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bunnysbrainrot · 9 months

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No Vacancy - Day One

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, nothing spicier yet

Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

A/N: shout-out to all the Sam lovers, this one’s for y’all (me included tbh) **forehead kiss**

————

“Well,” Sam said, his hands gripping the steering wheel, “I think this is literally the only motel in town.”

And he was right. The two of you had scoured the area for over an hour, driving block after block for any other place to stay. This lone motel was far from where you needed to be for the case, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“That’s what you get in a small town, I guess,” you reply, grabbing your backpack from the floor of the car. Of course, Dean couldn’t fathom letting the two of you borrow Baby, so you had to get another ride. Thankfully, Sam had his own car in the garage of the bunker, a newer one with polished leather seats yet less flashy than the Impala.

Sam parked the car and cut off the engine, letting out a sigh.

You looked at him, tilting your head in concern, “At least we can rest, now. We can shower up and turn in for the night.”

Sam nodded in relieved agreement - the past few days had worn you both thin, exhausted and in need of proper sleep. The two of you stepped out of the car, grabbed your duffles from the back seat, and walked to the lobby of the motel to rent your room.

The clerk at the desk was not a talker, the silence in the room feeling uncomfortably thick. Sam nodded to the man with a terse smile and guided you back outside.

“That guy definitely wants to go home,” joked Sam. At last, you reached room 115, your final spot for the day. You stretched your aching neck as Sam unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Crap.”

“What is it?”

“I think we were given the wrong room,” Sam continued, stepping out of the room to let you peer inside. A single king sized bed sat against the wall, with no other place to sleep. You turned to Sam, who had already made his way back to the main office. You waited for him for a few moments, seeing him return with a remorseful look.

“What’s up?”

“That’s the only room left,” Sam explained, “you wanna stay here anyway? They didn’t have a cot, but we can figure something out.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You waved dismissively, giving Sam an embarrassed smile, “Don’t worry, we’re both adults here. Sharing a room doesn’t bother me.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, contemplating the next step. He shrugged and opened the door to 115 again, leading you inside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished - just the bed, an armchair, and the TV sat on a minuscule set of drawers. You placed your bag down next to the lonesome armchair, and sat down to remove your shoes.

In front of you, Sam paced at the foot of the bed.

“They, uh… didn’t have a cot, so I’m not sure how you’d want to go about this.”

You kicked your boots to the side and glanced up at him.

“Scared of sharing a bed, Sam?”

If you were being honest, you were petrified of the idea. Ever since joining this self-proclaimed ‘Team Free Will’, Sam had been the one you’d gotten closest to. Before they took you in, you had been more reserved and quiet. A more nerdy type of person; Sam was the perfect guy to buddy up with. You both had a passion for research, to Dean’s dismay.

“So we finally have a chick on the team, and we get another nerd?” He had teased.

Despite Dean giving you shit for it, you had never felt more welcome into a group. There was a sense of purpose, a motivation to save people from monsters. With your help, the world would be a safer place for those unaware of what lurks in the shadows.

Bringing you back to reality, Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You retorted, “And why would I be uncomfortable with you?”

He quipped, “I mean, how often have we been forced to share a bed?”

He had a point, and your brave façade of nonchalance wouldn’t last much longer. Sure, if you both kept to a side of the bed, fully clothed, it would leave the fewest issues. But the butterflies in your stomach told you that this may not be something you could handle easily.

Your mind raced back to a memory of a case three months back, out in Tennessee. It was another shapeshifter, and it was hard for Sam and Dean to gather intel about much of anything. It was Dean’s foolish idea to send you and Sam to question the local townsfolk, masked as a tourist couple to keep your anonymity to a maximum. That time spent with Sam opened your eyes to what you had been missing for a shamefully long time. Love, or at least what felt like it.

Although it had been an act, the sweet gestures Sam had to uphold for the charade won your heart. He opened each door for you, kissed your cheeks, held your hand, the whole nine. Everything he had done drove you wild. Except, the one thing he never did was press his lips to yours. It seemed like a sick game of Dean’s pairing you up like that. You made sure to give him shit for it, telling him how embarrassing it was to have two friends act like a couple. What Dean didn’t know was the secret gratefulness you had for his plan.

At one point Dean did suggest you liked Sam, to which you denied, fumbling over your words like an idiot. He had shrugged it off, but now you wondered if that interaction inspired him to cut you off from him and Castiel. You silently cursed that damn Winchester for it.

“Never, but it’s just for a couple nights, right? We’ll share ghost stories and braid each other’s hair. It’ll be fun,” you joked, having walked over to Sam and patting his arm.

You went to the bed and furiously fluffed each pillow - the ones in motels were notoriously limp. Next you shook out the blanket. You hated the way it stayed cold when it’d been pulled taught to the mattress all day. Of all fun facts about you, Sam found that the most endearing. He hadn’t told you before, but he’d always been keen on your quirks. Simply put, he loved that he wasn’t the ‘weird one’ anymore.

Getting comfortable on the bed, Sam flopped down, still fully dressed in those tough denim jeans and signature red flannel. Your eyes grazed over him as he closed his eyes from exhaustion. Your pajamas were in your duffel, so you fumbled for them before heading to the bathroom to change. The sound of the TV muffled against the door - it seemed to be one of those dramatic crime shows you and the brothers scoffed at.

Pajamas was a loose term for the oversized t-shirt and mid-thigh sleepshorts you wore to bed. If you were alone maybe you’d have worn far less. Sam had removed his shoes, at the very least. You dimmed the lamp in the corner of the room and settled onto the bed. Then that was it, the exhaustion of today had finally gotten to you. It took everything in you to not let your mind drift off to sleep.

“We gotta go into town tomorrow?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah,” his voice honeyed with a groggy softness, “we should talk to the families of the victims. Figure out if these really were ‘accidents’.”

“FBI? Police? Ooh, maybe church officials?”

Sam let out a breathy laugh at your joke, the husk of his voice reverberating through you. God, it could be absolute torture to be around him at times. When the stress of hunting melted away, and you two could be your real selves.

“Just FBI, Cas is on standby as our ‘supervisor’.”

You looked to him fully, “Cas is our supervisor? And Dean actually trusts he can do that? Cas doesn’t know the first thing about the FBI.”

“Eh, Dean thought it could be good for the ‘people skills’,” Sam replied, finally opening his eyes at turning his head to you. Suddenly the two feet between you felt like mere inches. Your breath caught in your throat; you couldn’t reply even if you tried, so you opted for a small smile. Sam countered it with one of his own - the flashy grin that melted your heart more each time.

“We’re gonna have to get up so early. I’m not too excited for that.”

Sam’s face softened, his voice lowering, “We should get some sleep, then. You good with that side of the bed?”

You nodded, rising out of bed to switch the lamp off. The light from the TV drew Sam’s sights to you, loosely shrouded by your shirt and shorts. His eyes raked over your bare legs, wandering up your thighs until your shorts stalled his imagination. Sam followed suit and stood, but walked to the bathroom with a handful of clothes plucked from his bag.

A moment later he returned to see you under the covers, hunched over from the cold. Whatever those shitty detectives said on the TV drowned out as you noticed Sam. Just then you realized you had never seen him wear anything but a suit or his regular garb. Even in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, he managed to catch your eye.

He caught your eye contact and smiled once more, that familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. You reached over and lifted the covers for him, letting him settle on his side of the bed.

“Do you sleep with the TV on?” You asked softly.

“No, do you?”

You gave him a small laugh, closing your eyes, “Nope. Keeps me up too late.”

Sam smiled. A part of him was relieved that he could get some proper rest with you here. Dean had the habit of leaving the TV on, depriving him of countless hours of sleep.

Even though they were rare, Sam appreciated these moments alone with you. It was easy to be with you. It was easy to laugh, to open up, to ramble on about whatever lore he had obsessed over. He loved the way your eyebrows tugged together when you didn’t understand something, and the way you tried piecing words together before asking your questions.

The A.C. unit cranked on beside the bed, pumping freezing cold air on your back. You shivered, curling into yourself to keep the warmth in.

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Hey, are you cold? I can turn the A.C. off.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up in a minute,” you insisted. Sam sighed, knowing you wouldn’t say yes, and turned the unit off.

He quickly settled back into bed, letting out a shuddering exhale. You waited until he shifted under the covers to speak.

“You cold, too?”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

In the faint light of the TV you could make out his smile. A part of your mind drifted off to a place where that smile met you every day, lounging around in bed. Sam’s hands would run across your skin and tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth to his before making you breakfast.

The room dimmed as the television went silent. You and Sam shifted under the covers for a moment before getting fully comfortable, the silence of the room felt like a bated breath.

Sam broke it first, “These blankets don’t really do their job, do they?”

You replied to him, “Not a damn bit. It’s freezing in here.”

“You can, uh… move closer if you need to,” his voice wavered. The silhouette of his form moved to face you, dimly lit by the light from street lamps in the parking lot. You could make out his sharp cheekbones and the chestnut brown hair draped around his neck.

When another shiver won your body over you took the offer, moving closer to Sam until your arms touched. Now inches from one another like you’d wished, your mind went blank.

It took everything you had to remind yourself what this was, well, wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the lust-driven breakthrough you had hoped for. Nor would it be the time for Sam Winchester to take you the way you ached for. An awkward, strictly business sleeping situation.

You let your mind wander off, the waves of exhaustion turning into the gentle lull of sleep. You could’ve sworn you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you warm.

————

By the time you woke up, Sam was still fast asleep. You had never seen him like this up close, with his eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowed. The image painted itself into your memory.

You were right, though, Sam had laid his arm over you. And now both had enveloped you close to his chest, rising and falling steadily against your ear. It took twenty more minutes for Sam to wake up.

He stirred until he noticed you flush against him, and he stilled completely. You wiggled in his grip to look up at him.

With a groggy smile you greeted him, “G’morning.”

“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, “sleep okay?”

You gave him a simple nod, regaining your composure. You scooted yourself away to give him the space that should’ve been there all night. Even though a part of you crumbled as you did, you padded out of bed to the bathroom.

“At least we know to turn off the A.C. tonight. Maybe a room with two beds will open up while we’re out, and we can switch.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak before you closed the bathroom door. What he was going to say escaped him.

He just hoped no other rooms opened up before the evening.

Thank you for your support, everyone! Day two will be here soon

- Bunny

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #writing #fic writing

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doodle-pops · 21 days

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Insufferable Beginnings

Turgon x reader

Request: Turgon x reader, enemy’s to lover in Valinor, angst?… (help I live the enemy’s to livers trope to much 😭😭) - Anon

A/N: I originally wanted to keep this short, like under 3k, however, dialogues became my weakness and I fell in love with the hating each other a little too much. However, I do hope that this was good enough to your liking. Apologies if it’s too long. Enjoy!

Warnings: female reader, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au, angst/comfort, arguments, insulting one another, a knife gets drawn (a butter knife), kissing, confessions, since it’s set in Valinor I used Quenya names

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: Arranged marriages when you and your millionth reason why were at each other’s throats was always the best way to introduce a new emotion on the battlefield and seek victory.

“Must you look so disparaging? It is our wedding, after all, cheer up and have a drink!” Turukáno sat beside you, or rather two feet away and towards the end of the table, leaving you to wallow in your bitterness. He managed to find your expressions throughout the entire day more entertaining than ever, it made the wedding interesting.

Casting a dreadful and bone-chilling side eye at your newlywed husband, your fingers twitched in your lap with unbridled rage to wrap them around his obnoxiously long neck and choke. However, he remained aloof under your threatening gaze and took another gulp for his sixth cup of wine for the night. Anything to avoid going home, sane, to a shared house.

“I’ll only smile if you disappear and leave me alone.”

He paused with the chalice against his lips, pondering before scoffing and taking a violent chug. Emptying the cup with an enthusiastic exhale and slamming it on the table, he reached for the vat of wine to refill. “So you can find yourself in the arms of one of your pathetic suitors or my cousins since you enjoy kissing their asses so much.”

“Anyone else would be a better company.”

“What’s stopping you then? I thought you loathed me with an unbridled passion to the point that you would do anything to make your life less miserable,” he half-heartedly muttered while gazing at the ruby liquid in his cup. “Or maybe you didn’t want to humiliate yourself knowing that no one else would accept you and your terrible personality.”

“What makes you think that one of your cousins would not accept me?”

“So it’s my cousins you’re interested in. Well, I think you and Tyelkormo or Atarinkë would suit each other well, especially with the similar personalities you all share.”

You growled through bared teeth, “Do not ill-speak of the House of Fëanáro. They are far nobler, skilled and of better status than you can ever be.”

“Ah, so you admit that your personality is dreadful then?” Awed by the revelation of your words, he flashed a blinding grin at you.

“You act as though your personality is perfect, and do not make this about me when it is not!”

“My personality isn’t perfect, but it’s better than yours,” he snickered and sat upright. “Besides, it is your wedding day, you are the centre of attention, so everything is about you.”

“You’re simply bitter and jealous that I would never choose you in a world of standards because you are as poor as your insults.” Flipping him off with a triumphant smirk, you crossed your arms and performed a mental victory dance at your comeback.

