you let out sending a vibration up his spine while your thumb swiped over his swollen tip.

The sounds he was making from just a handjob were enough to soak through the thin lace of your panties, and when he shouted your name when you moved a little lower and teased your tongue over his asshole, well you almost fucking came just from that. You couldn’t believe you had stupidly waited two fucking weeks before indulging in this man again, you finally felt like yourself again. It was driving you absolutely crazy, the way his hips were wriggling underneath you spurring you on until you couldn’t take it any more.

If he thought your hand was incredible, it was nothing compared to the feel of your lips wrapped around his tip while your tongue swirled around his sensitive head. With all the women he’d slept with, he’d definitely suffered through some mediocre and downright disappointing blow jobs. But you felt like you were about to suck the soul out of him, and you’d only just started.

“Ah, Christ.” He was going to pass out if you kept going like this, your mouth was like fucking heaven. “Honey, fuck.”

You shot him a wicked look when you started bobbing your head, taking him just a little deeper each time while your tongue curled around him as much as possible. Then you opened your throat and swallowed him whole and he lost his mind.

He wrapped his hand in your hair and held your head still as he started fucking your throat, his hips bucking wildly while you choked and sputtered around him. Drool was running down your chin and soaking his thighs as you started breathing through your nose, digging your fingers into his thighs while he used you like a fuck toy. You kept your tongue pressed flat against your bottom teeth to avoid choking on it, moaning softly when you tasted the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue. His grip on your hair was growing painful, and you could tell by the way his abs were twitching that he was close.

“Wait, ah shit!” He somehow managed to gather enough self control to pull out of your mouth, groaning at the long string of saliva that kept you connected even as you bit at your swollen lips. “I’m not coming unless it’s in that pretty pussy. How do you want it?”

“Fuck me from behind, Col.”

He growled as he sat up and smashed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue before flipping your over and burying his face in your hair. You let out a low moan when he slammed into you with no warning, gasping at the punishing pace he was setting and purring when he started mouthing at your neck.

The van was shaking like some sort of cliche while Colin fucked into you with abandon, his hips bouncing off your ass in an obscene display while the two of you whined and panted together. Colin was going to lose his fucking mind, two weeks with barely even talking to you and now he was finally inside you it was all he could do to not go completely feral.

“Oh god, honey.” He was practically whining against your skin when you clenched around him, sucking your ear lobe between his lips while you arched your back and purred for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Pussy so fucking good. Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you come.”

“So close, Colin, shit!” You gasped when he hit you deep, curling your body backwards around him and reaching over your shoulder to wind your fingers through his hair and press his lips to yours. “Need that dick so bad. Feel so good when you’re inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He wound one hand around your neck and the other arm around your waist, holding you close while he kissed you deeply and swallowed your wanton mewls with a deep groan. “Come for me.”

His hips ground against you and you slapped the floor of the van when you came, sobbing into his mouth and vibrating underneath him while your pussy strangled his cock. Your teeth nipped at his lips once you were finished, humming happily as he continued fucking you through your high.

“Need more, Colin.” You whimpered when he started slowing down, trying to thrust your hips back towards him as you tried to bring yourself to the edge again. “Harder, I need it.”

“Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth, squeezing your neck gently and groaning at your soft whimper as you clenched around him. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond when he started pounding into you furiously, the way his cock was punching against your soft walls making it a little hard to breathe, never mind thinking. He was hitting every spot you needed him to with each thrust, grunting into your ear each time his hips slammed into you until he felt your breath hitch.

Every time he bottomed out you thought you were going to pass out, the tip of his cock punching against your cervix and making you see stars. It was so good, he was hitting you so deep and smooth you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Colin growled when a particularly vicious push had your entire body rising off the floor of the van, your fluttering sigh sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. One more thrust and you lost it, screaming with ecstasy as every muscle in your body vibrated and you squirted all over Colin’s thighs and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, baby.” Colin was desperate, his rhythm completely gone as he chased his own end while you fluttered around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy up until I’m leaking outta you for the next week.”

“Oh god, please.” Your eyes rolled up in your head while you let him use you, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily as you pushed your hips back to meet his. “Give it to me, Colin.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a strangled cry when his hips stuttered, thick, warm ropes of white shooting against your soft walls until he was collapsing on top of you with a sated moan. You tangled your fingers with his above your head as your breathing regulated, his breath hot on your neck while the two of you melted into each other.

“We’re not waiting two weeks again, right?” Colin’s arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled into your hair, his lips spreading in a slow smile when he felt you purr contentedly.

“Nope. I’m definitely gonna need this to happen on the regular.” You turned a little so you could rub your nose against his. “You know, in between our other, normal escapades.”

“Right.” His heart fell a little at that, but maybe just interspersing his trysts with you with his other one night stands would help flush his crush on you out of his system.

Before he had a chance to say anything else there was a sudden pounding at the van door, snapping the two of you out of your haze with a pair of exasperated groans.

“Shea!!!” You untangled yourselves as you started to pull on your clothes. “That had better be Y/N in there! If you sad fucked some bachelorette and we have to listen to you sing stupid breakup songs for the next month I’m going to kill you!”

#natalie writes #colin shea smut #colin shea x y/n #colin shea x you #colin shea x fem!reader #colin shea x reader #colin shea #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #eighteen plus #eighteen and over #do not interact if you are a minor

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redrobin-detective · 4 years

Text

handknit sweater, never worn

How did Valerie end up in these kinds of situations? Of course there had to be a large scale ghost attack at her school. Val had gotten rid of most of the ghosts, weak mindless things when part of the auditorium collapsed, trapping her inside. Normally she’d blast her way out but the old building was creaking ominously from who know how many fights. Her rockets might collapse the whole south side of the school, meaning she was stuck here while the Fentons cleaned up the rest of the small fry. And to make matters worse, Danny’s dad had had the brilliant idea to put up a portable ghost shield around parts of the school to contain the ghosts. Meaning Phantom and the spooky vampire ghost were stuck with her too.

“Ugh this sucks,” Phantom whined, leaning petulantly against the ghost shield. His arms were crossed and his eyes lidded with annoyance, he almost could have passed for a normal, annoyed high schooler if you ignored his unnatural glow. “They really increased the power on these shields, I hope they’re okay out there by themselves. I think most of the students were evacuated already.” He glanced subtlety over at her which only increased her irritation. It was so aggravating he knew everything about her while she knew nothing about him.

“Madeline’s handiwork no doubt,” The vampire guy, Plasmius, commented flippantly. “I don’t believe Jack could assemble a sandwich without her assistance.” Phantom bristled a bit at the comment but just turned to glare at empty air. While she’d once mistaken them for friends, it was clear there was serious bad blood between Plasmius and Phantom.

“What are you even doing here, Plasmius?” Phantom hissed, crossing his arms closer to his chest in aggravation. “I’ve told you a million times to stay out of Amity.”

“Or you’ll do what, dear boy?” Plasmius grinned, flashing his fangs, like Phantom had told a particularly funny joke. Val privately considered the ghost boy to be one of the strongest ghosts she’d ever fought so if this guy was treating him like an annoying fly... Valerie kept her weapons up just in case but otherwise stayed away from the two volatile ghosts. She could take them down if she had to but there might be collateral. Right, that’s what she was going to go with.

