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dcxdpdabbles · 11 months

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The bakery is a front!...Right? Part 5

Danny opens his eyes to the sight of a potent magical barrier glowing around him. It would have held off many of his subjects but did nothing against his court, much less the king.

Then, he noticed he was in some sort of cave, strapped down to a fluffy bed. There isn't much he can see besides the various machines hooked up throughout the place, various cars, two planes, what appeared to be a training ground, and a.... dinosaur?

Where the hell am I? He thinks, trying to recall what happened to lead him here. But all he can clearly remember is fighting with Phantom over going to the park. Everything after that was a blur.

He tries to move, frowning at the very little give of his restraints. One around each of his four limbs, three large belts over his knees, stomach, and upper chest.

After a few minutes of struggling as a human, he slumps in place.

His blue eyes fly over the runes that shine along the barrier's side, noting three magical signatures. This was a group effort. Strange. Who would put Danny here?

Phantom remains silent but watchful from their shared eyes as Danny scans his surroundings again to ensure no one is around before shifting. As soon as his ghost forms, the barrier flairs, indicating an alarm has been tripped.

Danny sighs tiredly, allowing his body to pass through the restraints. Phantom reaches out to push his hand through the barrier, wiggling his fingers on the other side. Just as they thought, it's not going to keep Danny inside.

Feels like water. Phantom says, and Danny agrees. Whoever put him in here either overestimated their strength or underestimated Danny. He hopes it's not another death cult. Those always left him feeling sick after dealing with them.

It's then Danny realizes another fact. Phantom does not feel like his body trying to split in half; Phantom feels like himself again, another part of who makes up Danny.

Like the inner voice when you read in your head, just as his ghost half had always been since he was fourteen. Danny had been in this creepy cave for over a week because his mating season had finally ended.

That also meant that Danny was missing a full week of memories.

He is going to have some words with whoever is responsible. Danny rechecks the barrier, realizing it's still flaring, and decides to wait for them to approach him. He can pretend he's trapped inside, hopefully creating a false sense of security and getting answers from his kidnappers.

He crosses his legs under him just as a portal rips open a few feet away from his barrier and out rushes a blond man in a trench coat. Behind the man is a woman in a magician outfit and a teenage girl in a purple cape. Danny scans each person, noting the barrier's magical signature matches them all, and knows they are responsible.

Trench coat falls to one knee, bowing his head in respect. "Your majesty."

The other two follow suit after he speaks, repeating his greeting. It seems Trench Coat is the leader. The ghost king leans back on his hands, frost slowly spreading over the blankets under his palms.

It crawls to the edges, slowly falling down the legs of the bed and around the floor. Danny stops it right at the lines of the barrier, knowing the blond man is watching it. The blond man's shoulder relaxes when the frost fails to go over the drawn lines.

So they did underestimate Danny. Well, it made things easier, at least.

"Where am I?" Knowing Phantom's voice echoes and unsettles the three kneeing magic users, he asks. Sam had once told him it sounded like the cracking of ice glaciers from within the giant ice caves after his friend returned from a trip to the artic with her parents.

Danny wasn't exactly sure what that sounded like, but he had always thought it made him more intimidating, especially when he kept his voice a regal calm. Tucker said the calm made it extra creepy, and he wanted to watch these three sweat right now.

"The Batcave, your Highness." Trench Coat responds. Danny's jaw drops.

"The what cave!?" He gasps, springing up from the bed to spin around and look at his surrounding better. He knows he just shattered the illusion but come on! It's the Batcave! This place was a legend among his customers! "Batcave as in Batman!?"

"Indeed." A new voice calls and Danny's head snaps toward a man hiding within a shadow. He's good for a human, but although the shadows open their arms to him, they are not part of him, and Danny can trace every inch of him as easily as though a spotlight had been shined on him.

"Batman" He whispers in awe. The Dark Knight steps out into the line of sight of the other three, ignoring Trench Coat when the blond man starts to hiss at him to kneel. "I got kidnapped by Batman. That's so metal."

Batman, to his credit, doesn't even flinch at the accusation. "You were deemed a danger to the public."

Danny snorts. "Been there. Done that. Got a cookie on the way back."

The mask man's eyes narrow. "Are you aware of the damage you have caused? The lives you have potentially ruined since arriving in my city?"

"Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about. All I did was open a bakery." Danny glances down at the magic users before waving a hand. "You three can stand now, by the way."

The three stand as Batman steps up against the barrier. He looms over Danny in a poor attempt at intimation. Even with having to tilt his head back to keep eye contact and the glowing yellow stip of magic, Danny finds himself on equal footing with the human.

"Batman, bugger off. Now." Trench Coat hisses, yanking the other back a few steps. "We do not need a war with one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse."

"A being that tried to steal my sons." The other man growls, and Danny blinks.

"First of all, I didn't even know you had kids. Second, I have never met them in my life, much less steal-"

"Red Robin will not be going with you, no matter what you say!" Batman interrupts. "If I have to keep you here until the contract is neutralized, I will."

"This is not helping B." The woman dressed like a magician says. She was beyond nervous, a slight tremble ranking her frame. "We're supposed to be negotiating the terms of the engagement."

"The engagement?" Danny mouths, confused.

"We have his sister, Jassmin Fenton. That's a good enough starting point-" The girl in the cape starts, and Danny snaps to attention at his sister's name. Her neck is in his hand, cutting off her words with a chock gasp. He sneers in her face even as the other three scream at the speed he crosses the barrier.

"Where. Is. Jazz."

"Raven!" The other woman screams. "Prat eht gnik ni a egac!"

Her magic washes over him but freezes as Danny's power overtakes it. The spell lands on the ground as a sparkling clump of ice.

The girl claws at his hands, trying to pry him off even when a bear tazer slams into his side, sending electricity throughout his body. If he had been fourteen that would have been enough to have scared him enough into letting go.

He's not a little kid anymore, though. He backhands Batman away from him, catching the tazer he drops as he is flung and throwing it at Trench Coat.

It slams against the man, knocking him on his ass. "I didn't even do anything!"

Danny raises the girl, wondering if he should squeeze more- it's not choking her. He just wanted to scare her.- when Ellie came flying from the direction of a large stone stairway. It seems the Batcave was underneath something. "Danny, stop! Let her go!"

"They kidnapped Jazz!" He yells, eyes blazing in an angry green. Raven's eyes widened at the color. She chants a spell, but her magic is frozen like Zatanna's was before it could even form. She looks stricken.

Not surprising since magic is supposed to be one thing to never fail against the paranormal. Too bad for her Danny is the king and thus far more powerful than the average ghost.

"No, they didn't! She literally upstairs flirting with Jason!"

Danny lets Raven go to swing his head in Ellie's direction. "Who the fuck is Jason!?"

"A really buff book nerd."

"Of course he is."

"Yeah, he's also Peter Draper." Ellie continues with a What can you do shrug.

"Oh, word?" Danny tries to imagine Jazz and Peter, but his employee is so short-tempered that he finds it odd his sister would ever look his way twice. Then again, Peter was only short-tempered because he was trying to keep Alvin safe from Phantom's charm, so....maybe that's what got her attention?

"Your Highness," Trench Coat clears his throat. "We really need to discuss the engagement."

"What engagement?"

Ellie flies over to drape herself across his shoulders like a floating scarf. "The one between you and Timothy Drake."

"The Wayne CEO?" Danny never met the guy; how was he engaged to him?

"Yeah, but you know him as Alvin Draper or Red Robin." Ellie shrugs at his Godsmack expression. "The Bats thought you were selling drugs, using kids as carriers, and using the bakery as a front to cover up your crimes."

"Drugs? Child endangerment!? Why would they think I would do something so terrible?! My bakery is a lovely place!"

"Cause you're kind of shady, Danny. Fruitloop shady."

"I'm disowning you." Danny turns his attention back to the four - heroes? If they were with Batman, they had to be right?- and frown. "I love Gotham. I was just trying to sell pastries and help my community."

"Yeah, but you're still shady." Ellie laughs, ignoring the disownment like every other time Danny threatened her. "They sent in spies to figure you out."

"Spies? In my bakery?" Danny repeats, horrified. He snaps his fingers at his sister, narrowing his eyes. "You can never tell Andres he was right."

She bares her teeth in response, and he knows his store manager will be unbearable come Monday. Danny covers his face wanting to scream, until Batman steps to growl at him. "Tim isn't going anywhere with you."

Danny squints at him. "You're making it sound like I'm taking him by force."

"You are." And another voice jumps in, but this one is familiar. Danny twists around to see Alvin-er Tim calmly walk down the large stairway wearing only white pants. Along the sides of the pants are runes that make Danny's stomach drop.

They're the marking of a human sacrifice in the ghost zone.

"I won't resist." Tim continues stopping before a horrified Danny and clasping his hands tightly. Tim's gaze rests on his feet, every inch of him portraying submission. A group of people quickly come down the stairs, each trying to talk over the other, but Danny can't take his eyes off the human, giving himself up.

Phantom's core weeps. When a human is made into a sacrifice, there is nothing other ghosts can do to intervene. It's one of the Rules within the zone, like Truce Day. There was nothing he could do to save his employee.

"Who?" He whispers his ghostly glow highlighting the youth in Tim's face. Only nineteen. "Who do you belong to?"

Tim's hands twitch, but it's the only sign of discomfort as he lowers his gaze even more. "To you, your highness."

"Wha-"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Jazz yells, walking over to whack him on the head. Ellie moves so her hand can reach his skull and punches the back of his head. Several people gasp, scandalized, but she does seem to care as she starts nagging. "Daniel Fenton! You let this boy out of his human sacrifice engagement with you right now!"

"His what with what?!" Danny screams back, only to have Sam walk around a blond woman and stomp on his foot. "Ow!"

"This a dick move, Danny! Tucker, come over here and tell him!"

His best friend appears only to punch him in the gut. "It's mess up, man! Tim didn't even know he was walking into a fae circle when he went to your apartment!"

"Stop hitting me! I don't even know what the hell is going on!" He yells, rubbing his bruised stomach.

Jazz crosses her arms and taps her foot. "Five. Four."

"Why are you counting?"

" Three. Two"

"Jazz, seriously, stop it."

"One. Zer-"

"I, High King Phantom, release Timothy Drake with no conditions!" He screams, cowering away. The runes on Tim's pants snap like broken chains. "Just please don't say zero!"

"That's what I thought." She says, nodding her head and then laughing. "I can't believe that still works on you. I'm sorry we didn't explain, but I wanted to get Tim out of danger as soon as possible. Tim was the first to find you when the Bats raided your house a week ago, looking for non-existing drugs. Phantom took over in a mate craze and tried to keep him along with Damian- er Robin- prisoners. "

"We all had to join forces to free them, but you were too powerful. You ripped a portal into the ghost zone and took them." Sam takes over giving Danny a stink eye. She always does hate when Danny slips away to the zone to avoid them. "Tim struck a deal with Phantom agreeing to be his human sacrifice/ husband in exchange for his brother's freedom while the rest of us tried to get to the zone."

Danny doesn't know what to say but feels his mouth moving. It's Phantom who answers. "Again, from the bottom of my heart. My bad. Really. I just wanted a baby."

Ellie chirps, "Baby fever is a medical condition Phantom. Don't sweat it."

"Maybe sweat it a little." A man shouts from beside the frozen Tim. The teenager is staring at Danny with a kind of worship looking upon a saint. And a lover. Danny blushes slightly. "You stole my baby brothers."

"Richard. I can not have this conversation again with you." Phantom rolls his eyes and fades back into Fenton as he powers down. "All I did to Tim was try to cover him in blankets, feed him and make him sleep. My human side wasn't even aware of things."

"Still not cool, Phantom. I thought Danny was going to retake him after this visit," Richard responds, pressing Tim into his side. "Even if it was just due to your mating season, don't repeat it."

Danny takes over with a raised brow. "Don't go into my lair during my mating season, then. Who had you snooping?"

"We did what we had to." Batman is notably less hostile now that the contract between Tim and Danny is broken. Danny considers his words and then nods. He gets that. He would have done the same if he thought some creep was luring the street kids into something dangerous.

"Danny," Tim says, approaching the halfa "Will you go on a date with me?"

"Drake! No!" A child screams from the crowd, but Danny can only see those gorgeous blue eyes, and something deep within him uncoils. Phantom settles in Danny's soul with a content sigh. It's found its mate, after all.

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you." Danny pauses. "You won't work at the bakery anymore, right? I can't date my employees. That's a power imbalance."

Tim laughs leaning in to press his lips against Danny's. The other human's outraged cries fade away as Danny melts against him. "How could I ever think I could resist you. You're too perfect. "

"Wait- what?" Danny blinks, but Tim shushes him with another kiss. Both ignore how the Bats leap in to pull them apart, or Team Phantom rushes to protect Danny and fight them off.

John Constante watches the two groups with a frown "So...no war?"

"I don't think so?" Zatanna responds, confused, while Raven watches impassively.

Danny was right. Come Monday, Andres is unbearable, but Tim comes over for lunch and a quick make-out session, so it's worth it. Manolo returns later that day to invite Danny to his school band performance. His mother is now on her way to recovery, finally allowing him to learn the flute.

All is well in Phantom Bakes.

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4)

#dc x dp crossover #dcxdpdabbles #dead tired #The bakery is a front!...right?#Part 5 #End #Tim sort of fell in love with Phantom #and with Danny #Danny wake up babe- a new Phantom lore dropped

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nanabrainrot · 10 months

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Leg Lock [Pervert!Miguel]

Miguel isn’t convinced you’re as adept in as many martial arts as you say; he says you can only prove it with a spar.

Warning! NSFW content ahead. DUBIOUS CONSENT - reader is oblivious the way he’s wrestling is to cop a feel and that he cums on himself :/ what a freak

Pervert!Miguel x F!Oblivious!Reader

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You were none the wiser. Your spidey senses just didn’t pick up on the ways of men - you were no mind reader. The definition of book smart but not street smart. It’s unbelievable you accepted his personal “challenge” to spar and no less showed up in this ensemble: the smallest compression shorts that was barely even the size of boyshorts and a form fitting tank with a v that dipped dangerously low to the stretch of skin between your tits.

The fact he turned up the air conditioner and had the fan looming above on full blast only served to sweeten the sight by making your nipples pebble against the polyester mix. If he put enough friction across your chest, if you were sensitive you’d surely moan or at least give him a choked gasp; something to jack off to later.

“You ready to eat your words, Miguel?” you huffed seriously. The comical difference between you two was shown in the shadow cast by the fluorescent overhead light in the spinning fan: he was standing hands on his hips and stone-faced at one end of the personal training room and you at the other, bouncing on the balls of your feet with hands already stiff in front like a boxer. It didn’t help it looked like a yippy chihuahua hounding a rottweiler for a fight.

“Just try to at least land a hit -“

You lunged forward, shin flying up to try and meet his neck only to be blocked by his forearm. His eyes widen at your fast pace, but narrow as he meets your onslaught of moves with defenses. The little wraps around your fists do graze his skin as you batter at him with a flurry of fists like a boxer, though your kicks definitely reminded him of capoeira. The speed of it had to be from mixed martial arts and speedboxing while your grace and precision was karate inspired. And he could tell you did jiu jitsu by the way you tried to get him in a leg lock, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist and use your arms to push at his neck hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

You had to have known that move would have put you in this position: back pressed hard to the mat with no way out. You were incredibly skilled, surprising him with the flurry of fists and kicks fast enough to put him in a position where he could only really use defense but definitely underestimated what he was willing to do to best you.

Miguel had a black belt in jiu jitsu, teaching classes at the dojo Gabby went to back in Nueva York, hard pressed to raise a girl who could handle her own. If you hadn’t overestimated yourself and started off using so much energy, you wouldn’t be panting like this.

Your brows knit, face tense with focus as you gauged your next move but his mind was anywhere but this spar: his cock was against your groin. The sorry excuse of shorts left nothing to the imagination only confirmed that under it was nothing but your bare puffy cunt as his knees drove into the mat to set you in place under him, your wrists pinned under his. “You didn’t land a hit. Too big of an ego can get you -“

A hard impact of your feet hitting his pecs and sending him back from the surprise as you rolled back in a tuck and jumped to your feet back in a boxing stance. Flyaways stuck out from your messy hair from being pinned to the mat as your chest heaved, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Can get me what?” you snorted in between short breaths.

“Get you -“ Miguel lunged forward, his legs long and strong enough to dart behind you to grab you by the waist and drag you to the floor, “-killed.”

Whines and grunts of struggle left you as you tried to get out of the compromising position: Miguel had you in a nelson on the floor, big hot palms of his hands on your neck and arm pinning back your biceps as you tried to grab at his wrists to apply enough force to get him to have a looser grip.

Too focused is a bad thing, sometimes. The fabric of your volleyball compression shorts that were more like panties rode up as your ass grinded against his groin - cock hard and twitching in his sweatpants as your feet struggled to get enough friction with the mat to be able to do a backbend or tuck and roll to use your flexibility. Dozens of possible routes flit in your mind and zero of them acknowledged you were basically being dry humped by Miguel: his grunts from the friction mistakes for grunts of effort. In reality, you were easy to restrain but the issue was your agility and speed compared to his strength - a given granted his strength based workout regimen versus yours, which focused on flexibility.

“If powers were allowed, I’d have had you pinned in the first minute,” you panted, lip twitching in focus as you continued to roll your hips against his as you struggled to find footing to be able to utilize your flexibility and roll over him. He must be smart, you think (stupidly), as his legs suddenly push against the mat and have him standing: yet you hang there in a full nelson. “That’s not funny, Miguel!” you hissed, as his forearms settled under your thighs during the shift and the palms secured at your neck still. The size difference suddenly made you realize why spars had size and weight classes; but there were no weight classes with the villains and anomalies you regularly encountered, he chastisted as he offered a spar with you.

If you had your powers allowed, you would’ve had him against the ceiling by now. But you shook on it. God, you wish you had a weaker sense of integrity and just said fuck it and blasted him with your power to get out of this humiliating debacle. The only thing left in reach was his fingers.

Your hands fly to the fingers locked behind your neck keeping you mid air as you resorted to a dirty trick: scratching with nails. A low hiss emits as he drops you and loses footing, landing on top of you: groin to ass. The dirty trick leaves him huffing with anger as he suddenly has you in a head lock, your hands batting at him pathetically. You just wanted to tap out, he could tell, but he just needed one thing: to have his way.

His hips roll into your pussy, feigning it as trying to keep you pinned by shifting weight from knee to knee in a side-to-side motion and lurched forward sometimes. The fact you kept bucking your hips to get out of the pin only helped him along; the warmth of your pussy would have been nicer, but next spar. Knowing your competitive nature, you would go along with a naked wrestling competition if it meant coming out on top.

But he’s on top right now, his hot breath fanning your ear as you mewl and bat at the thick forearnms around your neck pinning you. “F-fine…!” you whine out, borderline pornographic in your pleading, “you win!”

His hips roll again, with you still bucking your hips back into him. “Say it again.” He knew your whiny nature, the way when you wanted your way you would do anything: most missions consisted of you pleading and begging to see the sights on other dimensions or stop by food stalls like you were on vacation. He fucking spoiled you but even bratty bitches need discipline.

“You win!”

“Louder!”

“You win, Miguel!”

A hot pant. Fuck, the way you were whining and bucking in this position was getting him close. A few more words and he’d surely cum, wearing the dark sweatpants and a long baggy tee that loomed over where the wet spot would be specifically with this in mind. No powers put you in a disadvantage, the height and mass difference would never let you win. A spar was just a reason to hump you as you stupidly wriggled and cried out. One more sentence, then he’ll cum, cum and stop. The urge will leave and he can go back to being sated and content without distraction; he was too busy to keep entertaining this disgusting fantasy of fucking you every day and night. Just one more sentence to freedom.