“Of course I am,” he muttered half-heartily as he slammed his chalice on the table once more and slumped deeply into his chair. As much as he wanted to leave the table, his grandfather and father were eyeing you down like hawks. “No power and no high status. Yet I was still chosen to be your future husband by the King.”

Not caring that he was being stared at, Turukáno exited the hall and rushed out of the palace to find a secluded spot for a bit of fresh air. He didn’t care about what became of you during the rest of the night. You could have returned to your parent’s house and left him alone in your supposed shared home or run off with his half-cousins, he would surely find something worthwhile to fill his time with.

Making his way through the half-empty streets of Tirion, he slid his body through a few alleyways before breaking into the hills and entering the outskirts of a small forest. A familiar path he took which led to a small pool—a place where he and Findekáno formerly commuted before his successful marriage—now became his fortress of refuge to his unbearable hater.

Being petty, bitter, and judgemental were common traits of the second son of Ñolofinwë, however, you brought the worst out in him. It was only the day you entered the picture with your desirous hatred towards him, his boring life became infuriating. There wasn’t a day you didn’t make his life a living hell.

Wanting nothing more than to refrain from continuing his thoughts on you before his head exploded, he undressed and took a midnight swim, spending the rest of his wedding with peace of mind. He would deal with you another day with the guarantee to make you regret hating him.

The first year of marriage was always described as challenging and for God’s sake how fucking true it was. You weren’t even past the first three months without wanting to launch objects at him, which you had already done numerous times before. But the point was that you wanted to launch the entire dining table at him for interrupting your peace of mind. Why did he have to show up at the same hour? Did he not have something more important to do like die?

“Can you not eat so loudly? It is breaking my concentration?” you retorted sharply.

“Then cover your ears. To eat I must; to hear, you can choose,” he lazily replied in a bored tone.

Your left eye twitched as did the cutlery in your hands as you pressed the knife and fork into the porcelain plate to evidently create a hairline fracture. Casting a look at the servants lined up on each side of the room with a monotonous expression, you felt a wave of embarrassment.

“What, no counter to my response? Finally realised how foolish you appear hating me unnecessarily?” he mocked.

Deeply inhaling, you managed, “I merely asked you to cease chewing so loudly. Is that not a possible task, something a Prince of your lowly status can adhere to?”

Countering without waiting for a second, he stated with plainness, “I must chew if I am to eat, don’t you know that or have you forgotten the fundamentals of eating?”

“Then don’t eat, starve and die.”

Turukáno’s lips twitched as he fought a sarcastic grin, instead, scoffing as his breathing fumbled before he lifted his head to gaze at you across the table. Your seated presence at the opposite end, surrounded by an array of candles left a glowing aura casting a glow on your figure to appear as some omnipotent being…a demon in sheep’s clothing.

“My dear, have you not paid attention to the tranquillity of the room? A pin drop can be heard; thus you will hear my chewing, same can be said for yours.”

“I do not chew loudly!” you snarled, visibly vibrating in your seat.

“Of course not, how rude of me. Where are my manners?” he satirically replied, casting a mocking smile at you; his turquoise eyes shining brightly under the glow of the candles. “Allow me to clarify, you yap like a goat.”

Springing from your chair, your palms came crashing down on the table, prompting the ornaments to tremble, even the servants shifted on their feet at the intemperate tension. “You should have care how you speak; it might be your last.”

“What are you planning on doing? Launching another poor object at my head and missing like you did in the last fifty attempts? Best of wishes, may your aim be true, or would you prefer I stand within three feet, so you don’t miss?” he snickered with a shake of his head.

Darkly whispered, you picked up your butter knife and stabbed it into the napkin. “I could end you right here and now,”

“How terrifying?!” he dully muttered and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Somebody save me!”

“Would you stop that!”

“Ah, so it would appear that I have struck a nerve?” Turukáno grinned delightedly and took a sip of his wine while appreciating the sight of you pointing your knife at him.

“You have been a pain in my ass since the day I met you!” you rumbled, jabbing the knife through the air towards his figure peacefully sitting unbothered.

Wanting nothing more than to bask in the glory this unnecessary argument brought, he rose from his chair and strolled around the table. Fingers gliding along the tabletop as he took his time to approach you, he appeared smug. “What you are telling me, is that I’ve always been on your mind? I’m touched. No one has ever thought of me so much as you did, my number one supporter and hater. Makes this union worthwhile because you can continue to think of me even more while allowing it to consume your every thought.”

At this point, Turukáno was standing before you as your body had turned to meet him head-on, the knife in your hand still focusing on him. Despite his towering figure, you were able to match his height with the passion in your eyes that made you grow. Those turquoise eyes of his darkened and narrowed into slits as the gazed down at you. No one dared to whisper a word, only the sound of heavy breathing which was still too soft for the other’s ears.

Suddenly, his left hand gingerly reached out to grab the wrist of your right, which held the knife and brought it to his throat. He knew you couldn’t cut him with a butter knife, yet he wanted you to realise your folly. The action urged the servants in the room to break their formation and panic as they looked on. He felt the trembling of your hand as he held onto it, steadfast, while the expression on your face spoke the reason for him. All bark and no bite.

“Do it,” he taunted with s whisper, gazing his playful eyes at your paralysed ones and pushing the knife harder against his skin.

You wanted to reply. Counter as equally as petty as his insults or even take actions, but the wheels in your body weren’t rotating. You didn’t know why, but the longer you stared into his slithered eyes; you noticed the ring of green around his iris, the small mole under his left eye and his neatly shaped wine-stained lips. His change in demeanour made him appear ridiculously attractive and you fought to deny it, but comparisons between him and the sons of Fëanáro’s beauty had already crossed your mind.

It outmatched a few of them.

You struggled to catch yourself the longer you focused on his face, grip on your knife slipping, yet the grip around your wrist tightened and tugged. Your lips parted and your head inched closer, grateful for your height, you were able to lean into his personal space, breathing in his air. Wine and spearmint. The alarms were blaring in your head that it was a precarious move you were making, but his standstill stature encouraged you to persist and bridge the gap.

Turukáno didn’t know who moved first, he or you; all he knew was that his hand gripping your wrist had tossed it over his shoulder, with the knife still intact, as his lips moulded against yours. It was full of anger, confusion and hidden truths as your bodies were entangled in an unceremonious form of solving the argument. Lips breaking apart to gasp for air, catching your breaths before returning to the task, his hands were busy cupping your cheeks to tilt your head to increase the vigour. He forgot—or rather, didn’t care—about the knife in your hands behind his neck as he pressed his body closer, wanting you to experience his heat, raging from the passion you sparked tonight.

Yet nothing was ever long-lived as you caught your biting his luscious lip and pulled away, gasping. Casting your eyes downwards, a questionable frown appeared. Unable to take the confusion and possible humiliation of the suddenness of the scene, you muttered a curt, “Excuse me,” and slipped out of his embrace, vacating the room while leaving him hoping.

You began to avoid him even more; more than what you normally would, yet failure was the start of something different. Your mornings were clashing, him showing up at the same time for breakfast, exiting and entering the house, and needing to share the same space. It was as if fate was playing a sick joke on you to remember your kiss. He appeared the same, refusing to bring it up and make any eye contact, however, his persistence to irritate and aggravate you never ended. The night of the dinner was just the beginning of him goading you to commit your desire.

Standing at the entrance of the drawing-room, you fixed your body behind the pillar that rested a vase and observed him. He appeared relaxed and a level of comfort you wished to achieve in the shared household. How was he able to be unbothered? Didn’t your presence usually provoke him? Was he not thinking about you the way you always thought about him?

“Cease your staring from behind the pillar, please. I know that I’m not the best-looking elf compared to your idolised house, so spare me your soft gaze as though you considered me,” he huffed and turned the page of his book without lifting his head to make contact.

Soft gaze?

“I was not gazing at you, I was glaring…” He was right, whether you were gazing at him or not, you were silently observing him. Clearing your throat to avoid making a fool of yourself, you stepped into the spotlight and clasped your hands together. “I was coming to call you, There’s an invitation addressed to you…and I.”

“My grandfather?”

“Hmm, a dinner party.”

The room fell into silence as you both took in the silent meaning behind the invitation. This was the first event after the wedding that would display the depth of your relationship with his family and others.

Turukáno’s eyes lifted off the pages to fall on your nervous figure standing in the doorway. No animosity or disdain was held in his eyes as they softened on your appearance; he almost felt sorry for the discomfort you were about to be placed in, similar to himself. Gatherings involving the entire family usually made him cautious and uninterested due to the typical outcomes.

“You can stay at home if you are uncomfortable attending. I’ll make up an excuse that you’re unwell and request tranquillity,” he suggested while shutting his book and placing it on the table.

Puzzled at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, you wrinkled your forehead. “What about your grandfather when he questions why you’re not at home looking after me?”

“I’ll make up some lie, whatever comes to mind,” he monotonously muttered, drifting his eyes to meet your astonished ones.

“Why?” Your question lingered heavily in the air like it weighed a ton. A sudden increase of pressure showered over you, leaving him wondering if he had made a mistake in his response to warrant your opposition.

“Why not? You’re not interested in meeting my family for known reasons, and if you want to stay at home, you are welcome to.”

“But don’t you hate me?” you delicately uttered. “You shouldn’t be concerned about how I feel or whether I desire to stay at home; you should ignore me like you have always been doing.”

Opening his mouth to counter, he closed it and dropped his gaze to your feet. The look of puzzlement decorated his face the longer he contemplated a response while reasoning with himself for the corner he was backed into. There was never a discussion he wasn’t able to counteract, but here you were causing him to fumble. A sharp look at your face, the squinting of his eyes and a nervous chuckle he conjured a response rattled off the tip of his tongue. “I don’t hate you; I don’t particularly like you, but ignoring you is incredibly difficult when you have an unmistakable aura that causes me to consider you in whatever way I can.”

His eyes widened at the acknowledgement of his words. Unable to feign his mistake, he rose immediately off the sofa and marched to the opposite exit of the drawing room.

“You…You don’t hate—”

“Forget what I said. Simply do whatever you want for the dinner, it doesn’t matter to me.” With that, he departed the room and rushed to his chamber, slamming the door.

In the following days, Turukáno had done his best to avoid you after his slip-up while you became fixated on decoding his grand speech and his nonchalance towards his actions. It wasn’t like him to use words which didn’t coordinate with his enmity-like personality. All the screaming, shouting, slamming the doors and throwing objects at each other died down, and all you received were his typical smart-ass comments which started carrying a two-meaning message. You were positively sure that he was not aware of his choice of words; he never mixed his vocabulary.

For the prim and proper Prince he was, he was enunciated.

Hence why you were gawking at him all night from behind a pillar, avoiding interactions with his siblings and cousins to observe his mannerisms. His face seemed to be a lot more relaxed, visibly pleased, lips stretched into a grin, and laughing. You had never seen him like this around you, it was a side he withheld during your arrangement, and it stung that you would never be fortunate to experience it due to his hate towards you. No sweet moments exchanged, smiles and words reserved only for you, or another kiss like that night.

Licking your lips and biting it, your fingers touched your lower lip as you held eye contact with his figure. The events of that night were still unexplainable.

“Staring at my brother.” The teasing voice of Princess Irissë came from your left before you felt her arm linking with yours and pulling you closer to her. “Well, you should be, especially after how great your relationship with him is going. Look at how much my brother is smiling; he’s talking about you.”

“Y-Your Highness?!”

“Relax. You can drop the formalities for now. It’s a family dinner and we’re all family, so call me nésa,” she laughed which resembled crystal bells tinkering.

Feeling overwhelmed by the plethora of information you consumed, your chest felt tighter all of a sudden, as though the dress shrunk. “I uh, do not understand what you mean by your brother. He is talking about me?”

Surely not good things, no wonder why he was smiling. Prattling his cousins’ heads about how terrible you were to live with. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, not realising how much you hoped for good things to be spoken about you.

“Of course he is! You’re his wife!” she exclaimed and gave you a small shake before guiding you away from the pillar. “He was asked to produce grandfather with a report at the start of the dinner in private, we were all there, and we heard him speak about how things are looking brighter, and that he’s pleased. So that means you two no longer hate each other and grandfather’s idea worked.”

Holding eye contact with her before looking at the wine in your hands, you felt uneasy at the explanation. “I guess it did,” you uttered in disbelief.

It didn’t take long for interrupting footsteps to break your concentration. Knowing the echo and presence before the voice rippled into your ear, your head snapped up to gaze at him already looking upon you with softer eyes and a tender smile. Your lips quivered as you bit back the urge to cry the longer you held his gaze, unable to focus on the sound emitting from his lips.

He was cruel and unkind to make you feel such a way.

“Is everything alright? You haven’t responded to a word I said,” he inquired worriedly, inching his head closer to yours. At this time, Irissë had slipped free and sauntered away to annoy her cousins, leaving you two to embark on your hateful-love relationship.

“I um, I.” Why was speaking so trivial? Just spit out your words for they were at the tip of your tongue. “I must speak with you, immediately.”