“Actually,” Plasmius said, his cruel red eyes twinkling with smug glee. “I popped into town to check in on some of my old college friends. See what they’d been up to while I’d been busy with my various projects.”

Phantom kept his casual posture but went rigid, he did a quick glance over at her before moving back over to the ghost. “Now? You’re doing this now?”

“It’s always a good time to hurt you and besides,” another throaty chuckle, “I thought Ms. Grey might be interested.” Ok, was there any ghost that didn’t know her identity?

“Anyway, the wife was out but I found my fat, stupid old friend,” another twitch from Phantom, “back at his old favorite past time of knitting. It looked like he was making a sweater.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Phantom hissed, his form looking more and more defensive by the minute. Valerie had no idea what they were talking about but it clearly was upsetting the Ghost Kid. Usually she’d be pleased but it was kind of uncomfortable to watch.

“Hmm,” the vampire ghost hummed, still radiating cruel satisfaction. “I’m sure you’ve seen it too considering how often you’re in that house. He was working so hard on it, so furiously. No doubt trying to get it done in time for Christmas. A beautiful, handmade sweater for his wayward son who’s never going to get the chance to wear it.”

Oh shit, Plasmius was talking about Phantom’s dad. She’d assumed the beef between them started once they’d become ghosts but clearly there was history that extended to when they’d both been alive. Imagining Phantom alive, with parents... it was too weird.

“Shut up, I’m going to wear the sweater,” Phantom muttered weakly, curling in on himself. He’d scooted as far away from Plasmius as he could get.

“Oh but he’s not making it for you, Danny Phantom,” Plasmius lilted with a smirk causing Phantom to wince. “He’s making it for his normal, human son who he doesn’t even have the brains to realize doesn’t exist anymore. Would he bother to spend so much time and energy on a sweater that could only be worn by a ghost? To see proof of his own failure as a father?”

“Hey, it was my fault,” Phantom defended, finally snapping out of his sad and guilty funk. He balled his fists and glared at Plasmius with all he had. “I don’t blame them for what happened, I love them and they love me and nothing you say will ever change that!”

“Then why don’t you tell them, Daniel,” Plasmius asked with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re so confident in their love, then tell them. Tell them the sweater is pointless because you thrive in the cold. Tell them that their mistakes and negligence led to you becoming an unnatural abomination not fit to exist in either world.”

“Only-” Phantom’s voice caught and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Only if you tell them first. You may have been their friend at one point a long time ago but all you’ve done since then is hurt people, hurt me. For all their flaws, I don’t think they’ll ever forgive you for that.”

“Touché, son,” Plasmius scoffed. “Now then, I’m afraid our discussion will have to continue another time. I believe the power on the ghosts shield should be fading right about...” a low whine and the green wall surrounding them disappeared. “Ta ta for now you petulant child. Ms. Grey, a pleasure as always. Be careful with this one, he’s an experienced cheat and a liar.” With those parting words, Plasmius disappeared in a swirl of pink.

Valerie thought Phantom would leave too but instead he let out a long breath and ran his gloved fingers through his hair. After a moment he straightened himself up and looked as cool and confident as he ever did.

“The Fentons have probably rounded up the rest of the ghost but we might as well check, you check by the cafeteria and I’ll go through the classrooms.”

“Why?” Valerie found herself asking, not sure what she meant. Why did Phantom die? Why was he so afraid to let his apparently still living parents know what happened? Why did he try so hard to help people when everyone, including her, was so against him?

“It’s the right thing I guess,” Phantom shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “My uh my parents raised me that way and if it lost that after everything, well, then the person I was before really will be gone.” He floated over to her, gently phasing them both through the wreckage connecting them to the rest of the school and, for a second Valerie saw a scared, human kid in over his head. Then the illusion was gone and it was just Phantom, annoying as always.

“Check the classrooms and if there’s no ghosts then I’m gunning for you,” Val said instead, activating her hoverboard and speeding off before he could answer. She readied her weapons and didn’t think of childless parents living in ignorance of what they’d lost or lonely sons who were too afraid to ask if their parents would love them even as a monster.

She just wanted to get the ghost scum out of her school and move on with her life. But still, she couldn’t help but think that, come Christmas time, she’d find Phantom in a handknit sweater intended to ward off a chill he could not longer feel.

#danny phantom #this was last nights 10pm walk daydream #the situation itself is a little contrived #but just the idea of vlad dan and val being trapped #and plasmius being a total prick and talking about Phantom's 'death' in front of Val #neither him or danny ever quite lie but its not quite true either #jack seems like the type to handknit sweaters #just..... the idea of him making a sweater for danny who doesn't need protection from the cold #made me sad #p l u s Val thinking that Phantom is ghosting (haha) his parents and avoiding confronting his death #if I were to do a sequel (not) it would be about Val trying to offer an intervention to get Phantom to confess so he could move on #someone help me I can't stop writing dp ficlets

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lord-explosion-baku · 3 years

Text

Trident Tale part 2

Mermaid!Shinsou x reader x Kirishima x reader

Warnings: adult themes (minors DNI)

Author’s note: sorry to those of you who have asked me to put on the tag list! I don’t do tag lists! But if you don’t want to lose this story, you can always bookmark it on AO3.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Original image by @maewoahoah

Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

The thing about being hungry is that you can sometimes convince yourself that you’re full. You can sip water, swallow your breath, pop a few mints in—hell, you could even pretend to eat. However, even if you might trick your brain, your stomach will still be empty.

By the time you finally get some real goddamn food in your stomach, it will be aching from being teased.

It feels like this is exactly what Hitoshi Shinsou has done to you. Teased you. He’d mentioned being one of Ryūjin, which you can only assume is something religious or magic. You know he’s a fish, and that he makes people’s skin glow when he touches them, and apparently his lips or his saliva can heal wounds. But he’s not yet given you any real goddamn food.

The jerk has been swimming circles around the pool, commenting on how disgusting it is being stuck with all the trash, and complaining about your poor hospitality, but has not yet told you what the hell he’s doing here.

It’s not like you ever asked for some creature to crash into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool. Maybe some people would be ecstatic over finding an actual merperson, but life isn’t all about singing songs and talking to seagulls. He’s definitely not an Ariel, unless he is in fact looking for a prince. With all his sass, you think he’s much more of an Ursula than a Disney princess. If he is a sea-witch, he refuses to tell you.

It won’t matter much by the time Denki gets here anyways. You had been honest when you said you wouldn’t put it against him to call some news station when he sees Hitoshi. You figure that after some science lab’s helicopters carried your intruder away to run tests on him, the fish-man will be out of your hair and a thing of the past.

Despite the cynicism crawling through your head, the thought actually makes a guilty pit form in the bottom of your stomach. A life is a life, afterall.

“At least tell me why you tried to…to…” Your mouth flattens when you recall Hitoshi leaning into you, his lips a whisper away from yours.

“To?” Hitoshi asks while he observes the wayward bra that blew into the pool with notable repulsion.

“To kiss me!” You bark out, ears warm.

“Oh, that?” He purses his lips, spinning the bra around in the water. Then, he’s contemplative for a moment, as if he’s thinking of an excuse that won’t make you angry. Or will. He seems to get a kick out of frustrating you.