A hot puff of air in your ear before a deep raspy voice hisses, “Now tell me I’m big and strong and I’ll let you go.” Your eyes widen as you look in confusion at the mat, his face behind you as you chest was still glued to the mat thanks to his weight.

“T-tell you what?”

“Say ‘you’re too big and strong for me, Miguel.’” A roll of the hips.

“No! I can still win!” you buck back harder, hips shifting hard between his groin and the mat to try and get out. Your nails sink into his forearms but he doesn’t move. You can’t get out until you say it. It’s a shameful dawn of emotion that wounds your pride. But you can get stronger, spar with him more, until you can beat him - powers or no powers.

“Say it and you can go.” The wriggling winds down as time stretches, you finally going limp and panting on the mat with his weight still crushing you.

A gulp.

Softer than a whisper, “You’re so big and strong, Miguel…”

The cum spurts into his briefs, inevitably ruining them and leaving a wet spot in the pants. You’re too tired, limp, to feel his clothed dick twitch against your pussy through the shorts.

You don’t even feel happy when he clumbers off you; in your universe you were a master of the arts and your powers only enhanced this great feat. Yet, you still lost to your boss. You want a rematch.

No.

You need a rematch.

He clumbers away, slow heavy footfalls and low panting breaths as he strides to the exit of the personal training room. Sitting back on your heels still panting but back to him as he walked away you find enough energy to ask: “Same time next week, Miguel?”

You’ll win. You’ll run a million miles, do a thousand crunches, and eat your weight - no, Miguel’s weight in protein and come out victorious next week as you always do. Just because he’s a man it didn’t mean you had no chance: it only meant you had to work harder.

Quiet. He’s panting though, you hear it, but the strain in his voice isn’t just from the spar: “Same time next week.”

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hope yall likedd feel free to leave requests or anything in my inbox! its p empty rn - I have a hobie fic coming next <3

#nana writes spiderverse #nana writes #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader smut #miguel o’hara x you smut #miguel o’hara x y/n smut

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dira333 · 4 months

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Lap Cat - Aone x Reader

Just a lil something I couldn't get out of my brain - 1,4k

Aone is a lap cat.

You know the moment you meet him, even though you can’t point out what had given it away.

It surely isn’t the way he keeps his voice to himself and uses his glares as a way of talking. Or the way he overestimated the weight of the door or underestimated his own strength and ripped your office door out of its handles on his first day.

He’d been the talk of the town for a whole month.

“Aone-san,” you called out at the end of the morning briefing. “Do you have a minute?”

He nods and follows you out and up the stairs into your office on the first level.

You wonder what he thinks of you, in your nice business suit with the air-conditioned office. If he looks down on you like some of the other workers do because you’re one if not the youngest building designers in the company. You don’t think he does, but he’s hard to read.

“I’ve noticed you are very diligent in your work.” You explain to him. “And this part is very difficult to master. I’d love it if you could double-check the work, especially if you end up working on a different part. I don’t want to call anyone lazy, but I’ve been told that we’ve consistently had trouble keeping up with the plan for these structures and I want everything to be okay. I-”

“It’s okay.” As always, the deep timbre of his voice surprises you. You wish he’d talk more often.

“Great. I’ll be here all day. And tomorrow too and the day after that as well. So you can come in whenever to let me know, okay?”

He nods, having used up all his words already. He leaves you shortly after, but not after an awkward pause where you try not to babble and he stares intently at the little pink bows adorning your stilettos.

You’re in the middle of unpacking your lunch Bento when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Aone’s face is smeared with dirt. His clothes are stained too, but his hands are clean as they offer you a piece of paper.

You take it and inspect it. He’s made a checklist for the area you mentioned. Your heart lurches at this careful work.

“Thank you!” You doubt your smile can express even half of your gratitude.

His ears are red. He’s probably gotten a sunburn from working outside all morning.

“Do you…” You hesitate. “Do you want to share lunch? It’s cooler in here and I wouldn’t mind.”

He looks at the pretty but uncomfortable chairs in front of your desk and back to his dirty, stained clothes.

“Don’t mind it.” You rush to say. “Please, sit. I will go and get something to drink from the machine outside.”

“Let me.” He says and you freeze, spellbound by his voice - again.

Soon you find yourself spilling your thoughts over eggrolls, rice and two cans of sparkling water.

You babble when you get nervous and he sure as hell makes you nervous.

“It’s so nice to have someone with me when I eat.” You tell him when he gets up, no doubt to leave for his work again. “I mean, I can eat alone, no problem, I do that at home too. I mean I have a kitten there, but he’s the quiet type. It just gets a little lonely around lunch when I have to work by myself all the time anyway. You probably don’t have that problem, because you’re so many workers all working together all day and then you have lunch break together too, but if you want to cool down for a bit, feel free to come up here for Lunch Break.”

“Thank you.” He interrupts your babbling, bowing so abruptly you’re left speechless - a rare occurence.

“Oh no, I have to thank you.” Now you’re bowing too and it’s only your colleague passing by that saves the two of you from bowing in turn until one gives up.

Kenji curls up on your lap that night as you tell him of your day.

He’d been a stray, a tiny ball of fur and teeth, only slowly learning that you did not mean any harm. He’s not the best listener, occasionally digging his claws into your thighs as he either disagrees with you or does not care about your opinion. But he’s yours and you’d be even lonelier without him.

You don’t see Aone for another week. Well, you spot him during morning briefings, a quiet presence at the back of the room, but you don’t come across him other than that until it’s Monday and you only find out that you’ve left your Lunch at home when it’s time to unpack it.

It’s pouring outside and you’re dressed for sunshine to the point that not even a borrowed umbrella will keep you warm or dry during the trek down to the Konbini and back again.

But going hungry is even worse.

You run into Aone right at the entrance, raindrops creating little patterns in the dirt on his face.

He holds a can of sparkling water in one hand and a Bento Box in his other.

“Oh, Aone. Hello!” You smile up at him. “Are you taking your Lunch inside? Do you want to come up to my Office? I’ve turned my heater on, actually, because I run cold easily.”

He looks down at the Umbrella in your hand.

“Oh, I forgot my Lunch at home. I’ll just run down to the Konbini and get some, but feel free to go up and get warm.”

His eyes travel down to your feet, where your painted nails peek out of a new pair of high-heeled sandals.

“What do you need?” He asks. “I am already wet.”

“Oh, I can’t.” He hands you the sparkling water. You take it, too surprised to refuse it. He takes your umbrella and hands you his Lunch.

“What do you need?” He repeats again. There’s something in his voice, at least that’s what it must be, that makes you open your mouth and answer.

He nods and turns to leave, leaving you behind with his Lunch and his drink.

There’s a blanket resting on one of the chairs. Aone is the only one who uses it, and drapes it over the chair to make sure he doesn’t get it dirty.

Aone is a lap cat. He wants to be asked, he wants to be offered. He does not ask himself.

You get his phone number so you can text him every day, letting him know what you’ll be taking for Lunch. He never stands up an invitation.

So you invite him to walk to the train station with you. He holds your umbrella, nodding along as you talk about your day.

“Where do you live, Aone-san?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek as you debate if that question is too forward. You don’t even know his first name yet, even though you long to.

You almost miss his answer, too absorbed in the sound of his voice. He does not live far from you.

“Are you taking the train as well? We could sit together.” His face changes into something that looks like disappointment.

“But we don’t have to!” You try to mend whatever mess you’ve just created.

“I have practice.”

“Practice?”

“Volleyball.”

“Ooooh! Can I come watch?”

The faintest blush covers his cheeks at your question. You’ve never seen it before, but you could get addicted to that sight.

“They would think you are my girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Your face burns as you realize what you’ve just divulged.

“I don’t mean- I wouldn’t ever pressure- You don’t have to feel-”

Aone interrupts your blabbering, but not with words. He stretches out his incredibly long arm, offers his hand to you in a wordless answer.

You take it, your heart beating so loud you fear he can hear it.

Aone is a lap cat.

Just like Kenji he craves your touch, your presence, being near you whenever he can.

But quite unlike Kenji, he does not mind when you roll over in your sleep and kick your leg into his shins. He does not dig his fingernails into your skin - and if he does, he does it lovingly.

He’s as much a quiet presence in your home as your cat, making lazy Sunday Mornings so much sweeter.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Dira writes #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu fluff #Aone x reader #Aone Takanobu #Aone fluff #Haikyuu Timeskip

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nibbelraz · 4 months

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Ooh, if we're discussing wild sqh theories I'd like to add mine! The reason why we never find out sqh's real world name is bc it's shang qinghua. And not bc he named the character after himself, but bc he has always been sqh. In pidw he was doing what he the character was supposed to, in svsss he doing what he can to save his life. Why else would he be transmirgated all the way back to his birth? Bc sqh is sqh. Idk if this is making sense Lol

I just mean that there was no one for him to replace. It's not like with shen jiu who had a life and story. There was no "other" sqh. I guess like a self insert? Like "if I lived in this world I would do xyz to influence the plot"? That's why there's no body for him to steal. It was always himself.

I think I understand what you mean! That's actually a really cool theory, and I'm totally on board because that would be a really nice thought especially when it aligns with the fact that why did Shang Qinghua have to go through from birth and not Shen Yuan

It also makes me think of like how Shang Qinghua assumed he would be acting like how he would in PIDW and of course he had to switch gears to survive but it makes me think of like when you think of how yourself will act in a certain scenario but then you're in that scenario and you react TOTALLY DIFFERENT

I think he might've overestimated how he would act when when actually faced with some plot points in svsss and underestimated some other elements, which is pretty interesting to think about!

They are one and the same

#also anyone else with SQH or MBJ theories or headcanons I definitely want to hear em!#svsss #shang qinghua #sqh #btw if i misinterpreted what you meant im sorry 😭#but also thinking about how SQH basically made PIDW SQH just himself also brings to light how even in a fantasy he didnt let himself be with #Mobei which was the character he made SPECIFICALLY FOR HIS TASTES!!!#like yeah this cna be because he needed to move the plot forward and they couldn't be together when he was catering to fans #but it can also be seen as how he didnt view himself worthy of having a husband like that fantasy or otherwise #this is just me rambling I like to think about SQH a lot #nib text #ask #my art #nibbelraz

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moonshine-nightlight · 6 months

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Thirty-Four

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 34

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six][Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] Part Thirty-Four [Part Thirty-Five]

“So,” he says, after a sip of tea, “where would you like to begin?”

“I’m not certain,” you admit. Your mind’s been spinning with questions for weeks and yet now that Dale is availing himself to said questions, you find it blank. You grasp for anything to start. Nothing comes to mind besides the very beginning.

“You said earlier… that the original Dale was killed in his summoning attempt?”

“Yes,” the demon inhabiting his body replies. He sets down his cup of tea. “He attempted a summoning ritual, planning to bind a powerful, but unintelligent demonic spirit to him so he might use its strength and other inhuman abilities for his own gain.” That tracked with what you would have expected the original Dale to want. He seemed to have contempt for both demons and his grandparents’ rules, while craving more power for himself.

You’re not surprised it went wrong either as Dale is clearing an intelligent demon. Even while traveling abroad from Northridge, the human Dale likely needed to be covert about his studies and plans. Given the host of misinformation out in the world, well, that probably led to some bad information. His own arrogance likely blinded him to that fact or he overestimated his ability to filter such misinformation out resulting in, well… Summoning demons is very dangerous.

“Unfortunately, he miscalculated in a number of ways,” Dale immediately confirms for you. “Such as how deep he threw his lure down into the portal he opened being the gravest as it meant he underestimated the vitality of his offering. Or rather, if he’d only gone as deep as he planned, it perhaps might have been sufficient. However, since he tried to go too deep, the offering was used up and he’d not set the proper parameters on the summoning circle to prevent an overreach demand.”

Your confusion must show on your face. This is all so far over your head. All your research since discovering this situation with Dale had been regarding what to do with a demon that was present, not how to find or bind one. You’re trying to follow along though and you’re sort of managing, even if you’ve no idea about the mechanics of how to do any of what Dale is describing.

Dale elaborates, “It needed more fuel to the fire so to speak in order to reach as deep as he specified, which was in error. After the offering, the closest source of potential energy was him. Not his body, but his—” Dale made a sound, a hissing air filled noise that you’d never be able to replicate “—, er, his life’s energy? I’m not too sure of the mechanisms myself to be honest. Most of what I know is gleaned from memories of humans who I’ve possessed and that knowledge is incomplete.”

“From what I can tell,” you offer, uncomfortable with speaking on something you’ve not studied deeply, but wanting to contribute something—or at least reassure Dale that you’re no expert nor expecting him to be one. Most of the studies you’ve had covered the Depths as part of history, not science. “There seem to be waves or cycles with knowledge of the Depths. There will be a build up of knowledge in one civilization, an increase in daily interaction between the planes, and then some big shift—a nation-wide purge, a crater where a city once was—wipes out a lot of that gained insight. The topic becomes taboo again, until slowly interest and tolerance builds once more.”

“Fascinating,” Dale says, leaning forward with rapt attention. “I’d not noticed, but I think you’re correct—the sources of information my hosts recall do seem to be clustered in certain years. The cycle isn’t obvious in the Depths because of how time is distorted.”

“I’d imagine so,” you say, enjoying how animated Dale is on the topic. You hope your intrigue is not obvious as you surreptitiously study the two additional eyes which have opened up on his forehead. They’re identical to Dale’s human eyes, despite their placement.

Dale leans back, perhaps you were too obvious, but the eyes do stay. “Something to be explored at a later date,” Dale says sheepishly, seemingly to have recalled his original train of an explanation. “There are some things that are common knowledge among demons—passed on and around as information does even with the Depths’ fractured communities. If a human is drained of energy, there is a small window of opportunity where a demon can leap into their body. We can give it a kick to get it moving again—reignite the spark of life and animation with our own.”

You’d heard of both types of possession–shared and solitary, but you never knew why or how they happened. You’re only grateful that the demon didn’t have to fight the original Dale–you feel guilty, but you can’t help but be glad you’ve only this Dale now.

He waves dismissively. “Of course you can possess a human body with the human’s energy still intact—you’ve met Two—but it's a much more delicate proposition. Often such a prospect involves a fight or negotiation. That’s why so many of the older cults would purposely use a human as an offering. Then the demon they wish to summon won’t have any trouble finding or possessing a vessel.” He again seems to get nervous with such mentions—as if you’ll suddenly remember that you should be afraid of him—and hastens on, “Anyways, there are also ways to do the reverse—to limit a casting, so if the offering is used up, it stops. Dale did not do that properly. He didn’t set the lure right either, which is why he didn’t attract demons that are more akin to animals than humans.”

“I suspected he might attempt something like this,” you admit, remembering your trepidation as the original Dale’s inability to conceal his anticipation had grown. “He was not subtle in his studies around anyone besides his grandparents, but I’m still horrified to think he did so in the estate. If anything went wrong—as it did—who knows who could have been hurt? Is there a way to limit the number of demons that can, can follow or catch the lure?” Your mind is filled with visions of multiple demons, with no regard for the humans already here or even merely not in control of themselves as many animal-like demons often were. It would be like suddenly having a pack of wolves in your bed chamber.

“There is and he managed that much,” Dale confirms and even though the casting is over a month ago, you still feel some relief that you weren't quite so close to complete chaos. “Once I had the lure, I merely had to keep hold of it as these are set to pull in the demon once one suiting the parameters comes into contact with it. He’d made—not noise—but something similar enough that there were a number of interested parties in the area. Luck made me one of the closest once he cast down.”

“But you’d come to see if the noise was a way to the Surface on purpose,” you guess, reading between the lines. You think back to the mood Dale had been in when he’d ‘recovered’ and was showing up to more than a meal an evening. He’d been happy. He’d wanted to be there.

“Yes,” Dale nods. “I’d been looking for the opportunity for long enough. It was a great relief to win the race and fight for the chance. I wasn’t going to let such a lucky circumstance slip through my fingers.”

“How many times had you been to the Surface before?” you ask, caught up so much information. He clearly knew a lot about summoning from Dale’s memories, his personal experiences—but possibly even from other humans. To want to be here strongly enough to fight for the chance he must have known what he was getting himself into—or been in such a rough spot in the Depths anything seemed better. You hoped it was the former.

“A few times,” Dale confirms. He leans back in his chair, his pupils darker in a fascinating way. Not larger, but deeper. You have to watch yourself so you don’t lean forward to see better, like you might find understanding if you fell into his eyes long enough. You force your gaze away and take a sip of tea.

“The first time was by accident,” Dale confesses. “A very skilled summoner from Anjou pulled me and a couple others up. Bound us to her soldiers. It was enough to let me see and experience what it was like here. And to start my fascination.” He shrugs. “Sure, I’d heard of the Surface and humans before, but I’d never seen anything or anyone.”

“It’s not pure darkness in the Depths—I’ve no notion how such rumors began up here—but there’s nothing like the sun and sunlight and its warmth.” He closes his eyes and turns his face towards the window, even though the sun is almost done setting. “Everything feels freer here somehow, less weighed down. As if I’d been moving through water or smog my whole life, in more ways than one—not that that’s quite right either.” He frowns at his inability to describe the experience and opens his eyes to meet yours with perfect accuracy. “My apologies, I seem to lack the vocabulary to explain some of the differences as the effects, the experiences, are not ones that translate well.”

You don’t think he’s giving himself enough credit. “No, no—I think I understand as well as I’d be able without going there myself.”

“I’m not sure you’d like it,” he immediately cautions. Before you can begin to reply that wasn’t what you meant, he’s already hurrying to deter you. “Do not misunderstand me, there are many parts of living in the Depths that I liked. Having my own body and not having to use a vessel. There’s a certain beauty in landscapes and locations that cannot exist here. Comfort in the familiarity of it all. Not to mention the lack of constant deception. However, I’m not certain you would enjoy it.”

“That’s alright,” you reassure him. I have no plans to visit the Depths–you just want Dale to stay here.

“Good, good. It’s…” Dale’s at a loss of words as he tries to convey whatever he wants to. “Well, it’s very dangerous, more wild.” You shiver at the thought, having only lived in cities or large estates in your life–tamed in a manner that you can tell Dale means the opposite to.

Dale frowns, glancing at you and out the window at the nearly set sun before going over to start a fire. You don’t clarify his misinterpretation because the light will be helpful to you, as you know Dale has excellent night vision. Besides, it's early enough in summer that nights can still carry a chill.

Dale continues to talk as he arranges the logs, his voice clear despite his facing away and crouching down, “There are far more animals, for lack of a better word, than intelligent beings. And the intelligent demons are very territorial, in tight-knit clans that exclude outsiders, or in family groups, or solitary. None of these larger communities like humans, with their travel and attempts at civil interaction.”

“What sort are you from?” you can’t help but ask. He seems to enjoy being part of Northridge. He’d talked weeks ago of it as his ‘territory’ but you noticed he hasn’t mentioned anyone else. No one person was mentioned as an aspect of the Depths that he misses.

He straightens up from the fire, picking up his cup of tea for a drink. “That’s complicated.” He sets down the cup holds up his right hand as he explains, “One of my parents was pure shade, but they had been injured defending their territory. During that time they met an ambyani who’d left her family territory to make her own and had settled next to their territory.” He holds up his other hand to represent that parent, before frowning at your blank stare at the word.

You know there are many races of demons, far more varied than any humans are from one another. Some are more famous—infamous— than others. You’ve never heard that word before.