You had no time to witness the painful frown on his face as you swivelled and marched out of the ballroom with him following a few metres behind, confused. Exiting the room and meandering through the corridors, an earful away from eavesdroppers, you fumed in your mind at how careless you were to allow things to escalate to immeasurable heights. You couldn’t undo what had been done, not even the sea could wash it away. Though Turukáno hoped he had not said anything during the day to disrupt your tranquillity, he was most mindful of his words and behaviour due to his joviality.

“Have I said or done something to displease you, Y/N?”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” you shouted and spun on your heels to stand in the middle of the corridor and face him. “You, You, ugh, you infuriate me on levels beyond comprehension! How can you say those things so openly without disgust?”

“What things?! What have I said about you?!” he cried and took steps closer, still maintaining his distance.

“You–…I hate you! I hate how you…how you were talking about us and the house and how things are getting better! Or how you were smiling and happy and laughing and making everything seem like it is perfect and great when it’s not because I hate you!” Your temper flared as millions of reasons raced across your mind, and yet you were able to stutter out jumbled words, making a smile stretch across his face. “I hate the way you look at me with those eyes and I hate the way you look at others because you’ll never genuinely look at me like that. I want your eyes on me, but you’ll never because of how I hate you!”

“You hate me?” he questioned in an affectionate teasing voice.

“Yes, I do! Because ever since this arrangement began, you made me feel crazy and I found myself unable to think of anything else! I am utterly consumed by you, and I hate it! I’m supposed to hate you!”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe and glared at him through the crystal droplets. You knew he was looking at you the same way you wanted and hated. Your emotions were truly a bitch who couldn’t make up its mind.

Turukáno grinned and took more steps to bridge the distance between you both. Standing three feet apart, he looked down at his boots as his voice rumbled in his chest. “I know and I accept this,” he softly whispered. “I’m not the best at emotions, but I also hated you till it was aggravating. You were constantly on my mind every second of the day, consuming and leaving me thinking about you more than I breathed. I thought of everything about you, even your insults. You were able to contest me, a feat no one else could muster and still stand facing me; I enjoyed the pleasure it brought, drinking and desiring more. Then I started seeing you as my equal and no longer my source of hate, but my reason to look forward to each day. I considered you and thought about you too much, I bent the knee before you…”

Standing there baffled, you wanted to know who this individual was.

“I know, I know,” he shrugged. “I’m not great with emotions so it was impossible for you to notice my changes. I thought I was subtle, and neither are you.”

“Excuse me?! You’re telling me about how I feel?” you sniffled.

“You claim to hate me, but you don’t,” he breathed as he finally bridged the gap, standing in the same proximity as the kiss. His fingers twitched with urgency to hold you again as they remembered the last time they held you closely. “You don’t tell someone you hate them; you show them, make them feel it. And how you feel for me is what I feel for you, it was only masked by hatred.”

Scoffing with a teary eye roll, allowing a few drops to roll down your cheek, you countered with a teaspoon of attitude, “What do you know about how I feel? You’re just a foolish Prince who thinks he knows people better than themselves.”

Lifting his hands, he was allowed to cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears. Smiling along with his thoughts, he felt relieved that your flame had not been diminished. “Of course I am, but you’re no different. Foolish for hating me till it makes you look ridiculously in love.”

“You should stop talking because you’re not making any sense like you always do.”

“Then silence me if you dare.”

The silence that followed rang sharply in your ears as your eyes locked and dropped to each other’s lips.

This time, you were aware of who had made the first move when your lips moulding against one another. Grinning into the kiss, this time you were able to bite his lower lip without feeling disgusted as it only deepened the kiss, causing him to groan from your actions. Turukáno’s hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your head higher to allow him to take over the kiss while your arms contently encircled his slender waist. There were a few blissful sighs and breaks to take in air as you lazily kissed in the open corridor, unconcerned by the possibility of being trespassed upon. Regardless, Turukáno had the decency to break away first with his soft turquoise eyes roaming your face, landing on your lips one last time before exhaling.

“Tell me,” he muttered affectionately. “Do you still hate me?”

“Irrevocably.”

“And do you hate me for getting us into this arrangement?” he asked again.

“No,” you gently murmured. “I can live with it.”

“Then that is enough for me.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist link to join.

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godsspecialestlittleguyskirmish · 4 months

Text

The bracket is here! Full list of matches under the cut! If there is any information that would disqualify a contestant, please let me know!

Furina [Focalors] (Genshin Impact) vs Neku Sakuraba [Joshua/Yoshiya Kiryu] (The World Ends With You)

Rand al'Thor [The Creator] (The Wheel of Time) vs Hua Cheng [Xie Lian] (Heaven Official's Blessing)

Waxillium Ladrian [Harmony] (Mistborn) vs Rei/Akari [Arceus] (Pokémon Legends: Arceus)

Jonathan Sims [The Ceaseless Watcher/The Eye] (The Magnus Archives) vs Anakin Skywalker [The Force] (Star Wars)

Kirby [Kirby] (Kirby) vs Jayfeather [Starclan] (Warrior Cats)

Scout [Christian God] (Team Fortress 2) vs Mobei-Jun [Shang Qinghua/Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky] (The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System)

Temenos Mistral [Aelfric the Flamebringer] (Octopath Traveler 2) vs The Hollow Knight [The Pale King] (Hollow Knight)

Optimus Prime [Primus] (Transformers) vs Eugenides [Eugenides] (The Queen's Thief)

Yoo Joonghyuk [The Oldest Dream/Kim Dokja] (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint) vs Xie Lian [Jun Wu] (Heaven Official's Blessing)

Kiriona Gaia [John Gaius] (The Locked Tomb) vs Dean Winchester [Chuck/Christian God] (Supernatural)

Link [Hylia] (The Legend of Zelda) vs Simon Petrikov [Golb/Golbetty] (Fionna and Cake)

Aeneas [Venus] (Virgil's Aeneid/Homer's Iliad) vs Kim Dokja [tls123 + Uriel] (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus [John Gaius] (The Locked Tomb) vs The Dark Urge [Bhaal + Jergal] (Baldur's Gate 3)

Cecil Gershwin Palmer [Huntokar] (Welcome to Night Vale) vs Ezra Bridger [The Force] (Star Wars Rebels)

Joker/Akira Kurusu/Ren Amamiya [Yaldabaoth] (Persona 5) vs Jesus Christ [Christian God/his dad] (The Bible)

Shadowheart [Lady Shar] (Baldur's Gate 3) vs The Penitent One [The Twisted One] (Blasphemous)

#any poll blogs following youre welcome to rb this since its been so long since i started this

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

Note

i want Steve - Haunted more than i could possibly say

i refuse to think more than 5 seconds about it critically

just know

i am on my hands and knees

haunted (steve's version)

warnings: technically canon compliant (aka the upside down is happening), severe angst, pretty much hurt no comfort.

wc: 1.6k+

an: hi. i love you. i'd say i'm sorry, but i don't think i really am. this probably isn't what you meant by any means but when i hear this song and think of steve all i can think about is that moment in s4 between him and eddie waah. (also, reminder: i will repeat songs if the requests are for different characters!)

He wouldn’t look at you.

He was the one who started this terrible mess, who had initiated that first kiss, and now he won’t even look at you. Steve Harrington was doing the one thing he had promised to never do – he was walking away from you.

All the years are spiraling down the drain, years spent by his side even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he was an asshole, even when he wore the crown of king Steve so proudly. Even when he didn’t deserve your allegiance, he had had it. And now, he won’t look you in the eyes. He’d rather stare down the barrel of death than face you right now, and that very fact was unraveling you at your core.

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.”

His words are salt in the wound and haven’t stopped echoing in your spiraling mind since he’d said them.

What, exactly, was the mistake? What part of this did he not only take responsibility for, but regret?

Was it the lingering glances of the past? Was it all the nights you’d listened to him rant and whine after his breakup with Nancy? Or was it all the times he’d convinced you that he had put you first, not only in your daily lives but in all of this? Did he regret the day he’d thrown himself between you and that Demodog, bat swinging wildly as he didn’t show a sign of fear? Or when he’d left you with radio silence as he’d been tortured underground by Russians and you faced the monsters above, never knowing if he was alive or dead?

Or was it the kiss? The kiss he’d impulsively thrown himself into, hardly giving either of you a chance to think last night before he’d pressed his lips to yours as you tended to his wounds left behind by the Demobats. One moment, you were taking alcohol-soaked cotton swabs gingerly to his throat that was sure to scar once all was said and done, and the next, his tongue had been in your mouth while his hands gripped your hips and pulled you impossibly close.

“Staring him down isn’t going to fix whatever… weirdness is happening between you two,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, making you look up to where he sits in the grass, red in the face and holding a makeshift shield.

Dustin is still out of breath from their roughhousing and focusing on hammering nails into his trash can lid.

“Weirdness?” you retort, crinkling your nose, “Nothing weird is happening between me and Steve.”

Eddie shrugs, clearly not buying your defensive tone, “Whatever you say. But I’m not blind, sweetheart. If looks could kill, we’d be arranging a funeral for our resident babysitter.”

“A mistake? Steve, no, please-”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You knew fear. You’d faced the end of the world plenty of times now, you currently were again, but you’d never known trepidation like this.

“No one’s dying,” you respond blandly, looking back to the cup of nails as you pass another one to Eddie, “We’re not heroes, Eddie. No one’s dying this time, and there won’t be any more funerals.”

“I think it’d be a mercy kill if Vecna got his hands on Harrington first,” Eddie takes the nail, pausing his thought as his tongue peeks out between his lips and he levels the nail before bringing down his mallet smoothly, “I think when it’s all said and done, I’ll get red roses to lay at the grave he’s dug himself.”

It only gets a ghost of a laugh to escape you, a silent breath that leaves you sharply as you shake your head.

“Do you not want this?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

He didn’t know what he wanted. He’d made that clear over the last few days. All the tides of his attention had turned towards Nancy, and he’d left you on the sidelines, sick to your stomach and so uncertain of the future between you two.

You knew what you wanted. It was the same thing you’d always wanted, ever since he’d first laid his eyes on you, effectively cursing you to spend the rest of your days haunted by soft brown eyes and congregations of freckles that dotted warm, tan skin.

“Don’t be cheap with it,” you croak, eyes looking back in his direction. You don’t even hear Eddie’s amused snort. You’re stunned, taken back by the fact that he’s already looking at you, “Make sure to get him a proper dozen.”

As hazel eyes lock with yours, you ponder if he’d always been walking this very delicate line at your side. If maybe, you’d not been quite as alone in your unrequited as you’d always assumed.

And you wonder if even the world of the end can delay the impending break to come.

—

The plan is set, the supplies have been gathered, the teams have been formed – you all know what you have to do. It’s now or never, and there’s no time to second-guess any of it now.

You’re all back in the Upside Down again, hopefully for the last time, when Steve hesitates in front of the steps of the trailer on this side of the flipped world.

You almost convince yourself as he’s turning to face you, Eddie, and Dustin that he might bring it all up again. That he might leave you with something that soothes the ache he’d planted inside of you. He’d dug his claws into you long before that kiss, long before he’d lodged all those words of uncertainty down your throat about how he doesn’t know what he wants. You all but beg for him to just leave you with something to hold onto before you both face these nightmares one last time.

He doesn’t. Instead, he makes one last speech, sternly instructing you three, “Don’t try to be cute, or be a hero, or something.”

At some point, Dustin and Eddie interrupt him, joking about the way you three were just decoys, not heroes. But you’re not listening – you’re sharply focused on the way Steve’s eyes are avoiding yours again.

Please look at me. Please say something to me. Please don’t walk away from me, because something about this time feels like the last time.

You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop feeling the way he’d latched onto you in that small bathroom, the way his fingers curled against your hips and the way he’d left your lips swollen and bruised before he delivered his final blows. You know him, better than the back of your hand, and you know that he hadn’t said half the words he’d wanted to in the aftermath. You know what brand cologne he wears and how his mother was the one to first buy it for him and he never bothered to venture from it, you know that he has glasses that he needs desperately after all the head trauma he’s endured these last few years and you know that he’s too embarrassed to wear them in front of anyone except you, you know the way he still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming at past memories twisted into night terrors. You know him. You swear you know him.

He still feels like a stranger as he turns without sparing you a glance. Eddie starts to take a step forward, opening his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out into the mist of blue tint and foreign particles.

When he looks at you, all the air leaves your lungs.

You thought you knew him. His favorite music played over late night drives with just the two of you, the way you teased him for his hair routine but secretly loved the smell of his coconut shampoo. You had every mole on his neck memorized and knew the curvature of his lips long before you’d felt them. Every inside joke, every quiet exchange of comfort, every moment of pining swallowed down, is choking you now.

You’ve already lost him. He was always destined to be a ghost in your closet, a cold chill to only visit you in his loneliest of moments. You’ve already lost him, and you never even had him.

“Please be careful,” you manage to whisper. Your face must be a mirror image to his the night before, he must see all the words you hold back and bury in your chest.

You are two sides of the same coin. Neither of you will ever learn to unlock your jaws long enough to stop biting your tongues. And it doesn’t even matter now; it’s too late to change anything.