“I suppose I should’ve considered that it’s not a social norm for humans to greet other humans with their lips,” he says with a cocky, probably lying smirk. “My bad.”

“You expect me to believe that mermaids kiss each other to say hello?”

“Not a mermaid.” The fish is all teeth as he regards you. “I’m one of Ryūjin. And I’d like to think that you’d believe anything I tell you, since you seem to know nothing about my people.”

“Because you won’t tell me anything about your people,” you mutter right before the house bell rings. Your heart jumps with a spike of panic. You haven’t thought about what you’re going to say to Denki yet. You begin thinking about science labs again, and that knot in your stomach tightens.

“Okay,” you say in a warning tone, “I’m gonna let Denki in now…”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s gonna see you…”

“That’s the plan.” Hitoshi lifts a brow. “You’re not worried for me, are you?”

“I just think you should be more worried about yourself,” you say. “Humans aren’t…” There’s a pensive pause when you try to search for the right word. “Humans aren’t good.”

“Would you say that you’re a good human?” He asks.

What a question. You’d like to believe that you are, but you can’t kid yourself. Never one to be very self-sacrificing, you utter your next words with confidence. “Nope.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything malicious towards me. Nothing, besides that half-assed attempt to kick me away from you, anyways.”

Rolling your eyes to keep your couldn’t-care-less facade up, you left the smirking merman to wade around in the murky pool. There’s not another second to think about what you could possibly say to Denki about your surprise guest, because when you enter the house, you see his face peeking through the side window next to the front door. You could see a drink holder and a Tiki Burger bag in his hand. His smile is bright, while yours is grim.

He pouts, seeing through forced body language, and proceeds to make a funny face. You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. You might not be a good person, but Denki is. He’s an idiot, but you don’t think he’d ever do anything to harm another creature, mythical or not. This could even be fun to him. Exciting. Something extraordinary happened, and you’d been too scared to react to it appropriately, but Denki would be different.

Your changing emotions grow palpable when you finally reach for the handle.

“Heard you had some thingies that needed twisting,” Denki says as you open the door. He’s wearing his company’s shirt, a brown thing with the PoolPros logo on it, though it’s cut raggedly short to show off his midriff. He’s been particularly confident ever since he’d gotten his navel pierced, and happily showed off the topaz stone that Kirishima had given him. It hangs right above his buckle. It forces onlookers to look at his abs…or maybe his groin. He says it’s lucky, and you haven’t argued with him about it. You would probably call something Kirishima gave you lucky too.

In a flash, you’re grabbing him by his shirt collar and guiding him in and against one of the hall mirrors.

“Something’s happened.” The words immediately spill out, even while you still do not know what you’re going to say. You hope that if the right things tumble out of your mouth, Denki will get the picture.

“Uh…” Denki’s cheeks are red hot, reacting to your close proximity. “Was it a spike in your libido?”

God.

“No, shut up!” You smack his chest and glance down the hall towards the back door. The pool isn’t in your line of vision, but just knowing what lurks there gets your blood pumping. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to keep an open mind.”

He bobs his brows. “For you? Always.”

After an exhale, you gather your composure, and tell Denki everything with as much eloquence as you can muster.

“There’s something living in the pool!” You bark out, erratic. “It’s big and it has zero impulse control and it’s rude! It talks! When it touches me, my skin glows. Then it tried to kiss me, Kaminari! And it’s rude!” You add that in again, because you cannot stress it enough. Hitoshi Shinsou is as unrefined as a piece of driftwood, and he had the audacity to make comments on behalf of your decorum. “It won’t tell me what it’s doing here, either. I offered to get it back into the ocean, but it said it wanted something else, but it won’t tell me what, and I don’t know what to do!”

Denki blinks rapidly, like his eyelashes are repelling every word you toss at him. There’s a beat, he swallows, then his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

“Alright,” he says, “I see you.”

“You do?” Maybe you had to give Denki a little more credit. That hadn’t been your best description of a nightmare scenario.

“Sure do, little lady. This is some kinda belated birthday prank, huh? Thought you could slide one past me when I was least expecting it! I was thinking that maybe you just forgot about it, but now you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t ya! Well cutie, I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid!”

Striding into the house, Denki places the shakes and burger bag onto Shuzenji’s kitchen counter. Shoulders deflating, you follow him while he fishes a few fries out of the bag. If he doesn’t get it now, he will soon enough.

“What could it be?” He ponders, tossing a fry into his mouth. He nods towards one of the cups and mumbles about a shake for you, then towards the back door. “Couldn’t be a party—it’s too early for a party. And you don’t talk to many people…”

Ignoring the slight burn, you front Denki, and extend your hand out to his. His eyes widen for a moment, he wipes his hand on his pants, and takes yours.

“I need your help, Denki. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” he says, a touch more reformative. “Okay.”

What should’ve been some grand reveal, however, turned out to be anything but.

The pool being clean is the first thing you notice, as absurd as that is. It’s now half-filled, with only sprinkles of algae leftover by some miraculous clean-up. There’s no more silver fish swimming around, and all the trash that had previously taken sanctuary in the pool now lays on a mountainous pile with the bra sitting at its peak. Your guest is no longer in the pool—the very clean pool.

Denki chuckles and says, “well, this doesn’t look bad at all. By how hysterical you were on the phone, I was expecting something much worse. Oh! Hello!”

Your jaw drops as Denki waves at Hitoshi—a very comfortable-looking Hitoshi who lounges on one of the reclining pool chairs, head turned back like he’s sun bathing, one leg crossed over the goddamn other. Legs. Attached to feet—feet that definitely were not there when you’d met him.

Tricky, magic fish-man.

“Oh,” Hitoshi says, carefully considering Denki. “We have company?”

The ‘we’ in his statement doesn’t sit right with you anymore than his appearance does. He stands, and both you and Denki gasp when you see his new outfit in its entirety. It’s all royal blue, fine silks, and sheer fabric that only covers the places that would make Denki blush. Puffy, yet flowing sleeves connect to his now two golden cuffs. A heavy gold necklace hangs around him, and he’s got a light sash thrown around mostly his bare chest. A golden, v-shaped belt holds his deep blue harem pants up.

They are the gaudiest goddamn pajamas you’ve ever seen.

Hitoshi moves like water to face Denki, then firmly grasps him by the forearm, yanking the boy forward so that their lips are mere inches away from each other. Noting that there’s no glowing from their contact, you watch as Hitoshi’s indigo eyes slide from Denki’s lips, to you, and shows off a dubious glint.

“Whoops,” Hitoshi murmurs basically into Denki’s mouth. “I almost forgot that you don’t greet people like this here.” He takes a step away and smirks. “Forgive me. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. You must be the pool guy.”

“Um, yeah. ‘M Denki Kaminari.” Denki laughs nervously. His cheeks burn red, and he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Grabbing onto your hand tightly, he starts back towards the house, towing you along, saying, “excuse us, we just have to—uh. Talk.”

In a tick, you’re whisked right back inside, in the land of private conversations.

“It didn’t look like that before, Denki. I swear to god.” You’re insisting as soon as the door is closed.