“Ambyani would remind you of humans in a broad sense—most intelligent demons have a form that’s similar enough to humans—but with features that would bring to mind salamanders and birds.” You nod, which you limit yourself to only because you can tell Dale has other things to say besides simply continuing to describe such a creature in greater detail as you wish he would. You wonder if he’s any talent for drawing that he might better illustrate what they would look like. “A courtship developed between them over the years. Eventually they became mates and began to have children.”

Does he mean his parents courted for years before marrying? Perhaps he is interested in such things, but merely expects a longer time frame. You can’t decide whether or not that makes you hopeful or dismayed, so you focus elsewhere. “So different races of demons can have children together?” you ask, even though you suppose he’d already told you as much. You’d grown up hearing about all sorts of demons—wild and strange in so many ways. They seemed too different to be able to have children together.

“Yes, although not always easily and often in adapted manners,” Dale replies. He fidgets, looking as if he’s going to start pacing again, before he sits instead. “The offspring tend to be a mix of parental traits, although the level of influence varies. For example, when a human has children with a possessed human, it is as though the child has three parents, with traits from all, but will end up primarily human because there is more influence from humans. Demons have overlap in their traits, even when different races, and those common traits show up more prominently in offspring.”

You try to absorb what he’s saying about demons, but your mind is a little stuck on the human part, since it's most applicable to you. Another problem for another time, you try to remind yourself. After all, it's not like that information is likely to be relevant to anything happening tonight. Forcibly, you remind yourself that Dale is attempting to explain his own parentage, which you do want to know about and which might help you learn more about him. You’re not sure if your mind can believe that having control over shadows is like hair color, but perhaps it was for demons.

“Shades spawn in swarms with or without partners,” Dale says, not having noticed your mind briefly get off on the wrong track, “while ambyani lay eggs.” You can’t help but notice neither of those methods is how humans reproduce. You try desperately not to picture what mating or sex would be like between such different demons if only because you want to keep listening to Dale. “It can be harder to reproduce between very different races, but my parents were able to raise a clutch with deliberate action, all of whom inherited from both parents.” You’re nodding until he says, “I was not one of them.”

“What do you mean?” Were those two not his parents after all?

“Myself and a handful of other siblings were formed on accident, with a greater portion of shade than ambyani,” Dale says, still not filling in many of the gaps to your mind. You didn’t want to interrupt him with more questions about how that happened in case he was talking around the exact circumstances on purpose. “As such, we grew up as shade do, wandering about in large swarms. We did combine and recombine with less frequency than usual due to our mother’s contribution.”

“But a swarm of bats or a flock of birds are still separate animals,” you can’t help but point out. “You’re saying that shade young are not fully separate?”

“Correct, usually a swarm solidifies into one shade after time passes, if they survive.” Dale sounds wistful as he explains, “However, rather than eventually dying off entirely, being subsumed by a larger swarm, or forming one shade being, we solidified into a group of siblings when younger than is typical for boundaries like that to form. Because we wandered as young shade do, we had strayed far from our parents' territory. We traveled throughout different demons’ territories, never able to stay long and always in danger from predators. Once old enough, we decided to find our parents. I was the only one to survive the journey home.”

Your heart goes out to Dale and you can see that he feels the loss of his siblings at such a young age. You can’t even imagine it. “I’m so sorry.”

Dale smiles sadly. “Thank you.” He fidgets in his chair before standing up. Waving his hand, he tries to downplay the loss, “It’s a blur, to be honest—little moments stick out but I was very young. Still, I missed them and being part of a family. I was quite eager to join my parents.” You’ve got a sinking feeling in your gut, given how Dale is and the sad tone this story has taken, that his eagerness may have been misplaced. “Unfortunately, by the time I returned, I had grown enough that my parent thought I was an unrelated shade, looking to steal their territory and family. I was able to communicate who I was eventually, but they never fully trusted me.”

You wrap your hand around the low footboard of the bed to resist the urge to comfort him with an embrace. He seems too full of nervous energy to appreciate it and this conversation, while relatable in some ways, is also throwing in your face how different you are. Perhaps he wouldn’t want a hug, even if you want to give him one. “Why not?”

Dale sighs, leaning against the vanity. He looks older, more tired. “Between growing away from them and how we—I—was formed, my mother felt there wasn’t enough ambyani in me. She barely believed I was hers. My parent saw me as too shade to be trusted—family means very little to them on its own. He could never truly be convinced I was not a rival to him. My other siblings were quite different from me and followed their lead.” All of Dale’s extra eyes have vanished and the shadows are very still around. His voice is clipped as he says, “After an incident, I realized it’d be best if I struck out on my own.”

You’re not sure what sort of incident he could mean, but given his parents distrust it could have been anything. People looking for a threat tend to find one, no matter how warranted. “Oh, Dale.” He shrugs and turns to stare into the fire, the light casting strangely deep shadows on his face. He barely looks like his namesake in this moment. He looks too far from human.

You want to shake him from this melancholy. It’s not the same, but you know what it's like to feel like a stranger, someone outside looking in, in your own home and with your own family. Your age difference would have been enough to do that to some extent, nevermind your illness. But your parents and siblings had always been around, had always known you were family. Now here Dale is once more outside of his ‘family’, a demon among humans. He had very little from his original identity he could reveal, even if you hope sharing with you will help. The thought occurs to you and you tentatively ask, “I suppose that reminds me of another question, do you wish for me to call you by another name?”

“Hm?” He half turns towards you, but continues to look so clearly inhuman. It's fascinating what light and shadow can do to change a person.

You’re not scared of him, but you are somewhat intimidated by the gap in your experiences. By how much you still don’t know of him as even this basic question demonstrates. “I only meant for when we’re alone, of course. But you must have a name besides ‘Dale’?” As soon as you clarify, you start to second guess yourself. What did you know of demons and their naming conventions? You’ve heard tell that names mean something to them. Or that they use them differently? But what was rumor or fact, you’ve no notion.

“Oh!” Dale turns fully away from the fire, looking startled, and it seems to shock him back to looking fairly human. His eyes, only the two at the moment and in the proper place, still must be the hardest to control. They still seem to have a glimmer of firelight in them. As he recovers from his surprise, he appears to give the question a brief few seconds of thought before shaking his head. “No, I don’t mind Dale.” You breathe out a sigh of relief that you hadn’t accidentally offended him. He continues, “We didn’t have names as such in the Depths, not permanent ones. Names, however someone was referring to you, were to reflect who you were in a context. In this context, I am Dale of Northridge.”

“If you’re happy with that,” you reassure him, even as he gets up to make himself a fresh cup of tea, “then I’m pleased to continue to call you ‘Dale’.” You hand him another packet of tea and he refills your own cup with fresh hot water. “I just want to make sure you’re aware you can share things with me, as yourself.”

“Thank you, sana.” His smile is small, full of sharp teeth, and quite sincere. “I believe I’m starting to get that through my mind,” Dale says as he salutes you with his fresh cup of tea. “It merely seems so novel. Humans are so fearful of the Depths and demons, which is not unwarranted.”

He frowns thoughtfully at you, pausing as he stirs his tea. He squints, a third eye mimicking the motion. “You’re quite smart, and compassionate, and—well, cautious isn’t quite right. Deliberate? Hm.” You wait with bated breath for whatever else he might say of your character. You’ve been wondering how he truly saw you for so long, what he made of such a silly human, and yet he seems far too complementary. “What I mean to say is that you are very sensible and that seems at odds with, well, this,” he motions between the two of you. “Your reaction to me when compared with others. I admit I still do not fully understand it.”

“I’m pleased you think I’m sensible,” you say before frowning because while you’re flattered, you also don’t want Dale to have a false image of you in his head. “But I don’t truly think I am. Sensible, that is. I mostly just see myself as a worrier, but it’s true that I worry a similar amount about what others might see as inconsequential or as monumental.” You shrug helplessly, trying to articulate what you mean. “I think I’m just better at pretending, or rather… I grew up oddly, because of my illness and isolation, in a manner such that the things others saw as mundane were far more to me. And now that I am healthier, I think sometimes because my mind has elevated the ordinary to extraordinary, I don’t find the strange so strange, or the risk as risky.” You wander back to the bed and sit down as you try to pull your thoughts into order.

“It’s true, marrying a demon is risky,” you’ve never actually said it out loud. The closest you came was with Steward Bilmont. It does sound incredibly foolish, even with Dale patiently waiting for you to keep talking, the picture of normalcy—baring the now three additional eyes. “But so is marrying anyone, to some extent. Certainly so is marrying an ambitious lordling who dabbles in forces he overestimates his abilities in. I knew what he was like when we entered into our betrothal, but considered it a price I’d pay, a risk I’d take. I wanted to attempt to run a fief and have a family of my own where my decisions held weight. My other options had not had such possibilities.”

You think back to when you figured out what was going on and what Dale was. What you wanted to do. “You were a new player to account for, but I already knew Dale wasn’t a prize himself. You could have been anything—for good or ill—and Dale was already part of the marriage to bear, not what I was looking forward to. Given the other alternatives, I thought seeing if you would at least be as tolerable as him would be worth the risk. If it did not work out well, I would deal with it then.” You shrug helplessly. “I think I’m just too stubborn by half and twice as foolhardy. A month ago, when this part of everything began, seems so long ago. But I’m very happy with where we are now and with you.”

“Is that so?” Dale can’t seem to help himself from asking.

“Yes.” Luckily telling him so gets easier every time.

He leans forward to peer at you, unblinking in his examination. Your breath catches in your chest as you wait him out.

“So strange, you really seem to mean it.” He looks away to stir his tea.

You find you’ve leaned towards him and are in danger of falling off the bed. You hurriedly hoist yourself back a sensible distance so you don’t look quite so eager. Hopefully by the time he looks back at you the heat in your cheeks can be blamed on the fire and tea.

“Some humans have used me as a tool, others a weapon. Some were civil about it, others were not—whether using bribery or punishment to attempt to deal with me. None dealt with me as an equal.” He says so casually enough it takes an additional second for the pang of sorrow for his sake to hit you.

He looks back up, that earnest light in his eyes. “Despite all that, I still wanted so badly to be here. After the first taste, I tried to learn everything I could of the Surface. I’d not managed to join a new clan or other group by then, so I started trying to mark out my own territory in the shallows. Where I might see more of the Surface. I even attempted to find a way to go it alone up here, but shades are just a bit too… delicate? We need an anchor—a vessel—or we fade.”

“So you focused on humans who cut holes into the Depths,” you surmise, even if you feel a pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him without Dale’s human body, on his own. You wonder if the brief glimpses you saw during his fight with Two were close to what he looked like naturally. Maybe you could still see some of what he was underneath.

“Precisely,” Dale replies. “I learned better how to spot the lures humans dropped, how to tell who they were aimed at and how powerful the one casting them was and so on. Not that I was always correct in my estimation and there are others—other demons—who want to go to the surface as well. Even ones who might be able to in their own forms tend to still prefer to travel up a line a human dropped to ascend. Competition was fierce.”

You try to think of what to ask, without making it obvious you want to know everything he could tell you. Hopefully he would, eventually, but what did you want to know tonight? “Were there any other journeys here that you thought might have been what you wanted?”

Dale frowns before he slowly nods. “One. Time moves differently between the planes and matters less in the Depths, passes differently too so I can’t say for certain how long ago it was. Decades on the Surface,” he settles on, “but less than one below.” He sighs and there’s a little whistle to it that makes it sound more like the wind than a human letting out some breath. The whistle is eerie and pretty at the same. You want to know what other sounds Dale can make. “It did not work out as I’d hoped, but it was the closest I’d come.”

This is the most wistful you think you’ve ever heard Dale and you are so eager to learn more. “What happened?”

“You truly wish to know?” Dale’s not arguing with you, but you can see he doesn’t understand your interest in this. You’d thought this is what he wanted to share, but maybe he was expecting questions more along the lines of the specifics of what he is or what his plans are. After this morning and the wedding, you’re not nearly as anxious about that as you were yesterday. You don’t need reassurances he’s not going to hurt you or leave. You merely want to know him better.

“It has no bearing on the current state of affairs. I promise I’ve no desire for another life,” Dale reiterates, looking earnestly at you. “As I said, this was the finest stroke of luck I’ve ever come across.”

You can’t help but smile because honestly, his arrival ended up being a pretty perfect stroke of good luck for you too. “I believe you,” you reply, hoping to soothe him. You’re not deterred. “But these events had an impact on you, did they not? A strong impact.”

“Yes,” he allows. “They did.”

“I only want to get to know you,” you say, hoping your unadorned words will help him understand you.

“Very well.”

You frown at his continued reluctance. “If you do not wish to tell the tale, I’ve no desire to force you.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, his hand brushing some of the hair that’s escaped his tie back from his face. “It might clarify some of my actions to you.” You still are not convinced he wants to speak to you of this. You can have patience. You open your mouth to say so, but Dale admits, anticipating your words, “And I’ve never had the opportunity to tell this story to anyone. So if you wish to listen, I will gladly tell of it.”

You are getting better at reading him after all, you realize, be cause you believe him. You relax back onto the bed. “Yes, please.”

“It was in Khinat, though the group was not entirely from there,” Dale says, setting the scene. The far off look is back in his eyes, the shadows’ movements more rhythmic than the typical chaos from a fire. “They were a band of thieves, who wanted to steal, well, a number of precious items from a palace.” He gives one slow blink, as if giving you a second to object to such criminal behavior. As if you weren’t aware most dabbling in demonology that weren’t scientists were mercenaries and the like. You doubt he had much choice in the matter and theft was always more palatable to you than harm caused unto others—not that they couldn’t overlap.

When you only wait patiently, Dale continues, “They wanted more than human advantages on their side. Their caster bound myself and two others to three of their fellows. My vessel, he did first. He’d not been sure of how much energy it would take to get the depths he wanted and so he had that human written in as a secondary sacrifice. Sure enough, he’d not provided enough energy and the human’s life energy was drained in the summoning process. It was the first time I’d been in a vessel with no mind to compete with beyond memories.”

“That caster had been a foul man, callous and arrogant,” Dale flexes one of his hands angrily at the memory before clenching it into a fist. “He bound me tight in that body. The other two demons he summoned were controlled by their humans with excessive strength. One human was able to handle it properly. The other was not and did survive to the end of the quest. The one who survived kept the demon bound to him as his reward while I was told that I could have the human body and my freedom if I cooperated. I saw this as a great opportunity, even if I disliked most of the other members of the group."

“I can understand why," you acknowledge. It was obviously more appealing for Dale to not have to share a body, even if it meant someone else died—at least it was not by his own actions. It certainly painted the humans involved in a negative light, cruel to sacrifice someone in such a test and then use their body after their death. And while you know demons can be violent too, this manner of binding stinks of slavery to you. "Even if they sound like a reprehensible crew."

“Yes. There was one who had been, not captured as the one who became my vessel had been, but coerced to a high degree,” Dale says. You sit up straighter at the gentler tone that has entered his voice. "She was the appraiser—the one who could tell the decoy artifacts from the genuine. Rather than wait until after the heist, the leader compelled her to join with a combination of bribery and threats. She needed the money, and wished to keep her life, and so complied."

Dale seems to be lost in his memory and so you only need to nod to prompt him to continue.

"I performed reconnaissance and scouting. She utilized that information to ensure we had the correct targets. We became close over the time spent together, preferring each other's company to the rest," Dale's voice gets even softer and you hate the insecurity it sparks through you because you can see where this is heading. You don't like discovering you're a jealous spouse—you hadn't been with the original Dale, but then again, you'd not truly wanted him, or wanted him to want you, the way you did with this Dale. "She knew the terms of my service, that I would get only my freedom and nothing more, so she invited me to return with her to her hometown and then beyond. She was taking this payment and leaving her life in the city behind. A fresh start for both of us, she said.”

You could see why such a prospect appealed to Dale, and possibly even to this woman, who sounded like she had found herself in far over her head. You’re waiting though, balanced on the edge of a cliff, because you know by virtue of Dale standing here with you, that this story will not end well.

"It was the longest I'd been on the surface for and had full control,” Dale says, lost in the memories. “I learned and enjoyed as much as I could, even under the circumstances.”

You can picture Dale, not having to hide his nature with the crew, and testing his limits with the same eager attitude he sometimes displayed.

“Not that the lessons learned from the rest of the group were useless,” Dale adds, coming back to the present somewhat. “I’ve been applying some of those skills recently to the investigation into the assassins.”

You blink, pulled out of Dale's story. "You have?”

"Yes," Dale says, as if still worried what you might think of this part of his past. Like he wants to show he's useful beyond his impersonation of Dale, which has never something you needed convincing on. "Of course, I’ve been trying to pull what useful information I can from Dale’s memories, his knowledge, of his network of informants, and so on, but I do know something on my own of information gathering, of meeting with unsavory characters and how they operate. Ensuring those I have contact with can and cannot tell I am Dale as appropriate."

"I'm glad you've had the experience because I don't know where I would have begun," you admit because you are and you want him to know that you value what responsibilities he’s taken on. "My family might help if I had asked, but they are busy with their own matters. I certainly have no network of contacts, especially not for figuring out who might have hired assassins."

"Yes, well, you would not have acted in a manner that would prompt someone to send assassins after you."

You smile at the affront you hear in Dale's voice. "I'm glad you think so. I don't think if you'd been Dale at the time that you would have either."

Dale gives you a lopsided smile. "I'm pleased you think so, but I'm not so certain. There's still much I'm learning and my experience, my loaned memories—they are not always the correct preparation. I'm grateful to your aid and Grandmother and Grandfather for their clear expectations. Besides, as you've pointed out—rightfully so—my control still needs fine-tuning. Within Northridge, that’s the greater concern.”

While you've worried over the same thing yourself these weeks, here in this room—with Dale, and honesty, and your marriage—you no longer feel like that’s a true looming threat. “Now that we can work together, I’m certain we can prevent that from happening.”

“Thank you for your confidence,” Dale says, pleased. “I’ve simply never been able to stay and so inherently find the prospect hard to trust in.”

“I’d imagine so,” you reply. “From your story, it seemed like a true possibility, but you weren’t able to stay, were you?”

“No,” Dale sighs. “It was a lovely month—my longest stay until now. We did succeed to the leader’s satisfaction and he paid us both as promised. Even the journey to her home was uneventful. At first. That’s when it all fell apart.”

Even knowing that something was going to go wrong, it still made your heart clench at the despair in Dale’s voice. That he was here now, meant that he couldn’t have stayed then, and you selfishly want to be the one—want this life to be the one—that makes him happy. You still hurt for the hope you can see he had and lost.

“While I thought she understood my situation,” Dale continues, “it turns out she had not.” You frown, what did he— “She thought I was like the other two, a human sharing a body with the demon, except that I hadn’t asked for it the way the other two had. She thought freedom meant the caster had rid me of the demon, not that I was the demon being given a body. She thought she’d been talking with a human the entire time.”

Oh, your first thought is once you’ve digested that, no wonder he hadn’t thought you knew. He’d deceived this other woman by accident. Perhaps that is even why he seemed so careless—why he’d called humans oblivious. He’d said before he’d been testing his limits of what he could do and she’d still not caught on. She must have been shocked, particularly if her experience with demons had been tainted by the other members of the group. “Oh, oh no.”

Dale nods, resigned sorrow in the lines of his face, aging him. “When I finally realized what was happening, I told her the truth.” His voice flattens, “She did not take it well. Refused to believe me at first. She was angry and unsettled and—but then,” the corners of his mouth lift in a facsimile of a smile, “she seemed to accept that I had been myself the entire time. That our relationship was genuine. She was a little more standoffish, more hesitant, than before but she was a good person. Forgiving. She still wanted me to come home with her. She didn’t abandon me.” You can hear a lot in that statement, thinking back on his family.