All his features soften as he offers a nod and nothing more. For a second, you see the boy you once believed you knew. The same eyes, mouth, and nose that had laid staring at you from the pillow beside yours, fighting sleep and fearing the dark. Only brave enough to face it when he laid at your side, hand in innocent hand, never seeing the way he was stringing you along the entire time. Only knowing he needed that comfort and he needed that warmth you would offer to him time and time again, even as it left you hollow.

You’d already lost him once. As it happens for a second time, something in your gut churns and whispers it will be for the last time.

He turns around wordlessly, and follows after Robin and Nancy. You feel that thread that has bound you to him all these years pull mercilessly taut and wait for the break as Steve Harrington does the one thing he swore he’d never do to you – he walks away from you.

"it's getting dark and it's all so quiet, and i can't trust anything now. and it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake."

#speak now (ghost's version)#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #why do me and steve always end up SAD

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otdiaftg · 4 months

Text

The King's Men - Chapter Six

Day: Saturday, January 13th Time: 11:15 AM EST

Finally Neil risked a look at Allison. He opened his mouth, needing and wanting to say what he should have said months ago, but all this time later he still didn't have the right words. "Thank you," Allison said stiffly. It was so undeserved Neil was stung into saying, "I'm sorry." It was woefully inadequate for what he'd cost her, what he'd cost all of them by deciding to stay, but it was all he had. The look Allison sent him said she knew what he was trying to apologize for. She pursed her lips, like she wasn't sure what response she wanted to waste on him. Before she could make up her mind Dan spoke.

Art used with permission by Lunapiq. Thank you @lunapiq!

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the-mic-drop · 3 months

Text

Zelink gets Isekaied into BG3 Pt7: Camp Emotional Turmoil

Zelda- High Elf Draconic Lineage Sorcerer

Link- Half Wood Elf Champion Fighter

So far: Team Link defeated Auntie Ethel and saved Mayrina. Link got all melancholic.

Team Link returns to camp not long after Team Zelda gets back. Link jog-walks up to Zelda and gives her a possessive kiss right off the bat. Karlach audibly coos and everyone (except Lae'zel) smirks at the display.

Zelda is flustered, since Link was reluctant to show affection before, and asks him what's happened. He says he'll explain when they debrief.

Once the party changes into camp clothes and eats dinner, Zelda gives her team's debrief. They cleared out the area's Gnolls and played firefighter at Waukeen's rest.

Once Duke Ravengard comes up, Wyll reveals that's his father. Questions ensue. Moonrise Towers becomes an objective.

Moving on, Zelda tells them about the Githyanki encounter. Most relevantly, the Gith are hunting Shadowheart's artefact. Zelda gently (compared to how Lae'zel would have) coaxes an explanation out of Shadowheart.

Shadowheart tells them all she's able. She's on a mission for Lady Shar and has an amount of amnesia because of it.

Zelda diffuses some tension between Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

Link tells the party about Auntie Ethel and her true nature; a Hag. He explains that they defeated her and saved a woman named Mayrina. He tells Mayrina's story and tells them about the wand.

Lae'zel and Astarion are a little upset that no progress was made with the Goblins, but not so upset that anyone makes a scene.

Before they wrap up, Link mentions Gandrel and how he is hunting Astarion and a possible connection to a village attack and child abduction. The party is understandably perturbed, but Astarion is quick to tell them about Cazador and how he'd rarely done anything that he hadn't been ordered to. That conversation goes as normal.

While the group discusses their moves for the next day, Mizora appears out of the campfire and turns Wyll into a devil. Everyone is appropriately broken up about it. Link doesn't quite get it, since it just looks like he had horns now, but he reads the room.

Before they go to sleep that night, Zelda asks Link if he's ok and if Mayrina is the reason why he acted differently. Link explains that Mayrina being willing to travel with her undead husband on the hope that he can be restored made him think of how far he'd gone to bring her back. Twice. And he couldn't help but think how he might act in Mayrina's place. That rabbit hole didn't lead anywhere good.

Zelda says something comforting, but the question lingers in their minds. They decide to sleep in the same bedroll that night. (No hanky panky. Sorry, voyeurs!)

That night, the party is visited by the Dream Visitor for the first time.

Zelda's visitor looks a lot like a Gerudo, a few features reminiscent of Urbosa. That sets off all kinds of warning bells. She plays along, getting whatever information she can while waiting for the Visitor to make a mistake. When the Visitor claims to be an adventurer from Baldur's Gate, Zelda jumps.

"How did a Gerudo make it to Baldur's Gate?"

When the Visitor can't answer, Zelda demands their true identity. If the urging to use the tadpole's powers wasn't suspicious enough, this all but confirms her suspicions. Or confirms the validity of being suspicious.

The Visitor simply asks for trust before the dream ends.

The next morning, Zelda gathers everyone together to tell them about the dream. Link reports a similar dream with a visitor that resembled King Rhoam, but Hylians and Elves are similar enough that he didn't make the same connection Zelda did.

Everyone else reports a similar dream in turn and, with the revelation that the visitor(s) is likely an illusory form, even those who are usually willing to absorb more tadpoles, like Astarion, are adamantly against it. With the group's resolve hardened, they gear up and prepare to face the Goblin Camp.

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digenerate-trash · 6 months

Note

Yandere Sirris and Yandere Sydney duke it out over control of the PC. Alternatively, Yandere Sirris and Yandere Sydney realizing two heads are better than one and actively working together to make PC their compliant pet. They're a family after all. It's easier to share.

I think the rough thing about my yandare thing is I usually visualize it at one yandere at a time- but sirris and sydney being obsessed with you???? Like they both have that strange obsessive love that kinda panics you?? They're very similar after all

But I don't think sirris would fight his son- after all sydney is his whole world. (That doesn't stop him from encouraging sydney to marry you as quickly as possible though and making sure you get integrated into the family as quickly as possible.)

Sirris knows you'd be a better match for sydney so he makes a big show of backing off and telling his son that he can have you. But that doesn't mean he's "hands off" it's subtle things. Longing glances. Kisses on the mouth that are a bit to intimate. Overly long hugs. If he's really torn up he'll still drug you both on a visit and take you to his room to make some films to tide him over. But that doesn't count as you cheating on sydney- so your marriage is secure!!

But on the off chance they decide to share. They're both terribly territorial still. Sydney is all about making sure you feel safe with him. That you love him that things are good between you. Where as sirris wants that idea of lost love back. He'll make you listen to music that syds other parent liked. He'll give you gifts of his old love. He'll keep you occupied for hours with stories and hobbies that he used to Shar with syds other parent. Man is obsessed with brining the magic of his first love back and you're the closest he's gotten.

Sex is brutal and rough with sirris and he prefers it when your slightly out of it. Your faces are so cute when you're half out of it.

Where as syd likes you fully aware so he can fully indulge in his corruption kink. Syd likes being on the same level as you and making sure you're always enjoying yourself. (Aftercare king)

It would eventually get to much for the pair. Leading to fights/shouting matches/other terrible situations. But it's really up to you who wins. They would both be trying to convince you to ditch the other before something worse happens. And whoever you chose will always have to constantly keep the other away from you because neither of them are giving up.

They're both freaks. Just different kinds!!

#sirris the science teacher #sydney the fallen #sydney the faithful #tw drugging #ask #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

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skizzim · 30 days

Note

so gith prince lae’zel and liege shadowheart?? can you tell us more?? 👀

oh i do not know how i missed this ask but man, i have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about this so below r my funky lil cliffnotes:

- lae’zel, tho next in the royal line to ascend, would likely treat her royalty like a burden and want Nothing more than to be in the front lines with the army, caving in skulls with a massive sword and exploring the realms! Not sitting in the royal office or whatever reading boring slates and listening to a bunch of rich bureaucrats babble on about things they don’t understand!!! she’d be very wet-cat about her lot in life, and may have seriously considered absconding the throne if it wasn’t her respect for orpheus (who maybe in this world is either her brother or her king/father? - shh i haven’t gotten this far in the delusion yet)

- as for shadowheart, i have this funny idea that she’s a fugitive from her sharran cloister who defected in the middle of a mission in the astral plane and got caught by the githyanki army. in this AU brainworm she is 1000% an oathbroken paladin of shar! imagine the comedy of abandoning an abusive manipulative god only to find urself in a murderous gith war camp lol

- my guess for how she becomes part of lae’zel’s personal guard is that as she’s being held as a pow/interrogated by the gith, lae’zel hears of how she manages to almost break out via knocking out like HALF THE GUARDS in the joint resulting in one painfully hard lady boner and an insatiable curiosity about this pale af istik who is freakishly strong

- voss suggests recruiting her instead of culling her and voila!!!! dysfunctional bratty leige/crabby paladin bodyguard dynamic is BORN

ok but fr if anyone wants to take this idea off my hands and actually write it, i would love you and draw art for it 🫡 anyway here’s the doodle that prompted the question! thx for being curious anon : )

**edited to add this beautiful lil short story by @bardigrade !

#lae’zel #shadowheart #shadowzel #asks #bg3 theory #bg3

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mamamittens · 1 month

Text

A Lone Melody (Pt. 10)

Main

This chapter was sponsored by @yanderefangirl as part of the "Oh Shit Sale", thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Warnings: Implied but not seen violence against a child. Health/dental issues. Racism.

Word Count: 2,109

Melody had been crying a lot lately.

To be fair to the young girl, she had a lot of reasons to cry.

Her dah, silly, aggressive fishman that endlessly teased her only to toss her high above his head with a toothy grin, had left.

Uncle Fishy, the sad man who held her so tenderly despite the hurt in his eyes, had died.

Her face hurt from the way her teeth had broken on her pah’s necklace one night. The jagged shards cutting her skin more than her small fangs ever could before. Venom seeping into the wounds providing no relief but heat. The thick liquid thinning out in her mouth as it wept endlessly from her teeth. She kept swallowing it so she wouldn’t just be drooling onto the table but it made her feel worse. Too full to eat or drink anything considerable even if it smelled really good.

Melody felt bad too. On the inside. Where her heart softly stuttered when she sobbed, not just her stomach that wanted something filling besides her own tainted spit.

She knew everyone was worried about her. Pah. Auntie Shar. All the nice ladies at the café. Even the two weird pirates that sat across from her.

But Melody just couldn’t stop crying.

The least she could do, was try and cry quietly. Maybe if she did, it would stop hurting.

Maybe her teeth would get better.

Maybe she wouldn’t swallow so much of her own venom anymore.

Maybe dah would come back…

And then she could eat with Tha-ch and Mar-co with a smile so even they wouldn’t look so worried for her.

Everyone would be happier if she stopped crying…

But Melody just couldn’t stop.

She gave them a hug after wiping off her face—something that they seemed to appreciate given how wet her napkin was.

They smelled… different. Familiar. Like sea salt and sun. The burn of booze and aftershave. Different but familiar. Their skin soft despite the rugged nature of piracy as she rubbed her face on their throat, teeth painfully clenched shut despite the instinctive desire to bite. To see what it felt like to cut into something warm.

Dah taught her better, even if he didn’t like humans compared to fishmen. Though he did emphasize exceptions to the rule.

But Tha-ch and Mar-co weren’t exceptions.

They were friends.

Friends that pah seemed wary of when she told him. Auntie Shar whispering something in his ear too low for Melody to hear. He seemed to relax, swiping his gentle thumb under her eyes.

“I think I may have found a dentist for you, pup. We’ll go to the office tomorrow and see if he’s willing to try and help.” Pah rumbled softly, smiling as she buried her nose into his chest, rubbing her face against his skin.

The promise of relief brought with it a swift collapse into sleep.

Melody will remember this day, though hazy with pain and emotions.

The kindness of her family as they sought to comfort her until a solution could be found.

And the two strange humans that eagerly distracted her and shared a meal despite her state.

The next day, however, Melody would remember far more.

--*--

Hody Jones slinked through an alleyway, nose wrinkled at the foul stench of refuse and humans. Those damn pirates had managed to worm their way into the good graces of his king and saw fit to stick around. Polluting the very air he breathed like they had a right. It sickened him, honestly.

The way they all happily traipsed down the streets, gawking at the land and people.

Obviously, Fishman Island was a beautiful place outside of the slums. The mermaids an obvious attraction to outsiders. But that didn’t mean Hody wanted to see them drool over his people. Even the frail mermaids deserved more respect than that. Though, they at least kept their hands to themselves, unlike many other groups of humans that managed to get in.

That was about the only thing they had going for them though.

Hody wished, not for the first time, that he had the strength to beat them all away. Show them how little they were worth compared to him. But this wasn’t just any group of pirates. These were the Whitebeard Pirates. They swarmed like cockroaches under the banner of Edward Newgate. And as pissed as Hody was, even he knew his limits.

But the sound of soft sniffles over scraping refuse under his feet challenged that notion swiftly.

Enraged, Hody quickly rounded the corner and found the mutt sitting on a bench outside a dentist’s office. It was almost dizzying how rapidly his emotions swirled with the realization.

The tiny half-breed was curled in on itself. Trying to appear smaller, perhaps. Why they were there… well, Hody could guess, but not why they were alone. He’d never seem it alone before. Always being carried and doted on. Spoiled. Hody felt his lips curl into a sneer.

Well… if he can’t do anything about the worthless humans, the least he could do was solve everyone’s problem with the mutt’s teeth.