“It?!” Denki balks, his cheeks turning even more red. “Do you mean the pool or that hunk of a man hanging around your backyard?!”

“Both, I guess, but I wouldn’t call it a man! It had a giant purple tail before you showed up!!”

“That’s very rude, y’know.” Denki peers back at Hitoshi who’s lackadaisically cleaning his fingertips. “What are their pronouns?”

You imagine Hitoshi surrounded by others like him, all either screaming or clicking to communicate with each other in an inhuman language. “I don’t think pronouns matter wherever it’s from!”

“Hmm.” Denki slides the door open and pops his head out. “‘Scuse me, Hitoshi, what are your pronouns?”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi answers him. “As in titles? You can call me Shinsou, but if you’re so inclined, I’ll allow you to call me lord.”

“Lord, of course.” More nervous laughter as Denki closes the door. “Lord. That’s a kink thing, right? It’s gotta be!”

“It’s not!” You bark, but Denki doesn’t hear you. Instead, he rushes towards one of the hall mirrors and begins fussing over his hair.

“I honestly can’t believe you did this. I mean, you, of all people. You’re braver than I gave you credit for. Coulda given me a heads up, though. I would’ve worn somethin’ nice. Or not come at all. I do feel like I’m intruding.” Denki’s eyes light up. “Unless this is for my birthday and you’re…you want me to join you?”

“You’ve lost me.” You're too busy trying to figure out what you can do to convince Denki that Hitoshi is a mermaid. You’ve considered pushing him back into the pool, but you don’t know if that would change him back to his sea-man state, or just make you look like a jackass.

“This is so weird. I haven’t seen that guy on the island before, and believe me, I know everybody. It must’ve cost a pretty penny to get him here. On top of everything else-“ He clears his throat- “how much is this costing you? Does Shuzenji know what you get up to while she’s away?”

It hits you like a freight train. “Oh, Kaminari…No…”

“The jig is up!” Denki stomps his foot defiantly and points towards the door. “You’re paying that man for sex!”

“God no!” The very idea that you’ve paid Hitoshi to be here, to touch you, flusters the hell out of you. If anything, you’d pay for him to leave. “You’d honestly think I’d hire a prostitute?!”

“Escort is the term they are using nowadays, and no, I wouldn’t think you’d hire an escort until now!” Denki scoffs, then moves his hand through his hair, exasperated. “The thing is, babe, you don’t need to. You’re cute and fun! If you got out every once in a while…”

“Fish!” You yell, cutting him off, because you’re not about to have another conversation about your hermit lifestyle. “He’s a fish, Denki! I didn’t fuck a fish! Nor am I planning to!”

Denki blinks at you. Not like before—not like he’s reflecting your words. This blink is more like a blink one would offer someone who’d been having an otherwise normal conversation, until they started talking about the earth being flat, or homosexuals burning in a lake of fire.

I’m not crazy, you think and will Denki to believe. I’ll prove it.

Before you can give Denki a play-by-play of what happened—properly this time, and not just your rambled recall—the door slides open, and Hitoshi steps in.

“May I enter?” The regal-looking man asks.

At the exact same moment you say, “no,” Denki says, “of course.”

“I was just hoping to find something to eat.” Hitoshi stops in the kitchen, arms crossed and expectant.

“You haven’t fed your hooker?” Denki whispers and it blows your mind that he can say hooker and you can’t say prostitute. “You can have half my burger!”

“Burger,” Hitoshi repeats the unfamiliar word, and looks around, probably wondering what it could be. Denki takes the hint and proceeds to fish his meal out of the bag. Overly familiar with Shuzenji’s kitchen, he finds a knife to cut the sandwich in two, then hands one half to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi frowns.

“I’m sorry, are you a vegetarian?” Denki asks, and you can tell he’s being overly hospitable in a house that is not his. When Hitoshi doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t stop frowning, Denki asks, “do you not eat meat?”

“This is meat?” Asks Hitoshi, shaking the burger in the air. Some mayonnaise-covered lettuce falls to the kitchen floor.

“I have to clean that!” You yip and wet a paper towel. When you’re on your knees, Hitoshi gives you a smirk of indifference.

“What, do you not have hamburgers where you’re from?” Denki asks, and when Hitoshi refuses to answer him again, he says, “the meat is the patty. It’s beef.”

“Beef.” Hitoshi begins dissecting the thing, throwing the bun halves, pickles, tomato, and lettuce all on the floor. You continue to curse at him while he sniffs at the patty. “What animal is this?”

“Beef is cow, dude.” Denki sounds more skeptical now, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t already on your hands and knees, scrubbing ketchup out of the tile. “Man, throwing food on the floor is rude no matter where you’re from. Babe, you shouldn’t have to clean that up.”

“If I don’t, who will?” You ask, sardonic.

“There’s not really a floor where I’m from,” Hitoshi says once he swallows his first bite. He places the patty back onto the burger wrap, and steps away from his mess. “At least, there’s no floor when it’s meal time. We just let shells and bones float around until they go down to where they’ll eventually break down and decay.”

Denki asks, “where did you say you were from?”

“He’s a fish, Denki.”

“I didn’t.” Hitoshi gets down on his knees with a wetted paper towel of his own. He swipes at the places you’ve missed, then looks at you. “Tell me, would a not-good person clean up a mess that isn't their own?”

“It’s kind of my job,” you retort and stand so Hitoshi can finish cleaning. Instead, he stands with you.

“And what is his job?” Hitoshi nods towards Denki who looks more and more fretful by the second. “I assume he’s here to provide services. If you’re paying him, shouldn’t he be the one to clean for you? Prepare meals for you? Bend to your whims?”

Denki says, “I’ve got a couple jobs, but I’m not a housekeeper, no.”

“No?” Hitoshi gives out a terse laugh and hands the towel off to Denki. “Clean.”

Denki looks to you for an explanation. You’re about to chew Hitoshi out, when he again says, “clean,” but this time, there’s something attached to his voice. Something that is nothing, but also more. It sends goosebumps up your arms and compels Denki to fall to the floor and obey the command.

“Yes, my lord.” When Denki finishes cleaning and throws the rest of the mess in the bin, he looks at Hitoshi, eyes glossy, waiting.

“Fetch me some water,” says Hitoshi, and after another yes, my lord, Denki begins searching for a glass.

“Quit it!” You shout and very nearly grab on to Hitoshi’s arm, stopping only when you remember the glow and the prickles that accompany his touch. Decidedly, you hurry after Denki and grab the glass from his hands and snap your fingers in front of his face.

Denki blinks, and this time it’s not because he doesn’t hear you, and it’s not because you’re spouting crazy nonsense. He blinks, and it’s a revelation.

“Hypnosis!” Denki says the word like eureka! and you want to shake him, because he should be angrier than he seems.

“I’m surprised you understand or even remember that much,” Hitoshi drawls. “You’re more in-tune than you’d like people to believe.”

And I’m Mother Teresa, you think bitterly. The fish is contemptuous as hell, but he doesn’t read people well. To him, you’re good and apparently Denki’s a genius.

“How did you do that?” Denki asks with growing excitement. “When I was a kid, I was really into magic, but could never get any of the tricks right. You didn’t use any triggering noises or images or anything.”