“I thought given time,” Dale continues softly, “she would be able to accept me. And so I followed her home, right into an exorcism.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but get to your feet. Carefully, you approach Dale. He watches you with wary eyes, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t ask you to stop. “She’d written home ahead of time,” he blurts out and you reach out your hand to entwine your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. You know he can appreciate this much at least. “Her mother, a sanctif, set everything up. She believed I’d deceived her purposely and was still attempting to use her to some nefarious end. I was shoved back down into the Depths within the day.”

“Dale…” You say, running your free hand down his arm in what you hoped was a comforting gesture, but you’ve no idea what else to say. No wonder he hadn’t believed you knew.

“I thought I was so clear with who I was!” Dale exclaims, looking frustrated and sad. The shadows flicker, and his teeth grow sharp, and his hair seems to have burst from its tie entirely. His fingers stay entangled with your own and his grip is so light. It’s primarily you holding on to him. “And she was so kind, so understanding. We’d known each other for weeks. She saw me—”

He cuts himself off with a frustrated growl. You feel the sound through the close air between you and through his body. You don’t know how to make him feel better. Had he said he’d never even spoken to anyone of this? It all must be so bottled up inside him. You hope talking about, telling you, is releasing some of the pressure. You want to pull him into an embrace so badly, but you don’t think he wants much more contact than this.

He inhales, a shiver that goes through his entire body before he stills. He pulls his inhuman influence back into himself that the room seems more static than before, like a painting of a room instead of a true one—Dale, a statue. He looks down at you with his glowing blue eyes, only two of them, and mostly looks forlorn. “And she was convinced that she did what had to be done, I could see it, once trapped. The righteousness in her. Looking back, I should have realized her concerns over what we were doing, how the demons were used by the other humans—she had been disgusted with the use of them, of me. I simply thought it was the binding, the control over another, she disagreed with. In the end, I think she was a purist, who thought none should cross the planes and all should stay in their own realm.”

It was a popular belief, one that waxed and waned throughout the centuries but never truly went away. You sigh and keep your hand on Dale’s arm, not his cheek. “I’ve heard of that school of thought. I’ve never studied much about the planes or demons, not enough to have a strong opinion. I know there is a lot of danger when realms mix, but I also think that those are the instances everyone hears about because if there are demons here or humans Below that are doing just fine, well, there’s nothing to say or hear about, is there?”

Dale relaxes at your every word, at the way you continue to hold his hand, stay close—not move an inch from his side. “Yes, that’s my stance as well.” He frowns, “Do not misunderstand me, there are plenty of dangerous individuals who are a perilous risk to all around them, regardless of where they are and what they are. Demons have done serious harm on the Surface, but humans have been to the Depths and done damage too.”

That’s not something you’d considered, though you’ve heard tales and speculation of those who ventured there. You know Dale knows this, but he must feel so defensive given the attitudes of so many, including that woman and his grandparents.

“In the end, I can only speak for myself. And I wish to live here.”

You take his other hand in yours and clasp them both. “You do live here now. We’ll work together to make sure it stays that way. I can help so much better now that we are on the same page, I promise.”

“Thank you, sana,” Dale replies warmly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “I now know you’ve already been doing more than I ever expected. I admit I didn’t entirely follow all of what you said about what aid you have provided over this past month—besides the holy water. I take it that now it was your intention to be the primary target?”

“Yes, I didn’t know Grandfather had holy water,” you admit with a shrug “but the gesture, the fall… It struck me as suspect so I reacted without thinking.”

“How else have you helped?” he asks, heartfelt gratitude in his voice. “I have done my best, but I’m still learning. Dale’s memories—my own from my other visits—are a great aid, but I can’t always understand why certain things are done or what human limits are. I estimate the correct action as well as I can and hope small slips do not arouse too much suspicion.” He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“I imagine so, I would never be able to maintain any such deceit of my own person.” The very idea of spending the rest of your life pretending to be someone you’re not is exhausting, but somehow helping Dale do the same seems so much more manageable. “I’m happy to aid you.”

“When else have you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Dale insists. “If I’m far more oblivious than I’m beginning to suspect, you need not enumerate all such instances if you’d prefer to go to sleep at some point tonight.”

You smile at his self-deprecating joke, but you’re not one to boast of your own accomplishments and you’ve no desire to make Dale feel worse—your reaction this morning had been quite enough. “I…” You want to fidget but you don’t want to let go of Dale’s hands. “I tried to help where I could as an unfamiliar person to give you time to work through your memories. Then as you said, your control isn’t perfect. Most of what I did was merely misdirecting others from noticing additional eyes, strange shadows, hungry shadow tails with a penchant for cheese.” You give him a significant look at that one and he looks mischievously unrepentant.

“I get hungry!” he defends himself. “I need a lot of fuel to keep myself and this body running smoothly.”

“Clearly,” you reply dryly, although you note it for later. “Other than that, some of Grandfather’s attempts to prove I’d cursed you were aimed at me, but some were aimed at both of us or were in danger of affecting both of us. You managed the High Sanctif fine on your own, but I did ensure we were away from Dr. Louisa and Grandfather after you touched her detecting gloves.”

“Her what?” Dale asks, baffled and curious. An additional eye opens below one of the usual ones, already trained on you.

“She’d just given a demonstration before you and Grandfather joined us. Your hands were stained due to some substance she developed.”

“Oh.” All his eyes blink. “Now that you say so, I did notice a bit of a stain when I retired for the evening, but I thought that was from ink. No wonder I couldn’t recall when it had happened.”

“Quite.” You search your mind, for other instances, feeling strange laying them out after working so hard to conceal them. “I tried to help you gauge your strength with the games before the tournament so you did draw suspicion with the jousting itself. Not telling everyone what else I saw of you during the fight with the assassins wasn’t a challenge—especially since I didn’t see that much as it was. I did try to ensure I helped treat your injuries first, in case you needed the time to regain your control or were injured in some inexplicable manner.”

“I appreciate that, sana,” Dale says with a warm smile and an emphasis on your ‘healer’ nickname, “but I did make sure not to return until I was entirely human, knowing I might be under heightened scrutiny. In some ways it was easier that night since I was tired from having used so much of my demon attributes in the fight and chase. Too tired and I’ll get sloppy—that’s why I only was in public for short periods right after taking control of Dale’s body—but there’s a sweet spot, or so it seems.”

“I’m relieved you’ve managed as well as you have then,” you reply with a crooked smile, “even without exhausting yourself.”

“Still, obviously I have not been doing as well as I’d presumed.” Dale frowns, “My sense of what humans will notice is obviously skewed. I’d appreciate your help in—”

A crackle and pop from the fire as a log shifts and falls in the pile cuts Dale off. He lets out a strange noise, a growl but lower register and more of a continuous, less rough sound. Like a hiss. The shadows writhe around him. He lets go of your hands to put himself between you and the fire, one shadow in particular shoots out like another limb or a tail to wrap loosely around your shoulders, the end of it facing the danger.

Hearting beating wildly from the noise and Dale’s reaction, you try to calm your breathing. “Just the fire,” you say, then fear creeps down your spine. “Right?”

Dale looks at the fireplace for an extra second, before he deflates, pulling back in on himself. “Yes.” He looks at you cautiously, as if wondering if you’ll judge him for overreacting or for showing so much of himself when you were just discussing how he needed to do better at just that. “I apologize. My form is quite instinctive.”

“It’s alright.” You place your hand on Dale’s upper arm, turning him back towards you. “I think we’ve both been on edge these last few days.” You want to get back to where you were, sharing and together. You want him calm once more because he deserves to be after the journey to get here. “What do you mean by instinctive?” you ask, wanting to know more, wanting to figure out the right way to tell him that it was okay. You didn’t mind. His inhuman traits might still surprise you, but they never frighten you. He’s mesmerizing and thrilling and so much more than human. It's actually one of your favorite things about Dale.

He takes a measured breath, clearly wanting to follow you back to normality. Well, normality for you two. “While anchored to this body, my essence is still mine to command as well. It flexes and forms according to my desires and instincts as it did when I was only a shade. I try to keep that within or hidden, however...

You wait with baited breath, so interested in anything to help you understand the most obviously inhuman part of him.

“If I am curious, I create more eyes with which to observe. If I need more reach, I grow more limbs.” His lips quirk, as if remembering what you said earlier, “If I am hungry, more mouths.” You smile in recognition. Dale continues, a frown you recognize as one where he’s trying to translate what this means for him into meaning you can parse, “In many ways, trying to control such manifestations is anathema. Attempting to maintain a neutral facial expression when someone is trying to make you laugh.”

“I see.” It’s a helpful comparison. You remember the games you played in your dorm—including that one. Everything thinking of ridiculous or scandalous things to say in order to make the others break and laugh. It also makes his reaction of putting himself between you and potential danger all the sweeter. “Then perhaps I have not given you credit for the control you do have.”

“I’m sure you’ve given me precisely the credit I deserve,” Dale says wryly, some stress leaving him as he speaks. “It sounds like this is the aspect of my deception you’ve helped most with and I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful to be here, with you.”

“Me too.” You stare up at him, feeling the firm muscle of his arm under your hand, the tightly wound tension still present despite your attempts at reassurance and distraction. You want to truly take his mind away from everything, more than you want that for yourself. You want to relieve the stress you’ve both been under, enjoy what you now have. You want to make Dale not just grateful for not being betrayed, but truly happy—with you.

A clock strikes the hour, obvious as it breaks the silence between you. Dale steps back, picking up his forgotten cup of tea. “It’s getting late, I don’t mean to keep you awake after such an eventful day.”

“I’m not—” you start to protest before cutting yourself off. If Dale wanted a polite path out of tonight’s typical obligations, you should let him. You muster up a small smile, hoping what disappointment and frustration you feel reads as exhaustion. “Yes, I suppose it has certainly been a long day.”

You walk over to the tea table to put down your cup, gathering your leftover supplies. Telling yourself you’re not stalling in the hopes he changes his mind and wants you as a spouse and not simply a confidant, however much you’re enjoying being one to him.

As you move, you’re uncomfortably aware of your chemise. Despite being soft and well made as it is, you feel awkward in your nightclothes. A pretty, but slipshod attempt to make this night something Dale never wanted. He’s still in his waistcoat, for star’s sake.

The garter you’ve on around your thigh is the most uncomfortable and you try to remember if your maid had actually tied it with a purity knot. With a pang, you recall her checking it was still tight when she helped you out of your other clothes after arriving here. Surely, you could figure it out on your own despite its supposed notoriety for being unable to be done by a person who can’t see the knot itself. That’s why it was tradition to do up a betrothed’s garter with it.

But what if you couldn’t? What would be worse? To ask Dale for his help now so you might leave with some dignity after it was undone? Or to leave and have to return for his aid then? No, worst would be to do neither and have your maid be the one to untie it in the morning and know you weren’t enticing enough to tempt your husband into doing so himself.

Regretfully, you turn around, back to where you’d been sitting earlier. “Before I go to bed,” you start, lifting your foot to place it on the ottoman at the foot of his bed.

“What are you doing?” Dale cuts you off, his voice raising in alarm at the end of his sentence when you begin lifting the hem of your chemise.

You give him the driest look you can manage, hoping it hides your embarrassment. “It’s our wedding night, Dale. No one else knows we’re discussing your inhuman nature. They’ll assume we were occupied elsewise. And they’ll ask you about it.”

“Ask—,” Dale sounds personally offended, as if he’s forgotten how certain people will act—because they’re nosey or crude or lack tact. “Not in any sort of—,” he stops and starts again, staying rooted to where he stands instead of making himself useful. “You don’t need to—”

“The garter was tied with a purity knot,” you cut him off before he can continue to prove all your communication issues are not over by not taking a hint and damaging your ego at the same time. You try to remind yourself of all the compliments he’s paid you instead reading into the look of mild panic on his face now when confronted by the mere sight of your bare leg. “I need your help taking it off.”

“You do?” his voice sounds a bit weak, almost reluctant, and you swallow down another wave of disappointment and embarrassment.

“It was tied very tightly and specifically,” you say, grateful your voice, while a little strained, is otherwise close enough to how it typically sounds. “I can’t manage the knot, especially since it’s behind me. You should probably have it regardless.”

Dale blinks and some of his frozen posture thaws. He has that look you’ve seen multiple times, especially in the last few hours—he’s remembered some bit of human knowledge. Hopefully, he chalks this whole experience up to an oddity of humanity and nothing further. “Of course, yes. I don’t know how I forgot about this. One of my cousins tried to convince me to wear one as well this very morning—Grandfather didn’t leave me alone once I told him I would be getting married after all.”

You have to work hard to keep your facial expression from showing how pleasing you find the image of Dale with a matching yellow garter on his leg that you would have gotten to carefully untie, like a present on Midwinter.

He walks over to you, less nervous, but still cautious. You resume pulling your chemise up, hoping he doesn’t think this is some sort of deliberate seduction—caught between hoping you don’t look foolish and wishing he at least found you somewhat pleasing.

Carefully, you hold up the hem to just above the garter, the lace feeling even tighter to your skin. You have to suppress a shiver when you see Dale’s eyes on your bared skin. He reaches for you, a single finger twirling in the dark blue ribbon—which matches his own suit. His eyes dart up to your own for a split second, his pupils already noticeably dark and blown wider. You know they don’t react like humans do, and probably only mean he’s trying to see in better detail, but you feel goosebumps break out across your skin.

He finally grasps the garter itself and gives a little tug to turn it so the knot is towards the front. It’s tight enough that he moves your leg more than the garter. You murmur an apology, one hand on the low footboard of the bed to try to hold yourself steady.

He shakes his head, waving off your apology. “Why on the Surface is this so tight? My apologies for not helping you with it sooner.”

Your own dismissal of his apology is cut short when he wraps the fingers of his right hand around your upper calf, right below your knee and tries again to turn the garter. His grip is strong and unyielding, keeping you in place for him to work and making desire pulse through you at the obvious display of strength. He gives up when the garter’s only made a quarter turn. Since he’s at your side, that must be helpful enough.

You swallow down a bereft noise when he lets go of your calf to use both fingers on the laces. Carefully, he pulls out the ties’ ends from where they were woven back into the garter—another reason they’re hard to undo by oneself. Then he sets to work on the knot itself, his fingers continuously brushing your skin as he tugs and pulls.

He’s so close to you like this, practically looming over you, crowding you against this end of the bed. It would be so easy to fall and bring him with you, on top of you. A knot of a sort twists itself between your legs from his proximity and his touch. You desperately want him to untangle that one too.

He leans closer to see better and it's so unfair. Why has the universe let you get so close to what you want but left you unable to grasp it?

Dale’s noise of triumph causes you to look back down at him as he slides the garter down and, with even more room, off. “There we go,” Dale says, his voice low and soft, with a little bit of smug pride at having finished his task. Before you can lower your leg, he hisses in sympathy. You look down to see lines pressed into your skin, a stark reminder of where the garter had been.

You can feel blood flowing back into that area and it hurts more than it had before Dale had untied the garter. Dale reaches back out for you and rubs his fingers over the marks. “This must have hurt, my apologies once more.”

You shake your head as you fight to keep your eyes from fluttering in appreciation of Dale’s strong fingers massaging that part of your upper thigh back to life. “Thank yo—” you cut yourself off with a gasp when Dale’s fingers drift to the inside of your thigh, which is far more sensitive—not to mention how much closer it begins Dale to where your appreciation is making itself known, gathering at the apex of your thighs and threatening to drip down to where Dale can’t help but notice.

Another stroke of his thumb provokes a hum of pleasure from deep in your chest that you can’t contain. Dale breathes deeply before he finally looks away from your thigh to meet your eyes. You can’t even see any white left in his eyes: his irises are a vibrant blue, glowing with soft light, surrounding dark, wide pupils.

He’s not breathing at all anymore, which you only notice because you have to resist the urge to pant. Then he lets out a sigh, his voice like the wind as he breathes, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You, what?” your voice is high and breathless as he leans closer. “Truly?”

“Yes,” his reply is swift, barely having to think about it. “Of course.” At your continued look of wide eyed surprise, he elaborates, “I was nearly ready to retract my calling off the wedding, no matter my attempt at being better than my nature, when you came to see me simply from how you looked alone. The reminder of what I was giving up.”

His eyes slide up and down your form, before he leans so close your foreheads are nearly touching. His voice is low and almost distracted as he says, “Dressed up so pretty for me.” He moves one hand from your leg to tuck one of your curls behind your ear. “My healing ray of sunshine.”

Heat shoots through your veins at his half-lidded gaze, at his words, at his breath on your lips. “Dale…” Your voice is pleading to a degree that surprises even you. You don’t have time to feel self-conscious about how needy you sound when Dale groans in response, his lips covering yours the next instant.

Soft but insistent, he pushes everything away except for the feel of him pressed against you. The hand still on your thigh, gives a little squeeze, while his other hand cups your cheek, as he’d tried to this morning. He pulls away for a second and your hands wrap themselves in his waistcoat to keep him near. He seemingly needs no persuading as he goes in for another kiss.

His teeth, sharp as they are, tug only gently on your bottom lip, little pinpricks of sensation that send shivers down your spine. You push your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders as you open up to him with a sigh.

His tongue is hotter than the rest of him as it slides into your mouth and you melt in his grasp, wrapping your arms more fully around his neck to keep yourself some semblance of upright. Your pulse thrums with desire as he moves against you and it's all you can do to hold on tight. The flick of his tongue sets your blood simmering. His thorough kiss ignites a hunger in your bones. He pulls back eventually, remembering you both need to breathe, but you don’t care.

You’ve spent so much time at his side, unable to go after what you truly wanted, ask for what you truly want to, that you tighten your hold on him as best you can so he can’t drift away again. Without realizing it, the word “please” falls from your lips to linger in the shared air between you.

Dale’s head tilts back, which is the opposite of what you want, but it seems it’s only to better look you in the eye. “Yes?” He looks startled, despite how you’ve been acting, but eager.

“Yes.” You nod emphatically, past the point about appearing foolish as long as he understands.

“You’d taken this so well,” he says, that same bewildered hope that had sprung up when you said you wanted to marry him back in his eyes. He kisses your skin just below your ear while his hand slides up your side. “I didn’t want to press my luck.”

He captures your mouth in another deep kiss, seemingly unable to help himself

“Uh-uh,” you say once you have a moment to breathe and the wherewithal to speak. You feel drunk on his kisses, the rest of the world and its concerns lost in this heady haze. “This is my reward for getting us here.” Somewhere within, you find the courage to ask, “Haven’t we earned it?”

“More than twice over,” Dale breathes before he sits down on the bed and holds out a hand, “Come here.”

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mvrtaiswriting · 11 months

Note

Hi!

I’m wondering if I could request a sanjixreader about the reader taking a hit that was meant for Sanji but he didn’t realize, yet the reader kept fighting? I’ll leave the ending up to you.

Thank you, and I hope it’s ok

Keep fighting x Black Leg Sanji ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

i'm really sorry for the amount of time this request took me?? it had been sitting in my drafts FOREVER and I kinda forgot about it I am so DEEPLY SORRY. this was so fun the to write and literally one of my favourite requests ever, so I hope this matches your expectation and that it would be worth the wait!! thank you for being patient with me. hope you enjoy this <;33 +1k words | gender neutral | mention of needles? | usual one piece violence. feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

A soft breeze blew out Sanji's burning cigarette, brushing through his blonde hair almost revealing his left eye. There was no way he could have survived the next attack - he was exhausted from the battle, his enemy being the strongest he had ever met before. Trying to take a puff from the cigarette he kept holding between his lips, Sanji wanted to taste nicotine one last time. As death approached him, all he wanted was the bittersweet company of his dearest friend; he wanted to feel his lungs being hugged by the warm smoke entering his airways, like a mother holds her child. That was it - he didn't have any strength left. Maybe that stupid marimo was right all along, maybe his captain deserved a stronger wing by his side.