Sneer twisting into a more approachable look, Hody stepped forward and called out.

“Hey there.” It turned to look at him, bright red eyes locking with his.

…she looked so young.

His hand itched to get it over with already.

--*--

Edward huffed, a smile hidden under his moustache as his sons argued behind him. Thatch whining about his innocence as Marco mercilessly teased him for flirting with a married mermaid.

“I was just speaking facts! She is beautiful! I didn’t know it was a crime to state the obvious!” Thatch complained, to which Marco scoffed.

“Maybe not, but leaning into her space and putting your hand on her tail was probably what offended her husband more than anything else.”

“I didn’t see her tail! I SWEAR!” Thatch screeched, “I meant to rest my hand on the table—how was I supposed to know she was resting her fin there?!”

“By looking?” Marco responded dryly.

Thankfully, Edward was there to scold his son enough to get the incident blown off with no issue, though the mermaid in question seemed deeply amused.

As a favor to his silly boy, Edward was taking the long way to the ship. Allowing the two to tease each other without dragging the rest of the ship into it. The slums weren’t exactly welcoming, but between his size and reputation—as well as the show his sons were putting on without realizing—no one argued about their presence. His boots clicked against the dirty street with a familiar cadence. Slow, steady gait eating the distance just enough to let his sons keep up in their distraction.

The sound of the slums background noise in his ears. An unfortunately familiar one even after all this time.

Hushed arguments. Small, contained violence as street kids shoved each other, daring one to try and pickpocket ‘fresh meat’. Store keeps selling wares at ridiculous prices to whoever was dumb enough to wander so far from the marketplace. It all blended in behind his son’s argument.

Until a sharp sound cut through it all just as they rounded a corner.

A heavy, meaty slap.

And then a high, young wail.

Edward’s eyes snapped to the scene, his sons falling silent instantly.

A tall fishman towered over a toddler. Hand raised over his opposite shoulder. The baby collapsed on the sidewalk, small hand to their face. His eyes narrowed as his strides quickly ate the distance. Curly black hair like his son, Teach, contained under a small white cap. But the resemblance did little to soothe the instant anger Edward felt. His hand curling in the back of the man’s shirt and tossing him into the wall.

“Oh, shit, that’s Melody!” Thatch gasped, scrambling past Edward and falling to his knees to fret over the child. Edward felt pride in how quickly his son acted as he pinned down the offender with his boot. The fishman glaring at him with a sneer as the child cried great, heaving sobs. “H-Hey, baby, it’s alright. The mean, mean man can’t hurt you. Pops got him—lemme see the—oh he got you good, huh?” Thatch cooed in his softest voice.

Marco quickly joined Thatch as the two helped the child up and inspected the damage. Edward was a little surprised Marco hadn’t already tried healing the obvious bruise but trusted his son had good reason.

The door to what appeared to be a doctor’s office slammed open. A man Edward recognized as Jinbe looking around wildly with a fury he felt sharp kinship with.

Clearly, this was ‘Melody’s’ father.

Jinbe seemed to pause at the curious sight before him, glancing between his crying child, Edward’s fussing sons, and himself. Boot digging into the fishman snarling up at him.

“What is going on here?” Jinbe growled with an impressive depth. The fishman under his boot seeming to pale despite his already white skin, expression faltering.

“W-Was just trying to help the mutt!” He defended with a gasp as Edward pressed his boot down a little harder in fury. “C-Clearly someone needed to knock those teeth loose!”

Jinbe sucked in a sharp breath and spun on his heel, gently pushing aside Edward’s sons to scoop up his child, taking in the damage.

Even before the child was in Jinbe’s arms, they were small. Pale gray skin with dark fingers. White hair tipped black and red with the biggest, watery ruby eyes Edward had ever seen. A large mark on her cheek cradled by small hands rapidly growing a dark purple. Blood and some sort of bright blue liquid seeping from her lips as she whimpered. Edward’s heart went out to the poor child.

“Melody, pup, let me see.” Jinbe held his daughter close and gently opened her mouth, eyes narrowed at the jagged, bloody mess of her teeth. The man inhaled sharply with a hiss. “I do not care what your excuse is—you. Struck. My. Daughter?”

Marco, ever brave, stood up and cleared his throat. Jinbe’s eyes were sharp as he looked at Edward’s son. Not faltering in the slightest, Marco gave a thin smile.

“I’m a doctor with the phoenix fruit. If you want, I can see what I can do while you handle… that.” Marco offered, Thatch instantly standing at his side.

“I’ll hold her hand if it helps! Marco’s the best doctor.” Thatch grimaced. “We heard you were… having trouble finding someone to treat her already.”

Jinbe seemed to struggle, body tense as he looked at his crying child and the three humans. Edward felt regret settle in his chest at the obvious distrust.

Still, he understood. Even under better circumstances, Jinbe had little reason to trust human pirates.

“P-Pah-pah?” A soft, hoarse voice whimpered. “H-Hurts, pah…” she spoke with difficulty through tears and her swelling mouth. Broken teeth likely not helping matters any.

Jinbe melted, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s hair.

“Doctor…Marco?” Jinbe partially cooed at his child, glancing at Marco in question. “—He wants to help. Can you be brave for me, pup?”

Melody sniffled but nodded, burying her face into Jinbe’s yukata before turning and reaching out to Marco.

A little surprise, Marco reached out hesitantly, looking to Jinbe for permission.

It was given reverently. Exactly how Edward would if he had to hand one of his children to someone else to take care of them as he could not. Heartbreaking reluctance and resolve to have the best hands sooth his child’s need. And Marco nodded, lifting the toddler to his chest before looking to the office.

“Think they’ll let me use their space?” Marco mused mostly to himself and Thatch.

Jinbe snarled.

“They better.” Jinbe glared pointedly at the window where a fishman in a doctor’s coat flinched away. The door opening seconds later.

“O-Of course! C-Come in—oh, you poor thing I-I—come in, please.” The fishman doctor wilting at the sight of the bruised child still clutching the side of her face.

Marco and Thatch went in.

“…thank you, Captain Whitebeard.” Jinbe huffed, tears in his eyes as he reluctantly looked away from the now closed office door.

“Just Whitebeard will do… father to father.” Edward acquiesced, lifting his boot as Jinbe stalked forward towards the now thoroughly frightened fishman.

Jinbe took in a sharp, steadying breath and bared his teeth at the man who struck his child.

Edward gladly took a step back and smiled.

He couldn’t wait to call this fine young man his son… and gain a granddaughter in the same breath.

#one piece #one piece yandere #a lone melody #platonic yandere #one piece oc

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clouseplayssims · 2 months

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Breeds For All Needs Update

If the GoS theme this month wasn't a sign that I needed to get back to my Breeds For All Needs project I don't know what is!

Now for those of you who DON'T know what this is - essentially I wanted to remake all of the breeds from TS1-TS4. I also linked existing pet breeds by other creators when I found ones I liked. And then I got distracted and forgot about it.

As a refresher, here's a complete list with links to those I have already completed - please note some of these breeds I -have- done but part of the project is including links to other creators so I haven't made the official post yet:

Large Dogs

Afghan Hound (TS1; TS3; TS4) Airedale Terrier (TS2; TS3; TS4) Akita (TS2; TS3; TS4) Alaskan Malamute (TS3; TS4) American Eskimo Dog (includes small version) (TS3; TS4) American Foxhound (TS2; TS3) American Staffordshire Terrier (TS2 - as AmStaff; TS3) Anatolian Shepherd Dog Australian Cattle Dog (TS2; TS3; TS4) Australian Shepherd (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Bernese Mountain Dog (TS3; TS4) Black & Tan Coonhound (TS2 - as Black & Tan; TS3; TS4) Black Mouth Cur (TS4) Black Russian Terrier (TS4) Bloodhound (TS3; TS4) Bluetick Coonhound (TS3; TS4) Border Collie (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Borzoi (TS2; TS3; TS4) Boxer (TS2; TS3; TS4) Brittany (TS2; TS3; TS4) Bull Terrier (TS2; TS4) Bull Mastiff (TS2 - as Bullmastiff; TS3; TS4 - as Bullmastiff) Canaan Dog (TS2; TS3 - as Canaan; TS4 - as Canaan) Chesapeake Bay Retriever (TS2 - as Chessie; TS3; TS4) Chow Chow (TS2 - as Chowchow; TS3; TS4) Chow-Lab Mix (TS2; TS3; TS4) Collie (TS2 - rough collie version; TS3 - rough collie version; TS4 - rough collie version) Curly Coated Retriever (TS2; TS3; TS4) Dalmatian (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Doberman Pinscher (TS2; TS3; TS4) English Foxhound (TS2; TS3; TS4) English Setter (TS3; TS4) Foxhound (TS4) German Shepherd (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) German Shorthaired Pointer (TS2; TS3; TS4 - as German Pointer) German Spitz (TS4) Giant Schnauzer (TS2; TS3; TS4) Golden Retriever (TS2; TS3; TS4) Golden Doodle (TS2 - as Goldendoodle; TS3; TS4 - as Goldendoodle) Great Dane (TS2; TS3; TS4) Great Pyrenees (TS3; TS4) Greyhound (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Ibizan Hound (TS3; TS4) Icelandic Sheepdog (TS4) Irish Red and White Setter (TS3; TS4) Irish Setter (TS1 - as Setter; TS3; TS4) Irish Terrier (TS3; TS4) Irish Wolfhound (TS2; TS3; TS4) Keeshond (TS2; TS3; TS4) Kerry Blue Terrier (TS2; TS3; TS4) Labradinger (TS2; TS3) Labradoodle (TS2; TS3; TS4) Labrador Retriever (TS1; TS2 - as Black Lab, Chocolate Lab, Yellow Lab; TS4) Mastiff (TS2; TS3) Newfoundland (TS2; TS3; TS4) Norsk Elk Shepherd (TS2; TS3; TS4) Norwegian Buhund (TS4) Old English Sheepdog (TS3; TS4) Otterhound (TS3; TS4) Pharaoh Hound (TS3; TS4) Pit Bull Terrier (TS2; TS3; TS4 - as Pit Bull) Pointer (TS2; TS3; TS4) Polish Lowland Sheepdog (TS3; TS4) Poodle (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Portuguese Water Dog (TS4) Redbone Coonhound (TS2; TS3; TS4) Rhodesian Ridgeback (TS3; TS4) Rottweiler (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Saint Bernard (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Saluki (TS2) Samoyed (TS2; TS3; TS4) Shar Pei (TS1 - as Sharpei; TS4) Siberian Husky (TS1 - as Husky; TS2 - as Husky; TS3; TS4) Standard Schnauzer (TS4) Tibetan Mastiff (TS3; TS4) Vizsla (TS3; TS4) Weimaraner (TS2; TS3; TS4) Welsh Springer Spaniel (TS3; TS4) Wheaten Terrier (TS3; TS4) Whippet (TS2; TS3; TS4)

Small Dogs

American Cocker Spaniel (TS2 - as Spaniel; TS3 - as Cocker Spaniel; TS4 - as Cocker Spaniel) American Eskimo Dog Basenji (TS2; TS3; TS4) Beagle (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Bedlington Terrier (TS3; TS4) Bichon Frise (TS3; TS4) Black Russian Terrier (TS2; TS3) Bocker (TS2; TS3; TS4) Boston Terrier (TS2; TS3; TS4) Bull Terrier (TS1; TS3 - twice, once as Pitbull) Cairn Terrier (TS1; TS3 - as Highland Terrier) Cardigan Welsh Corgi (TS3; TS4) Cavalier King Charles Spaniel (TS3; TS4 - as King Charles Spaniel) Chihuahua (Long) (TS2) Chihuahua (Smooth) (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Cockapoo (TS4) Dachshund (TS3; TS4) English Bulldog (TS1 - as Bulldog; TS2; TS3 - as Bull Dog; TS4 - as Bulldog) English Cocker Spaniel (TS3; TS4) English Springer Spaniel (TS1; TS3 - as a large dog; TS4) English Toy Spaniel (TS3; TS4) Field Spaniel (TS3 - as a large dog; TS4) French Bulldog (TS2; TS3; TS4) Havanese (TS3; TS4) Italian Greyhound (TS2; TS3; TS4) Jack Russell Terrier (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Lhasa Apso (TS4) Maltese (TS4) Miniature Bull Terrier (TS2) Miniature Pinscher (TS3; TS4) Miniature Poodle (TS1; TS2; TS3 - as Poodle; TS4) Miniature Schnauzer (TS2; TS3; TS4) Papillon (TS3; TS4) Parson Russell Terrier (TS3 - as large dog; TS4) Pekingese (TS3; TS4) Pembroke Welsh Corgi (TS3; TS4) Pomeranian (TS3; TS4) Pug (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Puggle (TS2; TS3; TS4) Schipperke (TS2; TS3; TS4) Schnoodle (TS2; TS3; TS4) Scottish Terrier (TS1; TS3; TS4) Shetland Sheepdog (TS3; TS4) Shiba Inu (TS2; TS3; TS4) Shih Tzu (TS3; TS4) Silky Terrier (TS3; TS4) Smooth Fox Terrier (TS2; TS3; TS4) Staffordshire Bull Terrier (TS2; TS3 - as large dog; TS4) Toy Fox Terrier (TS3; TS4) Welsh Corgi (TS1) West Highland White Terrier (TS3 - as West Highland Terrier; TS4) Wire Fox Terrier (TS3; TS4) Yorkshire Terrier (TS3; TS4)