“There is a bit of magic about you,” Hitoshi says like he’s thinking out loud. “Not enough to pull something like what I just did off unless you have the proper tide jewel. But you do have enough power to utilize a tide jewel.”

“Don’t do that again,” you warn, and pour water from the sink into the glass. There’s purified water in the fridge, but Hitoshi hasn’t earned it. “To Kaminari or to me. The difference between a house guest and a home-invader is who does and does not use hypnosis on other guests.”

“I wasn’t aware that hypnosis is a common occurrence in your residence.” Hitoshi reaches for the glass, but you hold it away from him. Casting out a withering look, he says, “I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him again, even if I wanted to. Not for a while, anyways. Not without my tide jewel.”

“What’s a tide jewel?” Denki asks. “Is that, like, sea glass?”

Eyes flicking from the glass of water, to Denki, then to you, Hitoshi says, “he knows how to ask a question.”

The questions that you ask get ignored! But instead of saying that, you continue to withhold the water, and say, “then answer him.”

Mildly peeved, Hitoshi turns his attention back to Denki. “You say you have a couple of jobs. What would they be?”

“That’s not answering his question,” you mutter.

“I’ll decide whether I should answer him in a moment. Denki, if you will.”

“Oh, well…” The sheepish Denki brings his hand to the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I’ve got the PoolPros gig, and sometimes I pick shifts up at The Salty Barrel. I sort of got an affinity for making drinks…and cooking…and fixing things, so they like to keep me around.”

Unamused, Hitoshi pries. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. Fishing and delivery. I guess I’m pretty dependable because of the boat.”

This catches Hitoshi’s attention. “You have a boat?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s nothin’ too special yet. I’ve been working on it, and it’s coming along, but it’s not ready for what it’s truly intended for.”

“Which would be?”

Denki looks at you and winks, making your ears warm. You know exactly why he got the boat.

“Romantic rendezvous.”

“I see,” Hitoshi says pensively. Then, his eyes go sharp when he notices you fiddling with the ties on your shorts. “Are you two mates?”

Denki lifts a conspiratorial brow towards you, before throwing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. “Sure, yeah—we’re mates!”

You push away from him, and bite, “not those kinds of mates.”

Although nobody disagrees with you, you sense Denki sulking.

“Ah,” Shinsou muses. “You haven’t yet fought for her hand?”

Before you can groan at the idea, Denki laughs quietly, but his laughter quickly grows uproariously as he considers the idea. Soon, he’s gripping his stomach to stop himself from doubling over. You glare at his feet.

“As if there’s another guy to fight for her,” Denki bellows, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Maybe if she ever went out, but for now, the only person I gotta fight for her hand, is her!”

“Oh, I understand,” Shinsou says, eyes on you. “A battle to assert domination.”

Denki hoots loudly at the idea. “Looks like I’m screwed!”

To your growing agitation and embarrassment, Denki continues to laugh. It’s as if you’re not constantly shooting him down. You’re not pitiful. Not helpless. And you think you’d have some game if you put your heart into it. You just have a type, and the pool guy just doesn’t fit the bill, whether he’s handy or not.

There’s no humor to be found in Hitoshi’s eyes, though. He’s glaring at you, like before, only now he’s looking at you more like you’re a piece of meat—like he’s some kind of predator and you’re his newfound prey. You inadvertently step closer to Denki, as if he could be used as some sort of defense shield, then elbow him in the ribs, pretending that you’re not at all intimidated by this fish-turned-man.

“Nobody’s fighting anybody,” you say, keeping eye-contact with Hitoshi. You’ve been told before that the fact that you’re never the first to look away is a little off-putting. Hoping to have the same uncomfortable effect on your guest, you don’t even blink when you say, “I just have my eyes on someone special.”

At the same time Denki stops his laughing, Hitoshi narrows his eyes—not out of malice, but what seems to be curiosity. That’s as far as you’ll go with revealing any more personal information. You might not be physically spoken for, yet, but at least you’re emotionally unavailable. You vaguely wonder if those kinds of ideals are acknowledged by sea people.

“Yeah, Kiri,” Denki says with a roll of his eyes. So much for keeping things personal. “He’s not interested in dating anyone, though. In fact, he’s pretty much married to the ocean.”

“At least there aren’t other girls,” you say, and with a quick glance at Denki, you add, “or boys.”

Denki exaggerates a woeful, hand-over-forehead pose and cries, “at least we have each other!” Then, he places his hand back around your shoulders. Again, you scoot away from him, and this time, you catch Hitoshi’s lips quirk up, just a bit.

“Alright,” Hitoshi says. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” You ask.

“That the two of you are going to help me.”

The fish-man moves to flatten the burger wrap down on the counter like a map, and proceeds to decimate the other half of Denki’s burger. Denki says, “oh that’s fine…I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

“Help you with what!” You bark, practically starving for details. Despite Hitoshi and all that he’s done, your interest is piqued, and you feel as though you’re finally going to get to the meat of his situation.

Lining a few fries on the paper wrap, Hitoshi finally says, “a few of my worldly possessions have been stolen from me. They’ve been missing for quite a long time now, and I now plan to take them back. Four of the six items happen to be tide jewels. I figure those will be the easiest to locate and extract.”

Denki snaps his finger. “Tide jewels! That’s what we were talking about! What are those?

Dabbing his pinky into some mustard, Hitoshi says, “artistry…” He dips his ring finger into the ketchup and says, “reign…” he tears a piece of lettuce in half and says, “tide…” and finally, he rips some of the patty and says, “soul.”

“Artistry, reign, tide, soul,” Denki repeats, peeking over Hitoshi’s shoulder. “You don’t happen to be a musician, do you? A magician musician!”

“I’m a connoisseur, but not a practitioner.” Hitoshi breathes. “And you’re too close to me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not an artist,” Denki huffs, taking a few steps back. You move in to see what Denki saw.

On the wrap, the French fries have been warped to look like some sort of three-pronged fork. On the left prong, there’s a dab of ketchup, in the center, mustard, and the right has a piece of lettuce sitting on it. Connecting the three prongs is the bit of hamburger meat Hitoshi had ripped.

“Is this supposed to be a fork or a trident?” You ask, then kick yourself, because it’s obviously a trident. Duh. Mermaids. “Is that one of the things that have been stolen? A trident?”

Hitoshi says, “yes. All four of the tide jewels connect to the trident. With them, the trident could very well be one of the most powerful blessed objects on this planet. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Now, hang on,” Denki begins, brows curved into a frown. “What?”

“So good at questions,” you murmur.

“Each tide jewel has its own magical property. The names speak for themselves, but since the two of you are a little slow on the uptake, I’ll explain.” Hitoshi points at each different spot on his fries-trident, explaining what each point represents.

“The yellow jewel is for artistry and skill. Whoever wields it, whether in its natural form or attached to another object, will learn trades quickly, can craft almost anything at a master’s level, and they’ll have a more creative way of thinking.”

“The red jewel is for reign and rule. Whoever wields this can command any audience. Wars have been fought, kingdoms taken, and women stolen by the power of this gem. It’s almost the most violent of the four, but it can also be used to keep peace.”