Sanji stood still in the middle of the battlefield, waiting for his final act. He kept his eyes closed, his mind wondering what could have been if only he had a better father, if only he didn't let everyone down.

"Wake up, you useless cook!"

Was this death? Did Zoro follow him into the afterlife? No, no. It couldn't be.

"Sanji!"

Zoro screamed again, the metal sound of his swords almost serving as a background melody for the horrors of the battle. Passing an hand through his hair, Sanji noticed he wasn't bleeding - he wondered where was the headache coming from. Running his hands over his body, he noticed how he didn't feel any excruciating pain: no broken bones, no bleeding. Yet he passed out - maybe he just overestimated his enemy; maybe, he underestimated himself. Finally regaining conscience, Sanji looked around the battlefield - and a part of him wished he never did.

Your figure was moving swiftly on the battlefield, but your attacks were slower, weaker than usual. All you could do now was avoid any fatal blow, trying to recover from the one you just received. It didn't take long for Sanji to notice how you were covered in blood, your usual combat style being impeded by the metal piece stabbed in your leg, crossing your limb from one end to the other.

Biting his bottom lip, Sanji lit another cigarette. He was furious, rage galloping through his veins and giving him a rush of adrenaline he never felt before. He felt his muscles tighten, full of a strength he didnt believe he possessed - you protected his life with yours, using your own body as a shield. How could he be so weak? How dare he put you in so much danger? A sea of emotions flooded Sanji's thoughts; he was proud of you and your strength, yet he was scared, frustrated - mad at how he failed to protect you. His eyes were filled of admiration and worry - you endured a critical hit yet you kept fighting.

"Let me."

Sanji was quick to step in, putting his body between you and your enemy. Winking at you with the sexiest smirk painted on his lips, Sanji finally put an end to the battle you both had been fighting for too long. Before he could realise it, you were already lying on the floor unconscious, exhausted from the battle and all the wounds you endured.

The next thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a torchlight, pointed directed at your pupils. Too confused to follow the light as Chopper just ordered you, you tried to stand up. An heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving, forcing you to lay on the mattress.

"Not so fast, mon coeur."

A familiar voice finally said, the French accent in his words revealing his identity straight away. You smiled weakly, realising the hand on your shoulder was Sanji's. Sighing, you stayed still whilst Chopper finished his job. You were full of bandages and stitches, an IV drip connected to your arm.

"Was it really that bad?"

You whined, when Chopper finally closed his medical kit bag. You saw the reindeer nod, dragging one of his little hoof onto his face.

"You're lucky to still have your leg!"

Chopper whined, frustrated with the way you were minimising your injury. Tears started forming in his tiny eyes, making you nod and fall silent - you knew he was genuinely worried and he was probably right about it.

When Chopper finally left the room, you felt Sanji slowly sitting down on the side of the bed, your mattress slowly sinking.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Sanji finally says. His tone is calm and full of worry, yet his words stung like salt on an open cut. His hand slowly reached your face, caressing your cheeks, his fingertips delicately tickling your skin. Biting your tongue, you hold back your explanations - he probably knows you were only trying to protect him, yet he was ready to scold you like a little child. You were fine, injured but alive. And you would do it again if you had to - protecting the love of your life from a potentially fatal blow? You would do it again in an heart beat.

"I love you."

These three words slip out of Sanji's mouth in a whisper, almost as if he didn't want to let them go. But now they were out in the open, filling the hospital room you were lying in.

"I love you and I want you to stay alive."

Sanji reiterated, clearing his throat. The words almost got stuck in his throat - flashback of the battles coming to him again in a blur. Seeing you collapsed on the floor, covered in blood with countless wounds all over your body. It was too much to take. He always thought nothing could scare him anymore, he always thought that there couldn't be a bigger pain than the one his father inflicted on him. But that was before this, it was before always losing the love of his life because he wasn't strong enough.

"I love you too, stupid cook. I love you and will stay alive to save your ass." You giggled, causing him to blush. Sanji stared at you for a second, the softest of smiles forming on his lips before he leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were safe, you were his.

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blues824 · 1 year

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Could you do a fix that is dorm leaders x a reader who is like Nobara from jujitsu kaizen? Like most of the time she is goofy and a little bossy, always focused on her looks; but then during overblots she get really serious and a little phyco?

Targeted towards female reader, but no gender-specific pronouns are used.

Riddle Rosehearts

You both did not get along at the beginning. Not only would you not follow the Queen’s rules, but you viewed them as dumb. Plus, you often goofed off with Ace and Deuce and he definitely does not like that. In addition to all of that, you stood up for yourself against Riddle’s tyranny. And finally, you were obsessed with how you looked at all times.

However, when he overblotted, he saw you really put yourself and others to work. You took charge and ordered everyone around as you went in to attack. You were willing to inflict pain upon yourself, and he was put off by that significantly. He was no match for you, as you had passed Satoru’s test with flying colors back in your world.

It wasn’t until you were helping him in the infirmary that he got to see your more caring side. The way you looked at him was very uncharacteristically kind, but he welcomed it. You scolded him for not informing you that he was struggling with family issues beforehand, and he let out that classic anime sweatdrop.

But, now that the two of you were together, things were for the better. You still retained your very ‘superior’ attitude, but instead of you being #1, you and Riddle were #1. You often acted in his place because you were able to keep a level head in stressful situations, and even did a King of Hearts move where you would ask him to give a fair trial.

Leona Kingscholar

Again, you both did not get along at first, but that’s because your prideful personalities often clashed with each other. You both thought you were better than the other, and it didn’t work very well. But, to make him even more angry, you would often goof around with Ruggie so that he was delayed in a task that Leona had given him.

Once he had overblotted, however, he was taken by surprise at your amazing coordination and even level of psychopath-ness. It was very embarrassing for him how fast you were able to take him down. You even stood triumphantly before calming down and helping the nurse get him on a gurney and take him to the infirmary.

During his recovery period, he really got to see your more caring side that you usually reserved for Yuji and Megumi. Unfortunately, this side of you has been wanting to peak out but your friends weren’t there with you. So, Leona was the next best person. You scolded him when he tried to get up when he wasn’t supposed to, but he could tell that you were really worried.

After he was in the clear, you made sure to check on him more. You often brushed him off when he tried to tease you about being scared that he was going to die, saying that it was worrying how he hyped himself up so much only to be defeated in a 5-minute battle. He found your sarcastic attitude very attractive.

Azul Ashengrotto

He thought he would be able to manipulate your pride to get you into a contract, but you were already 5 steps ahead of him. Your training with Satoru Gojo wasn’t for nothing, after all. This often left him frustrated because you could be used as a bouncer or security guard of some sort for the Lounge since you knew how to fight and you fought well.

The second he overblotted, you were taking the reins. You ordered Jade and Floyd around better than he ever could, and he really underestimated your ability to fight as well as overestimated your sanity level. You went batshit crazy, and it freaked him out. And because he froze, you won.

You did help him to the infirmary and helped him through the healing process, and he always grew super flustered when you were especially caring. Like when you helped him sit up in the bed, the skin contact left him blushing. You then scolded him for getting a fever (even though that’s not what it was and he wouldn’t have control over it anyway).

From that point on, you both were great together. You only showed your softer side when you both were alone in his office, and he felt very honored to see that version of you. The two of you are somewhat concerned about your looks, but you make sure to give each other compliments so that you both feel better about yourselves.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim tries to see the good in everyone, and he likes your confidence. You always knew how to carry yourself. So, he acted as your cheerleader of sorts. Honestly, it worried you but also boosted your ego more than it should have because now you’re even more prideful than before, much to everyone else’s dismay.

When Jamil overblotted, Kalim got to see a whole other side of you. You took charge of the situation, and even though the Vice Housewarden was very meticulous, you had Gojo as a teacher. There was no way you would have disappointed him, and you wouldn’t have because the battle was relatively easy. Your love interest was very scared by your maniacal look, though.

Once the two of you were reunited, you let out a huge sigh of relief as you ran into his arms. You were exhausted because it has been overblot after overblot after overblot, and the Scarabia Housewarden can see it. So, he led you by the hand to his room where he had you lay down on his bed to get some rest.

Over the next few days, he got to see your softer (but still tsundere) side. As he tried to feed you some of the food that his dorm members made, you would often comment on how you could feed yourself. He wasn’t having any of it, though, as he held the utensil to your mouth for you to take a bite.

Vil Schoenheit

Another case where your personalities clashed. Not only that, but you both were beautiful as well, so it started a rivalry between the two of you. Then there was the fact that since Epel was one of your friends you would often either goof off with him or break him out/make an excuse as to why you needed him so that he could get out of doing his makeup or skincare.

He thought you were just reckless and prideful, until he overblotted. You were like an entirely different person as you took charge and ordered everyone around so that it wouldn’t be too chaotic as you went up against him one-on-one. He thought you were foolish for doing that, but you won by a very large margin.

In the infirmary, he had the chance of seeing your more tender self. You didn’t even care that Vil didn’t have any makeup on as you dabbed a damp towel upon his forehead for the sweat. Even though you denied being worried, he could tell that that wasn’t the truth. Don’t worry though, because your secret is safe with him.

Once the two of you got romantically involved, Vil realized that maybe he didn’t need to compete with Neige all the time. If he had you by his side, then he’s already won. Not only were you a perfect match for him, but you matched him intellectually. It’s like you could read each other’s minds. You knew when the other needed rest.

Idia Shroud

He was very intimidated by you, but this is one of those cases where you lead and he follows. He is a worshiper, often agreeing when you claim superiority over everyone else. But the only reason is because he’s scared you’re gonna beat him up. Poor baby is trembling in his shoes whenever you’re around.

The minute he overblotted, he knew what you were capable of. So, as a result, he posed more of a challenge than you originally expected. No matter, since he had only seen your prideful side and not your insane side that can be very spontaneous. There was no predictable pattern in your actions, and so he was defeated.

Oh, man. We could start an entire romance show with an entire season focused on you helping Idia in his recovery. Feelings were discovered and explored, and you showed how you really felt even though you really tried to rein it in. It was like a cheesy fanfiction trope that no one can resist.

After, the two of you put an official title on your relationship. Everyone was shocked when you came out holding hands and they watched as you helped him to Ignihyde. You shouted at everyone else to mind their own business when they started whispering amongst themselves, and you were pretty close to throwing hands with Ace and Deuce for snickering.

Malleus Draconia

The fae Prince is very amused by your confidence. You are no damsel in distress, and he respects that. He might even humor you and agree that you were the best, and it wasn’t truly false at all since he did think you were wonderful. You were his first friend outside of his retainers or his dormitory.

He has heard of your fights with the overblot phantoms, and he has to say that what he has gleaned from the gossip is that you had a different side of you when you fought in battle. It almost sounds like you went feral, even harming yourself in the process but not caring. All this man really cared about was that you were able to fend for yourself and he was proud.

But, what no one else knows is that you had a third side to you, and it was a more loving side. As the two of you walked under the moonlight each night, you walked arm-in-arm with each other and just basked in each other’s presence. Even though you could be very chaotic, this was a very good way for you to wind down after dealing with NRC’s shenanigans.

Unfortunately, the quiet never lasts since you and Sebek often get into arguments since you both were very prideful. Before you had the chance to accept the knight’s invitation to a proper duel, Malleus stepped in and refused for fear of his retainer dying at your hands. It left you disappointed for the rest of the day, but that’s okay.

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 8 months

Text

it girl wag era

daniel ricciardo x f!reader

i think i'm gonna make this a series???? but idk how???

fc: mainly lucy boynton

warnings: swearing, i said 'overestimated' at one point and i meant 'underestimated', kym illman

liked by pierregasly, and 18,865 others

f1wagupdates: y/n l/n on the late late show with james corden in early 2016, months before she reportedly met daniel ricciardo at the austrian gp in 2016. the interview has begun recirculating after daniel revealed dm's that the two had been in contact for two years before they 'met' for the first time.

do we think her cryptic clues could have been a hint to the actress having a crush on daniel himself, or another driver on the 2016 grid at the time?

view all comments

user1: forget the confusion, i'm impressed she didn't succumb to corden's ridiculous peer pressure smh

user2: fr 'i hope i'm not overstepping' and then he tries to literally pry the info out of her hands

user3: 'SO IF YOU DON'T KNOW THEM, WHAT'S THE HARM IN TELLING?'

user4: also you can't convince me her 'dignity' and 'reputation' wasn't code for 'i don't want to talk about it'

user5: could you imagine if she was talking about jenson button 💀

user6: idk i think 'i'm a big fan of you' ruins that theory, i can't see it being anyone but daniel

user7: i'm so jealous of her if they started dating in 2016 because danny's curly mullet era was MOUTH-WATERING

user8: there were 24 drivers on the 2016 grid and from that 24 around 1/2 could be candidates

user9: can daniel ricciardo fight? i hope he can't

user10: 'he drives fast and he looks good doing it' miss y/n did NOT lie

user11: just thinking if she got this flustered and nervous about her crush on him to the point where she couldn't actually tell anyone who it was, then how did it go when she met him in 2016???

user12: why is nobody talking about how flirty those messages were? 'are you bribing me?' and 'is it working?' THEY CLEARLY LIKED EACH OTHER

user13: the man literally couldn't find her in the paddock and HAD to introduce himself he was clearly down BAADDDD

liked by 71,196 others

f1wagupdates: monaco gp or The Monaco Incident™️ Anniversary (TV*)?

**Tame Version

view all comments

user14: we want unhinged version

user15: the one time i decide to go on twitter on the night of the 2018 Monaco GP, it descends into chaos

user16: daniel half dressed outside a club with y/n over his shoulder giggling and still holding a glass of alcohol will never not make me laugh

user17: the morning after pics hit different now you know they'd been dating for years already

user18: daniel ricciardo is one dirty mf using his shoey mouth to snog y/n later in the night

user19: the fact that it was the first time we'd seen y/n in clothes that weren't classy and ironed

user20: idc if she never comments on it but in my head those clothes were pulled from the depths of danny's wardrobe

user21: the way this moment impacted f1 from then was astronomical

user22: i've never seen 2 celebs to openly all over each other

user23: whatever you do don't google timothee and eiza ok 👍👍 promise me i need you to do that

user24: i remember the way tabloids were all over her for this about not being a good role model 😭😭

user25: the bisexual hold this series of events had on me at the innocent age of 12

#daniel ricciardo sm au #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo oneshot

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esperfruit · 4 days

Text

Since I got back into this series, here is my Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends Human AU. Reference sheets and bios for numbers 1-12 ^^

1 - Thomas Billington

Age: 16

Height: 166 cm

An optimist that is always full of energy, ready to jump into action at any opportunity.

His eagerness can often get him into trouble with how impulsive he acts.

Thomas is cheeky and cocky, overestimating himself and underestimating others constantly. Playing tricks and teasing others, especially the adults around him is what he’s mostly known for besides of how hard of a worker he is.

He always sees the good in others and loves helping out but when someone does something he deems as truly unforgivable, he holds deep grudges and acts spiteful towards them. During most of his childhood, he used to be a troublemaker due to his lack of respect towards everyone not named Edward, Annie, Clarabell or Sir Topham Hatt. Nowadays he directs his disrespect and rudeness towards those who mistreat his friends.

Thomas is very curious and when something gets his interest, he wants to learn about it as much as possible, which got him into dangerous situations multiple times when he tried to discover something, a trait he got from his parents, archeologists.

When Thomas was born, his parents moved from the mainland to Sodor to raise him in a peaceful environment. Shortly before Thomas’ sixth birthday, his parents went missing when they were on their way back from an excursion and the only thing they left behind was a Golden Whistle. Thomas then was taken in and raised by Edward, his father’s best friend, and Annie and Clarabell. Having the strong feeling that Golden Whistle is connected to his parent’s disappearance, he is determined to uncover its secrets to find them.

2 - Edward Pettigrew

Age: 55

Height: 172 cm

Thomas’ adoptive father after his parent’s disappearance and treats him like his own son with the assistance of his close friends and flatmates Annie and Clarabell.

An intelligent and experienced veteran, who uses his wisdom to guide others onto a better path. Genuinely good-natured, respectful and calm-minded, it takes a lot to make him angry and when he does get angry, he can terrify anyone.

He has a huge friend circle and can make things work easily thanks to his connections. Others generally view him as very pleasant to have around and to be a great listener when someone has something they need to let out. Generally very beloved and respected, people like Thomas and Duck will immediately jump to his defense if someone mistreats him.

His best friends used to be Gordon and Henry. They were an unstoppable trio, loved and admired by everyone but they grew distant over a decade ago and Edward was practically kicked out of their friend group and replaced by James. For a while they grew very disrespectful towards Edward and mocked him on the basis of him being past his prime or calling him unreliable. Edward, confident in himself, did not take these insults to heart and just waited for sweet karma to humble them and then laugh at the three hotshots. After a dangerous exploit where Edward severely injured himself, Gordon and Henry regained their respect for him and he became a sort of living legend on the island. Their relationship had severely improved since then but it is still quite awkward between them. Edward’s Exploit proved to everyone what he truly is: a brave old sage that never gives up and the most reliable person on Sodor.

3 - Henry Stanier

Age: 44

Height: 194 cm

A true enigma as nobody knows where he comes from, not even himself. One day he was found on the doors of an orphanage on the mainland as an infant and grew up there until he was adopted by the Staniers, a rival family of the famous Gresleys.

It turned out he suffered from chronic anemia and regularly collapsed and spent a lot of time at hospitals. Despite his illness, he is physically very strong and proud of it.

When he was 17 and at the hospital again, he met a boy named Gordon, who was visiting a dying relative of his. They quickly became friends and began to hang out on the daily after they found out they go to the same prestigious school.

Right after graduation, their fathers, the heads of the Gresley and Stanier households respectively, forced them to not see each other anymore, which deeply hurt Henry.

After finishing university, Henry moved to Sodor, to distance himself from the Gresley-Stanier conflict but he grew to become a snarky jerk, who complained about everything and everyone. He was tired of being anemic, hated his job and was unable to properly socialize. The only thing that kept his mood up was his gardening hobby. Things didn’t improve much even after he and Gordon reunited and formed a trio with Edward. Gordon had become a pompous hotshot and seemed to be closer to Edward than him, Henry felt isolated.

After he was involved in a terrible accident that almost killed him, he lost his right eye and left arm, which were replaced with a glass eye and an arm prosthetic. This accident served as a wake-up call for him and he mellowed-out of his permanent grumpiness and he and Gordon were just as close as they used to be. Treatment for his anemia had also been invented since then. It wasn’t cured but living with it had become much more manageable.

Not feeling weak anymore, he flourished and even quickly grew an ego that was almost as bad as Gordon’s in terms of entitlement. His ego left him to ignore how much he, Gordon and James grew to mistreat Edward for a while.

His arrogance has also mellowed-out over time but then his life took another turbulent turn after he was stuck in a very toxic relationship with Gordon’s cousin Spencer.

Henry was physically and emotionally abused by Spencer for almost two years, leaving large mental scars on him. He was only able to escape this relationship with the help of his friends. As a result of this relationship, Henry developed deep anxiety and grew afraid of expressing himself. Gordon, Edward, James and Emily supported him throughout his healing process and grew to appreciate all of them dearly.

Today, Henry is still healing from all his experiences but he has become gentle, fun-loving and developed a pleasant aura around him. He can still be snarky sometimes but it’s mostly harmless, and he is eager to fully express his love for nature and his friends. A true resilient fighter who loves life despite all the hardships he had to face.