Cats

Abyssinian (TS2; TS3; TS4) American Bobtail (TS3; TS4) American Longhair (TS3; TS4) American Shorthair (TS1 - as Brown Tabby, Orange Tabby, Tortoiseshell; TS2 - as Shorthair Tabby, Tuxedo Cat; TS3 - also as Black Cat, Shorthair Tabby, Tuxedo; TS4 - also as Black Cat, Tabby, Tuxedo) American Wirehair (TS4) Balinese (TS2; TS3; TS4) Bengal (TS3; TS4) Birman (TS2; TS3; TS4) Bombay (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) British Shorthair (TS1 - as Silver Tabby British Shorthair; TS2; TS3; TS4) British Longhair (TS3; TS4) Burmese (TS2; TS3; TS4) Calico (TS1 - as Calico, Calico - Black, Calico - Red; TS2; TS3; TS4) Chatreux (TS2; TS3; TS4) Colorpoint Shorthair (TS3; TS4) Cornish Rex (TS3; TS4) Devon Rex (TS3; TS4) Egyptian Mau (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Exotic Shorthair (TS2) German Rex (TS3; TS4) Havana Brown (TS2; TS3; TS4) Himalayan (TS2; TS3; TS4) Japanese Bobtail (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Javanese (TS3; TS4) Korat (TS3; TS4) Kurilian Bobtail (TS3; TS4) La Perm (TS3; TS4) Lykoi (TS4) Maine Coon (TS1 - as Maine Coone; TS2; TS3; TS4) Manx (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Norwegian Forest (TS2; TS3; TS4) Ocicat (TS2; TS3; TS4) Oriental Shorthair (TS2; TS3; TS4) Oriental Longhair (TS4) Persian (TS1 - as Perisan, Bi-Color Persian; TS2; TS3; TS4) Ragdoll (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Russian Blue (TS2; TS3; TS4) Savannah (TS3; TS4) Scottish Fold (TS2; TS3; TS4) Siamese (TS1; TS2; TS3; TS4) Siberian (TS2; TS3; TS4) Singapura (TS2; TS3; TS4) Somali (TS3; TS4) Sphynx (TS1; TS4) Tonkinese (TS2; TS3; TS4) Turkish Angora (TS2 - as Turkish Agora; TS3; TS4) Turkish Van (TS1)

Bonus

Albino (TS1) Cheetah (TS1) Dingo (TS3; TS4) Fox (TS4) Pink Poodle (TS1) Raccoon (TS4) Robot Cat (TS1) Robot Dog (TS1) Star Dalmatian (TS2) Tiger (TS1) Turkish Blue (TS1)

#breeds for all needs

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orinthered · 9 months

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i do think it's a bit weird how unwilling baldur's gate 3 is to play with morals... it's strange because even when divinity original sin 2 was at its most black-and-white, there was still a tangible reason for villains to do the things they wanted to do. the god-king is upset that his people have been kept behind the veil for thousands of years and has come to exact revenge, freeing his people and taking back what was stolen from him. it's not particularly DEEP, but it's enough to make you at least... Think about the motivations of the villains you engage with?

there's HINTS of it with the absolute's chosen (gortash was sold off as a kid, ketheric lost his family, orin grew up under all of that) but none of it has any bearing on the plot nor is it much more than conjecture. and there's still a lot of Evil Just For The Sake Of Evil. the illithids are unequivocally Evil as a collective, because they have to be to serve the plot. minthara Has to be under mind control to be an evil person, because otherwise it doesn't serve the plot. shar can't be anything other than Pure, Distilled Evil, because otherwise it doesn't serve the plot.

obviously these are all symptoms of the game's setting being in faerun, and the fact that baldur's gate 3 itself is a continuation of something that isn't larian's own property to begin with, but you would think that larian would at least be willing to expand and play around with morality more? though i suppose also larian wanted to carve more of their niche into classic black and white Silly Goofy Fun RPGs rather than making a thinkpiece, which also has its own place. auhhh oh well

#sorry i'm just pissed about this bc rn bg3 has a better metacritic score than disco elysium #and like i like bg3 a lot but I Don't Want To Pretend The Game Is Anywhere Near Disco Elysium #.txt #bg3 spoilers #i should maybe start tagging my negative posts because idk believe it or not i do actually really love this game #blink blink blink

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enwonz · 3 months

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kingmaker | p.sh

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CHAPTER IV

As an assassin working for the Hwangs, you have proven your loyalty to your benefactors for more than a decade. But when Lady Hwang's plans for a rebellion land you in a bride selection for the Crown Prince, you find yourself at a loss. Unfamiliar with the ways of the gentry, your reliance on a previously unknown informant is your only source of hope. And yet, you learn very quickly that no one in high society can be trusted, including yourself. Because who else but you is there to assassinate the King?

WARNING: this chapter has very graphic depictions of blood and fighting. please do check the masterlist for potential triggers/themes you feel uncomfortable with!

Dinner has never, never felt this awkward. It certainly proves that good food can’t beat good company. And right now, you’re sorely lacking in the latter department.

All the candidates seated themselves at the table, with a sort of hierarchy already formed — the girls with more influence had gone straight to seats nearer to the royals, while the less influential had been shoved down the end of the table. You are somewhere near the middle, and as you pick apart your meat you can’t help but think that you’d rather be anywhere else. As delicious as it must be, having been prepared by a royal chef, the taste is lost on you, as you’re so focused on your surroundings and that courtier that you haven’t got the capacity to be enjoying a meal.

The cacophony of clinking forks echoes through the dining room, void of conversation of any sort. Other than inviting you all to eat, the royals have not spoken. From your etiquette lessons with Yeji, you’ve learnt that it would be a grave sin to speak before one is spoken to in the presence of someone of a higher rank. To even initiate a conversation with royalty would have you sent straight to the gallows.

Finally, Crown Prince Jay speaks. “As we begin, I’d like to explain some conditions I have set for our selection process.” He glances around, surveying the long table and the faces residing it. “Firstly, your title no longer matters from here on. You will only be addressed as a candidate, which takes precedence over any title you are set to inherit.”

Clear as day, there is a change in demeanour of the highest of the highborns. To be lumped into the same category as the daughter of a mere baron would be a faux pas of the highest order in any other case, yet you suppose it is necessary for a fair competition.

Although you have to admit, fairness is not something you expected of the crown.

As the prince clears his throat, you turn back to the head of the table. “Second of all, sabotage of other candidates is strictly prohibited. If you are to be discovered, you will automatically be disqualified, and your household will be stripped of its title for attempting to damage property of the crown.”

Property. The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, though you aren’t even the person who said it. From the moment you set foot in this palace, you have become mere dolled-up goods, subject to Prince Jay’s evaluation. To be picked apart like you are nothing more than livestock in a dress is a price, however, worth paying for if one’s a mere baron, with little land and power. Ladies of the court as you may be, but the reality is that you are no less than glamorised pawns of the nobility.

Still, you force a serene smile, as you notice most of the girls have started doing, if they are wise. Swallowing down the food, your throat burning like land in a drought, you can only focus on a spot near the prince’s plate.

You have spent your night observing the prince with whatever view your bowed head can give you. He is arrogant, that much is certain, what with his chin tilted upwards as he gazes down on each girl, seated at the table just for him. He is handsome, you concede. Would that you were any less focused, you might be like any other girl in the kingdom, captivated by his honeyed skin and sharpened features, with an equally piercing gaze to match. He is every bit the haughty prince you had pictured him to be.

But ogling is for the free.

The queen finally decides to be hospitable, eyes landing on a young girl at the foot of the table – a pretty thing by the name of Jin Sol. “Lady Bae, you have barely touched your food. Are you well?”

As she stammers out a reply, the atmosphere finally lightens, and conversation begins to pick up amongst the candidates. The men of the family pointedly do not speak with you, but Prince Jay’s glare seem to soften ever so slightly.

And still, the courtier has his eyes on you.

Night falls as the dinner goes on, and after an excruciatingly tense meal, you are finally released from your prison of pie and miniature cakes. An aide leads the girls to a wing of the palace, much deeper in than the dining hall you were in before. As you move towards what you guess is meant to be the candidates’ quarters, you pass a quiet rose garden, complete with a hedge maze. Judging by the bubbling of running water, there must be a fountain of some sort within the maze, if not at the centre. According to the information provided in the letter sent to every household in the running, the prince will likely invite different girls who catch his eye to every picturesque spot in the palace, not excluding this one.

You are on constant alert, committing your surroundings to memory. Tonight is a good opportunity for a stakeout, for you to get a clear idea of the palace’s layout. Not all of the architecture is covered in the blueprints you were provided with.

As it turns out, your private room is absolutely luxurious, with marbled floors and fixtures. Even the tap is gold-plated. A little ostentatious, but reflective of the nature of royalty. A canopy bed sits in the middle of the room, along with brilliant red bed covers. Such extravagance is foreign to you, who has called the communal servants’ quarters home for most of your life. There’s a voice in your head, telling you you don’t belong here.

But Hwang Eunji does. And as long as that aide continues to ramble on about the palace’s six-hundred-and-thirty lavatories, you are Hwang Eunji.

“You will be assigned a lady-in-waiting in the morning. Until then, you may rest for the night. Should you require any assistance, you may call for a servant.” And with that, he finally leaves you alone in your chambers.

As the door shuts behind him, you heave a sigh of utter relief. The wardrobes are filled with gowns and slippers, some from the palace, others supplied by the duchy. As a duchess, Lady Hwang would never allow her “sister” to be caught wearing clothes of subpar quality, hence you were shipped off with the collection.

But right now, the article of clothing you need sits hidden in a tiny wooden trunk. As planned, you find it safely tucked away at the very back of the wardrobe. It opens with a click, and you quickly change into a dark tunic and pants, with a heavy hooded cloak. You swap your gleaming heels for a lightweight pair of boots. Sticking your hand into your pocket, your fingers connect with the original blueprints provided by your informant. There’s been no news from the informant since you left the duchy, and your only option is to hope they’re waiting for you tonight, somewhere in the palace.

You are pleased to find a balcony with a rather low vantage point. With a view of some paths within the palace, it’s a decent place to start. You attach a rope to the balcony’s barrier, swinging your legs over as you begin to lower yourself along the walls. Palace guards are stationed at each entrance, and you have to take caution to avoid them sensing your presence.

It seems this wing of the palace is a little less imperious than the exterior. Based on the lush ivy creeping up the walls, it certainly feels less…cold. It serves as a good grip too, lest you lose your balance and go hurtling to your death.

Finally, you reach the bottom, your feet connecting with the ground in a soundless motion. Taking soft footsteps, you make your way into the shadows of a grand arch. The bits and pieces of a conversation drift through the cool night air, something about “underbaked pie”. You must be near the candidates’ kitchens, then.

If your memory serves you correctly, that fountain you heard earlier is nearby. It would be the best meetup point, considering the frothy gurgling would drown out any conversation you were having. And if this informant’s as clever as you think they are, they’ll be there waiting for you.

In a flash, you’re sprinting towards the sweet scent of roses, careful to keep your footsteps silent. Despite the guards milling about, they’re no match for your stealth. You manage to slip into the hedge maze within minutes. The problem now is to navigate your way through.

It turns out that you find little difficulty in finding the centre, simply following the rushing water’s call. It takes little to no time for you to get through the neatly-trimmed hedges, each dotted with blood red roses that remain striking despite the dark of night. But it isn’t the flowers that steal your breath away; rather it’s a familiar head of silvery hair.

Before the fountain stands a man, his tall and lean figure casting a shadow at your feet. Each strand of his hair shines as though it were woven by the moonlight, catching whatever faint light that bleeds through the leaves of the maze. With his back facing you, you cannot tell whether he has sensed your presence. Although something tells you he has, and he’s been expecting your arrival, just as you’d predicted.

Unless he’s here to catch you red-handed, all evidence points to the crown prince’s courtier being the duchess’ informant.

You sift through your memory for his name, but you cannot recall Lord Hwang’s warnings of this man. He might be revered throughout the palace, but in no way could your masters and mistress have ever expected someone at the crown prince’s very side to be your source of information. And you, for the life of you, cannot remember his name, through no fault of your own.

Still, you quickly regain your composure. “We’ve met.”

The courtier finally lifts his head, and you see a rich cobalt mask, studded with pearls, obscuring the top half of his face, not that it matters anymore. “Oh? That is indeed strange. I do not recall ever meeting you, stranger.” His voice is low, but you can hear the hint of amusement regardless. “If I asked for your name, would you give it to me?”

“A name means too much in our line of work. You should know this, or are you simply the crown prince’s lapdog?” Tit-for-tat. With your voice muffled by the fabric across your face, he will find it hard to determine your gender at all. There is power in knowing everything about the other party, while they know nothing about you at all.