“The blue jewel is for the tide. They used to be two jewels, one for tide-ebbing, the other for tide-flowing, but they’ve been molded together after another theft mishap. With the power of this jewel, one would be able to control not only the water of the sea, but water itself. This gem can create storms you couldn’t dream of. This is possibly the most dangerous stone if placed into the wrong hands.”

“Sir, that’s a piece of lettuce,” Denki says.

“Your burger didn’t have anything blue,” Hitoshi growls, “nor did it have anything purple, which brings me to the last jewel. This would be the soul jewel. It aids people with wishes, can offer good dreams, and can allow the wielder to see people’s auras, or souls. This jewel has stopped many malevolent unions in the past.”

Finally, Hitoshi turns back to you and Denki. There’s nothing content about his expression now. If anything, he looks grave.

“The fact that the trident is not in my possession has already had a cataclysmic influence on the world you know now. I need it, and the jewels, or else there may be dire consequences.”

Throat dry, palms sweaty, you swallow thickly, and allow yourself a moment to process all that he’s saying. It may be idiotic, but you believe him. Maybe if you hadn’t seen him in the water earlier, things would be different. You’d be more skeptical. But since you’ve already seen one impossible thing today—two if you're counting the fact that Hitoshi grew legs and magically poofed himself an outfit—you don’t think he’s lying.

However, Denki did not see him in the water. Which is why he’s the first to speak.

“Right,” he says, looking down on you. “Sorry, babe, but the marvel universe did it first with Thanos and his gauntlet. If this is supposed to be a scavenger hunt of some kind, can we skip the game, hints and all, and get to the dinner? I expect there’ll be candles and such for nighttime, so maybe you and I can hang out at the beach, sans the mean magician?” Denki looks at Hitoshi. “No offense, buddy. You could join us if you cheer up a bit. I’d never say no to a threesome with two equally attractive people.”

The water in the glass you’re holding begins to shake. It shakes, and then it moves, and then it lifts up into the air, snaking around like a gelatinous worm, and slowly makes its away to Hitoshi’s mouth. Never before have you seen anyone swallow menacingly, and this has changed it.

“I am not your buddy,” Hitoshi hisses between his teeth, “and this is not a game.”

“He just…” Denki begins stuttering. This isn’t something he can chock up to something as mundane as a magic trick. This is pure magic, and you feel less like a giant dork for how you reacted to Hitoshi showing himself to you, with how distraught Denki seems to be.

“I told you,” you say under your breath, “he’s a fish!”

“I am Hitoshi Shinsou. I am one of Ryūjin, and you will not desecrate my name or my people by belittling me or my power.” It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’s not only speaking to Denki, but to both of you. The thought makes you shift with unease as Hitoshi’s eyes slide from your friend to you. “Not without consequences. I’ve been burdened with this purpose, and the two of you can choose to help me and reap the rewards that follow, or you can return to your miserable lives, loligagging and ogling the things you know you want, but are too lazy to obtain.”

At this moment, Hitoshi Shinsou seems ancient to you. Trepidation crawls up your spine, chilling you to the bone. You regret most of what you’ve said to him, even the things you’d thought he deserved. You have an inkling that if Hitoshi really wanted to harm you, or Denki, he would. Easily.

“Okay, well-“ Denki, again speaks first, thank god. “You didn’t say there would be rewards.”

Maybe don’t thank god yet. But before you can apologize on Denki’s behalf, the air that you hadn’t realized had got heavier, thicker even, lifts, and Hitoshi eases up, lackadaisical smirk back on track.

“You both wish for something,” he says. “If you help me retrieve what’s rightfully mine, I will graciously return the favor by granting your wishes.”

“We do?” Denki asks. It’s wild to you how easily he could jump back into conversation like this, although, when you look closely at him, you can see that he’s trembling faintly. “What do I want?”

“You wish for a boat,” Hitoshi says, “so I will give you a boat.”

“I have a boat.”

“I’ll give you a better boat.” Hitoshi seems to be enjoying himself now, even going so far as to lean on the table, picturing exactly what he’s describing. “A captivating boat that both women and men find irresistible. It will sail smoother and faster than the other vessels out on sea. You will never want or need for an upgrade for it will never wear or tear.”

“A super boat,” Denki muses, beguiled by the idea. It’s your turn to be skeptical now, because you haven’t wished for anything. At least, not aloud for Hitoshi to hear.

“Then, what do I get?” You ask, arms crossed. You can admit that you’re interested in what he might have to say.

“Oh darlin’, that’s easy,” Hitoshi purrs, and moves from the counter over to you. Slowly, like he’s savoring your anticipation. Lifting a finger to your arm, he slides it across your skin, watching as both the glow and the tingles return. You have to hold your breath to yourself from sighing.

“You want to be loved,” he says, “adored even. And not just by anybody. You want to be with your soulmate, isn’t that right. That may be why you came to this island to begin with.”

There’s no way he could’ve known that you’re new to the island. Nobody said anything about it. But he’s not wrong. Though you can’t say he’s right either. You came to the island in hopes to find…yourself. And though you haven’t yet found yourself, you sure as hell found Kirishima. And soulmate has a nice right to it.

“So if we help you find these gems—“

“—tide jewels,” he intervenes.

“Tide jewels-“ you roll your eyes- “then you will give Denki a super boat, and you will unite me with a soulmate?”

“Exactly,” Hitoshi confirms. “Easy peesy, isn’t it?”

“How do we know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Denki asks, finally out of his super boat daydreams.

“I said you were good with questions.” Hitoshi smirks. “You don’t know. You can’t know. But you can either do this with me, and probably get a super boat and a soulmate out of it, or you can not, and get nothing.”

Denki side-eyes you, and you him. You hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment, and you already know how this would play out if you refuse. Denki would convince you to do it. You don’t do anything, he says with his eyes. Might as well hang around and see how this plays out.

“Fine.” Even though your good conscience screams at you to do otherwise, you let up. “We’ll help you.”

“Excellent.” Hitoshi beams, or at least, he beams in a way only someone who was just threatening two other people can beam. “Then we should start our search today. We’ll probably need to go into town and see if there are any supernatural occurrences or old folktales to check out.”

Going out to town is the last thing you’d planned on doing today. Or maybe the second to last thing you planned on doing. You have to ask, because if you don’t, you’ll go batsy.

“We won’t be getting wet, will we?”

Hitoshi scoffs, which isn’t an answer. Maybe you really don’t ask the right questions because when Denki asks, “you said there were six things you need to retrieve. What’s the sixth thing?” Hitoshi winks at you, and grins. And when he grins, your stomach aches.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #mha x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #mermaid!shinsou x reader #bnha mermaids #trident tale #tt

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sleepylixie · 3 years

Text

What love feels like

Non idol! Han Jisung X fem! Reader

Part of the Heart wants what it wants Anthology

Prompt #50. “Don’t look at me like that darling, you know I can’t say no.”

1k words, College AU, Beware of nightmare mention and aftermath, slight themes of panic ( It’s mostly fluff, my loves xD )

“No…please, no, stop…”

The soft, unintelligible whispers from the other side of the bed woke Jisung up, his eyes opening instinctively when he heard your voice. It had been a while since he’d gotten to go to bed with you, the both of your semester finals taking all the energy and attention away from each other. Your relationship was fairly new, your dynamic still on the way to melting away the shiny honeymoon feeling into something warmer, worn in and comfortable.