4 - Gordon Gresley

Age: 42

Height: 206 cm

The youngest son out of many of the main family of the famous Gresleys. He experienced almost nothing but infighting in his family and the only people he was really close to were his brother Scott and his mother. Over time Gordon grew content with the fact he wouldn’t become the heir due to being the youngest. He was usually bullied by Spencer with Scott protecting him. Gordon was a timid child that didn’t know how to properly handle people. When he was 15, he became close friends with a Stanier kid until they were forced to seperate. After graduation, he and his family had a terrible accident during a trip where his parents and his siblings died with him and Scott being the sole survivors.

Scott became the heir and Gordon lived under his uncle's home with his cousins Spencer and Mallard until he finished university. Gordon became grumpy and hid his emotions even more than before, deciding to always act stoic and be strong. He developed a super-ego and an overly pompous attitude. His environment and the whole Gresley family dynamic in general made him very competitive, insisting to always be the best and every form of humiliation hurt him deeply.

He overworks himself on a daily basis just to be the best and grows to look down on everyone he sees as weak. His relationship with his family had crumbled, he even started to avoid Scott, who was occupied with the family business.

To get away from the Gresley drama, he moved to Sodor and became “the best” there. Forming a famous trio with his old friend Henry and Edward, he made a name for himself as the unofficial leader. All the many fans he has, his origins and his shining performances inflated his ego even more and he turned into an entitled prick, who is convinced he deserves nothing but the best as the best and refuses to do “undignified work”.

This misbehavior got him into many humiliating situations that slowly humbled over time but he never truly loses his pridefulness. Gordon grew worried sick about Henry when he started dating Spencer, knowing how malicious his cousin truly is. After he and the others were finally able to help Henry leaving Spencer, Gordon became protective of him.

As time passed, more and more of Gordon’s facessets unveiled themselves: His dry humor seems way more fun now, he became a role model, everyone now knows of his undying loyalty and he developed fatherly feelings for some of the younger ones, especially Percy. And while he still struggles with showing his emotions properly, he loves all of his friends deeply and his hidden separation anxiety made him panic by just imagining what would happen if he would lose only one of them.

5 - James Hughes

Age: 36

Height: 186 cm

His arrogance and vanity put even Gordon to shame. He loves himself above anything and loves making everyone know that. James is determined to always be the center of attention and to receive praise for his entire being, growing frustrated when someone other than him is in the spotlight, this can get so far as feeling panic when he thinks he is being ignored. Often he likes watching others fail just to feel better about himself.

James is very opinionated, never holds back in saying what he thinks and makes himself heard. His obsession with beauty, especially his own, made him despise dirt and he throws a fit every time he gets dirty. James puts all of his energy into his charisma so as many people as possible can love and appreciate him. One strategy of standing out is to dress in flamboyant red outfits and he gave his hair red highlights after he saw Gordon and Henry having natural blue and green ones.

James struggles with handling frustration and is thus labeled as childish and a drama queen. It’s not uncommon seeing him insulting others in the most creative ways imaginable or straight up getting violent. Edward and he have an awkward relationship as James practically stole his friends from him and it was also him who started picking on Edward. He did that to get the attention and approval of Gordon, who he secretly admires. In hindsight, he genuinely regrets what he did and is aware Edward didn’t deserve anything he received. Now he even feels quite intimidated by Edward with how calm and forgiving he is towards James despite everything he did.

It’s hard seeing past his self-absorbed, flamboyant and confrontational surface but if you get to know him closer you can see just how loving, courageous and loyal James can really be. He’s the type of friend, who is always ready to throw hands if a loved one is in trouble.

James got into hobbies like cooking, fashion design (many of his clothes are his own creations), cosmetics and music. First and foremost because he thinks they’re fun but they can also be helpful to others, which helps him be appreciated even more.

To the disbelief of everyone, James used to be a very quiet and shy child, usually horribly bullied and unable to make friends. His parents were also rather neglectful, telling him he should just be confident and “man-up” if he doesn’t want others to mistreat him. That timid self haunted him into his adult years and he hated everything about himself and when he moved to Sodor, he decided to switch from one extreme to the other to finally love himself and to protect himself from further potential bullying.

6 - Percival “Percy” Avonside

Age: 14

Height: 148 cm

Don’t be fooled by his age and size, that little guy is one of the most adventurous and brave people you can meet. Has a bright worldview and is very trusting and forgiving, which some evil people tried to take advantage of. His naivety has nothing to do with lacking intelligence, he’s very smart actually, he just lacks experience and his parents sheltered him from way too much so he still has to learn more than other children his age. Being the youngest and smallest in the group made him intimidated at first and quite the doormat but thanks to his brother and grandpa figures Duck and Toby, he learned to stand his ground. This awakened his sassy side and he enjoys some pranks from time to time, his favorites are when he scared Henry with a loud “WOOOOOOOO” or Thomas when he pretended to be a ghost with the help of Toby.

Percy tends to get very giddy and overly-excited when big events are planned and he’s usually the first to volunteer for help. He generally loves festivities and events that bring joy to others.

At the beginning Percy and Thomas didn’t get along when Thomas still had an attitude problem and Percy was still a pushover, tolerating each other at most. However, over time they found out how much they actually have in common like their love for adventure and optimism, becoming best friends in the end. Percy wants to help Thomas uncover the secrets of the Golden Whistle.

He is surprisingly athletic, a good runner and possesses a lot of stamina, often competing with Thomas on their explorations.

Percy grew up as the only child of simple farmers on Sodor. His parents were overprotective of him and homeschooled him for most of his short life. After his father died from illness and his mother went missing in a similar manner to the Billingtons, he was taken in by Tobias and Henrietta Holden, who became like grandparents to him. Later he also grew close to Grordon, who is now like a father to Percy, mentoring and supporting him with the methods he has.

One time his clumsiness led him into an accident that gained him the nickname “Dirty Percy”. He hates it and lashes out on everyone calling him that.

Everyone perceives him as the sweet and kind little fella with a strong sense of justice but Percy still secretly fears being taken advantage of and thus can become skeptical of others when he thinks he’s being “used”, even friends.

7 - Tobias “Toby” Holden

Age: 64

Height: 177 cm

That one jolly grandpa everyone likes. Devoted husband to Henrietta, close friend to Edward and loving adoptive grandfather of Percival. Generally as wise and diligent as Edward but he has a different approach on teaching youngsters. Edward teaches first and scolds when his advice is being ignored, Toby watches them fail first, laughs at them and then shows how it’s done. He is cheerful to everyone he meets and easy to be friends with as long as someone doesn’t get obnoxious with their ego. He can and will get stern with overly-pompous people, making James one of the very few he does not get along with. Another one was Mavis, who was stubborn and rebellious due to her youth and some bad advice from Diesel. But Toby and Mavis made up and now have a mentor-student relationship.

Toby has a good-sense of humor and is always there for a good laugh, his mere presence spreads a good atmosphere and he loves listening to others’ stories.

Prefers a slow and easy life, appreciates the small things in life and is probably the most content person on Sodor alongside his wife.

He has a strong disliking for the police and has no issue standing up to them as he is very fearless, there is barely anything that can frighten Toby with one thing being floods due to a life-threatening experience he once had during one.

Toby and Henrietta have been married for decades and are just as much in love with each other since day one. He would do everything to protect Henrietta and make her happy as her smile brightens his life more than anything. Their loving marriage set an example for many on how a good marriage should be, making them both flustered.

8 - Montague “Duck” Collett

Age: 25

Height: 181 cm

Proud descendant of the “Great Western”, who sticks to the values his family taught him. It’s either “the Great Western way or the wrong way” for Montague and no in-between. A true traditionalist, who wants to bring his teachings to others, to varying effect.

He has a damaged left knee, making running for him very difficult. His peers back at London said it looks like he waddled and thus endearingly started calling him “Duck”. Montague liked that nickname and preferred it over his actual name so it stuck.

When Duck arrived at Sodor, he immediately made himself unpopular with the three entitled hotshots Gordon, Henry and James as he is a city boy with a thick skin that knows how to fight back, even enjoying confrontations, and won’t let them have anything. He also stands up for the younger ones and is protective of Percy, who he sees as a little brother. Teaching little Percival how to stand up for himself and of course the “Great Western way”.

Duck usually is level-headed, polite, helpful, loves working as routine makes him feel at ease and is anything but a pushover with how sassy he can become if anyone tries to mess with him. He rarely resorts to violence, only doing so when he is pushed to his limits or when someone else is being threatened to get hurt (he loves being chivalrous).

The Great Western that dictated Duck’s entire life had him become very stubborn and develop a black-and-white view on things. Duck usually refuses to hear others out, insisting the way he does it is always right unless being directly shown in his face that he is wrong. His constant bragging about the GW makes him quite obnoxious to those he isn’t very close to. Thomas and he especially constantly bud heads and disagree on almost everything, the only thing they openly share to have in common is their respect and appreciation for Edward. Another one would be Gordon as not a single conversation of them can go without Gordon telling him to shut up in any way.

A very infamous incident he got himself into was with a devious man his age, Darius Diesel. Diesel openly criticized Duck’s beloved “Great Western way”, even making some valid points but Duck was infuriated with that newbie getting all cocky and daring to insult the GW. So Duck decided to play a prank on Diesel to humiliate him and thus making him unable to make a good first impression. When Duck learnt his prank went probably too far, it was already too late, Diesel decided to hate Duck and to pay him back tenfold. This all ended with Duck being ostracized for a while as he was accused of spreading nasty rumors of others.

In the end it turned out to be Diesel’s fault and everyone made up again, everyone but Duck and Diesel, who have had strong animosity between each other since then.

The people Duck clearly shares the closest bond with are Oliver, Toad, Donald and Douglas, especially Donald.

9 & 10 - Donald & Douglas McIntosh

Age: 24 (Donald is the older twin by 12 minutes)

Height: 183 cm

A pair of enthusiastic twins from Scotland. After the Dunalastair twins lost their parents to a burglar killing them when they were 12 years old, they were taken in by their grandparents, who only reluctantly adopted them as they were very superstitious, believing twins to be a bad omen. Their new living environment was very abusive, having to live through very painful 4 years. Every bit of misfortune their grandparents experienced were blamed on the twins for being “cursed”, receiving harsh punishments as result, especially Douglas as the younger twin. This all culminated when their grandparents tried to kill Douglas in an attempt to free themselves of the curse by only having to raise one child. Douglas’ food was poisoned, the physical punishment grew harsher and harsher and one day their grandfather wanted to drown Douglas in the bathtub. This almost succeeded if Donald had not stepped in. He rescued his brother and they went to get help, ending with their grandparents getting arrested. The twins later ended up in the care of a loving foster family, the McIntoshs.

The McIntosh family severely improved their lives and they were grateful but the abuse they went through before left deep emotional scars on both twins, Donald grew overprotective of his younger twin and Douglas grew more quiet and anxious and was not able to eat anything given to him by anyone else but Donald. They had sworn to forever stick together and to always watch out for another. They love each other dearly, calling themselves “Donnie” and “Dougie” respectively.

When they were 20, Donald received a job offer to work on Sodor. To make sure he and Douglas would not be separated, they arrived together, their hair and clothes styled to look identical as they are used to impersonating each other for fun and for protection. After causing some confusion, proving themselves as equally useful and with help from the others both ended up hired.

Both love their new work as they are very responsible, diligent, professional, competent and have a strong work ethic, the McIntosh twins are a most reliable duo.

They have become a positive example for others and are often seen, lecturing the other, way more chaotic pair of twins, Bill and Ben.

Both twins are practical, proud, clever, mature and not to be messed with but they also enjoy themself some harmless jokes, preferring to laugh with others, not at others. Donald is very charming, witty and flirtatious whereas Douglas is calm-natured, quick-thinking and serious. Once Donald teased Duck about his “quacking”, ending with Donald getting a pet duck named Dilly, who he is a very proud dad of.

When Douglas went missing for two weeks, Donald went borderline insane, needing to find his brother at any and all cost, having flashbacks from their lives with their grandparents. He was so worried sick, it got him almost hospitalized. Right before many were ready to give up hope, Douglas returned with two men named Oliver and Toad in company, who he had apparently saved from being hunted down. Learning to be forcefully separated makes them both miserable.

One day Donald and Douglas had an incident in which Donald got injured, leaving him with a small scar on his lower lip. It was their first really big argument, where neither wanted to speak with each other for a day. They even insisted working separately but they once again grew miserable, making up again after Douglas got Donald out of a pinch.

11 - Oliver Armstrong

Age: 28

Height: 190 cm

Oliver is of similar Great Western descent as Montague but he wasn’t raised strictly after GW values and thus is way less stubborn. He is reasonable and approaches things with logic first. He is very calm and just wants things to go smoothly.

The Armstrong family became a target of a crime syndicate for reasons Oliver is not aware of yet. Assassins were sent after him and all his relatives, he had lost almost all of his family and was on the run for nearly three years. During this time he met a homeless man who called himself Toad. The two quickly became friends and decided to travel together. Planning to leave the mainland, they sneaked on a boat that unbeknownst to them brought them to the island of Sodor. While hiding in the woods for a while, they encountered the young Scot, Douglas McIntosh. Telling him their story, he decided to help them find a safe place to stay. The journey took a long time because they got lost and even encountered an assassin going after Oliver. After a long and deadly game of hide and seek, they were able to get rid of the assassin by making him fall down a cliff. Finally at home, Oliver and Toad received a place to stay in exchange for work by Sir Topham Hatt.

Soon Oliver became insanely cocky and arrogant after sharing his crazy story and receiving tons of admiration and respect by everyone, even by people as vain as Gordon and James. All that praise really got over his head until he got humbled in a humiliating incident he brought onto himself.

Feeling great gratitude towards Douglas for his help, they formed a very close bond as co-workers and friends. They started dating and he got a side eye from Donald telling “Make Dougie happy or else!”.

Oliver is still wondering what could have caused a criminal organization to want his family erased and wishes for answers but is also content with maybe never receiving any if it means to finally live a happy and safe life, right?

12 - Emily Stirling

Age: 57

Height: 171 cm

A good-hearted and strong-willed lady raised in Scotland. Very active and energetic despite her age and is more than willing to still work hard regardless of protests from her relatives. She was born into a branch family of the Gresleys but married into the Stirlings, she is one of Gordon’s aunts. Emily left the mainland after her husband's passing to find something new for herself as a way to move on.

She was very surprised to meet a nephew of hers on Sodor when she started her new job there. Unfortunately she arrived during very grim times as that was the time Henry was stuck in an abusive relationship with another one of her nephews. Emily’s empathetic nature and understanding of the more sinister Gresleys made her essential to help out. Later on she still has a very positive relationship with Henry, looking out for him during his healing process or treating him when he suddenly collapsed from his anemia and there were no doctors around.

Generally Emily looks out after others as she is very motherly and that also includes scolding those who act silly and cause trouble. She loves taking charge and can be bossy and competitive, easily getting snappy with those standing in her way, showing she still is a Gresley at heart.

Usually people either love or hate Emily due to her strong and impressionable personality in combination with har age. She mostly spends time with Thomas, Henry, Edward, Daisy, Annie, Clarabell, Henrietta, Donald and Douglas, the latter two she ends up getting very close to with all three having ties to Scotland. Outside work Emily is very fun-loving and you can have a very good time with her.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year

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Can you make a fic of Sihtric with the appearance of s4 with a lady daughter of Lord Odda? Where she is willing to abandon her life in Saxon to live with Sihtric but he tries to deny her feelings because he considers her very young and thinks she will ruin her life since he can't offer good things to her. with a little smut

warnings: angst/lowkey fluff/lowkey smut. the biggest warning is Sihtric being an asshole, really.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: see ask!

word count: 1.8k

Note: you didn't tell me how this should end, so I'm sorry for this :')

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @anditsmywholeheart @bubbles-for-all-of-us

'But I wasn't too young for you last night?'

********************

You repressed a yawn while you listened to King Edward's speech. It was already later in the evening when everyone was gathered in the centre of the town, after Aethelred's funeral earlier that day. Sihtric had been eyeing you up all day already, and one of you had to make a move soon before anyone else would pick up on the tension between the two of you.

You and Sihtric had been flirting ever since you first met, but being Odda the Elder's daughter came with restrictions. Your father, and every other Saxon for that matter, would never approve of you having a relationship with a Dane. That, and the fact that Sihtric was a few years older, and had to leave abruptly ever so often didn't make it easier. You had only kissed him a few times, in secret, and you never got further than that due to the lack of privacy and time. Yet, you couldn't deny your feelings for him and if you were completely honest, you'd give up your Saxon life for the Dane.

Sihtric got up from his seat and locked eyes with you as he smirked, making a slight motion for you to follow him. You saw Sihtric make his way to the Inn and you waited a few minutes before you snuck away from the public gathering to follow him. You hid your face under the hood of your cloak as you stepped into the Inn. Soon you felt Sihtric's strong grip on your arm as he pulled you with him, up the stairs, into the room he stayed in for a few days before he'd leave again.

'Finally,' Sihtric sighed after he closed the door behind him and watched how you took your cloak off. He wasted no time and rushed to you, cupping your cheeks to kiss you intensely.

A Saxon man would never do it like this, you thought to yourself and you melted into his kiss. You tugged at his leather belt while his hands trailed down to your waist, guiding you backwards to the bed. You smiled against his lips as he hummed upon feeling you lightly tugging at his hair, and you soon trailed your fingertips over the shaved side of his head, down to his neck. Sihtric lowered his hands down your hips to your thighs, eagerly pulling at your dress. You loved the roughness in his hands and you wanted nothing more than Sihtric ripping the dress off your body, but you knew you wouldn't be able to explain it to your father and the maids.

'Sihtric, wait,' you broke the kiss and smiled, 'be careful with my dress. I won't be able to explain a ripped dress to anyone. Just unlace it.'

Sihtric smirked and spun you around, pulling you back against his chest and he bit your ear seductively.

'You're going to make me wait even longer?'

'You've waited all this time already, I'm sure you can manage a few more minutes,' you chuckled as his hands trailed down your back to tug harshly at the laces of your dress.

'You overestimate my patience, lady,' he whispered raspily in your ear.

'And you underestimate my eagerness for you, Sihtric, so stop talking and just untie my dress already.'

Sihtric laughed and untied your dress as fast as he could, only to slow himself down as he was not able to resist kissing your neck and shoulders in the meantime. You sighed at the feeling and couldn't imagine what else he was going to do to you once he had you out of your dress.

Moments later you felt your dress slip down your shoulders, leaving you fully exposed with only your undergarments left. You turned to Sihtric, who quickly took off his leather belt, which fell to the floor with a heavy thump due to the weapons attached to it. You pulled his tunic off and smiled at the sight of his bare upper body. You grabbed his hands and pulled Sihtric on top of you as you laid down onto the bed. His lips found yours quickly and the more heated the kiss became, the rougher his hands felt on your skin as he was squeezing and digging his fingers into your flesh, leaving bruises for you to remember him by the next day.

'I've waited so long for you,' you sighed when he lowered his body onto yours, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

'So have I,' Sihtric smirked before he pulled down your lower garments.

He took off his own quickly after and positioned himself between your thighs. You gasped and threw your head back when you finally felt him inside you, and he was everything you had hoped for. He was rough and eager, but made sure it felt good for you too.

And you smiled knowing that you had completely fallen in love with the Dane, who knew how to please you, and your father was going to be so disappointed in you. But Sihtric felt so good in this moment, that you simply couldn't care less about your bad behaviour.

But you didn't know that for Sihtric, this was nothing more than just a good hump. Sure, he was attracted to you, and under different circumstances he would've wanted to explore his chances with you. But he knew that a relationship with you was never going to be an option, so he'd just take any opportunity to enjoy you when he could. And he thought you felt the same.