Prince Jay’s courtier simply chuckles, his hands fidgeting with what you think is the stalk of a rose, its head lopped off and floating in the fountain like a decapitated swan. Did he do that himself? “As expected of the Hwangs’ finest. Though I must admit, I am indeed surprised to find that they’ve sent their right-hand man. Are your masters so desperate?”

You clench your fists. “What have you to say?”

“My name, for one.” The courtier sighs, mock-wistfully as he eyes you. “Park Sunghoon, although I’m sure you already knew it. And you…” He pauses, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “I have heard of you. The Hwangs’ blade, a bloodthirsty pawn in a grand game of rebellion. Tell me, why are you here?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“If we are to form an alliance, it is necessary, no?” It’s a hard guess, but even if he’s not on your side, it will be no effort to prevent him from revealing your presence.

There’s a moment of silence as Park Sunghoon ponders on your words. “True. But I know you do not trust me, and it goes both ways. It seems we will have to earn each other’s favour, after all.”

Your hand moves towards the hilt of your blade. “Then so be it. First test: prove your skill to me.” You barely give him time to react before you’re taking a swing at him with your sword, but he dodges out of the way with finesse to rival yours. Interesting.

He runs, first up a pipe, then hoisting himself onto the layered roof tiles. With a smirk, he beckons towards you.

Under a cloudy sky, he takes you on, parrying your every attack. He’s strong, and quick on his feet. He’s got experience, to boot, enough to go head-to-head with you and not get knocked down easily. As his blade catches the moonlight, the silvery glint gives him a deadly aura. The chill that runs through you does little to shake you on the outside, but in your mind you know one thing: Park Sunghoon is not as simple as you think he is.

There is little to no sound as your blades slice through the air, a little like a dance. You do not intend to hurt him, and he knows this. Yet your reputation must precede you, seeing as he hasn’t shown any sign of weakness up to this point. Simply put, he fears you, maybe even much more than he’s letting on.

It takes a surprising amount of effort to parry his blade. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you feel your muscles burn with every onslaught of blows he launches at you. The metallic clang of your swords colliding rings in your ears, and you’re thankful he picked a spot far away from the guards, or you would be impaled by hundreds of arrows by now.

It’s about time you end it, you think to yourself, as you finally force him backwards in a series of vicious strikes. By now, he’s starting to run out of steam, clearly not used to drawn-out fights. And as his foot reaches the edge of the roof, you shove him onto his back. You bring your weapon down, stopping abruptly right at his throat. But simultaneously, the iron’s cold kiss through the fabric of your clothes on your chest registers. His blade is ready to plunge into your heart, yours ready to slice his neck off. He’s drawn with you.

No one has ever drawn with you, not since you bested Lord Hyunjin years ago.

With a sigh, you give him your hand, pulling him off the edge. “It seems you’re more capable than I imagined.”

”Our line of work, as you said.” He takes your hand with a grin, dusting himself off as he sheathes his sword. “I hardly expected to come out of a battle with you alive, you know. You are a formidable foe.”

“That I am, Park Sunghoon. Luckily for you, I have yet to make full use of you.”

“How comforting.”

You scoff, but you take out a small blade, creating a small gash on the palm of your hand. You hold out your bleeding hand again. “From this moment forth, we are allies, you and I. Do not harm me, and I will see that no harm comes to you. Our common cause shall bring us together despite our differences. Do you swear it?”

Sunghoon doesn’t know this, but you need this blood oath to happen. You cannot allow any room for betrayal of any sort. Much as you know it is unwise, you have no other ally in this palace of lies and trickery, and you need him to guide you through it all.

Yet he takes the knife from your other hand, slicing a much larger wound into his own palm. With full confidence, he grasps your right hand, the fresh blood mixing as his grip tightens. “I swear it. I will trust you, right hand of your masters. May our alliance be a fruitful one, and may our joined hands never part in times of need.” The moon peeks out of the clouds, bearing witness to your newly-formed alliance.

You release his hand, tossing him a bundle of bandages as you wrangle with your own. There’s blood flowing down your forearms, and you hasten to staunch the bleeding. “We shall correspond in your private quarters next. Out here would be far too dangerous. Keep an eye out for my arrival.” You watch as he nods, turning to leave, but he hesitates. “One moment.”

”What is it?”

”I never caught your name.”

”In due time, Park Sunghoon.”

And as he disappears down the side of the walls, you sigh. There is much to be done, and little you know. But the thought of a single ally you’ve made…

Well, you suppose there’s some hope after all.

a/n: well!! supremely late, i am soooo so sorry TT life is so sfkhbks. can you tell i’m a severely addicted webcomic reader who only knows how to imagine fight scenes HAHA…anyway i’m really hoping you’ll like this one <3 see you guys in two weeks! (might do a double update if i’m free, we shall see)

taglist (open!)

@stariikis @viagumi @chenfleur @ilovejeongin007

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morimakesfanart · 3 months

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Sindria's Prophet #37

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW-Long term affects of medical denial & child abuse, living with PTSD *Kink & toys mentioned

((I keep forgetting to tell you guys: Lyly is pronounced "lee-lee." It's short for their middle name, Llyn/Lynn (<-genderfluid affected spelling)))

~POV Mori~ I woke up gasping. I sat up and wrapped my arms around myself so I could tell the difference between actual physical touch and the phantoms left over from my night terror. My body wouldn't stop shaking; I needed Lyly's help. When I got out of bed I froze. Not only did my bed not have curtains, this wasn't my room. No. This was my room. Sinbad picked it out for me in the guest tower. I was in Sindria; in a whole different dimension. All of the adrenaline supporting me left and I sank to the floor. I was still trembling but I wasn't scared anymore. The people who hurt me couldn't reach me here. I had that dream because after spending the past month hyperfixated on the present, I had been triggered into remembering one of the worst parts of my past, so now I was remembering the rest too. 'Sorry, Lyly.' The safety I had gained in this world was invaluable. I couldn't imagine going home willing. Based on how little light was getting through the curtains it was still the middle of the night. I was drained from my dream, and my hips were still aching but it took a while for my mind to calm back down. Tomorrow and the distractions that came from it couldn't come soon enough.

--- "Alright now, Mx. Prophet," the doctor gave me my diagnosis. Sinbad had him sent first thing in the morning, and his arrival woke me up. "You need to rest for a few days. I'll have painkillers sent over to help with your hip pain, fever, and migraine." With his job done, he saw himself out. 'I can't miss the Morning Assembly! ...But-!' I knew the doctor was right deep down. I was in no condition to do much of anything. I was fine resting when I didn't have obligations, but I had a job now. If I was back home I would have had to give Lyly my keys so I couldn't leave. Five years just wasn't enough to fully rewrite my base instincts. Although, from the new memories I was gaining, the me back home was doing a bit better. Those new memories were why I was healed and practiced enough to stop myself even if a doctor hadn't told me to... especially since I had a fever. As long as both me's kept whatever this connection was then maybe we would also keep the benefits from both sides. --- ~POV Sharrkon~ Mori was the only person that missed the morning Assembly. Yamuraiha had a growing smile throughout the meetings, and now that it ended she mumbled something to Pisti. Shar groaned; he knew where this was going. "Yup." Pisti giggled. "I heard from a reliable source," probably 1 of her boyfriends, "that Mori's not 'sick'. Her hips were injured and her body over worked last night." The King refused to look at the gossips. His silence spoke volumes compared to the past month of him adamantly defending that there was nothing special between him and 'his Beautiful Prophet.' "Oh ho~! It finally happened after I left!" Hina slapped Sharrkan on the back with a laugh. "Looks like the 2 of us have to pay up! But I guess you lost the most, huh?" "Oh, no! I ain't paying nothing! Nothing happened!!" Shar had a hurt ego to nurse and he would not let them step on it harder. "Mori got hurt dancing. Our King had nothing to do with it!" Sharrkon felt a shiver run down his spine that made him hold his tongue. Hina looked to the others for confirmation. "Is that true?" Drakon answered him. "It's true. However, it's also true that Sin carried Mori all the way to their room from the festival." "Oh~? That's proof enough for me." Drakon, Ja'far, Yam, and Pisti agreed with their own comments. The man in question still refused to comment, so Hinahoho addressed him directly. "You're really not going to say anything, Sin? After all of that time, telling us how you don't want to get married?" "Fine. Fine." King Sinbad finally turned to them with his arms crossed. "It's simple really. You know I'm not the type to reveal my hand until I'm certain." Sinbad was smiling, but Shar knew instinctually the King was the threat that told him to stop talking. The giant laughed. "Is that so?" "I know you're aware this is a first for me." Sharkkon's wallet cried with him. He had lost 2 out of 3 bets. It was only a matter of time before he lost the 3rd.

---- ~POV Mori~ The Great Bell rang out. The morning Assembly was definitely over. There were several things I had wanted to do today, and I couldn't do any of them since I had to rest. I needed to meet with Queen Artemina before she left Sindria. I had to solidify our connection as allies, but she was set to leave in a day. As I wrote a letter to send her, the waves shifted. This was the right choice for me, and the future I wanted. The letter would need time to dry before I could send it. I got up from my chair and stopped. I didn't want to lay down again yet no matter how much my body needed it. 'Damnit! How much more of my life am I going to spend sick??' I groaned into my hands. I was born with a weak raspatory system, so I get sick multiple times a year and often end up bedridden. "I am allowed to rest even though I can sit up and walk. Pushing will only make it worse." My mom eventually stopped acknowledging when I would get sick due to the expense which is why I struggle to let myself rest as an adult. I made a point of putting the truth into words to fight her conditioning. I climbed back in bed even though I knew that meant I would be stuck with just my thoughts until I fell back asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to process everything that had happened with Sinbad, but I couldn't think about it at all. Being triggered, recognizing these new memories, and that night terror just made me think about home more -well the place I came from. Even when I was in my room there I often couldn't help but think 'I want to go home' because even though it was comfortable and familiar, I couldn't feel safe. My last therapist told me that as long as I stayed in that house full of reminders there was only a slim chance of me recovering from my CPTSD. If only I could have afforded to move out.

In the new memories I got, our dad finally agreed to reorganize all of the living spaces, so that me and Lyly weren't getting as many flashbacks anymore. Hell, he even apologized for everything and started acting like a real dad some of the time. The me that stayed home was able to persevere until an opening for change finally came. 'If they got Isekai now I wonder if they would want to go home?' The thought had never occurred to this me -just like it never did back when I was in in-patient. Although I was still worried about Lyly like I was then. I rolled over to pull out a scroll from the bedside dressers. When I was on the ship I had worked on all sorts of scrolls and one was a memoir of my life back home. One of the first things I did was draw the people important to me before I'll inevitably forget their faces. I unrolled the scroll. Lyly's face stared up at me from the page. As difficult as that place was to live in all of my loved ones were there. In this world there was no one that knew me, and I wasn't sure if I could let my self get that close to anyone here -especially Sinbad. He already knew how deep some of the scars on my heart are. I didn't want him to think any less of me, or use my pain against me. And even more than that, I was scared that the safety I had here would shatter if I made a wrong step. 'I thought I was doing better.' This world had treated me so well that I fell into a false sense of security. Not being surrounded by reminders of my traumas made me feel like I was somehow cured and could restart from scratch. But that's not how healing works... Being away from triggers just made it easier to avoid having an attack. It's only after feeling safe that we let ourselves feel the emotions that are unsafe to feel in the moment. A few tears fell down my cheeks. I placed the scroll on the bedside table and rolled back towards the middle of the bed. Surely it was okay for me to cry in a situation like this. I allowed myself the luxury even though the tears didn't last long. When I was young I cried just as often from joy as sadness. The abuse I experienced made it unsafe to cry at all, so I learned to cry silently until I eventually stopped crying altogether. Being in this world made me feel like it was okay again. Letting myself actually feel these emotions was an important step in the healing process. Beating myself up for getting triggered and relapsing wouldn't help at all. I needed to forgive myself.

--- One day of rest should be enough, right? It's not like I still had a fever. I didn't want to stay in my room and make an even worse impression. My hips would hurt a little if I over worked them, but that would just act as a limiter. ((<<= This person is in denial))

I got dressed after breakfast, but as soon as I grabbed the doorknob I froze. "Yeah, no." I was not in the mood to see Sinbad in person yet, and I would have to if I left my room. As soon as I took Queen Sinbad's choker back off I felt a wave of relief. It had given me so much dopamine and serotonin when it was part of a fantasy, but now it was a reminder of my fears. How could I mark myself with it when I couldn't feel safe in my own desires? Wearing it felt like a lie. I definitely wouldn't be able to wear it for a while.

'Guess I haven't completely lost my sense of self-preservation.' Besides, I hadn't actually had time to do most of the things I like doing to relax since I got to this world. Going out in this state would be worse than not going out. Another day off as I recover from the stress had to be reasonable.

But what options did I have to relax?

Everyone else was busy with work at this time of day, so I could masturbate without having to worry about being interrupted. But my toybox didn't isekai with me; I only have my hands, and some ribbons for mild shibari. Sinbad said I could make requests, but there was no way in hell I was letting him find about this, let alone use his money for my sex toys. I'll figure out where to get some after payday. The night terror was still fresh in my memory anyway.