Turning over sluggishly, he stretched out an arm to touch you, belatedly wondering what you were murmuring about- were you sleep talking again?? But when his fingertips grazed your arm, too cold for being under a fleece blanket, his eyes focused on how your body was curled up near the corner of the bed and his sleepiness cleared enough to make sense of what was escaping your mouth, he knew something was wrong.

Those weren’t whispers, they were whimpers. You were having a nightmare.

Panic coursed through Jisung’s veins at the realization, his sleep completely clearing away as he sat up in bed, teeth gritted against the head rush that came with sitting up too fast. Gently, without jostling you too much, he rolled you on to your back, settling you further under the blanket. Your eyes remained screwed shut, choked whimpers leaving your lips as your fingers unconsciously clutched at your clothes.

Jisung had never seen your face like this- pinched with pain, eyebrows scrunched together as you twisted and turned restlessly, almost like you were uncomfortable in your very skin. It scared him. “Baby, wake up,” His voice wavered uncertainly, fingers smoothing over your forehead and pulling aside wayward strands of hair. You only let out a distressed whine, head tilting away from his hand.

“Not now, please… stop it…”

Every sound that left your mouth served to worry Jisung even more- what was he supposed to do? Was it okay to shake you awake? Would it shock you? Surely you had to wake up to snap out of it-

“Darling, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” It was like his body was moving on autopilot as he clutched your shoulders, gently shaking you to hopefully wake you up. You were stiff as a board, he realized, as he felt the tension in your body stringing along your shoulders. What were you seeing that terrified you this much? “Baby, it’s just a nightmare, you’re okay, you need to wake up-“ He shook you again, a little harder, feeling slightly guilty for being rougher than normal. “Come on, you gotta wake up, it’s only a nightma-“

A sharp gasp punctuated by loud intakes of breath had Jisung leant back, a breath of relief escaping him- you’d woken up. But your wide eyes instantly filled with tears, a sob pushing its way up your throat as you scrambled upright, throwing yourself into Jisung’s arms. Almost instantly, his arms curled around your body, holding you closer to his as you sobbed against the crook of his neck, breath still unsteady and gasping. One hand held softly onto yours where it was grasping his shirt in an almost death grip, rubbing soft, calming circles onto the back of your hand. “You’re okay, my love, You’re okay.”

Jisung’s voice was soft as he rocked you back and forth slowly, occasionally pressing kisses against your hairline. Soon enough, your racking sobs diminished to wet sniffles and then, silence. He let the silence stretch, not making a move away from you or asking you what happened. You would tell him yourself if you wanted to, this wasn’t something he would dare push to know about. “I’m sorry…” Your voice was thick, hesitant, the regret seeping through the syllables even without the words to tether them. “You didn’t have to deal with that.” Your face was still buried against his shoulder. A scoff rustled the top of your hair. “I don’t mind it at all, baby,” Jisung’s voice was soft as yours, each sentence punctuated by a kiss on your forehead. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’m good. You don’t need to explain.”

A watery smile curled your lips up; what had you done to come across the absolute sweetheart of a human being? And that he’d end up being interested in you as well?

You did end up explaining to him anyway: that there were some things your mind refused to address and heal when you were awake, no matter how much you tried. That you were scared senseless by the thought of losing people you cared for, after incidents in your past forced you to face the fear. That sometimes, you ended up waking up in a pool of your own sweat, struggling to ground yourself in reality.

Jisung listened quietly as you spoke, still rocking your bodies back and forth. The action was almost mindless yet comforting- it worked well in calming you down so he didn’t bother stopping.

“Thank you for trusting me, baby.”

One of his hands smoothed down your hair, mindlessly playing with the strands. Neither of you had bothered to move away from each other- so you were still curled up in Jisung’s lap as the conversation progressed. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” He grinned tiredly at you. Even in the 3 a.m state of shaken-from-sleep, Han Jisung managed to look handsome. Dark hair falling over his forehead and eyes, large graphic shirt crumpled over his form, the moonlight hitting the soft planes of his face just right. You couldn’t help but reach up to press a soft kiss against his lips, smiling at his widened eyes when you pulled away. “Yeah, sleep…but before that...”

Your playfully innocent gaze met his, eyes sparkling with lazy mirth. Despite the exhaustion that was still sitting heavy in his bones, Jisung couldn’t help but grin at the sight. The beautiful, strong, gorgeous, steadfast... dare he say love of his life? Too soon, maybe? But at that moment, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. To see you smile, to see your eyes shine that brightly... it warmed his heart beyond words could describe. Surely that’s what love felt like? “I’m hungry. Could you make some ramen?”

“Don’t look at me like that baby, you know I can’t say no.”

Do let me know what y’all think! I’d love feedback <3 Requests are open for this collection, so do check out the Masterlist for the prompts and rules! Love, Elliana.

Network Tags: @districtninewriters @inkidz @angstyskzclub @kpopscape

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #kpopscape #skz x reader #districtninewriters #han jisung #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz jisung #jisung x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #ellaskz #masterlist: hearts #skz angst

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intangibly-here · 3 years

Text

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames...

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink.

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands.

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist.

swallowtail.

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one.

and well, here he is now.

chop. chop.

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is.

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger.

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway.

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?”

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense.

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward.

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance.

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo.

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far...

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb.

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her.

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab.

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?”

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly.

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register.

“come again.”

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them.

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you.

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own.

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it.

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no?

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully.

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.)

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

he takes it back.

he takes it all back.

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however— with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls.

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment.

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously.

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance.

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house.

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.)

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off.

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait.

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another.

right now, he needs you.

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him.

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his.

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?”

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

#zhongli #genshin impact #fluff #jealousy #zhongli x gn!reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #request #cecilia

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jockpoetry · 4 years

Text

Dean’s Canon Divergent 42nd Birthday.

(on ao3)

The bunker was still, Sam and Eileen were...somewhere, and currently they didn’t have any visitors. No guests, no wayward hunters, or any friends stopping by to catch their breath. Not even family. It was, for once, just Dean, his broken leg, and a case of beer that was mostly empties now.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” the words weren’t slurred, even though he felt the weight and warmth of alcohol resting heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d acknowledged his own birthday, but in the solitude of the bunker it felt right to at least say the words aloud.

The hovered above him as he contemplated beer four - five, maybe - and wondered if it was time to hit the harder stuff. An uncomfortable lump had begun to form somewhere above his heart. He pushed out of the chair, half-drunk off the now warm beers Dean heaved himself upward and swayed on his feet for a beat. The main room of the bunk swum before his eyes before he shut them, steadying himself.

He felt stale, sore, and exhausted. Which meant that it was definitely time to switch to something harder. The path to his room was familiar and before he knew it tired hands pulled drawers open until the glass of an unfinished bottle of bourbon he’d opened the other night was welcome against his palm.

Not bothering to find a glass he took the bottle to his bed, the cap flicked off to the side with a quiet clatter. The cool of the liquor was crystalline after a haze of lukewarm beers. One hand holding the bottle steady he adjusted his pillow behind him and settled down, eyes staring unseeingly straight ahead.