********************

'Was it worth the wait?' you smiled, trying to catch your breath while Sihtric laid down on his side next to you.

'More than worth it,' he chuckled while he panted, causing you to blush.

You turned to your side and buried your face in his neck, making him wrap his arms around you as he kissed the top of your head. Sihtric brushed his fingers through your messy hair and held you tight for a while as you planted soft kisses on his skin. Your lips kept wandering back to his, and he would never reject the taste of you, instead, he always snuck his tongue in your mouth at even the slightest opportunity you'd give him.

Eventually you rested your head upon his chest, smiling to yourself while you traced his scars with your fingertips, thinking of how you'd love to marry him.

'I should go,' you said with sadness after a while, 'I can't stay and sleep with you, my people will be worried for me.'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed, 'I know. I didn't expect you to stay the night.'

'You didn't?' you frowned lightly, a little hurt by his words.

'Not really,' Sihtric shrugged, 'what we did was already risky enough. I don't want to get you in trouble, lady,' he smiled.

His words somewhat satisfied you and you got up from the bed. Sihtric watched you with a smile as you got dressed while he leaned back onto the bed, the bedsheet only barely covering up his groin and a part of his thigh. You smiled at the sight of him and asked Sihtric to lace your dress up.

He fumbled with your dress for a while until you told him to just give up, to which Sihtric grinned and apologised. He said he'd walk you home but knew that wasn't a possibility, so he gave you a kiss goodbye before he opened the door for you.

'See you tomorrow?' you smiled shyly.

'Oh,' he sighed, 'I can't promise that. I won't have a lot of time tomorrow.'

'Oh,' you said softly and gave him a weak smile, 'I see. Well, good night then, Sihtric.'

'Good night, my lady,' he smiled and gave you a nod.

You walked back home, still flustered and happy that you finally had shared a bed with Sihtric, but you also felt a sudden deep sadness growing inside of you as you replayed your goodbyes in your head all night. You knew you'd give up everything for him, and figured it would be so much easier for him to express his feelings if you just told him you wished to be with him, leaving your Saxon life behind you.

********************

'Sihtric!' you smiled as you saw him approach the stables the next day.

'My lady,' Sihtric smiled, cautiously, before he placed his saddle onto a wooden fence.

You dropped the brush you had used on your horse and skipped over to Sihtric, wrapping your arms around his neck and you kissed his cheek.

'Oh, lady,' Sihtric chuckled nervously, holding his slightly hands up, away from you, 'you shouldn't-'

You hushed him as you kissed his lips quickly.

'No, stop,' Sihtric suddenly said and he shoved you away.

'What?' you asked, confused and shocked at the shove he just gave you.

'Don't kiss me.'

'W-what?' you frowned, 'but no one can see us here,' you smiled softly.

'Lady,' Sihtric sighed, 'I've enjoyed our secret kisses. And I enjoyed last night, but…'

'But... what?' you felt your stomach twist at his words.

'It was just a hump, nothing more. You can't just kiss me now whenever you see me. This, us,' he gestured to you, 'can never be. I thought you felt the same and just wanted a good time.'

You felt yourself become sick and stumbled a few steps back.

'So… I… you…' you stammered, 'I- I am nothing but a good time to you?'

'I don't know what you were expecting,' Sihtric continued and shrugged.

'But… I… I like you,' you suddenly said.

'Lady,' Sihtric scoffed, 'I am flattered, but I am not the right man for you.'

You needed a moment to collect your thoughts and watched how Sihtric turned away and picked up his saddle.

'You don't get to decide that for me,' you finally said while he saddled up his horse.

You watched Sihtric drop his head when he heard you speak.

'But I do,' he sighed and turned to face you, 'look, you're beautiful and smart and funny,' Sihtric said as he stepped closer to you, 'but you can't possibly think we have a future.'

'But I wish to leave with you! I will abandon my life here for you.'

Sihtric was taken aback by your words and rubbed his hands over his face and groaned.

'You're too young to make decisions like that,' he said curtly.

'But I wasn't too young for you last night?' you snapped.

'Lady, you know what I mean,' Sihtric hissed, 'you are just caught up in your feelings. I'm nothing more than a simple crush to you, you'll realise soon.'

'But I love you!'

'No,' Sihtric said harshly, 'you do not. You love the idea of me, lady.'

'Sihtric-'

'Do you even know what it's like? My life?' he spoke bitterly, 'I leave again tonight. And I don't know when I will be back, is that what you want? A man who you will barely see? A man who can't promise he'll return to you? Think, lady, use your brain, not your heart,' he sighed,' you will have no life with me. Nothing. I can't promise you anything, except that you will only ruin your name and your legacy if you'd be with me.'

'But, Sihtric, I-'

'Leave, lady,' Sihtric said, 'and forget about me.'

'If…. If I had known,' your voice trembled as you stepped back, 'that you were this heartless,' you let out a sob, 'I would have never given myself to you.'

You turned on your heels and walked away from Sihtric, allowing your tears to fall down your face when he couldn't see them. You heard Sihtric kick something over behind you with a grunt, but you never looked back over your shoulder.

And you never knew that Sihtric cursed himself for hurting you like that, or how he would take out his own heartbreak on his enemies during the next battle, slaughtering men as if they were the reason he could never be with you. And you would never know that he would only ever love you, and only you, for the rest of his entire life.

But it just wasn't meant to be.

#sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric fic #tlk #sihtric kjartanson

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leafyforreal · 9 months

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like i dont know how to articulate this but damian is whump bait.

he was raised and brainwashed by deadly assassins. he joins a pre established batfam who hate him. he joins a pre established titans team who also kinda hate him. he has zero emotional regulation in either direction. he’s more likely to equate his acts of service with his own self worth than anyone else in the family. he probably has a crush on jon and ra’s would not like that for so many reasons. he’s likely to believe that people are manipulating him when they tell him they love him. his trauma response to situations are to get angry and push others away. he overestimates his ability to look after himself. he’s the only son bruce didn’t choose. he underestimates his own capacity to care. becoming robin is how ur deconstructs his own trauma. coming to gotham is the beginning of the end for ra’s al ghul’s plans for him.

WHUMP 👏 BAIT 👏 why is he being snubbed in the ao3 tag. turn on your locations guys i just wanna talk.

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #i LOVE HIM #IN CASE YOU DIDNT KNOW

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reve-writes · 9 months

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—fault line; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2,5k words. ʚ in which you and leon were both agents working for different countries, with a little bit of shared history. ʚ set in re4 but non canon compliant; reader is implied to be working for a foreign government but not specified which; reader and leon have a history of a physical relationship. ʚ a/n — this took me so long to write and im not too proud of it anyway. it sat in my drafts for probably two weeks-ish purely bc ive been watching atla and abandoning tumblr. enjoy reading anyway.

Nearly two years had passed, and you remained missing the warmth of his bed and the crinkle of his sheets. Nearly two years, and it was the first time you had seen him. Leon Kennedy stood in front of you, the set of his shoulders were stiff as he exhaled, eyes cold blues, studying you.

All around you was foreign: foreign land beneath your boots, foreign houses with stone buildings and weathered red roofs separated by rivers and mountains. Leon was the only reprieve—something familiar, bringing with him a false sense of security which you clung onto like a starved man.

"Can't you leave me alone?" Bitterness spilt out of his lips. Your eyes flit to look at anything else but him: the dried mud on your boots, the rundown docks beneath them, the opaque water of the lake.

"I did not come here for you." This was true, at least. You had set foot in the rural village for answers—not voluntarily, though. This was your livelihood.

"Of course not," he drawled. "You'd have to care first."

Enough time had passed for the dull throb in your chest to cease, but it was hammering down on all of your senses. You tried to reign your thoughts in to no avail. They galloped out of control, reminding you of the months—seven—leading up to Operation Javier.

At the time, Leon was early in his career as an agent. Lonely, easily taken by someone he had met on an outing once. You. He hadn't suspected that you could be a foreign intelligencer, tasked to unearth the secrets buried with the destruction of Raccoon City. Leon was supposed to be your impossible task—surely someone who survived that night and was made a special agent wouldn't be so trusting, his life so easily infiltrated.

You had underestimated his loneliness.

He hadn't handfed you the information you siphoned back to your handler, but he practically gave you free access. They had been gathered from eavesdropping his calls from the other room, going over his correspondences while he slept next to you. Until he was sent to South America and you followed, discreetly, of course.

This time, you overestimated your stealth.

He found you out, unravelling your motivations and deception, witnessed by the Amazon rainforest during that very mission. You had escaped before he could turn you in to be interrogated, not caring to find out what they would do to foreign spies, nor could you stand the look in his eyes.

The blues, formerly jewel-like, now fractured. You didn't take into account your own isolation, too, when you took this mission, because somewhere along the way, Leon had stopped being a mark. He had left a mark on you himself, in a way.

"I should go," you said, strangely self-conscious. It was an odd feeling; your presence being so unwanted.

"Why are you here?"

"Your president's daughter being taken was a point of interest, but I have my own reasons." A sample of whatever is infecting people here. Half-truths and lying by omission came naturally to you. You couldn't remember a time when they did not.

"I suggest you don't meddle," he said curtly and stalked off. You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything and nothing at once. Settling for the latter, you turned away from the docks.

Was he insane?

You weren't proud to say that you had been keeping an eye on Leon. Your days in the rural village had been isolating and left you parched for any semblance of companionship. He was either a mirage or an oasis, you hadn't decided which just yet.

After the gross-looking humongous lake monster was defeated, Leon had slumped and lain on his back. At first, you assumed he was merely catching his breath, but he stayed there, unmoving. He was out cold, floating in a strange lake with strange residents all around.

He would be fine, right? It wasn't as if your help would be welcome anyway, right?

You exhaled before paddling a smaller boat towards his, half cursing yourself. There was your handler's voice in your head, mocking you, asking if you were really attached to this American agent and what it was that was so special about him.

Ah, Viper. You aren't actually saving him, are you? Leave the American. Focus on the task at hand.

The boat rocked under you as you stepped over into his. Maybe you could both be the monster's meal together now. Maybe it wasn't actually dead. Maybe it had a bigger, more evil twin swimming underneath the murky surface. You placed two fingers onto his neck, by his Adam's apple and slumped back in relief when you found the pulse.

When he woke up, you were sitting on one side of the boat, knees tucked towards your chest, half asleep yourself. You had moved the boat closer to shore, where it floated near the rocky lakeside. You could've stepped off and left—should have, but something, most likely stupidity, compelled you to stay.

He was startled, understandably so, consciousness still barely registering what was happening.

"You've been out for two hours," you said nonchalantly. "You just... passed out."

"And you've been, what, just staring at me?" His biting sarcasm had returned, but something seemed off. He was staring at his hand as if it wasn't his, turning it this way and that way, flexing and clenching his fingers. His hair moved as he tilted his head, grazing his cheek.

"I don't need to stare, I know what you look like," you replied. "You're welcome for making sure you didn't die."

He scoffed. "You certainly have your motives. That's what you do, isn't it? Pretend to care for what's best for everyone. When in reality, they suit your agenda and yours only."

You wanted to smack him across the head.

"What could be my agenda, Kennedy? Huh? What use could I possibly have you for?"

"A lot, apparently." He shot you a glare. "Did they promote you after Operation Javier? You're welcome."

"They did," you admitted, something akin to shame filled your stomach, but you pressed on. The first ever sample of the T-virus that your country had was courtesy to you. It wasn't even part of your mission. Your original mission had been to dig up information on Leon Kennedy and whatever biological disaster his country found itself in. "I'm paid double what I'm used to. I'm practically a national hero to my colleagues."

"Do you want me to shake your hand?"

"No, Leon! I want you to—I want—" You trailed off, surprised at the emotional reaction you were having. You cleared your throat, schooling your expression. "It doesn't matter. For whatever it is worth, I am sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He stood up and stepped over the side of the boat, boots sinking in the water that reached all the way to his knees. "Like you said, it doesn't matter."

He walked a couple of steps before turning to look at you over his shoulder. "No offense, but I hope we never see each other again."

"I think you're infected."

You had gotten the jump on him. It somewhat amused you, despite the grim castle you were in and the grimmer news you delivered.

"But you already know that."

He looked at you as if you were a petulant child who would not leave him alone. "I had my suspicions."

You followed him down the maze-like halls. "The damsel-in-distress is infected as well, but you knew that, too."

"What do you want, ___?" He said your name like it was a curse. You only shrugged in return.

"Answers, mostly," you said. "Who's doing this and why. That is what I was sent to do."

"What do you want from me?"

The two of you were speaking in hushed tones, trying not to alert the many infected residents of the old castle. Leon looked irritated, taking big strides across the carpeted floor.

"I'm wondering the same thing."

Leon halted in his tracks at your wistful tone, watching you with the intensity of a man witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime comet. As if he was trying to take all of you in before you disappeared for good. You were oblivious to this, stuck in your own head, trying to answer the question he had asked.

Leon broke himself out of the spell. "I don't have time for this."

As soon as he said that, you heard the mumbling of hostiles, just around the corner. Without thinking twice, you pushed Leon into an unlocked door in the hallway, closing the door behind you. Leon let out a startled noise and you placed a hand over his mouth, pushing him back against the wall.

It was a tight fit.

Dark, as well.

The only illumination you had came from the dim hallway, through the slit under the door. Leon's gloved hands found their way to your waist where they squeezed, like it was something he had done countless times before—it was. Your free hand clutched his shoulder as the voices approached your hiding space, hearts pumping anxiously for a long while even after the steps started to recede.

You both let out relieved sighs.

One of his hands slid up your arm to gently remove the hand covering the bottom half of his face. You swallowed. The immediate danger had passed, but proximity to him carried another type of danger in itself.

He breathed out your name, the sound so familiar to your ears and it made you lean into his touch. This was familiar—all of it was familiar. The way your heart roared at the warmth of him, your skin burned at the slightest touch.

"I shouldn't be wanting to kiss you right now."

His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. Softly, as if speaking anything above whispers might shatter the moment, he said, "No."

Yet his grip tightened and he pressed you closer towards him. His free hand found the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You had already stopped thinking straight. Without being able to see him clearly, you leaned forward, feeling his breath over you.

"This is a bad idea." You tried being the voice of reason, even as your eyes fluttered close and his nose nudged yours.

"You tend to have a lot of those."

Even as he said that, you could feel his lips brushing against yours. Your hand found the nape of his neck, fingers slotting through his hair. Chest-to-chest, you could feel how rapidly his heart was beating as he could feel yours.

You cursed under your breath, before finally pressing your lips against his. He immediately responded by tracing his tongue across your lips impatiently and you opened your mouth, tasting him again. His kiss was bruising, all tongue and teeth and eagerness. He pushed you back until you hit the wall behind you.

Like a drunken man, he said, "I missed you."

"I know," you said, tugging at his hair. "I missed you, too."

He abruptly stopped, shrinking away from you as if you were a scalding thing, burning him. His hand felt around the door, before finding the handle and pushing the door open. He took a deep breath as light filtered back in through his vision.

"Leon—"

"You should go."

He shook his head, swiping his palm over his face as if chiding himself. You reached towards him, but decided against it last minute, dropping your hand to your side. This was a mistake. All of it.

"Take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Leon didn't jump this time, as if he had already expected you to appear uninvited. He was sitting on the floor, leaning on the rickety metal bed where the damsel in distress—Ashley Graham—was currently unconscious on.

"He shouldn't have died."

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. There was something broken in him. His shoulders were slumped with weariness, clothes and skin dusted with blood and grime.

"Can I sit?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?" There was no malice in his voice, or any sign of annoyance. If anything, it was exasperation.

You leaned against the doorway. Tentatively, you spoke. "When you asked me what I wanted from you. I think I know now."

He opened his eyes and sat straighter to look at you, nodding for you to go on.

"I kept thinking about it and I don't think everything I did, I did for the mission." You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the floor. "I thought I was doing it all for the country. My country. I came to realise I'm not that much of a nationalist after all."

He scoffed. "Would you fault me if I didn't believe you?"

"Not at all. I expect you to be at least a little doubtful. Still, I wanted to say it: if we had met in another world—where you were just you and I was just me—I think we could have had it all. No duties or missions or political unrest. We could have made it."

You swallowed. Never had you thought a truth so bitter and sad could spill out of your mouth.

Leon laughed—a joyless, brief sound that tugged at your heart. "What are you trying to say, ___?"

"I'm sorry that I'm not just me," you replied, wringing your hand with anxiety. "I wish I was."

"Why not?" He stood up and approached you, each step relighting the suffocated embers in the ashes of your past. "You said it yourself, you aren't much of a nationalist anyway."

"The same reasons you can't quit being an agent." You let out a sigh, noticing the blue-black veins pulsing all over his forearm. "You have to get the cure soon, Leon. Your friend was telling the truth, that's all I know. I wish I could have helped more—they're sending someone to get me out soon, and I suggest you do, too."

"I'm not planning to die here."

"Your plans have a penchant for going awry."

For the first time in a really long time, he grinned at you. It felt as if everything in the world would go as it should, that nothing could ever go wrong. Like ice over a burn, a hot drink on the coldest day. What a smile to have.

Ashley stirred behind him.

"I'll be off, then," you said. "Be careful. I wish I'd seen you again sooner."

"Then come see me after we get out of here."

You shook your head. "I'm rubbing off on you. You're having horrible ideas."

"Leon?"

He turned around to find Ashley rubbing her eyes and waking up. When he turned back to say his goodbyes to you, you were already gone.

[ ]

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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angriel · 1 year

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Eywa's Chance: Now I know Pt. 4

Warning: Widowed! Jake Sully, Warrior! Reader, Sexual Themes (will put signs), Angst, Absolutely Ass Writing, 17+, Violence, War, Chaos, Peace. Skypeople reader, Jake x Reader

Again...

Jake woke up with (Y/n) on his chest it seems that he's cuddling you, he stares at your face and touched it. He couldn't understand why he feels his heart tug when he sees you. He's not sure if it's because you're like Neytiri or it's been a long time since he felt those mixed emotions.

You tossed in your sleep and moaned "please don't", his ears perked up and he instinctively wrapped his tail around your leg and he brings you closer to him. He caressed your back as if to comfort you from your nightmare.

Unknown to him you woke up from his tail wrapping around your legs as he brings you close, you panicked internally while keeping your eyes shut. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! IS JAKE THE FUCKING SULLY, THE OLO'EYKTAN AND THE ONE AND ONLY TORUK MAKTO OF THIS LIFETIME HUGGING YOU?! You aggressively thought to yourself. You thanked Eywa that Jake couldn't hear your thoughts, because if he did his he'll have his stupid smirk plaster on his face.

"I know you're awake (Y/n)" Jake Said while looking down to you, "Shit" you whispered and you know he heard you "enjoying this babe? " He teased you while Holding back his laugh. You Immediately broke his hug and stood up, he watched you in amusement and stood up too.

"Get ready we'll continue our training" He casually said. Now you don't know if this man is playing with your feelings, calling you pet names, embracing you and consoling you for a moment, and then proceeds to act casually to you and ignoring your existence.

He walked up to you and whispered "Be a good girl today so we could finish earlier m'kay?" those words shot electricity throughout your body, you stumbled and he caught you with his right hand supporting your stomach area. "whoah there" he said, you decided to run out of the tent and go outside.

Jake knew how dangerous it is when your link with your avatar was interrupted, so he decided to teach you how to hunt using a bow. And there you are perfecting the form of firing a bow, he scans your form circling around you he made some adjustments on your back and lifted your arms higher.