Video games, comics, and anime were obviously out of the question. Printing still isn't big enough for fiction to be popular to write -that's part of why Sinbad's Adventure story was such a huge success. I had 3 cats back home, but I can't exactly adopt a new pet while sick. I do sing a lot to relieve stress, but it would be embarrassing to be overheard without knowing. 'Note to self: get carpets to hang up to dampen the sound.' There were places I could go that would be harder to be heard but leaving wasn't an option until I was better. That only left me: writing and drawing.

'Working on Fate scrolls it is!'

The flow of ink was good for my brain. It did more than help calm me; it gave me more perspective but it couldn't give me true answers. 'I wish we could just go back to how things were before that night. How am I supposed to know when I will be ready to see Sinbad again?' He isn't any of the people that hurt me, so why can't I just like him without being afraid of betrayal?

Were Sinbad's actions manipulation, or earnest? Could I trust the safety I felt around him? It was definitely a combination of how he treated me, what I knew from reading his Fate, and how familiar I was with being around those types of manipulation. But there was something strange. When I looked for signs of his manipulation in how he dealt with me, or any expected fallout, nothing came from it. In fact, everything kept ending in my favor. The cycle I was expecting was coming from me, not Sinbad. The waves swirled as I finally let myself think about it.

What was he actually going to say when I cut him off? Even if it was what I thought, would I be able to believe him? Even if I didn't have relationship trauma I don't think I could trust him romantically after reading his Fate. He claimed he wasn't playing the flirting game, but that could have been manipulation. Was it my heart or pride that would be hurt more if he was lying? I couldn't tell yet.

I was lonely. Both in general, and in this world. There was no one that knew me here. And I was too scared to trust the person getting closest to my heart. Even though I didn't want to be seen like this, I didn't actually want to be alone; I just couldn't shake the fear of rejection or punishment I thought was inevitable. I left my windows open just in case. ---

~POV Sinbad~ The King sat on the edge of Mori's bed. He had been unable to visit the first time she was sick. Now that he understood his own feelings he couldn't stay away unless he was on the other side of the world. The only reason he didn't visit the first day was because he knew she needed space away from him. The waves had been trying to guide him here for a while though. Who was he to deny them? No one answered the door when he knocked or called out. The silence and waves worried him. The last report said her current fever was mild, but it could have spiked since then. Mori developed an extremely high fever on the ship several hours after everyone saw she was unwell. He entered without permission only to find his Beautiful Prophet was sleeping peacefully. He had gotten to see her; that would have to be enough. Mori turned her head in her sleep and her bangs fell onto her eye lashes. Sinbad leaned over to move her hair out of the way. He tried to keep his touch light to not wake her, but her eyes fluttered open. Unfocused eyes watched him. "Sin..?" The sound of their voice was a relief. It didn't sound strained at all, only weak from sleep.

"How are you feeling?" They weren't anywhere near as bad as last time. "~*yawn* Better now that I'm awake." "Oh? Did you have a bad dream?" They watched him as what he asked slowly processed in their newly conscious state. "Yeah, I did. Thank you for waking me." "Anytime." Sinbad returned their weak smile with his own. "I guess that's why it wasn't just my waves leading me here." He hesitated. "Mori, what do you think about moving into the Purple Leo Tower? It will be easier to care for you when you get sick. You'll be safer there. And your waves could reach me faster." The same fear from the other night started seeping into their expression. "I'm fine here." But he wasn't fine. "Besides, it will be harder when I have to move out of the Palace." For a moment he forgot how to breathe. "Why would you have to move out?" Why would she ever think she had to leave?? "Would you really be okay with me staying after my visions run out?" The King couldn't stop his hand from reaching to caress their cheek, but he was able to hold back from making contact. "Of course." Mori's brow creased farther and they glanced at his hand. "What about after I share all the knowledge I have from my world? I wasn't an engineer. I only know the basics." Sinbad's heart dropped. From the beginning Mori had been marketing herself as a resource, and he had only ever responded positively. Yet another way he'd messed up without even realizing it. "Of course, I'll still want you by my side." The more he was able to peer into Mori's heart the more worried he got. "You are a person, not a resource. You do know that, don't you?" Mori closed their eyes and leaned their head towards his hand; he took that as permission. Their cheek didn't feel feverish. They spoke flatly about their emotions like they did the night of the Announcement. "I know that logically, but I struggle with knowing how to act if I'm not helping someone." They brought a hand up to his. "I really do like helping people, but sometimes it feels like that's all I am. It's what I had to do to survive since I was little." Ah. He could understand that thought process. Sinbad had been a caregiver for his mother and village from a very young age, and went straight from that to king's candidate. There was very little time in his life when he wasn't working towards helping someone. Drinking, and philandering became his break from that -although he would hopefully be narrowing that last point to one person soon. "You seemed to do just fine at the festival." So fine that he couldn't deny his feelings anymore. "Huh? -Oh. Yeah. I guess I did." Her expression softened into a genuine smile. "It was probably going around the festival that got me sick though." It was mainly stress according to the doctors' report. Mori closed her eyes with a yawn. "I'll have to keep more distance between me and the citizens next time. I didn't realize I was so interesting." "You're incredibly interesting." They let out a quiet chuckle. "If you say so." Sinbad watched and felt as they turned their face into his palm, and sighed. Mori relaxed more into his hand with each breath as if his scent and touch were comforting. It bubbled up desires he knew he shouldn't act upon with a sick or unconscious person and yet he couldn't make himself leave either. He took a moment to ground himself but it did little good. He couldn't bring himself to leave until after Mori let go of his hand. To think another person would have this much power over him. "You really are amazing." There was absolutely no way he'd ever allow anyone else to see this side of them. Mori would be moved to the Purple Leo Tower in time, and would just have to learn through experience that he had no intentions of letting them go. ---

~POV Mori~ I woke up to the Great Bell the next morning. Sinbad being here was not a dream. I had just been too groggy to question the situation. What was the point of staying home, if he was going to visit me in person?

On the plus side, seeing Sinbad while I wasn't stuck in my trauma brain helped break the cycle of questions. Sinbad might be stubborn but through his whole life he is shown being someone fully willing to change his mind when given enough information. At this point in the story he is someone with conviction who says his truth directly -even if he often speaks in a manipulative way. So when he said he's chosen a new path, he meant it -even if I don't know what that means yet. And when he is shown seducing women, the idea of moving any of them into the Purple Leo Tower would never be considered, let alone offered -even in private. And yet he offered that to me.

Sinbad was changing and I'd never be able to accept how if I stayed cooped up in my room. To understand myself, and Sinbad I needed to spend more time around him. My rest was over. I didn't need to jump all the way in at once. I'd see him at the morning Assemblies, swap pleasantries, and part ways until the next day. 'Slow and steady.' --- ~POV Sinbad~ Was this how Hina and Drakon felt when they looked at their wives before they got together? Just seeing Mori enter the halls of the White Capricorn Tower made his heart swell. And hearing their voice? Well, he was starting to understand why Ja'far had been so upset with him since they returned from Balbadd. Even seeing Mori dressed androgynously didn't shake his feelings -though it was a bit jarring after how they dressed for the Announcement. It just cemented that what he felt wasn't simply based on how Mori presented. They were undeniably the most beautiful person in the world to him now.

After going through more options than necessary, the first thing the Dungeon Capturer managed to say to Mori was, "I'm happy to see you're feeling better."

"Yes. And thank you for visiting me while I was resting." Mori's smile made him feel at peace. Seeing them up close confirmed that they cut their bangs some. "But never enter my room without explicit permission again." Their sharper tone pierced him repeatedly with each sentence. "That includes the bird by the way. If my curtains are closed or I don't answer the door: don't enter my room."

He wore a smile to ease their anger. "Of course. It won't happen again."

Even as Mori accepted his response and left, the King couldn't get his heart to stop racing. Why did there have to be so many large risks of ruining his chances when he already knew she liked him from reading his Fate?

--- ~POV Mori~

As soon as the Assembly was over, I fled to the Black Libra Tower. 'He said he was happy I was better! AND he didn't say anything about about my change of gender expression!' Sinbad said all of two words directly to me and I started short circuiting. I remembered that he offered to move me to his tower -the one he sleeps in???- and immediately went on the defensive. I was not as ready as I thought!! I was going to need my favorite hyperfixation to survive the rollercoaster I was trapped on. And if it didn't exits yet, then I was going to reinvent it myself! It would be relatively easy to make a printing press since this fanfic was in English instead of whichever Arabic language was the region's canonical one, or Japanese like the series was originated in. Both require significantly more characters than English, and some kanji can be too intricate to make with this world's current level of technology. Speaking of which, this world had stamps and seals so this next level of printing shouldn't be too crazy of a change. I took some print making classes in high school and college, so I got to use a few different scale printing presses. I knew enough to draft prototypes. I excelled at typography in college too -so well that the department head signed off on me skipping a few courses so I could get to the high level stuff faster. The typography was digital, but I still learned enough to draft prototypes of stamps and such. ('A shame I couldn't afford higher than an Associates Degrees.) Since I was working on a table in the middle of one of the libraries, people came up to ask me about what I was doing. I gave a brief summary to the latest onlooker, before I pointed to the examples I was drafting. "I see." His voice was familiar but I was too focused to register it. The person moved around the table to read the part I had finished this morning. He made a few sounds of recognition as he read. "Won't spelling out each word every time be a hassle?" "Well, yeah. It's better to have most words premade. And full lines of text can be fused together to make reprinting more issues easier and faster." He pointed to a spot on the parchment. "Ah- that's what this part is then." My eyes were drawn to the glint of his rings. Every cell in my body remade itself as my brain finally acknowledged who was talking to me. "That is convenient." Sinbad's voice was unmistakable now that I was paying attention. I prayed to every God I knew of that my emotions didn't show in my actions or voice. "This might be a new technology here, but you won't have to completely reinvent the wheel thanks to my 'visions.'" I had to focus on my breathing to keep my heart rate down. I was able to keep the conversation moving, but I wasn't sure I would remember it well. I was more focused on not looking like an idiot. We had exchanged greetings at the morning assembly but this was the first time I was talking to him fully sober in days. His polite gestures and this conversation made my heart swell, but he wasn't flirting; he was just existing while being attractive. 'Why did I have to start thinking it could be mutual??? I can't even enjoy it like this!' If anything starts there's going to be an end.

--- ~POV Sinbad~ Sinbad didn't have a 'real' reason for visiting Mori in Black Libra Tower on their first day back, but, as King, there was no one who would question him. Although, Ja'far would come to get him if he's away from his responsibilities for too long. He arrived a bit after lunch to find Mori sitting at a table in the middle of the library where anyone could and did come talk to them. The proof being that they didn't beat an eye at his questions. In fact, it sounded like they had explained about this stamp system multiple times. Mori needed their own office in the tower. He'd make sure they got one asap. As interesting as this new technology was, Sinbad kept finding himself staring at his Beautiful Prophet more. It was hard enough to focus at his own desk -let alone when Mori was right in front of him. Sinbad had heard that acknowledging the feeling makes it stronger, but he wasn't expecting this. Mori tensed for a moment before scooting their chair away from him. He had been leaning closer to them without realizing, and they moved away. How was this the same person that fell asleep holding his hand the previous day? Were they just too tired back then to remember what was going on? Did they think it was a dream? He definitely shouldn't flirt with them while they were this uncomfortable to be around him. Would they even be willing to hold his arm while they walked together? He didn't think so. Sinbad took a moment to ground. Even if Mori had turned into a feral cat or wild rabbit around him, the way they watched him when they thought he wasn't looking was a sign that they wouldn't mind being tamed by him. They had enjoyed his company before; he just needed to remind them of that. The only question was if he could regain Mori's trust before he had to leave for the Kou Empire.

((OMGOSH I did not expect this to take this long. At least a month of that gap was from back-to-back illness too, so it took even longer. My digestive track turned off for 24 hours and took 48 to fully come back online. While I was in recovery I caught a really bad upper raspatory infection that gave me a 103F fever for a week. So of course my period hit me like a freight train a week later. Somehow I was ill the weeks around the holidays and not on them, but it was a still a super rough couple of weeks. I'm better now :D which is why I was able to have the energy to write.

I processed a lot of my emotions while working on these chapters. They're all things I already knew, but consolidating them like this helped me see more of the places they were affecting me, and cement in my head that it is okay to move forward. :D

This arc is 3 chapters long including this one. Since I do have the next 2 written already, I just need to refine them and make the art, so there shouldn't be as long as a break for the next chapter. Like this chapter, they will have scenes of Mori processing their emotions. I needed a lot of time to edit them down a ton since there's obviously things I don't intend to post on the internet, and I want the story to feel good to read chapter to chapter. I've already got the next arc started too. It's a lot of character confrontations that became discarded drafts of earlier arcs, but definitely need to happen now. Since I have those drafts as a basis, I hope to get that arc ready before I finish posting this one. I have another DeadEnd chapter to post, and a few one shots I almost have ready. I've been posting wips and art for for them on patreon, but I won't be posting them here until I have full chapters ready U-U))

#magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi sinbad #sinbad x oc #magi fanart #sinbadxoc #magi fanfiction

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