This was kind of pathetic, even for him, wasn’t it? Getting drunk, alone, on your birthday. Another small pull of the bourbon quieted those thoughts, even if it didn’t fully dull the ache of too many questions he never let himself ponder. The bunker was too quiet, though, and Dean wasn’t sure even if he put music on and cranked it as loud as it could go it would drum out the thunder in his head.

How old was he?

Did he count the years in hell, or not? Does he count the one in purgatory? How about the hundred days he lived and died - were those a part of this life? He ran his free, rough hewn, hand - was this even his original hand - over his face. His breath in soft tatters. Birthdays in the past had been busy, world’s were ending, people were dying, but now here he was. Still. Everything was...okay. It was, there was no crisis at hand. Just busywork, clean up jobs, every day tasks that called people away.

Hell he wasn’t even sure if Sam and Eileen were even on a hunt, maybe they’d just taken a weekend away to breathe. It had to be nice, having someone to breathe with. Having a life with someone.

All Dean had was a life unworthy of any fanfare. Unworthy of a text from Jack or Sam or....

The lump was back this time decidedly higher, threatened to cut off his air and made the backs of his eyes burn.

More bourbon, definitely...definitely more bourbon.

But even the bright burn of warming liquor didn’t stop the way the room was beginning to melt. Or the warm trails that had begun to fall down his face. Was it even his face? He’d only been born to be a fucking meatsuit for an angel. Fucking angels, fucking destiny and fate and -

The sob that ripped out of him breaks the silence, and for a long time there is only unsteady, heaving, gasping breaths. They fill up the room, and go on for long enough that the bourbon is on his bedside table and both hands are holding his face. It is his, no matter who’s inhabited it, how many times it has died, this is his. He is his.

He only belongs to himself.

He’s always belonged to himself, an island of one. Everyone always leaves, Sam included. Hell Sam’s got a life of his own, and is happy. He’s got the hunter network running as nicely as Baby’s engine. And Dean?

Dean’s got a splotchy face long after his tears slow to a stop. He’s in the midst of taking a shuddering, wet breath, when off in the distance there’s the sound of a door shutting.

Every muscle in his body tenses, his hand half reached under his pillow for the gun stashed there, before he can rationalize to his foggy brain it’s just some hunter, probably. He listens, ears straining, as distantly familiar footsteps draw nearer. The tears have dried on his face, the skin stiff and uncomfortable, but he barely dares to breathe let alone move.

A shadow pauses before his door, as it stealing itself, before the sound of a doorknob and

“Oh,” Cas’ face slowly comes into focus.

Cas’ face...Dean stands too quickly and mostly falls off of his bed. He catches himself with one arm, staring wide-eyed as Cas comes closer. As Cas’ warm, familiar, hands rest on his shoulder. As Cas’ impossibly blue eyes look over his face with concern. “Dean,” and that’s definitely Cas’ voice. Deep and rough like tires over gravel and Dean can feel the threat of tears returning as he shakes his head.

Because it can’t be Cas.

“You’re dead,” the words take far too much effort to form. The not-Cas-Cas’ face crumples, softens, looks at him in that makes the tears come out harder. “Christ I need to stop drinking,” he pulls shaking hands to press into his eyes, willing whatever drunken vision away. But the warm weight of a second hand comes to cup his face, and the sound of fabric crinkling and knees resting on concrete are enough to tell him the not-Cas-Cas isn’t going away anywhere soon.

The soft motion of a thumb across his cheek is enough to ease some of the tension away, and maybe he can just pretend. No one else is around, he can be allowed this? A drunken dream, too good to be true, and lets his head rest heavier on the palm there. His hands falling from his eyes to rest between his legs.

“You could’ve had me,” the words are so quiet, “I wish you would’ve.” How many times has he admitted these words in his dreams? In prayers that went unanswered? “Too fucking chicken shit to ever do anything, too afraid I’d fuck it up,” the words spill out of him faster and faster. “One good thing, the one good thing this life gave to me was you, but I know me, I fuck everything up. I don’t know how to keep people, only how to push ‘em away and I couldn’t....”

Couldn’t lose Cas like that, in a permanent way, but he did anyways. In the end silence wasn’t salvation, it was just as damning as any words could’ve been.

“Dean,” and that’s enough to draw his eyes back open. And there’s Cas, as he should be, weary, wary, with that softest trace of hope. “I-I knew,” but the words halt and he can see the way the muscles in this vision of Cas clench. The way blue eyes shift around for a moment, searching for the right words to say. In his dream Cas would surge forward and cover him in kisses. Sloppy and sappy and feeling like everything he’d wanted.

This Cas seems uncertain, “I could feel the way you felt, but you’re so-so complex. I didn’t wish to assume, didn’t want to...hope.” Each words feels like it’s been pulled, painfully, from some deep place. “Dean, please,” and the hand on his cheek tilting his face upwards. “Look at me,” blue eyes pleading as much as the words.

Taking in a steadying breath Dean does, and all he sees is Cas. The open longing and desperation on his face. “Jack,” the words drift over Dean like warm waves, “brought me back from the empty. I wasn’t right, but your prayers...they helped. Jack, Mary, Charlie even they helped me. I would have come back sooner, but -”

Whatever further words Cas might’ve said were muffled as Dean surged forward, arms wrapping around the familiar expanse of the angels back. Hands soothed down his back, a face pressing into his hair, and surely there are words being spoken but Dean can’t hear them. All he can hear is the thud of two pulses, their bodies melded together as close as they can be. A warmth, completely unrelated to the alcohol, surges through his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas’ voice finally breaks through, “I used my grace to sober you. I wanted you to see this wasn’t,” but again words are interrupted. This time by a suddenly, blisteringly, sober Dean leaning and pressing his lips against Cas’ stupid, eternally, chapped ones.

The sag of relief brings Cas somehow closer to him, and they sit there, Cas knelt between Dean’s knees, kissing until they’re out of breath. Until Cas leans back to press his forehead against Dean’s, both of their breathing uneven and eyes shut. Dean lets his hands slowly drag down from shoulder blade to hips and shifts to rest his head upon one of Cas’ shoulders.

The hand that begins to comb through his hair, soothing away any doubt, any fear. “They kept telling me I could go back when I was ready,” the words break the silence, but Dean doesn’t move and neither does Cas. The only motion is the hand through his hair, “and I never knew.... I didn’t know how to tell when I was ready, but then I remembered.” The hand in his hair pulls slightly, just enough to shift Dean back so Cas can look him full in his face again.

“January 24th, 1979,” the smile on Cas’ face is sun-bright and warms Dean right to his core. “I was given a gift I didn’t fully understand that day, and I figured it would only be fair if...if I returned the gesture.” Cas’ lips are warm against his forehead, lingering for a beat too long before pulling away again. “Happy birthday, Dean, I hope this is the first of many you’ll let me celebrate with you.”

Dean answers the only way he can, by pressing another kiss against Cas’ lips, and pulling him closer.

#spnfic #destielfic #destiel fic #supernaturalfic #destiel #spn #my writing #i decided to finish this ficlet from last month too.#posting this does mean though that i officially need to get over myself and post ch2 to guiding light. next...next weekend let's aim for tha #*that.#long post

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