"Take a deep breath in and then shoot at the target" he said, you followed what he said and your arrow went straight into the bullseye earning a whistling praise from him. " Damn girl you're a natural at this " He said with astonishment.

"What can I say? Never underestimate the power of a sniper user" (Y/n) said proudly as her ears and tail moved slightly, "Don't overestimate yourself babe" Jake firmly said. "Try and shoot these" He said while quickly throwing 3 fruits on the air.

You moved while aiming at the 2 of them, you successfully shot it and jake whistled again. When you were about to shoot the other one you suddenly tripped at your own feet and fall with your face first, Jake Chuckled at your clumsiness and catched the fruit he threw and ate it.

"See? told you, don't overestimate yourself darling" He said while chewing on his food. "Ever heard of don't talk while your mouth is full?" You argued back and he threw his arms up as if surrendering to your little bickerings. You rolled your eyes and picked yourself up.

After some time your muscles ached all over as Jake forced you to use the Bow over and over again, you silently cursed him on your head but still comply because you're afraid in making him mad.

"Stop" he commanded, You stopped what you're doing and raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him why. "let's go, we're done for today" he said in a monotone voice. Well that was weird. First he cuddles you, give you pet names and then staring at you weirdly.

Unbeknownst to you Jake is fighting with himself, he knows that you're not Neytiri and you're your own person but he can't help but see the similarities. He ended the lesson and turned his back from you to go to his banshee, knowing you're following him he mounted his ikran and supported you as you climbed on.

" Hold tight, NEYTIRI. " The name of the person he always longed for slipped out of his mouth, you were confused and you feel a pang of pain rising on your chest. "Who's Neytiri?" You asked, but he immediately commanded his ikran to fly back home.

Even after you were both home you can't help but remember what he said to you, who was Neytiri? And who is Neytiri to him? You tossed and turned failing to get some sleep. You know you needed rest for tomorrow but you can't get the name Neytiri out of your mind.

You thought of that name until the sun rises and you knew that you're fucked. You went out of your tent to do some stretches and waited for Jake, a few moments later you saw the familiar Male Na'vi approaching you. You waved at him and greeted him but he didn't pay you any attention and somehow he got colder to you.

You didn't know what happened between you two, all the moments of you two joking during training and the pet names he called you are no more it's like you're with another person. It all went downhill when he said that name and you're determined to know who that is.

A few months have passed and he kept giving you mixed signals, where he calls you pet names and being flirty and all and then he suddenly gets cold to you and ignoring you. He's fucking your feelings up! And today is your last straw.

You decided to confront him and you know that it has something to do with Neytiri, that name lingered in your mind every night from the pass few months and it made your performance in your training drop.

He scolded you because of your lousy form in your archery skills, "What the fuck? I said straightened your back not arch it darling" He said while adjusting your torso, "And this arms fucking straighten it" He said getting annoyed each second.

You're getting annoyed too and the built up frustrations from the past months suddenly exploded. "You know what? I can't take this anymore. FUCK YOU JAKE SULLY" You said while throwing the bow on the ground. He stared at you whil you're walking away, he clicked his tongue and suddenly he took your arms and pinned you against a nearby tree with your hands up above your head.

"What did you fucking say?" He said while his eyes darken, you don't know where in Eywa's name you found a courage to fight back but you did. "I said Fuck. You Jake. Sully" He growled and pinned you harder against the tree. "you're getting braver aren't you? You little bitch" He said while he moves his face near yours.

"Yes! I am! Why do you do this to me huh?! Are you playing with my goddamn feelings?!" You screamed at his face, his hard gaze soften and his ears pulled back as his grip on your wrists started to loosen. You took this opportunity to free yourself and put a distance between you two.

"Wha-? I-" Jake stumbled at his words unable to say something appropriate to you, you shot him a deadly look and proceeded to comfort your wrist with an already forming bruise. "You keep sending me this mixed signals Jake! I can't ignore this anymore" You said way calmer than before as tears made it's way to your eyes.

"The way you keep calling me pet names, the way you flirt and touch me. It hurts Jake, it hurts" you said with your voice breaking. "Why? Why are you hurting when you don't feel anything for me?" He stupidly said.

"You! - You Fucking Skxawng! Of Course I have feelings for you! You don't know how crazy my heart beats when you flirt with me and then ignore and be cold to me the next day! You know fucking nothing!" You said and you proceeded to run away from him, You run past him hitting his shoulder on the process as he contemplates what just happened. He stared at the ground for a few moments until he realized that you ran deeper in the forest.

"Shit" he whispered and proceeded to follow you, he kept shouting your name while searching for you worried that you're lost in this Pandoran Forest. He kept searching and searching until he found you in THE TREE OF SOULS. You were interacting with a wood sprite with tears silently fall down to your cheeks, the way the light of the tree illuminates your face was beautiful. You were Ethereal.

That's when he realize that he's silently falling for you from the past months, not because you're similar to Neytiri but because you're you. He silently watched your every move, every smile and every small chuckle you let out tugs at his heart.

He let's himself be seen by you and the smile on your face dropped, and not surprisingly his heart dropped too he hate seeing you hurt. "What do you want?" You said, not earning a reply to him you felt yourself got Angry and you turned your back at him.

"You know if you're only gonna make this worse don't! Because I -" You were caught off guard when he took your arms spun you around to face him and you felt him crashing his lips against yours, your eyes widened at his sudden action and you pulled out from the kiss.

"Please don't play with my feelings any more Jake, it's slowly killing me" you pleaded to him, but he just shook his head "allow me to explain" He said, he sat to the ground and you followed his actions.

Jake explained everything, including who Neytiri was and what happened to him when his mate died. You took pity on him but it doesn't justify the way he treats your feelings. "I lied to myself (Y/n) everyday when I see you my heart goes crazy. I kept denying everything because I still believe that Neytiri is the one for me but now I realized that I should follow my heart" He said while looking at you.

He grabbed some strands of the Tree of Souls and gave some to you, you took it and raised your eyebrow at him "You wanna meet Neytiri?" He said, You nodded and he grabbed his hair and connected his Tsaheylu with the strand, you followed his actions and did the same. You immediately felt a strong surge of energy and suddenly you saw Jake with a Female Na'vi.

Jake hugged the Na'vi and she hugged back, he turned to you and motioned for you to come. You did and greeted the Female Na'vi "Oel Ngati Kameie" she returned it and said " you have taught her well Ma Jake" She said.

"I'm (Y/n) nice to meet you, I assume you're Neytiri?" You asked politely. She nodded yes and she took your hands on her, she cups her hand on your face and examines your entire existence and finally said "So you're Eywa's gift to Jake, I'm happy Nga za'u ftu peseng?" she asked, " Za'u oe ftu'rrta" she chuckled.

"How Ironic" She said, she suddenly hugged you and whispered "Please take care of Ma Jake, I know you're Jake's new mate" You nodded and she broke the hug, you can see Jake teared up at the sight of his 2 mates getting along.

"For you Ma Jake take good care of her Rutxe? " She asked him and he chuckled and nodded, they hugged again and her ears perked up. "It seems I have to go now, Hayalovay, Eywa mengahu" she said, she pulled you two for a group hug and she slowly disappeared. You two were taken back at the tree of souls, and as you regained your consciousness there are certain names that flooded your mind.

You felt as if Neytiri sent you names, you mumbled the word strange. You turned your head to Jake you saw him crying his tears silently flowing down his cheeks. You suddenly hugged him and he hugged you back, you both hugged each other for a long time until Jake decided to break it.

"It's strange I keep hearing names on my head" you said to Jake. He looks at you and asks you what is it, "it's Neteyam, Lo'ak and Tuk?" You said while holding your head. "that's probably your hallucinations as it is your first time connecting with Eywa" he said. You nodded and then you stood up.

He stood up towering you as he was a few cm taller than you, he looks at you and hugs you, you hugged him back feeling his warmth on your body. You both went back to the High camp and before you go to your tent you stopped him and gave him a kiss on his cheeks, his eyes widened and he put his hands on his cheeks where you kissed him.

Before you entered your tent you said, "You know I kept wondering who is Neytiri, but after today's events. I finally got to meet her" you stopped for a moment to breathe deeply and then said.

"NOW I KNOW.."

Nga za'u ftu peseng?

(where do you come from?)

Za'u oe ftu'rrta

(I come from earth)

Rutxe?

(Please?)

Hayalovay, Eywa mengahu

(Until Next time, May Eywa be with you)

Tags:

@fluloa @cleverzonkwombatsludge @thatsenoughformelol @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @erenjaegerwifee @soxfix @dorck26 @vampsclassiffied @1950schick @lovekeeho @fanboyluvr

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nocasdatsgay · 5 months

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Ch. 1 of From the Shadows the Beast will Rise

Masterlist here/ Prequel “Chokehold” Here

Summary: Eris gets a visit from Azriel months later and is summoned to the Night Court.

Rated: M

Warnings (I forgot 😅): sexual themes, Azriel’s past trauma, discussion of mor’s trauma,

AO3 Link Here | Chapter 2

**Also read below**

It had been months since their last encounter, but Eris knew Azriel was watching him. He could smell hints of evergreen from the shadows in the far corner of his room in the Forest House. They had followed him around all evening, except during dinner when they had the right mind to make themselves scarce around his father. Eris reasoned it was probably due to his lack of responses to the letters in his study.

It was only when the smell got stronger he knew Azriel physically arrived. Anger flared for just a moment within. Azriel knew better than anyone the sensitivity of the wards on the house. However, Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead he schooled his features and looked down at the book he was reading and flipped the page.

“Are you going to hide in the corner all night?” He asked loudly, not bothering to read the text in front of him. When no answer came he sighed, annoyed. “I can smell you, idiot.”

Eris looked up to see Azriel step out of the shadows. He smirked at the displeasure etched into his features. Spymaster wasn’t used to being caught. Eris folded his page and closed the book, setting it to the side table. He let his gaze run quickly over the male in front of him.

“You have a lot of nerve coming into this house uninvited,” Eris folded his hands together in his lap and lifted his chin. “Just because I let your shadows linger doesn’t mean you’re welcome to enter.”

Shadows whirled around Azriel, more pronounced in the light casted from the fireplace. If Eris didn’t know any better, they seemed agitated as well. Azriel didn’t move, save for his wings twitching.

He glared at Eris. “Rhys wants to know why you’ve ignored his summons.”

Eris scowled. “Rhys overestimates his importance. He also underestimates mine. I’m not his citizen to be summoned. Maybe he should start asking politely; requesting instead of demanding.” Eris slumped back in his seat and grinned. “He’s so used to ordering you around like a dog, he forgets what it’s like to actually communicate with someone of decent intelligence.”

Azriel stepped forward. Eris didn’t ignore the glance he casted to the roaring fireplace before focusing back on Eris.

“You’re the one who begged for an alliance.” Azriel emphasized the word beg just enough for Eris to notice. He didn’t react even if trousers felt slightly tighter. “If you wish for Rhys to honor it, I suggest you stop being an entitled bastard.”

“Did he send you?” Eris snapped in reply. “Or did you come on your own to waste my time? I assume it’s the latter since Rhysand is fully aware of the stipulations of our bargain.”

Azriel crossed his arms. Shadows slid to the carpet, and Eris watched them creep forward.

“Where is your bargain mark, anyway?” Azriel tilted his head.

“I don’t have one.” Eris felt the cool touch of a shadow circling around his ankle.

“Has to be somewhere your father won’t see it,” Azriel mused. Another shadow circled Eris’s other ankle. “Does he weld the knife himself? Or does he make his guards extract information from you while he watches?”

Both shadows slipped up his pant legs.

“Himself.” Eris answered honestly. Phantom pains from all the times he’d been questioned lurked in the back of his mind. “It’s strictly politics. You should know; Rhysand would rather bloody your hands than his own. At least my father is willing to do that part himself.” If that stung, Azriel didn’t show it. “Call back your shadows.”

Shadows slid down his legs again, slinking out his pants and back onto the carpet. His eyes lost track of where they went when they merged with the others.

“Inside your left thigh.” A hint of smirk graced his lips. “Of course it’s somewhere slutty.”

“Are we done?” Eris finally stood and straightened his jacket.

“Only if you want to be.”

There was sincerity in those Hazel eyes. An offer. It was nighttime. Besides some guards, no one else was up at this hour. Eris debated for a split second if he wanted to risk it.

“Not in this house,” Eris replied after a moment, more softer than he intended.

Azriel nodded slightly. “Rhys did send me. He was wondering if you were dead.”

Eris laughed, the hollowness of it evident. “My apologies then, for disappointing you both. All of Pyrthian will know if I die before my father. My brothers would make sure of it with their bragging.”

Eris could have sworn there was a scowl on the shadowsinger’s face before he stepped back, disappearing and taking his shadows with him.

***

Eris waited two days after Azriel’s visit to send Rhys a letter. The meeting in the moonstone palace three days after the response was just as tedious as he anticipated. There wasn’t much he didn’t already know. He knew from his correspondence with Jurian that Koschei sent a warning to Vassa. He knew already of the efforts with Day Court to research; Lucien told him of that weeks ago.

He didn’t like his brother being the one in talks with Helion but vocalizing it would draw suspicion none of them needed. The only surprise of the meeting was the presence of the middle Archeron sister, Elain. She sat silently beside Azriel, watching him. Eris waited until the end of the meeting to put his amber gaze towards her.

“You never explained why you’re here, little sister.” He loved the way she scowled at him and bristled at the sarcastic endearment. “Are you even still to be my little sister? I can never tell with the way you string him along.”

He heard a scratching of wood. Probably Feyre’s claws since she hissed at him. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Why not? We’ll be family eventually.”

He turned to Rhys and Feyre and he smirked at his correct assumption. He felt Azriel’s glare and a shadow slip around his ankle. He kicked out his foot, shooing it away. He then felt a claw against the wall of his mind. He mentally sighed and opened a crack in it. It was Rhys who spoke to him.

Why do you always cause problems? Elain is here for a reason.

What reason is that? I thought her sole job was to ensure Lucien stays tethered to your court.

Eris shut down his walls again when Rhys growled at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They always acted as if they were above court politics; like they weren’t playing games of their own. Eris leaned back in his seat, debating if he should just leave them to stew. But Elain kept her doe eyes focused on him. He stared back.

She whispered, “Autumn blooms wilt without the sun.” He furrowed his brows at her but she continued. “They weep for the lost fox and the slaughtered hounds. They weep for the sunlight.”

“Poetry?” He cut his eyes to Rhys and Feyre.

Elain continued and a chill went down his spine. “Only out of the shadows, will the beast rise. Autumn blooms make the path. If they falter the beast shall fall to the depths. The blooms will be set ablaze and burn to ash.” She blinked and looked at him like she was just now truly looking at him. “Kill your father before he kills you, Eris Vanserra.”

Realization settled over him. Eris’s eyes cut to Rhysand. A scratch in his mind told him Rhys was listening.

A fucking seer?

Or poetry. Rhys physically smirked at him. Heed her warning Eris. Time is running out.

***

Eris could have lit his entire guest room on fire with the rage welling in him. Of course Rhysand was hoarding Elain away from his brother, not only for his allegiance but also her powers. A fucking seer. There hadn’t been one in Prythian since before he was born.

He continued to pace the room, chewing on his nail while he thought. The other sister- the witch, she lost her powers. He never anticipated she’d accept his marriage proposal when he asked but he wished she had. A waste of power. He didn’t know how Nesta lost her powers- his informants heard whispers of Feyre nearly dying in childbirth and Nesta used her power to save her and the heir. Now Elain, with her own abilities, was at risk.

His informants also told him of how a certain shadowsinger was close to Elain. Too close. A flower pendant necklace purchased by him was telling enough. Probably an order from Rhysand to keep Elain occupied while putting just enough distance between her and his brother. It kept Lucien tied to Night Court without risking him taking Elain away. He scoffed loudly. Rhysand and his games, an annoyance to the world.

Eris stopped, dropping his hand when he smelt the air change. He waited and turned to the opening of the bathing chamber. There stood Azriel, his shadows a frenzy around him and making him look more dark and broody than usual. Eris slid his hands into his jacket pockets.

“And what do I owe for this visit, Azriel?”

Azriel walked up to him. Eris watched the shadows try and reach out to him when he stopped within arms reach.

“I told you to stop antagonizing Mor. I didn’t mean for you to start taking your shit out on Elain.”

“Does she know what you did in this room, Azriel? Does she know you rutted like a mindless beast atop her mate’s brother until we both came undone?” Eris sneered when a hand came around his throat. “You think I don’t know about that? You’re the one who pursues her knowing she’s mated. And knowing you like to fuck males. Don’t act angry about it now.”

“I’m sick of your fuckin mouth.” He squeezed before shoving him back by his throat. “You’re the one who begged for a lesser male to choke you. Choke you until you came from that alone.”

Eris coughed, stumbling back and throwing out his hands for balance. “I asked politely. That isn’t begging.”

“You asked because I told you to. You think you’re better than me but you’d get on your knees and choke on my cock if I pulled it out. Do you even like females? Is that why you left Mor to die?”

That was the wrong thing to say to him. Eris felt his temp rising and he set his arms ablaze with his magic.

“When will you brutes let that shit go?” Eris stalked up to Azriel, who took just as many steps back. “You found her, didn’t you? I smelt your fucking shadows even back then. I smelled them coming. If I took her, she would have been murdered by my father.” Eris let the rage blind him as he cornered Azriel against the wall. “I’m not the one who put a nail through her womb to make sure that bastard’s seed didn’t take. Stop blaming me for her father’s doings.”

He would have kept going if the smell of pure terror hadn’t reached his nose, snapping him out of his rage. He realized several things at once. Azriel was utterly still, wings tucked tight and eyes glazed over. Shadows covered his hands until they were no longer visible. Shadows also circled Eris’s arms as if they could suffocate the flames dancing on them. Eris shook out his magic and stepped back, shadows disappearing with the flames.

Eris always knew those scars on Azriel’s hands were from burns. He knew because he had burn scars of his own, just hidden. Azriel seemed to come back to himself but the shadows didn’t leave his hands. Eris glanced down at them.

“Who gave you those scars?”

Azriel slumped against the wall, wings drooping in a slump. He blinked a few times before responding. “My brothers. I try to not,” he shook his head. “I normally don’t let it bother me. But the way your magic,” he stopped again, like he might be ill if he opened his mouth.

“I won’t do it again,” Eris whispered.

The shadows eased away from Azriel’s hand and Eris grabbed his wrist. Azriel jolted but didn’t yank his arm away. Eris knew he shouldn’t but he traced the scarring with his other fingers while he held up Azriel’s hand with his own.

“For what it’s worth, I like your scars.” A confession he said so softly he wasn’t sure he even spoke it aloud. “What happened to your brothers? After they did this.”

Azriel snatched his hand away. “Nothing happened.” Eris cut his eyes to see Azriel scowling. “Don’t patronize me, Vanserra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eris straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “Stay away from my brother’s mate and we’ll call it even.”

“Jealous?”

One of his shadows floated away and brushed against Eris’s cheek, wrapping around to file through his hair. Azriel’s eyes tracked it while he scowled. Eris pulled a hand from behind his back and lifted it. More shadows came and twirled around his fingers.

“Something tells me jealousy isn’t necessary.” Eris shook away the shadows. “You should go. Keir will be here and the last thing I need is him thinking I’m in good graces with Rhysand’s inner circle. Unless you plan on fighting me as a cover.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Keir wants to smell how you react when I fight you.” Azriel then stepped back and slipped away into the shadows.

#azris fanfiction #azris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #from the shadows the beast will rise #y’all better know I care cause I posted this here AND on ao3 #I ain’t editing shit btw #an excuse for az to call eris slutty tbh

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